Slip and Go Die (A Parson's Cove Mystery) (23 page)

“You did? I thought you always said that you never wanted to be married.”

“You’re right. I mean, who would I catch after you caught Jake?”

Flori burst out laughing. In Flori’s eyes, there was no one quite like Jake. I shared that sentiment but in a different way.

“Do you want me to look for someone for you? Jake does have a couple of bachelor friends from the city.”

That sobered me up.

“No, whatever you do, Flori, do not look for a husband for me.”

I picked up a pillow, gave it a punch, shut my eyes and settled down to sleep. Flori tiptoed out of the room. In a few minutes, I heard the door open and shut. As soon as she was gone, I got up to lock the door. To be on the safe side, I shoved a kitchen chair under the knob. Four cats came rushing over and wanted to go outside.

“You’re not going out. It’s too cold and I’m not going to get up to let you in.”

I guess they thought I was joking because they swarmed around my legs and kept up their pitiful cries all the way back into the living room.

“There’s a killer out there someplace. You want him to catch you and shove you down into a hole in the lake?”

That seemed to get their attention because all four scurried off in different directions.

“Scaredy cats,” I muttered.

I slept most of the day. Several times the phone rang, but I was sleeping so soundly, I wasn’t sure if it was for real or just part of my dream. The only reason that I’d agreed to buying an answering machine in the first place was to please Flori. I wished I could unplug it but it was attached right to the phone and I had no idea how to shut the stupid thing off.

It was almost four when I decided it was time to get up. My stomach was growling. The cats were anxious to have their dinner, too.

There were three messages on my machine. I held my breath, my heart racing, as I pushed the red button.

The first one was from Esther Flynn: “I’ve been over to the store three times this morning and it’s still locked. When do you plan on opening? It doesn’t look to me as though you’re all that concerned about paying for that furnace of yours. Remember, I warned Reg about you. You can’t be trusted with anything, Mabel Wickles.”

The second was from Myrtle Crackers: “Hi, Mabel. I was wondering if you happened to see Bob’s gloves over at your store. He’s lost them someplace. I told him that’s the last time we spend money on expensive work gloves. If you find them, give me a call. I’ll be home; it’s too darn cold to go anywhere. Bye now.”

The third one was from Charlie Thompson: “Come to my house. Tonight. ”

Chapter Thirty Two

It was dark by seven-thirty. I shut off all the lights in the house and sat, waiting. At eight-thirty, I slipped out my front door. Well, not exactly ‘slipped’; it took all the strength I had to shove the door through the snow on my step. If my enemies were keeping an eye on me, as I was sure they were, they would be expecting me to escape out the back door. There it would be easy to grab me. No one would be close to rescue me or hear my pathetic cries for help. There were high hedges filled in with snow along everyone’s property line. They could drag me over to Krueger’s, take me into the basement to murder me and that would be the last anyone would ever see of me again. At least, in the front, there was a street light that might discourage them to some degree.

Charlie’s message frightened me. If only he had a phone. It could very well be a trap. They would get me over to Charlie’s and then take both of us out on the lake. But, I had to find out for sure.

Charlie lived in a little shack at the end of a street. The town looked after him. His parents died when he was about ten. He’d lived with different families through the years. They’d seen to it that Charlie was clothed, fed and periodically sent to school. Once in awhile, he would get terrible headaches and stay in his shack for days in the dark. Some folks were afraid of him and wanted the mayor and town council to put him into some kind of institution. But, Charlie belonged to Parson’s Cove. No one would ever change that.

I walked down Main Street, staying in the light as much as possible. When I got to my store, I stopped and looked in. Everything was dark inside but I could see that my shelves were still full. I guess no one wanted to steal my junk.

I looked across the street and up at Pattie’s windows. There was a light on. I wondered whom she had seen: was it the same three people that I’d watched going into Krueger’s? Who was the black person? Was he the one who’d phoned me and broken into my store? The one who’d shone that flashlight in my face? The problem was–I didn’t know any black men. Why and how would he know so much about me?

The last half a block to Charlie’s was darker. The farther a person gets from Main Street, the farther apart the street lights are. I have yet to figure out the reasoning behind that.

As I neared his shack, I decided it might be best if no one saw me so I tried walking close to the fences. The problem was that with so much snow piled up, there was only a narrow path down the middle of the sidewalk; it was snow-packed and slippery. Snow had drifted so high that some of the fences weren’t even showing at all.

I could see car headlights coming down the street behind me. Drat! I went down on my knees and sprawled on the path, my belly on the ground, my nose in the snow. The snow was high enough on both sides so that no one would see me. The car drew closer and slowed down. I could hear the passenger side window going down.

“You all right, Mabel?” someone yelled.

It was Mutt Mitchel.

I lifted myself up off the snow.

“Yep. Just thought I’d lost a dollar, that’s all.” I bent down so I could see him.

“Want a ride home?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“What’re you doing out here in the dark anyway?”

“Just getting my evening constitutional, Mutt.”

He shook his head, rolled the automatic window up, and drove off.

I ran the rest of the way to Charlie’s place.

Darkness engulfed the yard and house. The only street light was about a half a block away. I used my imagination to make a path around the side of the house and ended up with a boot full of snow.

I found the back step by tripping over it and almost landing on my face. It took a second to get oriented again before I tapped on the old wooden door. The night was frigid, dark and silent. My tapping sounded like someone pounding on a set of Indian drums. No one answered. I tapped again.

Nothing.

Was I too late? What would happen if they took Charlie? Would he be so fortunate and be found this time? A feeling of panic poured over me.

I opened the storm door and knocked on the inside door.

Just as I raised my hand to try again, the door slowly swung open.

“Charlie?” I whispered.

“Yeah.”

He held the door open wider and I slipped in.

This was the first time I’d ever been in Charlie’s house. Perhaps, the first time anyone in Parson’s Cove had been. The kitchen was in darkness except for a candle burning on the table that made it feel warm and cozy. The room smelled like cinnamon and apple pie.

“Charlie,” I gasped. “Your kitchen is so cute!” Everything looked miniature, from the fridge and stove to the compact white cupboards. “Where’d you get those cupboards?”

Even with only the faint glow from the candle, I could see that he was blushing.

“Made them.”

“You made them?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t nothing.”

I walked over to have a better look. The cupboards were whiter than any white I’d ever seen. The countertop was blue and, unlike mine, it was free of clutter. There was the faint smell of bleach by the sink.

“Would you like to sit down, Mabel?”

“Oh, yes.” I’d been so mesmerized by the cleanliness of the whole room, I’d almost forgotten Charlie, standing there watching me.

He pulled out a chair and I sat down. He sat across from me. The candle was in the center, flickering contentedly while sending out whiffs of cinnamon smoke. I’d never seen this side of Charlie before. In fact, I’m sure no one in Parson’s Cove had seen it.

“Charlie, if you keep your house so neat and tidy, why do you always wear those same old clothes every day?”

He shrugged.

I guess he didn’t have an answer to that either.

“Why did you call? Are you in some kind of trouble?” I asked.

“The big black man. He’s after me. Said that he would kill me.”

“Is he the one who took you out to the fish shack?”

He nodded.

“Why is he here in Parson’s Cove, Charlie? Do you know?”

He nodded.

“You know?”

He nodded.

“Can you tell me?”

He reached over and picked up a tiny crumb. Personally, I hadn’t even seen it. He got up, walked over to a waste basket and carefully placed it inside.

He sat down again.

“Can you tell me why those men are still here, Charlie?” I repeated. “Since they’ve already stolen all of Beulah’s things, why don’t they leave town?” (I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d found some of those stolen items).

“Not Beulah’s.”

I looked over at him. He closed his eyes. Sometimes that means he’s quit talking but you never know with Charlie. He isn’t the most predictable person in the world.

“What do you mean? You mean that all that stuff that was stolen from Beulah’s house, didn’t belong to her? Is that what you’re saying?”

He nodded. His eyes were still shut.

“Who does it belong to?”

“Big black man.”

“I don’t get it. Why would he steal his own stuff?”

His eyes opened for a second.

“Bad man. Very bad man.” His eyelids closed.

Charlie started to rock back and forth. I was making him nervous. This was, after all, the first time he’d let someone into his home. This might have been one of the longest conversations he’d ever carried on with anyone, especially a woman. Charlie, I realized, could only move in baby steps. This would have to be pursued another day. The only problem was–did Charlie have that much time?

“Do you want to tell me another time?”

He nodded and rocked.

“Charlie, don’t go outside, okay? Stay in your house and don’t open the door for anyone. Except me.”

I let myself out and hurried home. The street in front of my house was empty, not even one parked car. I slipped in the front door, left the lights off and prepared for my night watch.

Chapter Thirty Three

I’m in good shape for my age but I do have a touch of arthritis in my lower spine. This meant that standing bent over the sink for hours would leave me crippled for at least three days. There was one way to solve the problem: I put a pillow on the countertop, sat on it and put my feet in the sink. I believe my cats thought it was a big joke as each one walked over, looked up at me, and grinned.

I needed some light so instead of a candle on the kitchen table, which I thought might make shadows on the blind, I put a candle in my pantry and left the door open a crack.

It was almost ten. I peeked through the blinds. Nothing was happening at the house yet. I expected things would pick up after midnight. It would be foolish, however, to let down my guard. I would check every five minutes until dawn. If nothing happened, I would set up my vigil the next night.

Flori, of course, had phoned while I was at Charlie’s house. By the third message, she was starting to sound panicky so it was a good thing I got home before she sent Jake over. I called and proceeded to bawl her out for waking me up so many times. I hate lying to Flori but it was for her own good. That nasty man had threatened to hurt her, too. If he could almost kill Charlie, who was as innocent as a newborn, he certainly wouldn’t hesitate to do something to Flori.