Candy Cane Killer

by Kate Bell

  “Mama, why don’t you give me that key and I’ll go take care of the Elephant’s Ears?”

  She looked at me doubtfully. “It’ll die if it’s over watered.”

  “Alec and I will be careful,” I promised.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “You want to snoop around, don’t you?”

  I gave her my most charming smile. “You know who I take after.”

  She went over to a small junk drawer in the cabinet that held the pots and pans and rooted around in it. I went over to stand beside her and watched. She had matchbooks from the seventies and what looked like hundreds of used and unused twist ties in there, as well as two sharpies, freezer tape, batteries, light bulbs, and an assortment of other small items.

  Finally she pulled out a worn brass key. “Here it is. Don’t you lose it,” she said, handing it to me, but still holding on to the end of it.

  “I promise,” I said and she let go of it.

  I trotted into the living room where Alec was sitting with his feet up on the sofa, reading a novel on his Kindle.

  “Guess what?” I asked excitedly.

  He raised one eyebrow and looked at me.

  “I have a key to Tom’s house.”

  A smiled spread across his face and he put his Kindle down on the coffee table and jumped up. “What are we waiting for?”

  We headed toward the front door, and he stopped suddenly. “Does your mother have surgical gloves? We don’t want to contaminate anything.”

  I turned and sprinted back to the kitchen, opened the cupboard under the sink and searched around.

  “What are you looking for?” Mama asked, as she peeled potatoes.

  I grabbed some gloves, held them up for Mama to see and ran back to Alec. I held them out to him.

  “Really?” he asked, looking at my offering of yellow Playtex dishwashing gloves.

  “Take it or leave it,” I said.

  “Okay,” he said, and we headed next door.

  He put the yellow gloves on and I followed suit. His gloves fit snugly against his larger hands.

  It was eerie, standing on Tom’s porch as Alec unlocked the door. Inside it was dark and smelled stale, almost as if the house knew its owner was dead and wouldn’t be coming back and it had given up.

  Alec flipped the living room light on and everything came into view. It had been years since I had been in Tom’s house and I was surprised that this was no swinging senior bachelor’s pad. Instead, it looked like a little old lady’s house with frilly lampshades and crocheted doilies on the arms of the sofa and wing chairs. The carpet was dark brown and a vacuum cleaner stood by one wall, still plugged into the wall socket. The coffee table was scuffed on the corners. It was a little old lady’s paradise.

  The sad little artificial Christmas tree stood on an end table in front of the front window. It’s branches hung down as if it knew Tom wasn’t coming back to turn its lights on. There were two stockings hung over the faux fireplace and I wondered who the second stocking was for.

  “Where do we look?” I asked.

  “Anywhere. Put everything back where you got it. Make it look like we were never here,” he said, heading over to a little table in the hall that held an old black rotary phone. He opened the little drawer on the table and started searching.

  I went to the kitchen and saw the plant Mama had been worried about. It was drooping, so I turned the water on at the sink and held it under the stream. The kitchen was neat and clean, with dishes still in the drainer. I tried not to think about the fact that Tom was never coming back here to put the dishes away.

  I put the plant back on the plate that caught the draining water and pulled open kitchen drawers. Utensils, knives, and serving spoons were in the first three. The fourth drawer was a junk drawer, very much like Mama’s. I sorted through the various items, hoping to find something interesting. I sighed after I had moved everything aside. A brass key, like the one Mama had removed from her junk drawer was in the back corner. I wondered if it was Mama’s and I slipped it into my pocket to try on her door. I didn’t want anyone else coming over here and looking through things and getting the key to her house.

  The rest of the cupboards and drawers yielded nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like Tom could probably cook, but nothing fancy. Things were kept neat and orderly, just as I expected.

  I went back into the living room and Alec was thumbing through a notebook. “What’s that?” I whispered. Being in someone’s house uninvited made me want to whisper, even if that someone was dead and wouldn’t protest.

  “It looks like Tom really was quite the ladies’ man,” he said without looking up.

  “What?” I asked, leaning over his shoulder.

  “I found Tom’s little black book,” he said, looking up at me as I came around to look. “And it really is black,” he said, showing me the front of the spiral bound notebook.

  “Wow,” I said, trying to get a look at the names.

  “Wait a minute. My Mama isn’t in there, is she?” I asked, suddenly freaked out. “Tell me she isn’t.”

  “Hold on,” he said and flipped to the letter H. “As a matter of fact, she is.”

  “What? Why would she be in there?” I asked.

  “Maybe he couldn’t remember her phone number so he had to write it down,” Alec said.

  “Stop it!” I said. “You don’t think Tom dated my mother, do you?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “I need to ask her about this. I mean, if he was seeing my mother, why would he be seeing other women?” I said, thinking out loud.

  “Here’s a thought, Allie. Maybe it’s her business,” he said looking at me.

  I gasped. “Excuse me? Are you saying it’s none of my business? Is that what you’re saying?”

  He shrugged and went back to looking through the book.

  “Well, it is my business. She’s my mother,” I said.

  “Okay,” he said noncommittally.

  I huffed and went into the bathroom to see if anything was in there. He had no idea what he was talking about. I needed to keep an eye on my mother, even if it was from a distance.

  “It’s just an address book, Allie,” Alec called from the hall. “It’s nothing to get excited about.”

  I sighed and didn’t answer him.

  --9--

  I opened Tom’s medicine cabinet and found the usual array of meds an older person might have. High blood pressure, high cholesterol, and another for acid reflux. I sighed. In spite of what we’d been told, including the list John had given us and the little black book Alec had found, it was still hard for me to see Tom Turner as someone anybody would want to kill.

  I closed the medicine cabinet and opened the cupboard under the sink. I found the usual items there. Toilet paper, soap, cleaning supplies. I stood back up and wandered into the guest bedroom across the hall.

  The room was done in dusky blues reminiscent of the country blue themes many Southern homes had featured back in the late eighties. A queen size bed was positioned in the corner and covered in that dusky blue coverlet and blue sham-covered pillows. Three decorator pillows in the same blue and covered in cream colored embroidered flowers sat in front of the bed pillows. Two square and one round.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out the drawer in the bedside table. Huh. There was an empty prescription bottle with Mable Townsend’s name on it. I tried to remember who Mabel was, but I drew a blank. The med was clomipramine hcl. I tried to remember what that was or what it was for, but my mind was a blank. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and Googled the name, fumbling with the buttons in my Playtex rubber gloves.

  Well, whoever Mabel was, she had depression, or OCD. I set it on the top of the bedside table and pulled out an old TV Guide from 1998 featuring Jerry Seinfeld on the cover. Next I found a prayer card from the Catholic Church and an index card with a recipe for oatmeal cookies. I read it over and it sounded good, so I borrowed it. Tom wasn’t going to be mak
ing cookies any time soon, anyway.

  The closet was empty except for a couple of sweaters and ladies’ cardigans. I wondered if Mabel had been a long time guest of Tom’s. The room was neat and tidy and there wasn’t much left to look at, so I went in search of Alec.

  I found him rummaging through Tom’s bedside table, setting each item on top of it.

  “Look what I found,” I said, holding up the medicine bottle. “Oh, and a recipe for oatmeal cookies. I’ll have to make some while we’re here.”

  “Who’s Mabel?” he asked, examining the label on the bottle.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, but there are a couple of ladies’ sweaters in the guest bedroom. My mother might know her.”

  “Well, the house seems pretty clean so far,” he commented.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. Tom kept a clean house. He didn’t go in much for knick-knacks and there were vacuum marks on the dark brown carpeting. There was another bedside table with a small lamp on it on the other side of the queen size bed. A small glass and a small plate with crumbs sat on top of it, pushed to the back corner. I got up and went around to the other side of the bed.

  “This is one of my mother’s plates,” I said, picking it up. There was a dark smear covering the pink rose pattern on it and dark crumbs. I brought it to my nose and sniffed. “Chocolate.”

  “So maybe your mother brought him a snack?” Alec asked, not looking at me.

  “My mother can’t bake,” I said. “Why would it have chocolate on it? Cake or brownies, I’m guessing.”

  “Maybe she brought him something else, and then he used the plate for a chocolate bedtime snack,” he said, still rummaging through the drawer. There he went, being pragmatic again, and probably completely right. I hated when he was right.

  “Maybe. But what would she have brought him on this small of a plate? My mother cooks, but she doesn’t bake, and this is a dessert plate. I can’t imagine what she might have brought him on such a small plate if it wasn’t dessert.”

  Alec snickered. “Maybe she brought him one biscuit?”

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “My mother doesn’t do one biscuit.” I picked up the small glass, and it had a dried white ring on the inside bottom. Whatever he had eaten, he had had a glass of milk to go with it. What else would it be except cake or brownies? Or a frosted chocolate cookie. I added the plate to my medicine bottle find.

  We went through the house, room by room, cupboard by cupboard. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Tom’s house was small, but it did have a den. I stepped down into the dark room and flipped on the light switch.

  “Wow,” I said. Tom was a collector of sorts. There were swords and daggers hanging on the walls. Some were mounted on wood and some hung by wires on the wall. Some had intricate handle carvings, and some had curved blades. I couldn’t tell if this stuff was genuine and expensive, or something you bought at Walmart in the gaming department. But at first glance, it looked impressive.

  “Wow is right,” Alec agreed, stepping down into the room. “Want to bet the murder weapon was hanging on the wall somewhere? John and I were rather surprised by this find.”

  “I think I know how that bet would land,” I said. There were several places on the wall that were bare. Some had nail holes in the wall and some still had thin wire hangers still attached to the wall.

  We took a closer look at the daggers hanging on the wall. Alec picked up one that had a spiky edged patterned blade and held it close to examine it. “Getting stabbed with this thing would be vicious,” he said. “When you pull it out, it would rip off flesh.”

  I shuddered. “Thanks for the visual.”

  He put the dagger back. “John had some of the missing items taken to the lab, but there were some bare spots when we were here the day of the murder.”

  I nodded. “Do you know how many items John took? It looks like at least nine are missing.”

  “More than that. See that credenza? There are empty stands there. I’ll ask John and see what he says.”

  “So, have we learned anything?” I asked as we looked around the room.

  He shook his head. “Not much. The notebook might come in handy. We’ll ask your mother if she knows anything about the people listed in it. It might just be an address book. There are some men’s names in it, including people with the same last name as his.”

  “Is Mabel in the notebook?” I asked.

  He opened it up and flipped to T and then turned the page. He shook his head. “No. Mabel is not in here.”

  “That’s odd,” I said.

  We searched the rest of the house, including the garage and didn’t find much else to go on. On our way out the front door, I stopped. There had been vacuum marks in the bedroom, and every other room that had carpet, including the living room. The carpet was old and had a longer nap than what was sold in stores today. The vacuum marks were clear because of the length of the nap. Except right in front of the La-Z-Boy, the carpet was pressed down.

  “Hey,” I said to Alec’s back as he opened the front door. He turned to look at me. “Look at the carpet in front of the La-Z-Boy. It’s flattened, and it extends in front of the sofa.”

  “He may have spent some time in front of the television before he died,” he said.

  “Maybe. But the vacuum is still plugged into the wall and sitting out. Everything in this house is neat and in order. Nothing is left out, except this plate and the milk glass. Other than that, it’s neat,” I said. “Maybe the killer came in the house and they argued and then struggled in front of the sofa and chair, right before they killed him. He could have run outside to try and escape.”

  “Good eye, Columbo. I’ll make a note of it. John has already taken fingerprints, although if Tom’s as much a ladies man as certain people seem to think, they’re likely to find a few of them.”

  “See? I’m a good investigator,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him.

  “Whatever,” he said with an eye roll.

  We walked out of the house, locking the door behind us. Alec had the little black book, and I had Mama’s plate and Mabel’s medicine bottle.

  “Can we get in trouble for removing this stuff from Tom’s house? Can you get in trouble for stealing from the dead?” I asked as we headed back to my mother’s house.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, you can get in trouble for stealing from the dead, although usually it’s called grave robbing. But obviously we didn’t rob from the grave. And removing evidence is a huge no no. But we’ll put it back when we’re done with it,” he said. “We don’t want to spend Christmas in jail.”

  “No, an orange jumpsuit still won’t go with my red hair,” I said.

  --10--

  “Mama,” I called as we entered the house. “Mama?”

  “Yes, dear?” she asked, poking her head out the kitchen door.

  “I found something next door,” I said holding up the plate with the pink roses on it.

  She looked intently at the plate, but didn’t say anything.

  “Well? It smells like chocolate,” I said, holding the plate under my nose. “And since you don’t bake, I’m wondering why?”

  “Well, you know, Allie, just because you know I can’t bake, doesn’t mean others don’t think I can’t bake.” She gave me a big smile and walked into the living room and took a seat on the sofa.

  “Ew, Mom, that’s kind of gross. Stealing a dead man’s plate and smelling it?” Thad said, not bothering to look up from his iPad.

  “Whatever, Thad. Mama, did you take Tom a store bought cake and tell him you baked it?” I was going to get to the bottom of this.

  Mama breathed out deeply. “Allie, that’s ridiculous. I would never do that.”

  “No?” I asked, not really sure I believed her.

  Alec went and sat next to Thad, and pulled his phone out. “I don’t know what difference it makes,” he said.

  “Yes, what difference does it make?” Mama asked, feeling smug with Alec’
s support.

  “All right then. You can make dessert tonight,” I said and headed toward the kitchen. I put the plate in the sink and ran water over it.

  “Someone needs to be more respectful to their mother,” Alec called to my back.

  I hated when he was right. It didn’t really matter, but I was nosey as could be.

  “I don’t know why you have to make a big deal over this,” Mama hissed as she came up from behind me.

  I shrugged. “I told you before, you know who I take after.” I gave her a big smile. I wasn’t intending to be mean, I just wanted to know what was going on with her.

  “All right. I bought brownies at the Piggly Wiggly and I brought him one. And told him I made it. I had so much competition with the other ladies bringing him sweets and things. I had to fight back somehow,” she admitted, turning pink.

  “Mama, why did you think you had competition? You don’t need to bribe a man with food to get him to like you. You’re just about the best person in this town. You’re caring, you help people all the time, you’re sweet, and smart,” I said, turning toward her. “Any man should be lucky to have you. If that’s what you really want.”

  She sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I know I shouldn’t have felt that way, but I just kept seeing Ida and Anne showing up there. I knew they were bringing him baked goods and I couldn’t do that unless I cheated. He never knew the difference.”

  “Well, I guess that just shows you he had no taste in women nor dessert. He had someone as wonderful as you living right next door and he was looking around,” I said. “And if he had been a real foodie, he would have known those baked goods came from the grocery store.”

  “Unless he was just trying to be nice, I suppose,” she said. “He really was a nice man, you know.”

  I ignored that. I was really having doubts as to whether Tom Turner was a nice man or not.

  “We have something to show you,” I said. I went to the kitchen door and signaled to Alec to come into the kitchen.