Death of the Pickle King

by Marlene Chabot

  “All right, Mary, sit tight. I’m going to have a chat with the thief. I’ve got to get his side of the story even though I know what comes out of his mouth won’t be as interesting as having heard the truth. Is there anyone you’d like to call while you’re waiting?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, my aunt. She needs to arrange a ride for me.”

  “YOU’RE DARN LUCKY I was home, Mary,” my nerdy Nordic neighbor Rod Thompson said when he collected me from the police station. “I had planned to go cross country skiing with a buddy of mine this afternoon.”

  I claimed my belongings and then followed him out onto the street. “You shouldn’t have changed your plans for me, Rod. I could’ve found another ride.”

  He laughed. “And miss seeing you squirm. Not on your life. I warned you about taking things into your own hands.” He unlocked the passenger door for me. “So, what exactly did you get brought in for?”

  “Can you wait till we return to the Foley? I’m not up to rehashing everything again for my aunt’s sake.” I stared at the passenger seat before climbing in. No room for my butt. The seat was ladened with empty food wrappers from Arby’s and Milt’s. I shoved the garbage unto the floor mat and slid in.

  “Sure.”

  ~39~

  Aunt Zoe smothered me in her arms the second Rod and I walked in the door. “Mary, thank goodness you’re out of jail. I’ve been sitting here fretting ever since you called, imaging what sort of hoodlums you were locked up with in that building. ” Finally relinquishing her hold on me, she then claimed Rod Thompson’s hands. “Rod, you don’t know how much I appreciate your going to get my niece. I didn’t know who else to call. I tried Reed and family members first, but no one picked up.”

  “Christmas is just around the corner,” I reminded her, “They’re probably out shopping.”

  Rod dismissed my aunt’s concerns with a wave of the hand. “No problem, Zoe. I was glad to help out,” he added with a smirk targeted at me.

  My aunt shook her head. “Its times like this that I wish I’d followed through with those driving lessons I’d signed up for in November. I don’t know why I chickened out.”

  I do. I talked her out of it. She’d be a danger on four wheels.

  Aunt Zoe’s short fingers pointed to the living room. “Rod, can you chat for a few minutes, or have you got plans?”

  “Sure. I’m in no rush.” His towering military-poised body followed her into the living room. “My buddy cancelled our cross country ski date.”

  What? That’s not the version he gave me. You mean I apologized for nothing. All right I’m taking the La-Z-Boy and he can have the stupid decked out couch along with the humongous tossed pillows Aunt Zoe hasn’t taken care of yet.

  Not wanting my aunt to continue believing she can persuade Rod to do anything she requests, I gently broke the news. “Actually, there was no need to invite Rod to stay. The spiel I gave him when we left the police station convinced him to sit with us for a spell.”

  Her eyes widened like an owls. “Oh?”

  The undercurrent of my aunt’s comment slowly caught up to me. She thinks more is going on between Rod and me than we let on. Well, she’s in for a rude awakening. I’ve told her over and over again the only two men I’d even accept a marriage proposal from is Trevor or David.

  “Yup, it’s true,” Rod chimed in. “She promised to explain why she got arrested when we got back here.” The guy was having a devil of a time trying to get comfortable on the glitzy, slippery fabric still covering the leather couch and boy was I enjoying his dilemma.

  “I still can’t believe you got arrested,” Aunt Zoe stated.

  I pressed my hands to my cheeks. “Me neither. You can’t imagine how embarrassing it was sitting around with all those criminals waiting to be processed.”

  “I bet they made you change into an orange jump suit,” she said.

  “No, thank God. Orange is not my color.”

  Rod leaned forward on the couch and pressed his elbows into his knees. “So how did you end up in the slammer? Did you get caught stealing something or sass back to a cop?”

  “You really think I would do either of those things?”

  He slapped his knees. “Nah, I guess not. You’re too uptight, but that’s good, right, Zoe.”

  She fiddled with her hands. “Why, ah, yes. Absolutely.”

  I felt like a spoiled child. I crossed my arms and shot them an icy stare. “Do you want to hear what really happened to me or not?”

  “Of course,” they replied.

  “Okay, but no more comments from the peanut gallery. Got it?”

  Aunt Zoe answered for the both of them, “Yup.”

  I relaxed my arms. “My dilemma all began with a simple suggestion from you auntie.”

  “She’s right. I wanted us to walk around the neighborhood and see if we could find Gracie. Oh, and look for the guy who stole sunglasses from Raj Singi’s shop while we were at it too,” she blurted out. “But I never thought we’d be in any danger.”

  Great. I can always depend on her to share information I don’t want her to.

  Rod shook his head in disbelief. “You two were looking for a criminal? Whatever happened to common sense? Cops are supposed to hunt for a thief, not you. That’s their job.”

  “We know. But Aunt Zoe happened to spot him outside Marty’s grocery store a few days ago, so we thought why not see if the thief was still hanging around there. If he was, we’d notify the cops.”

  “But my feet were killing me after the little bit of walking we did,” Aunt Zoe explained, “so Mary told me she’d go on without me.”

  I’d been stiffly poised on the edge of the La-Z-Boy, but soon gave my back over to the comfy chair and gently rocked, hoping the motion would calm my nerves. Dredging up what happened over an hour ago bothered me more than I thought it would.

  I picked up Aunt Zoe’s story thread and went on. “When I got to Marty’s, there was no sign of activity outside the store, so I went inside to warm up for a bit and sample some freebies. I sure didn’t expect to see that little thief wandering around inside with the bag of sunglasses. I confronted him. Then wham, we both fell to the floor, me on top of him, and the manager informed us he’d called the cops.”

  “That’s hilarious,” Rod said, having a hard time keeping himself upright.

  “It’s not that funny. If you keep it up, you’re going to break a blood vessel in one of your eyes,” I warned, “and then that pretty face of yours won’t look so appealing.”

  The nerd ignored me and kept on laughing.

  “Please, Rod, settle down,” Aunt Zoe begged, “I want to find out how Mary convinced the police to let her go.”

  Rod pressed his large muscular hand to his chest. “Forgive me, Zoe, but picturing a woman on the floor wrestling with a man is something one usually only sees in slapstick comedy. Mary, do you know if anyone captured you on video for YouTube?”

  “I hope not.” I felt a smile rising to the surface. “I have to admit the situation does sound like it would be hilarious if one was watching the scene unfold from the sidelines. Anyway, after ending up at the substation, I was taken to a room and questioned by one of the cops.”

  “Just like on TV,” Aunt Zoe interrupted.

  I nodded. “I’m darn lucky the cop didn’t get to grill me as long as he would’ve liked.”

  “What stopped him,” she asked, “an emergency call?”

  “Nope. It was Matt’s friend Sgt. Murchinak. When he learned that I’d been arrested, he told the other cop to take a break and he’d finish up with the people brought in from the grocery store. He only spoke with me for five minutes or so before he released me. After he escorted me to the nearest phone, he took the sunglass thief back to the same room and raked him over the coals.

  “Oh, Auntie, I almost forgot to tell you something Sgt. Murchinak shared with me as I was leaving the police station?”

  “What?”

  “Stanley Foghorn, the thief, wasn’t
an old man after all. He was a twenty-year-old wearing an expensive disguise he’d stolen from the Guthrie costume department.”

  Aunt Zoe poked Rod with her elbow. “Mary kept saying the guy was too agile to be an old man and she was right. How about that?”

  Rod glanced down at his feet. “Yeah, how about that,” he softly repeated.

  I cleared my throat. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish up sometime today.”

  “Of course,” Aunt Zoe replied. “I thought you’d told us everything.”

  “Not quite.” I clasped my hands together and rested them in my lap. “It turns out the cops in the area have been looking for Stanley for over three years. As soon as someone reported sighting him he’d disappear under a rock.”

  “Did Sgt. Murchinak ever mention how much stuff he’s stolen or if there was a reward for finding him?” she asked excitedly.

  “Nope.”

  “What an ingenious thief,” Rod commented before moving into FBI mode. “Most are not that smart you know. Hmm? I wonder if he was involved with an underground group.”

  I pushed myself out of the La-Z-Boy. “I don’t know and I don’t really care, Rod. My mind’s been on overload too long already. All I want to do is take a shower and then have a stiff drink. Now, if you’ll excuse me....”

  Rod stood. “Is that my hint to leave?”

  I turned to face him. “You’d better believe it.”

  ~40~

  Day 14

  Sunday. A day of rest. And I’m taking full advantage of it, including keeping my mind off the case. But before I permit myself to lounge around the house in sweats, stuff myself with Lay’s potato chips, and binge out on classic movies from the forties, there’s something I want to take care of first, church obligations.

  Most Sunday’s my aunt and I join my parents at their church in Spring Lake Park, but today I’ve decided on a change of venue. We’d attend services at the Basilica of St. Mary in Minneapolis which opened in the early 1900’s and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. I’d never been there before nor had Aunt Zoe, as far as I knew. So she probably wouldn’t fuss about the break in routine.

  I climbed out of bed and rummaged through the closet trying to select the proper clothing for church. A black knit pantsuit and long-sleeved white blouse seemed a good combination. I set them on the bed and then returned to the closet to hunt for the dressy black boots I wore almost a year ago.

  Within seconds I found the boots at the back of the closet. As I picked them up and got off my knees, I wondered if Margaret Grimshaw would like to go to the basilica as well. I glanced at the clock radio on the nightstand. It’s 7:30. I’d better act fast if I’m going to catch her. She’ll be taking off soon for St. Olaf’s, the church she usually attends.

  An hour and forty-five minutes later the three of us rode the elevator down to the Foley’s garage level and slipped into the car ready to attend church services.

  The second I backed the VW out of its allotted parking spot my two chatty companions simultaneously went into silent mode as if they’d made a mutual agreement not to break my concentration, which I appreciated. Too much talk in the car and I could easily miss a turn. I’ve done it before.

  Once I hooked up to Interstate 94 going north though, things changed. Margaret broke through the quiet interlude, smoothing out a few wrinkles in her wool coat at the same time. “I want to thank you for inviting me to go to the basilica,” she said. “I’ve lived in Minneapolis for over forty years and have never set foot in there yet.”

  “Neither have we,” Aunt Zoe informed her from the back seat, “But I understand the stained glass windows are worth seeing as well as the carved marble altar that came from Italy.”

  With a minute to spare before exiting off the freeway for the basilica, I felt I owed my passengers a brief explanation for our special trip since seeing the structure of the building and its art work was only a minor reason for going there. “A friend of mine from college, Cindy, suggested I come by sometime. She’s been in charge of the lectors and servers at the basilica since this past September.”

  Ah,” Margaret said. “I wondered if this visit involved the case you’re working on.”

  “Definitely not,” I replied as I pulled into the basilica’s parking lot ten minutes before mass.

  After Aunt Zoe stepped out of the car, she offered her arm to our neighbor and helped her get a steady footing on the blacktop. “It’s so peaceful here, isn’t it Margaret? I’m glad there’s nothing surrounding the church services that will stress Mary or me out. You wouldn’t believe the terrible ordeal we went through yesterday.”

  The ninety-year-old’s almost transparent eyebrows arched considerably. “What are you talking about, Zoe?”

  Here we go again. I slipped an arm around Margaret’s free arm and leisurely guided my companions towards one of the eight double bronze doors. “Nothing that can’t wait till we get home to divulge,” I said, and then slid in talk about the basilica’s active church community and their annual Block Party, a two day music festival.

  Once we settled into a pew near the front, Margaret and Zoe pulled out their rosaries and joined others in the recitation of Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s.

  While they prayed devotedly, I gazed around the church and watched for any sign of my friend Cindy. If she was at this mass, I intended to ask her to join us for breakfast at the French Meadow Bakery and Cafe on Lyndale Avenue. Even though I hadn’t mentioned my breakfast plans with my companions, I was positive they’d like the idea.

  The recitation of the rosary finally ended and prelude music began, but there was still no sign of my friend. Perhaps I’ll spot her after mass.

  And I did. But her morning wasn’t free. It was her turn to give a tour of the basilica after the 9:30 mass. “Darn,” I said, “I’d hoped my friend could’ve joined us for breakfast at the French Meadow Bakery and Café.”

  “Mary, dear, we don’t need to go out to breakfast,” Margaret said as we walked back to the car. “I’ve fixed a delicious egg sausage dish. It just needs to be warmed. Besides, a restaurant is not the proper place to discuss private things like the case you’re working on or the terrible ordeal you went through yesterday.”

  “You’re right. I guess we’re off to the Foley for breakfast then.”

  AFTER I HELPED MARGARET get the breakfast ready, including toast and coffee, the three of us dished up generous portions of warmed egg-sausage bake on our plates and carried them into the dining area to enjoy.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t get to partake of the delicious meal Margaret had prepared quite yet. I’d forgotten to collect the steamy dark morning refreshment the older women so dearly loved when I left the kitchen. So I traipsed back there to collect the coffee pot and filled their cups upon my return.

  “I suppose you’d like to hear about yesterday first,” I said to our hostess as I sat and picked up a knife to dip into the jar of strawberry jam sitting in front of me.

  Margaret nodded, continuing to chew as she did so.

  “Okay, but it’s going to be brief. The breakfast you prepared is too tempting.”

  “Go ahead and eat, dear, whenever the urge strikes. I don’t mind.”

  I took Margaret at her word, ate half of my toast first and then cleared my palate to speak. “I went to Marty’s yesterday.”

  Margaret rested her fork on her plate. “You mean the grocery store?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s right. Zoe mentioned she wanted to hunt down the sunglass thief. Did you catch him?”

  “I sure did.”

  Aunt Zoe stopped eating long enough to add what she knew. “Mary found him in the store. They had a scuffle. The manager called the police. And then she and the thief got hauled off to jail.”

  “Oh, my. You poor thing,” Margaret said, pressing her hands against her chest. “How many hours did they keep you behind bars, Mary?”

  “None,” I said, as I sampled the egg bake. “Matt�
�s police friend made sure of that.”

  “You’re lucky Matt has a good connection with the police in this area.”

  “I know. I hope he’ll continue to be as friendly with me when I ask him if he’s heard any new scuttlebutt concerning Don Hickleman’s death or Paul Mason’s. Of course, he may want me to offer what I’ve learned too.”

  “But what could you possibly tell him?” Aunt Zoe asked as she refilled Margaret’s and her cup with hot coffee.

  “When I found the body of Paul Mason with an unsigned note stuffed in his pocket, I began to secretly check time card signatures against the photo copy I’d made. Something I’m sure the police haven’t thought of. The note spoke of an arranged meeting place both knew of. But that’s not all. After the police questioned Anita and me, she confided that tension among the plant managers and higher ups had been brewing for years.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly been a busy bee at the plant,” Margaret said, as she scooted her chair out and collected the dirty dishes. “If you don’t mind my saying so, your sleuthing is equal to Miss Marple’s, dear. Too bad she’s a fictional character. She’d be extremely pleased with you.”

  I studied the light-green lace tablecloth covering the table. Receiving undue praise from Margaret was embarrassing. I didn’t deserve it. “The case is a long way from being solved,” I said. “A lot can happen before then.”

  ~41~

  Day 15

  “Aunt Zoe, have you seen my red sweatshirt? It’s not in the closet and I wanted to wear it to work.”

  She pulled her roller-covered head out of the morning newspaper where it had been buried ever since I got up, and removed her new wild-rose and plum reading glasses to get a better look at me. “I must’ve brought it up. I remember putting it in the wash load with the other clothes on Saturday. Have you looked in the front closet, yet? I might have stuck it in there.”