Calamity Jayne and the Sisterhood of the Traveling Lawn Gnome (8 page)

Harve did more scratching.

"What did this gnome look like?"

Now I was the one doing the chin scratching.

"Well, it was just getting dark, and I really didn't see it for all that long, but it had a white beard and had like a blue shirt with some kind of tan overall. Oh, and a pointy blue hat. I remember that."

"All gnomes have pointy hats," Samuels said with a smirk in my direction.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Harve said.

"Well it rings
my
bell!" I'd forgotten all about Aunt Eunice until she inserted herself in the middle of our little circle of inquiry. "That's Abigail Winegardner's gnome!" Aunt Eunice declared.

"Who are you?" Harve asked.

"Beauregard Blackford at your service," Aunt Eunice said. "And the gnome you're chewing the fat about belongs to Abigail Winegardner. I'd bet my life on it."

"Now hold on there! You accusin' me of stealing?" Harve said, puffing out his chest like an affronted rooster.

"Tressa Jayne saw that gnome right there," Aunt Eunice said and pointed at the mailbox. "Didn't you, Tressa?"

"Well, I saw a gnome—"

"And it had a blue shirt and pointy blue hat just like Abigail's."

"I told you before, I didn't have no gnome!" Harve said.

"We can't be sure it was Abigail's gnome, Au…er…Uncle Bo," I pointed out. "And if Harve said he didn't have one, he didn't have one. Harve's as honest as the day is long."

"The days are getting shorter, you know," she said and gave Harve the 'I'm watching you' look. "Abigail's gnome is a one-of-a-kind antique. Quite distinctive. If you saw a picture, do you think you could identify it, Tressa?"

Deputy Samuels snorted.

"Good grief. A photo layout of lawn gnomes?"

Great Aunt Eunice clapped the deputy on the back. "Great idea, Deputy! Now you're thinkin'. Thanks for putting that together. I'll get a photo of Abigail's gnome to you today," Aunt Eunice said.

Samuels' smirk wilted.

"Come on, Harve," he said. "Let's take a look around your place and get some pictures," the deputy said. "Maybe we'll find the culprit is a dwarf with a pointed hat and white beard."

I resisted the juvenile urge to flip the bird at the deputy's retreating back. Uncle Bo had no such qualms.

"Well, what do you know? We got us a rumble right here in River City," Uncle Bo said, sounding a lot more like my gammy than she probably suspected.

Beauregard Blackford was right.

That apple didn't fall far.

"Help yourself to another roll, Tressa," Abigail Winegardner called to me from another room.

I sat back in my chair and rubbed my tummy and stared at the plate of gooey perfection that was Abigail Winegardner's famous sticky buns.

Should I or shouldn't I?

"Oh, come on, Tressa. You know you want it."

I looked over at Aunt Eunice—or a version thereof—sitting at Abigail's dining room table next to me. She'd removed the mustache and wig but was still wearing the au couture line from the hobo haberdashery.

"I really shouldn't," I said, patting my waistline.

"Oh, come on. Live a little. No one makes pastries like Abby."

"Don't I know it," I said, having just consumed proof of that fact.

You'll cover for me with my gammy, won't you? Wink, wink.

I was about to select a particularly gooey third roll—but who's counting—when Abigail entered the dining room again.

"Here it is! I knew I had some pictures of Cedric."

I blinked. "Cedric?"

She nodded. "As long as I can remember, our little lawn gnome has been known as Cedric. And dear Cedric is no ordinary gnome."

I blinked.

"He isn't?"

"Oh, no. Cedric is quite old. He dates back to the 1920s."

Yikes! That
was
old.

"Here he is, our poor little missing lawn gnome." Abigail handed me several photographs.

I stared.

Holy
Leprechaun
, the movie! Three billy goats were missing their troll! Little Cedric here made
Chucky
look like
People's
Sexiest Doll Alive.

Dressed in a sky blue shirt and tights and matching pointy hat and paired with a short khaki-colored belted overall and pointed ankle high boots, it was the wee little bearded man's scrunched up, misshapen face, pointed ears, and maniacal eyes that had visions of killer ventriloquist dummies playing tricks in my head.

"Cedric has always watched over our yards," Abigail said, wistfully.

I frowned. Cedric here was as much of a benevolent guardian of the garden as a herd of rabid mutant jackrabbits.

And totally more terrifying.

"He's quite…unique," I said and winced, glad now I'd resisted the offer of the additional sticky roll.

"He's from the early twentieth century. Cast iron, too. He's really quite rare."

I forced myself to look at the picture closer. It certainly looked like the gnome I'd seen at Harve's mailbox the previous night.

"I knew I should've kept him in the backyard, but I thought it would be nice to put him in the flower bed out front for a change," Abigail said and shook her head. "I should've let him be."

"When did you move him?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Oh, late spring or around there. I had to have help moving him. He's quite a chunk."

"How big is, uh, er Cedric?" I asked.

Abigail put a hand out, palm down above her knee.

"He came to about here," she said. "I'd say he was somewhere around oh, thirty inches tall or so. Maybe half that across."

"You said you needed help moving him. He's fairly heavy then?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. I would imagine it would take two people to carry him any distance. But I expect one person could lift it and put it in a car and drive away."

Dang. Hellion Hannah wasn't off the hook yet.

"Could I borrow the photos?" I asked, getting to my feet.

"Of course. But what are you going to do with them?"

I shrugged, not about to tell Abigail that I was planning to lay down a short stack photo lineup of lawn gnome types for potential gnome witnesses.

"In my line of work I get out around the county a lot," I said. "I'll keep my eyes open for Cedric."

And pray I didn't turn to stone like Medusa's victims if I did find him.

I thanked Abigail for her hospitality, and Aunt Eunice led me to the back door. She'd made me park out of sight around the block and insisted we make our way to Abigail's back door separately. I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd required I use a password to gain admittance to the Winegardner domicile.

"It's the same gnome, isn't it?" Aunt Eunice said. "You saw a gnome by that Harvey the Horseman's mailbox, and it was Cedric wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure," I said, even though having laid peepers on Cedric one didn't tend to forget him.

"What are you going to do next?"

"I'm not sure."

"What kind of reporter are you?"

A reporter who had learned the hard way to look before she leaped headfirst into a story.

That kind.

"I'm going to do what I always do," I said.

Great Aunt Eunice blinked.

"You're gonna find a dead corpse?"

Was there any other kind?

"No, no," I put my hand up. "I'm going to ask questions. Nose around. See what I can find out. Do a little digging. You know. Investigate."

"You gonna keep us in the loop, right?"

I nodded.

"Oh sure. Of course. Absolutely."

"And mum's still the word regarding my little reunion surprise, right?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely. Mum is the mum." I made a little key locking gesture. "Believe me, I know
nothing. Nothing at all
.
" I gave her a quick peck on a wrinkled cheek. "I'll be in touch," I said and started to open the door.

"No! Wait!" Aunt Eunice grabbed her Uncle Bo hat and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head and pulled the strings so tight she looked like an American Bulldog. She cracked the door open and looked to the left and then to the right. "All's clear!" she said. "Go!"

I felt a hand in the small of my back, and the next thing I knew she'd shoved me out of the house and closed the door behind me.

Head down, I hurried to my car thinking how fortunate it was Aunt Eunice only visited infrequently.

I jumped in my car, started it, and drove away, reaching the stop sign at the end of the block when my cell phone rang. I pulled it out and looked at the screen.

My gammy.

"H'lo?"

"Tressa? That you?"

I frowned.

"Yes. Weren't you calling me?"

"'Course I was callin' you. Who else would I be calling?"

I shook my head.

"I'm kind of busy right now, Gram. What do you need?"

"I need for you to drive around the block and pull into the driveway and come in."

"What?"

"I can hear the chug-chug-chugging of your car."

"I don't know what you mean, Gram. I'm not—"

"I can see you, Tressa!"

I sighed. How does she do that?

I bowed to the inevitable and, as instructed, made a right and a few seconds later pulled into the house Gram shared with her new hubby. I saw the curtains move at the front window. I turned my car off and got out, catching the movement of curtains again—this time at Abigail Winegardner's front window. I shook my head.

Oh, brother.

Make that oh, sisters.

I jogged up to the front porch and opened the screen door. A long, bony, liver-spotted hand reached out and pulled me into house and slammed the door closed behind me.

"What were you doing at Abigail's?" Gram demanded, a set of binoculars hanging around her neck.

Evade! Evade! Evade!

"Why would I be at Abigail Winegardner's?"

"That's what we want to know."

"We?"

"Joe and me. Right, Joe?"

"Joe?"

"Did I hear someone mention my name?" Joe said, walking into the living room wearing a pink polo shirt and what appeared to be khaki capri pants.

"Nice, uh, outfit, Joe," I said with a pointed look at his ensemble. "You start buying off the modern miss racks?"

Joe's face blushed pinker than his shirt.

"I'll have you know these are the latest in men's European fashion," Joe said.

"Good to know," I said. "I thought maybe my gammy had some trouble with the laundry again and you had some, er, shrinkage."

"I'll just bet you did," Joe said. "Now, what were we talking about before you tried to distract us? Oh, yes. You were about to tell us what you were doing at our neighbor's house. Isn't that right, Hannah?"

"That's right. What's goin' on with you and ol' lady Winegardner?"

"Nothing! Really! Nothing's going on with the neighbor lady and me. I hardly know the woman!"

I felt a moment of déjà vu. If I wasn't mistaken, at a time in the not-so-distant past Joe Townsend had used these very words to reassure my gammy of his fidelity.

"What's that on your face?"

"What?"

"There. Around your mouth." Joe said. "You've got crumbs."

Before I could put a hand up to wipe the evidence away, my gammy was on me like a mouse on a trap baited with a
Rolo
caramel. She put her fingers up and literally snatched the crumbs from my lips and put them to her own.

"Abigail's sticky buns!" she hissed. "Patouey!"

"Okay, okay!" I put my arms in your basic 'I give up' pose. "So she offered me a bun. To be polite, I accepted. I assure you I didn't enjoy them."

"Them?" Joe said and lifted an eyebrow.

"Why're you visiting Abigail?" Gram asked.

I sighed.

"If you must know, it's about that gnome of hers."

"That butt ugly one? She still accusin' me of pilferin' the homely little halfling?" Gram asked.

"I was there to get a picture of the gnome in question," I said.

"Why?" Joe and Gram said in unison.

"I, uh, er, well, I thought I might have spotted it the other night, and I wanted to see if she had a photo so I'd know for sure."

I know. Lame. Really lame.

"Helloo! Lame and lamer," Gram said. "What about that man?"

"Man?"

"The man Abigail has living with her! The old duffer who looks like a homeless dude! That man!" Gram said.

I shook my head.

"I didn't see any man."

"The man you let out of your car, Tressa! The man who tried to sneak into ol' horse face's house without being seen!" Gram said.

"Oh.
That
man!" I said.

"Yes. That man," Joe said.

"Is he Abby's lover?" Gram asked.

Eww.

"I have no idea," I said. "And I don't want to know."

True and truer.

"He's a scruffy character," Joe observed. "All that cloak-and-dagger and duck-and-cover drama."

"And apparently quite unnecessary and ultimately unsuccessful." It was my turn to observe.

"Well, naturally," Joe said with a lift of his chin.

"Wait! You hear that? I think she's leaving!"

Gram grabbed her binoculars and raced to the back door.

"So, chickie. How does Abigail's homely gnome figure into your latest story?" Joe asked. "And no bull."

"I'm working a hunch," I said.

"Oh, God," Joe said. "I know I may regret this, but details please."

I shook my head.

"Your turn. Have you made any headway on our man of mystery project?"

"I have a few ideas," he said.

"And?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he said.

Double eww!

"Damn. It's just ol' Lady Winegardner leaving again," Gram said. "Looks like she left Lover Boy at home."

Or, maybe Uncle Bo was hiding in the backseat.

"I'm outta here," I said. "I've got a blockbuster story to write."

"Don't forget about the reunion this Sunday, Tressa!" Gram said. "And don't come empty-handed this year!" she added.

"Oh, I won't," I said. "I'm bringing something extra special this year."

"What's that?" Gram asked.

"Deviled eggs," I said and hoofed it to the door before my gammy could catch me.

And, yeah. You guessed it. The
devil
made me do it.