The Morelville Mysteries Collection

by Anne Hagan

  “How?”

  “The old fashioned way, transparent tape.”

  We ran into a drugstore after lunch and got a small roll of packing tape and some rubber gloves.

  Looking at the prints, back at the cabin, I could see that they were angled as if someone had knelt on the floor between the stand and the Jacuzzi and reached out to touch it, maybe for stability on the way down to their knees or back up. They certainly were oddly located and positioned to be plausible for any other explanation.

  As carefully as I could, I lifted the prints highlighted by the fingerprint powder and inspected my work. There was little residue no left on the stand and it appeared I’d gotten good transfer to the tape. Local incompetence might just pay off yet.

  While Dana packed the tapes up for shipping, I called my old friend Izzy at the crime lab in Columbus and asked her for a favor. She agreed to let me overnight the print tapes to her so we headed back out to find a place to ship them from.

  It was early evening by the time we were out and about again. The Gatlinburg post office was closed. We found a Pak Mail place that told us they’d send it out but that we’d missed the overnight pick-up. Izzy wouldn’t get the prints until Thursday. I left her a message and then gave my wife the once over.

  “It looks like we’ve done all we can do for now, babe. It’s back to enjoying each other’s company.”

  Dana smiled up at me, “I’m okay with that.”

  ###

  Wednesday Morning, October 15th, 2014

  We woke to a cool morning drizzle in the Gatlinburg area but, after jumping on the laptop, Dana determined Cherokee North Carolina was experiencing a beautiful fall day. She packed us up and we headed out on a leisurely trip through the mountains and into North Carolina.

  We enjoyed the great outdoors for a while and then, in the heat of the day, we packed it into another one of Mama Rossi’s favorite casinos to take bus trips to, as Dana tells it, Harrah’s Cherokee, and we lost as much money as we could stand to lose. Dana’s past luck with handicapping pro baseball games didn’t seem to extend to playing blackjack, video poker or slots. I didn’t plan on letting her forget it.

  Chapter 11 – PI Moms

  Mama Rossi

  Wednesday Morning October 15th, 2014

  Morelville

  Faye picked me up at 9:00 sharp in Jesse’s pick-up truck. I’m not fond of the things but she said it would be useful for anything we bought ‘cash and carry’.

  Since it was on our way out of Morelville, we stopped at Dale’s shop first. I was excited this time. While Faye took her time moseying into the place, I burst through the front door to find Dingy Dale himself standing not ten feet in front of me.

  “Good morning Chloe. I’m glad to see you made it back after all.” He nodded to Faye who was finally crossing the threshold behind me.

  “Now Dale, I told you I’d be back. I bought a lovely antique bedroom set yesterday and I saw just the piece in here to compliment it. I hope you still have it.” I just barely caught Faye’s look as she rolled her eyes.

  Working my way around to where I’d seen the carved lamp base, I ran across an old dry sink in need of a little TLC. Looking around, I found Dale trailing semi-discreetly behind me. “Was this here yesterday? I don’t remember seeing it.”

  The quirky shop owner half smirked. “Good eye Chloe; no it wasn’t. I got it in late yesterday afternoon. I just knocked the cobwebs off a little and put it on out here while I decide what I want to do with it.”

  I called Faye over, “Wouldn’t this be just perfect in that corner of the kitchen just inside the door? It’s just a useless little area there right now.”

  Faye, index finger to her lips, considered it. “I think you’re right but it needs some work.” She looked at Dale, “What are you asking for it, as is?”

  “It’s an antique you know.”

  “Don’t try to kid a kidder Dale. You know you trash picked this somewhere. If we take it just like that, what do you want for it?”

  He scratched his head, “Mmm, gimme a hundred and it’s yours.”

  I didn’t think his price was bad for something that was oak, obviously vintage, and only in need of some stain and a little hardware. Faye had other ideas though.

  “What were you thinking about doing to it?” she asked him.

  “Obviously, it needs cleaned well and a nice coat of oak stain then I gotta fix that pull.”

  “Tell you what, you do that stuff and we’ll give you your hundred.” Faye looked at me and I nodded but I still felt like we were stealing it from the man.

  “You got yourself a deal.” Dale stuck out his hand and I took it. While he held it, he asked, “Now, about that other piece you were wanting?”

  “Oh, I still want it. Trust me on that.” I moved on to the carved lamp base that featured a buck and a doe.”

  Turning to Faye, I asked, “Don’t you think Mel will just love it?”

  Before she could answer, Dale asked, “This is for Mel? It’s right up her alley, I guarantee it.”

  “Actually, it’s for the guest room in her house. It will go well with a carved bedroom suite I found for in there.”

  “Oh, well don’t be surprised if she wants it in her den when she sees it, is all I’m saying.”

  We talked lamp shades while Dale picked up the base and moved it to his register and I followed. He rang me up for that but held me off on paying for the dry sink.

  “Now, now,” he said, “Faye here knows I don’t take payment for nothin’ until it’s in your hands. You just give me a good number to reach you at and I’ll get back to you, probably Friday, when that sinks stained and it’s had time to dry.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He began rummaging in a stack of boxes behind him, I presumed, for a box to put my new prize in. Faye idly mentioned, “It’s so sad about Terry, don’t you think?”

  Turning away from his task, eyes narrowed, he replied, “Says you!”

  I was taken aback by the venom in his tone but Faye didn’t seem nearly as fazed. “What’s got you all wrapped around the axel?” she asked him.

  “Really, I shouldn’t say anything now that he’s gone and all but that guy just always rubbed me the wrong way. Terry was a cheat at cards, at fishing, at hunting...whatever he could cheat at.”

  Faye just nodded at the man, encouraging him while giving me an ‘I told you so’ look.

  Dale kept right on going, “He pissed me off bad a few years back. Me and a buddy were out hunting. I shot an 11 point buck I’d been scouting for weeks. I hit it good but it still had the gumption to take off. By the time I got out of my stand, followed the blood trail and chased it down, Terry had found it and claimed it as one he’d shot and he and a buddy of his were already field dressing it.” Dale shook with rage as he recalled the events.

  “Then,” he continued, “to add insult to injury, Terry had the rack mounted and he hung it on the wall in his den at home. Every time I was there after that it was as though the buck was staring down at me, taunting me while we played cards whenever we played there. And, to top it off, he always cheated when we were at his place too!”

  I was curious, “Why on earth did you keep playing cards with him after that and after...well, knowing that he cheats?”

  “You know, we had this group see, and Terry was always a part of it. Despite the cheating at everything, he was a likeable enough guy just to talk to. There just aren’t too many guys my age around here anymore that would get together for things like poker.” He shrugged, “You just had to watch him real close like, and not let him get away with any of his crap and boy did he like to pull some crap...”

  “Let’s stop at Sharpe’s.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything else in her shop we’d want for the girls, Faye.”

  “Probably not; I think you cleaned her out of her good stuff yesterday but she’s always good for tea and a little gossip.”

  Smiling at that, I thought to myself, Faye�
�s trying to put her mind at rest about Terry.

  I was right; as soon as Lucy Sharpe saw Faye, she greeted us both but then, turning directly to Faye, she started in on that very topic.

  “I heard last night that Terry had passed on, God rest his soul.”

  “Yes...well, actually Lucy, he drowned in Chuck’s pond.”

  The older woman clucked her tongue. “What a horrible way to go.” She looked back to me, “Where are my manners? How did that bedroom set turn out in Melissa’s guest room?”

  “It looks lovely Mrs. Sharpe.”

  “Oh call me Lucy please. I’m glad you like it there dear. Now then, you’re here about the same time as you were yesterday and right about the time I always take a little tea. Would you two join me?” Her look was expectant.

  “Of course,” Faye smiled.

  We took seats while Lucy bustled about setting out tea in dainty, fussy little cups different from the ones she and I had used just the day before.

  When she’d finally settled herself at the table, she picked right back up where she’d left off about Terry, “I hope,” she said, “that he’s less restless in death than he was in life.”

  This time I asked, “What makes you say that?”

  Lucy glanced at Faye and then back to me, “Oh, you know; Terry...he was a bit of a philanderer.”

  Faye nodded knowingly.

  Leaning forward conspiratorially, Lucy went on, “He once tried to hit on Rich Johnson’s wife, Amy. She was having none of it but Rich was livid anyway, when he found out. He confronted Terry about it. They never had two kind words to say to each other after that. Terry was never one to take blame or to try and make amends.”

  We passed an easy half hour talking about this, that and everything else between us then I used Dana’s bank card to buy them a nice wall clock for their still empty living room and we moved on.

  When we were back in Jesse’s pickup, I confronted Faye. “Who are Rich and Amy Johnson?”

  “Rich is an oil field worker. He’s only in his early forties, I’d say. His wife Amy is an attractive homemaker and I want to say she’s in her late thirties but she looks even younger. They have two teenaged children though that she gave birth to so she’s got to be well out of her twenties.”

  “Seems a little young for Terry.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me,” was all Faye said, seemingly wanting to close the subject.

  “Where to next?”

  “I thought I’d take you to see a couple of the local Amish craftsman and get a feel for what’s out there. If you like their stuff but you want to see a bit more, tomorrow we can go up to Berlin and visit among the shops there; that’s quite an experience in itself.”

  “Hmm, well, today sounds like a plan but tomorrow I think I really need to focus on finding some comfortable living room furniture for them. Their whole camping cot motif just isn’t getting it for me.” We both had a little laugh at that.

  Faye pulled the loaded pickup up to the fuel pump. While she filled the tank, I went inside the station and availed myself of the ladies room. I just couldn’t hold it for that last block and a half back to the girls house.

  We’d spent a long going from place to place and we did pretty well, all told. There was the minor glitch of the Amish not taking Dana’s card but, it all worked out once I called her and cajoled a pin out of her and took as much cash out of an ATM as it would let me have.

  Just as I returned to the truck, an older woman approached us and greeted Faye with a bright smile.

  Faye spotted as she hung up the pump nozzle, “Well hello there Jenna Mae; how in the world are you?”

  Spotting me, she immediately introduced me to the much older woman, “Jenna Mae, this is Chloe Rossi, a new friend of mine. Chloe, this is Jenna Mae Rogers, one of the matriarchs of our little village here.”

  I took the woman’s hand in both of mine. “I’m so pleased to meet you. This really is a lovely village, just a great place to live from what I’ve seen of it.”

  Jenna Mae beamed at first. “It really is lovely; thank you for saying so,” but then her face grew troubled. She looked back at Faye as I released her hand, “Isn’t it just terrible though, what’s happened to poor Terry?”

  “Yes,” Faye replied. “May God rest his soul.”

  We all nodded solemnly.

  “I just hate to think how he went out, is all. That’s got to weigh heavily on Sheila’s mind, after all.”

  “Yes, drowning is a horrible way to go. Just horrible.” Faye shook her head while I stood by wordlessly.

  “Well, that too, but I meant that they seemed to be having a lovers quarrel before he stormed off and all and went fishing in the first place.”

  Shocked yet again, I shot Faye a look. She shrugged her response in return.

  “Mrs. Rogers,” I began gently, “I was actually in the store picking up a few things when Terry left it Sunday morning. I admit, I don’t really know them but nothing seemed terribly amiss.”

  “Oh dear, how shall I put this?” Jenna Mae looked truly uncomfortable. She was quiet for several long moments and then mumbled, “Perhaps I should just leave it lie.”

  Faye placed a hand on the older woman’s arm and patted it. “It’s okay. You can tell us and get it off your chest.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She paused again but then she seemed to gather herself, “I was on my way up to church. I usually walk but I drove that day because Terry left a message on that machine thing I have that my canning lids were in. I knew he’d be in there, so I stopped for them. I didn’t expect Sheila to be there but there she was and it was obvious they had been arguing before I even walked in. I could hear them”

  “They quieted down quick enough though. I don’t even know why Sheila was there at all. She’s always at church on Sunday and she almost never works in the store on the Lords day. Terry, well, he stopped coming to church a couple of years ago.” She looked at me, “You say you saw them later?”

  I nodded. “Yes, and now that I think about it, Sheila seemed a little annoyed at Terry but I wrote that off to having to go in there to help him rather than go to church.”

  “Maybe that’s it then.” She nodded to herself and then repeated a bit louder, “Maybe that’s it.”

  As Faye and I toted our smaller purchases into Dana and Mel’s home, we talked more about Terry.

  “I admit,” Faye said, “I was starting to think maybe Jesse was right. There do seem to be a few people out there that had it in for the man but, from what Jenna Mae said, an argument between him and Sheila could have happened and maybe he took having to go to the back for something for you as an excuse to just leave and go and cool off.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  ###

  Thursday morning, October 16th, 2014

  I slept well in the girls guest room which I thought was coming together quite nicely, in fact, almost too well. It was nearly 9:00 AM when I ventured downstairs.

  Deciding I needed a good cuppa to really get me started for the day, I filled the coffee maker and flipped it on. I was distressed to find that the little creamer container I’d grabbed after the reception had less than a teaspoon left in it though. While the pot brewed, I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my keys and prayed the gas station had at least one overpriced container I could buy.

  Surprised to see the open sign on at the store just half a block up the street, I pulled in there instead. Sheila herself and a young girl were sitting outside on a bench. I walked up to them tentatively.

  “My condolences,” I told her. “I’m so sorry if I’m mistaken; I didn’t think you’d be open.”

  Sheila half smiled, “I forgot to cancel the usual deliveries. Since I had to be here for them anyway, I just opened up.” She got up from the bench and led the way inside. The girl stayed put. “How can I help you?”

  I told her what I needed and she pointed it out straight away. I was quiet as she rang up large container I’d chosen. As she started
to thank me, a delivery driver came through the front door and addressed her so I just melted away.

  Outside, the girl was still on the bench, kicking one foot back and forth. I guessed she must be about ten or twelve. Looking at her closely, I could see a family resemblance to Sheila.

  “I’m really sorry to hear about your grandpa.”

  She tilted her head and peered up at me, “This was his favorite bench. He always told me he was just gonna’ sit here all day and watch the world go by.”

  Skeptical about much of the world passing him on the only paved road in and out of Morelville, I nevertheless smiled and nodded at the obviously grieving youngster. A thought coming to mind, I asked her, “Your grandma got a little busy in there. You don’t happen to know when the funeral is, do you?”

  “Not till Saturday. That’s when everyone can get here.”

  “Oh, I see. Well I’ll certainly be there.”

  “Did you know him ma’am?”

  “I’d only just met him but my daughter-in-law knows him well; Melissa Crane?”

  “You’re related to Sheriff Mel? She’s so cool! I’m Emily, by the way. I’m 13. Sheriff Mel comes to our school and talks to us about things like bullies and drugs and stuff.”

  “That’s great that she does that.”

  Emily nodded. “Will she be at the funeral too?”

  “I don’t know. She’s away right now but she may come back in time for it.”

  “Oh.” The girl seemed a little disappointed.

  I changed the topic back to her grandpa, “Did you sit her with your grandpa a lot?”

  “Papaw? No. Just sometimes in the summer when I’m not in school. Mostly he took me fishing. I saw him carrying his favorite pole and his creel that he only uses sometimes into the store the day that he...that he died. I was kind of upset when I found out he went fishing without me...we were supposed to go after he closed up for the day.” She sniffled and then wailed, “If only I had been there.” Tears started streaming down her face.

  “Oh sweetie, what happened isn’t your fault.” I tried my best to comfort her while in my head I was thinking; Why did he bring his fishing gear into the store and what happened to his creel? Wouldn’t Sheila have noticed them being here if she had been in the back at all?