Dial Marr for Murder

by Karen Cantwell

  The Nature Center was quiet—the reception desk unattended. Bunny said they hadn’t filled the vacant position yet and relied on volunteers to help out until they found someone. A long corridor behind the desk led to the back offices. I called out to announce my arrival. “Hello? Bunny? Anyone? I’m here to save the day.”

  A chair rolled out into the middle of the corridor from one of the offices. A small woman with large round glasses and white nurses’ shoes peered at me. She was so short her feet didn’t touch the floor. “You are looking for Bunny Bergen?” she asked in a thick Russian accent.

  “That’s right. She’s expecting me. Barbara Marr?”

  She scooted off the wheeled chair in one quick movement and stared at me over the top of her glasses. “You are sure you are Barbara Marr? Because you ask it as a question like you are not so sure.”

  “Yes. I’m sure. I’m Barbara Marr.”

  She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I think I am needing this form of ID to be sure. You can show me a driver’s license, maybe?”

  This day was getting stranger and stranger. “Seriously? How many people would want to impersonate me?”

  A smile blossomed across her face and her magnified eyes twinkled at me. “I kid you, Barbara Marr. I know you are chum of Bunny’s. She talks about you many times. She tell me you shoot her in the foot to save her life. This is a good friend.”

  I laughed. “Well, I just did what anyone else would have done in the same situation. Is Bunny here?”

  The woman moved toward me with surprising speed. She thrust her hand out. “I am Olga. You must have heard of me.”

  “Yes. Bunny has mentioned you.” I tried not to wince at her vice-tight grip as she pumped my hand.

  “This is good. You follow me now. Bunny, she is not here right now, but she tells me what you need to do. I show you.”

  I followed Olga as she led me out the back door onto the Nature Center terrace. She pointed to a box. “There. You place the little candle thingies out on the path to light the way down to pond.” She opened the box and produced a tea light candle for me to see. “These candle thingies, they are not real. Switch on bottom turns on, turns off.” She pointed a stern finger at me. “You no turn on. Just line path. Then come back when you are done and Bunny, she should be back from store. You understand these instructions I give you?” Olga dipped her chin, her dead-serious eyes challenging me.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She belted out a loud laugh. “Yes, ma’am. You are funny. Bunny say you are very funny lady. Okay. I go now.”

  As Olga dashed off, leaving me to my duty, I noticed a splash of something dark red on the back of her white shoes, but the door closed quickly behind her. It wasn't so important that I needed to chase after her.

  The path leading from the back terrace of the Nature Center down to the frog pond was much longer than I remembered now that I had to line it with lights. When the girls were younger, Howard and I had taken them on the Halloween Nature Walk several times. It was nearly a rite of parental passage in Rustic Woods. The haunted path to the frog pond was just the first leg of the adventure. Certainly there would be more paths to decorate as the day wore on.

  I set the battery-operated tea lights on either side of the path, about two feet apart all the way down. Someone had already done a touch of decorating on the Halloween walk before I arrived. Fake cobwebs covered bushes along the way, a few plastic bats hung from trees, and at the far end of the pond, an effigy of a dead man had been positioned in an Adirondack chair to look as if he’d been stabbed in the chest. Wow, the dead guy was a new addition. He hadn't been here years earlier.

  Leaves rustled in the woods behind me, pulling my attention from the decorations. A gray-haired woman was dashing off into the trees and mumbling something about a dirty cat. Figuring it was just someone looking for her lost animal, I turned back around to take a closer look at the dead body decoration when Bunny called my name from the Center. I set the last tea light down grabbed the empty box and ran back up the winding path to the terrace.

  Bunny was crouched with bent knees, coaxing a squirrel to take some seed from her hand. Unfortunately, when I arrived on the scene, her furry friend scampered off.

  “Will he really eat from your hand?” I asked as I stepped onto the concrete terrace.

  She nodded and rose from her crouch. “Ed Sigmund is very friendly. He’ll eat from Tate’s hand easier than mine, though. He loves Tate.”

  “Ed Sigmund is the squirrel’s name?”

  “We named him after a volunteer who passed away last month. Ed was the nicest guy. Always willing to help out anytime, in any way. And a great donor too. It was Olga’s idea to name the squirrel after him.”

  “Yeah, I met Olga. She scares me. Can you not make her the boss of me again?”

  She pulled a hair tie from her wrist and made a pony tail of her long brown hair. “Olga is a sweetheart. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. She comes across very KGB but she’s all BSH, trust me.”

  “BSH?” I tucked the empty box under one arm.

  “Big Soft Heart.” She pointed to the box. “You set out the tea lights? Were there enough?”

  “Yup.” I rapped the side of the box once. “What’s next?”

  “I want to string lights, but I can’t find them. I think Tate knows where they are. Did you see Tate and Colt down by the pond? They’re supposed to be setting up the animated scarecrow.”

  “My Colt? Colt Baron?”

  In that way that only Colt Baron can make an entrance, he appeared around the corner of the building, a mischievous smile on his face, and a scarecrow tossed over one shoulder.

  “Ah, Curly, I love you, babe, but I’ve got a girlfriend now. I’m not your Colt anymore, gorgeous.”

  “Is Tate with you?” Bunny asked him.

  “He’s coming. Where did you want this again?” Colt placed one hand over the scarecrow’s rear-end, and I tried not to laugh.

  “About half-way down the path. I marked a big S in red spray paint on the ground.”

  “Did you guys set up the murdered man scene at other end of the pond? From the end of the path it looked very realistic.”

  Bunny and Colt looked at me with surprise.

  “What are you talking about?” Bunny asked. The register in her voice raised a couple of octaves and it rattled the way it did when her nerves take over. “Barb, please tell me you’re joking.”

  “The effigy—the dead guy with the knife in his chest. That’s part of the Halloween walk, right?”

  “Curly,” Colt said. “Didn’t I tell you to stop finding dead people?”

  Chapter Two

  Now it was not exactly fair to say that I find dead people. Point of fact: I’d never actually found an entire dead person. Once, a few years ago, I sort of stumbled upon a severed head in House of Many Bones. And another time, not long after that, I hit a woman with my van and thought I’d killed her, but thankfully, I had not. Truthfully, I barely touched her—the reason I thought she was dead was because someone else had already plugged her with three bullets from close range. But she wasn't dead, just almost dead. Then there was that time I found a male genital appendage in the woods while walking Puddles, and if we want to get nitpicky—Puddles found the body part, not me. I was pretty sure he thought it was a new chew toy.

  Today was another story, however. Today I had found a body. Definitely dead, and all in one piece unless you counted lost blood.

  Bunny identified him as Rick Pickleseimer, or as they affectionately referred to him: Pickle. “He was a loyal volunteer here at the Nature Center for over twenty years. I can't imagine that he had any enemies who would want him dead.”

  Neither Colt nor I knew Pickle, but we had to remain on the scene until we could be interviewed by the police investigator. We sat in comfortable rolling chairs in the Center’s conference room. To pass the time, Colt had fashioned a paper football and we flicked it across the table back and forth. I was surprisingly gifted at thi
s game even though I’d never played before.

  “I had a surprise visitor today,” I told him after my third score, the football sailing easily through his index finger goalposts for a field goal. I had better hand-eye coordination than I thought.

  “Don’t tell me—it was a sheriff. Callie finally served you with a restraining order.”

  “Very funny, ha ha. But no. Moyle showed up out of the blue.”

  “You’re finally having Howard circumcised after all these years? Does he know?”

  “Not a mohel. The Moyle. The homeless guy who thinks he’s a time traveler. Vicki still wants to give him part of the lottery winnings.”

  He flicked the football back and nodded in understanding. “That guy. Did you call the police?”

  “I’m not going to call the police. He’s harmless. I keep telling you. I know she’s busy with her book deadline looming, but if he shows up again, I will have to take him over to her house. She wants him to have his share.”

  He stopped and shot me an uncharacteristically serious glare. Colt doesn’t usually do serious. “I don’t think so.”

  I paused mid-flick. “You don’t think so, what?”

  “Don’t take him to Vikki’s.” He shook his finger at me. “That guy shows up again you call me. I have my suspicions about him.” He shook his finger harder. “I repeat: you don’t take him to Vikki’s. You call me.”

  “What suspicions?”

  “Just you never mind.” He gestured for me to continue our game.

  “I think you’re being ridiculously paranoid, but it’s cute nonetheless.” I repositioned the paper on the edge of the table. “Very sweet.”

  “What’s sweet?”

  “You’re being so protective of Vikki. She’s lucky to have you. When are you to going to settle down and make this thing permanent?”

  Colt slid the football toward him after I missed my shot. “Since you asked… I just might pop the question soon. After she turns in her manuscript.”

  “When is the deadline?”

  “Next Saturday. I’m keeping my distance until then—she’s been testy the closer it gets.”

  Folding my arms on the table, I asked the most important question that needed to be asked. “Do you have a ring?”

  Colt blinked. “Should I?”

  I gave that some thought. Vikki was a pretty independent gal who had definite opinions on things. “Maybe not. She might want to pick out her own ring, knowing her.”

  “Where are you going to ask her? That’s important.”

  He readied the football for another kick. “It is?”

  “Of course it is.” I shook my head. “I can see you haven’t thought this through at all. Okay, I’ll put some ideas down on paper. We’ll make this the best proposal ever.” My face softened and my eyes got a little misty as I realized how big a step this was. “I can’t believe it. My little Colt is getting married.”

  His face blanched, his hands went limp, the football fell. “Married? That suddenly sounds very final.”

  “Not final!” I gave him a frown. “Enduring. Eternal. Everlasting. Don’t wimp out on me now, Coltrane Amadeus Baron. She’s the perfect woman for you.”

  My lecture would have continued if the conference door hadn’t pushed open. As luck would have it the man behind the push was our friend on the police force, Eric LaMon. When I first met Eric, he was a beat cop answering my call to assist with a monkey infestation in my trees. Like I tell all my single friends, he looked a lot like Brad Pitt. Now out of uniform and sporting a snazzy tie, Eric wore his investigator’s badge on his belt with pride.

  “I just can’t take you two anywhere, can I?” he joked, taking a seat at the table with us.

  “So, you’re the man on this case, huh?” Colt quipped.

  Eric drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m the man, man. Here to see which one of you criminals killed my Nature Center volunteer.”

  “Can you interview me first?” I asked, sending Eric my sweetest smile. “I’d like to be back home before the girls get off the bus.”

  “That’s not fair,” Colt whined. “She always plays the mommy card.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Tell you what: get married, have some kids and you can play the daddy card.”

  “Touché.” Colt stood. “I assume you need me to leave?”

  Eric twisted his head to nod at Colt. “It shouldn’t take long.”

  With Colt out of the room, Eric threw a note pad on the table and slid me a long sideways glance. “Barb, Barb, Barb. What are we going to do with you? Another body?”

  “First, I’ve done the math and technically this is my first, intact corpse discovery. Second, I didn’t even know he was dead. I thought he was a Halloween decoration. And before I forget, Olga has something red on her shoes. Could be blood. Check that out.” I pointed at his note pad.

  He scribbled.

  “Have you interviewed her yet?” I asked.

  “No. You’re the first. I’ll interview employees after you and Colt.”

  “She’s got this rigid KGB kind of vibe.” I lowered my voice. “I could see her being a killer.”

  I waited for him to scribble some more, but he didn’t. “You’re not writing that down. Shouldn’t you write that down?”

  “No, I don’t think I will, but thank you.” Eric leaned back in the chair. “Tell me what you were doing when you found the body.”

  “Bunny asked me to help set up for the Halloween walk because her volunteers were all sick with the flu.” I gave him a verbal recount of my task, setting the battery-operated tea lights along the path starting at the back of the building and down the meandering path, and noticing the very realistic dead body in the Adirondack chair across on the pond on the other side. “It’s a Halloween event—don’t you think it’s reasonable that I thought he was a decoration and not a dead guy?”

  “Absolutely,” he agreed. “Were you alone when you were putting the lights on the path?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see anyone else or did anyone else see you?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Just Pickle. Poor Pickle. Bunny said he was a nice guy.”

  He scribbled some more. “Did you hear anything out of the ordinary before or after discovering the body?”

  My immediate reaction was to say no. I hadn’t heard anything. “Squirrels rustling in the leaves maybe, but other than that…” Remembering the sound of leaves rustling brought back to mind the woman in the woods. “I did see someone, but only from the back. She was hurrying away. Silver hair that was long and straight and pulled back in a pony tail. Even in a pony tail I think her hair went below her waist.”

  “Anything else you remember about her?” Eric asked, his pencil poised above the paper.

  “Yes. She said something but I couldn’t tell if she was talking to herself or on a cell phone.”

  “Could you hear what she said?”

  “Something about a dirty cat. At least that’s what it sounded like. It didn’t seem important at the time.” Then it hit me. “Wait a minute. Maybe she was saying ‘dirty rat’. She stabbed Pickle and ran off calling him a dirty rat. That’s it. There’s your killer. Write that down.”

  Just then, the door pushed open and a uniformed police officer with a drawn face addressed Eric. “Excuse me Detective, but a woman just arrived on the scene. Says she wants to confess to the murder.”

  Chapter Three

  As I followed Eric out into the reception area, I was convinced that the long-haired old lady would be standing there waiting to give her confession. She probably knew I’d seen her and that the jig was up. My chest was a bit puffed up from pride that I’d called it so quickly.

  Only, as it turned out, I was wrong. The person confessing was elderly, but she wasn’t my old woman. This new woman sat on the bench across from the reception desk, wringing her knobby-jointed hands. Her nails were manicured a tasteful shade of pink, but her hair color was a rather shocking orange. Not a pleasant
Maureen O’Hara Irish redhead kind of orange. No, this was more like someone dipped her head in a vat of drugstore-purchased dye meant for t-shirts or the Golden Gate Bridge. Anyway, the woman’s short, bouffant was teased and styled much the same way my own grandmother had worn her hair for so many years.

  Orange Bouffant Lady stood at the sight of Eric and began blabbering dramatically. “I did it. I killed Pickle. Richard Pickleseimer, that’s his full name. Killed him dead, I tell you. We fought and finally I couldn’t take it any more and...and, I did it. Stabbed him with a knife. Big, big knife. And, and, there was blood. That’s right, blood.” She inhaled deeply, then added, “And if he isn’t actually dead, but just injured, I still did it.” Orange Bouffant Lady leaned toward Eric and presented her wrists so he could cuff her immediately. “I assume you’ll want to arrest me now?

  “I don’t think so,” he said, then gestured toward the conference room. “Why don’t we go into this room here where we can have a little privacy, and I can gather some more information first.”

  Bunny had been sitting quietly at the reception desk during the woman’s rant. When Eric and the woman disappeared behind the conference room door, I stepped over to the desk. “Who was that?”

  “Del Rowenhorst,” Bunny said. “She volunteers here at the front desk Monday mornings until we hire a new receptionist. We kind of wondered if she and Pickle were dating.”