by Linda Hanna
He offered a non-committal shrug. “I’m really trying, but a murder? Here? In our quiet community?”
A lump formed in her throat. Her own husband didn’t believe her.
“Ma’am?” The policeman lightly touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry to push you so hard, however, knowing exact details can make all the difference in a case. Is there anything else?” He looked at her. “Anything at all?”
Cora lowered her eyes and gave an anxious little cough. A tense silence filled the room. Her nervous hesitation was only for a moment. Did Davis notice?
“What more could you possibly need?” Cora carefully ticked the facts off on her fingers. “A man watches me, knows when I’m alone, and even what I wear. He threatened Ed. Patrick warned me about a prowler. Two men were outside my window. One had a knife. The other fell.” She drew a deep breath. “Isn’t that enough?” A rush of unexpected tears surfaced. She took Ed’s handkerchief and wiped her eyes.
The officer thanked Cora for her time. “If you think of anything else, be sure to call right away.” He motioned for Ed to follow him outdoors. “Let’s check on Reed’s investigation.”
Coffee sloshed onto the counter as Cora nervously poured another cup. She stood at the sink and wondered where Lupe went.
The three men’s voices reached Cora through the open kitchen window. She leaned closer.
Davis spoke. “I’m not surprised Reed didn’t find evidence. If there had been tracks, they would’ve been destroyed, thanks to last night’s rain. So that’s about it, unless you have something else to tell us, Mr. Timms.”
Ed cleared his throat. “About that flat tire I had.”
Aha! She knew he was hiding something. By now, Cora’s nose was all but pressed to the screen.
“What’s so unusual about that?” Reed asked.
Davis replied, “You gave me the impression you thought it was a nail.”
“Actually, the tire was slashed.”
“Any reason you didn’t mention this earlier?” the older officer asked.
“Wasn’t trying to hide it. I wanted to wait until we were alone to fill you in, so it wouldn’t worry my wife any more than necessary,” Ed commented. “It’s a good thing, too, since she’s sure a man with a knife was out here. Then, with that wicked slice comment he made.”
“Let’s go check it out,” Reed suggested. The men followed Ed into the garage.
Cora nearly choked on her coffee when she heard Ed’s account. “The tire was slashed?” she whispered. Her hands went to her mouth as she recalled the hooded figure holding the knife. What else had Ed kept from her? Was it really to spare her needless worry? She left her cup on the counter, and hurried to the side door so she wouldn’t miss a word.
She eased the door open just wide enough to get the lowdown, and watched as the three men studied the tire in Ed’s trunk.
“It’s been cut all right,” Officer Reed said. “You say this happened at Sugar Dips?”
Ed nodded. “George Shipley and Roger Clark were talking. I was curious since I fired George a few weeks ago and Roger took his place. George rushed out when I went to their table. I hate to think that my damaged relationship with him was the catalyst for this vandalism.”
Davis looked up from the ruined tire. “We’ll check Shipley out. There’s not a whole lot we can do, except maybe add another patrol car in the neighborhood. Since this is a gated community with a security guard, that hardly seems necessary.”
“Wendell McGibbons for protection?” Ed rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s it?”
“Is there a problem, sir?”
Cora didn’t want to miss anything, so she opened the door a hair wider.
“Not really.” Ed replied. “Wendell’s a nice person and all, but considering his age, I think he was hired mostly for window dressing and not so much for security. Aren’t you going to talk to the neighbors?”
Officer Reed answered. “I’ve already done that. Nobody noticed anything unusual happening last night. Probably because of the storm.”
“What about Patrick Hyde, across the street? He saw something.”
“I tried his house, but no one came to the door.”
“Come to think of it, Wendell told me Pat was going to visit his lady friend sometime this week. He sure picked a great time to up and leave.”
“Truth is,” Davis said, “our hands are tied until the perpetrator gives us more to go on. We need substantial evidence.” He pushed the front of his hat up with the end of his pen. “We have no actual suspects, no body, no knife, no blood. Sorry.”
“Me, too.” Ed’s brow furrowed. “In the meantime, if my wife is right, we could be in danger, couldn’t we?”
Reed piped up. “That’s possible, sir. In all likelihood it’s fear run amuck.”
“I’ve tried not to dwell on my own nagging suspicions, and you’ve just filled me with more doubt.” Ed slammed the trunk lid.
“Give us time to check it out from all angles.” Davis closed his notebook. “We’ll get back with you, later.”
Ed frowned and rubbed his chin. “Let me give you a little background information. Cora’s been withdrawn since our daughter died. She resigned as county treasurer. Then our former son-in-law quickly remarried and moved our grandkids to Vegas. She never complained about being alone, until the phone calls began. Now, she’s downright paranoid.”
Davis pulled his notebook out again and licked his forefinger. He flipped a few pages to read a previous entry and then looked up. “You know, Mr. Timms, your wife was so fearful of a prowler, her paranoia gave way to hysteria.”
Ed released a deep sigh. “I’m worried about her, Officer Davis.” He shook his head. “She’s never behaved or talked so erratically.”
This was ridiculous. It was all she could do to stay quiet behind the door. Why didn’t Ed defend her?
Reed spoke up. “Is she in danger of hurting herself?”
“What? We’re not on a suicide watch, if that’s what you mean.”
A surge of exasperation filled Cora. She clenched her fist. The once solid ground of her life was now quicksand, and she felt herself sink deeper into despair. Did Ed know what she’d been hiding from him? Was he trying to get rid of her, or drive her to the loony bin? The cops weren’t any help, either. She was the victim. They made it sound like she was a raving lunatic who needed to have her belts and shoelaces taken away.
Davis nodded to his partner. “I think we’ll have another look on the patio before we leave.” He shook Ed’s hand. “Thanks for your time, sir.”
Cora closed the door quietly and scurried back to the kitchen. She grabbed a dishtowel and innocently turned when Ed called her name.
“Hey, Toots. The officers are done with the questioning. That wasn’t so bad, was it? They’re going to check the patio for a few minutes, so don’t let them spook you.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be at Wheels and Deals to get a new tire. Look for me in a couple hours.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. See ya later.” Cora waited until Ed left and then rushed to the kitchen window. No way would she miss what the cops had to say.
She heard Officer Reed complain to his partner. “If she didn’t want us to help, then why did they bother to call us in the first place?”
“To be completely honest,” Davis added, “I have a gut feeling she’s hiding something. She had all the classic signs, like hedging questions, little eye contact, and repeating things.”
Cora leaned in closer to hear Reed’s reply.
“I noticed that, too. She kept clenching her teeth and fidgeting.”
“She got really upset about putting a tracer on the phone. Talk about melodramatic.”
“And what about this Hyde character? Why would he suddenly decide to go on a trip in the middle of a monsoon with a prowler on the premises? Doesn’t add up, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t. Hey, Reed, I just had a thought. What if Hyde didn’t call? After all, we only have her word for that. He could
’ve been out of town the whole time. Suppose she did all this for attention?”
The smug young Reed laughed. “Oh yeah, the ol’ phantom stalker ploy. Come on, let’s get back to work.”
Phantom stalker? Cora fumed at their condescending remarks, and watched the officers leave. The phone rang. She gritted her teeth and turned to answered it. “Hello?”
It was a moment before the thick accent was heard. “You make big mistake, Señora! You had warning. You talk to policía and now you will wish you were not born.”
Cora heard a click. Then silence.
6
Events of the morning left Cora discouraged and miffed at the cops’ assumption of her mental decline. If Ed knew about the last phone call, he’d have a phone tap installed immediately. No way. Better to ignore the whole thing.
Since Ed returned from Wheels and Deals, he tagged after her like a hound on the hunt. Cora bumped into him twice in the kitchen. Agitated by his suffocating attention, she shut the cabinet door a little too hard.
“Ed, you know I love you,” she frowned to add emphasis to her words, “but don’t you have people to influence at the golf course?”
“Roger’s covering for me this morning.” He opened his arms to her. “I’m all yours, Tootsie.”
She forced a smile. “Can’t you find something to do while I make lunch?”
“Oh, well, I’ll help get things out.” He opened the refrigerator door. “Do we need anything in here? Hey! This Half and Half’s turned to cottage cheese. Better add that to your list.” He put the carton back and bent down to look deeper inside the fridge. “While you’re at it, write down catsup and, umm, pickle loaf.”
Cora shuddered. “Oh Ed, honestly. Wouldn’t you rather have shaved ham instead?”
“I haven’t had a good ol’ pickle loaf and sardine on pumpernickel since before we were married. Yeah, add sardines and pumpernickel to the list, too.”
The man had an iron gut. Pickle loaf and sardine sandwich, indeed. Cora marched across the kitchen and closed the refrigerator door. With hands on her hips, she stared him down. “Ed, if you really want to help, please go read the paper until I call you.”
“You sure?”
Without a word, she pointed to the other room.
“You’re a hard woman, Cora. A ha-a-a-ard woman.” He turned to leave. “I’ve half a mind to go to the golf course after lunch.”
“Then we have a meeting of the minds.”
At her insistence, Ed left to check on Roger at the golf course after lunch. The peace and quiet Cora expected did not materialize. Instead she rehashed the policemen’s embarrassing visit. Her story of a stalker hadn’t convinced anyone. Their flip allegations of her fading mental competence might be true, but they were hurtful and degrading.
She wasn’t delusional. The blackmailer’s threats remained vivid in her mind. If she couldn’t produce the envelope, or keep the police out of the picture…would the callers live up to their warning? With Ed gone, the walls of the house closed in on her. She had to get out. Away from the sinister calls, the prying eyes, and her vulnerability.
Cora put McGibbons’ old coffee carafe on the top shelf of the dishwasher, and thought about the need for a replacement. Dahlia had urged her to get a BrewMeister Mach 1 Coffeemaker. BrewMeister sponsored her TV show. The southern cook promised it would give her one to twelve cups of perfect coffee in ninety seconds. Now would be the time to get one. She’d better remember to put it on the grocery list along with the pickle loaf.
Cora set her purse down and fished around inside. Car keys? Check. Cell phone? Check. She laid her keys and phone beside the purse, pulled out the grocery list, and quickly added pickle loaf and BrewMeister. Where was her debit card? She made a beeline to the bedroom dresser. What she wouldn’t do for a soothing cup of vanilla coffee about now.
She snatched her purse and headed for the door as the house phone rang. Startled, she took two steps towards it, and then stopped. If it was Ed, he could wait, but what if it was the kook? As Cora punched in the code for the security system, the phone went quiet, and she made a mad dash for the Lincoln.
The car door slammed shut. Cora realized something was missing. Where were her keys? She grumbled, dug in her purse again, and pulled out a spare house key. Ed would never let her hear the end of it if she lost them again. Cora groaned, climbed out of the car, punched in the code, and marched back in the house. “Better leave a note for Ed while I’m at it.” Her pen scratched across the notepad. “Going for pickle loaf.”
The phone rang once more. “I’m not going to answer, Bub.” She stomped back to the car in a huff. Was there a way to mainline vanilla bean cappuccino? It was definitely something to look into.
By the time she arrived at the store, her last cup of breakfast coffee caused her to squirm. A restroom search was top on her “to-do” list. Hopefully, Dalton’s was clean.
The entrance to the store was blocked by a giddy troop of Wilderness Scouts busy with their annual cookie sale. She rushed past the Scouts and their display.
Desperate, Cora bulldozed her way through the crowd and into the five-stall bathroom, only to find a young mother and her toddler already waiting in line.
“Mrs. Timms! Wait up.” A young girl opened the door and called. “You forgot your cookies the other day.”
Cora recognized the freckle-faced scout from church. “Oh, hi, Brandi. Cookies? I don’t remember buying cookies.” She tried to conceal her frustration of yet another occurrence of forgetfulness. “Are you sure these are mine, sweetie?” Two stalls became available and Cora rushed into one.
Brandi held onto the door. “Well, sure I’m sure, Mrs. Timms.” Her rusty curls bounced as she nodded her head. “Don’t you remember last week at the mall?”
“Excuse me, Brandi. I really need to go.” Cora quickly locked the door while the scout continued to chatter.
“Oh, sure, Mrs. Timms, go ahead. Remember, you weren’t feeling well when you paid me. Then you walked off and left the cookies on the table. I called you. I guess you couldn’t hear me, ‘cause you didn’t even turn around. Here.” The girl shoved the shopping bag with the cookies under the stall door.
Cora sighed and rolled her eyes. “Just a minute, honey. You hold them for me until I wash my hands. I’ll be right out.”
She left the bathroom and thanked Brandi for the cookies. As the pig-tailed scout smiled, Cora caught a fleeting gleam of braces before she peeked into her bag.
“You got two boxes of Mint Pit-a-Patties,” the girl said with pride. “And one box of Coconut Whippersnappers.”
Puzzled, Cora glanced at Brandi. “Why did I buy Whippersnappers? Ed and I don’t like coconut.” She laughed and gave the young scout a hug. “Well, I must’ve had my reasons.”
“You said something about getting them for your son.”
“I did?” Cora’s smile faded “Well, then, how much do I owe you?”
The girl giggled. “You already paid for them, remember?”
Embarrassed, Cora laughed. “Thank you, Brandi. I’m glad you remembered. I sure didn’t.” An icy grip curled around her heart. Her son? What other little tidbit had she mindlessly blurted out? And to whom?
“No problem.” Brandi’s voice brought Cora out of her thoughts. “I was going to give them to you, or Mr. Timms at church.” She gave Cora a bear hug, waved good-bye and scurried back to her chatty friends at the cookie display.
The warm squeeze triggered a rush of memories. Cora choked back a sudden flood of tears as she recalled her daughter’s last embrace. Would the pain ever cease? She didn’t think so.
Another troubling thought assailed her. Why couldn’t she remember something as simple as buying cookies? These forgetful episodes were more frequent. She pressed her index fingers to her head and massaged her throbbing temple.
Sarah Carpenter, from church, said she’d been ignored at the Christian bookstore. Yesterday, her neighbors, Dixie Firestone and Sylvia Drake, both griped about being sn
ubbed at Java Joe’s Coffee Shoppe.
Stomach still in knots, Cora rooted through her purse for the grocery list. Where was it? Probably with her cell phone back home on the kitchen counter. Maybe Officer Davis was right and she was wandering on the wrong side of sanity. She wove her way between other shoppers to the snack bar, and parked her cart next to another.
Sizzling hot dogs on the rotisserie caught her attention. For some reason, Cora felt she had a lot in common with those shriveled franks. Perhaps it was because she, too, felt old, crinkled and dried up. Yep, that was it.
A small voice called out from behind the counter. “Would you like a Dalton Dog?”
Cora searched the length of the snack bar. Her eyes lit on a short gal with a hair net-covered ponytail, all but hidden behind the counter. “I’ll pass. Just a bottle of water, please.”
With drink in hand, Cora slunk down in a nearby booth, and tried to recreate her shopping list. What was on it? Oh, yes, BrewMeister, Half and Half. Ed will want a piping hot cup of coffee with Brandi’s scout cookies. Thank goodness, the girl hadn’t spoken to Ed. How could she explain buying coconut cookies for a son they never had?
A white-haired couple sat in the next booth. The husband cut a hot dog into small pieces and fed his frail wife. The poor woman was slumped in her seat, while he dutifully wiped mustard from her mouth. Cora turned her head as tears blurred her vision. Would Ed do that for her?
The thought was pushed aside as she added Pumpernickel and Ed’s pickle loaf to her list. Her stomach knotted in revolt. Time to think of something pleasant.
The Scout bag fell against her arm. Oh yeah, the Mint Pit-a-Patties. Maybe when she got home, Dahlia would help her attack the scout cookies. Then again, a quiet afternoon was what she needed most, and quiet wasn’t in Dahlia’s vocabulary. Cora sighed. Nope. Better to relax with a pot of coffee, and scarf a box of mint cookies on her own.
First things first. Finish the shopping, relax later. Cora smiled at the older couple and went to get her cart. Ahead of her, a young man with red hair set up a gherkin display. Oh…she almost forgot. Pickle loaf and sardines. Well, pickle loaf, maybe. She shuddered. Sardines? Never!