Armed (16 page)

“How about family? Mr. Poupée seems to think there isn’t any.”

Mrs. Haddock sighed. “That’s true, I’m afraid. They never were lucky enough to have children. Elvira was an only child and I think Irwin might have been as well. I’m really not certain though I do know he married and divorced before he and Elvira met.”

I noticed Mrs. Haddock kept a supply of yarn and crochet hooks close to a comfortable chair by the window, and thinking she probably sat there in the evenings doing needle work while looking out the window, I tried a different direction. “Did you happen to see anyone lurking about who doesn’t belong in the neighborhood?”

“Well, it’s odd you mention that because the police asked me the same thing. I don’t know if it will help much, but I told them that on two occasions, late in the evening, I saw a person standing across from the house.” Mrs. Haddock rose and walked to the window parting the gauze curtains as I followed. “Over there. By that tree.” Mrs. Haddock pointed to a large poplar.

“Was it a man or a woman?” I asked as adrenalin pumped through my body.

Mrs. Haddock released the corner of the curtain and returned to her chair and her cup of tea. “As I told the police, Alex, I can’t be sure. My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

“But you’re sure you saw someone?”

“Reasonably sure. I nap in the afternoons and in the evenings I like to stay up for the news and maybe a movie if they’re showing something good. I get all those movie channels. On two occasions, when I turned out the lights, I thought I saw movement by that tree. Most people around here are asleep by the time I turn in.”

“It could have been someone walking their dog,” I suggested.

“Perhaps. Oh, I feel so foolish! I probably shouldn’t have said a word. With these old eyes, it was probably just a shadow.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure the police appreciate what you’ve told them. Let me ask you one more thing. Did this happen recently? I mean seeing the person by the tree?”

She nodded. “About two, maybe three nights before Elvira was killed. But the first time must have been a good six months ago. Of course, whoever was out there could have been there every night. Maybe I just didn’t see them.”

“True. Did Mrs. Scott go to bed late as well?”

“Yes, sometimes. She enjoyed watching the news and some nights she would be over here. We’d do our needlework together and talk.”

“Did she ever mention anything bothering her at work?” I asked hopefully.

Mrs. Haddock thought a moment, then shook her head of white hair slowly. “No. She never mentioned anything. But the last week or so, she seemed, well, like she had a lot on her mind. I thought that odd because she loved her job so I wondered what could be troubling her. I thought with the holiday, and being alone, she probably just missed Irwin so I didn’t intrude. But now I wish I had pried a bit. Maybe then I would know something that could be of some use.”

I smiled. “You’ve been a great help already. Knowing someone might have been stalking Mrs. Scott will certainly give the police a place to start.” I gave a silent moan and wondered if there was a Mrs. Haddock living over by Richard Sheridan that had seen my pitiful attempt at a stakeout last night and was this very minute giving the police a precise description of my car. Getting back to Mrs. Haddock, I asked, “Do you know if the police searched Mrs. Scott’s house?”

“Yes, they did. I have a key, you see. I let them in.”

“Did they take anything?”

“I don’t think so. Why would they? The murder happened someplace else.”

“True. But if you saw someone, maybe they were…”  I paused, searching for the right word. “Casing the joint. Did Mrs. Scott have any valuables that would entice someone to break in?”

Mrs. Haddock shook her head. “No. Not really. But I still have the key. Would you like to take a look?”

Would I like to take a look? Heck yeah. I didn’t think entering the house would break any laws. “Okay. I don’t know what I expect to find, but one never knows.”

After putting our shoes back on, we went next door. The front door opened onto a small foyer with a coat closet. I stepped inside and walked through to the living room.

The house was old but neat and clean, both inside and out. The furnishings in the living room were simple. Against the far wall a dark brown sofa with throw pillows in muted tones of blue had been placed. A comfortable recliner faced a small TV nestled in a built-in nook brimming with books and knickknacks. A large blue porcelain bowl at one end of the sofa contained the accoutrements of needlework. The same color scheme ran over into the dining room.

“There are two bedrooms upstairs and that’s about it,” Mrs. Haddock said.

I followed Mrs. Haddock up the steps and went into a room. As with the rest of the house, it was nicely done in soft colors. The bed was made and I thought with a tug at my heart that Mrs. Scott probably never left the house without first making the bed; a trait I also held along with washing all the dishes and making sure I put on mascara. I made a mental note to look into the waterproof stuff from now on. On the dresser stood several pictures of Irwin. Again, I looked at his face, and was drawn to the warmth of his eyes and his happy smile.

“That’s Irwin. I can’t believe they’re both gone.” Mrs. Haddock’s voice caught and she turned and left the room.

I followed her down the steps. We went into the kitchen where a clean bowl and spoon along with a small juice glass rested on a towel. Mrs. Haddock stood in the doorway while I turned slowly, my eyes taking everything in and noticing nothing of importance. I took a step to leave when I spotted a pad and pencil sitting on a placemat on the kitchen table.

“Elvira always made lists,” Mrs. Haddock said.

I gave her a nod. The first few lines had items to be picked up at the grocery store. Further down Mrs. Scott had written
cleaners
and
mall
. There were some doodles in the blank space to the right of the page and further down near the bottom of the paper. I started to turn and then stopped. I picked up the pad and took a closer look at the doodle at the bottom. But it wasn’t a doodle. It was something written in a dying language but one that I still practiced. Shorthand. Mrs. Scott had written something in shorthand. I stared at it properly impressed with how clear she wrote. It said
could it be MS
.

“Mrs. Haddock, did the police see this?”

“They came into the kitchen and took a look around at everything. Why? Did you find something?”

“I’m not sure. Do you mind if I take this? I want to show it to the police.”

“Certainly. Anything you think might help, feel free to take.”

I tucked the pad into my purse. We walked out onto the front porch. Mrs. Haddock locked the door.

“I wonder what will happen to this house. I have so many lovely memories tied up in this place.” Mrs. Haddock looked up at me, her eyes filled with loneliness. She turned and I followed her back to her house. I thanked her for her hospitality and gave her one of my business cards.

“If any more mail arrives, please call me and I’d be happy to pick it up and take it to Mr. Poupée.” As I walked back to my car inspiration struck and turned back, a grin spreading across my face. “Mrs. Haddock,” I called out, “do you like bingo?”

A few minutes later, immensely pleased with myself, I pulled away from the curb. Meme and Mrs. Haddock would make quite a pair—two short, elderly women, one very thin and the other very round—but as my grandmother always says, “There’s always room for a new friend.”

With my good deed done for the day, and a pretty fair chance at getting the Levy contract, I felt lucky and decided to pay one more visit before heading out to the factory. Fifteen minutes later I pulled my car into the driveway of the Poupée residence.

“Alex. What a pleasure to see you, dear.” Dolly Poupée ushered me into the house and took my coat.

With a name like Dolly, I always expected the woman to be short and round like Meme, but Dolly Poupée was the exact opposite—tall and thin, almost fragile looking. Mr. Poupée might be the head of a company, but Dolly ruled at home.

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Mrs. Scott,” I began, as I followed Dolly into the kitchen. “Mr. Poupée told me you’re making funeral arrangements. Is there anything I can help with?”

Dolly eyed me from where she stood by the kitchen sink filling a kettle with water, her long gray hair wrapped into a bun at the nape of her neck. I began to squirm. “Alex, I’ve known you since you were this high.” Dolly put her hand even with the kitchen counter. “And you’re here to snoop.” She smiled and placed the kettle on the stove. “William told me you’re helping out and that the police suspect him.”

I blushed. “I’m sorry. But I meant it when I offered to help with the funeral arrangements.”

“It’s okay.” Dolly hiked herself up onto a stool and patted my hand. “I’m sorry you had to be the one to find her. What an awful ordeal for you.” Dolly brushed at an invisible speck of dirt on the counter. “William doesn’t talk much when he gets home. I wish the man would just retire,” she said longingly. “So what’s going on? Do the police really consider him a suspect?”

William Poupée lived in Indian Cove all of his sixty-eight years and showed no signs of slowing his hectic pace. Retirement was a four-letter word, he had said often enough, and had no plans to succumb to a lifestyle where one did nothing all day and didn’t even start that until noon.

He had started working at the factory right after college and when the owner decided to sell the business and move to the south of France, William Poupée had bought it. He always thought a man with a name that meant doll in French couldn’t do any better than owning a mannequin factory.

I let out a deep sigh. “I don’t exactly have access to the police grapevine, but I think they’re looking at him, yes.” At Dolly’s worried look I quickly added, “But they’re looking at everyone. I hate to have to ask you this,” I said softly.

“But you want to know if anything ever happened between them.”

I took a gulp and nodded.

Dolly walked to the stove and turned off the kettle. “When he first hired her, he sometimes talked about her and how well she did. They shared some interests like art and gardening. I hadn’t worked in years and I felt a bit out of it.” Dolly took two mugs from a cupboard and added a teabag in one and instant coffee to the other.

“Elvira loved Irwin and after I met her, I felt better. She meshed well with William but it was work. When Irwin died, William went over and at first, I’m ashamed to admit it, I hated it. But then I invited her to dinner and out to some event or another and neither of them ever acted like they were hiding things. There were no secret looks across the room and believe me, I watched,” Dolly said wistfully. “And in the four or so years since Irwin died, I’ve never given it a second thought. Until now.”

Dolly poured milk into her coffee. “Are you seriously thinking something went on after all this time?”

“No. And I can’t imagine what the police are thinking. I mean, even if something went on, why would it lead to murder?”

“Maybe one of them wanted to call it off and the other didn’t. Are you sure there’s nothing there?” I added, hating myself for doing it.

“I’m certain. I asked him. I had to know. He looked at me like I was crazy. Said something about how could I think such a thing after all these years. He’s overwrought with grief. But it’s for a friend and a colleague, not a lover.”

I patted Mrs. Poupée’s hand. “Well, that’s good enough for me.”

Dolly Poupée’s eyes watered. “But is it good enough for the police?”

Sitting at Mrs. Scott’s desk I tried to sort out the information I had gathered so far. I opened my purse and took out the pad I had pilfered from her home and studied it again. Sure enough, it said
could it be MS
. I reached into the purse again this time taking out a small bag of M&M’s and tore it open popping a few in my mouth. I picked up the phone and called my office.

“What’s up? Sam asked the minute she heard my voice.

I told her about my morning outings.

“Mrs. Haddock said she saw someone outside on several occasions. But so what?” I said with a shrug. “It could have been anyone. Someone walking a pet. Or a jogger stopping to catch his breath. But would a jogger stop at the same place every night?” I picked up a bunch of candies and popped three more into my mouth.

“Probably not. But I don’t jog. Actually, I don’t walk a whole heck of a lot either, so I’m probably not the best person to ask about exercise habits,” Sam said on the other end.

I told her about the shorthand.

“Are you sure it says that, Alex? It’s impossible to read someone else’s shorthand.”

“Not hers. It’s very precise.”

“You think Mrs. Scott had MS?”

“I don’t know. What else could it mean? And she capitalized the MS,” I said referring to the shorthand marks under the letters denoting capitalization.

“So what does this have to do with the murder?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem. All this time I’ve been thinking Mrs. Scott knew something that got her killed. But she didn’t. She was sick. That’s what upset her.” I opened my hand to get the last few M&M’s I had been holding. Like hell they melt in your mouth not in your hand. I reached for a tissue and wiped chocolate from my palm.

“Jeez. This is terrible. That poor woman. She probably just found out the diagnosis and that’s why she wanted to talk with Mr. Poupée.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” I said.

“So what does this do for the murder theory?”

“Well, I’d say it means a serial killer murdered Mrs. Scott.”

“You don’t really believe that do you?”

“No. And wait a minute. It says
could it
be MS. It doesn’t say I
have
MS.”

“But just having that hanging over your head would make you upset.”

“I guess so.”

“Did you find anything else in the house?”