Morning Glory Circle (2 page)

Margie’s focus was on a rusted metal barrel that stood next to a set of stairs leading up to Rose Hill Avenue. Down in the bottom of the barrel she found the grocery bag, placed just as she had instructed it be done. The weight of it seemed to indicate the money was in there, but she used a small flashlight to make sure. It was during this brief lack of attention to her surroundings that someone moved out of the shadows behind the wall of discarded tires, grabbed Margie around her waist, and clamped a gloved hand over her mouth and nose. That hand held a cloth soaked in a strong smelling chemical that choked her as it filled her lungs. Although Margie struggled she also gasped in the fumes, and passed out within seconds.

Over the years, many people in Rose Hill had discovered that Margie Estep had a tendency to stick her nose in where she ought not, to seek out and spread vicious gossip, and to create malicious mischief wherever and whenever she could. These people often complained to each other that something should be done about Margie Estep. A few people in town also knew that Margie was dangerously malicious and vindictive, and incapable of feeling either empathy or remorse.

One person in particular knew very well what awful acts Margie was capable of committing. This someone had finally had enough, was not going to put up with it anymore, and was willing to wait for a long time in the cold and dark for the opportunity to finally do something about Margie Estep. Once the deed was done and Margie’s body was disposed of, all that was left to do was retrieve the money, eliminate the evidence, and let Mother Nature do the rest. Snow had a way of making everything in Rose Hill look clean and innocent, even the scene of a murder.

P
olice Chief Scott Gordon swallowed some aspirin along with the last of his hot coffee as he drove down Peony Street toward the river. When he felt that familiar headache twinge nowadays, he didn’t take any chances lest it turn into another debilitating migraine. He was incapacitated by a brutal migraine during a crucial moment in a recent murder investigation, and he was determined that must never happen again.

It may have seemed to outsiders that policing a town with one traffic light and just over 500 permanent residents would be a piece of cake, but lately the troubles in Rose Hill seemed to be multiplying as fast as the feral felines that threatened to overrun the town. Scott had a nagging feeling that the dark vein of corruption exposed by Theo Eldridge’s murder had not been eliminated by his death. He now believed it had always been there, flowing under the town of Rose Hill like an underground spring; now that he knew about it he seemed to see evidence of it everywhere.

This morning Scott was providing security for 78-year-old Enid Estep, who was leaving her home of over fifty years to go live in the best retirement home in the county. Nurse Ruthie Postlethwaite, intake registrar of the Mountain View Retirement Home and a former schoolmate of Scott’s, was providing transportation. Enid’s good friend Lily Crawford was providing moral support. Scott was just making sure Enid’s daughter Margie didn’t interfere with the transition.

Scott turned left on Lotus Avenue, the street closest to the railroad tracks and the Little Bear River. As Scott approached Enid’s house, he saw there was a “for sale” sign in her front yard, put there no doubt by realtor Trick Rodefeffer, a descendant of the glassworks founder. Scott knew Enid had deeded her home over to the owners of the retirement home in order to pay for her care.

Ruthie had parked the van from Mountain View at the curb and was standing on the sidewalk next to it talking to Lily Crawford. Ruthie was a tall, athletic woman with dark hair and eyes, and had worked with Enid for a few years as her home health nurse. Lily, who was short with a round figure, white hair, and wire-rimmed glasses, was a kind woman Enid loved and trusted. Ruthie and Lily both looked worried as Scott drove up, and then relieved to see him arrive.

“Margie won’t let us in,” Ruthie told Scott. “I didn’t want to make too big a ruckus and upset Enid, but…”

Scott sighed deeply, shook his head, and produced a key from his pocket. He gestured for the two women to follow him to the door.

He knocked on the door and called out, “Enid, it’s Scott Gordon. I have Ruthie and Lily with me, and we’ve come to help you move.”

There was no answer, and the curtains were closed so he couldn’t see inside.

“Enid, I’m coming in,” he said, and held his breath as he inserted the key and turned it.

There was no one in the little sitting room, which was cold and quiet. Scott led the women in and gestured for them to stay behind him.

“Margie,” he called out. “I’ve come to take Enid to Mountain View. We discussed this.”

There was a faint cry from the next room. Scott crossed the hall and opened the door to Enid’s bedroom, where he found her lying in her disheveled bed, her hair falling from its usual tight knot at the back of her head. She looked frail, confused, and ill.

“Mary Margaret isn’t here,” she said in a weak voice, and started to cry. “I called and called but she never came.”

Lily and Ruthie rushed to her side.

“I’m sorry,” she said to them. “I’ve made a mess.”

The two women gently helped the older woman out of her bed and into the bathroom. Meanwhile, Scott searched the house, but Margie wasn’t in it. Her little attic room, accessed by pull-down stairs in the hallway between her mother’s bedroom and the bathroom, was plain and bare, with only the most essential toiletries and very little decoration. The twin-size bed looked like a child’s bed, and the quilt on top was faded and worn.

Scott went back downstairs to the living room, perplexed. Margie’s handbag and coat were hanging on pegs by the front door. Why would Margie skip out on her mother like this at the last moment? Moreover, where was the home health nurse who was supposed to have stayed the night? Scott stood in the middle of the living room and looked around for clues, but the house seemed the same as it always was, slightly shabby but neat and clean.

On the mantle in the living room were two photos. One was a black and white photo of Enid and Eric on their wedding day, he in his army uniform and she in a dark calf-length dress suit, with white gloves and hat, clutching a white Bible. The other was a studio portrait of Margie in her first Holy Communion dress and veil, holding what looked like the same white Bible. There was a white Bible on a TV tray next to Enid’s recliner this morning, amid the pill bottles, cough drops, and discarded tissues. The book’s white leather cover was peeling and it curled up at the edges. Scott took the prescriptions, the framed photos, and the white Bible and placed them on the kitchen table so they would be sure to include them in the personal effects Enid took with her to Mountain View.

At loose ends and feeling twitchy, Scott left the house, took a shovel out of the back of his Explorer, and cleared the sidewalk. This winter had been generous with snow, and the latest forecast predicted even more. Rose Hill’s Winter Festival was scheduled to begin later that week, so more snow was welcome. After he shoveled the walk, he scattered salt on some icy patches, and returned the shovel to the SUV. Lily Crawford came out and joined him there.

“Enid hasn’t seen Margie since yesterday evening,” Lily said. “She’s beside herself with worry.”

“Why didn’t she call somebody?”

“There’s only one phone in that house and it’s in the kitchen. She couldn’t get to it.”

“Where’s her home health nurse?”

“I don’t know,” Lily said. “She’s so fragile right now I hated to keep questioning her.”

“Damn that Margie,” Scott said. “We almost got through this with no trouble.”

“I know Margie resigned from her job at the post office,” Lily said. “I’ve been hearing gossip that I know you shouldn’t comment on, but is it true you saved Margie from going to jail?”

“I should have arrested her for mail tampering and embezzling her mother’s money,” Scott said, “but I made her a deal. If she helped her mother get moved into Mountain View and resigned from her job I wouldn’t arrest her. I was trying to protect Enid.”

“I also heard she fabricated the evidence that sent Willy Neff to prison.”

“She did. She confessed as much to me when I confronted her about it after he died. I don’t have any proof, though, so I can’t prosecute her for it, and I doubt she’d repeat her confession in court.”

“I knew she was nosy but I had no idea she was doing such vicious things,” Lily said.

“I thought she was a harmless gossip. After you tipped me off about the mail I looked in the station files and found a thick file of complaints made about her before I started working there. The chief was her father’s best friend. He dismissed it as gossip and refused to do anything about it, so I guess people quit complaining. There’s no telling what else she was doing.”

“I appreciate you telling me. You know it won’t go any further.”

“You’re one of the few people in this town who can keep a confidence.”

“Was it you who ordered the home health care she’s been getting?”

“I did,” Scott said. “I thought Margie might harm her mother.”

“Surely not,” Lily said.

“I had her cornered. I thought she might do something desperate.”

“You don’t think she’s killed herself.”

“I doubt it. Margie thinks far too highly of herself.”

When they went back inside they found Ruthie had got Enid dressed and seated at the kitchen table. Lily made her something to eat while Ruthie cleaned her room and packed her belongings.

“I can’t think where she’s got to,” Enid told Scott. “She knew I was going this morning.”

“When did you last see her?” Scott asked, trying to make it sound more friendly than official.

“Last night after dinner she went out for awhile, but I heard her come back in later. She often takes walks late at night, although I told her this is not the same town she grew up in. Bad things can happen to young girls out on their own at night. She can be stubborn, that girl, when she wants to be.”

Scott knew Margie was older than he was by about ten years, and he was in his mid-thirties, so she would hardly be considered a “young girl” by anyone except her mother.

“Where is your nurse?”

“That was Cynthia. When she came last night she gave me dinner and helped me to bed, and then I sent her home. Her child is sick and she really appreciated it. I didn’t worry, knowing Mary Margaret would be here. Oh Scott, you don’t suppose anything has happened to my girl.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Scott told her, and gave her his clean handkerchief. “She’s probably just upset about you leaving and didn’t want to see you go.”

“She was the one who arranged it,” Enid protested. “She was the one who quit her job and said we had to sell the house.”

“You don’t mind going to Mountain View, though, do you?” Scott said.

“It’s a nice enough place,” she conceded. “Ruthie took me to see it. I guess there’s some would say it’s a palace compared to this place. It’s just that I’ve lived here most of my life, and it’s all happening so fast. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.”

Scott felt a bit guilty, as he was the one who pushed Margie to act so hastily.

“I heard you met some old friends over at Mountain View,” Lily said.

“Oh yes, some girls I went to school with. My people are from Pendleton, you know. Imogene and Ivy are their names, the Dale sisters. They had the most beautiful blonde curls back then, and their mother dressed them up just like Shirley Temple. I couldn’t believe those girls remembered me, but they sure did.”

“They’ll keep you busy in that place, I bet,” Scott said.

“Don’t I know it. They have a snack bar, a game room, and a craft room. Do you know they have a television in the parlor there that’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen? Every day it’ll be like going to the Bijou for a matinee.”

Ruthie returned from loading Enid’s meager belongings into the van, and after getting her to eat a little breakfast they cleaned the kitchen. Lily assured Enid she would take the soiled bedding and towels home and wash them for her. Ruthie told Enid what was going to happen next, and all the fun activities she had to look forward to, trying to divert her from worrying.

“Hannah’s going to bring a kitten to visit you,” Ruthie said, knowing how much Enid would love that.

“Mind she doesn’t leave one with you,” Lily said, “or seven or eight.”

Hannah was the local animal control officer, and was very good at facilitating “temporary foster placements” that turned into permanent adoptions.

Ruthie and Lily got Enid on her feet and helped her shuffle toward the door, chatting the whole way to try to keep her distracted. Still, when they got outside, she turned for a last look at her home, tears heavy in her eyes.

“You’ll check on my girl?” she asked Scott.

“Don’t you worry,” he told her. “You just tell Imogene and Ivy they’ll have to share you with all of us. You’ll have lots of visitors this week, including me.”

“You’ll bring Lily?” she asked. “She’s like me, she doesn’t have a car.”

“I’ll bring her, I promise. She knows all she has to do is call me. You call me too, if you need anything.”

Enid was weeping as Ruthie and Lily helped her into the van. After Ruthie got Enid secured in her seatbelt, she hugged Scott and said, “thank you” before going around and getting in on the driver’s side. Lily and Scott watched the van pull away from the curb, taking Enid to what they all hoped would be a better place.

“Where do you think Margie’s gone?” Lily asked Scott.

“I haven’t got a clue,” he replied. “And as much as I don’t care where she is, I don’t want to lose track of her either. That woman’s a danger to herself and others.”

Lily Crawford lived at the end of Morning Glory Avenue Extension, a narrow lane known locally as Possum Holler. It was little more than a dirt and gravel driveway that began where the prestigious avenue ended, at the top of Peony Street by the library. It wound around the hill past a few old farmhouses and the Rose Hill Cemetery before it ended at Lily’s farm, a narrow, rolling valley with a big pond in the middle.

Crawford’s farm was where the majority of the town’s children (and many adults) went sled riding every winter, on a steep incline that began in front of the house and ended in a wide flat meadow below. When Simon Crawford was alive there were cows grazing in the meadow and hay and corn growing in the fields beyond. The Crawfords did not have children of their own, but they were generous to the town’s children with their time and attention. The same tractor tire inner tubes that carried shrieking kids down the snow-covered hill in the winter floated them atop Frog Pond in the heat of summer. Scott had been one of those kids.

As Scott pulled into Lily’s driveway, Betty Lou the basset hound came charging out through the dog door from the back porch, baying at the top of her lungs. Behind Betty Lou, who was furiously waddling toward the truck, was a scrawny little white, gold and brown striped kitten, mewing in a hoarse voice, trying to keep up.