Calamity @ the Carwash (Parson's Cove Mysteries) (4 page)

Before she got outside, I ran to the
door. “A witness? Who’s the witness, Beth?”

She shrugged. “As I told you, Mabel, I
never get involved. Most of the time, I’m not even listening to him.” She
smiled. “I know Reg appreciates all the help you give him but I think he said
that this time he and the boys could solve it on their own.” She patted my arm.
“That I do remember hearing him saying.” Another smile and she was gone.

I turned to Flori. “Flori, did you hear
that? They have a witness.”

“Mabel, all I heard was Beth saying that
Reg and the boys could solve it on their own. Didn’t you hear that part?”

“Of course, I did. Reg always says that.
Weren’t
you
listening? There’s a witness. Do you think someone actually
saw Melanie hitting Bernie over the head with a brick?”

Flori blushed and looked down at her
empty coffee cup.

“You know something about it, don’t
you?” Flori is so easy to read. “What have you been keeping from me, my best
friend?”

Her face turned a brighter shade of
pink. “I’m really not keeping anything from you, Mabel. It’s only what Jake
heard at the café and I know you don’t trust anything that Jake says.”

“Okay, but I might trust what someone
else told him. So, what did her hear? Who’s this witness?”

“Oh, Mabel, you know I hate gossiping,
especially about murder. And, how do we know it’s even true? What if I tell you
something and it’s completely false, but you won’t know that so you’ll go
running to this person and they’ll get into trouble and then, you’ll come back
to me and I’ll be in trouble. It will end up being a big mess.”

“First of all, Flori, you love gossip.
Besides, we don’t know if the information is wrong. And, maybe, just maybe, I
won’t go to the person at all. Why are you jumping to conclusions like that?”

“First of all, Mabel, even if the
information is wrong, you
will
go to the person. I haven’t been your
friend for sixty years and not know that. Even if you knew that not a word of
it was true, you’d go.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of
that? Now, who was the witness and what did this witness, witness?”

Flori sighed. “Jake said they were
talking about it at the café. Apparently, Prunella Flowers says she saw Bernie
and Melanie having a big argument outside their car at the carwash and when
they saw her watching them from across the street, they disappeared to the back
of the carwash.”

“You mean behind the carwash? By the
lake?”     

Flori gave me a resigning look and
sighed. “Well, you know what’s behind the carwash – it’s the lake.”

“Prunella? The witness? I’m amazed she
even came forward. Can we really trust her, Flori?”

“Can
we
trust her? We, as in you
and me, do not have to worry about it at all. I’m sure if she saw Bernie and
Melanie arguing, she saw what she saw. End of story, Mabel.”

“But that doesn’t prove that Melanie
killed Bernie, does it? It just proves that they were arguing and were together
behind the carwash.”

“I have no idea. This is entirely up to
the police. They know more about it than we do and I’m sure they have lots more
information and clues.”

“Actually, Flori, I wasn’t asking for an
answer. That was sort of a rhetorical question.”

Flori stood up and took her cup and the
empty cinnamon bun pan into the back room to rinse out. It was almost noon now
and time for me to start for home too.

We went out the front door together but
before I headed in the opposite direction, she grabbed my arm and said, “Please
don’t get involved, Mabel. Don’t go to visit Prunella. Just once let’s have a
murder without the name Mabel and Flori being attached to it.”

I laughed. “You, my friend, are getting
carried away, as usual. If I have a few spare minutes after I feed the cats,
I’ll be going over to the nursing home to visit Dottie. She has some more socks
for me. I promise you, I will not be spending my lunch hour with Prunella.”

It’s hard to describe the look of relief
on Flori’s face. It almost made me feel guilty that I planned to visit Prunella
in the evening.

There was no way I could eat any lunch
after gorging myself on three of Flori’s buns but I did have to let the cats
back in the house. Sure enough, they were all standing on the step, waiting for
me. I let them in, filled their food dishes and water dishes and then I left
for the nursing home with a bag of books for Dottie.

There’s a large sign on the lawn that says
Parson’s Cove Restful Retirement Retreat. I guess someone wanted it to sound
like a luxury resort of some sort but the name doesn’t fool anyone. No one
forced to live there, feels like they’re in Cancun, Mexico. It was actually
quite an attractive building when it was built over forty years ago but I guess
with all the cutbacks and layoffs, there isn’t enough money to keep it
beautiful. Dottie says she counts her blessings because she has a place to
sleep at night. Dottie is one of those people who succeed in seeing good in
everything - sort of a very small wrinkled version of Flori.

Noon was a good time to visit with
Dottie because everyone was finished eating by then. They have breakfast at
seven, lunch at eleven and their dinner at four-thirty. Then, she told me, if
you’re still hungry, you could go into the small residents’ kitchen and make
yourself a sandwich before bed. It all sounded quite nice to me but she just
screwed up her face when I said that. I guess it all depends on if you like
stale bread with peanut butter before you go to sleep.

When I arrived she was already outside
sitting in a wooden lawn chair, soaking in some sun. At least with the cooler
temperature, a person could sit outside without burning to a crisp. There was a
breeze and the scent of lilacs and the buzz of some very large bees filled the
air. The lawn chairs at the Parson’s Cove Retirement Retreat are wooden, heavy
and huge. I’m not sure if that’s so they won’t blow away or because they don’t
want any of the residents throwing them at the staff. Dottie looked like a
small dot in that chair.

Her face lit up when she saw me. “Mabel,
you came for your socks.” Then she spotted the bag in my hand. “And you brought
some books for me.” She stood up and clapped her hands. People who find out
they’ve won the lottery couldn’t look any happier than Dottie does when she
sees a bag of books.

By this time, everyone who was sitting
outside was staring at us. Some were smiling and waving; others, scowling and
drooling. Mr. Dudley was yelling my name.

“Let’s get to your room before old
Dudley attacks me, Dottie,” I said. She grinned and I held her arm as we walked
to the front door. Sam Dudley had it in his head that visiting Dottie was my
excuse to see him. This obsession started a few weeks back but seemed to be
getting more intense. I really didn’t want to complain to the management but if
he got any more aggressive, I was thinking that I might have to. 

It was cool, semi-dark and pleasant in
Dottie’s cubbyhole of a room. There was only enough space for a few personal
items. What she did have, she had to guard with her life because a few of her
inmates were kleptomaniacs.

“So, what’s new, Dottie?” I asked after
she’d pulled my newly knitted socks from under her mattress. They were shaped
like a squash and were a mixture of orange, purple, green, and black. I would
never hurt her feelings but I doubted that anyone would steal any of the socks
or slippers that she made. I sat down on her only chair and she sat on the bed
facing me.

“There’s never anything much new here.
We’re supposed to make our monthly trip to the city tomorrow. Now, I hear they
want us to go every week. I can’t figure out why. The management is always
complaining about not having any money for trips or anything. Doesn’t make any
sense to me.”

“I haven’t heard anything about it. Do
you like going, Dottie?”

She shrugged. “Not so much anymore. It
used to be fun when they’d let us loose in the Mall but now, they drive to some
park, make us get out and sit and then we have to wait for the bus to come and
pick us up again. If I want to sit outside and look at the trees, I can do that
here.”

“You’re kidding, every week? Is Bill
Williams still driving you?”

She shook her head. “Not anymore. Now,
Calvin Koots drives us. I don’t know who drives his taxi when he’s with us.
Have you seen anyone driving it, Mabel?”

“You know, I do remember someone driving
it. He went past the store one morning and I wondered what he was doing in
Calvin’s taxi. You know who it was, Dottie?”

She shook her head. “I can’t read your
mind, Mabel.”

“Sorry but now it makes me feel a little
weird. It was Bernie.”

Dottie’s eyes popped open wide. “Bernie?
I heard he was dead, Mabel. Murdered. Is that really true?”

“I’m afraid so. Reg locked up Melanie
and charged her with his murder. Well, I imagine they’ll call it manslaughter.
They say she hit him on the head with a brick and then pushed him into the
lake.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that for one
minute, do you, Mabel?”

“Well, I do believe the brick and the
lake but that’s about all. I don’t think Melanie would do it either but
apparently Prunella saw them arguing just before Bernie was killed.”

“Since when does that prove murder? My
old man and I used to fight all the time. Good thing he died of natural causes
or I might’ve been charged.”

“Well, it sounds like Melanie would
inherit a large sum of money from an insurance policy that Bernie took out just
before he died.”

“That’s all circumstantial. I’ve read
enough books to know that.”

I glanced at the clock on the
nightstand. “Well, I’d better get moving. Have to open the shop in ten
minutes.”

Dottie turned the plastic bag upside
down and dumped the books on the bed. “Let me know how the murder investigation
goes,” she said, but before I could say anything except goodbye, she was
already beginning to read.

Flori stopped in about three. The cooler
temperature did wonders for her hair and personality. She was fairly bubbling
when she walked in. Her hair was bright, shiny and back to its slick new style.
She’d applied fresh makeup. Her lips were a soft coral and her artificially
arched eyebrows, a dark auburn.

“Hmmm, Flori,” I said. “You’re looking
as good as you smell this afternoon. Is that a new outfit?”

She was wearing a light turquoise and
coral flowered dress that came down almost to her ankles. It had an empire
waist with a very modest neckline. Hot pink earrings dangled all the way down
to her shoulders. It’s true she was wearing flip-flops on her feet but they
were such a dark turquoise that you hardly noticed that they were plastic.

“I’m so happy this dreadful heat has
come to an end that I felt like celebrating. We can even have a cup of coffee
without that loud old air conditioner on.”

“That’s true, and guess what? I have a
fresh pot on.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything over
to eat with it, Mabel.”

“Are you kidding? I can still taste
those wonderful cinnamon buns that I ate this morning.”

“You mean you haven’t eaten anything
since then?” She jumped up off the chair. “I’m going home right now and make
some ham and cheese sandwiches for you.”

I grabbed the full cup of coffee from
her hand and gently pushed her back down.

“No, you’re not. We’re going to sit and
have a visit.” I fixed my coffee and pulled a chair over to be closer. “I was
talking to Dottie at noon and she tells me that the seniors’ home is now taking
them into the city every week.”

Flori stared at me over her cup.
“Really? That’s lovely, isn’t it? I’m sure they appreciate it. I wish I could
go with them. I never get to shop over there. You know this new outfit, Mabel?
It came from the city but my daughter bought it for me.” She sighed. “I don’t
know why those girls of mine never ask me to go with them.” Tears welled up in
her eyes. “It really hurts sometimes. Did you know that?”

“I know it hurts. But some of it is your
own fault. Why do you always insist that they take me too? They don’t want me
hanging around with them. You have to go without me, Flori.”

“The thing is, Mabel, you need clothes
worse than I do. It would be nothing for you to get Delores to come in some
afternoon and we could go shopping.”

I looked down at my neatly pressed jeans
and white cotton shirt. Compared to Flori, I looked quite drab. On the other
hand, almost everyone looked drab beside Flori. She was scrutinizing me, too.

“You could use some color. Why do you
always insist on wearing non-colors, Mabel?”

“Non-colors? My jeans are blue. That’s a
color.”

Flori rolled her eyes. “I have an idea.
Why don’t we see if we can go with the folks from the seniors’ home? You know,
we could be like chaperones.”

“They don’t go shopping.”

“What do you mean? They always go
shopping. The bus drops them off at the mall and they shop till they drop.”