“Hmm… well, how about if we meet tomorrow morning then. Say, ten. Does that work for you?”
“Ten is fine.”
She hung up and glanced at her watch. It was almost five. She had slept for nearly two hours! It was probably too late to pay another visit to Aunt Lenore’s and still make it to Polly’s. But she suspected the old woman to be an early riser. She’d stop by first thing in the morning before her appointment with the rude Detective Ford and see if she couldn’t take a peek into that box.
CHAPTER NINE
POLLY’S APARTMENT HADN’T CHANGED a lot since the last time Judith had been there. And, like the foam curlers now rolled into Polly’s red hair, pink still ruled. But not that dusty-rose shade that had become popular in more recent decades. No, Polly still clung to that Pepto-Bismol shade straight out of the fifties, making Judith unexpectedly long for a spoonful of the chalky, wintergreen-flavored medicine. Or perhaps it was simply the effect of the overpoweringly sweet and musky smell that permeated the entire room. She walked gingerly across the matted pale pink carpet, trying not to stare at the numerous telltale stains, most likely the result of the fluffy creature Polly was just now confining to the tiny bathroom. “Sorry about that.” she called over her shoulder. “Go ahead and sit down. Make yourself at home.”
The moment Judith had entered Polly’s pink haven, the tiny white dog had yipped nonstop while it simultaneously nipped at her loafers, acting like some deranged, shoe-eating, mechanical windup toy. Her second negative encounter with canines today. And here she thought she liked dogs and they liked her. Well, people do change. Maybe there was something about her that animals could sniff out. Or maybe she was just imagining things.
She sat down on the worn velvet sofa which was, no big surprise, pink as well. And like everything else in Polly’s life, the sofa sagged in the middle. She studied the chipped vase on the wood laminate coffee table across from her; it
was filled with a stiff bouquet of faded pink roses, their rigid petals coated with a greasy layer of old dust. Plastic, of course, and yet she couldn’t recall seeing real plastic flowers since back in the seventies. Like a life frozen in time. With only mild interest, she wondered if the strange plastic blooms might actually be collectable in some circles nowadays.
“Sorry about that, honey.” huffed Polly as she treaded back into the tiny living room, her slippers flipping at her red callused heels. “My little Muffy is my best friend, but he can get awfully riled with visitors sometimes. Just jealous, I think. A lot like some of the men I’ve known, but, oh, so much easier to live with.” She flopped down into the rose-colored recliner situated directly across from a small portable TV and sighed deeply. “I’ve got the soup all ready to heat up, and was just getting the sandwiches going, but I think I need to sit down here for a moment and catch my breath. I swear the years are catching up with me, Judith Anne, that and being on my feet all day.. .well, it’s no way for a woman my age to live.”
“How about if I finish up in the kitchen?” suggested Judith.
“Oh, would you do that for me, doll?”
Judith smiled. “Sure, no problem. Put your feet up and have a little rest.”
“Just holler if you need anything.”
Judith easily found her way around the compact kitchen, marveling again how she seemed to have stepped into a time warp as she discovered dishes and utensils that she felt sure were collectible. And yet somehow all this strange but familiar milieu brought a very real comfort with it—it reminded her of childhood. “Dinner’s about ready, Polly. Shall I set it up in here?”
“Nah, let’s just use TV trays and eat in here where it’s more comfortable.”
Judith brought their dishes in from the kitchen and then laughed. “This reminds me so much of when I was little, Polly. Mom and I always ate off TV trays in the living room. It got so that we only used the dining table for special occasions, and even that was rare.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without them. That’s one of the first things I look for in a man.”
“You mean that he’d be willing to eat from a TV tray?”
“Well, it’s a start, at least. Not that I’m really looking for a man these days. But I’m not completely opposed to the idea either. Can’t abide the thought of living out the rest of my days all alone.”
Judith dipped her spoon into the soup. “Just make sure he’s really the right one, Polly. Don’t waste your time on the losers.”
Polly laughed sarcastically. “Well, I don’t think I’ll need to worry about it one way or another. There’s not a whole lot to choose from in this town.”
“Speaking of eligible bachelors, I’ve become better acquainted with Hal Emery.”
Polly groaned. “Now, there’s a man that’d encourage any girl to remain single.”
“Oh, maybe he’s not so bad. I mean, he’s trying to be friendly.”
Polly blinked. “Not so bad? Just yesterday you thought he was lower than slug slime.”
Judith chuckled. “I didn’t say that. I just couldn’t understand why someone like Jasmine would marry him.”
“You and me both, honey. So, have you turned anything up?”
Judith told her about her visit with Aunt Lenore and the mysterious box.
“You just be careful though, Judith. Don’t you go digging yourself into something that’s over your head.”
“Over my head? What do you mean?”
“Like I already told you. There’s folks in this town a body’s got to be careful of. If you don’t say the wrong things or ask the wrong questions, you’ll be fine.” She set her empty bowl down. “And that’s all I want to say about that.”
“Well, I made an appointment with that detective you told me about. Although, he seemed pretty rude on the phone.”
Polly smiled. “I think that’s just because of what he does for a living. You know how those detective types on TV are always kind of bossy and abrupt. But just wait until you see him in person, you’ll forgive all his personality flaws in a heartbeat.”
Judith rolled her eyes. “I seriously doubt it. I just hope he can answer some questions. He seems to know something. Or at least he acts like it. But he made it sound as if we were going to do some sort of information exchange. I tell him something about Jasmine, and he’ll tell me something. Pretty strange, if you ask me.”
“Well, like I said, you just be careful. And don’t go around trusting everyone. Especially where the police are concerned.” Then she pretended to zip her lips. “Now, honestly, that’s all I’m going to say about that.”
Judith had considered asking her about Hal’s neighbor boy, but thought better of it. In the first place, Polly obviously didn’t want to get overly involved here, and secondly, if Judith were to have a follow-up conversation with the boy, perhaps she shouldn’t mention his name to anyone. Even as both these thoughts went through her head with lightning speed, she wondered at how she was so quickly falling into all this mysterious cloak-and-dagger stuff. With some effort, she managed to steer their conversation into safer channels, and after they finished eating she picked up their dirty dishes and went back into the kitchen.
“Thanks, honey.” called Polly as her chair creaked back into its reclining position again. “Just leave those things in the sink.”
The outdated kitchen had no conveniences such as dishwashers or garbage disposals, and so Judith quietly filled the sink with hot sudsy water. She hadn’t washed dishes by hand since she was a girl. And once again, something about the old-fashioned chore brought a comfort of sorts. By the time she was done, she could hear Polly peacefully snoring from her chair. Judith wrote a little thank-you note, then quietly let herself out the door, smiling as she went down the steps. Some people would consider Polly to be a horribly inept hostess, and yet it had been just the sort of evening Judith had needed.
She walked slowly through the quiet town. Almost nine and it was just getting dusky. She remembered how she and Jasmine used to love the
se long summer nights—more time to play and be together. She remembered the times when they would use Jasmine’s father’s camping gear and make camp in Jasmine’s backyard. This was one activity Mr. Morrison wholeheartedly supported. He was glad his daughter liked the outdoors. He taught her to build a campfire, to cook outside, and to take care of herself in the woods. He wanted her to hunt and fish with him, but this was where she drew the line. Judith, on the other hand, had no problem with these things. Well, she’d never actually hunted, but she had enjoyed the few fishing trips she’d taken with Jasmine and her father. Those were the earlier days of their friendship, the days when Mr. Morrison could do no wrong in her eyes. And Judith, unafraid to push a squirming worm onto a sharp hook, and hungry for a father figure, had relished Mr. Morrison’s open admiration at her skill. Yet Jasmine would complain and even act squeamish about such things—claiming it cruel to torture a worm in such a way. In fact, there were times in those early days when Judith would vie for Mr. Morrison’s attention by acting the brave tomboy he had always wanted Jasmine to be. And oddly enough, Jasmine never seemed to mind—or at least she never showed it. That was one of the rare and wonderful qualities of their friendship. It never seemed to be affected by jealousy of any kind.
The little town looked rather quaint and sweet in the dusky evening light. Harsh shapes were softened in the yellow light of the street lamps. Judith could see how a town like this could have real charm. And in this day and age, with so many people becoming disenchanted with city life, it was surprising that a town like this wasn’t filling up with families eager to flee the urban areas and live a quieter, simpler existence. It’s exactly what she would want to do if she still had a family. If.
It was fairly dark by the time she reached the motel. How long could she stand to stay in this awful place? At first, she’d been so distraught and depressed she hadn’t minded the squalor, but as she began to think and function more normally—at least more normally than she had for some time—it became more disgusting than ever. She would check out of her room the next morning. Maybe she’d take Aunt Lenore up on that offer. Or if she couldn’t find accommodations in Cedar Crest, she’d just look to the nearby towns. Yet even as she thought these things, she wondered why in the world she should continue staying here at all. But the town and the mystery surrounding Jasmine’s life and death seemed to have some sort of magnetic hold on her. She felt certain she wouldn’t be able to leave until some things were resolved. Perhaps that would all happen tomorrow when she met with the unfriendly detective.
It took longer than she anticipated to check out the following morning. No one was in the office, and she had to traipse all over the grounds until she finally found a woman to help her.
“Did you enjoy your stay?” asked the woman.
“Sure.” lied Judith. But what was she supposed to say— no, this place is a nasty fleabag, hole-in-the-wall motel that would best be torched? Instead, she paid her bill, thanked the woman, and left, promising herself to never stay in such a place again.
By the time she reached Aunt Lenore’s it was after nine. Not much time to visit and go through the mysterious box that Aunt Lenore had told her about. Judith knocked on the door, taking a moment to enjoy the pretty blooms around the porch. She waited for what seemed enough time for the old woman to make it to the front door, then knocked again, louder this time. Again, she waited. Finally, she walked around back, suspecting that Aunt Lenore might be outside, weeding her garden or hanging her wash or whatever else her unusually energetic old friend might be doing in the morning. But there was no sign of her back there either, and it didn’t appear that she’d watered or done anything yet today. Judith tried knocking on the back door. Still no answer. Now she was concerned. Aunt Lenore hadn’t felt all that well when she’d left her yesterday. What if something had happened? She knocked loudly on the door now, calling out her name.
“Excuse me,” called a voice from behind her.
Judith turned to see a woman of retirement age coming slowly up the walkway toward her. She used an ornately carved cane to help her walk.
“Are you looking for Miss Barker?” she asked, peering at Judith curiously.
“Yes, actually I am. I told her I’d come by today.”
“Well, I don’t know for certain, but I think she must’ve become ill or something yesterday, because last night there
was a car here, and I saw some people helping Miss Barker into the backseat. She didn’t look too well.”
“How odd. Did you recognize anyone?”
“Well, it was dark, and the car wasn’t familiar to me. But I noticed a man carrying a suitcase, probably Miss Barker’s. My guess is that she was taken to some sort of elderly care facility. You know, she was in her nineties. It’s amazing she’s lasted so long on her own all this time.”
Judith swallowed. “Yes, I suppose so. But she seemed so—so well yesterday. I mean, she said she’d been out working in her garden and hanging her wash—”
“You saw her yesterday?”
“Yes, we had a lovely visit. Of course, she was a little worn out when I left her. But I didn’t think it was anything serious.”
“You just never know with older people.”
“I suppose not. I wonder how I could find out where she is.”
The woman’s brow creased. “Are you family?”
“Not exactly.” Not wanting to alienate another possible source of information, Judith decided to conceal her hand this time. “But I’ve known Miss Barker since childhood. She’s been a dear friend to me, and I’ve always called her Aunt Lenore.”
The woman frowned. “Well, you might try checking with her family then. I don’t know them personally, but I suspect you do if you’ve been close friends with Miss Barker all these years.” Somehow, she seemed to turn slightly cool and skeptical.
“Yes, I’ll have to see what I can find out. Thanks for your help.”
“Well, Miss Barker’s been a good neighbor to me. I’ll be sad to lose her.”
“Hopefully, you’re not going to lose her.” Judith couldn’t bear to think of dear Aunt Lenore passing away just now— not after they’d only just begun to renew their friendship.
The woman shook her head. “Well, these old folks don’t last forever, you know.”
“I know. I just hope...”
The woman looked at her more carefully. “You really care about her.”
“Yes.” Judith sighed as she looked over the flower beds. “Maybe I should come by and see that her garden and flowers are watered while she’s away.”
The woman smiled. “That’d be good of you. I’d do it myself, but my arthritis is becoming somewhat burdensome to me.”
“That’s too bad.” Then Judith realized she didn’t even know the woman’s name. “I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Judith Blackwell. I grew up here in Cedar Crest, but I haven’t been back for over twenty years.”
The woman extended her hand. “I’m Martha Anderson. My husband moved us here back in the seventies. He was a teacher.”
“Mr. Anderson? The art teacher at the high school?”
“Yes, that was him. He passed away a couple years ago.”
“Oh, Mrs. Anderson, it’s such a pleasure to meet you. I only had him for a year, but Mr. Anderson was one of my all-time favorite teachers.”
She smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. Now please, just call me Martha.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that he passed away. He was a wonderful man! Why, he’s the first one to inspire me to take art seriously.”
“And so, do you?”
“Well, I used to. I haven’t done it in years.”
“That’s too bad. Warren used to always say that art was good for the soul. He never gave it up—painted right up until the day he died.”
“Well, I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a sketch pad and taking it up again. I think it might be good therapy for me.”
Martha reached over and squeezed her
hand. “Then do it, Judith.”
”I think I will.” Judith glanced at her watch. “I hate to go, but I have an appointment at ten. I’ll try to find out what’s happened with Aunt Lenore, and I’ll let you know if you like.”
“Yes, I’d appreciate that.”
The blow of Judith’s concern for Aunt Lenore’s health was somewhat softened by meeting Mr. Anderson’s wife. She felt an instant kinship with the woman, and hoped that when she came back to water and tend Aunt Lenore’s garden, she might spend more time chatting with her.
CHAPTER TEN
JUDITH WALKED INTO THE tiny cinder-block police department at ten o’clock sharp and inquired after Detective Ford. The man at the front desk raised his thick brows and eyed her with what seemed open suspicion. “This business or personal, ma’am?”
Trying not show her irritation at what seemed a rude insinuation, she forced a smile to her lips and crisply said, “Business, of course.”
“Have a seat over there, and I’ll buzz him.”
She went over to where several burnt orange vinyl chairs sat arranged in a straight line, but feeling somewhat affronted, she stubbornly decided not to sit down. Instead, she picked up a dated news magazine and absently flipped through it, all the while surveying the layout of this old building. She’d been here a couple of times before. Once when her bike had been stolen, and then the time she and Jasmine had found a lost dog. Despite her mother’s animal allergies, Judith had desperately wanted to keep that dog, a sweet collie mix with big soulful, golden eyes. But to her dismay, the owners showed up, and her mother had said it was just as well.
“Ms. Blackwell?”
She looked up to see a dark-haired man of medium height and build nodding her way. “Yes?” she answered.
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