I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. Charlie would be sitting on the bench in front of the library now. That’s where he is sitting when any crime in Parson's Cove takes place.
“Hi Charlie,” I called out as I neared the bench.
Charlie didn’t answer or move. Sometimes, it isn’t easy talking with Charlie because if you don’t get him in the exact right mood, he doesn’t say a thing. Also, if you happen to say the wrong thing or say too much, Charlie clams up. He’ll get up and walk away when you’re in the middle of a sentence. It takes a very patient person to converse with this man.
Some of the older folk (I mean in their eighties) know Charlie’s story. His parents were already up in years when they moved to Parson’s Cove with a small boy. They claimed that Charlie was their son but the rumor was that he was, in fact, their grandson. A child born out of wedlock to one of their daughters. Who knows? It was juicy gossip for many years anyway. It soon became apparent that Charlie was a bit different from other children. All the teachers felt sorry for him so instead of keeping him in the first grade for years, they simply kept moving him ahead. I was already in high school but would walk to school with him whenever I could. At least, on those days, no one teased him. Maybe that’s why he’s my friend today. When his parents died, Parson’s Cove’s Town Council moved him from one home to another. No one wanted poor Charlie. Finally, when he was old enough to be on his own, they settled him into a little house at the end of Main Street. There he lives to this day, minding his own business and not bothering anyone. There are folks who think his place looks dumpy but personally, I think it looks like a small summer cottage. Besides, he keeps it as neat as a pin.
I sat down beside him. He was staring into the western sky.
“Beautiful, isn’t it, Charlie?”
If he heard me, he didn’t let on.
“The sunset, I mean.”
Still no response.
When was the last time I’d sat like this and watched the sun go down? I couldn’t even remember. No one does it anymore, it seems.
“You know, Charlie, I should get Jake to build a deck or something in my backyard. I could sit outside and watch the sunsets or the stars. That would be a good idea, wouldn’t it?”
“What do you want me to tell you, Mabel?”
“Well, you could tell me it’s a good idea, I suppose. Would you want to come over and sit with me? I could make coffee and we could eat fresh muffins. How does that sound?”
His mouth moved slightly. That meant he was thinking about smiling. That’s usually as far as it goes. It was encouraging though.
“That would be nice but I know you didn’t come to tell me that. You want me to tell you something else.”
Charlie is sometimes more perceptive than other folks.
“You know me, Charlie. I’ll come straight out and ask you. Do you know what Esther was doing out in the woods when she found that body?”
He nodded.
My heart beat faster. “You know what she was doing out there?”
He nodded again.
“Can you tell me? I’d really like to know. Did you know that I knew the woman who was murdered? She was in Las Vegas with me. Maybe you could help me solve this crime. What do you think?”
Charlie sat for a long time and said nothing. I don’t know if he blinked. This is where endurance comes in. I’m sure that at least ten minutes passed. I was actually thinking of getting up and walking back home when he spoke up.
“Esther didn’t have anything to do with the murder, Mabel.”
“Oh, Charlie, I know that. I just have to know what she was doing out there. I’ll tell you a secret. She left a very nasty message on my answering machine and I’d like to find out why. That’s why I thought you could help.”
He turned his head and looked at me for the first time. “She left a nasty message?”
“Yes, she did, Charlie. She doesn’t like me very much.”
“Well, I like you, Mabel, so I’ll tell you what she was doing out there. Esther was meeting someone.”
“She was meeting someone? You mean she's being unfaithful to her new husband already? Who?”
Charlie turned back to the sunset and started to hum. This was the end of our conversation. Perhaps, he would tell me more tomorrow. Even this much probably wore him right out.
I patted him on the arm and thanked him. I found myself humming all the way home too.
Chapter Eleven
I couldn’t stop worrying about the murder case. Every time Reg, Jim, or Scully saw me, they almost crossed over to the other side of the street to avoid me. The least they could do was fill me in on some of the evidence they had collected.
I clicked my bedside lamp on and checked the clock. It wasn’t quite ten yet. My room was dark because I’d pulled the blind down. The days were starting to get long but there was no way I could sleep in a light room. I needed a drink of water, however, so I got up and went downstairs. While I was there, I thought I might as well kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes.
Reg picked up on the third ring.
“What do you want, Mabel?” he said, without as much as a ‘hello.’ (I always forget that he has ‘call display.’ As does Flori.)
“Well, and how are you, too, Mr. Smee?”
“Never mind the niceties; I know you’re after something.”
“Maybe I want to talk to Beth.”
“Do you?”
He had me there. “No, you know I want to talk to you, Reg. I have to know how the murder case is doing. You know Grace was my friend. I think you owe it to me to keep me informed.”
He paused for the briefest moment and then he sighed.
“I guess I owe you something, Mabel. Actually, there’s not much to tell. You know very well that when Maxymowich comes, I’m not exactly kept up to speed. All I know for sure is that they’re having a hard time trying to find any of her family. It's like she doesn't even exist. Other than that, you know as much as I do. Does that help you any?”
“Has anybody gone down to Yellow Rose, Texas, to check things out? That's where she's from, you know.”
“We know that, Mabel. All of Maxymowich's cops are here but he's probably in touch with law enforcement down there. At least, I would imagine. Maxymowich isn’t stupid. He’ll cover all the bases.”
Reg wasn’t much help but he did put a thought in my head. Why couldn’t I go down and do some snooping? No one would be concerned about an older woman hanging around and asking questions, would they? The biggest problem to that would be how could I do it without raising suspicions? Not there but here in Parson’s Cove.
Who knew the answer would drop right into my lap?
Flori entered the shop the next morning looking about as haggard and drained as I’d ever seen her. She usually bursts in like this tall, larger than life, sparkling sunbeam. Most days she radiates warmth, love, and joy. One look at her orange-red hair, her artificially arched auburn eyebrows, glossy pink lips and flamboyant orange and pink sundress and you can’t help but smile. There are not enough adjectives to describe her.
“My goodness, Flori, what’s wrong? Why do you look so forlorn? Where are the cinnamon buns? Please, don’t tell me that Jake ate all of them. If he did, I’ll never forgive him.”
Just the hint that in some other world, I would even consider for one moment forgiving Jake anything usually makes Flori burst into laughter. Not today.
Instead, she burst into tears.
“What’s the matter?” We met half way and I put my arms around her. Flori is the most wonderful person to hug because there’s so much of her and all of it is soft.
“It’s Jake,” she managed to sputter before letting out a loud wail.
I steered her to the chair. She sat looking up at me, a torrent of tears streaming down her face, mixed in with mascara that eventually joined her very runny nose. I grabbed a handful of tissues.
“Here,” I said. “Wipe your face and keep your mouth c
losed until you’re finished.”
She nodded and complied.
When she finished using up about ten tissues, I asked, “Now, what’s this about Jake? And don’t start crying again. That’s my last box of tissues.”
“Oh Mabel, I can’t believe he would do this to me.” With that, she did exactly as I’d told her not to do - she started wailing and blubbering again. I went into my back room and brought out an old hand towel; something I should’ve done in the first place.
“Here,” I said. “Let it all out. When you’re finished, we’ll throw this in the trash.” I did not intend to keep that towel. Or, ever use it again even if I washed it in straight bleach.
I grabbed her hand. “Are you trying to tell me that Jake is having an affair, Flori?”
That was the only thing I could think of that would make a woman carry on so. Suddenly, Charlie’s words came back to me. Esther Flynn was meeting someone in the woods at night. Surely, it couldn’t be Jake!
“Is Jake having an affair with Esther?” I gasped.
Flori stared at me as if I were out of my mind.
“What?” she whispered. “What are you talking about, Mabel?”
“Oh, never mind. What are you talking about? Why, on earth, are you crying like this? What has Jake done?”
“He’s going on a fishing trip with Mike Brown and Henry Brewster.” She sniffed. “For a whole week. They’ve made the plans already and he never even told me. He didn’t consult me. I always consult him no matter what I do.” She covered her face with the towel and blew her nose. I shut my eyes and cringed. “I can’t believe it,” she said when her face finally surfaced. “He’s never done this before. What’s happening to our marriage? Do you really think he’s going to meet another woman?” She looked at me, her eyes blank and confused. “Why did you say Esther? Do you know something I don’t, Mabel?” The blank confused look turned to panic.
“Flori, he’s not going to meet another woman. Forget I even mentioned Esther’s name. I’ll tell you about that later when you can handle it.” I got up and poured a cup of coffee. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better afterwards. By the way, when are they leaving for this fishing trip?”
She blew on her coffee and cautiously took a sip.
“They’re leaving next Monday.”
“That’s plenty of notice, Flori. He’s obviously giving you time to give your ‘okay’ and to adjust your schedule. You don’t want to smother Jake. He’s retired now so you can’t keep him home all the time, tied to your apron strings, you know.”
“Oh, Mabel, do you think I do that?” Her eyes once again filled with tears. I have no idea where this woman gets all her moisture. If I cried as much as she does, I’d be on intravenous.
I patted her hand. “You have a tendency to smother, my dear.”
She smiled through her tears. “Thanks. You are such a friend.” She hiccoughed. “Thank you for being so honest.”
I grinned. “So, do you know what we’re going to do while he’s on his vacation?”
“Do?”
“We’re going to go on our own vacation. You didn’t get to go to Vegas with me as you planned so we’ll go somewhere else. I’ll make sure you don’t think or worry about Jake Flanders for one second.”
The tears of sadness had been hardly mopped up when out poured the tears of gladness.
“Where will we go? To the city to shop? I would love to do that. We could stay at a fancy hotel for a few days. That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? Is that what you had planned?”
I shook my head. “Do you still have your money from the trip you never took?”
“Of course, I do. What are you saying? You want to go back to Las Vegas?”
“No, I’d like to go somewhere different this time. I have some money saved and I’ll get Delores to watch the shop and the cats. I know she’d like a break from the restaurant anyway.”
“Mabel, don’t keep me in suspense. Where will we go?”
“Let’s go to Yellow Rose, Texas.”
Flori screamed as the hot coffee splashed onto her lap. The coffee mug hit the floor, bursting into a few dozen pieces.
I’d say that was a good sign. She was obviously overcome with excitement.
Chapter Twelve
Flori sat on a bench at the William P. Hobby airport in Houston, Texas, surrounded by two suitcases, a purse, and a plastic bag containing three pairs of shoes. Personally, I had taken one small carry-on case. As usual, she was weeping. It didn’t bother her that people stopped and either just stared or walked over and asked if she was all right. It didn’t bother her that I was the one who was mortified. It was the last straw when a tall man with a cowboy hat and droopy mustache went over to her and said, “Is there anythang I can do for y'all, darlin’?” and she looked up at him with those big watery eyes and said, “No, there’s nothing anyone can do. I left my husband to go to Yellow Rose with Mabel. I don’t know what I was thinking. He should’ve stopped me but he didn’t.” She sniffed. “Now, we’re stuck here at this horrible airport and I don’t think we’ll ever get home again.”
I ignored the hateful look he threw at me. “Flori, we are not stuck here,” I said. “I told you that there’s a taxi waiting outside to drive us to Yellow Rose. Now, pick up your suitcases and let’s go.”
“Now, just one minute here,” the cowboy said. He turned to Flori. “You can make up your own mind; do you really want to go with this woman to Yellow Rose, or go back to your husband?”
Flori sniffed and wiped away a tear. “There’s a taxi waiting for us?”
“Yes. I told you I was going to get one.”
The cowboy put his hand on her arm and said in the gentlest voice, “Y'all sure you want to do this, honey? Remember, you have a faithful husband waitin’ back home.”
“Oh yes,” Flori said, with a most enchanting smile. “I have never been anywhere besides Parson’s Cove and Mabel says Yellow Rose sounds wonderful. Besides, she’s the one who is going to try to find Grace’s murderer.” She stood up. “I’m going to relax in the sun. Right, Mabel?”
The last I saw of the Texan was his back as he walked outside, shaking his head. I didn’t have the energy to explain anything.
After two hours of speeding along a country highway, barely slowing down as we whipped through dull forlorn looking little towns, we were in our hotel room, unpacking. Well, Flori was. All I had was clean underwear, a shirt, and another pair of jeans. It took all of three minutes to take care of that. Flori would put something away and then rush to the window for another look at the Gulf of Mexico, which slapped up against the abandoned beach, several feet away. There was no traffic on the street that ran in front of the hotel and stretched out along the coastline. Our hotel matched all the other stores and restaurants - old, weather-beaten, but somehow managing to look quaint and welcoming. This was a quiet place, too out of the way for most tourists.
“Isn’t this wonderful, Mabel? I’m so glad Jake thought this was a good idea. I can’t believe he really encouraged me to go, can you? And, with such short notice. Did you know, I didn’t even have time to tell the kids. Jake said he would. He’s so good to me sometimes.” She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes.
I didn’t want her to ever find out that I’d had a private talk with Jake and had succeeded in giving him a mighty huge guilty conscience. I mean, if he could traipse off with the boys for a week of drinking and carrying on at some secluded lodge, so could she. Not the drinking and carrying-on part, but definitely the traipsing off part. I really had no idea what men do at those places but Jake seemed to think I did so he agreed to let Flori go. On one condition, I told him, no one in Parson’s Cove must know where we were going, especially Reg or Sheriff Jim. I wouldn't worry about Scully. He'd think it was a hoot.
“What’ll I say to someone who asks? And, what about the kids?” he said. “They’re going to think something’s weird if I don’t even know where their mother is.”
“Tell them I st
ill had some free time left from my Las Vegas trip and we were using it up in Florida.”
I knew Jake had no problem lying.
Flori pulled out some brochures she’d picked up in the lobby and studied them.
“I’ve circled all the places we should tour, Mabel.” She looked over at me. I was on the other bed, studying a map of the city and surrounding area. “You are going to come with me, aren’t you?”
“Of course, I am. I have to look like a normal tourist. I’ll just have to keep my eyes and ears open. You can too. I showed you all the pictures of the people on that trip so if you see any of them, let me know.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t recognize any of them in person. Surely, the police are checking out where this Grace lived. Wouldn’t they have to contact her family to send the body back?” Flori shivered as she always does when she says the word ‘body.’
“I have no idea. Reg knows about as much as I do. Obviously, I’m not about to ask Captain Maxymowich.”
“So, where are you going to start?”
“I have started; I’m looking up Hobbs in the phone book.” I flipped through the phone book, which wasn’t much bigger than the Parson’s Cove and Surrounding Communities White and Yellow Pages.
“There’s only three. One must be Grace’s husband. Of course, they could all be related. We’ll sort of wander past each house tomorrow while we’re sightseeing.”
“What if there’s nothing to see on that street?”
“Flori, everything in Yellow Rose is something to see. Everything is old and historic. We could go to almost any house and ask to look inside.”
Her eyes widened. “They let you do that?”
“Of course, it’s an honor. Especially if it survived a hurricane.”
She looked doubtful.
“When was there a hurricane?”
I shrugged. “There are always hurricanes on this coast. Don’t worry about it. It's not hurricane season. Let’s go to eat and then we’ll start out tomorrow. We can walk along the beach to a restaurant and back.”
Mabel, Murder, & Muffins Page 7