Vintage Whispers (A Cozy Retirement Mystery Book 1) (7 page)

Vintage Whispers was a quaint shop with enough furniture to create a good variety of themed nooks and crannies. Every corner told a story. Each space held a promise. Quality today from yesterday’s finest or a gift for tomorrow, a present for loved ones.

They decorated a tree for all seasons, sold books for all ages, and played music from every decade. They even managed to stock a pretty good selection of old rock-n-roll forty-fives and eight-track tapes from Patsy Cline.

“Perhaps now is our time,” Mary Louise said, joining her friends and sitting on her favorite burgundy settee. With carved ebony wood and soft velvet covering the cushions, she relaxed but mentally debated the possibility of saying what needed to be said. “Every opening eventually has a closing.”

“Mr. Taylor’s favorite quote,” Pearl said, a faraway look in her eyes. “He was a fine man. Wasn’t he?”

“He was indeed,” Opal said, returning the coffee pot to the carafe. “And he was intuitive.”

“Yes,” Mary Louise said, trying to force the sorrow out of her voice. “I think that’s why I always dreaded the day when we’d talk about closing the store. He shut down his business on a Sunday. He died the following Thursday.”

“He was also a hundred and four years old,” Pearl said, nodding rapidly. “He was due a death.”

“Pearl, he was not a hundred and four.” Opal sighed dramatically. “Unbelievable.”

“He was. Ask Denise down at the Five and—”

“You only visit the Five and Dime to gossip.” Opal held up her hand. “Speaking of which, we can’t waste time talking. We don’t know how long it will take to find what we’re looking for and we have a lot of territory to cover. We need to go over this place with a fine-toothed comb.”

“Might be easier to just use our fingers.”

It took a minute to figure out what Pearl was talking about. “If anything looks suspicious, give us a shout. We’ll vote on whether or not it’s anything significant.  We may be Johnny B’s only hope of freedom.”

“What makes you think so?” Pearl asked.

“If Oscar’s wife had something to do with his death then we need to know so Sheriff Littleton can look at all options before booking Johnny. There must be a reason why Oscar’s wife suddenly decided to shop with us so soon after his death.”

“I thought about that on the way over,” Pearl said. “I sat with Clarence at the Bingo Bonanza and –”

“Pearl, please say you didn’t tell him we were sneaking out.” Mary Louise held her breath. With Pearl, anything was possible.

She looked sheepish. “He didn’t know we were sneaking out.”

“Pearl.” Opal deadpanned.

“Okay so I might have told him we were headed over here to unpack a shipment. It’s not like I said we were looking for a murder weapon.”

“Only because you forgot about that small detail.” Thank goodness.

“We’re looking for clues,” Mary Louise said, wishing she didn’t sound like one of those amateur sleuths on the Days of Mystery Channel. “And we won’t find them sitting on our tails.”

“Up and at ‘em, girls,” Opal said. “Let’s start in the back and work our way to the front. No stone left unturned. All rocks pushed aside. We have to sweep the shop thoroughly.”

Pearl hurried to the storeroom. She returned with dustpan and broom. “Ready when you are.”

“What are you doing?”

“You heard her. She said we have to sweep.”

“I meant…” Opal stopped abruptly and moved her lips, apparently cursing under her breath. “Tell you what. I’ll grab the broom and you find the records in the attic.”

Pearl jumped once, grabbed the string on the pull-down stairs, and watched as they unfolded before her. “That’s a better idea since I know the date we’re looking for. Besides, my hips are small and I can fit up there without bumping against anything.”

Mary Louise groaned. “Guess we both deserved that.”

“No, that was for Opal. She’s in one of her moods tonight.”

Pearl crawled up the ladder and Opal said, “Anything else you may have mentioned to Clarence?”

Pearl looked down at them. “Why? Is he a suspect?”

“Of course not,” Opal replied.

Pearl’s gaze met Mary Louise’s and she quickly said, “I don’t think so either but we don’t want anyone at the retirement community looking for us.”

“Well in that case, I’d better tell you the rest of it.” Pearl carefully turned around and sat on one of the steps. “I might have casually mentioned that Mrs. Jackson’s death was good for business. I told him that the shop had never been busier.”

Opal screeched. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I did. It was the polite thing to do so I said we appreciated her death business as much as we had appreciated her lifetime of loyalty.”

Mary Louise closed her eyes. Pearl had gotten worse as she’d grown older. Whatever came to mind flew out of her mouth without so much as a hitch.

“It was a real compliment, I thought. Clarence did too. He even mentioned how long it took to reach our checkout counter that day—March19
th
—and how everyone was so nice to remember Samantha with their gifts and flowers.”

“So he suspects we’re looking into Oscar’s death, I take it?” Mary Louise had hoped they could keep that little tidbit quiet. They weren’t exactly officers of the law and they certainly didn’t have any credentials to suggest they were capable of solving a mystery, if in fact a mystery existed. Perhaps Oscar’s wife and the authorities knew the location of Oscar’s final resting place. 

“Oh no, not at all.” Pearl beamed. “I know when to keep a secret.” She started crawling up the ladder again. “You girls know me. I can be very tight-lipped.”

“When?” Opal asked.

“Very funny,” Pearl muttered.

“So you told him we were unpacking boxes?” Mary Louise asked.

“Yes.” Pearl paused and glanced over her shoulder. “But I gotta tell you, it wasn’t easy keeping quiet about this. Clarence still gets all choked up about his wife’s passing.”

“Samantha was a good woman,” Mary Louise said, recalling how she used to bring them chicken salad sandwiches in a picnic basket. “She’ll be missed.”

Opal looked perplexed. “I still don’t recall seeing Clarence on that particular day.”

“It’s been a while.”

“But I would’ve remembered a grieving widower,” Opal said. “A man doesn’t typically go to his wife’s favorite store right after she passes. He should’ve been planning her funeral.”

Pearl disappeared over the top of the ladder. A few moments later, the floorboards creaked as she made her way to the back of the attic where the records were stored.

“Don’t you think it’s odd? Clarence and Samantha shopped with us on a regular basis and the day after Samantha dies, he comes to the store. Oscar’s wife never shopped here and she stops in on the day of her husband’s death?”

“You’ve mentioned the latter once or twice,” Opal said. “Maybe Pearl’s right. Perhaps they needed to be around other people. Clarence couldn’t have been surprised by Samantha’s passing. She’d battled cancer for more than a decade. And they spent a lot of time downtown, visiting with merchants and enjoying their days together.”

“True. He’s the type who might want to retrace their last steps together.”

“Or cover his tracks?” Pearl suggested, backing out of the attic with bundled paperwork stuffed under her arm. “Clarence was here that day all right. And wait until you see what he bought.”

Mary Louise turned to Opal. “I thought you said you would’ve remembered if he had purchased something that day?”

“She didn’t wait on him. You did.” Pearl thrust a pile of documents in her direction.

Accepting them, she pulled a detailed receipt free of the rubber band. The first invoice showcased Clarence’s name and her initials. “He bought a shovel from the 18
th
century and a decorated cinderblock compliments of Riverside Daycare. He also purchased an ax, no significant features noted. Probably the one he’s using out at the community.”

Pearl handed over another receipt. “Wait until you see what Oscar’s wife bought. For a grieving widow, Kelly planned to do a lot of work and I’m guessing she had some help.”

Chapter Six

“Guess I was wrong about Mr. Jackson. He didn’t take one of those ‘I’m remembering you’ strolls. Not that man.” Pearl shook her finger at them. “I knew it when I saw him taking out his frustrations on that poor tree. Man has killer instincts, a murderer’s swing.”

Opal opened an overhead bin next to the refrigerator. After moving aside the coffee caddy and condiments, she stood on her tiptoes and grabbed a pack of promotional flashlights. The small container tilted over and white sugar packs scattered about. Frustrated, she scooped up the tiny squares and stuffed them in the red and blue container. “For crying out loud, what are you talking about now? I thought you had a good time at bingo.”

“This has nothing to do with playing games. I’m talking about Clarence. Clarence Jackson.” As if they needed clarification. She grabbed the receipt and waved it around like a prize. “This is proof and I’m showing it to Sheriff Littleton.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Mary Louise snapped, accepting the small flashlight Opal offered. It doubled as a bottle opener which probably explained why their emergency stash was low. They’d handed them out freely after restoring an old soda pop machine.

After killing the kitchen lights, Opal aimed a yellow beam at Pearl. “So now your new bingo buddy is a tree-killing, ax-swinging, dirt-pushing, wife-burying bad guy?”

“Yes.” She looked saddened by the description. “I think so.”

Opal slapped her hand against her leg. “Oh for crying out loud!”

“I wish you’d hurry up and do it! That’s the second time you’ve mentioned it.” Pearl narrowed her eyes on Opal. “Let me go find a box of tissues.”

Opal blew out a frustrated breath and walked away. Mary Louise thumbed through the paperwork until she ran across another purchase from Kelly Leonardo and her blood ran cold. “Opal, you’ll want to see this.”

She peered over her shoulder. “What’s it say? I don’t have my reading glasses.”

“She bought the old laundry tub, decorative cinderblocks—apparently everyone purchased at least one of those while we had them—an authentic washboard, an old turn-of-the-century pitchfork like the one that’s hanging over the farm and garden section now, and an ancient garden set.”

“The cinderblocks don’t concern me. I mean, we could overreact and talk to Sheriff Littleton and see if they want to drag the river but seeing as we sold those blocks to pretty much every young mom in town, that’s probably a dead end. Guess the daycare passed out a letter so everyone would know where to purchase them. We sold out within the first two hours.”

Mary Louise shuffled through the day’s business and quickly verified that nearly all the morning customers had purchased one or two cinderblocks in support of the local daycare’s craft project. Three and four-year old kids had painted them. Some had one or two dots. Others sported signs of true paint-dumps or a splash of color here or there. Basically, the customers either bought the cinderblocks because they needed them for something else anyway or they simply wanted to donate ten dollars for a good cause. 

“So what do you make of it?” Pearl crossed her thin arms. “Think all these people had something to do with Oscar’s death and they were helping her weight him down or—”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the ‘or’ this time, Pearl. Now let’s go, girls. We’ve had a long day and I want to get this behind us so we’ll know if we have anything to worry about or not.”

“I agree. Enough chatter about who did what. Let’s see if we can find anything else that would suggest Oscar’s wife was here for a more sinister reason.”

“We already have the proof,” Pearl said, trailing her.

“At best it might be called circumstantial evidence. And at worst, Sheriff Littleton might decide you belong in a psych ward for carelessly traumatizing a poor widow who now has to support her children on an artist’s salary.”

“If Oscar was as successful as everyone thinks, he was probably worth more alive than dead.”