The Traveling Corpse (7 page)

The friends looked helplessly from one to
another; no one knew where the money was taken after Bingo was over
each Tuesday night. They just knew that thousands of dollars were
turned over to the Board's treasurer each month from Bingo profits.
Karl would present a big check at each monthly general meeting, and
all would applaud him in appreciation. These funds paid a lot of
the park's expenses and kept the dues very low for the owners.
BradLee was an extremely economical place to live for the quality
of life available to residents.

Doc raised his eyebrows, “Money. That's
always a good motive for murder!”

“But surely, not in BradLee!” DeeDee
protested. “Not here in our lovely park!”

A new thought popped into Annie's head, and
without thinking, she asked, “Who's Karl's new assistant? Barb told
me that Brad told her that the Board just appointed someone to help
him, but she didn't know who it was going to be.”

“I didn't know that!” Doc said with
surprise.

“Me neither,” said DeeDee.

Art shook his head; this was news to him,
too.

Annie said, “Oh, dear!” and rubbed her
temple. “That was a secret; I wasn't supposed to say anything. Barb
told it to me on the Q.T.,” Annie admitted. “Here's the scoop, but
you have to promise not to let this go any further. Please do
better than I just did about keeping a secret. But maybe it will
help if you know what's going on. Here's what she told me: Karl's
been running our Bingo for at least five years, as you know. It's a
big responsibility, and it takes a lot of work and time and energy.
Besides that, it goes on all summer long. No break. It's every
Tuesday night, year round.”

“I always got the impression that Karl liked
running it alone,” stated Art.

“I think he does, too,” Annie agreed, “but,
Barb said, that Brad said, that the Board wondered if maybe—they
haven't proven it—but they are wondering if Karl isn't skimming off
some of the Bingo money. He doesn't keep a record of the expenses
that it takes to run Bingo. He could easily pocket fifty or even a
hundred dollars every week, and we'd never know it.”

“That's true,” her husband agreed.
“Everybody's just so happy to get all the funds we do from Bingo
that no one questions anything.”

“Well, I guess they're asking questions now,”
Annie said. “The Board felt they should appoint an assistant, that
it was time for someone qualified to keep regular books, to make
Bingo more business-like.”

“That seems like a good idea,” Doc commented.
“Karl just kind of runs Bingo out of his hip pocket. Not much
bookkeeping done.

DeeDee broke in, “Oh, I think I know who it
is!”

“Know who is?” queried her husband.

“Tha new assistant. I think I've figured out
who tha new assistant is! Well, I can't tell ya her name right off,
but I know it's a woman. I was surprised they picked a woman
instead of a man for tha job. It's gonna take a strong-willed
person ta stand up ta Karl.” DeeDee paused, “Remember, Annie, there
was a new woman introduced at Hobby Club. Now wait jest a minute; I
do know her name. It's on tha tip of my tongue, an' it starts with
a ‘T.' Anyway, she's kinda new in tha park. She's got reddish hair,
an' she wears it long, least it's down over her ears and turns
under. We used ta call that style ‘page boy'.”

“I know who you're describing, DeeDee,” Annie
chimed in. “I heard she was a CPA; had a big job with some
corporation before retiring. Wait, I've got it. It's Twila. Twila
Something. She's a widow. Bought a place on Oneida Street, and
she's from Michigan.”

“Oh, not more from Michigan!” exclaimed
DeeDee. “Ya know how many we have already from Michigan in our
park? They always make sech a fuss at Coffee Hour when they
announce someone's moved here from Michigan. Those Michiganders
jest clap an' hoot an' holler an' celebrate like somethin' real
important jest happened!”

Annie added, “Well, it's all in good fun. And
you know that the New York State people are just as bad. Those two
states have the most people in BradLee.”

DeeDee agreed it was friendly rivalry, then
added, “There's nearly as many here from Maine—all those dear
Mainiacs! Like our dear Von and Verna.”

“For gosh sakes,” interrupted Art, “You women
can give a complete description of a person, but you can't remember
her full name!”

“Well, can you?” Annie challenged him,
playfully.

He just shook his head and smiled, “No. But
then, I don't know anything about her in the first place.”

Doc, who loved to sing, started chanting his
own made-up words to a familiar tune: “I can't remember who …
.”

The four friends put their coffee cups in the
deep kitchen sink. Annie washed them and put them in the dish
drainer. As they were shrugging back into their jackets getting
ready to leave, she thanked them, “You don't know how much I
appreciate your helping me this morning. We haven't solved the
mystery, but maybe we've solved a little piece of it. It's a
dilemma—a real dilemma!”

Art was concerned, “You're right, it is a
dilemma, and we aren't going to get any help from the Sheriff's
office until someone is reported missing. But, in the meantime,
Annie could be in real danger; especially if it gets out that we
found that shoe.”

“But, Honey, we don't have any proof that the
shoe came from the dead body.”

“That's true,” he admitted, “but I think we
should keep this just among our gang, at least until we get more
proof.”

“That makes sense to me,” Doc said. “It will
be safer for Annie. We'd better not tell anyone; not a word to
anyone. If we do, word will be around the park in no time. Mum's
the word!”

Annie held up the two packets wrapped in
aluminum foil, “We've got this shoe and the tissue with lipstick on
it as proof of … of something. Do you suppose it will do any
good to take these to the deputies?”

DeeDee wrinkled her nose, “I don't think it'd
do one bit a good, at least not jest yet. We jest don't have enough
evidence. Do we?”

Annie shrugged, “Probably not, but I suppose
I should call the sergeant. Anyhow, I'll keep the stuff, just in
case.”

“Where will ya put ‘em?” DeeDee wanted to
know.

“I haven't thought about it,” Annie answered
her friend. “I suppose I'll just put them in a drawer at home.”

“Maybe it would be better if ya didn't take
them ta your house,” DeeDee said.

Doc seconded his wife, “Just to be safe, why
don't you let me lock them in the freezer?”

“Aren't we getting a little hyper?” Annie
queried.

“Maybe so, but Annie, let's not take any
chances,” Art said. “Here, Doc, put them in the freezer.” Art
pushed the two aluminum foil packets towards his friend.

He put them in a zip-lock plastic bag, pasted
a label on the package and wrote on it, ‘Doc Davis'. After he put
it safely in the freezer, he asked, “What do we do next?”

The others looked at each other and shook
their heads helplessly. Then Annie stopped and said, “Yes, I do
know what we should do. Bow your heads with me; I'll send up a
sentence prayer: Dear Lord, it's Annie down here with my husband
and friends. We are asking for your help. We have a serious problem
on our hands, and we need all the help we can get. Please guide us
and take care of us. Amen for now.”

DeeDee thanked her for the prayer, then
asked, “Annie when you get home, are ya goin' call that Sgt.
Menendez?”

“I don't know if it's worth the bother or
not.”

Art advised his wife, “I think you should
keep her abreast of any information on the case. You never know
when a piece of the puzzle is important.”

“I suppose you're right, Art. I'll call her.
She'll probably be polite, but she'll most likely think I'm just a
rattled old lady in her dotage when I tell her that our evidence is
a used tissue and a blue denim sneaker!”

 

* * *

 

After showering and dressing for Coffee Hour,
Annie opened a cupboard and took out two coffee mugs to take with
them. She poured some milk into a tiny Tupperware container and
snapped the lid on tight. They preferred real milk to the powdered
stuff that was provided at the clubhouse. She put the mugs and milk
into the two cup tote that she had made at Hobby Club. Using green
and white yarn, BradLee's colors, she needlepointed the plastic
canvas, working their names into the design.

Carrying the little tote, she climbed into
the golf cart beside her husband for the drive back to Old Main,
Art yawned and commented, “Annie, you got me up so early; I'm
really hungry now. I could eat two—maybe three—doughnuts this
morning.”

“You deserve it, Honey, and as thin as you
are, you just go ahead and enjoy. I wish I could too, but I don't
dare.” Annie wasn't really overweight, but she was constantly
telling herself, “No,” to sweets. “You know that old adage: A
moment on the lips; forever on the hips!”

Art grimaced. Annie was always spouting old
sayings, but he really didn't mind as much as he pretended he did.
They left their comfortably cluttered doublewide home just before
8:30 a.m., but the clubhouse was nearly full by the time they
arrived for the morning social. Coffee Hour didn't begin until nine
o'clock, but Annie had quickly learned, after moving to Florida,
that seniors liked to arrive early; then they leave the minute a
program is over—no lingering, no visiting afterwards. Here, the
seniors laughed it off, calling it “BradLee Time.” Actually, if you
arrived right on time, you were already late!

As they were walking to the front door of Old
Main, Annie introduced herself to a couple. After the man and woman
moved on, Art asked his wife, “How did you know they were new in
BradLee?”

Annie laughed, “Oh, that was easy. First, of
course, was that I'd never seen them before, and the second thing
was that she was carrying a purse, a big purse.”

“What did her carrying a purse have to do
with her being new to BradLee?”

“Look around. Do you see any of us women
carrying a pocketbook?”

Her husband scanned the hall, “Well, most of
the women are sitting down. I can't tell if they have a pocketbook
or not.”

“Well, I can tell you,” Annie smiled. “they
don't. We don't bother with a purse in the park. We only carry them
when we're going shopping outside the park.”

“Oh,” was all Art could think to say as he
digested this bit of female logic.

 

* * *

 

The gang had saved seats for Art and Annie at
the end of the table in the row that ran along the far right wall
in front of the Bingo closet. Barb cornered Annie before she even
sat down, “You've got to tell me everything that happened this
morning. Doc tells me I missed all the excitement!”

“And I missed out too,” lamented Brad. He
loved Barb's friends and was happy that when he married Barb, he
also became a part of her ‘gang'. He didn't want to be left out of
anything they did.

“We want to know more, too,” Von said. “Verna
and I weren't there either.”

Annie quieted them, saying, “Maybe we
shouldn't talk about all this here. Others might hear, and I'd just
as soon keep it among us for awhile until I feel a lot safer.”

“Oh, we've been whispering; so the next table
can't hear us,” Barb reassured her. “And, don't worry, we're not
saying anything to anybody else. We don't want anything to happen
to you. You're much too precious to us,” she said, giving Annie a
hug.

“I'd still feel better if we talk about it
later,” Annie insisted as she smoothed her long jumper over her
knees.

“We can do that,” Barb replied. Then she
said, “Look, Brad, your dad is coming in.”

Her husband twisted in his chair, saw his
father at the door of Old Main and jumped up to go and greet him.
“Want to sit with us, Dad? We can squeeze in another chair for
you.”

As father and son walked over to the gang's
table, Mr. B declined, “No, I'll be sitting over there with the
ROMANS.”

DeeDee knew the ROMANS were Mr. B's buddies
in the park, but she asked, “Will ya tell me again what those
letters stand fer?”

Mr. B chuckled, “Retired Old Men At Ninety
Some.

“Is Mom okay?” Brad asked.

“She's pretty good, but she didn't feel like
coming out on a cold morning. She'd rather stay home when her
uncomfortable friend, Arthur Itis, is visiting.”

“Have you got a story for us, Mr. B?” Annie
asked.

Brad said, “Tell them the one you told me
yesterday about the golfers. That's a good one.”

Mr. B thought for a moment, unconsciously
pushed against his upper plate with his tongue, then he began:
“There were these four old men who liked to golf together. But, one
day three of them were full of complaints. The first one griped,
‘These hills are getting steeper as the years go by.' The second
one said, ‘These fairways seem to be getting longer.' The third one
belly-ached, ‘The sand traps seem to be bigger than I remember
them.' After hearing enough from his senior buddies, the oldest and
the wisest of the four of them at 90 years old, piped up and said,
‘Just be thankful we're still on the right side of the grass!'”

After a good laugh, Mr. B moved on to sit
with his old friends. Annie then asked DeeDee and Verna, “Will the
two of you help Barb and me after Coffee? We need to decorate Old
Main. It shouldn't take long for us to take down the winter
decorations and put up the February ones. It's just for this one
month. The woman who is in charge has the flu; so I promised to do
the decorating for her.”