Marja McGraw - Bogey Man 01 - Bogey Nights

by Marja McGraw

  Chance looked up, into John’s face, and said, “They were just leaving though. They have another appointment and I’m a bit tired anyway.” She sagged a little, giving emphasis to her comment.

  I looked from her to John and realized that she was game-playing again. Her voice was suddenly weaker, and the look on her face made me feel like her next question would be, “Where am I? I’m so confused.”

  I headed for the door. “Come on, Chris. We’d better get moving or we’ll be late for our appointment.” I stopped and turned to the little old lady, deciding to play her game. “Chance, I’m sorry we tired you out. You get some rest and we’ll talk again later.”

  “Yes, come back again.” By this time she was leaning on John’s arm for support.

  “Good to see you, buddy,” Chris said, holding out his hand to John. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Sure.” John helped Chance over to her chair after shaking Chris’s hand.

  With one last look in the recreation room, Chris and I headed for the car.

  “Can you believe that woman?” I asked, scornfully. “She can turn her feelings off and on like a water faucet. She’s better at it than I am.”

  Chris gave me a quick glance.

  “No, I don’t really do that, Chris. It just seemed like the thing to say. And can you believe that she thinks all those men had a crush on her? I’ll bet she’s the one who kept those boarders upset all the time. I can picture her stirring all the little pots.”

  “You could be right. She discombobulates me, that’s for sure. She’s a piece of work.”

  “She upsets me, too. Next time I’m coming by myself. Maybe I’ll see the real her. With you here, I think she holds back. My, but she was nasty about Alice. I sure would like to find her and get her side of the story.”

  “Yes, but she’s vanished, just like the others.”

  “Yeah, vanished like the wind. This whole thing is so weird. You’d almost think Chance killed those men, and yet I don’t really think she did. My opinion seems to be skewed because I don’t like her, but I can’t help it.”

  Chris laughed. “You’re joking. You don’t like her? I’d never have guessed. And for someone who goes to church every Sunday and prays about everything under the sun, you sure don’t sound very Christian right now.”

  We climbed into the car. Chris started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

  I thought about what he said before responding. “You’re right. I don’t sound very Christian. But Christians aren’t perfect, you know. We have our faults just like everyone else. We’re a work in progress.” I straightened my back. “However, along those lines, I’ll start praying for change in myself, and more understanding and patience. Patience is my downfall. I don’t have much. Thanks for calling this to my attention, Chris. And I’ll pray for Chance. She could stand to be a little more loveable.”

  Chris was quiet for a full minute, apparently stumped at my reaction. “Hey, babe, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I was just teasing.”

  “You didn’t. As the Bogey Man would say, you made me open my blinkers and take a look in the mirror. It’s aces, Chris.” I took hold of his hand and squeezed it, a loving gesture. He squeezed back and smiled at me.

  It was a long drive to Midge’s mother’s house.

  “Chris, what did Midge say her mother’s name is?”

  “Charlotte.”

  “I remember that one of the letters we found was from Charlotte. I wondered at the time if she was Midge’s mother.”

  We didn’t talk for several miles. I was lost in my thoughts about what little we knew, and I assumed Chris was, too.

  “Do you really think Chance could be the killer?” I finally asked.

  “No, probably not. She was too wrapped up in herself. It wouldn’t have served her purpose to kill the very men who she seems to think worshiped her. It might be worth looking into Blakely’s friends though, if we can find out who they were. Maybe Charlotte knows something.”

  “I’d like to see Dapper Dan’s, too,” I said. “What’s it called now?”

  Chris pulled the card out of his pocket and handed it to me.

  “Oh. Daniel’s. I guess they didn’t change the name too much. Come to think of it, I’ve seen that place, and it looks nice. Maybe we can check it out while Mikey is at his grandparents’ house. See what our competition is like.”

  “You’ve got a date, babe.” Chris turned right and handed me a piece of paper. “This is the street. What’s the number?”

  I read it and pointed to a block wall on the left, with the number fastened to it. “That’s it.” It was surrounded by more block walls and high gates. We pulled in and stopped at the gate, where we found a button to push. We couldn’t see the house. The driveway curved around behind some old, established trees.

  “Hubba hubba,” Chris said. “It looks like Midge wasn’t joking when she said she came from a family of means. I wonder if Mummy is her source of funds.”

  “Hubba hubba?”

  “Yeah, well… ” He reached out the window and pushed the button.

  A disembodied voice greeted us. “Yes? Can I help you?”

  “Chris and Pamela Cross to see Charlotte Springer. She’s expecting us.”

  “Drive on up,” the voice said as the gates swung open.

  We drove around the trees and found the home, which looked more like a mansion to me. Charlotte had done well for herself. We parked at the side of the house which appeared to be for guest parking.

  Walking up to the front door, I couldn’t help admiring the place. There were enough trees to warrant calling it a small forest. Between the trees and the house were well-kept gardens, filled with traditional flowering plants and exotic looking plants that I’d never seen before. There were two weathered benches that had aged gracefully, shaded by arbors that were covered with vines. I took mental pictures with our backyard in mind.

  I didn’t want to go talk to Charlotte. I wanted to plunk myself down on one of the benches with a good mystery and forget the world for a few minutes – or hours.

  I didn’t realize Chris had pushed the button for the doorbell until someone opened the door. Turning, I found a lovely woman of indeterminate age standing in the doorway. They say class tells, and this woman was screaming good breeding. I remembered Midge saying that her mother was still in her own home and that she didn’t get around much anymore. Ridiculous!

  “You must be Chris and Pamela,” the woman said in a soft, smoky voice. “Please come in. I’m Charlotte Springer.” She took a step back and waved us in.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chris held out his hand and Charlotte took hold of it in both of her teeny tiny hands. Letting go, she reached for me. “So lovely to meet you both. Let’s go out on the patio. It’s too beautiful this afternoon to stay inside.”

  I could see where Midge and Pidge had inherited their small stature. Charlotte was about the size of a miniature toy poodle. Of course, I’m exaggerating, but she was definitely small. Her hair was colored somewhere between light red and strawberry blonde. Not a natural color, but it suited her coloring and her short haircut. Her eyes were sky blue, and bright and alert. If I had to guess, I’d say she was in her mid- to late- eighties. She’d allowed herself to grow old gracefully and naturally, and her wrinkles only added character to her small, oval face.

  “You have such a wonderful home,” I said, following behind her.

  “Thank you, Pamela. I’m quite proud of it. My husband and I worked hard to achieve what you see. It was a work of love. I’ve always wanted a home to be proud of, and Parker didn’t let me down. He passed on a few years ago, but this house always reminds me of my time with him.”

  She showed us out to the patio, which was rather small compared to everything else on the property. Then I took a closer look. The patio wrapped around the side of the house, so there was probably quite a bit more to see. She had iced tea and cookies waiting for us.

  “This is m
y downfall,” she said as we sat down. “I’m just nuts for cookies, especially if they have chocolate in them. I made these myself. Chocolate chip cookies are a staple in my home.”

  “Ah, a woman after my own heart,” I said. “No matter what the problem, chocolate can solve it or make it better.”

  Charlotte smiled at me. “I can see we’re going to get along famously, Pamela.”

  Turning to Chris, she said, “And I can see what all the hubbub is about you, Chris. You bear a startling resemblance to Humphrey Bogart.”

  “So I’ve been told. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you want Midge to hire me to find out about your brother?” He looked around the estate. “You could certainly have hired a professional investigator.”

  She smiled, one of the prettiest smiles I’d ever seen, wrinkles or no wrinkles. “Ah, but if I’d hired a professional, I wouldn’t be able to say I’d hired the Bogey Man. Yes, I read about you in the newspapers. I believe you’ll do the job I want done. You’ll try harder because you’re not a professional. And I understand that you’re working well with Detective Riley, from the police department.”

  My eyebrows shot up in almost perfect unison with Chris’s.

  “How do you know about Janet Riley?” I asked.

  This time her smile was sly, but honest. “I have connections. I’m keeping up with everything you do on this case. I like to know where my money is going.”

  “But you’re not paying us,” Chris said. “I told Midge that I couldn’t take payment for what I’m doing.”

  Charlotte tipped her head and looked into Chris’s eyes without replying. I was flummoxed. She knew what we were doing, so had she hired a P.I. to watch us? And she talked about her money, but we hadn’t taken any. Could Midge have taken the money for herself and not told her mother? I needed some answers, and I’d find them when the time was right. But now wasn’t the time.

  “Not all payments are made with cash,” Charlotte said. “Eventually you’ll understand what I’m talking about.”

  Apparently she didn’t think it was the right time either.

  “Now, what would you like to know about my brother and the time of his disappearance?”

  “Anything you can tell us will be helpful,” Chris said. “What was he like, did he ever tell you anything about the boarding house or his landlord, can you recall any stories he might have related to you, anything at all that you can remember?”

  “And there’s something I’d like to tell you, too,” I added. “He never received your last letter to him, nor did his letter to you ever go into the mail. We found them behind a bookcase at the house. When I can, I’ll bring you his last letter. The police are looking at them right now.”

  Charlotte was quiet, digesting what I’d told her. “The letters had fallen behind a bookcase?”

  “We believe they were hidden there. Someone, for some reason, was trying to stop communications between three of the boarders and their friends and family. When we know who and why, we may have all the answers.”

  “Then I’ll return to your husband’s questions and we’ll keep this investigation moving along. My brother was the salt of the earth. He was a man among men. Oh, I know I’m speaking in clichés, but Charles really was one of those rare, wonderful men that come along once in a lifetime. My mother and I had such high hopes for him. I know he would have done something exceptional with his life.

  “He aspired to be a pediatrician. He was very good with children. Things were different during the war years though, and he’d made a few blunders along the way, but he was pulling his life back together when we lost touch with him. It’s so sad that he never got to live up to his potential.”

  Charlotte sat quietly for a moment, looking out over the grounds of her home. She took a deep breath before continuing.

  “He had mentioned, casually, that he had some problems at the boarding house he was living in. We’d spoken on the telephone, although a long-distance call was something neither of us could easily afford at the time.”

  “Did he say what kind of problems?” Chris asked.

  “No, just that it wasn’t anything to worry about. He could take care of it himself. Well, he did mention three men and two women living at the house, so I assumed it had to do with petty jealousies. I didn’t push him about it because he didn’t seem to want to go into detail. Instead he spoke about obtaining a job and starting college. He couldn’t serve during the war because of a health problem, although now, with modern medicine, he could have overcome his issues.”

  “Chance Murphy, his landlord, mentioned that he had a couple of friends who used to visit him at the boarding house,” Chris said. “Would you have any idea who they might be?” Chris was on a roll. I’d already forgotten about the friends Chance had mentioned.

  “No, I’m afraid he never mentioned his friends. My husband and I moved to New York for a few years, but when Charles disappeared, we returned to California.” She put out her arms, hands up, indicating her home and the grounds. “That’s when all of this happened. Oh, not right away, but we did make some sound decisions in our lives, and my husband was quite creative.”

  “It would appear so,” I said. I didn’t ask what her husband did for a living. I figured if she wanted to talk about it, she’d bring it up.

  “Charles was a quiet man, but he made friends easily. He had friends all through school, but he drifted away and went out on his own when most of his friends enlisted in the various services. I always believed he was embarrassed because he couldn’t join up with them. It wasn’t his fault. He’d had a mild case of polio and it had left him with some problems. He had a decided limp.”

  “Would you happen to know someone named Sarah Smith?” I asked. “We found a letter she’d written to Charles that he never received. In it, she made a comment about someone sending him threatening notes and going through his things. I’d really like to find her, if I can.”

  “That name does sound familiar. Let me go fill the plate up with more cookies and I’ll think about it while I’m gone.”

  I hadn’t noticed that Charlotte and I had finished the cookies.

  “Is that something women do?” Chris asked after Charlotte left the table. “Eat when they talk about things that upset them?”

  I laughed. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but it works for me, and apparently it works for Charlotte, too. I’m surprised she doesn’t have a housekeeper or a maid to serve us.”

  She was gone for several minutes, leaving me to wonder just how far the kitchen was from the patio. She finally returned with a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies.

  “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I happened to think of someone who might know who Sarah Smith is, so I called her. She’s a cousin of mine. She said she not only remembered Sarah, but she went to her wedding all those years ago. She married a banker by the name of Ozzie Pensella, and they’ve retired to Arizona. She and Sarah are still in touch, infrequently, and she gave me her telephone number.” Charlotte set a piece of paper in front of Chris. “You might try giving her a call. My cousin said when Sarah moved to Colorado with her parents back in the forties, she and Charles started writing to each other. They were quite close when we were children, although Sarah was quite a bit younger than Charles.”

  Chris rolled his upper lip under before smiling his best Bogey smile at Charlotte. “Who knows? You might have just given me what I need to crack this case wide open, shweetheart. At least, I hope so.”

  Charlotte placed her hands together as though in prayer and placed them under her nose, against her mouth, and her eyes lit up. I could see the edges of a smile beside her hands. She dropped her hands to her lap.

  “I can see why you create such a stir, Mr. Cross, and I can most decidedly understand why you’re referred to as the Bogey Man.”

  I couldn’t help but smile myself. Chris always seemed to bring a specialness into people’s lives.

  “I like you two,” Charlotte said. “Pamela, have another
cookie.” She pushed the plate in my direction. “And, Chris, do that lip thing for me again.”

  ***

  By the time we picked Mikey up at Constance’s house, she’d already fed him dinner. I’d called her because it was getting late, and since he’d already eaten, we picked up In-N-Out hamburgers to take home with us.

  On the drive home, Mikey was all abuzz because of an arts and crafts show that was coming up at school. He wanted to know if Chris and I could work one of the booths. Of course, we said we would.

  “Who’s going to make all of the arts and crafts?” Chris asked.

  “Us kids,” Mike replied. “We’re going to work on things every Monday and Friday for the next two months, so you’d better bring your wallets with you when we do this. There’s gonna be lots of good stuff. Even the teachers are going to bring some things.”

  “I’ll bring trucks of bucks with me,” Chris said.

  “You’re a poet and don’t know it,” Mikey responded. “And your feet are Longfellows.”

  “Wow. I haven’t heard that one since I was your age, Ace,” Chris said.

  “Were you ever his age?” I asked.

  “Funny lady.” Chris poked me in the ribs.

  Mikey laughed, looking very happy. We’d spent the first few years of his life with just the two of us, and I felt that adding a father to the equation had probably been the best thing for both of us.

  My son had done his homework while he was at Constance’s house, so I sent him upstairs to take a shower and get ready for bed.

  Chris and I ate our burgers before relaxing on the couch in the living room.

  “Talk about two different women,” I said. “Chance and Charlotte both have money. One lives like a pauper, and one lives the good life.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call Chance’s lifestyle that of a pauper,” Chris said.

  “I know, but it seemed like the easiest way to compare them. And Chance isn’t very likeable, while Charlotte made me feel right at home. In fact, Charlotte seems a lot nicer than her daughter and granddaughter, too. Interesting what money can do to people. Chance is afraid people will hit her up for handouts. I get the feeling that Charlotte would be there with cash in hand before anyone asked her.”