Mabel, Murder, & Muffins

by Sharon Mierke

  “Oh Mabel, be quiet and listen. What did you learn?” Flori leaned over until her face was about five inches from Stella’s face.

  “That Veronica’s daughter don’ live with her no more because she disappeared several weeks ago. The police did a decent search for the first week or so but now it’s kind of on the back burner. She didn’t get along all that good with her momma so they think she mighta just took off.” She twisted around to face me. “What do you think, Mabel? Isn’t this a strange coincidence?”

  “I’m with you. I think there’s somethin’ comin’ down here.”

  “So, what’s our next move?”

  Flori said, “Let’s eat.”

  I knew enough not to come between Flori and her food and Stella and her food, so I went along with it.

  Stella pulled up in front of a small Cajun Greek restaurant. It wasn’t quite noon yet but it looked packed inside. One thing I had to say was the people of Yellow Rose sure did know how to eat. They swarmed to restaurants at breakfast and noon like seagulls diving for a breadcrumb.

  After stuffing ourselves with blackened chicken ‘po’ boys,’ we decided to check out the last two addresses we had on our list. As it turned out, one house was vacant with a No Trespassing sign stapled across the falling-down door, and a miserable old man with his humongous dog sat on the steps of the other one. I got as far as the gate, saw the man guzzling beer, saw the pit bull watching me, and I was back in the car before the dog hit the fence, running full speed.

  “Okay,” I said. “Forget about finding Andrea. She can read about Grace’s murder in the newspaper like everyone else. So, Stella, I was thinking, what if you and I check out the drug dealers’ places tonight? And, Flori, you could do surveillance from the house. How does that sound? That way, if Cecile comes to the house, you can phone Stella on her cell phone. What do you think?”

  The two women looked at each other and sort of shrugged.

  “I s’pose so,” Stella said, without too much enthusiasm. “You just make sure you keep the lights out, Flori, and he don’t see you.” She turned to me. “What did you want to do now, Mabel?”

  “After all that food, I want to go back to the hotel and have a nap.”

  They both looked as if that was the best suggestion they’d heard all day.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I stretched out on my bed, trying to shut my brain off, and trying to piece everything together at the same time. The air conditioner in the window blasted out cold air, moving the drapes and blowing in my ear. No matter how much we tinkered with it, there seemed only the one setting so I was huddled under the covers with a comforter on top of that. Flori was lying on her bed on top of the covers, snoring softly.

  Were we on some wild goose chase? I mean, the only thing we knew for sure was that Grace was dead. We knew that she was from Yellow Rose. Now, we knew who her husband was but we didn’t know where he was. Had he followed her to Las Vegas to murder her? Why had he dumped her body behind the nursing home? Was there any connection to the murder and the nursing home? Had she lied to me when she said she wasn’t related to old Mr. Hobbs who used to live there? And, what about Andrea Williams? Where the heck was she?

  I fell asleep and dreamt that Captain Maxymowich came down to Yellow Rose to take me home… in handcuffs.

  When I next opened my eyes, Flori was already up and sitting in front of the window, watching the water. I don’t think I’d ever seen such a tranquil look on her face. Even after giving birth.

  “This is what you needed, Flori. You needed a break from Jake and all your kids.”

  Flori’s face turned pink and her eyes got watery. “Oh, Mabel, and I was sitting here, thinking how wonderful it will be to get back home and have everything back to normal.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I’m really not into the detective thing, you know.”

  “After knowing you for all these years, Flori, I should’ve known you couldn’t stay away for more than a few hours. Do you think you can last out another day or two?”

  Flori smiled. “I can do that.”

  “Why don’t you phone one of the kids before we go to Stella’s? That will give you a new lease on life.”

  She managed to catch one of her sons but he was on his way out. He didn’t seem to know where she was or whom she was with or what she was doing but it made Flori feel much better. She had made contact.

  Stella was picking us up at six and she told us not to eat anything before we came. I didn’t intend to, not after all that lunch. She informed us that there was no point in searching for drug lords before nine. In all actuality, she said, it would be better to start after midnight but Flori and I vetoed that. We didn’t want to appear like country hicks but our usual bedtime was ten in the summer and nine, in the winter. She picked us up exactly at six. When we walked into her place, the dining room table was overflowing with food and there was country music playing.

  “Oh, Stella,” Flori said, her eyes lighting up. “This looks wonderful.”

  “Do you think,” I said, “it’s wise to play the music so loud? You know, with all the surveillance we’re going to be doing? Could it draw too much attention?”

  “I thought about that,” Stella said, “but decided it would seem more natural. ‘Cause you know, if we were doing surveillance, it would all be quiet. This way, they’ll figure nobody’s surveillin’ with all the racket. What do you think, Flori?”

  I knew Flori would agree to flying to the moon if Stella suggested it, so I spoke up and said, “Maybe you’re right. They’ll think there’s just some party going on here.”

  While Stella was in the kitchen getting the appetizers, Flori said, “Wasn’t that a good idea she had? She’s going to be such a help, Mabel.”

  “You don’t have to whisper. If you yelled, she wouldn’t hear you.” I leaned over and spoke into her ear, “It actually seems a little weird to me.”

  “Oh, Mabel, don’t be so critical.” She smiled as she gazed at the table. “Look at all this food. Isn’t it grand?”

  For the next forty-five minutes, we ate, drank, and giggled hysterically. If you’re a skinny person like me and have sat at a table with two jolly over-sized people who laugh until they cry every few minutes, you’ll understand the situation. Even when the music was so loud we couldn’t hear, we still laughed. Of course, the wine may have had something to do with that.

  Our laughter came to an abrupt halt when Stella heard a car door slam. She raised her hand.

  “Listen,” she said. “I’m sure that’s comin’ from next door.”

  Personally, I hadn’t heard a thing and even Flori looked doubtful.

  We tiptoed over to the window and peered through the wooden slats. There was a car parked on the street and a man was walking to the door. He glanced up at the house, obviously attracted by the music. Which was exactly what I didn’t want.

  “Who’s that?” Flori whispered. “That doesn’t look like that man in the picture.”

  “It isn’t,” Stella whispered, in return. “That’s not Cecile Tucker. I don’t know who that guy is.”

  “I do,” I said, in a somewhat louder voice. “This is crazy. That’s Mr. Hatcher. He’s the representative from the cereal company. What would he be doing here?”

  “Do you think maybe it has to do with the trip?” Flori asked. We were no longer whispering. “Maybe Grace left something behind. You know, like her passport.”

  “We didn’t need passports. We weren’t traveling to Canada or Mexico.”

  “What about her credit card? Or, a suitcase?”

  “No, Flori. I don’t think so. Besides, if that happened, the company would get UPS or FedEx to deliver it.”

  Mr. Hatcher didn’t return to his car.

  “Where did that man go?” Flori asked. None of us had taken our eyes off the house for a moment.

  We waited for about five minutes.

  “He’s gone inside. That’s where he is.” I looked at the two women. “I don’t think we
’ll have to visit any drug houses looking for Cecile, Stella. We might be busy enough keeping watch here all night.”

  Flori let out a sigh. “Oh, I’m so glad, Mabel. I was worried about you doing that.”

  We decided that two of us should stay at the window, in case one missed something. The other would rest, in case this surveillance went on all night.

  About nine, when the sun was just going down, we started to get some action.

  “Mabel,” Flori whispered. “Come here. There’s another car pulling up.”

  There was a light on in the house now.

  The car door opened and a man got out. He was average height, dark skinned, with longish black hair and wore a black overcoat that went down past his knees. He reminded me of Cecile but Cecile looked a lot shorter in his picture.

  “Do you know who that is, Mabel?” Stella whispered.

  I tried to remember if I’d seen the man anywhere. Maybe in the casino in Las Vegas? No, I’d never set eyes on him before. I should have paid more attention on that trip. But then, how was I supposed to know there was going to be a murder?

  Whoever it was, hurried to the door, hair and coat both flapping. He disappeared from sight and we assumed he must have entered.

  “You know what I’m going to have to do,” I said. “I’m going to have to go over there and see if I can hear something. It looks like that one window might be open a crack. If I sneak over, I can stand under it and listen.”

  “Are you crazy? I won’t let you do that.” Flori grabbed my arm and glared at me. “You are not going over there.”

  “Then who is, Flori? You or Stella? Not that I want to mention anything about your size but I think I’m the one who can do this and not get caught. What would you do if you had to run? You’d never escape. But I could. Besides, I’m the one who’s most involved. You two are just helping me out. Isn’t that what you said, Flori?”

  Before Flori could get hysterical, I rushed over to the door.

  “Make sure, Stella, that if you see anyone coming or if you think one of them has discovered me, give me a warning of some kind.”

  Stella nodded. “I know just the thing, darlin’. I got this whistle my son gave me. It’s loud nuff to wake the dead. That’ll confuse them so’s you can race back here.”

  “I don’t know, Mabel. What will you do if they have guns? What if Grace was trying to find something out like you are now and that’s why she got shot?” Flori was starting to cry.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be very careful. And, Flori, you might have discovered the reason she was killed. I’m proud of you. Now, all we have to do is find out for sure.”

  Flori wasn’t sure if she should acknowledge that compliment or not. I could see the confused look on her face as I let myself out the door.

  I would have preferred complete darkness but the men might be gone by then so I had to take the chance. Instead of trying to slip through the front yard, I went around to the back lane. There were two derelict cars sitting in Cecile’s back yard. I snuck alongside the one and up to the side of the house.

  In fact, the closer I got to the window, the better it got. The voices were loud. The two men were arguing. I crouched down and listened.

  The man I didn’t know was shouting, “What’s wrong with you? I can’t trust you anymore? And, where the hell’s this Grace? I warned you about using someone you didn’t know.” He had a Mexican accent.

  Hatcher answered but he spoke too softly. I think if Stella’s music hadn’t been so loud, I might’ve heard him. Whatever he said didn’t sit too well with his companion.

  “I don’t want to listen to your excuses. You promised me this woman would be here. Where is she?”

  Another mumbled answer but I was sure he said something about losing her in Denver.

  “Why didn’t you wait for her then?” the Mexican screamed. “Where’s the money? Are you telling me that this woman took off with the money? Is that what you are saying, Amigo?”

  This time I heard Hatcher’s answer. “Keep your voice down. You want all the neighbors to hear?”

  I lifted my head to get closer to the window. What were the chances they would see me? After all, if you’re in the middle of an argument, you don’t usually start checking out all the windows, do you?

  My head was up and as I strained to see through the dirty window, an earth shattering shrill filled the air. Stella’s whistle! I turned, tripped over a water hose, caught my balance before I hit the ground, and raced to the back. There wasn’t time to run into Stella’s yard or I would’ve been seen so I went the other direction, down the back lane, heading west. I was moving as fast as a woman my age could run without having a heart attack. If there were gunshots, I could never have heard anything over the blood pounding in my ears anyway. When my heart was about to burst, I slipped into the opened door of a garage. There was a van inside. I tried the door. It was unlocked so I climbed inside and slid down in the driver’s seat.

  Why had Stella blown that darn whistle? Was there anyone searching for me? I had no idea. All I knew was that for the time being, I was safe. I stayed there, praying the owner wouldn’t come out as I had no idea how I would explain my predicament.

  It was dark when I crawled out. Perhaps, a half hour had passed. Instead of going back through the lane, I decided to circle the block and come up behind Stella’s house. All was quiet as I approached and as they say, the coast was clear.

  There was only one worry. Stella’s car was no longer on the street. I snuck under the steps and tried the garage door but Stella had locked it. Cautiously, I crept up the stairs to the living quarters.

  “Flori, Stella,” I called out, trying to be heard above the music but not down the block.

  No one answered. The door opened into the living and dining room. Although the room was in darkness except for some light from the street lamp shining in through the slats, I could see that dirty dishes and three empty wine bottles still covered the table. Flori and Stella were gone. Either they were out looking for me or they were trailing the men who had been in the house. I was hoping it would be the latter.

  I walked over to the window and looked down. The house next door was in darkness. There were no cars sitting in front. Mr. Hatcher and Associate were gone.

  I’d had about all I could take of Country and Western music but instead of shutting it off completely, I turned the sound down. Stella’s water heater or pipes knocked a few times but even that sounded better than the CD.

  Chapter Eighteen

  No one can imagine how hard it was for me to stay in that house and feel so utterly helpless. Where could the girls be? I had no idea. I dared not turn the lights on so I lit one of the candles on the table and proceeded to clear away the dirty dishes. At least, by keeping busy, I wasn’t going to worry so much. Every time I walked across the room, the water pipes seemed to rattle and bang. If I remembered, I would mention to Stella that her son might want to check it out for her.

  Every few minutes, I went over to the window to see if anything was happening at the house next door. It was still dark. I carried the candle into the kitchen and was about to fill the sink up with water when I realized that there was one thing I could do; I could go over and check out Grace’s house. That is, if it wasn’t locked.

  This time, instead of sneaking round the back, I went straight up to the front door, turned the knob, and walked in. No one suspects you of anything when you do that. Did everyone in Yellow Rose leave front doors open? Kind of like Parson’s Cove … at least, Parson’s Cove, before it became a murder town.

  The small living room appeared filled with furniture. This I discovered when I tried to walk a few steps and banged my knee against the coffee table.

  “Shitrophsky,” I mumbled, and rubbed my knee. That is my swear word of choice. Flori says it’s the same as swearing because she knows what I want to say but since she’d rather hear me say that than the real thing, she keeps quiet.

  A mixture of stale tobacco
smoke (or maybe something a little stronger?) mixed in with old food odors and the faint tinge of garbage that needed to be taken out filled the air. Not very inviting, to say the least.

  As I was standing there, in the middle of the room, in the dark, it suddenly dawned on me - why was I there when I could hardly see my hands in front of my face?

  The phone rang, piercing the silence with as many decibels as Stella’s whistle had. Or, so it seemed in that small room. I stood there, unable to move, my heart hammering, waiting for the deafening sound to stop. All of a sudden, I got this sinking feeling that maybe I wasn’t alone! What if someone were to emerge from the back part of the house and flip the lights on? If that happened, I would have a heart attack. I couldn’t think of anything else to do. The ringing stopped after four times and the answering machine kicked in.

  In the darkness, I heard a woman say, “We are unable to take your call. Please, leave a message.” I wasn’t certain but it sounded an awful lot like Grace’s voice. Then again, it might’ve been the recording that came with the machine.

  It is very creepy thinking you might be listening to a dead person’s voice even when you know it’s a recording. There was this moment of silence and then a loud beep.

  “Grace? This is Andy. Give me a call. I’m getting worried.”

  By the time, my brain went into gear and I grabbed the phone, Andrea was gone. I had only the dial tone.

  However, my little trip over to Grace’s house was not in vain. I learned two very important things: Andrea was alive and she didn’t know that Grace was dead.

  Why was she worried?

  I was definitely ready to go back to Stella’s house. After all, Cecile still lived here and I wasn’t too keen on meeting up with him in a dark room - especially one that belonged to him.

  I’d been brave going into the house but before I left, I stood on the step for a moment to take a good look around. The street was quiet. Most of the houses were in darkness. I could hear the faint sound of traffic, probably coming from the seawall. Dogs barked and a car door slammed.