Janet McNulty - Mellow Summers 03 - An Apple a Day Keeps Murder Away (6 page)

“Disappeared?” quizzed Aunt Ethel.
“Where did you go?”

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“Mel doesn’t remember,” said Jackie, “She’s been trying but nothing comes. But she was found covered in blood and with a knife in her hand. Mr. Harrow, the District Attorney, is convinced that she murdered someone and hid the body somewhere. Her lawyer got her out of jail for now. But if a body shows up, she’s going back on a murder charge.”

If my situation looked grim before, Jackie just made it look worse.
She didn’t mean too. She was only telling my aunt the truth. About time it came, I guess. I had no idea how much longer I could have hidden it. Though, telling my aunt the truth did have its drawbacks.

“This is preposterous,” yelled my aunt.
“Of course Mellow didn’t kill anyone. She’s too nice. She’d never do it.” Her shouting earned her a few odd looks from people walking past. Others hurried by when she uttered the word “kill”.

“We’re going straight to that Mr. Harrow’s office right now,” continued Aunt Ethel.

“Aunt—no,” I said. “That’s not a good idea.”

“But you are innocent,” said my aunt.
“Now where is his office?”

“Check the county courthouse,” said Rachel as she materialized.
My aunt heard her voice, but couldn’t see her so she attributed it to Jackie.

“Come along, Mellow,” she said pulling me along with her.
We went to the local courthouse, which wasn’t far. My aunt led the way leaving Jackie and I little choice but to follow.

I tried to prevent my aunt from storming into the courthouse.
For an old lady she had a grip. Her hand held onto my arm as she dragged me inside, up the stairs, and to Mr. Harrow’s office. I suddenly wished she hadn’t known how to read a directory. He might as well have painted a sign that read, “Come beat me up.”

“Aunt Ethel, I really think this is a bad idea,” I said.

“Nonsense,” said Aunt Ethel. “No one accuses my Mellow of murder and gets away with it.”

Her Mellow?
That was a new one. In all the years I had known my aunt, not once did she use the term
my Mellow
. Her sudden overprotectiveness unnerved me.

Aunt Ethel found Mr.
Harrow’s office with ease with Jackie and me in tow. Rachel followed behind laughing her butt off. To her the entire incident was hysterical and entertaining. We must have looked like a montage group of misfits out for blood.

Aunt Ethel charged in
to Mr. Harrow’s office with a determined look on her face.

“What is the meaning of this?”
He dropped a folder from his hands. The annoyance in his voice was unmistakable.

“What do you mean accusing my niece of murder?”

We must have been quite the sight with Jackie trying to pretend she didn’t exist, a red faced old lady, and me desperately trying to get away. My aunt finally released my arm. I rubbed it furiously to restart the blood flow.

“Miss Summers,” said Mr. Harrow recognizing me, “Did you bring your aunt to do your dirty work?
I thought you had a lawyer for that.”

A loud smack filled the room.
Mr. Harrow clutched a hand to his face where a red mark now rested.

“How dare you speak to her and me like that,” shouted my aunt.
This was a side of her I had never seen before. “Mellow could not hurt a fly and for you to accuse her of murder is ridiculous. Why aren’t you or the police trying to find out what happened to her when she was missing?”

“Your niece was found covered in blood.
A lot of blood. And she seems to have conveniently lost her memory,” replied Mr. Harrow.

“There is nothing convenient about memory loss,” said Aunt Ethel.

“Miss—”

“Mrs. Wimsy.”

“Mrs. Wimsy,” continued Mr. Harrow, “I suggest you leave and save your comments for your lawyer.”

“Did I ever mention how
much that guy gets on my nerves?” said Rachel so that only I could hear her.

“Rachel, why did you tell her where to find him?”
I asked.

“Because I thought it would be interesting.
Besides, you might want your aunt on your side.”

“But she smacked him.”

“Great wasn’t it?” Rachel chuckled to herself.

“You can’t keep doing things like this.
It isn’t exactly going to help my case.”

“You’re right about that,” said Mr. Harrow.
He and my aunt both stared at me like I was nuts.

I had forgotten that they couldn’t see Rachel.
Only Jackie seemed uninterested since she knew about spirits.

“If you are thinking of trying
for the insanity plea,” said Mr. Harrow, “It won’t work.”

“I—”

“Now get out. All of you.”

Instantly, I ran out into the hall with Jackie.
Aunt Ethel chose to show more dignity. She snatched her purse, gave Mr. Harrow a sharp look, and elegantly strolled out the door.

“Mellow dear,” said Aunt Ethel when we exited the building, “Are you all right?”

“Why do you ask,” I said.

She glared at me with the “you know what I mean” look.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said.

“
Tell, Mellow,” insisted Aunt Ethel.

“I can talk to ghost
s,” I said.

The expression on my aunt’s face said it all.
She didn’t believe me. I couldn’t blame her. Even I found it difficult to believe at times.

“And when did this all begin?” she asked.

“It all started almost a year ago when Mel and I moved out here,” said Jackie.

I shot her a look.

“What? She wanted to know,” said Jackie.

“And you have been talking to ghosts since?” asked my aunt.

“Yes,” I replied. “You don’t believe me.” I stalked off.

“Well, it is a little hard to believe,” said Aunt Ethel, “
There aren’t any such things as ghosts.”

I gave up on her.
For a fleeting moment in Mr. Harrow’s office I had a new found respect for her, but now that had passed. I walked down the street in frustration.

Jackie grabbed my arm and pulled me to a halt.
She pointed at a sign that read, “Free psychic reading. Today only.”

“We should go in there,” she said.

Aunt Ethel pursed her lips.

“Yeah, whatever,” I replied.

We followed Jackie inside the small shop. I almost gasped at who greeted us. “Hello there,” said Rachel. She had decided to make herself visible to everyone and donned a gypsy outfit. She even spoke in a fake Jamaican accent.

I bit my tongue to keep from demanding to know what she was up to.

“Come in. Come in,” encouraged Rachel. She sat by a table with a crystal ball. The entire set up was so clichéd I didn’t know what to think.

Jackie went over to the table unsure at first.
She quickly regained her composure and took a seat. I remained standing.

Aunt Ethel took a seat not wanting to be rude.

“You do not believe in ghosts,” said Rachel.

Could this get any
more ridiculous?

“Tell me something I don’t know,” said Aunt Ethel.

“Ghosts are real.”

Aunt Ethel scoffed.

“They are,” insisted Rachel. She dematerialized. Aunt Ethel’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. She reappeared right next to my aunt. “They’re as real as you and me.” Then she vanished.

I had to hand it to her.
Rachel had a way of getting her point across. I didn’t know if Aunt Ethel bought it or not. She spent several minutes looking around for any proof that it was all a show. But nothing was there.

“Well,” said Aunt Ethel conceding that she might have been wrong, “You might be telling the truth.
Might.”

That was
as close as she was going to get to admitting that I was right.

“Shall we go?
” I said.

When we left the shop I pulled Jackie aside.
“You planned this didn’t you?”

Jackie smiled devilishly.
“We both did. With Aunt Ethel on board, maybe she can help us learn what happened to you.”

“Where to next?” asked Jackie.

“The police station,” replied Aunt Ethel. “You said that the detective working on the case believes you are innocent. I want to speak with him.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said.

“Of course it is, darling,” said Aunt Ethel.

“I am going home,” I said.
I suddenly felt tired and wished to just flop on the couch with the TV remote in my hand.

“But you can’t go home, yet,” said Aunt Ethel.

“I am,” I said. “You and Jackie can have the car.”

I left them on the sidewalk and called Greg.
He answered on the first ring. Within moments he pulled up in his car and took me home. I must say that I think I snared a keeper when I went out with him.

Instead of going into Jackie and I’s place, we went into his apartment.
He put me on the couch with the TV guide and remote. I swear he could read my thoughts.

“Lunch coming up,” he said.

I flipped on the TV. Mostly, there were only soap operas on. I detested soap operas. Luckily, I found an old Western and left the TV set there.

“Here you are, my lady,” said Greg handing me a plate full of food.

“Carrot sticks and oatmeal,” I said. “Interesting choice.”

“I haven’t been shopping in a while and I thought I’d leave your neighbor alone.”

“I need to talk to Tiny about that. Poor guy is probably getting ready to move out.”

I dug into my food as Greg and I snuggled on the couch.
He had taken the rest of the day off which suited me just fine. After all that had been going on, I just wanted to relax with my boyfriend.

Relaxation wasn’t in the cards.
After about four hours of peace, Aunt Ethel burst through the door dressed in an outfit I never wanted to see her in again. Imagine an old lady wearing purple spandex with pearl earrings and a decorative scarf around her neck. Though not fat by any means, Aunt Ethel was not exactly skinny either. Her outfit illustrated every bulge and padding that she carried. She had a yoga mat under one arm and an eighties boom box under the other. 

“Aunt Ethel,
what is this?” I asked.

“Move the couch,” she said.

“Why?”

“Come on,” said Aunt Ethel. “No time to waste. Clear this floor.” She dropped her items and proceeded to maneuver the couch to the side of the room. Greg helped her when she started to turn red from exertion. “Oh, thank you, dear,” she said.

Whap!
Aunt Ethel unfolded her yoga mat in one swift shake and spread it on the now clear floor. She placed herself on the oversized mat. “Come on,” she said.

Greg and I joined her.

“Jackie!”

My aunt’s shrill voice carried across the hall and into my apartment. Slowly, Jackie peeked into Greg’s place. She walked in with one agonizingly slow step after another. At first I wondered why she seemed embarrassed to come in. I soon learned why. She wore an outfit that matched Aunt Ethel’s. Purple spandex with daisies on it.

Quickly, I covered my mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.

Jackie glared at me. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Clearly, she hated it. Aunt Ethel had to be the only reason why she wore it.

“Oh, come
in, Jackie,” quipped my aunt.

Jackie took her spot in the room.
I elbowed Greg before he could open his mouth.

“Aunt Ethel,” I said, “What is going on here?”

“Meditative yoga,” she replied. “This might help you with your amnesia.”

“I really—”

“Come on,” interrupted my aunt, “Arms up. Stretch high and touch your toes.”

My back cracked as I bent over.
Instantly, I realized how out of shape I had gotten. Aunt Ethel had no difficulty touching her red painted toes. I barely made it past my knees. Jackie and Greg didn’t fare any better.

“I am never shopping with your aunt again,” Jackie whispered to me.

“What happened?” I asked.

“We got thrown out of the police station when she marched in there and chewed out Detective Shorts.
Then she got caught going through their files. Afterward, she took me shopping saying that you wanted us to bond.”

A guilty expression must have crossed my face because Jackie grew irritated.

“You did tell her that, didn’t you,” said Jackie.

“I only told her that I wanted her to be nice to you,” I said.

“I am so going to get you for this,” hissed Jackie.

“No talking,” interrupted Aunt Ethel.
“You should all be meditating. Especially you, Mellow dear.”

Once again, I attempted to reach my toes.
No success. How pathetic could I get? Out done by an old lady.

“You are much too tense, dear,” said Aunt Ethel.
She moved over to me and put her arms around my shoulders grasping them. “You need to be more flexible. Try this.”

Next thing I knew, Aunt Ethel swung me in a direction and
I felt a searing pain in my side. I could have sworn I had not only pulled something, but probably threw something as well.

“We’ll have to work on your flexibility,” said Aunt Ethel leaving me alone.

Rachel’s cackling filled my ears.
She sat poised on Greg’s entertainment set making certain that only I could hear her. I glowered at her.

Unfortunately, I never achieved a meditative state.
If anything, all I achieved was a bunch of aches and pains. Twenty minutes later, I felt like I had been hit by a truck and then forced into a pretzel position.

“That will do for now,” said Aunt Ethel ending the yoga session.
“Anything?”

I shook my head at her.

Aunt Ethel’s expression fell.
She had thought her plan would work. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to move to plan B.”

Plan B?
This was plan A? There better not be a plan C.

“And what is plan B?” I asked her.

“Let me change and I will meet you at the car,” she replied, “I’m driving.”

At those words Jackie snatched Greg and pulled him from the room.
“We’re going to go do some snooping on our own. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”

“But—,” began Greg.

“You don’t want to be in the car with that woman driving,” Jackie hissed in his ear as she hauled him out of his own apartment.

Stuck
once more with my aunt.

“That was a stop sign,” I screamed at my aunt as we careened down the road at 50 mph.

“Was it?
I hardly noticed.”

For the past hour we had been driving around town.
Well, mostly my aunt had been plowing the missile of a car wherever she pleased while I hung on for dear life.

We had started at the blood bank, since that was where we had first taken her.
Then we drove down every side street in town. Aunt Ethel had made a map of places she thought I might have gone to during my disappearance, ending at the motel where I was found. There was no logic to her assessments. At least, it was only logical to her.

She had drawn everything on a piece a paper.
When she handed it to me, I took one quick glance, crumpled it up and tossed it in the back seat. The entire piece of paper was nothing more than a jumble of lines and words in her horribly small handwriting.

“Stop light,” I yelled.
I tightened the seat belt in what could very well be my coffin.

“Oh, those don’t mean anything,” sung Aunt Ethel, “Their mostly optional.”

Optional? Someone help me, please. I prayed to whatever god in the universe felt sympathetic to my plight.

The car weaved in and out of lanes as my aunt twisted and turned the wheel like one would at the arcade.
Suddenly, she jerked the wheel causing the car to do a high speed U-turn. I could imagine what my face looked like as I cringed expecting to hit something at any moment.

We shot down the street before she slammed on the brak
es. My aunt did a sharp, right turn onto an alley full of garbage cans. She might have even squashed a few.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Oh don’t worry, dear, I have it all worked out.”

Aunt Ethel hummed merrily t
o herself as she squealed the tires, doing another right on the main road. She gunned the engine, blowing black smoke out the exhaust. Next thing I knew, we barreled our way through traffic.

“Stop.
Stop! STOP!”

Aunt Ethel hit the brakes bringing the car to a halt just before she ran another red light.
“Why were you yelling, dear?”

“Red light.”
I pointed at the traffic light ahead of us.

“Hey, lady,” yelled the guy driving the car next to us, “Where the hell did you get your license?”

“Oh, my license was revoked years ago,” replied my aunt with an innocent smile. “You don’t really need one. Driving isn’t that difficult. Just point the car and go.”

The man’s face went white.
He hit the accelerator and sped off despite the fact that the light remained red.

I stared at her.
“Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”
The light changed green. Instantly, I felt myself squeezed into the back of my seat as Aunt Ethel hit the gas and zoomed off.

I prayed for a cop to pull us over.
No such luck. Why is it when you really want there to be a cop, there isn’t one?

“Oh, poo
h. A traffic jam,” said my Aunt. She jerked the wheel again pulling the car onto the sidewalk.

“Driving on the sidewalk is illegal,” I screamed.
“There are people there!”

“Don’t worry, dear.
They’ll move out of the way.”

More like jump out of
the way. People leapt to the left and right in an effort to avoid being hit. Deafening scrapes pierced my ears as the car plowed over chairs and tables. My stomach lurched when she pulled back onto the road.

“The speed limit is thirty-five,” I said.

“That’s just a guideline,” said Aunt Ethel.

I started making my amends to the Almighty.
Though not religious, Aunt Ethel’s driving would drive anyone to church.

“Do any of these places look familiar?” asked my aunt.

“No.”

“You need to get out into the sun more, dear,” said Aunt Ethel with concern, “You
’re so pale.”

And I
wonder why.

Tires squealed as she blew through another red light and made a left turn causing three other cars to come to a screeching halt.
Once more we roared down the road at fifty with the wind howling in our ears through the open windows.

“This is so much fun,” sang my aunt.

Fun is not how I’d describe it. I recognized one of Tiny’s favorite hangout spots as we careened down the street.

“Oh, look!
Taco Bell is having a special,” said Aunt Ethel.

She whipped the wheel to the left ramming her way into a parking lot.
Then, with another jerk of the wheel, my aunt steered the car through the parking lot and out the exit onto the side road between us and the Taco Bell. My stomach lurched as the car flew over the grassy median and into the restaurant’s lot. She swerved, hit the brakes, and pulled neatly into the drive thru.

“May I take your order?” asked the guy on the intercom.

“Yes, I’ll have your five taco special, two churros, and two Sprites,” said Aunt Ethel cheerily.

She pulled the car up to the window with remarkable calmness.

“Don’t worry, dear, I’ll get it,” said Aunt Ethel.
She dug through her purse oblivious to the fact that I still held on to the door handle for dear life. She handed the money to the man at the window and took the food.

The roar of a bunch of bikes sounded behind us.
Apparently, Tiny and his pals had noticed us as we passed their place. They parked behind us in the drive thru lane. Tiny hopped off his bike and walked toward the driver’s window. “Mel?”

One look inside told him everything.
Slowly, I released my death grip on the door handle.

“Oh,” said Tiny.

“Tiny, darling,” said my aunt in her usual peppy voice. “Be a dear and get me some hot sauce.”

He did.
“There was a report about a car causing a lot of damage around town. Something about a lunatic driver.”

“I wonder who that could be,” said my aunt.

“I think he referred to us,” I said.

“Preposterous, dear.
My driving is perfect,” said Aunt Ethel.

“Uh, you guys do realize that this is a drive thru?” asked the kid in the window.
One look from Tiny shut him up. Poor kid. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen.