Slip and Go Die (A Parson's Cove Mystery) (22 page)

The woman stayed on the ground for a few minutes without moving. I wasn’t sure if I should go out to help or not. It looked like she’d been pushed but what if she’d been knifed? By the time I decided that maybe I should go out and check, she’d lifted herself up and had disappeared around the corner, too.

I stood at the window for another twenty minutes. When it looked as if no one was going to return, I put my coat on over my pajamas, grabbed my flashlight and hurried over. It was almost five now and although it wouldn’t get daylight until nearly eight, I didn’t want to wait any longer.

The backdoor was unlocked. I opened it as slowly and as quietly as I could. Three were gone but who knew if someone might be sleeping upstairs–someone who had entered the house before I’d begun my watch.

The kitchen was dark and smelled of tobacco smoke. I stood inside the door and waited. All was quiet. The only sound was the hum of the old refrigerator.

I turned on the flashlight and shot the light around the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; the box of doughnuts still sat on the table. Something was different though. At first, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but then I realized what it was: one of the bottom cupboard doors wasn’t shut properly. I walked over and swung it open. I knew the cupboards should be bare.

This one, however, wasn’t. Someone had shoved various-sized boxes onto the shelf. I pulled one out and set it on the kitchen table. It was a small box filled with lots of little ornaments or, as Reg would say, junk.

I took a closer look. This was quite the find.

Bingo! This just happened to be a small portion of Beulah’s junk. I was back in business.

Chapter Thirty

I faced another conundrum: should I take all these precious items home? Should I phone Reg and tell him to get over to Krueger’s right away? Or, should I leave everything ‘as is,’ keep my mouth shut, and try to catch the thieves so that I could get all of Beulah’s things back? Somehow, the latter seemed the most sensible plan.

It was very tempting not to load everything up and take it straight to my store. After all, they had been entrusted to my care. This was no longer stealing from Beulah Henry, it was stealing from Mabel Wickles. Wouldn’t that show those crooks who was really the one in charge? Who had the upper hand? I could put a big ad in the town paper stating that I was back in business, that what had been stolen was now for sale. Wouldn’t that get the people of Parson’s Cove to buy! Deep down inside, everyone has a morbid interest in crime.

Of course, then the crooks would know that I was on to them. They would know that their secret meeting place had been found. And, as the nice man said, my life wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel.

I was making progress though. Now I knew that the lovers who had been meeting right behind my house were also the thieves and, undoubtedly, the murderers. They had murdered Beulah for her treasures and had trapped Charlie in a fish shack where they knew he would freeze to death.

Yes, sir. I was dealing with some nasty characters.

I needed to take another day off to sleep because my night was already charted out for me: I would be stationed at my kitchen window. There was no way these crooks would leave evidence behind. Even if the things on that table were worthless, it would still be evidence.

The first thing I did when I got back to my house (after putting on the coffee pot, of course) was to sit down and write up a list of all the items that I could remember seeing on that kitchen table. If there’s one thing that I can remember–it’s inventory.

I imagine that comes from having to take it every year at the shop. I was six when my parents introduced me to it. Everything must be recorded in alphabetical order. I check every item over very carefully, feeling for nicks or scratches and then it’s rated. Mother insisted that everything be rated so that we would know which price category it would fall into. For instance, if something was rated ‘3’ but it sat on the shelf for four years, it would be demoted to a ‘2’ and the price reduced.

Unfortunately, I’ve never had the pleasure of keeping track of any priceless items, so on a scale of ‘1’ to ’10,’ I’ve only gotten up to a ‘5’ so far. It’s just that this was the way my mother wanted it done so that’s the way I still do it. Of course, the store was filled with groceries and a few dry goods when she was in charge. One might get the impression that she still was. It isn’t that I believe she’s looking down from somewhere on me, I simply do it out of habit.

I took out a pen and note pad and started writing. It wasn’t much of a collection. There were several of the small head vases (personally, a bit too creepy-looking for my taste), the shaving mug, two velvet-covered boxes with some kind of old spoons inside (the boxes might be worth something), three very small, tarnished teapots (obviously, Beulah wasn’t into polishing her silverware), an ornament of a naked woman playing an instrument that reminded me of a ukulele, a couple of blue plates and an antique-looking, silver box with little legs that was packed with jewelry.

I don’t claim to know much about jewelry. I don’t wear it and I don’t sell it. The pieces that I had picked through quickly at the house seemed old and out of date. Some were plain ugly. I couldn’t remember everything in that box but I did recall a couple of pendants that were quite pretty if you like that sort of thing. There were two or three very hideous broaches. No one in their right mind would wear them, so why would someone want to steal them? Of course, the world is made up of people with bad taste (not that I had Flori’s hair color in mind).

I had just finished the list and put it in the drawer when the phone rang and someone knocked on the door at the same time.

Sometimes the small decisions in life are as complicated as the big ones. One minute I’m deciding whether I should expose a crime syndicate and the next, which should I answer first: the door or the phone? Fortunately, some things in life answer themselves.

The door flew open and Flori walked in. This was a surprise; Flori usually never takes the time to knock especially when it’s before nine. I ran over and picked up the phone.

“Mabel, this is Reg. You’ll be happy to know that there’s been a break in your case.”

“In my case?”

“Yeah. The stolen property.”

“Really? You’re kidding! You’ve found the rest of it?”

“What do you mean, ‘the rest of it’?”

“Oh, I guess I worded that wrong. I meant, ‘you found all of Beulah’s things’?”

“No, we didn’t find any of it. I’m just saying that we got a break. I didn’t say that I’d found anything.”

“So, what’s the break then?”

“We have a witness.”

“You mean Charlie talked to you?”

“No, why would Charlie talk to me? Are you hiding something, Mabel?”

“No, no. I was just getting carried away, I guess.”

“Do you think Charlie knows something about the robbery? Is that why he was locked in the fish shack?”

I grabbed a tissue and wiped off some of the sweat that was beginning to form on my forehead.

“Reg, you know how I go on about things. My imagination gets the better of me at times. Please, tell me about the breakthrough. Who did you talk to?”

“Well, it seems that Pattie Morgan happened to be looking out the window and saw three people walking down the street that night.”

“So, you’re saying that Pattie saw them break into my store?”

Reg hesitated for a second and right away I knew he didn’t have as much of a breakthrough as I was hoping.

“Well, no. She didn’t see them break into your shop.”

“What’s the breakthrough then? Were they strangers?”

“She couldn’t see their faces.”

“That’s not called a breakthrough, Reg. It could have been anyone walking down the street.”

“You’re not letting me finish.”

“Okay. Finish.”

“Although Pattie couldn’t see their faces, there is one thing that’s she’s very sure about.”

“And what’s that?”

“One of them was black.”

Chapter Thirty One

“Mabel, you look terrible. What on earth is happening to you? You look like you haven’t slept a wink. There is absolutely no way that you’re going to the shop today.”

By the time I’d gotten off the phone with Reg, Flori was out of her coat, scarf, mittens and boots and had plunked herself down at the table with a cup of coffee in front of her.

Usually, I put up an argument; after all, I’m a grown woman. I should know if I could go to work or not. This time, however, Flori was playing right into my hands.

I nodded. “Did you notice the sweat on my forehead, Flori? I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t have quite a fever.” I took another tissue and wiped it again.

“Reg didn’t upset you, did he? What did he want anyway?”

“Oh, just the usual; no one’s seen any of Beulah’s stuff. No, Reg didn’t upset me.”

“Do you think I ought to call Dr. Fritz?”

“No. There’s no way I’m going to see that quack. Besides, I’m sure it’s just a touch of the flu. I’ll probably be better tomorrow. But, you’re right, Flori, I’m going to take your advice.”

“What’s that? See Fritzy?”

“No, silly. I’m going to stay at home today. I think I need a day to rest up.”

“I’ve never known you to be so sensible. You usually fight tooth and nail to go to work.” She stood up and went over to the counter. “Want me to fix you up something to eat?”

I sighed loudly and said, “That would be wonderful. You’re such a good friend. I’m feeling a bit weak. I’ll lie down on the sofa and wait for you to bring me something.”

Flori is in her glory when she’s mothering someone. And, although I was perfectly capable of walking on my own steam, I allowed her to hold my arm as I walked to the living room. I know that if I’d insisted, she would have carried me.

I settled down with two cats and a blanket over me. Flori was humming “Flow Gently, Sweet Afton” in the kitchen. It wasn’t long and I could smell bacon frying.

It seemed that Flori had rushed over because, for one thing, Jake had gone fishing before the sun came up, and, for another, she’d run out of eggs and thought she’d join me for breakfast. But now, I suddenly realized, I had to get rid of her. Not that I didn’t enjoy her wholesome company; I did. It was just that I needed my sleep if I was to be up all night. But most of all, I didn’t want that horrid man to see her in my house. I kept having visions of him bursting through the door, rushing over to Flori and strangling her while she stood there, innocently flipping eggs.

“Flori,” I called out, “I think you should go home now.”

She walked over and stood in the doorway. “You want me to go home?” There was the hint of tears in her voice. “But, I thought we were going to have breakfast together.”

I held my hand over my forehead. “You take the food home with you, Flori. I honestly couldn’t eat a bite. My tummy is a bit queasy. It isn’t that I don’t love having you here. I just think maybe I’d better rest now. It’s somewhat hard to fall asleep with the dishes rattling away like that. You understand, don’t you?”

Of course, Flori doesn’t really understand anything like that. She loves having someone right close when she’s not feeling up to par. Or, even when she is feeling up to par. It’s a good thing that Sophie and Rochelle, her daughters, are both clingy, touchy people, too. Personally, I feel exhausted if I’m with all three of them for too long. Not to mention, slightly bruised from all the hugs and squeezes.

She stood, holding a potholder in her hand, looking like a dejected Florence Nightingale.

“Well, if you’re certain you want me to go.”

“I wouldn’t want you to catch anything and besides, you know that I can’t sleep very well when someone else is in the house, Flori.”

She shook her head. “You’d have gotten over that soon enough if you’d decided to get married.”

“I suppose so. How do you know that I didn’t decide to get married?”