Mabel, Murder, & Muffins

by Sharon Mierke

  I slipped under the tape. There really wasn’t much to see. The tall wild grass and low brush were flattened somewhat. I had no idea who flattened it though - the murderer or the cops. About ten feet in front of me, beside an old oak tree, I could see stakes stuck in the ground so that must have been where Esther discovered the body.

  Why would Esther Flynn return to Parson's Cove and be wandering around in this bush? I always thought she was a bit weird but to be out here at night? That’s just plain creepy. More importantly, did she do anything to mess up the investigation? Knowing Mrs. Know-It-All, she probably touched the body, left her fingerprints over everything, and trampled all around it before having the sense to call 911. I wouldn’t even put it past her to hysterically start performing CPR.

  I stepped warily over the bent grass until I came to the stakes. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. There was no blood that I could see, only a larger area of flattened vegetation. I didn’t even have to close my eyes and I could envision Grace lying there, all curled up in a fetal position. Whether she was or not, I don’t know, but that’s how I envisioned her. I shivered. The inside of my mouth suddenly felt dry and tasted terrible.

  Beyond this point, the trees and brush became denser and on the other side of the bluff, perhaps about a quarter of a mile away, there was a lake. Everyone called it Parson’s Cove Lake but I don’t think it had an official name. There were various paths going through the woods. Everybody who wanted to take a shortcut to the lake created their own. About three or four feet to the right of the police tape, I could see the faint outline of a path. That area wasn’t roped off. Obviously, the police took it for granted that whoever dumped the body entered the woods from behind the nursing home. I mean, who would carry a dead weight all the way up from the lake and then leave it so someone could find it so easily?

  I heard voices in the distance and looked up. There were three cops standing on the street by their patrol car having a chat. I slipped under the tape, dashed down the path towards the lake, and kept running until I felt no one could see me or hear my puffing. It was probably best that I didn’t return the way I came so I kept walking towards the lake. I’d simply take another route back and make sure I didn’t come out where the cops were.

  Now that I wasn’t running, I had a chance to check the footpath. It wasn’t one of the well-worn paths but someone had used it not all that long ago. Not that I’m a tracker, but it was quite obvious the grass hadn’t been packed down a long time ago. Every few yards, there was the faint outline of footprints. As I neared the edge of the tree line, the ground became softer, probably still moist from our last rain. Now, the prints were clear. I bent down to examine them. As far as I could tell, there was only one set and they were going only in one direction - towards the nursing home. It wasn’t a small print either. Offhand, I would say about a size ten. Most of the grass stood tall so no one had dragged a body through this area. I was sure if the murderer had carried the body, the footprints would’ve been much deeper.

  There is a narrow beach on this side of the lake. It’s made up of small pebbles so few people come to swim here. It seems this is where all the algae end up too and no one likes swimming in that. If you want to sit on the shore and listen to the water lapping or read a book in solitude, this is the spot to choose.

  I spent some time on my haunches examining the shoreline. The footprints from the path disappeared. There were no discernible prints in the gravel, only little dips here and there.

  It was disappointing. A theory isn’t worth anything without proof. I stood up to leave when my eye caught something shiny almost buried under the coarse sand. An earring. I held it in my hand. A simple gold earring. Was Grace missing one? If that were true, I’d solved some of the mystery. At least, in which direction the murderer came. Had she been murdered on a boat? If so, why carry the body so far? Why not leave it somewhere well hidden in the middle of the bush? Unless, of course, the murderer hadn’t planned on leaving it in the woods at all and suddenly someone, like Esther, showed up so he had to dump it and run.

  I looked at my watch. I had five minutes to race through the woods and be at the store before Flori phoned. If I wasn’t there, she would send Jake to my house and when he didn’t find me home, Flori would be at the police station screaming at Jim that I’d been kidnapped or shot.

  I caught the phone on the fourth ring.

  “Why are you huffing like that, Mabel?” she asked.

  Now I know how wise my father was to keep the back door unlocked at all times.

  “Huffing?”

  “You sound like you’re having a heart attack. Are you all right?”

  “Of course, I am. I thought this morning I’d jog to work, that’s all.”

  “Are you telling me a story? You would never jog to work. Did you run because you were afraid someone might be after you? Be honest with me.”

  “To be honest, one of my cats ran away and I had to go looking for her.”

  “You never go looking for your cats.”

  “I know but now I can assure Hilda that I did my best.”

  “Where exactly did you look, Mabel?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know you. If Hilda sent you out looking, you’d run across town, then sneak back to the shop, and have your coffee. That’s what you always do.”

  I took the earring out of my pocket. Heck, I couldn’t fool Flori anyway.

  “I went searching in the woods, Flori, and guess what I found?”

  “What woods? Not the woods where Esther found the body? Tell me you didn’t do that. Oh, don’t even bother. I know you went there.” She sighed. “What did you find, Mabel? Please, don’t tell me you found the murder weapon.”

  The murder weapon. It could be in the woods somewhere. The murderer could have tossed it somewhere into the bush. The cops might not have searched far enough.

  “Next time, I’m going to take you with me, Flori. We could’ve searched together. I never thought of looking for the murder weapon.”

  “There won’t be a next time. I forbid you to go into that wood again. Do you want to get into trouble? So, if you didn’t find that, what did you find? Her shoe?”

  “Her shoe? Was she missing a shoe?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, I don’t know. What did you find?”

  “An earring. A gold earring. It was on the shore by the lake.”

  “I thought the body was found behind the nursing home. Why were you out by the lake?”

  “Oh, never mind, Flori. Do you want to come and have a look at it before I give it to the police?”

  “I’m really not interested in some old earring, Mabel, but I will come over for coffee. I haven’t had any yet this morning.”

  The coffee hadn’t finished perking and Flori was in the door, looking quite summery in a pink and purple Hawaiian flowered sundress. It definitely made her reddish-orange hair and matching eyebrows look even brighter than usual.

  I held the earring up for her to see.

  “I’m going to check with Jim to see if Grace was missing an earring. If she was, Flori, it means she was probably murdered on a boat and then carried through the woods.”

  Flori took the earring out of my hand and looked at it.

  She handed it back. “Don’t bother,” she said. “I’d recognize that earring anywhere. It belongs to Esther Flynn.”

  Chapter Nine

  All morning, I waited, hoping and almost praying that Esther Flynn would return to Parson's Cove and come into the store. Not that I had much hope of that really happening. She married some poor sucker in another small town and she and her horrid daughter, Millicent, moved away. I actually thought it would make me happy but in some ways I miss having someone to take my anger out on. And, trust me, it was easy for me to get angry with her.

  Of course, if she did happen to come in, I wouldn't accuse her of murder. Oh no, I knew she wasn’t capable of that. She got her kicks out of watching people suffer and squirm. I should
know. So would her estranged husband, Chester, and perhaps her latest husband too. Chester left her and their daughter, Millicent, years ago. It’s true, he ended up being a scoundrel himself but if he’d stayed with Esther, who knows what would’ve become of him? He could easily have decided, simply out of desperation, to plunge into the lake with a couple of cement blocks tied to his ankles.

  It was almost three when I caught a glimpse of Reg with Captain Maxymowich driving down the street. I opened the door and waved but they were at the end of the block by then. Reg would have pretended not to see me anyway.

  At ten minutes to five, when I was pouring out the leftover coffee and getting rid of the grounds, Esther walked in.

  Let me describe Esther to you in the most glowing description I can muster. She’s tall, skinny, has short dark hair that is usually tightly permed in an old lady’s style and wears glasses that keep sliding down her long narrow nose. When she speaks, which is quite often, she has a high-pitched nasal voice. Flori says that’s not her fault because she should have had her adenoids removed years ago. Personally, I think she does it to get attention and to irritate everyone. I realize this could describe a very nice person but with Esther, that’s where the nicest part ends. Personality-wise, she’s humorless, snotty, bigoted, abrasive, pig-headed and a nitpicker. One day I was reading a book and came across the word misanthropist. I looked it up in the dictionary and she is that, also.

  “I've made the trip from another town and I believe I have fifteen more minutes in which to shop,” she announced as soon as she opened the door. She stood, daring me, with her nose in the air.

  “No,” I said. “You only travelled ten minutes to get here and you have ten minutes in which to shop.”

  She upped her nose another inch as her glasses started to slide.

  “You would think, Mabel Wickles, since your business doesn’t seem to be all that lucrative, you would be pleased if your clientele came in even if it were last minute. Or, do you think you’re above us since you won that ridiculous trip?” She wore the tiniest smirk. "Oh yes, I heard all about your trip to Las Vegas."

  “First of all, Esther Flynn, you are not what I call clientele. When was the last time you even bought anything? All you do is come in to see what I have marked down and then try to get it cheaper. What do you want now anyway?”

  “Humph. If that’s your attitude…” She turned to open the door.

  “No, no, it’s not. You’re right,” I said. She gave me a surprised look. “No, I mean it, Esther. You take your time and look around.” I tried very hard to smile. “The trip and then finding out that one of my friends was murdered has made me a bit irritable. I’m sure it would make you that way too.”

  “One of your friends? You knew the woman who was murdered?” Her eyes widened as her chin fell and her glasses slid. “I didn't know her. How did you know her?”

  “We don’t have to know each other’s friends. I’m sure you have lots of friends that I don’t know. And don't forget you left Parson's Cove a few years ago now.”

  "Yes, I suppose that's true. Besides, my husband and I have many friends. I've learned that Parson's Cove is really not a very friendly place in comparison to other towns.” She turned and wandered down an aisle with a confused look on her face. I knew it was bugging her that I knew the murder victim. I also knew she didn't have any friends. She could move to Timbuktu and still wouldn't have a friend.

  I waited by the register. She stopped every few feet to pick something up and then put it back.

  “Find anything yet, Esther?” I called out. I knew what she really wanted was to find out how I knew the murder victim but she would be too proud to ask.

  “Don’t rush me. You know they say that the customer is always right.”

  “Depends on the customer,” I said under my breath.

  “I heard that.”

  After ten minutes, she walked to the door. “Sorry, Mabel, I guess I made the trip for nothing; you don’t have anything I’m interested in. Almost everything you have was made in some foreign country with cheap labor. I thought perhaps you’d finally acquired some new merchandise - something perhaps from Paris or Rome? But, no, there’s nothing extraordinary at all. Just the same old, same old.”

  “Oh, but I do have something extraordinary. Well, it’s not new. Used, but in very good condition and it’s gold.”

  “Gold? You have something in gold?” Esther’s eyes always light up when someone says the word gold.

  I reached in my pocket and pulled out the earring.

  She gasped. “Where did you get that? That's my earring.”

  Her hand shot out like a serpent’s tongue but my hand was faster.

  “I know it’s yours, Esther, and you know what? When you tell me what you were doing out by the lake and in the woods, you’ll get it back.”

  “What? Are you crazy? That’s none of your business. I will never tell you what I was doing out there.”

  “That’s okay. I will never give you back your earring.”

  She crossed her arms against her chest and put her nose in the air. “Humph. I will go to Sheriff Jim and we’ll see about this, Mabel. He’ll make you give that earring back.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Esther. This is a murder case. It’s one thing to simply drop an earring on the ground but I found this out by the lake. Right beside the path leading to the body. What would you be doing out there at night? Does your husband know you were out there? Or is he implicated in this murder too? And then, of course, there’s the threatening phone call. How does that fit in with the murder, Esther?” I placed my arms across my chest and lifted my chin in the air, too.

  I watched as Esther’s face changed from white to scarlet.

  “Phone call? What phone call?”

  “You know very well. You can try and disguise your voice all you like but I know it was you.”

  “Well, I’ll have you know, it was not me. If you were the last person on earth, I wouldn’t phone you, Mabel Wickles.”

  She had a point there.

  “You would if you were involved in a murder; so, what were you doing in the woods? You’d better tell me if you want your gold earring back.”

  “Never. And don't you implicate my husband. You say anything about him or to him, and I'll get you, Mabel Wickles.”

  “Aw, so you are threatening me now? Okay. I’ll see what Reg thinks about all of this then.”

  Esther flew out the door, leaving me alone with a gold earring in my hand.

  Chapter Ten

  “She could be telling the truth, Mabel.”

  Flori sat in Father’s chair, sipping her wine. There were three cats in the living room, all vying for Flori’s attention. The others were outside, probably searching for a platonic relationship with any cat other than a family member. My cats are extremely naive so as a result, have returned home many times, beaten up by a bewildered tomcat. I guess in the animal world it’s hard to accept the fact that a few are neither ‘he’s’ nor ‘she’s’ but only ‘its.’

  “No, I’m pretty sure she was lying. I could tell by the way she blushed.” I picked up the bottle and topped off our glasses. “I would give anything to know why she was in the woods at night. What do you think?”

  Flori rolled her eyes. “Like I know what Esther does with her time. Maybe she was out berry picking.”

  “At night? And leaving her husband? I’d say more like baying at the moon. No, she was up to something. I wish I knew; it’s driving me crazy.”

  “Did you ask her?”

  “Of course, I asked her.”

  “And?”

  “She said that she would never tell me so I threatened to take the earring over to Reg.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “I doubt it. It really doesn’t have anything to do with the murder. I like to have some leverage with her, that’s all.”

  “You just like to torture her, you mean.”

  “That, too.”

  We dran
k our wine in silence for a few minutes, which is very rare with Flori, but it was pleasant.

  “So, you really think she’s the one who made the phone call, Mabel?”

  “I wish I knew for sure. It did rather catch her off guard. But the blush, Flori. Usually that’s the giveaway with Esther.”

  Flori looked at her watch. “I’d better skedaddle home. Jake will be back soon.”

  She tipped her glass up and drained it. A few drops dribbled down her chin which she carefully caught with her finger and drove back into her mouth.

  “I swear, Flori, you’d make a better beer guzzler than a wine connoisseur. It wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t let out a loud belch about now.”

  She stood up and leaned over to place the glass on the coffee table. “Oh, for goodness sake, you know I’d never do that.” She straightened up. “If you want me to bring over fresh cinnamon buns to the shop tomorrow, you’d better treat me really good.”

  “Enough said. You can down your wine any old way you please, my dear.”

  We hugged and Flori left for home. It was still early and I definitely wasn’t going to spend a beautiful warm spring evening sitting at home watching television.

  Phil (whose real name is Phyllis and is the mother to the rest of the brood) jumped up on my lap and started purring. I scratched behind her ears and under her chin until my hand was wet with drool.

  “You’re as bad as Flori,” I said, and gently pushed her away. “But, you are one smart cat, Phil. So, who do you think might know what Esther was doing in the woods?” She gazed up at me with such devotion that I had to start scratching her again. After all, what’s a little drool between friends anyway?

  Sometimes I’m amazed how my brain works. Out of nowhere, a thought formed. There was one person in Parson’s Cove who knows what everyone is doing. There is someone who walks the streets at night, always somewhere in the darkness but never seen. Charlie Thompson. To top it all off, he was my friend.