Slip and Go Die (A Parson's Cove Mystery) (19 page)

Flori was trying to be very patient with me.

“So,” she said, twisting some of her bright orange hair around her finger, “why was it you were out at Beulah’s? I don’t think you quite explained all that to me.”

“There’s nothing really to explain. I thought for one thing, it might be a good idea to take my car out for a drive. It’s not good for it to sit in the garage for such a long time like that. Mike was telling me I should take it out on the highway once in awhile. You know, something to do with getting rid of carbon or something.”

“And the other thing?”

“What other thing?”

Her eyebrows went up again. “The real reason you went out to Beulah’s?”

I looked over at my best friend. After all these years of familiarity, she knows what I’m thinking or planning on doing, better than I do myself sometimes. Although I have to admit, as I watched her twirling her hair, I still haven’t figured out the red hair thing. When she reached the ripe old age of fifty, Flori decided to color her hair auburn. That was okay for awhile but now, because she was undoubtedly gray or white underneath, the auburn had slowly lightened over the years into a bright orange. I have learned, however, not to say anything; she’s very touchy about the subject.

Personally, I think my short silver hair is lovely and is a sign of wisdom.

“The real reason?” I took another big bite of pie, chewed, swallowed and reached for my coffee cup. That was about as long as I could postpone the inevitable. Flori glared at me.

“Why do you think I went out, Flori?” Maybe I could delay it a few seconds longer.

“Oh, I know why; you thought that maybe the crooks who stole all of Beulah’s things, stored them out at her place. After all, that’s the last place anyone would look.” She grinned. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

She had a very wise look on her face. I could never admit to her that I hadn’t for one second even thought such a thing. It did, however, sound like a very good defense for going out there.

I grinned back. “You’re right. It does make sense, doesn’t it? But, it was a good idea to take my car out for a drive, too.”

“Oh, Mabel, you’re so funny.” With that, she hopped off her chair and came over to give me a hug.

“I must get home now. Jake will be wondering where I am. You better go and have a rest. I’m sure you never got much sleep with Reg right there in the room with you.” She shook her head. Flori has many old-fashioned ideas when it comes to men and women. “I still can’t see why you couldn’t have gone and slept in Beulah’s bedroom. I’m sure it had a lock on the door. Imagine having to sleep in the same room with Reg. What will everyone say?”

“I’m sure no one will say anything. Besides, I had a very good sleep. At least, as long as it was.”

Flori gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Shame on you, Flori, for having such a dirty mind. Look at me,” I said.

Flori sat back down and did as I asked; she stared at me.

“Do I look like someone who would be capable of breaking up a happily married couple?”

Flori burst out laughing.

“Okay,” I said, as she proceeded to gasp for air and wipe tears from her eyes, “you don’t have to laugh that much.”

She was still giggling as she went out the door.

Mike phoned to tell me that I wouldn’t get my car until the next day. There were too many of the main arteries to be opened up; secondary roads wouldn’t be started until all the important ones were cleared.

That was all right with me; I wasn’t planning to do any more driving until spring anyway.

I had such an urge to go to my shop. The problem was that I knew I couldn’t face all those empty shelves. I also couldn’t face watching as half the people in Parson’s Cove came and peeked in the window. Maybe next week I’d see if Flori would come and help me put all my items back on the shelves. It would be a big job; I’d packed everything in boxes and they sat, piled to the ceiling, in the back room. I had to face reality: Beulah’s wonderful knickknacks, the ‘junk’ that was going to pay for my new furnace, were never going to be returned. All I could do was hope that the people of Parson’s Cove would feel so sorry for me that they’d rush over to buy everything in sight. Now that was dreaming in Technicolor.

Right now, there was only one thought that dominated my mind–taking a nap. I don’t remember ever being able to nap on a weekday or Saturday afternoon. Well, perhaps, as an infant. I’m sure that as soon as I could walk, my parents had me down at the store, filling shelves. All I’d ever done was dream about it! At least now one of my dreams could come true. It took a few minutes for me to decide where I should indulge in this fantasy–the living room sofa or my bed. Since I’d spent most of the night sleeping in a living room, I decided to curl up in my bed, under my down-filled duvet. I’m still not used to calling it a ‘duvet.’ All my life I called it a featherbed. Flori insisted that I start using a more up-to-date term.

I shut the blinds, crawled under my featherbed and closed my eyes. Before I fell asleep (which took all of four and a half minutes), I could hear three of my cats starting to purr; one was on the pillow by my head, one was at the foot of the bed and the other, on the chair by the window. At this moment, life was good. I wished that I never had to think about anything more.

When next I opened my eyes, the room was dark. The cats were still asleep. I sat up but felt dizzy and more tired than when I’d first lain down, so I closed my eyes and snuggled back under. Somewhere, obviously in the kitchen (the only place where I have one), I could hear the phone ring. There was no way that I could reach it in time and besides, I had no desire to talk to anyone anyway. My brain was too numb. At that moment, it occurred to me why napping in the afternoons isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be; you feel like crap when you finally wake up.

After twenty minutes, I felt like a human being again and went downstairs. The answering machine was blinking. It was probably Flori checking to see if I was taking a nap. Before I did anything else, I fed my starving cats their second meal of the day. They seemed to have recovered from their one night alone but I was still trying to compensate. I was pleased that my furniture wasn’t scratched, my curtains weren’t shredded and the kitty litter wasn’t spread all over my pantry floor.

The last thing I felt like doing was making a meal for myself so I opened a can of chicken noodle soup and popped two slices of pumpernickel bread in the toaster. While I was waiting for the bread to toast and the soup to heat, I pushed the button on the answering machine.

It wasn’t Flori; it was a man’s raspy voice.

This is your first warning, Wickles; you better learn to mind your own business. If you start meddling in things that don’t concern you, your life won’t be worth two plug nickels. You got that? We know where that good friend of yours, Flori Flanders, lives. You tell anyone about this and the next time you see Flori, you won’t even recognize her. You go to the cops and Charlie Thompson will never see the light of day. Just to let you know that we mean business, check out your little store tonight. Have a wonderful life, Mabel Wickles.

Chapter Twenty Five

I stood staring at my answering machine for about ten minutes. I’m not sure what I was expecting or waiting for. Maybe the blinking red light sort of hypnotized me. I heard my soup boiling on the stove but I couldn’t move. My numbness was eventually replaced with smoldering anger. It seemed to start somewhere around my feet and work its way up. By the time it reached my head, I felt like I might explode. How dare this person (‘person’ was too good a word) threaten me like that? How dare he threaten my two friends? And, he was piling all this on my shoulders? How dare he!

I looked at the clock. It was almost seven. It had been dark now for about half an hour. What did this creep mean when he said ‘tonight?’ Did that mean they had already been to the store? What sort of scene would greet me? All the windows shattered? My shelves smashed? Blood spattered all over the walls? Oh, no! My furnace stolen? Surely, no one would stoop that low. I hit the button and listened to it again. Whoever it was, sounded very familiar with me. The only problem was he didn’t sound familiar to me. I stuck my head right down to the tape and replayed it. No, I didn’t recognize the voice at all.

I remember reading about background sounds; some mysteries are solved that way. I listened again. There was nothing–no train whistles, no police sirens, no voices.

I grabbed my coat and slipped on my boots and mittens. There was a chance that I could get there before they did or perhaps if I were really lucky, catch them in the act. After all, it had just turned dark. This was Parson’s Cove’s Main Street. Surely, they wouldn’t try anything in the daylight. Not, unless I was dealing with a bunch of seasoned criminals. Could the Mafia be involved in this?

They must be desperate to threaten to harm Flori and Charlie. How could anyone want to hurt the two most innocent people in the world? Bullies, that’s what they were. Bullies.

How could I be a threat to them? They had all the stolen goods. Why didn’t they just disappear? Somehow, I’d done something to touch a nerve. Trouble was, I had no idea what I’d done.

Although the storm had blown itself out, there was cold Arctic air close behind. By the time I’d reached the back door of my shop, every wrinkle on my face was frozen in place. I turned the knob and slipped inside. To my right, I could hear the now familiar purr of the new furnace. The room was toasty and dark. I stood by the door and listened. The furnace stopped. No banging, no shuddering. I had to keep this furnace. Even though I hadn’t claimed it as my own for very long now, I was getting attached.

There were no sounds of any kind except the occasional creak in the walls. The furnace started up again. I stood for a moment longer. Still, I heard nothing but that reassuring soft hum. I was all alone.

I made my way slowly to the front, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. After sixty years of walking through this back room, I could do it with my eyes shut. Or, in the dark. Either one.

The closer I got to the front, the cooler the air seemed to be. In fact, it felt quite crispy. Surely, I didn’t need all new heating ducts too. If that were so, I’d be indebted to Bob Crackers for the rest of my life, if I wasn’t already. When I reached the doorway to the front of the store and pulled the curtain aside, I felt like I was outside in the back lane again.

And no wonder! My front door was wide open. Whom was I dealing with here? A bunch of stupid teenagers? This wasn’t much of a scare tactic: walking past my store and pushing the door open. Big deal! If they thought that would scare me off, they had another thought coming.

All of a sudden, it dawned on me that it wouldn’t have been all that easy. The front and back doors had both been locked. I’d made sure of that the last time I’d been here. I’d just now finished unlocking the back door. The only other person who had a key was Flori. This was beginning to make me a bit nervous. No local teenager would be able to pick the lock to the front door. At least, I was sure none from Parson’s Cove would be clever enough to do it. The only person who might be capable would be Scully but he was a deputy. Everyone knew he’d given up all his evil ways long ago. At least, the serious evil ways.

I stood still and watched the inside door as it moved slightly back and forth, gently hitting the shelf behind it with each gust of wind. The storm door was wide open, banging against the outside wall. (One of these days, I was going to have to put a spring on that door so it would automatically swing shut.) Was there someone hiding outside now? Or, behind one of the counters? The room was quite light from the street lamp outside but there were many hiding places. I guess the question was: who could stay hidden the longest? The jerk or me?

The curtain concealed all of my body, except for my eyes (and forehead and perhaps, a bit of hair), so I waited.

I stood there for what seemed an eternity. Flori claims that I have little patience. The ‘eternity’ may have been three minutes. I was just about to come out from behind the curtain to close my door when I heard the crunch of someone walking in the snow. When it’s deadly cold in the winter, no one in Parson’s Cove walks downtown at night unless there’s some emergency. Even then, it would be doubtful. Most folks would feel that whatever it was could wait until morning when the sun was out and the temperature more moderate. Or, more than likely, they’d just hope that by morning there wouldn’t be an emergency anymore.

(I know that’s not a good attitude to have. I’ve often thought that if I fell on the ice and couldn’t get up, I might have to lie there until sunrise. Imagine someone looking out their living room window, seeing me stretched out on the ice with a broken leg, and saying: “There’s Mabel Wickles lying out there in a heap. Must have busted a leg or something. Then, turning to her husband, “Think we should go out and help?” “Depends. What’s the temperature?” “Nearly twenty below.” “Nah, we’ll check her out in the morning. Be warmer then.”).