Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 03 - The Ladybug Song (2 page)

Chapter 3

“Ladybug
never hurt or harmed anybody,” said Phyllis, pleased after Isabel and Alma agreed to assist her. “She just went about her personal affairs in her quiet,
efficient way. That’s all there is to it. What I’d like to know is what
possible motive could her murderer have had?”

“If we’re
dealing with an irrational person, shaking out a motive that makes sense might
be too optimistic to hope for,” said Isabel.

“That
would be a disappointment,” said Phyllis.

“What
Isabel means is we’ll go after identifying who the culprit is,” said Alma. “Sheriff Fox can shake out the motive.”

“After
all, he is the law enforcement professional as he likes to point out,” said
Isabel.

Phyllis had
declined their offer of the iced tea. Wearing her salmon pink cardigan sweater
buttoned up the front, she gave a shiver, reminding Alma of how they kept the
indoors temperature on the cool side. She adjusted the wall thermostat. The
natural gas furnace in the laundry room woke up and roared away. In a few
minutes, the toasty drafts of air would blow down from the ceiling vents and chase
out the chill.

Isabel
nodded her approval but with regret. Summer had come to its definite end once
the gas furnace cut on and ran for the first time to heat their house. With winter
so close, she still had not stocked up on her to-be-read books.

“Nobody
should get away with murder,” said Phyllis. “I realize we’ll have a tough go of
it since wishy-washy Sheriff Fox is still up in the air about the cause of Ladybug’s
death.

Alma did a so-what shrug. “That’s no different than our past dealings with him.”

After a respectable
pause, Isabel changed the topic. “Since that’s settled and we are all here, is
anybody up for a friendly game of—”

“Don’t
you dare say Scrabble,” said Alma. “We just signed up to do loads of sleuthing
for Phyllis, and we should get started on it.”

“I’ll be
happy to play a game with you,” said Phyllis. “I could use the distraction to take
my mind off Ladybug’s death.”

Isabel took
her first step toward the china cabinet where she kept their Scrabble game box.
She felt the force of Alma’s stare and glanced over her shoulder. Alma, hands placed on hips, made it plain how she disapproved. Isabel shifted her sight to
Phyllis who smiled with a casual shrug.

“It would
appear Alma is all set to go,” she said.

“Our fun
and games should come only after our sleuthing is completed,” said Alma.

“You are
right, of course.” The acquiescent but disappointed Isabel sat back down along with
the other ladies.

“Is
Petey Samson off taking a nap on your bed?” asked Phyllis, looking around for
the part beagle and part terrier mutt who was usually the center of attention.
Isabel had given him the two names despite Alma’s opinion it sounded a little pretentious.

“We took
him to our vet for surgery,” replied Isabel.

“Is it for
something major?” asked Phyllis.

“Nothing
that is too bad,” replied Alma. “Petey Samson is undergoing anesthesia, so Dr. Ruffian
wants to play it safe and keep him overnight for observation. There’s no call
to fret because Petey Samson will soon return full of his old energy.”

“He
moved right in and made himself the top dog,” said Phyllis.

Alma snorted at trying to stifle her outburst of laughter.

It was
Isabel’s turn to give Alma a sharp look. “He’s a well-mannered pooch regardless
of what the other lady of the manor thinks. I’ve spent a lot of time training
him, and my diligence has paid off.”

“Is that
why he still greets us in bed with his morning breath and licks our faces? Or
why he sits at the dinner table to eat with us?”

Phyllis smiled.
“I’ve never heard of that. Do you also put out a dinner plate for him?”

“He gets
the red carpet treatment,” said Alma. “Isabel sets his stainless steel dish on
the table’s placemat between her and me. He wears a toddler’s bib tied around
his neck and sits in the chair on top of the phone books where he crunches away
on his dry dog food as we dine. It is quite disconcerting. The next thing you
know he’ll be drinking through a straw and using a pair of chopsticks.”

“Is letting
him eat at the table a good idea?” asked Phyllis. “Dr. Fox would lecture you, saying
it’s a mistake to let your pet develop such habits.”

“Dr.
Isabel says it’s permissible, and so I go along to get along,” said Alma.

“Alma, you know full well I just floated the idea, and we’ve never done it,” said Isabel. “Here
I thought you liked having Petey Samson around for company.”

“I have to
admit I have missed him since he’s been gone,” said Alma.

“He’s so
much more than a pet to us,” said Isabel. “All I want is for him to get back home
well and safe.”

“We can
agree on that much,” said Alma.

“I also want
him back so you’re not too distracted from your pursuit of Ladybug’s killer,”
said Phyllis.

Just then,
Isabel’s cell phone sounded with her ringtone of Charlie Parker playing a snappy
jazz solo on his alto sax. Surprise flashed on her face when she discovered her
caller’s identity. She arched her eyebrows at Alma who knew something was up.

“Hello
there, Sheriff Fox,” said Isabel, looking at Alma. “What is the honor of this telephone
call?”

As she
heard the reason he gave, Isabel’s hazel eyes gleamed with new interest. “Let
me see if I heard you correctly,” she said, repeating it for the benefit of the
other ladies. “You wish to speak with us in your office at our earliest
convenience. May I inquire what the subject of our conference will be?”

“Who
cares?” said Alma. “Fat chance we’ll ever be there.”

He told Isabel.

“You wish
to discuss the peculiar circumstances surrounding the recent demise of Ladybug
Miles,” said Isabel.

He spoke
again during Isabel’s pause.

“How soon
can Alma and I get there?” said Isabel. “I’ll have to check with her, but I believe
she’ll want it to be as soon as possible.”

Isabel’s
prompt accommodation pleased Sheriff Fox.

“Let me
ask you something first,” said Isabel. “What will the tenor of our meeting be?”

Sheriff
Fox’s response left Isabel smiling for the first time during their phone call.
“We’ll meet as colleagues. That is a refreshing change from our previous
dealings. Be looking for us in a few minutes then.”

As
Isabel hung up, the skeptical Alma wrinkled her forehead. “It’s got to be a
trap he’s laying for us,” she said.

  Isabel placated
Alma. “I’m a firm believer in giving people second chances. We’ll go to his
office keeping an open mind and a spirit of cooperation. Who knows? Maybe Sheriff
Fox has seen the light.”

“Maybe
the moon is made of green cheese,” said Alma.

“Come
on, Alma,” said Isabel. “Let’s put our best foot forward.”

“Okay, I
suppose it doesn’t hurt anything to hear what he has to say,” said Alma. “We don’t have to believe him if we suspect he’s up to one of his schemes.”

“He probably
wonders if Ladybug was murdered instead of drowned,” said Isabel. “That is how
we want him to be thinking about her death.”

“As
Ladybug’s best friend, Phyllis is also invited,” said Alma.

“Oh
sure, count me in,” said Phyllis. “I wouldn’t miss this meeting for anything in
the world.”

Chapter 4

  At various
times, Sheriff Fox could be in Isabel’s words a “pill.” Alma once remarked to
Isabel he was all right in his place, but it hadn’t been dug. He’d clashed with
the sisters both times they’d taken on solving a murder investigation. In his peace
officer’s heart, Roscoe Fox admitted with begrudging respect he had benefited
from their meddlesome habits.

They had
not been wrong in figuring out the solution to the two murders and fingering
the guilty perpetrator. How they came to possess this knack and made it look so
effortless stumped him, particularly since the chief law enforcer like him should
have been its recipient. They’d even had newspaper articles published about their
coups, the ink that should have gone to praising his exploits. To the retirees,
it was a hobby, but he could use any publicity he could get to enhance his professional
image.

Isabel
and Alma were fearless. His huffy threats to slap the handcuffs on them and toss
them into prison failed to slow them down. If he did act on his warning and jail
the sisters, he knew how the townies would react. They’d whip themselves all up
and come after him with their torches and pitchforks. He bemoaned how the
sheriff’s job was an elected instead of an appointed position.

He was nervous
about losing his comfortable job plus having to give up his cool sheriff cruiser
with its noisy siren. He liked to flip it on in boyish glee while he was tooling
around town. Since the sisters had recently cracked Ray Burl Garner’s homicide
mystery, Sheriff Fox wanted to ask for their aid to ascertain the facts in the
death of Ladybug Miles.

He knew
Phyllis was going around telling everybody and his uncle that her friend Ladybug
was murdered, and the townies might start believing Phyllis. Furthermore, he
knew she’d gotten Isabel and Alma involved. If they proved Ladybug was murdered,
it made him look incompetent for having called it an accidental drowning. He’d
rather drink ink, but he went ahead and invited Isabel and Alma to his office
where they sat. Phyllis Garner also being there ruffled his feathers.

“Why did
you bring Phyllis?” he asked. “I did not okay it. This is a private discussion held
between us, and she is not welcome to participate in it.”

“Roscoe, let
me remind you of something in case you suffer from selective amnesia,” said Alma. “You came to us looking for help.”

“What
does that have to do with Phyllis being here?” asked Sheriff Fox.

“We are a
package deal,” replied Alma.

“I didn’t
sign up for the package deal.” Sheriff Fox sputtered like a flooded carburetor.
“Our meeting is not a coffee klatch to swap our favorite chocolate chip cookie recipes.”

“I’m more
of a bear claws lady than a chocolate chips cookies lady,” said Alma. “By the way, have you got any iced tea?”

“Do I
look like a waiter?” replied Sheriff Fox. “Now about Phyllis being here—”

“I’ll
just sit and be quiet as a church mouse,” said Phyllis. “How does that sound,
Sheriff?”

Isabel
intervened before Sheriff Fox blew off his wing nut. “Being as Phyllis was Ladybug’s
closest friend, I believe Phyllis has lots of useful insights to offer us.”

“Phyllis
is in to stay, so you better get used to the idea, or the Trumbo sisters walk,”
said Alma. “Now we should press on, shouldn’t we?”

Sheriff
Fox tamped down his disgruntlement. What he did next left him in a fouler mood,
but he was convinced he’d no choice if he expected to get fast results. He used
his clear cop voice. “A peculiar set of circumstances has come to my attention regarding
the recent demise of Ms. Ladybug Miles—”

 “Cut to
the chase,” said Alma, horning in. “Ladybug was murdered. We got that. You want
to catch her killer. We do, too.”

He nodded.
“Exactly so.”

“Roscoe, let’s
be clear on where we stand,” said Isabel. “Did you call us in to formally
request us to consult on Ladybug’s homicide case?”

“No way!”
Sheriff Fox caught his outburst and paused for some throat clearing before he lowered
his voice to a civil tone. “I mean our get-together is unofficial and off the
record. Nothing we discuss can go beyond these office walls and closed door.”

“In other
words, you want us to play your silent helper elves,” said Alma. “We already pretty
much do that.”

“That’s a
cynical way of expressing it,” said Sheriff Fox. “Nonetheless it’s important you
not give out any information to anybody, especially the news reporters.”

“We know
how to keep our mouths shut,” said Alma not appreciating his sneakiness but also
seeing they wouldn’t be butting heads with him. “Is our saying Girl Scout’s
honor good enough for you?”

“It should
be,” replied Sheriff Fox.

“Then get
to the point,” said Alma. “What is your peculiar set of circumstances?”

“For starters,
we found no pocketbook, no beach towel, and no shoes along either shore in the vicinity
where we recovered Ladybug’s dead body. If she went to the Coronet River to go swimming, wouldn’t she have taken along with her personal stuff and left it
behind on the riverbank?”

“Presumably,”
replied Isabel. “Her belongings could’ve been pilfered after she died.”

“Maybe so
but the main thing is I have to be correct,” said Sheriff Fox. “If I decide to rule
Ladybug’s death as an accidental drowning, and it turns out she got the
business, well, that’s not a messy situation I want to confront.”

“How awkward
for you,” said Isabel. She realized the sheriff blowing a call that big would spur
the voters to ask embarrassing questions.
“Is there more tangible evidence leading you to believe
Ladybug was murdered?”

“Water,”
replied Sheriff Fox.

Isabel
almost batted an eyelash. “Water, you say?”

“Water,”
he repeated. “The Coronet River’s level is down from the dry summer we had. Ladybug
didn’t have enough water to swim there, not even to dogpaddle, so I have to consider
the possibility she was previously killed, and her death scene was a rigged one.”

“She
might have swum in the main channel,” said Isabel. “The river’s deepest current
provided her a clear lane to use.”

“Right
now the main channel is a tick mark less than twelve inches deep,” said Sheriff
Fox. “I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants cuffs, and waded into
the water myself. Then I used a yardstick to measure its depth. So unless Ladybug
was an ‘Oz’ munchkin, she wouldn’t be able to swim one stroke there.”

“If
I was her killer, why would I make the homicide appear to be an accidental
drowning?” asked Alma. “I could see how shallow the river is, and my scheme would
backfire. No killer can be that rattlebrained.”

“Perhaps
feeling rushed, he didn’t think to use a yardstick and check the actual depth
of the water as I was smart enough to do,” said Sheriff Fox.

Alma
wanted so badly to roll her eyes.

“Ladybug’s
autopsy will determine if any water is present in her lungs,” said Isabel,
drawing on her book smarts gleaned from a lifetime of reading mysteries. “The
autopsy results will either conclusively prove or disprove your theory.”

“Dr.
Coe is away with his wife Claire on a Caribbean cruise,” said Sheriff Fox. “I can
ill afford to wait until I can locate a different medical examiner to fill in and
perform Ladybug’s autopsy.”

“By
then her killer will be gone,” said Alma.

“Her
killer will be long gone, in point of fact,” said Sheriff Fox.

“So,
what are you going to do?” asked Alma.

Sheriff
Fox had a crafty smile. “You’ve got it backward, Alma. What are
you
sleuths
going to do is the right question to ask.”

“You
are asking a lot of us,” said Alma. “Suppose we sleuths fail to crack the case
with the speed it requires?”

“Then
I’d say the chances are good Ladybug’s killer gets off scot-free,” replied
Sheriff Fox.

“Unacceptable,”
said Phyllis.

“Then
you better get busy doing whatever it is you do so well and get me some results,”
said Sheriff Fox. “I’ll be checking in with you in a day or so.”

“We’ll do
our sleuthing best,” said Isabel. “We also have a large stake in solving her
murder.”

“Then we
have reached an arrangement,” said Sheriff Fox.

“Not so
fast,” said Alma, her words packing a punch. “This time had better not be another
one of your dirty, underhanded tricks.”

“You must
have your town sheriffs mixed up, Alma.” Sheriff Fox did his best to look earnest.
“I don’t have to resort to dirty, underhanded tricks to do my job.”

“Except
for the time you duped Megan to come to your office to give her written statement
for Jake ’s murder, and then you jailed her.”

Megan
Connors was the Trumbo sisters’ grandniece who lived in the same distant city
that their youngest sister Louise did. Megan had left Quiet Anchorage after Sheriff
Fox had falsely arrested and imprisoned her for the murder of her fiancé Jake
Robbins. Isabel and Alma had to enter the fray, investigate the murder, and
reveal the actual killer’s identity. Left heartbroken on top of humiliated,
Megan felt she had no choice but to move away and restart her young life. They
kept in regular touch, and she said she bore no grudges while she seemed
content.

Isabel
and more so Alma held out the hope Megan would feel reconnected to her roots
enough to return to Quiet Anchorage. It would probably take some time for her
change of heart to occur if it ever did. On the other hand, maybe she’d meet a
nice young doctor or lawyer, and they’d start a family where she presently
lived.

“Alma, you’ll find our working relationship will go a lot smoother if you lose your crankiness,”
said Sheriff Fox. “Obviously whatever mistakes have been made in the past can’t
be undone now. What can I say?”

“That you
are sorry you did Megan wrong,” replied Isabel. “I’ll pass it along to her.”

“My apologies
to Megan,” said Sheriff Fox. “There you go. I said it. Are you satisfied?”

“Marginally,”
replied Alma. “Your apology came off as sounding a little too perfunctory and
not contrite enough for me.”

“Tough
noogies because it’s the best I can do,” said Sheriff Fox. “Give me an idea of what
your first move will be.”

Isabel clutched
her pocketbook and stood up from the chair. “We do just what you’d expect from sleuths.
We investigate until we are tired, and we rest up only to do it again. Repeat
as many times as necessary until we achieve the final goal.”

“I’ve
questioned the three-man brain trust seated on Main Street if that tops your to-do
list,” said Sheriff Fox. “As I expected, they were of little or no value to me.”

“You
don’t enjoy the same rapport with them as we do,” said Alma.

“I can hardly
believe that is true,” said Sheriff Fox. “I’m their elected sheriff, and I am
sure they voted for me.”

Alma
bit her tongue.

“There is
one big difference,” said Isabel without a trace of smugness. “We are their longtime
cronies.”

“Every
town sheriff understands how cronyism works,” said Alma.

“Just leave
me and go do your thing,” said Sheriff Fox, pointing a finger at the door
behind them. He thought of something else and added, “My thanks for your help
on this case, too.”

“You’re
quite welcome, Roscoe,” said Isabel.

The cynical
Alma gave Sheriff Fox her humph look.

The last woman
to file out of his office, Phyllis slammed the door closed behind them. It was
obvious she also didn’t like Sheriff Fox and trusted him even less than Alma did.

A nefarious
idea popped into his thoughts. He sat visualizing the face of the suspect he
could charge with murder. The office door banging shut had directed his attention
to Phyllis Garner. The more he thought about it, the more he could see the town
bag lady making the perfect fall gal to take the murder rap. He smiled with a
nod.

Oh yeah,
he was good. All he had to do was to lay the necessary groundwork to make his
arrest of Phyllis stick like flour paste glue. Isabel and Alma would never
catch on to his sneaky trick. He’d diverted their attention to go play his
silent helper elves. Oh yeah, he was
very
good.