Hope Callaghan - Garden Girls 07 - Missing Milt (3 page)

Frances gobbled up her sandwich and soup. Liz ate a bit slower and Gloria steered the conversation to lighter things – like grandchildren and the weather.  No sense in getting Frances all stirred up – again.

They cleared the table and dumped the dirty dishes in the bin on top of the trashcan.  Gloria trailed behind Liz and Frances.  “Say, Frances, what happened to your walker?”

Gloria hadn’t noticed with all the excitement, but Frances was getting around pretty darned good.  She was no longer using a walker!

Liz held the door as Frances and Gloria stepped out onto the sidewalk.  “I started taking these cayenne pepper pills a few weeks ago.  Heard they were good for loosening limbs and joints.  I also started walking around the neighborhood.”

“In search of Milt,” Liz pointed out.

Frances’ head drooped.  “True. In search of Milt.” She lifted her shoulders and looked around.  “I get this feeling that Milt is here, that he’s with us.  Close by.”

Frances’ apartment faced Liz’s apartment.  If the two stood staring out their bedroom windows, they could look directly into one another’s window. 

Frances unlocked her side kitchen door and led them inside.

Gloria stepped across the threshold and caught a whiff of men’s cologne. 

Liz smelled it too.  “Did you start wearing men’s cologne?”  She spun around and faced her friend.  Her eyes narrowed.  “What’s up with that?”

Frances closed the door behind them.  “I-I.” She began to sniffle.  “It’s a bottle of Highland Nights, Milt’s favorite cologne,” she confessed.  “I spray it in the house.  It reminds me of him.” She burst into tears, dropped her head in her hands and began to sob. 

This was way worse than Gloria had imagined.  This woman had an extreme obsession!  She had no idea what the big draw over Milt was all about.  The man’s head was shinier than Mr. Clean’s and he had beady, brooding eyes. 

His voice an annoying pitch that was always three decibels too high and it grated on Gloria’s nerves every time she heard him talk.  On top of that, he was just plain slimy, for lack of a better word.  Every time Milt shook Gloria’s hand, she had the overwhelming urge to douse it in hand sanitizer.

Liz led Frances over to the dining room table and pulled out a chair. 

Frances sunk into the seat. She dropped her arms on the table and laid her head on top of her arms.  “I have to find Milt,” she wailed.  “I just have to.”

Gloria pulled out the chair next to the heartbroken woman and settled in.  “Now, Frances,” she told her in a stern voice, “you have to pull yourself together if you want to help me find Milt.”

“She’s right, Frances,” Liz agreed, “Gloria is a very busy woman and doesn’t have a ton of free time to spend on this case.”

Gloria’s eyes shot up as she glared at her sister.  Liz was making her sound downright heartless.

Liz gave a dismissive wave.  “So we’re gonna have to map out a strategy here to try to find him.”

Gloria spied a small notepad and pen on the edge of the table.  She grabbed the pen and the notepad, slipped her glasses on and lifted the cover.  She needed to take a few notes if she was going to trace Milt’s steps. 

Her eyes widened when she spied the chicken scratch on the first sheet of paper.  Frances had already started taking notes!

“Milt was last seen on the evening of September 2nd.  He was talking to Clyde Ward out in front of the Rolling Green Clubhouse.”

Rolling Green was the golf course located on Dreamwood’s property, used exclusively by residents and their guests.  Gloria had only caught glimpses of the golf course on her way in and out of Dreamwood, herself never having swung a golf club in her life.

Liz, on the other hand, was an avid golfer…or so she told Gloria.  Whether she was or not hadn’t been confirmed.

Gloria continued down the list.  Next on the paper:
“Milt’s habits.” 

“7:30 a.m.  Breakfast - Del’s Diner with his buddies

9:00 a.m.  Workout - Dreamwood gym

11:30 a.m. Lunch - Dreamwood Eats

1:30 p.m. Nap at home

3:00 p.m. Poker playing in the clubhouse

5:15 p.m.  Dinner at someone’s house.  Rarely eats dinner at home.
Frances had written a small side note. 
Not certain that Milt knows how to cook. 

7:00 p.m. Walk with Frances.”

There was a second list.  This one listed Milt’s preferences:

Milt drinks 2 cups of coffee every morning.  Dunkin Donuts original blend.  (Purchased at Meijer, the local supermarket.)

Favorite food: Chocolate chip cookies.  He eats at least a dozen cookies per week.  The kind with the chunks.  Milt likes to dip them in a glass of cold milk.

His favorite sports team is the Detroit Tigers and his second favorite is Dallas Cowboys, although I’m not sure why.
(Frances had added additional commentary.)

Milt’s favorite cologne: Highland Nights.

His dog, Fudge, died a couple years ago and he never got over it.

His favorite color is green.  The color of money.

There were so many questions swirling around Gloria’s brain.  This was beginning to creep her out.  How did Frances know that Milt napped at 1:30 every afternoon?  Did she really want to know?

She closed the cover on the pad of paper and slid it across the table.  “I guess the first thing on my list is talk to Clyde Ward to see if Milt said anything unusual.”

Frances nodded.  “I tried that already but every time I try to ask Clyde about Milt, he just clams up.”

“That’s because Clyde asked you to the afternoon movie matinee a few weeks ago and you shot him down, telling him he didn’t hold a candle to Milt.  You snubbed him,” Liz pointed out.

Frances rubbed an imaginary spot off the table with the tip of her finger.  “I know, I remember.  Looking back, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she admitted. “He lives over at 726 Peachtree Lane.”

Gloria slipped her glasses into her purse.  “What about Milt’s house phone and cell phone?  Are they still in service?”

“Check,” Frances answered.  “I call them every single morning as soon as I wake up.”

“Do you leave a message?” Gloria wondered.

Frances nodded.  “I was leaving messages.  Of course, now both the mailbox and answering machine are full and it won’t let me.”

“I also could’ve sworn I saw Milt talking to Trudy Gromalski the night he disappeared,” she added.

Frances grabbed the notepad and pen and flicked the pad open.  She scribbled a number down, ripped the sheet off and handed it to Gloria. “She moved to Dreamwood a couple months ago.  She lives over on Wisteria Way.”

“Did you try to talk to her?”

Frances jerked her head.  “Of course!” she snapped. 

Gloria crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.   

Frances backed down.  “No. I mean, of course I tried,” she soothed.  “Every time I go over there, no one is home.”

Gloria rubbed her brow thoughtfully.  She could kill two birds with one stone.  Visit Clyde first then swing by Trudy’s place. Hopefully, they would be willing to talk.

She grabbed her purse and rose from the chair.  “If you think of anything else, let me know,” she told Frances.

Gloria and Mally followed Liz out the door.  Frances stood in the doorway.  Her eyes filled with tears.  “Will you let me know what you find out?”

Gloria assured her she would. Liz and Gloria slowly wandered across the meticulously manicured lawn toward Liz’s place.  “You want me to go over there with you?” Liz offered.

Gloria shook her head.  “No.  I’ll go by myself.  I might be able to get more out of them if I’m alone.”

Liz had more enemies than friends at Dreamwood and Gloria wasn’t sure what side Clyde and Trudy were on – friend or enemy.

The skies were clear and the temperatures perfect for a leisurely stroll.  Gloria clipped Mally’s leash to her collar and they headed down the sidewalk.  Gloria admired the rich reds, buttery yellow and deep oranges of the fall flowers as they strolled along.

Gloria sometimes wished she had sidewalks near home.  Of course, Mally and she took lots of walks.  Through the fields behind the farm, to the creek that ran through the back of her property, but that was about it. 

The road in front of the farm was the main road into Belhaven and there was a lot of traffic.  No, it was not safe for them to walk on the side of their road.

Gloria was glad she had thought to hook Mally to her leash.  A few times, she tried to dart off toward the old oak trees that lined the streets in hot pursuit of a pesky squirrel.  The critter was bent on taunting poor Mally, who finally abandoned the chase and obediently trotted along next to Gloria.

Gloria turned at the corner of Peachtree Lane as she made her way to Clyde’s place first.  She was in luck!  Sitting in a wooden rocker on the front porch was a dark-haired man, a pipe pursed between his lips.  He eyed Gloria with curiosity as she made her way up the sidewalk to his front porch.

He took a puff off his pipe and studied her from his chair. The smell of maple and hickory floated in the air and drifted down the steps.  The man pressed his foot on the porch floor and the rocking stopped.  “Can I help you?”

Gloria shifted Mally’s leash from one hand to the other.  “Yes. My sister, Liz. Liz Applegate, lives in the complex.  She was telling me that one of the residents, Milt Tilton, is missing and I’m making my rounds to see if perhaps some of the residents might know what happened to him.”

Gloria left out the part about Frances saying he was the last person seen talking to him.  She wanted to get Clyde Ward’s take on things.

Clyde leaned back in his chair and studied her thoughtfully.  “Yeah. It’s the talk of the neighborhood, even more so now that that kook Frances chained herself to the front of the restaurant.” He snorted. 

“Did you know Mr. Tilton?” He seemed willing to talk.  It was an encouraging sign. Gloria took a step up.

He nodded his head.  “Yep.  Old Milt and I like to play cards down in the clubhouse most afternoons. Poker.  Not for much money though…just a few coins.”

He changed the subject.  “Pretty dog.  Used to have a cocker spaniel myself.  Good hunting dog.”

Gloria glanced down at Mally.  “Yeah, she loves to chase the birds, the squirrels.  Just about anything, really.”

Mally thumped her tail and let out a low whine.  Gloria saw this as her opportunity to get closer to Clyde Ward and perhaps ask a few more questions. 

They wandered up the steps and onto the covered porch.  Mally trotted over to the rocker and Clyde patted her head. 

“She’s a beauty,” he said admiringly.

“Do you think Milt took off or is there a chance something else happened to him?”

Clyde scratched under Mally’s ears, which made her promptly drop to the floor and roll over onto her back for a belly scratch. 

“You know, it’s kind of odd.  Can’t see Milt as the disappearing kind.  Course anything is possible.”

He glanced up at Gloria.  “Guess I was one of the last people to see him before he disappeared.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at Gloria suspiciously.  “You seem awful curious about old Milt.”

He leaned back in his chair.  “Say…aren’t you that nosy lady that’s always coming across dead bodies?” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.  “Yeah! Yeah, you are that nosy lady.”

Gloria stiffened her back.  She wasn’t nosy!  She was a detective.  Well, an unpaid sleuth. Her lips drew in a thin line.  “I’m trying to help a friend that is very concerned for Mr. Tilton’s well-being.”

He snapped his fingers.  The light bulb clicked on.  “Frances is behind all this, isn’t she?”

Gloria wasn’t about to argue.  “All I’m trying to do is make sure the man disappeared of his own free will.” Gloria went in for the kill.  “I would think any good friend would want the same,” she pointed out.

Clyde Ward nodded.  “True.”  He rose from his chair and shoved his hands in his front pockets.  He stared down at Gloria.  He was taller than he first appeared. 

“Milt did make a bit of an odd comment the night he disappeared.”

Gloria leaned in.  This is what she’d been hoping for…

“He said something about someone lurking around his bushes the last few nights.”

“Like a peeping Tom?” Gloria prompted.

Clyde nodded.  “Yeah. Every time he went out to check, there was no one there.”

Gloria nodded.  “Huh. That’s interesting.”  She stepped back down onto the sidewalk.  “Is that all?”

“Yeah,” Clyde rocked back on his heels.  “Hope old Milt’s okay. Good poker player, that one,” he added.  

Gloria fumbled inside her purse and grabbed a pen, along with small scrap of paper from her wallet.  She scribbled her phone number on the slip of paper and stepped back up, pressing it into Clyde Ward’s hand.  “If you think of anything else, please call.”

He glanced down at the paper.  “Will do, ma’am.”

He watched as Gloria and Mally stepped back onto the sidewalk and turned left.  She could feel his eyes following them until they rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.