Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 03 - The Ladybug Song (19 page)

Chapter 34

Helen
Redfern wasn’t a happy judge, not by a long shot, after she’d been updated. After
arriving home from her leaf peeping trip to New England, she was visiting Isabel
and Alma in their living room. The tall glasses of iced tea sat on the three bamboo
drink coasters. Helen preferred a cup of hot coffee, but nobody turned down an
offer of iced tea. Her pretty face had darkened with anger. It was best to
avoid judges on the warpath, a lesson Sheriff Fox had learned the hard way.

Helen’s
courtroom attire included the white collar flourish with the black judicial
robes, and she didn’t mind wearing pumps. She now favored casual jeans, a paisley
blouse, and cordovan Rockports. She hadn’t broken out her digital camera to
share the galley of photos she taken of the gorgeous foliage. Sightseeing was the
last thing on her mind now.

Petey
Samson had hopped up on the sofa cushion to sit beside Helen where he’d made a
new friend. While the three ladies conversed, she’d been scratching him between
the ears, and his tail wagged away. Isabel and Alma throughout the day slipped
him doggie treats without the other one knowing about it, and he kept up running
his con job on them. Of course, he was growing chubbier as Dr. Ruffian would
point out on the next visit to the vet.

“Sheriff
Fox infuriates me,” Helen was telling Isabel and Alma. “The five-star badge pinned
to his uniform shirt and squiring around in the big cruiser have gone to his
head.”

“He
probably doesn’t act too much differently than many small town sheriffs around
the nation do,” said Isabel.

“Quit sticking
up for Roscoe,” said Alma. “Helen knows his true colors, and he’s being a rat fink.”

“Quite
right then,” said Isabel. “I’m less concerned about his recent professional misconduct,
especially now that Phyllis is a free citizen thanks to Helen’s lobbying him to
drop the charges.”

“It was
the right thing to do, and he knew it. I just gave him the extra impetus he
needed.” Helen tilted her head and regarded Isabel. “I agree with your leading contention
the late Curt Miles was probably Ladybug’s killer. Can you snoop around a
little more and bring to light his motive for doing it? I’d appreciate it
because I place so little confidence in our sheriff to get it done.”

Isabel
nodded. “We’ll be delighted to try our best, Helen.”

“We’ve
been running low on ideas,” said Alma. “Any suggestions on how we might get it
going again?”

Turning
analytical, Helen stopped scratching Petey Samson between the ears. He took immediate
offense and licked her fingers without mercy. She resumed her scratching, and
he was content again.
Isabel has just ruined him
, thought Alma mortified by his pushy manners with their guest.

“Your find
of the money suitcase puzzles me,” said Helen. “Were the banknotes stuffed inside
it stained red like caused by an exploded dye pack?”

“The
banknotes looked fresh and green as if they’d just been run off the printing
press,” replied Alma.

“Then the
money wasn’t stolen from a bank,” said Helen. “That’s a good thing for
Ladybug’s reputation. How deep did you have to excavate to get out the money
suitcase?”

“It was
like digging up a bunch of tulip bulbs,” replied Alma.

“No,
that’s not quite accurate,” said Isabel. “It was a good fifteen to sixteen
inches deep if it was an inch down in the sand.”

“Then I
stand corrected,” said Alma. “I left our yardstick at home to make a
measurement which I was too busy digging by hand to do anyway.”

“Why
didn’t you just use a garden shovel?” asked Helen.

“We also
left the garden shovel at home,” replied Alma.

Isabel ranged
up from her favorite armchair. “All this talk on garden shovels has given me an
idea. Helen, do you have some free time? Forty-five minutes, an hour tops?”

“The paperwork
piled up in my absence, but what harm is there in putting it off for an hour
longer,” replied Helen. “What’s your new idea?”

“Return
to the swimming hole for a follow-up look,” replied Isabel. “A fresh set of
experienced eyes like yours might glean a clue we previously overlooked.”

“You
exaggerate my detective talents, but I’m game if you ladies are willing to go
back,” said Helen.

“Do we
bring along Petey Samson again?” asked Alma.

“It’s always
fine with me, but I’ll leave this decision up to our guest,” replied Isabel.
“Helen, should Petey Samson stay home or accompany us?”

“I like
our chances a lot better with his hound dog nose put back into action,” she
replied. “Plus, he owes me a favor for scratching him between the ears.”

“Would
you like a housebroken dog to take home with you?” asked Alma. “I’ll throw in a
free leash and water bowl.”

The stunned
Isabel trembled, coming close to having a heart attack on the spot. “Alma! How could you think of much less do such a thing?”

Alma gave Helen a sidelong wink, but she was already wise to Alma’s mischief.

“I know
she’s pulling my leg,” said Helen. “I could never take your dog. Petey Samson is
like a family member.”

“You
don’t know the half of it,” said Alma. “Isabel has spoiled him so much even
salt won’t save him now.”

“A
mistress can never shower enough love on her pet,” said Isabel. “Helen, do you also
know the joys of pet ownership?”

She
nodded. “My sweetheart corgi Patsy of fifteen years died in July. But it wasn’t
long before I took in Oscar after my free-spirited niece Stacy went off to a college
without pet-friendly dorm rooms.”

“You are
a good sport,” said Isabel. “Is Oscar a cat, dog, or bird?”

“None of
the above,” replied Helen. “Oscar is my pet boa constrictor.
He is four-and-a-half f
eet long and growing like a kudzu vine.
”

Alma laughed. “I love it. Who babysat Oscar while you were away on vacation?”

“I left him
in the bailiff’s care,” replied Helen. “They spend a lot of time together and
have formed an attachment.”

“Where does
Oscar stay during the day?” asked Alma.

“Pretty
much wherever he pleases,” replied Helen. “Visitors get a jolting fright at first
seeing him stretched out on the credenza in my judge’s chamber. His presence settles
the legal disputes so much quicker and easier. He is worth his weight in gold.”

“We feel
the same way about Petey Samson,” said Isabel. “Don’t we, Alma?”

“It must
be true because I can’t ever seem to say no to him,” replied Alma.

Chapter 35

“Please
roll your window down all the way, Alma,” said Phyllis who they had stopped to pick
up at her townhouse after she’d had a chance to freshen up. “I love the way the
wind feels when it blows back into my face.”

Alma
did as Phyllis requested.

“I thank
you,” she said. “That is so much better than my recent stuffy accommodations.”

“It gives
us pleasure to see our favorite jailbird is now a free bird,” said Isabel.
“Sorry it took us so long, but we had to make sure it was going to be a
permanent status.”

“I came
out of it unscathed,” said Phyllis. “Now if I could only get back my expensive cell
phone from Sheriff Fox.”

Riding in
the front seat beside Alma who had assumed the driving duties, Helen responded.
“I can fix that dilemma for you with one quick phone call.”

“You
better let me ask him nicely first,” replied Phyllis.

“I don’t
mind doing it,” said Helen. “Just let me know.”

“Poor
Roscoe stays in Helen’s doghouse,” said Isabel.

“The man sometimes
acts as if he doesn’t have a clue,” said Helen. “Was he raised by a pack of dogs?”

“Present company
is excluded,” said Phyllis. She patted Petey Samson on top of the head. “Our dog
is nothing but a nice one.”

“He is a
sweet-natured pooch with an infallible nose,” said Helen.

Petey
Samson cocked his head at the judge. He bared his toothy grin, and, after doing
a double take, she could’ve sworn he winked like a secret agent at her. Before
she could mention it, Alma raised a question.

“What is Sammi
Jo doing?” she asked.

“She and
Reynolds went down to Charlottesville,” replied Phyllis. “It was a spur-of-the-moment
thing. She told me they have gone shopping for something very important.”

“It’s got
to be for buying a diamond wedding ring,” said Alma. “I can’t think of what
else would rate as very important to Sammi Jo.”

“I have
to agree with you,” said Phyllis. “She’ll probably be making the big
announcement about their wedding date.”

“That’s
fabulous, but I’ll need to go shop for new shoes as a bare minimum,” said Alma. “Phyllis?”

“Even if they
aren’t on sale, or I don’t have a coupon, I’ll have to pick out a pair,” said
Phyllis. “Isabel?”

“Oh my
yes, none of my shoes are the proper ones,” said Isabel. “Helen?”

“I will also
be in need of new footwear,” said Helen. “But I’m not keen on white or strappy
shoes.”

“Why
don’t we make a day of it at the shopping mall?” said Alma. “I also know where
to find the best pastry shop around.”

Everybody
liked Alma’s capital suggestion.

“Did you
remember to bring our garden shovel?” Isabel asked Alma.

“I can’t
think of everything,” replied Alma. “Are you expecting us to have to play
pirate again for buried treasure?”

“I can’t
say,” replied Isabel. “But using a garden shovel is easier than us having to dig
like woodchucks as we did the last time.”

“Nice try
at the evasion,” said Alma. “You had a reason to ask me such a question. Do you
care to let the rest of us in on your thoughts?”

“Not quite
yet but I will soon,” replied Isabel. “Right now it’s nothing more than playing
a hunch of mine.”

“For the
record, I’ll state I’m not a big fan of playing hunches,” said Alma.

“Duly
noted,” said Isabel. “By the way, I did remember to bring the garden shovel since
I didn’t want you to break another nail.”

“Then Ms.
Smarty Pants, you can do any of the necessary spadework,” said Alma.

“I can
help out with doing that,” said Phyllis. “Rubbing a few blisters on my palms is
the least I can do after you gals freed me from jail.”

“You are quite
welcome, and everybody will take a turn if it comes down to using the garden
shovel,” said Helen always the fair-minded judge.

***

Alma
shifted the sedan into park at the swimming hole on the Coronet River. It was the same place where Sheriff Fox had recovered Ladybug’s waterlogged
dead body, and later the ladies had excavated the money suitcase. They ranged out
of the sedan, and this time the swimming hole gave none of them a cold shiver
of fright as it had done on their previous trips.

Phyllis still
had Ladybug’s polyester headscarf. Isabel gave it to Petey Samson to sniff, and
she undid his leash. Eager to please his two mistresses, he loped off as if he
knew what he was doing. His wet nose glided an inch, maybe less, from the sandy
terrain flat as a breadboard. He struck a zigzag route, and Isabel tipped off
the others about her long hunch.

“Gals, I expect
he has picked up another money scent. Only the canines like Petey Samson with their
superior noses are capable of accomplishing the feat. Just get a load of him at
work. Isn’t he a brilliant dog?”

“Why
didn’t he pick up the same money scent the first time we came here?” asked Alma.

“Only because
we didn’t ask him to continue to make his nose useful,” replied Isabel. “Hush
now and don’t be a distraction to him when he is so close.”

Petey Samson
drew in his search pattern tighter, circling closer and closer until his nose zeroed
in to hit the true bull’s-eye. If he could have used a spray paint can, he would
have laid down an X mark on the spot. No crabgrass or ragweed grew on the sandy
patch where he flopped down and rested his bones. His purplish tongue lolled
out from his jowls, panting while he waited on the ladies to get their act
together. He refused to move until they had at least tossed aside a few shovelfuls
of sand.

Since
Helen was the youngest lady, she designated herself as the first digger. She doffed
her corduroy jacket and pitched it into the sedan’s front seat. The garden
shovel came from out of the trunk. Before grasping its handle, she spat in both
palms and rubbed them together. Phyllis almost giggled until she realized Helen
was going about her task soberly as any judge would. She clapped her hands, shooed
away Petey Samson, and sank the shovel tip deep into the river sand.

“This
sand is a lot easier to dig in than the dirt is in my vegetable plot,” she
said.

“That’s
how Ladybug buried her money suitcase so quickly,” said Isabel.

“It sounds
logical,” said Helen, working the garden shovel. She made short order of
creating a knee-deep pit. Her breathing grew heavier as her lips set with
purpose. The only noise was the crunches the garden shovel made while she removed
the sand. Her next probe with the shovel tip thunked on a solid object. Her
mouth broke into a pleased smile. The garden shovel also served as an adequate
broom as she scraped away the sand from off the top of the solid object.

“What prize
have you unearthed?” asked Isabel.

Helen, standing
in the pit, straightened to her full height. She leveled a satisfied look on
Isabel. “Your bloodhound has done it again. I have a rectangular container. The
exterior grainy cover appears to be leather, and its shade is mango yellow.
Three guesses at what it is, and the first two guesses don’t count.”

“You are
standing by another money suitcase,” said Isabel.

“The
money suitcases are sprouting like mushrooms,” said Alma.

“Pinch
me,” said Phyllis. “I must be dreaming about this. Show us the money. I never grow
tired of the adrenaline rush I get by feasting my eyes on it.”

“Are the
finders the keepers?” said Alma.

“This
time the rule has got to apply to us,” said Phyllis. “Am I correct, Your Honor?
Can I get your ruling made on exercising our salvage rights?”

“As I’m
sure you can understand, I’m reluctant to issue any ruling when I’m not seated on
the bench,” replied Helen. “But off the record, I’d say don’t get your hopes up
too high because the original party more likely than not has the first claim to
it.”

“Aw,
shucks, wouldn’t you know it our rotten luck continues,” said Phyllis.

Helen grasped
the suitcase by the handle and raised it. She set it on the ground next to the
pile of wet sand she’d just excavated. Alma took the garden shovel from Helen
and returned it to the trunk.

“Sammi
Jo and her nifty lock picks would fix us right up,” said Alma. She darted a glance
at Judge Redfern who saw many lock pick artists charged with burglary crimes seated
at the defense counsel table in her courtroom. Alma spoke to clarify Sammi Jo’s
expertise. “What I mean is she possesses the right knack for legally springing
the tough locks on suitcases like this one.”

“No such
knack will be needed here,” said Helen. “Whoever buried the suitcase no doubt wanted
to maintain easy access in order to make quick cash withdrawals. You can undo the
suitcase’s unlocked clasps. Try it and see if I’m not right.”

Phyllis
followed Helen’s instructions and flipped up the suitcase’s top. The familiar contents
gleamed with its long green splendor at them.

“What do
you know?” said Phyllis after a sharp gasp and both hands pressed against her
chest. “My daily horoscope came true for a change, and I became a wealthy lady.
Or rather I almost did.”

There
are enough C notes here to build several sun parlors
, thought Alma. Even the gape-mouthed Isabel and Helen had to remind themselves to start breathing again.

“Ladybug
sure developed an odd quirk after returning to Quiet Anchorage,” said Phyllis.
“Shouldn’t we get busy totaling it up?”

“You
just can’t wait to crinkle the paper money between your fingers,” said Alma.

“Don’t you
feel the same way about it?” asked Phyllis.

“I
wouldn’t turn up my nose at the cash if it was offered to me,” replied Alma.

“Handling
such a big pot of cash is flirting with danger,” said Isabel. “It drives you to
think irrationally and, worse, to act impulsively.”

“Sun
parlor, anyone?” said Alma, going dreamy-eyed.

“You just
illustrated my point,” said Isabel.

“You’ve
always longed for a sun parlor, too,” said Alma.

“Do you
mean to say a sun room?” asked Phyllis.

“Yes, we
do,” replied Isabel. “Alma prefers using the more homespun term of a sun
parlor.”

“So I’m
just a homespun gal,” said Alma. “But I like my nice things like any other gal
does.”

“Button
up the money suitcase and give it to Sheriff Fox,” said Helen. “He can process
it like he did with the first one.”

“What is
the hurry, Your Honor?” Phyllis toed the suitcase around to better face her,
and her rapt eyes never left the money. “We’ll hang loose and enjoy the sight
of it for a little while longer.”

Smiling,
Alma used her elbow and nudged Isabel in the side. “Uh, sis, don’t look now,
but our wonder pooch is at it again.”

“You’re telling
fibs on Petey Samson again, too,” said Isabel.

“Am I
now? Take a look,” said Alma, nodding off to their immediate right. “He has sniffed
out and flagged a
third
spot.”

At a
half-turn, Isabel observed Petey Samson had flopped down on another bare site
on the sandy beach. He
woofed-woofed
and wagged his tail as if they were
playing a game of hide-and-seek. Their delay at getting on with the fun flummoxed
him. He barked and his tail thumped harder, slapping against the sand.

“You
shush up, Mister Dog,” said Isabel. “We need quiet in order to think of what to
do next.”

“It’s
another job for our lady armed with the garden shovel,” said Phyllis.

“I’m
going to poop out if I keep digging holes,” said Helen. “Striking a justice
gavel on the block to bring my courtroom to order is the hardest thing I ever have
to do.”

“Surely Ladybug
couldn’t have been any wealthier than to fill up the three money suitcases,”
said Alma.

“Notice
how Petey Samson has stopped his restless nosing around,” said Isabel. “Money
suitcase number three should be the final one.”

“It’s the
weirdest thing,” said Alma. “Did you notice he did his nosing around and not
once did he stop and woof at us to toss him a doggie treat as his compensation?”

“He did
it out of sheer love for his two aunties,” said Isabel. “He’s just a precious
angel sent to us from heaven above.”

Petey Samson
yapped out an appreciative
woof-woof
.

Alma
started to crack a snarky comment, but Helen gave Alma a warning headshake to let Isabel enjoy her moment in the sun with Petey Samson. Alma stayed quiet.