by Leena Clover
I was frying pakora fritters at the diner later that evening. People couldn’t have enough of them. Most of them asked for an extra side order of the crunchy batter coated onions.
“Your granny wants you home, Meera!” Sylvie called out, hanging up on the diner phone.
“Right now?”
“That’s what she said,” Sylvie sang. “Better hurry up. And take some of them fritters home for your grandpa.”
I loaded a brown bag with the pakora fritters and walked out. Had Sally done something? I wasn’t ready to trust her yet. Maybe she was leaving again.
I walked into the kitchen, clutching the bag of fritters to my chest. They were hot!
Motee Ba and Sally were sitting at the kitchen table. They both looked worried. It was the first time I had seen any expression on Sally’s face. A small piece of paper lay in the center of the table. Both women stared at it as if it was a bomb.
“What is it? What’s going on, Motee Ba? Is everyone alright?”
Motee Ba pointed her finger at the paper.
I leaned closer and my eyes popped out. The paper was familiar, so was the writing on it.
‘You think you can just appear out of thin air? I know what you did. And I’m gonna tell.’
Although the note wasn’t addressed to anyone, I guessed it was written for Sally.
“What is the meaning of this?” Motee Ba cried.
I could see how agitated she was. Her eyes filled up with tears. She wrung her fingers and her mouth quivered. I noticed the wrinkles around her mouth for the first time.
My grandma has always been Super Mom to us. She’s over 70 but she doesn’t act like it. And it’s easy to forget she’s getting on in years.
“This family is finally coming out of mourning after all these years. Why does someone have eyes on our good fortune?”
I tried to placate her.
“Oh Motee Ba! This is just a piece of crap. Why are you paying attention to it?”
“Don’t you see, Meera? Someone is targeting us.”
“We are not the only ones, Motee Ba.”
I reminded her of the other notes.
“Almost everyone we know has received these notes. Henry, Fiona, Mary Beth…”
“But why?”
“Where did you find it anyway?”
“It was in Sally’s purse,” Motee Ba explained. “She found it when we were looking for some change.”
“So it could have been there for a long time.”
Sally shook her head.
“This is a new bag. I just started using it two days ago.”
I was amazed to hear Sally’s voice. I stared at her, feeling a bit stupid. She smiled back.
“Look, you might get more notes.”
Motee Ba shrank back when she heard that. I stroked her back.
“Most people received two or three of these. But that’s all they are. Empty threats. Don’t pay any attention to them.”
“We have to tell your father.”
I didn’t say anything. I was in trouble either way. Dad would blame the notes on me. Keeping it from him would land me in bigger trouble.
“I’m calling Stan!”
I dialed Stan’s number and waited for him to answer.
“We got a note. I mean, Sally got one.”
I spent a few minutes explaining who Sally was. Stan is a bit slow on the uptake.
“My God, Meera! This changes everything.”
“Not really, Stan. It looks like the same paper and the same trashy message. I don’t think there’s any actual threat here. Motee Ba’s worried, though.”
“Really, Meera? Don’t you see?”
I counted to five and answered patiently. “See what, Stan?”
“You got this note in the last two days. That means Dot Brown did not write it.”
It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck.
“Of course! How silly of me. I never thought of that.”
Stan let it ride. I scrambled ahead, eager to voice my immediate thoughts.
“So either someone who knows about the letters is having some fun …”
“Or Dot Brown did not write any of the letters,” Stan finished.
“What next?”
“Hold on to that letter, Meera. I’ll get it from you soon. I have to go now.”
I sat down at the table. I heard the tap tap of Pappa’s cane and I palmed the letter. I wasn’t quick enough.
“Stop right there!” he roared. “I thought I heard Hansa crying.”
He peered at his wife and his ears turned red when he saw Motee Ba’s face.
“What have you done now, girl?” he demanded, tapping his cane.
“Nothing!” I said mildly. “I brought over some pakoras for you. They are hot.”
“Forget the pakoras and answer me!”
There’s no reasoning with Pappa when he’s in this mood. The commotion brought the remaining Patel men into the kitchen.
Dad pushed his glasses back on his face, looking around.
“What’s wrong, Ba?” he asked his mother. “Why are you crying?”
Sally’s face was devoid of any expression. She was calmly watching the scene unfold. Jeet stood behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. He flung his other arm at me.
“I bet Meera said something nasty to Mom. And that made Motee Ba cry.”
“Is that true, Meera?” Dad’s voice hardened.
“I did no such thing, Dad.”
“She’s hiding something,” Pappa declared. “Right there, in her hand.”
Jeet came around in a flash and pulled the paper out of my hand before I had a chance to protest.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“It was in my bag,” Sally spoke up.
“Relax!” I tried to calm everyone down. “She’s not the first one to get it. Lots of people have been getting those ugly notes.”
Dad had finished reading the note by then.
“Looks like some kind of threat. And what does it mean, ‘I’m gonna tell?’ What is it talking about?”
“The letters usually refer to some silly secret. In this case, I don’t know what it is.”
I looked at Sally.
“Are you suggesting your mother’s hiding something?” Dad cried. “Mind what you say, Meera.”
Pappa had settled into a chair, and had finally started eating the pakoras.
“This is all your fault, girl,” Pappa said, smacking his lips. “You’re meddling in other people’s business.”
“Dot Brown was killed for these,” Motee Ba informed everyone. “Meera thought Dot Brown was blackmailing people. But doesn’t look like Dot wrote them after all.”
“That’s it!” Dad boomed. “Enough of this nonsense, Meera. Let the police do their job.”
“They’re doing their job, Dad. And I’m just helping them.”
“Why? Are you planning to join the police force?”
I knew what was coming next.
“Your brother’s going to Harvard, Meera. Harvard. Are you planning to be a college dropout all your life?”
I refused to look up or respond.
“Why don’t you dust up those books, think about finishing your degree? Finish your thesis and maybe I can put in a word for you in the department.”
Dad has always wanted me to be a teacher like him. It’s the most boring job in the world.
“We can talk about that later, Dad.”
“We are talking about it now,” Dad put his foot down. “Get into my office. We are pulling up a study plan for you right now.”
“Okay, okay, I will think about enrolling in summer school and finish my credits. But that’s got nothing to do with this case.”
“You have too much time on your hands, Meera. That’s what’s behind all this. Think about doing something fruitful.”
“An empty mind is a Devil’s workshop!” Pappa drawled between bites of fritters.
“Navaro betho nakkhod Wale,” Motee Ba supplied the Gu
jarati version.
“What about this note?” Jeet cried. “Is someone going to hurt Mom? We just found her.”
Jeet’s almost 18 but he can be a baby. I saw he was on the verge of tears.
“No one’s hurting Sally. That letter’s just a piece of trash.”
“You’re moving into the house,” Pappa declared, pointing a finger at Sally. “I want the whole family under one roof.”
“Where’s that Stan Miller when you need him?” Dad cried. “He needs to offer us some protection.”
“Be careful for a while, please,” Motee Ba said, taking Sally’s hands in hers. “Don’t go off on your own. Take one of us with you. At least until all this blows over.”
Sally smiled back at Motee Ba.
“If anything happens to your mother, Meera…” Dad turned around and banged the door behind him.
Jeet finished Dad’s line.
“It will be your fault, Meera!”
I sat stunned, feeling sorry for myself.
Sally patted my hand.
“You’re not afraid, are you?” I asked.
She shrugged.
“These letters are just a nuisance, Sally. I think someone’s just having a big laugh out of them. There have been no demands. And no one’s been hurt.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Dot Brown was a victim of those notes. No other motive had come to light.
Sally’s letter had ripped any theories I had into shreds. I would have to start all over. I went into my room and stared at the white board, wiling it to offer some divine inspiration.
I was beginning to think Dot Brown’s murder would remain unsolved.
Chapter 24
Sally moved into the house that night. No one went against Pappa’s word. She had a room to herself but I felt crowded anyway.
“Does this mean I have the guest house back?” I asked Motee Ba.
She refused to answer.
That set the tone for the next few days. I was getting the silent treatment. Sally was the only one who continued to smile at me.
“They have found me guilty without trial,” I complained to Tony.
We were sitting on his truck’s tailgate outside the gas station, gazing at the stars. I was gnawing through a bunch of candy bars.
“Have they stopped feeding you too?” Tony joked. “You’ll be sick if you eat any more candy.”
“Maybe that will get them talking.”
“Have you apologized?” Tony asked quietly.
“To whom? And for what?”
“Do you need to have a reason? Just say sorry to everyone. Won’t cost you anything, being humble before your family.”
“Okay, I’ll try that.”
A police cruiser pulled up, lights flashing. We jumped down from the truck in alarm. Stan waddled out, looking important.
“There’s been a death. Looks like suicide.”
I wondered why Stan was telling us about it. I didn’t want to know about every crime in the county.
“Who is it?” Tony asked.
“Girl by name of Cindy Fowler. New in town.”
“Never heard the name,” I said.
“She was at the WOSCO meeting where Dot Brown was killed. And she was also at that party you threw, Meera.”
“Is she that brown haired woman who’s always staring at her feet?”
“Could be. They found a suicide note but we are not sure she killed herself. Tell your Mom to be careful, Meera.”
Stan got back in his car and sped away.
I looked at Tony in alarm.
“Let’s get you home,” he said, climbing into the truck.
We were home within minutes. I burst into the kitchen on the usual dinner time scene. Motee Ba was stirring something on the stove and Sally was chopping cucumbers.
“Stan just gave us some news,” Tony announced.
Motee Ba turned around in alarm.
“You remember that girl you were talking to on our patio? The shy one who shuffles her feet?”
“Cindy?” Motee Ba asked.
“That’s the one, I think,” I said. “Seems like they just found her.”
“Found her where, Meera?” Motee Ba didn’t hide her frustration.
She hadn’t forgiven me yet.
“Found her gone, Granny,” Tony said quietly.
He lifted a finger skyward.
Motee Ba dropped the spatula she was holding. Sally looked faintly troubled.
“What happened to her?” Motee Ba asked, flopping down on a chair.
“She took her own life,” I reported. “Apparently.”
I saw the question in my grandma’s eyes.
“Stan doesn’t believe it. He’ll tell us when he finds out more.”
Tony had gone into Dad’s study. He must have filled Dad in.
There seemed to be some kind of unspoken truce that night. No one spoke to me but at least they didn’t glare at me through dinner.
Tony offered to stay over.
“How about staying up watching movies, hunh?” he winked. “We haven’t done that in a while.”
“I’ve got school tomorrow,” Jeet reminded us.
Tony finally left, cautioning me to double check all the doors and windows before turning in.
Morning couldn’t have come any sooner. I flipped omelets for breakfast. I heard someone breathing heavily outside and hoped it was Stan. He walked in, looking sleepy.
I fixed him a plate and let him eat a few bites.
“So?”
“She was strangled,” he said flatly. “The official report will take time but that’s what the cause is.”
“She couldn’t have done it herself, I suppose?”
“Darn right she couldn’t,” Stan snorted.
“You mentioned some kind of note?”
Stan pulled out a paper from his pocket. It was a photocopy but the writing was clearly visible.
‘I am so ashamed. I can’t take it anymore. Nobody is to blame.’
It was signed Cindy.
“The print’s not the same,” I noted immediately.
Stan agreed with me.
“Do you think this is related to Dot Brown?”
“There’s no way to tell right now but I believe it is. She was present at the party when Dot died.”
“So were two dozen women, Stan. That doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“We are running a background check on her. Trying to find out more about her.”
“Does she have any family in the area?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“The method is the same. What do you call it? M.O or something? Doesn’t that point to the same person?”
Stan nodded.
“That’s not enough to put a person behind bars.”
I was in a daze all day, trying to forget the awkward brown haired woman who had been too shy to talk to anyone.”
“Any more news about Cindy?” Motee Ba asked me when I got home.
“She was new in town, wasn’t she?”
Motee Ba nodded.
“Her parents live over in Kansas. She was working as a temp, looking for a permanent position.”
“What did she do?”
“Any job she got. She subbed at the elementary school, worked as a secretary, or manned the cash register at the florist’s.”
“She worked at the school?” I asked. “Did she know Dot Brown?”
“I guess so,” Motee Ba said. “Dot retired long ago but you know she did a lot of volunteer work. The school board often asked her to vet new candidates. She may have interviewed Cindy.”
Here was a clear connection between the two victims. I wondered if Stan knew about it.
“Why did she come to Swan Creek?”
“People talked about her. They said she had an affair with some married man back home. The wife threatened her. So she left town overnight.”
“That sounds impossible. She could barely say Hello to people, she was so shy.”
Motee Ba ag
reed. I wondered about the real reason Cindy Fowler had moved to Swan Creek.
Stan called later that night.
“It’s official. Cindy Fowler was murdered. She was strangled using some kind of cloth.”
“Poor Cindy,” I said, feeling sorry for the woman.
“Her parents are coming from Kansas tomorrow.”
“Did you find anything in her house? Any letters?”
“That was the first thing I looked for. But doesn’t look like she got any of those threatening letters, Meera.”
I dreamt about Mary Beth Arlington that night. She was telling me about what she wanted to do for WOSCO. I had forgotten all about it the next day until I ran into Missy. I was on my way to grab a sandwich from the food court.
“Hi Meera! How are you?”
She sounded cheerful and happy. Maybe leaving her husband was going well for her.
“How’s your mother?” I asked politely.
“She’s in shock. You heard about Cindy Fowler, I suppose?”
I nodded.
“Mom got her settled in when she was new in town. She’d grown attached to her.”
I went back to my desk and sat chewing my sandwich. I was wondering why Mary Beth would care about the mousy Cindy. Then I remembered.
I called home, hoping to talk to Motee Ba.
“What is it Meera?” she asked curtly.
Both Motee Ba and Sally had found their movements curtailed, thanks to a missive from Pappa. They were getting tired of being cooped up at home. I was of course getting the blame for it.
“Do you WOSCO gals still have that Welcome Committee going?”
“Of course!”
“What does it do?”
“Exactly what it says. We welcome any new women into town. We provide them temporary accommodation until they get a home of their own. We help them find jobs.”
“Who does all that?”
“Everyone takes turns.”
“Did Cindy get the same welcome?”
“She must have. Mary Beth would know about it.”
My weird dream suddenly made sense to me.
“Looks like we’re going back to Mary Beth’s,” I told Becky as I stepped into the diner.
Mary Beth Arlington was free and eager to talk to us. The table held a platter of warm chocolate chip cookies and banana bread.
“Do you prefer milk or sweet tea?” she asked.
I opted for the milk. And two slices of moist, rich banana bread bursting with walnuts and cinnamon.