Madison Johns - Agnes Barton 02 - Grannies, Guns and Ghosts

by Madison Johns

  I gave Peterson the eye, “I watch CSI every week and an autopsy is always performed.”

  “And falls are fairly frequent for the older population.”

  “Not from a third story window, Sheriff,” I countered.

  “The decision has already been made so drop it. If we ordered autopsies every time one of you seniors died, we’d be doing them all the time.”

  “Something I need to know about, Sheriff, like is there an unusual amount of senior citizens dying of late?”

  He opened his mouth but then clammed up.

  “Her blaming a ghost wasn’t enough for you, huh? I don’t know why I keep trying to talk to you when you’re so dead set on disagreeing with me on every account.”

  He rolled forward, the wheels of his chair straining under his weight. “Then find something to convince me it was not an accident.”

  “When I find out I’m right about Herman’s death, you’ll eat your words.”

  “You do that and I’ll send the two of you on a trip to Florida.”

  We left, the sound of his laughter followed us to the front door.

  “Did the sheriff really encourage us to investigate?” El asked.

  “Sounds like it, but then again, there isn’t sound proof Herman didn’t fall to his death. He also knows we will investigate like always.”

  “True, but did he really mean it or is he setting us up. I’d hate to be arrested again.”

  “Really? You looked so good in cuffs.” I nudged her in the ribs. “Peterson has a valid point though, us seniors are accident prone.”

  El snickered. “Remind me to stay clear of open windows.”

  Waves crashed in the distance and the aroma of fish was thick in the air. The wind had died down a bit and my thoughts trailed off. I hoped Peterson would allow us the room we needed to investigate. With law enforcement on tight budgets these days, he could well afford two extra pairs of eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  El and I sat in the Caddy parked in the one place I thought I’d never be, Clean Sweep, Tadium, Michigan. It’s a quaint new spa of some sort or so Eleanor had said. Looking at the small purple building with a peacock painted near the front door, I had guessed this was gonna be a one of a kind experience.

  “So why didn’t they open this place in Tawas?” I asked curiously.

  El grinned. “It’s against some sort of ordinance.”

  “Really, which one?”

  “I don’t know, Aggie. Quit being a sour puss and come inside with me. It’s too hot to stay outside in the car.”

  I followed Eleanor inside where a register was located along one wall with shelves built into the wall with an assortment of nail and skin care products on display. Through a pair of glass doors were racks of brightly-colored apparel and hats.

  A woman stood at the ready with a tray of assorted nail polishes displayed on it. “Would you like a manicure?” the petite blond asked.

  “No, we’d like to be strip mined today,” El stated as she rubbed her chin.

  “Oh my!” the girl’s tray rattled something fierce. “I didn’t know women… I mean, oh my I don’t know what I mean.”

  “You was gonna say old, right?” I laughed. I put a hand up and whispered. “Not the way to go with this one.” I pointed at Eleanor.

  “Right! Even us older gals like to trim the hedges every once in a while.” El nudged me. “Isn’t that right, Aggie.”

  “I’m not certain what you’re even referring to. I’m sure I don’t care to know either.”

  Just then a door popped open and a young woman staggered out, her hand clasped over her lower region. I didn’t have to guess any longer what kind of place this was. It was no place I cared to be I’m quite certain.

  “You can quit gawking, Aggie. Flies might be drawn in dear,” El said with a smile. “You’re making that young lady at the register nervous.”

  “She looks like she’s in distress!”

  “That’s how it always feels afterward. It’s a perfectly normal reaction.”

  “Can we leave now, please?”

  I had covered my womanly parts at this point. I think I was having sympathy pains for the poor thing that wobbled out of the shop with a pained and contorted expression on her face.

  The woman manning the register acknowledged El. “Hello, Eleanor. I had expected you earlier this week.”

  “We got tied up on a case and were too busy. This here is Agnes Barton.” El thumbed toward me.

  Her mouth sprung open, “Really, the famous private investigator?”

  “Well, next to me, yes.” Eleanor searched about the room. “Do you have time for a quick appointment or should we come back?”

  “Of course I have time for two such famous investigators. Follow me into the back.” She giggled. “Name’s Stacey,” she said over her shoulder.

  Stacey was a plus-sized woman with a plus-sized personality, complete with a lopsided grin plastered on her face. Her cheeks were stained with rouge and she wore way too much blue eye shadow for a proprietor of such a business as this or maybe not now that I think about it.

  In the back room was a lounging chair that looked like something you’d see in a dentist office, not a place of this sort.

  Stacey dusted off the seat and put a paper sheet down. “Who’s first?”

  “For what exactly?” I eyed wax containers with brushes crammed into them. It didn’t look a bit sanitary to me.

  “We specialize in bikini waxes; of course,” Stacey said, “but I imagine you two might prefer to have your facial hair done.

  “I don’t, I said. “If I start doing that it will grow back like a forest.”

  Eleanor scoffed. “Quit being a fuddy duddy. Stacey here has strip-mined the women of Tadium for the last ten months.

  I shook my head. “I think not.” From the expression on Stacey’s face, I think she likes her job a little too much.

  “I think, yes,” El said as she pushed me down on the reclining chair.

  I waved her off, “No thanks dear, but I insist on clean brushes for El.” I shot off the chair like it was on fire.

  “Sure thing,” Stacey said as she went off and returned with the items I had requested and when she returned, “I heard there was an accident at the Butler Mansion.”

  “Really, Stacey?” I smiled as El sat down.

  “Herman Butler’s wife was in here before her husband died. She was going on and on about her wedding and how happy she was that she wouldn’t have to struggle for money anymore.”

  My brow rose. “That’s interesting.”

  “Doesn’t sound like she’d want him dead then does it, Aggie,” El added, “Seems like she might have found her golden ticket.”

  “That’s why she makes a perfect suspect.” I watched nervously as Stacey applied wax to El’s hairy chin. The strips went down and were yanked off without one scream from El. “Hey what gives?”

  “I applied the Wax and Relax No Scream Cream before I came here,” El said. “It does work wonders.” She grinned. “Aggie, I told you she’s a professional.”

  Out of the blue, “So you suspect the widow?” Stacey asked.

  “Her husband died a little too soon after the wedding for me, out a window no less.”

  “Wow that is bad luck.”

  “And hardly an accident,” Eleanor added.

  I peered at El’s face to assure her skin was intact. “Amazing.”

  Aggie, you should really consider getting your facial hair waxed. I hate to tell you this, but yours is getting very noticeable,” she said, staring intently at my upper lip.

  “That’s the cruelest thing you have ever said to me, El.”

  “How can that be, I’m fairly certain I have said way worse things to you before.” She coughed.

  Eleanor cleaned up and we waltzed to the register.

  “You know, Miss Agnes… Betty Lou Butler goes to Hidden Cove every Wednesday,” she frowned, “but so does Sheriff Peterson.”

  I sighe
d. “Tonight, drat. I was hoping to do some investigating, but Peterson will just get in the way.”

  “I could help you.” Stacey grinned. “I know how to keep a man busy.” She batted her eyelashes.

  I choked. “Seriously?”

  Eleanor patted Stacey on the back. “I think he’s married though.”

  Stacey grinned at that. “I know he is, but all I had planned to do was distract him. I’ll keep him plenty busy,” Stacey reassured me.

  “So you’ll help us out?” I asked enthused.

  “Sure, it’ll be the closest I ever get to being an actual investigator.”

  We left and Eleanor lit into me. “What did you do that for? I think two investigators is enough.”

  “She seems real nice and we could use someone to distract the good sheriff while we do some digging. Plus, I heard they were ship spotting there tonight.”

  Eleanor rubber her hands together, “Oh, I had forgotten about that, I heard it might be foggy tonight too. It’s perfect ghost-ship-spotting weather.”

  “See, we can kill two birds with a bat. Stacey can get a chance to keep Peterson busy and we can hopefully spot a ghost ship.”

  “Hey, since when are you interested in ghost ships?”

  “I haven’t thought of anything else since you brought it up.” I lied, but could tell by El’s facial expression she wasn’t buying into it.

  “Who are you planning to question at Hidden Cove?”

  “I was hoping we could do a little eavesdropping and play it by ear.”

  “You’re an evil woman, Agnes. I love it, but didn’t Peterson give us the go ahead to investigate?”

  “Since Peterson is so intent on thinking her husband’s death was an accident, you know he won’t let us really investigate the woman without him being close by.”

  “He knows us too well by now, I suppose,” Eleanor added. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he had us watched.”

  “I’m quite sure he hasn’t either the gumption or resources to do that.”

  “That’s another good reason to have some senior snoops like us.”

  “You’re right, El. We’re actually doing him a favor,” she winked.

  Chapter Ten

  El, Stacey, and I were in strategic positions on the deck at Hidden Cove, a little bar and grill. We were next to the railing that overlooked Lake Huron. El and I were dressed in dark clothing with Detroit Tiger ball caps on our heads. I figured when it got dark, we’d be invisible to most any passerby as the lighting on this deck at night was less than desirable. I don’t think anybody would ever guess who we were. I snickered, not that it mattered. Trying to remain incognito in a small town was like trying to say the sky isn’t blue. Stacey on the other hand wore a white ensemble with plunging neckline. Of course her bosom was quite a bit more south, but the men who passed by didn’t seem to mind.

  El pointed across the room. “Look, Agnes, Betty Lou is here,” El said. We spied her lingering by the doorway.

  I frowned. “So is Peterson.”

  Stacey jumped up. “That’s my cue.”

  I frowned. “I wonder why Peterson shows up here every Wednesday?”

  Eleanor shrugged. “Beats me, but maybe he really is ‘keeping an eye on the widow like he said.”

  “You should know by now I’m not counting all my chickens over that one. We can find out way more than him.”

  “How true you are, Aggie. The law has its restrictions.”

  “That’s why being an investigator is more interesting.”

  Stacey was laughing at whatever Peterson had said. He must have been feeling mighty uncomfortable as he yanked at his shirt.

  I laughed. “He’s way out of his comfort zone.”

  Eleanor sipped her tiny drink that had a tiny umbrella inside. “Yup, she’s blocking his view too.”

  A crowd filtered on the deck with drinks in hand. Since Michigan banned smoking in bars and restaurants, it was much easier to breathe out here too. Hidden Cove didn’t allow smoking on the deck either. “Fancy meeting you here,” a voice suddenly said into my ear, and I nearly jumped out of my chair.

  “What in the hell?” I stared right into Andrew’s eyes.

  He eyed my apparel. “Cute hat and attire.” He grinned.

  “I think the Tigers might make it to the World Series this year.”

  “Since when are you into baseball?”

  I cleared my throat, “Actually I don’t mind watching a game.”

  “It’s the only time she has a nap,” El cut in.

  I gave El the eye, but ignored her taunt and tried my best to act nonchalant. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same thing as you I expect.” He stared across the lake and then in Betty Lou’s direction.

  I searched the room a moment before spotting the woman I had seen Andrew talking to at the funeral home.

  “Maybe you should get back to your girlfriend.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should.”

  He trounced away in a huff. I stared at his ass the whole way too. “It’s just criminal for a man to look that good at seventy,” I muttered. Tears threatened to spill, but I wouldn’t allow them to. “See! He’s with that woman!”

  “He never said that, Aggie, you just assumed it.”

  I sipped my wine. “He didn’t dispute the fact.”

  “He didn’t say anything about her, you did.”

  I grumbled under my breath. “This is the main reason I haven’t bothered with men all these years.”

  “You are so over-blowing the situation. No committed man looks at a woman like he was looking at you, and that’s all I’m saying on the subject.” She shifted her gaze to the lake.

  “Shhh,” I said.

  Betty Lou Butler walked from the doorway just then, her arm looped around a rather tall man, while another joined them.

  The threesome sat the next table over from us. So as not to be noticed, I snapped my attention and watched the sun disappear from the horizon with a display of pink and orange.

  “Pink sky night, sailor’s delight,” I said.

  “What does that mean, Aggie?”

  “It means it’s going to be a good day tomorrow, but if pink sky day, sailors be warned.”

  “Is there any truth to that poem?”

  “The other day it was pink at sunrise and look what kind of storm occurred. You more than anyone else should know it’s true, you have lived on Lake Huron long enough to know first-hand.”

  El groaned. “You’re expecting too much from my old mind.”

  I sat upright, shocked. “Since when did you start referring to yourself as old anything?”

  Eleanor smirked. “I know, them be some fighting words.”

  We both hushed up and listened to the waves breaking to beach, a soothing sound that made me wish I was tucked in bed, not here.

  The conversation from Betty Lou’s table drifted to us. I smiled. Things are going according to plan so far.

  “So they spotted a real ghost ship on Lake Huron,” a man’s voice asked.

  The other man responded. “I told you so, Troy.”

  “I’m asking the lady here, not you, Nate.”

  “Yup, so they say. Erie Board of Trade,” Betty Lou informed them.

  “That is just an old ghost story, they say,” Troy countered.

  “If you believe that, then why are you boys even in Tawas?” Betty Lou mused.

  Troy leaned in, “It sure would be an interesting show for us, although we are more into investigating haunted houses.”

  “I might be able to help you two out with that. It seems a ghost had pushed my husband to his death at my house. If you two could prove the house is haunted, then maybe I could clear up some loose ends and be able to sell that house.”

  “A ghost killed your husband?” Nate asked.

  “Yes, he plunged to his death from a third floor window.”

  “We’d love to investigate your house. Where is it located?” Troy asked.

 
“It’s the Butler Mansion, but I’m afraid I have been locked out.” She pouted.

  “Why is that?” Nate asked. “They don’t believe it’s really an accident or the work of a ghost?”

  “No, it seems public opinion has swayed the town against me via a couple of snoopy old bats playing investigator. I had three people stop me while I was shopping at Walmart to ask me ‘if I really killed my husband like Agnes Barton said’.”

  Eleanor started to stand, but I grabbed her arms to force her to sit. “Ouch, that hurt,” she whispered.

  “I know, that was the point. You know dang well we need to keep on the down low.”

  El adjusted her sunglasses. “I’m curious about why she was locked out.”

  “Very, maybe the sheriff really is watching the widow like you said.” I yawned. “We need to find out who ordered the lock down.”

  Waves suddenly crashed to the beach at a harder pace. We jumped to our feet and all stared out into Lake Huron. In the far distance, we saw a steamship with smoke billowing behind it causing quite a smoke cloud in its wake.

  “It’s the Erie!” a woman screamed.

  Soon after the deck was overloaded with spectators and we were pushed to the rails. We splayed our arms out, grasped the railing, and tried to keep our footing.

  “Watch out! Old ladies here folks,” I said.

  Obviously nobody had heard us as the crowd continued to push forward like they were at a rock concert. A spotlight split the night air and flashbulbs went off in unison.

  El and I just struggled to keep from being crushed beneath the weight of the crowd.

  As the spotlight swept across the now dark lake, a bell sounded in the distance, but nothing was notably visible. Yet waves continued to pound the beach.

  Even me, the unbeliever of the bunch, began to believe there really was a ghost ship. This is just impossible, because ghost ships just don’t exist. I had lived near Tawas long enough, and I knew steamships don’t sail the Great Lakes anymore. Although, I could still smell the smoke that had billowed in the air as it drifted to where we stood gawking.

  Within five minutes, the crowd dispersed and El and I could relax from the near panic we had felt. Okay, so maybe a ghost ship could be sailing Lake Huron, but why now and not before? It just seemed wrong, if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes—not that I could visualize much of anything.