Dying for a Change (10 page)

“
It was really nice of you to take the time to come, Ellen. Mother’s in a bad way, and we still have to get through tomorrow.” She paused, reached into her apron pocket for a tissue, and daubed at her eyes before continuing. “My sister and I’ve been talking. We think it best if I take Mother home with me for a while. We’ve got some decisions to make, but none of us are thinking straight right now.” She swallowed hard. “You work with Sharon Harper, don’t you? Would you tell her I’ll call her in a week or so about Dad’s properties? I’d appreciate it, Ellen, and thanks again for coming.” She stuck out her hand; I placed mine in it, and quickly made my escape, my head and emotions in a whirl.

I climbed into my car, trying to sort out my thoughts. Vera Sawyer didn’t look or act like a murderer; her grief and shock were too genuine. Those poor people, I thought as I started the car, what a terrible thing to go through. But an unwilling idea crept into my mind. Vera couldn’t really have gone along all those years and believed him. Could she? She was pretty fierce about insisting Hank loved only her. Suppose, somehow, she had been forced to see the truth? Could she have confronted him Sunday afternoon, in that empty house? Finally lost her temper, thrown a brick at him, then, in a fit of desperation as he was lying there, dragged him — no, it didn’t seem possible. Still . . .

By this time I was back in town, passing the once familiar Emporium. Impulsively, I swung the wheel hard and pulled into one of the many empty parking spaces in front of it. Everyone kept talking about the Emporium and Benjamin. It was time I saw for myself.

Years ago the Emporium and J C Penny’s were the only places in town to shop. If they didn’t have it, you went without. The Emporium had some of everything. Clothes for all ages, housewares, hardware, even halters, lead ropes, calf nursing bottles, and, of course, rifles and ammunition. It also had one of those wonderful tube systems where the clerk put your money and sales slip in a round cylinder, pulled the rope, and, like magic, it flew up a cable to ladies sitting on a mezzanine, looking down on the lesser mortals below. They leisurely checked everything, put the change back into the tube, and -zip--back it came. Growing up, I thought that flying tube the most exciting thing I had ever seen, and the Emporium the most magnificent store anywhere.

I walked in, prepared for changes, but nevertheless looking for my magic tube and the ladies who sat serenely about us all. Instead, I found a tired old building, all its natural charm and dignity covered over with cheap plastic and artificial glitz. No more housewares, no more hardware, only a few racks of bad, discount quality clothes, at what appeared to be inflated prices. Hank had been right. Stop N Shop wouldn’t drive Benjamin out of business. He was doing just fine all by himself.

I wandered around, picking things up, putting them down, thinking someone would appear and offer me help me. Then I could ask for Benjamin. No one did. I kept sorting through the scanty selection, finally ending up with a package of socks in my hand.

“
Help you,” someone said from behind my back.

I whirled around to find a wispy little old lady looking at me disapprovingly through too large glasses.

“
Ah,” I said, feeling as guilty as though I had been caught stealing. “Do you have these in blue?”

“
No,” she said, and walked off.

Shopping at the Emporium was a real challenge.

“
Well, well, well, look who’s here. It’s little Ellen Page. Heard you’d come home.”

There was Benjamin, coming down the aisle toward me, thrusting his long, bony face toward mine. Amazing how little he’d changed. A little less hair, more sprinkles of gray, but still the same tall, stringy man with slightly stooped shoulders, the same prominent Adam’s apple, and the same pale eyes. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn he even had on the same clothes. Slightly baggy wash pants, plaid shirt open at the throat, an over large green cardigan sweater, never buttoned, that always seemed to be trying to catch up to him.

“
What’a you think of our new look, Ellen?” He made a great swoop of his arm, taking in the whole store. “Not the same store you knew as a kid, huh?” He looked around with pride. “Surprised?”

“
Oh, yes.” I could say that with all honesty. “Very surprised. My, it’s been a long time. How have you been?”

“
Just so so, Ellen.” he said, answering me literally. “Suppose you heard that Rose died. Been almost three years now.” He seemed a little lost, shook himself slightly and went on. “It was after that I did the store over. Needed something to distract me.” He forced a smile. “Hasn’t helped business, though. This town isn’t what it used to be. All the old families, like your folks, leavin’. New ones comin’, but they got no loyalty. All they do is complain.”

Yes, I thought as I looked around the store again, I could believe that.

“
I don’t know about folks anymore,” he went on. “Used to be, people’d be satisfied. Now, they keep goin’ on about bigger, better, more, want everythin’ new.”

“
New,” I repeated. “You mean like the new store that’s coming, Stop N Shop?”

“
We’ll see what’s comin’ and what’s not.” Benjamin actually hissed. I could see spittle fly out of his mouth. I stepped back. He didn’t seem to notice. “That crowd at City Hall, talkin’ about how it’d be good for the town. Baldersash! It’d put all us downtown people out of business, that’s what.”

“
Oh, well.” I took another step back and made my voice as noncommittal as I could. “Maybe not.”

“
Why, they want me to go to some fool class to learn to compete.” Benjamin ignored my weak comment. “Me! I’ve run this store for forty years, and my father before me. Don’t need no city boys telling me how to do it. It’s them new people trying to push this through, but I still got a trick or two up my sleeve. They’re in for a fight, let me tell you.”

Benjamin was getting more and more agitated, an angry flush working its way up his pasty white face. It was scary watching him. I tried to think of something to calm him down, but instead I blurted out, “Is that why you wanted Hank’s seat on the Planning Commission?”

The flush deepened. He’s going to have a stroke, I thought, and it’s all my fault. But Benjamin took a deep breath, the red turned to pink, and a sorrowful expression replaced his angry one.

“
Hank Sawyer was one of my best friends in the world,” he said. “I’m goin’ to be one of the pall bearers tomorrow, but I’ll never forget how he turned on us downtown people. He was a clear thinkin’ man on most things, but on this, I just couldn’t get him to see reason. It was greed. Pure and simple. Greed.”

“
Greed? What do you mean?”

“
Hank stood to make a bundle if that store came. Said he wouldn’t vote, but folks knew how he stood, and Hank had a lot of influence in this town. He woulda got his store. Now, we’ll see. You gonna pay me for those socks, Ellen?”

I gaped at Benjamin, handed him some money, took my package and my change, and fled.

I sat in the car, engine idling, trying to absorb what I had heard. Benjamin hadn’t admitted to murder, but he’d given himself a great motive. A better one than Tom’s, a better one than Ray’s, and way better than Dottie’s. Benjamin would benefit with Hank dead, or he thought he would, and he’d already gone after Hank once with a hammer. The thought made me queasy. Benjamin had given me lollipops when I was little; he’d talked my mother into letting me have high heels, sort of, for junior high graduation. He couldn’t be a cold-blooded killer. He just couldn’t!

I found myself staring at a shop a couple of doors down from the Emporium. There was something familiar about it, but what? Of course, it was Mom and Pop’s Ice Cream Store. The best hot fudge sundaes anywhere, real strawberry sodas, and homemade berry pie with vanilla ice cream. We used to walk down here with my parents on hot summer nights and bring home wonderful treats that we’d eat sitting on the steps of our front porch. Only this sign didn’t say “Mom and Pop’s.” It said, “Skinny Haven, nonfat frozen yogurt.”

Wouldn’t you know? I banged my hand on the wheel. Savagely, I pushed the gearshift into reverse, muttering to myself, “Why did I come back to this stupid town anyway?”

I’d intended to find Pat Bennington. I wanted to ask her what had really gone on, if anything, between Dottie and Hank, but after Vera and Benjamin I was emotionally wrung out. I couldn’t face anyone else, especially as I had no idea how to ask the question I wanted answered. It really was none of my business what Dottie did, but Hank’s dead body kept reappearing. Discovering who’d killed him and left him in that closet for me to find, felt personal. Besides, I didn’t like the idea I might be working with a murderer.

I paused at the corner. Left meant home, quiet, solace, dinner, a glass of wine, aspirin. I turned right.

The Little Playhouse is a pretty prestigious name for a company who performs in a not very prestigious location. They rent the old stage and a back room in the American Legion Hall, and use the new auditorium (built in nineteen seventy five) for rehearsals and performances. They share the building with the county health department, assorted charities, a parks and recreation ballet class in the afternoon and soft aerobics in the morning. The auditorium gets used for all kinds of functions; auctions, church groups, 4-H meetings. The building is usually open, as one of the groups that use it is doing something. If no one from The Little Playhouse was there, someone would be, and I could find out when, and where, to find Pat.

I found the back door slightly ajar, pushed it open, and walked in. Two women, their backs to me, were doing something with what looked like scenery. The younger one I had never seen before. The older one was Pat.

“
Hi,” I said.

“
Ellen.” Pat stuck the paintbrush she’d been using back in a can. “This is a surprise. I could have sworn you weren’t interested in our group.” She laughed, a genuinely pleased laugh, wiped her hand on an old rag, and walked toward me. “This is Tina Morgan,” she went on, gesturing toward the girl, “Who is letting red paint drip on what should be blue sky. Watch out, Tina, you’re ruining the sunset.”

“
Oh. Sorry.” The girl didn’t do anything about the red blob, but she did put the paintbrush down. “Say, aren’t you the one who found Hank Sawyer the other day? “

I nodded, admitting I was indeed the one, and took a second look at Tina. She’d probably started off pretty, but somewhere along the way she developed a Madonna look alike complex. Or maybe Lady GaGa. No. Her breasts weren’t pointed enough. Very bleached hair, light brown eyes so circled with makeup a raccoon would have fainted with envy, eyelashes coated thick with mascara, and a bright red mouth. Her tee shirt was the stretch kind that doesn’t quit reach the waist, but her jeans were so tight she couldn’t have tucked anything in anyway. I was fascinated, and almost missed the rest of Pat’s introduction.

“
Tina was in the drama club all through high school.” Pat’s voice and eyes both showed amusement as I continued to stare at Tina. “She’s majoring in design at Arlington Community College, and helps us with scenery and costumes. She’s very talented.”

Yeah, but at what? I thought. I said, “I’m sure she is.”

“
I read about it in the paper.” Tina ignored my scrutiny and stared at me just as intently. “They said his head was bashed in and there was blood everywhere. Is that true?”

I admitted it was.

“
Weren’t you scared?” Tina’s voice tinged with awe. “I woulda been. Suppose the murderer had come back?”

“
I was terrified.” Bless the child; she had provided me with the opening I needed. “Especially after I recognized him. Poor Hank. It must be awful for all of you, too. He was a member of the Little Playhouse, wasn’t he?”

My innocent seeming question wasn’t fooling Pat, who looked at me with one eyebrow raised, but Tina was ready to tell all.

“
Oh, yes, and we’re all going to miss him. Hank was so much fun.” She paused, and took a deep breath. Little tears formed, and I thought about handing her a tissue, but was afraid it would get stuck on one of her gooey lashes. “I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Tina went on. “Why, just last week, he stayed late to help me paint scenery.” She thought about that for a minute, then gave a soft giggle.

Pat looked chagrined. “A first, I’m sure.”

Tina said, “Huh?”

I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I wanted to laugh, but that wouldn’t keep the conversation going, “Hank seems to have had quite a reputation. Was it...”

“
Deserved?” Pat asked, a little sharply.

“
Look, I’m not trying to pry,” I said, trying to sound reasonable, “but Aunt Mary said something, and I work with Dottie, and, well, I thought...”

I was having trouble finishing a sentence, but it didn’t matter, because Tina jumped right in. “Hank and Dottie sure were seeing a lot of each other lately. That was kinda strange. She doesn’t seem his type.”

“
Hank was married. He wasn’t supposed to have a type.”

Tina looked at Pat pityingly. “Dottie sure seemed to like all that attention. Did you know Hank took her home the other night?”

“
Yes.” Pat and I answered together.

“
Did you know he was sitting with her at the bar in the bowling alley? He bought her a drink. They had their heads together, whispering and talking real serious Come to think of it, Dottie didn’t look so happy that night.”