Slip and Go Die (A Parson's Cove Mystery) (26 page)

“I know who’s here,” I hissed at him. I looked over at Mr. Flynn again.

I didn’t remember much about the man. He could have walked past me on the street and I doubt I would have recognized him. Now that I was up close, it did bring back a few memories. I hadn’t liked him much, but then, I’d disliked his wife more, so when he’d disappeared, I didn’t blame him one bit. In fact, no one in town did. He was sort of a town hero and we wished him all the luck in the world.

Now I noticed that his dark hair was thinning on top. It looked greasy and so did his skin. He had a few days’ growth of whiskers on his face, which made him look like he might make a good drinking buddy for Amos. A person could see the potential, however; after a shower, haircut and decent clothes, Chester Flynn might make a striking-looking man.

There was one thing that I never forgot: his eyes. They were a pale blue and when he looked at you, it was as if he could see right through your every layer of skin. He looked like he’d always looked–slimy. Esther might act all hoity-toity, but when it came to picking a husband, she hadn’t been too bright.

There was one uniformed cop sitting in front of him, writing something down. There was another, standing behind him with a rifle cradled in his arm. There was no escape for Mr. Flynn. It made me feel secure.

I walked over to Scully and Jim. At the same time, I was keeping an eye on the convict.

“How do you know who’s here?” Scully asked.

“Well,” I said, “I have eyes. I happen to know that the ugly guy sitting over there (I rolled my eyes to the left) is Chester Flynn.”

“No, that’s not who I mean, Mabel.”

“You mean the big black man? What’s his name? Washington?”

Scully shook his head. “No. Someone else.”

“Okay, you’ve got me, Scully. Who’s here?”

“That captain from the city, that’s who. You know the guy who came out one other time.”

“You mean Captain Maxymowich?”

They both nodded.

“Why did he come out?”

“I think these two guys might be big time crooks, Mabel,” Scully said, lowering his voice. “And, guess what?”

“Scully, I don’t want to guess.” Mr. Flynn had suddenly started cussing and kicking the table leg. I decided that I’d like to leave as soon as possible, even if Mr. Maxymowich was within shouting distance. “Here.” I handed the tape to Jim. “This is extremely important. Give it to Reg. I think he’ll find it very interesting.”

Jim nodded. “Okay.” He smiled. “Sure you don’t want to stay and say hello to the Captain?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the cop with the rifle giving Mr. Flynn a nudge in the ribs with his gun barrel.

“No,” I said. “I think I’ll get back to the store.”

“The Captain was asking about you.” Scully’s grin was so wide, it looked like his lips might crack.

“Really? That was very nice of him.” Perhaps, if I hadn’t been so concerned with the little ruckus that was taking place on the other side of the room, I might have allowed my heart to skip a few beats. At the moment, however, my only thought was escape.

“Yeah. When Reg told him about you watching the Krueger house and calling him in the middle of the night, he seemed pretty impressed.”

At this moment, it appeared that Mr. Flynn was finished with his burst of ill temper or his hissy-fit, or whatever it was, because the over-sized cop behind him picked him up by the back of his shirt collar and shoved him towards the cell. Just before he disappeared behind the door, he yelled, “You’ll be sorry, Mabel Wickles. This isn’t over yet. No old broad is going to put me away for life.”

Scully yelled back, “Mabel isn’t putting you there. You’re putting yourself there, you old goat.”

Scully has a tendency to be very brave whenever his adversary is in shackles.

“Thank you, Scully. You’re a true gentleman,” I said. “Well, I guess I’d better go. Flori is looking after things and you know what she’s like; she’ll probably be giving half the store away.”

I glanced over towards Reg’s private office. The door was closed.

Jim nodded. “That’s where Reg and the Captain are. They’ve been in there for a long time now. Sure you don’t want to wait to say hello?”

“No. Just give them the tape as soon as you can. Tell Reg to let me know what’s happening, okay? He might want to hear some of my theories, too.”

“I’ll tell him. He always loves hearing your theories, doesn’t he?”

If anyone else had said that, I would have taken offense. Scully, however, meant it in a very sincere way.

I took my time walking back to the store. It wasn’t solely because I was afraid of slipping on the ice. I had to admit that. Sometimes, I’m not sure why I do certain things. For instance, why hadn’t I stayed to see the Captain? I really had no excuse not to. Would I still find him so intimidating? It had been two years since I’d last seen him. He was certainly someone I would never forget. I’d learned one thing from my meeting with him: never make a hasty judgment about anyone. (I can’t say I’ve applied that in my life at all times but I’ve been more conscientious of it.)

I don’t recall ever disliking anyone at first glance as much as I did Captain Marlow Maxymowich. He was this tall, slouchy, miserable-looking man, dressed in a baggy wrinkled navy suit. When he questioned me, he never looked me in the eye; he just tapped his pen on the table. Tap. Tap. Tap. I stared at the top of his head. No, I believe I hated the man. It wasn’t until he was ready to leave that I saw the real Maxymowich.

Of course, it could have been my tea and muffins that melted his heart.

I stepped into the shop and stopped. Word must have gotten out about Chester Flynn and his capture. The place was packed. At least six women came rushing over when they saw me.

Pattie Morgan pushed in front of them all. After all, she ran the town paper so I guess she thought she should get the scoop first. She had a pen and paper in her hand and glory-seeking in her eyes.

“Mabel,” she said. “What can you tell us? Did you see Chester Flynn in person? Can you describe what he looks like? Flori said that Millicent might be involved too. Is that true? Have you talked to Esther? Did she know her husband was in town? Do you know for sure that Beulah was murdered? Can you describe what you saw….”

I held up my hand. “Pattie, I’m not answering any questions. I don’t know anything yet myself.” I pushed my mitten up against her chest. “And, don’t you dare print anything about Esther or Millicent. If you do, one of them will sue you for sure. Got that?”

I glanced over at Flori. She looked guilty. Sometimes it’s hard for Flori to keep things to herself. I don’t mean secrets; she’s great with secrets–it’s the gossipy things she finds difficult to keep bottled inside.

The women groaned. I guess I’d spoiled their day. Not only had they not received any gossip, they had all bought something while they were waiting for me.

“I’m sorry, Mabel. I should never have mentioned Millicent to Pattie,” Flori confessed after the store had emptied. “But, you know how she is. She said that Millicent hadn’t shown up for work for the past two days. It sounds suspicious, doesn’t it? Do you think she’s run away?”

“No. I think she’s feeling cheated and deceived, that’s all. It’s hard to imagine her crying her heart out, but she probably is. And, I would imagine she might be sporting a black eye or some other sort of bruise.”

Flori gasped. “What do you mean?”

“The more I think about it, the more sure I am; her father didn’t give her a fatherly push off that step. He whacked her across the face and she flew backwards.”

Flori’s hand went up to her face. “Oh, what a wicked man. Did you really see him at the station?”

I nodded. “He’s a slime ball, Flori.”

“Oh, you poor dear. Did he say anything to you?”

“Yeah. The usual threats–he’ll make me sorry. He’ll never let me get away with it.”

Flori came over and hugged me. It felt good. I had needed a hug, badly.

“This has been such an ordeal for you. Why don’t you go home and let me look after things for the rest of the day?”

It was tempting.

“Maybe for a couple of hours. Would you mind?”

She hugged me again, tighter. “Of course, I don’t. You run along. Everything will be fine. If anyone comes in to ask questions, I’ll say that I don’t know a thing.”

“And, Flori,” I said, “you don’t.”

She grinned and pushed me out the door.

I went off in the direction of my house. I had to; Flori was watching. I then, doubled back, went down the back lane, and headed for Charlie’s house.

In the daylight, Charlie’s shack looked worse. It was a wooden structure. The paint had peeled off years ago. There were some red shingles on the roof and some brown. It was impossible to tell which the original were. Large old trees surrounded the building. You couldn’t see the house until you were almost standing in front of it. Personally, I thought that in the summer it was beautiful, like a tiny cabin hidden deep in the woods. Everyone else said it was an eyesore. Flori said that she wouldn’t make any comment because it was a man’s home and she didn’t think it was right to make judgments.

I knocked at the backdoor. After four knocks, Charlie slowly opened it.

“Can I come in, Charlie?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not today.”

“Oh. Well, I wanted to let you know that the bad guys have been caught.”

I looked at him and smiled. Charlie just looked.

“That means,” I said, “we don’t have to be afraid anymore. Aren’t you happy about that?”

Charlie continued to look at me, expressionless.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Is that all, Mabel?”

“Yes.”

He shut the door.

I snuck home through the back lanes, took the phone off the hook as soon as I walked in the door, fed the cats, cleaned out the cat litter, raced up the stairs, curled up in bed under my duvet and within five seconds fell asleep. Even someone as brave as Mabel Wickles could only take so much for one day.

Chapter Thirty Seven

I hated to admit it, but Flori had made more sales in the half hour that I’d spent at the police station than I had made all month. Of course, it didn’t come close to making my first down payment on my furnace but it was a start.

One other matter bothered me. How was I going to make any payments without all those stolen items to sell? If they didn’t belong to Beulah, I wouldn’t have anything. If it were stolen property, the true owners would be searching for it.

I sat at my kitchen table that night, having a cup of tea with one of my cats curled up on my lap, and tried to figure out alternative ways of heating. I’d been thinking that perhaps the best plan was just to set the whole place on fire, when the doorbell rang.

It took a few seconds to figure out what the sound meant as no one in Parson’s Cove ever rings the doorbell. Most of us have one but I’m not sure why. Perhaps, it makes us feel that we’re not totally backward and isolated from the rest of the world–as if it’s more sophisticated to touch a button with your finger than to bang the door with your fist. Or, maybe it’s for decoration. I had mine put in because Flori insisted.

Since no one in town ever rings the doorbell (unless there’s been a death in the family or some other very serious business), it meant that whoever was on the other side of my door was not from Parson’s Cove. I knew of only three strangers in town. The first two were behind bars and they wouldn’t be ringing the bell, they’d be sneaking in, in the dead of the night, with guns. Or, some other type of weapon.

The other was Captain Maxymowich.

I jumped up. The cat flew off, squawking in protest. I quickly cleared off the table, putting my dirty dishes in the sink and covering them with a tea towel. There was no time to check my face or hair so I ran my fingers through my hair, rubbed my lips together to make them redder and gave my cheeks a pinch. That’s the best I could do on such short notice. At least, I was fully clothed.