I sighed. “I suppose, but I just hope none of the cops recognize us.”
“I’m renting you a Cadillac, too,” Martha said. “We need to make this look as believable as possible. Anyone who would legitimately be looking into buying the Butler Mansion would drive a nice car, so you can’t show up in anything less.”
We went through the KFC drive-thru and the cashier, Ella, waved. She obviously had gotten a promotion and no longer makes biscuits. “I know you girls aren’t murderers,” she told us. “That Mildred was always such a pain in the rump. I hope you’re asking that Hal Peterson some hard questions. He was dating her, after all.”
I thanked her, and we took our food home. When we unpacked the bags, we realized that they had forgotten to include those spoon-thingy’s with the fork prongs, like usual. Luckily, the cabin was stocked with silverware and dishes, so it didn’t stop us from eating. Between mouthfuls, I asked Martha, “What time will the new car be here?”
“It won’t be here, Mother. We can’t risk anyone seeing the rented vehicle at this cabin. We really want the cops to believe that someone new in town is interested in the Butler Mansion.”
“Where do you want us to meet you?”
“I’ll meet you at the public beach. You’ll have to walk there, of course, and you two can change your clothes there.”
“Wh-What?” El spat. “That’s a long walk.”
“Oh, quit complaining, El. Martha’s trying to help us out here. If it weren’t for her, we’d still be facing breaking and entering charges.”
“I know. My leg is just acting up.”
“We both could use a little more exercise, dear.”
After dinner we walked out the patio door and admired the pink sunset, which was accented with rays of orange and yellow. “I hope everything goes according to plan tomorrow,” I mused. “I just wonder who on earth could be involved in Mildred’s murder. She’s not the type to get herself involved in mischief.”
“Not that we know of, Aggie, but maybe she didn’t realize what she was getting herself into,” El pointed out.
“Sometimes we trust the wrong people,” Martha added. “I can so identify.”
“Yes, but you’ve really turned your life around, Martha. I’m proud of you,” I told her. “I really thought you’d be living with me forever.”
Martha nodded, wiping at a few tears. “Me too, but don’t think for a minute I’m giving up my cat suits. It’s part of who I am, but it’s time to slow down. I’m going to be a grandma soon, after all.”
“I know.” That’s what bothered me the most, that the baby’s arrival was so close and Trooper Sales really thought me capable of murder. How would I ever be able to sit in a room with him again? Yes, I had more reasons than ever to prove our innocence.
We watched the orange and pink sky until darkness fell. Then Martha left, and El and I went to our separate rooms. The silence was deafening to me. If we couldn’t prove our innocence, then what would we do? I hated the thought that we could be sent to prison for something we didn’t do. I also knew that El and I would have to face Mildred’s sister, Elsie, sooner or later. We could only postpone the inevitable so long.
Chapter Three
I awoke to the smell of bacon cooking, and I lumbered out of bed and into the kitchen to assure myself that Eleanor wouldn’t burn it to a crisp, as she’d been known to do.
“Morning, Sunshine.” Eleanor shot me one of her trademark grins.
“Is it?” I asked. “Morning or sunshine?” I yawned, pulling my robe tighter around me.
“Both, but the mist hasn’t cleared off the lake just yet.” She slid a mug toward me, and I inhaled the wonderful smell of the brew with vanilla creamer already inside. “Thanks, El. Maybe this rooming together thing won’t be so bad.”
Eleanor’s hands went to her wide hips, and she asked, “And why ever did you think it would be?”
I sipped my coffee. “We just haven’t lived in such close quarters before.”
“This cabin is quite spacious, if you ask me. It sure will be strange when Mr. Wilson visits, though. He has you pegged for a troublemaker. Somehow, he has the impression that you really killed Mildred, but I guess I would have thought so, too, if I wasn’t with you so much.”
I raised a brow. “Oh, really? And I suppose if Dorothy Alton keeled over, I’d think the same of you, but I know it’s all in fun. Lately, you two have gotten along quite nicely. It’s like those early cases never happened.”
“Oh, they did all right. We nearly lost our lives! She’s not so bad anymore. I’ve grown used to her and her strange ways, like thinking every woman is after her Frank. I hope she realizes by now we’re both more concerned with solving crimes.”
“She was helpful to a point in Florida.”
“Yes, she was, but truthfully, that really bugged me. It hurts to think you’d prefer to investigate without me.”
“No worries there. I know, in the past, we’ve had our times when we were at odds with one another, but overall, you are my best friend, and I’d be lost without you. What can I say but I love you, old girl.”
We hugged briefly and then ate our breakfast in silence as we looked out at the lake. The clouds parted, and we glimpsed the first rays of sunlight. The trouble was that the weatherman predicted temperatures to be in the 80s later today, which meant we would roast in those long-sleeved dresses we had planned to wear for our excursion.
After breakfast, we made our way out the door wearing white, knee-length shorts and white tees. I carried a backpack filled with our disguises that we planned to change into at the beach. Tourists were packed on US 23, bumper-to-bumper, heading into East Tawas. Summer was in full swing.
“My legs are killing me,” Eleanor complained after a while.
“Mine too, but we can’t quit. We’re almost there.”
We crossed over the guardrail and made our way to the bathroom. There was only one stall open so we both crowded in together to change. As I stepped out of my shorts, Eleanor’s elbow jabbed me in the chin. “Sorry,” El said. We tried to keep our limbs to ourselves as we finished changing. I was dripping sweat by the time we made it back outside, and I tried to figure out how to put the hijab on. Then we heard giggling, and we looked up to see a group of Muslim women staring at us. “I don’t suppose you could help us?”
A young woman came forward and adjusted the scarves for us. “Are you Muslim?” she asked.
“Not exactly. We’re kinda going incognito.”
“Aha,” she said as she joined her friends, and they all walked away.
Martha was in the parking lot and laughed when she saw us, falling over the hood of a shiny black Cadillac. “This is better than I thought. You two look ridiculous. I hope I can keep a straight face when we get to the Butler Mansion. You look like a nun, Mother.”
I eyed Martha’s blue suit and snickered myself. “And to think you’re the one who looks like a Wall Street gal. I scarcely know you anymore.”
“Don’t worry about that one. I transform into a she-devil when I get home.”
She handed me the keys before climbing into a blue Impala. Seconds later, she tore off down the drive, skipping stones as she went. Obviously, Martha had rented a car for herself as well. She usually tooled around town in her seventies station wagon. I unlocked the Cadillac door, and we stepped in, sinking down into the leather upholstery. I was in heaven. “We really need to get one of these for you, El,” I told her.
“I know, right?”
I slid the key into the ignition and turned it. There were so many gadgets on the dashboard that I thought I was in a space shuttle. “It has a touch screen radio.” I laughed.
“And powered seats with temperature control,” I added.
Eleanor proceeded to move her seat like she was on a carnival ride. “Oh, what fun.”
I told her to sit still, making my way onto US 23 and whizzing toward the Butler Mansion. “This car has so much power,” I informed Eleanor.
&n
bsp; “And oh, what a ride. So smooth.”
When we drove up the drive to the Butler Mansion, sure enough, there was an unmarked police cruiser parked nearby. Martha was leaning into the car when I pulled up. I couldn’t hear what she told the cops, but they took off.
Eleanor and I met Martha on the front steps of the mansion, and I just had to ask, “So what gives?”
“Oh, I just told them they better skedaddle because I had a potential buyer on the hook. When I mentioned they were from overseas, they took off. I might also have mentioned that if they messed up my sale, I might just have to inform their wives that they didn’t really work overtime last week.” Martha winked.
“Who were they, anyway? Anyone we know?”
“Deputy Samson. He’s new to the area. I believe he’s from Redwater. You know, the same place Clay Barry was from. I heard Clay was elected sheriff there after he withdrew from the election here.”
Good riddance, was my thought. “Oh, really?” I kept my face blank. “How nice.”
Martha unlocked the door and fired back with, “You really shouldn’t act like you like someone when you don’t. Just be happy that Clay Barry isn’t sheriff in Tawas now. I daresay you’d be still locked up.”
“We almost were. Trooper Sales was quite dreadful to us, I’ll have you know.”
“He’s just doing his job, Mother, and it wasn’t without repercussions at home. Sophia made him sleep on the couch.”
I smiled. “Oh, that’s too bad, but it couldn’t happen to a better trooper.”
“Mother, what are you smiling about? Sophia is married to Sales, and no amount of bad blood should come between them. They have a baby that will be born soon.”
“I can’t help how I feel, but I doubt you could understand when he wasn’t asking you why you killed Mildred.”
“What did you expect? That he’d just give you the benefit of the doubt? You were found here at the same time the body was discovered,” Martha said, looking at me pointedly.
Eleanor reminded us, “We’re here to see if a painting is missing, remember? Aggie, you really need to just let this go. The only way we’ll be able to change anyone’s opinion is if we find the real killer.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. Whoever killed Mildred must have known the code to the alarm. Who else had the code?” I asked Martha.
“Everyone at Sunshine Realty could give the code out, but only if there is a verified listing. And the seller has it, of course.”
“Which is?”
“Sara Knoxville. The actress, remember?” Eleanor said. “She was Herman Butler’s daughter.”
“Which is another thing. I didn’t think the mansion could be sold?”
“Oh, that,” Martha started. “A lawyer found a loophole. It seems that the mansion can be sold as long as it isn’t torn down and as long as the family cemetery isn’t moved.”
“Who on earth would move a cemetery?” I asked.
“Nobody with half a brain, unless they want a poltergeist on their hands,” El said with widened eyes.
I frowned, not liking where the conversation was going. “I’d rather not talk about anything supernatural, if you don’t mind.”
“You’re right there,” El said, nodding. “We heard a ghost in the Butlers’ attic,” she added to Martha.
“We think we did,” I chimed in. “Let’s take a look around before the cops come back.”
Martha flicked on the lights, which didn’t ease my mind a bit when I saw the grotesque figures etched into the mantle of the fireplace. We moved down the hallway, and I entered the kitchen, where a blood pool was still present. Martha began to open drawers and found some towels, wiping up the mess until the ceramic tile floor was cleaned up. “See, that’s better,” she said when she was finished.
We followed Martha up the stairs. Once the hallway lights were flicked on, I examined the walls carefully. They were covered with wallpaper that had a raised pattern on a cream background. Paintings of the Butler descendants were staggered at intervals a few feet from one another. “So much for this floor,” I announced.
We wandered to the third floor, and as we scanned the paintings there, one blank space, with yellowed wallpaper, obviously missing the painting that used to hang there, greeted us. “There was a painting here. I’m sure of it. Remember, Eleanor?”
“I’d rather not remember, but you’re right. There is a missing painting, after all.”
“I told you so, Eleanor.”
“I know you did, but I didn’t believe you. What now?”
“Someone has the missing painting, and it might have a treasure map hidden in it.”
“How do you plan on finding out who took it, Aggie? It’s not like they left a clue behind for us.”
“We’ll question Hal Peterson and pray that he knows something.”
El made her way back down the stairs. “Humph. Fat chance of him remembering anything.”
“You should notify the police that a painting is indeed missing, Martha. It might just help our case.”
Martha massaged her knuckles. “I’m just not sure. What if they think you stole it? You were here last night.”
“The police know perfectly well that we didn’t have any painting the night that Mildred was murdered. We were arrested, remember? There’s no way we could have left with a painting.”
“Fine. You two leave, and I’ll figure out how I’m going to report this without making it look like you two were here tonight.”
“Just tell them you noticed it when you were showing the house.”
“They’ll want names and details!”
“Calm down. You have to report the crime.”
Martha paused for a minute, then shouted, “Fine. Get out of here, then!”
We left and drove back into town, to where Hal Peterson, Sheriff Peterson’s father, was holed up at Bambi’s Motel for a few days while his apartment was being repainted. We knocked on the door and he let us in. Inside, we were surprised to see a young boy of about twelve sitting on the multicolored comforter on the bed and playing video games on the television.
“Hal, who is this?” I asked him.
“This is my grandson, Calvin Peterson, Jr. He’s visiting from Florida,” Hal said. When he spoke, he revealed his nearly toothless grin. Then his eyes narrowed. “Who are you two? I didn’t order any mail order brides.”
“Agnes Barton and Eleanor Mason, remember?”
A smile split his face. “Oh, I remember—you’re the hookers. You’re not going to get any business dressed like a couple of nuns.”
El winked and fired back, “You never know. Some men are into role-playing.”
“Stop it, the both of you. Hal knows we aren’t hookers, Eleanor.”
I cleared my thoughts and stared at his grandson. Calvin had a head full of blond curls, which made his rail-thin body look even smaller. “What are you playing?” I asked the kid.
“Minecraft,” he replied. “Oh, look. I have kittens. Oops, one of them just died.”
El wrinkled her nose. “What’s the point of this game?”
“You just build stuff,” he said. “It’s too complex for old people.”
I nodded in agreement, but Eleanor convinced the kid to let her try, which she did while I questioned Hal. “I’m sorry about Mildred Winfree,” I said.
His eyes bugged out. “Who?”
“The woman you were dating.”
“Oh, her,” he snapped. “We haven’t been dating for a while now. She found herself another fella from out of town.”
I sat on the bed. “Oh, really? Who?”
“I don’t know, but he was way younger than me. If I knew his name I’d have done something rash. He’s one of those city folks, you know. Dressed like he was a lawyer or something. My Mildred never stood a chance,” he sniveled. “Why would anyone kill her? Sure, she was irritating, but it just doesn’t make sense.”
“Like, how young was this man?”
“I don’t know. Thi
rties, or maybe younger.”
“What do you mean, you would have done something rash?”
“I’d have given that man a real manhandling. I should have put a stop to it when it began, but Mildred insisted nothing was going on. Then she quit coming around, and I just gave up on her.”
“I’m so sorry. Don’t blame yourself, Hal. We’re going to find out who did this and bring them to justice. Thanks for the information.” I pulled on El’s dress, and she followed me to the door.
“I’m sweating bricks in this thing,” Eleanor whined. “Please, can’t we change?”
“Not yet. We’re going to head over to Elsie Bradford’s house.”
“Seriously, do you want her to run us outta town on a rail?”
I just didn’t see the humor in that, and I hoped Elsie wouldn’t have a pitchfork handy.
Chapter Four
We pulled up to Elsie’s house and recognized a few of the cars that were parked in the drive. Oh, great. Dorothy and Frank Alton were there, and Marjory and Bill Hays. I had hoped to be able to have a quiet talk with Elsie without input from the peanut gallery. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to get out of the car.
“Uh-oh,” El said. “So much for a quiet conversation with Elsie. We’re gonna be on the hot seat for sure.”
“It looks that way, but it might not be so bad. Surely someone with half a brain would know we didn’t do this … kill Mildred, I mean.”
“Maybe you’re right, but just in case, I’ll bring in my purse. We might have to shoot our way out of there.”
“Tell me you don’t have another handgun in your big black purse again. We agreed … no more guns!”
“No, you agreed. I just went along with it to make you happy.”
“What is it, another Pink Lady?”
“Nope, a Sig Sauer® Mosquito.” She flashed me the gun and then buried it back in her purse.
“Oh, great. I hope you don’t shoot yourself in the foot with that thing!” I said fiercely. “Whatever you do, please leave that in your bag.”
“I will try, but if those girls get out of hand … it’s outta the bag,” she said with menacing intent. “You just never know if Elsie is gonna go all postal on you, dear.”
Madison Johns - Agnes Barton 05 - Treasure in Tawas Page 3