“You have got to see this,” he said enthusiastically.
38
“Rumour is, Vernon Cross is gay,” Myrtle said as she wriggled in her cushy chair to get comfortable. She was knitting on the same deep purple scarf she had worked on during their last few meetings. The scarf was now over four feet long and getting longer still.
“Who?” Ester asked. She sat across from Myrtle in a La-Z-Boy, knitting a deformed sweater.
In a last-minute debate, the ladies of the Naughty Knitters Club had decided to hold their meeting in a room ordinarily reserved for reading and other such quiet activities at the Magnolia Wellness Centre. The plush furniture was Ester’s idea, as those old padded wooden chairs in the meeting room always made her artificial hip ache and put her butt to sleep.
“You know, the owner of the meat market,” Geraldine said, while knitting squares for a blanket for one of her grandchildren.
“He’s married to that Sadie Cross woman,” Emma added as she unravelled some yarn. “She’s a suspect in the Charlie Baker murder investigation, you know.”
“Oh, shush,” Mavis said. “Ever since those detectives gave you their cards, you think you’re Agatha Christie or something.”
“Or that writer lady who solved murders,” Myrtle added with a smile and a wink. “That Murphy Brown lady.”
“You idiot,” Agatha groused. “You mean Jessica Fletcher. That Murder She Wrote woman who saw more death than the Grim Reaper.”
“I love that show,” Myrtle blurted.
“Who?” Ester asked?
“Well, she was sleeping with Charlie Baker,” Emma said. “I know, I seen her car there many times.”
“That doesn’t mean she killed him,” Geraldine said. “Just means she was horny, and if Vernon is gay he probably wasn’t giving her any.”
“I never said she did it,” Emma said with a smile. “I just said she’s a suspect.”
“Well,” Myrtle added, “whether she did it or not doesn’t change the fact that people are saying Vernon is gay.”
“I heard it, too,” Agatha said with a smile. “I heard he really loves his sausages.”
Laughter erupted in the room as the ladies busied themselves with their knitting.
“Those are just rumours,” Geraldine said. “Although I’m told someone saw him going into a motel with some guy.”
“I heard he was caught in his car on a back road on the outskirts of town,” Agatha added.
“Who cares what he puts in his mouth,” Myrtle said. “Did you ladies hear about all the videos Charlie had? Home movies of him having sex.”
“Get out!” Mavis exclaimed as she set down her knitting to pay attention.
“Who?” Ester asked.
Emma set down her knitting and got up and walked over to Ester. She turned up the volume on Ester’s hearing aid, knowing full well the batteries were weak again.
“Thank you,” Geraldine said as she rolled her eyes.
“What videos?” Emma asked. “Nobody told me anything about videos.”
“Rumour is that ever since the murder, Calvin Crawford has been watching videos of Charlie Baker having sex,” Myrtle said. She smiled and looked around to see reactions to this juicy bit of gossip she had been saving up for this meeting.
“Get out!” Mavis exclaimed, flushing with jealousy at the idea that Myrtle would have the juiciest gossip of the evening.
“Having sex with who?” Ester asked.
“Everyone, from what I hear,” Myrtle said as she tried to suppress her glee.
“That can’t be true. Not in my apartment building,” Agatha stated as her face flushed. She hid what she knew well. A feeling of panic arose in her about the peephole. Would word get out? She couldn’t help but wonder. Would gossip spread more than it already had? Surely her friends would tell her. Of course they would, and they would tease her endlessly.
Emma laughed at Agatha’s sudden discomfort, knowing full well she must have known since she lived in the apartment next to Charlie Baker’s.
“They say they found cameras everywhere,” Myrtle added, who had stopped knitting as she spoke. “I heard that’s why Sadie and that Stella woman were fighting at the grocery store.”
Agatha swallowed hard and felt her anxiety level rise. She felt a panic attack coming on but managed to suppress it.
“Oh, don’t get me started on that again,” Geraldine blurted, who was more than glad to talk about the altercation at the Food Emporium, although she pretended she didn’t want to. She often put up this act, as being the wife of a pastor she had to at least pretend to be a respectable lady; a respectable lady who takes part in a group therapy session for sexual addiction with other ladies who happen to knit while in session. Knit and gossip.
“Gummy bears everywhere,” Geraldine said. “I thought I was going to die. Those women are bat-shit crazy, I tell you.”
“Never mind that,” Mavis said, looking at Myrtle. “I wanna hear more about those videos.”
“I’m hoping they end up on the internet,” Myrtle said as her face flushed. “I’d love to see those.”
“I bet you would,” Emma replied, laughing at her own comment. “Rumour is that comedian Lucy Shaffer is one of the women in them.”
Agatha and Mavis gasped simultaneously at that comment.
“Are we ever going to do any therapy tonight?” Myrtle asked with a pout as she knitted furiously.
“You just want to brag about one of your booty calls,” Ester said with a smile.
“Oh, shush,” Emma replied. “I wanna hear this one. Was it that young one you mentioned last time? The one with the big lump in his crotch who liked older women?”
39
Calvin sat at his desk in the tech lab, a can of Red Bull sitting next to a prescription bottle of anxiety medication. He was starting to dread coming into work and barely sleeping at night. He had never been this sexually frustrated in his life, and the worst part about it was that everybody knew it. Being a porn addict he had thought it amazing at first to get to watch some of it on the job, but that quickly lost its appeal. At home, he had his favourite websites and all the privacy in the world. The stress of it all was getting to him, but he couldn’t let anyone know, as they would never let him live it down. The merciless teasing was already rampant and knowing the effect it was having would only make it worse.
Today, waiting for him on his desk was a large can of Red Bull, an open box of tissues, lube, and the evidence bag of Viagra. The energy drink he had cracked open right away and took a large gulp before even sitting down at his desk. The clear plastic bag containing the Viagra and the other items he pushed aside. He’d put that away later, he thought as he adjusted his man parts, noticing how sore his masturbating arm was. He opened the side drawer on his desk and pulled out a brochure while he looked about in paranoia to be sure nobody would see him. He unfolded it, revealing a serene-looking landscape with black print over it.
Magnolia Wellness and Rehabilitation Centre
Are addictions holding you back, hurting those you love and affecting your career? Do you suffer from an addiction to drugs, alcohol, or sex? The dedicated and highly-trained staff at the Magnolia Wellness and Rehabilitation Centre are here to help you get your life back on track.
Our services include counselling with licensed therapists and access to amazing support groups. All of this is provided while staying at the serene and relaxing Magnolia estate, which is nestled on the outskirts of the small and beautiful city of Poplar Falls, filled with small-town charm and surrounded by the relaxing splendor of rivers and picturesque waterfalls.
Come stay a while and let us help you.
Stella P. Rubbin
Magnolia Wellness and Rehabilitation Centre Manager
He needed help and he knew it. His porn addiction had been manageable in the past but now he felt
it spinning out of control. He would need to check their website, but he didn’t dare do it while at work. He couldn’t risk anyone finding out if he wanted to continue working in Poplar Falls.
Hearing the door to the lab open, he quickly put the brochure back where he had gotten it and swept the pill bottle into the drawer as well, slamming it shut harder than he would have liked. He turned to see Lemkie, who clearly had no reason to be in the lab but was pretending he did, so he could check on Calvin and the gag items they’d placed on his desk.
“What?” Calvin barked.
“Captain was just asking if we had any information. Any leads. Apparently, he says Dodge and Tilley are busy interviewing women, so he asked me to check into it.” Even though he tried to make this sound convincing, Calvin knew this was horse shit. The look on Lemkie’s face said so.
“Tell the captain I’m working on it and that he’s welcome to help if he really wants to.”
“Naw, I’m pretty sure it’s okay,” Lemkie replied with a grin.
“I thought so.”
“Some of the officers and I are going to lunch later; they said to ask if you wanted to join us. You in?” Lemkie asked.
“No thanks,” Calvin replied, who knew this would end up with them poking fun at his task at hand. “I’m not hungry. Plus, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Living the dream, huh?” Lemkie asked, in a half-question, half-comment tone.
“Are you serious?” Calvin asked. “What does that even mean? Living what dream? Whose dream is this? TELL ME. I want to know.”
Lemkie picked up a stapler from a table, pretending he needed it and spun around, heading back the way he had come in.
“Wait… what dream? Whose dream? What the…” Calvin exclaimed. He didn’t have to finish what he was saying, as Lemkie had left the room. Probably telling everyone about him getting upset, he thought. That’s when his stomach churned and he remembered being told to take the pills with food. He barely had time to spin his chair away from his desk, hoping to find an empty evidence bag nearby, but vomiting on the floor instead. Thoughts of the dozens of videos still left to watch made his stomach churn.
A sound of incoming email had Calvin mousing his way to his inbox to see an email from Tilley.
“Any news on those vids yet?” the email read.
Calvin’s stomach lurched and he vomited yet again.
40
Dodge parked his rusty Ford Escape in the parking lot of Elder’s Funeral Parlor and took his fresh hot coffee from the cup holder. Detective Tilley sat in the passenger seat, holding her own coffee cup by its rims to avoid burning her fingers. With the windows down, parked facing the street, both detectives sat quietly sipping out of cardboard cups bearing the Jabba-da-Java Coffee Hut logo. Dodge had asked Tilley to get out of the office for coffee so they could brainstorm. But Tilley had gotten to know her partner fairly well and so she felt something was off. She didn’t know him well enough to know what, just that something was off with him. Dodge sipped his coffee and finally broke the silence.
“You know, romance is dead,” Dodge said. “With today’s age of porn, erotica, hook-up websites, etc., romance is dead.”
“Is there booze in that cup?” Tilley asked jokingly. “Bailey’s in your coffee?”
“I mean, men think its okay to text pictures of their dicks to women,” Dodge replied, ignoring Tilley’s joke. “Somehow men think this is okay and that it will actually turn a woman on.”
Tilley smiled as she sipped her coffee. She had been thinking about Stella’s trip to the morgue. Normal people don’t do such a thing. Stella was still obsessing about Charlie Baker, long after he was found murdered. Plus, she had started drinking again. Tilley was tempted to bet on Stella being the killer, but she couldn’t do such a thing. A wager on a case like this could have serious repercussions if word ever got out. She had tried to tell her fellow officers that pools like this shouldn’t happen, but she suspected many of the patrolmen already had one going. The captain would lose it if he found out.
“I’m sure there are still plenty of romantic men out there,” Tilley replied.
“Some,” Dodge replied, “sure, but not many.”
“Have you ever?” Tilley asked.
“What?” Dodge asked.
“Texted a woman a picture of your junk?”
“Hell no!” Dodge exclaimed in disbelief. “I can’t believe you had to ask.”
Tilley smiled as she sipped the coffee. Soon they were sitting in an awkward silence again. Dodge eventually straightened himself in his seat as he adjusted his rear-view mirror.
“Remember when you asked me about the fingerprints on the laptop?” Dodge asked as he shot a glance at Tilley and then back to the rear-view mirror.
“The Panty Bandit’s fingerprints? How could I forget about that?”
“I know why he stopped breaking into houses and stealing women’s underwear,” Dodge replied.
Before Tilley could reply, Dodge pointed to the passenger side of the vehicle. Tilley turned to watch as Walter pedaled his tricycle and wagon past them, hauling his usual load of recyclables. Walter’s pants looked three sizes too big and appeared to not have been washed in who knows how long. The pants were held up by an old belt which looked to be cinched tight. Walter looked their way as he pedaled past the truck and smiled his best, scruffy-looking smile. His teeth were yellow and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while, although Walter couldn’t have grown a beard if his life depended on it.
“Wednesday,” Walter said as he biked past them. “Wednesday,” he repeated as he turned his tricycle into the street and went on his way.
“Holy crap,” Tilley whispered.
“I know,” Dodge replied.
If Walter really was the Panty Bandit then his days of stealing women’s underwear had to be over, thought Tilley. Or would they be? She glanced at her partner and then back at the frail-looking young man pedaling away. The first phase of learning an unbelievable truth was denial; a refusal to accept it as fact. Walter had been a quiet young man before the tumour. Not the smartest of kids and very dedicated to his mother, the only real family he had in this city. Her disability pension meant they struggled, but Walter had been a dedicated son. Tilley couldn’t fathom how it was possible for this young man to have been the Panty Bandit all this time. Of course, those days were over, she thought. Or was this Dodge pulling her leg?
“Are you serious?” Tilley asked. “Or are you messing with me?”
“I sure do wish he could still talk,” Dodge replied. “I saw his tricycle outside the Food Emporium, and right there in the front basket was the laptop. I’d love to know where he got it.”
“He gave it to you?”
“I took it while he was still inside,” Dodge replied.
“Did he see you?”
“I don’t think so,” Dodge replied as he sipped his coffee. He glanced at Tilley, trying to read her expression to see how she felt about all this. She looked to be filled with confusion and disbelief. He knew she would have trouble with this, which is one reason he hadn’t told her right away. The other reason was that he simply took the laptop from Walter’s tricycle and wasn’t sure if anyone had seen him. It would most likely be on the Food Emporium’s surveillance camera footage. And then there was Walter. Simple Walter, whose vocabulary now consisted mostly of the days of the week. Brain damage was a bitch, thought Dodge. But, then again, was she? When you thought about it, Walter wasn’t an innocent young man after all. Perhaps this was poetic justice for his crimes. Okay, he had never committed any sexual assault, but he instilled fear in a good part of the community. Especially the women of Poplar Falls. And knowing that his motor skills were now impaired meant those days were over, thought Dodge. But the community didn’t know this, and most people assumed the Panty Bandit would strike again someday. Most people believed it was only
a matter of time.
“I watched him leave after I took it,” Dodge said. “He looked like he forgot it was there in the first place.”
“Did anyone see you?” Tilley asked.
“Not that I know of,” Dodge replied. “Although I was a little worried after watching the brawl at the Food Emporium on YouTube. I figured if someone watched the security footage they might have seen me taking it.”
“True,” Tilley replied.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on Walter since Lemkie found his prints on the laptop,” Dodge replied. “I wanted to go talk to his mother, but I’m not sure how to go about it without making her ask why.”
“You’re assuming she doesn’t already know,” his partner replied, in true Detective Tilley fashion. “Some mothers are all-seeing.” Tilley thought of her own mother as she said this.
Dodge shot his partner a glance that told Tilley he had not considered this as a possibility.
“You think he would ever do it again?” Tilley asked.
“I doubt it,” Dodge replied. “He can barely function now and can hardly speak, so, how could he?”
“Have you told anyone?”
“Just you,” Dodge replied. “I mean, I want to, but what will that accomplish?”
“It would close the case, for one thing,” Tilley replied as she finished her coffee but kept the cup to busy her hands. “And stop women from wondering if the Panty Bandit will strike again.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I can’t see that happening.”
Poplar Falls Page 11