Slip and Go Die (A Parson's Cove Mystery) (3 page)

I’d greeted all the cats (noted that they hadn’t trashed my house) and dished out food for them. You’d have thought I’d been gone a month and abandoned them, the way they carried on. Of course, once their bellies were full they acted as if I didn’t even exist. Except for Phil. I try not to have favorites but she and I know our relationship is special. I’m sure there are times when she’s trying her hardest to apologize for not being ‘Phillip.’ She followed me into the living room and jumped up onto my lap. Her whole body rumbled and vibrated as she purred and washed her paws, making a big swing with each paw around her ear and back down to her tongue again.

There was a pot of tea and a big slice of homemade rhubarb pie on the TV tray in front of me. I always make sure and freeze rhubarb pies for the winter. It’s my only memory of spring when the temperature dips below anything that’s even close to humane. This night as I listened to the wind howling around the corners of the house, I was ready to eat the whole pie.

I feel I can get away with it because no matter how hard I try, I never gain any weight. The scale has been stuck on one hundred and two pounds for as long as I can remember. I don’t get taller either so I don’t look too skinny. It does make me feel guilty sometimes though, so when I’m round Flori, I watch what I eat. When we were young, Flori was tall and slender. I guess the weight comes from having all those babies. It doesn’t help that the woman is an amazing cook. Everything she makes has either cream, butter or a pound of sugar in it. Since Jake has retired, I’ve noticed that he has a bit of belly hanging over his belt.

There wasn’t any good news to watch and the weather channel was even more depressing so I shut the television off. I decided to read a book.

At five to nine, Flori called.

“I found out who discovered Beulah,” she said.

“It was Esther Flynn,” I replied, without thinking.

“How did you know?” Her voice had that deflated sound, as it does every time she finds out that she’s the last to know who had the latest baby or who’s pregnant. Flori has a tendency to love knowing something before I do, especially if it’s good juicy gossip.

“Sorry, Flori. Bob Crackers told me.”

“Oh.”

“Now, Flori, why would Esther be out at Beulah’s? You know they were never friends.”

“Of course, they were never friends. Esther doesn’t have any friends, does she?”

“So, why would she be out there?”

“I have no idea. And, how would she get out there? Esther doesn’t even have a driver’s license.” She paused. “You could phone and ask her I guess, couldn’t you? After all, I doubt it’s a big secret.”

“What a wonderful idea, Flori. I don’t know how come I never thought of that.”

I knew that would make her feel better. Actually, the moment Bob told me about Esther, I’d been thinking I should give her a call. The problem is that Esther and I have absolutely no love for each other. We barely tolerate each other. Perhaps, in all the years I’ve lived in Parson’s Cove, (and that goes back to the day that I was born in the very house I live in) I’ve phoned her once or twice. The one time I actually remember is when her chimney was on fire. I wasn’t even going to phone then because most chimney fires just burn themselves out but when some of her shingles started to smolder, I figured I should at least let her know. She made such a fuss about it all, saying I should have called the fire department instead, I told her I should have let her house burn down. In the past fifty or so years, I might have called her a second time but I can’t recall.

“Well, I’d better hang up so you can call. I think Esther and Millicent go to bed early. Make sure you let me know right away what she says, okay?”

Flori hung up and I sat holding the phone. What was I going to say? I should have some excuse for calling. Maybe it would be easier if her daughter, Millicent, answered. On the other hand, it wouldn’t make much difference; they happened to be cut from the same cloth.

I remember when Mr. Flynn escaped. That was the exact word that everyone used too–escaped. It was over thirty years ago now. Millicent had been a child. She had been, however, a very nasty child. Just like her mother before her.

Flori, Esther and I went to school together. Esther picked on me from the very first day. My mother wasn’t too happy when I came home with gum stuck in my hair. Or, when Esther poured her bottle of ink into my pencil case. Or, in high school, when she accused me of cheating and had me expelled. No one could lie and get away with it like Esther Flynn. If it weren’t for Flori’s intervention at times, I’m afraid I might have killed her.

No, no one in Parson’s Cove ever found fault with Chester Flynn for running away.

I dialed. Just reminiscing made me angry.

“Yes?” Esther’s voice, as usual, was nasal, high-pitched and annoying.

“Esther, this is Mabel.”

“Of course, I know that. Don’t you think I would recognize your croaky voice anywhere?” She sniffed. “Besides, I have ‘call display.’ Now, what do you want?”

I didn’t have to see her; I could envision her. She was pursing her lips. It’s something she tends to do a lot when she’s talking to me. Sniff and pucker. Sniff and pucker.

“Umm, I happened to hear that you were the one who found Beulah Henry’s body.”

“So? What concern is it of yours?” Sniff.

“No concern. I was wondering what you were doing out there, that’s all.”

“None of your beeswax.”

I felt like telling her that saying ‘beeswax’ wasn’t cool anymore but I refrained. The trouble with Esther is that half the time she uses words I don’t understand and the other half, she talks like an adolescent. “Okay, can I ask you another question then?”

“Go ahead.” She sniffed. “Maybe I’ll answer, maybe I won’t.”

“That seems fair.” It was taking all the self-control I could muster not to either hang up or use a few choice swear words. “This is all I’m asking–are you sure she slipped on the ice? Was she all alone? Did you see any evidence of someone having been there?”

There was a long silence. My clock ticked forty-three times. I waited. If she were doing this to annoy me, she was succeeding. Right when I was ready to ask if she was still alive, she did her usual thing. She sniffed. At least, she was taking in oxygen.

“That’s three questions. You said you only had one.” Sniff and five seconds silence. “You’re thinking murder again, aren’t you, Mabel?” Her voice suddenly turned high-pitched. “You’re out of your mind. You are the only person in this whole town, no, the whole world, who would dream up something so preposterous. Why would anyone want to slay Beulah? A woman, who unlike you, was clean and pure. I think you’ve spent so much time in the past few years with known criminals that you’re starting to cogitate like one.”  One octave higher: “I’ve a mind to report you to Sheriff Smee this very minute.”

“You don’t want to do that, Esther. Besides, he’s in bed by now and you know what he’s like when someone interrupts his sleep. I’ve done it a few times and it’s not pretty.”

“No, you don’t want me to call because he’d lock you up for sure, wouldn’t he? He could put you in jail for harassing me.”

“I’m not harassing you, you silly old fool. I was curious, that’s all. I was wondering what you were doing up at Beulah’s. That’s not such a strange question to ask. Why are you keeping it such a big secret?”

“Because it’s no one’s business, you silly old fool.” She sniffed. “And, furthermore, you would be the last person in the world to whom I would divulge that information. If that’s all you have to say to me, you can now hang up.” Sniff.

“No, you can now hang up, you silly old fool.”

“I said for you to hang up, Mabel.”

“Nope. You first.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you are the most stubborn infuriating person I’ve ever known.”

The phone went dead.

Well, that didn’t go exactly as I’d planned. There were, however, other ways of finding out what Esther was contriving. Other than torture, that is. I wasn’t quite sure what these ways were yet, but after a good night’s sleep, I would come up with something. One thing I knew: if Esther Flynn was out at Beulah’s, it was only for some self-centered purpose. It wouldn’t be to help an old woman, that’s for sure.

Chapter Four

The next morning the sun shone as if it had never shone a day in its life and was trying to make up for lost time. A person had to put on sunglasses just to look out the window. The world outside was white, white, white–dazzling with trillions of shimmering diamonds. There were snow banks six or seven feet high, stretching across the streets, and up the sides of houses. Grey ribbons of smoke drifted up from chimneys like lazy Indian smoke signals from days gone by. The leafless tree branches drooped and hung low, covered with snow and hoarfrost. It would have looked awe-inspiring and almost poetic if the thermometer outside my kitchen window hadn’t read minus twenty-eight degrees.

One thing was for sure–my walkway was not going to clear itself. I pulled on as many layers of clothing as was physically possible and proceeded to go outside to shovel. Fortunately, the snowdrift by my back door hadn’t spread out; it had only drifted higher. It still made a neat curve around the corner of the house so I was able to open the door.

I stood on my step and surveyed the house and yard behind mine. It was the Krueger house. After the old folks died, their daughter moved to the city and rented out the house every summer. Now it stood, looking cold, forlorn and abandoned. There was a trickle of smoke coming from the chimney. The local real estate company that looked after it, kept the furnace on at a very low heat so the water pipes wouldn’t freeze and explode. They learned that lesson after the first winter.

There wasn’t any other sign of life. Had I imagined seeing someone trudging through the snow to the back door? It was a good thing I’d forgotten to tell Flori. She’s always complaining that I let my imagination run wild; too wild and too often, is what she claims.

Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. First things first, however.

It took all my strength and most of the morning to clear a narrow single pathway from my backyard to the front gate. The air was frigid, still and silent. I could hear Sam Goodfellow, who lives three houses down, huffing and puffing as he cleared his driveway.

“Watch you don’t have a heart attack,” I yelled, when the huffing intensified.

“You better watch it too,” he yelled back. “You ain’t no spring chicken either, Mabel.”

After that, I kept my thoughts to myself and concentrated on the shovel.

By ten, the snow plough had opened Main Street and most of the side streets. The snow left behind on the sidewalk in front of my house was at least six feet high. If they thought I was going to tackle that with my small snow shovel they were sadly mistaken. I’d climb to the top and slide down the other side on my bum, if I had to.

I was sitting and trying to warm up with a hot cup of coffee when Bob phoned.

“I can work on your furnace now, Mabel.”

“You’ve dug Beulah’s grave already?”

“Nope. Ground’s too frozen. Took all morning to clear away the snow. Got the heaters all set up now. It’s gonna take a few days to thaw that ground.”

“Have you heard when the funeral is?”

“Nope. Reg says there’s no rush with the grave. Beulah’s keepin’ nice and cool in the mortuary. ‘Parently they’re having trouble locating her family.”

“That’s because she doesn’t have any. Doesn’t Reg know that?”

“ ’Pears not. If you know anything about her, maybe you ought to give Reg a call.”

“Sounds like a good idea. As long as he doesn’t hang up on me. By the way, the back door of my shop isn’t locked so you can go right in and start on the furnace.”

“Okay. I’ll have a look and give you an estimate before I start the work.”

“Well, that would be nice, Bob. I’d kind of like to know how much this stupid furnace is going to cost me.”

I hung up and phoned the police station.

“Parson’s Cove Police Station. Sheriff Reg Smee speaking. How can I be of assistance?”

“Reg, it’s me. Mabel. Since when did you start answering your phone like that? I thought I had the wrong number for a minute.”