Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 03 - The Ladybug Song Read online

  THE LADYBUG SONG

  An Isabel and Alma Trumbo Cozy Mystery

  By Ed Lynskey

  LICENSE STATEMENT

  Copyright © 2014 by Ed Lynskey and ECL Press. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Other Books By Ed Lynskey

  Private Investigator Frank Johnson Series

  Out of Town a Few Days (short story collection)

  Pelham Fell Here

  The Dirt-Brown Derby

  The Blue Cheer

  Troglodytes

  The Zinc Zoo

  After the Big Noise

  Alma and Isabel Trumbo Mystery Series

  Quiet Anchorage

  The Cashmere Shroud

  The Ladybug Song

  Private Investigator Sharon Knowles

  A Clear Path to Cross (short story collection)

  Other Novels

  Lake Charles

  The Quetzal Motel

  Ask the Dice

  Blood Diamonds

  Topaz Moon

  Outside the Wire

  Skin in the Game

  Other Short Story Collection

  Smoking on Mount Rushmore

  The Ladybug Song

  Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home,

  Fly away home.

  Your house is on fire, and your children are gone,

  All except one,

  And her name is Anne,

  Her name is Anne,

  And she hid under the pudding pan.

  “The Ladybug Song” is a traditional British nursery rhyme, circa 1774. The first American publication of the lyrics occurred in approximately 1865. My research shows Favorite Poems Old and New: Selected for Boys and Girls by Helen Ferris (Doubleday, 1957) is the first collection having its modern version.

  Chapter 1

  After the local authorities recovered Ladybug Miles’s dead body from the Coronet River, Phyllis Garner was reluctant to identify her best friend. Her preference was to remember Ladybug as she had been in life. Nonetheless Phyllis, with Sammi Jo accompanying her, went to the morgue. The attendant had dressed Ladybug in a tacky purple robe, and Phyllis gave him the stink eye. She couldn’t wait to leave after she did her duty. She cried out all of her tears on the way home, and Sammi Jo shed a few, as well.

  One of Phyllis’s fondest memories was the time she and Ladybug had first met in the third grade during lunch period. Ladybug tapped Phyllis on the shoulder and asked if she’d like the other half of Ladybug’s twin-stick Popsicle. Since it was grape, Phyllis’s favorite flavor, she said, “You betcha and thanks.” They soon giggled at each other’s grape purple lips and tongues. Ladybug’s simple act of generosity started their lifetime friendship. Phyllis was now frank in stating her opinion that Ladybug had not died in an accidental drowning.

  “Ladybug was murdered,” said Phyllis who looked on the downhill side of sixty, but she’d only admitted her age to Social Security. “There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

  “I hear you, Aunt Phyllis,” said Sammi Jo, the twentysomething with the open smile, wheat blonde hair styled short, and the athletic build of a women’s lacrosse player. “Sheriff Fox hasn’t come out and said one way or the other about how he thinks she died.”

  They sat on the almost new sofa with the pillows, velvety and turquoise-colored, in Sammi Jo’s efficiency apartment over the town drugstore. She’d painted the walls a tasteful forest green with the trim done in matte white before she moved into her first place. She’d also mounted framed pieces of Amish artwork depicting barnyard scenes and quilt designs on the opposite walls. She’d bought the artwork while on a bus trip to the Amish country in Pennsylvania. Her only quibbles with her digs were its lack of space and the traffic noise created below on Main Street, especially on Friday and Saturday nights.

  Phyllis’s haggard face showed her grief, and she hadn’t worn her customary bag lady wardrobe. The room felt a bit chilly here in mid-October.

  “Sheriff Fox had better get it right,” she said. “Ladybug did not drown while she was swimming in the river. Who else but a penguin would go into it for a dip now?”

  Sammi Jo shrugged. “I imagine the water temperature is still comfortable enough from the summer heat.”

  Phyllis didn’t relent. “Ladybug’s sneaky killer made it appear as if she drowned, but I’m not fooled by it.”

  “If she was murdered, how will you convince Sheriff Fox of it?”

  “Certain physical details will come to light. Does her body show any defensive wounds, for instance?”

  “He’ll notice if any suspicious cuts or abrasions are found on her body.”

  “So you’d like to think until we take into account his dismal track record.”

  “He did better after Isabel and Alma stepped in and helped him investigate the murders of my dad Ray Burl and before that Jake Robbins. They are like a pair of bloodhounds in old lace, not that either sister is a fan of old lace.”

  Phyllis nodded. “Two bloodhounds are just what I need.”

  “Your hope is Isabel and Alma will get busy again and prove Ladybug’s death was murder.”

  “I’m certain as the nose on my face somebody killed her,” said Phyllis. “I don’t care how long it takes, or how tough it turns, but I’m going to prove it and see that justice is done.”

  Sammi Jo sized up her aunt. She was firm in her conviction, and when Phyllis dug in on something, there was no stopping her. Sammi Jo didn’t want Phyllis traipsing from house to house, buzzing door chimes, and asking the townies if they’d noticed a bloodthirsty killer slinking by lately. Sammi Jo decided her smartest course of action was to go along with Phyllis.

  “All right, we’ll give your way a try,” said Sammi Jo. “When are you going to see Isabel and Alma?”

  Elated Sammi Jo was now in her camp, Phyllis smiled. “Do you think they will consider taking my case right away?”

  “Alma will be raring to go since she lives and breathes this private eye stuff, but Isabel won’t be so much these days.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She has grown leery about taking on any new cases because she says investigating mysteries leaves her drained. That’s a problem because they are a team, and they can’t unravel a homicide mystery unless they work together.”

  “Aren’t they a private eye firm? Didn’t they get a state license to make it official?”

  “They started out that way, but they have since let their license expire. Their aim is still the same, but now they work less formally.”

  Phyllis turned more thoughtful. “As much as I want to catch Ladybug’s killer, I don’t want to put Isabel on the spot or be a pest. Is there anything we can try?”

  “There might be one way if we are serious.” Sammi Jo leveled her eyes on Phyllis. “Are we serious?”

  “We are nothing but serious so spill it.”

  “First off, we approach Alma who I believe will listen to us. Once she is on board, maybe—but that’s just a maybe, you see—she can sway Isabel to accept your request. Alma is the only person I know of who can win over Isabel.
”

  “That’s great but how much pull does Alma have with Isabel?”

  “Just enough for our purposes, I hope.” Then Sammi Jo frowned a little at her next thought. “It almost got by me, but there is a larger roadblock for us to overcome.”

  “Oh no, what is it?”

  “Scrabble.”

  Phyllis smacked her forehead with her palm and gave a frustrated groan. “Don’t tell me they’re in the middle of a Scrabble marathon. We’ll never get their attention if they’re spelling out the words I’ve never heard of by arranging those little wooden tiles on the game board’s squares.”

  “Ah, they’ve also cajoled you into playing Scrabble with them.”

  “Have they ever. Isabel never misses a trick. Anytime I step into their foyer, she’s dropping hints all over the place. Don’t get me wrong because I love both women dearly, and I enjoy playing a game or two of Scrabble, just not on every visit. Why can’t we play Monopoly for a change of pace? I love squeezing the play money in my fist and snapping up the swanky properties like Park Place and Boardwalk.”

  “Isabel is fixated on playing Scrabble like you are on playing Quiet Anchorage’s bag lady.”

  Phyllis didn’t agree. “The difference is I’m pretending to be a bag lady for the kicks, but Isabel is all serious about Scrabble.”

  “You should get a hold of Alma and lay out what our favor is. Be sure to tell her everything you gave me. Better yet, we both can talk to Alma. Then she’ll hit up Isabel when the time is right.”

  “Suppose Isabel really has called it quits? What if she balks at Alma’s suggestion they should help us?”

  “Aunt Phyllis, we have to put our faith in Alma’s ability to make Isabel change her mind. Alma can be tenacious when she has to be, so I like our chances. She has never let me down in all the time I have known her.”

  Phyllis held up a hand with all her fingers crossed. “We’ll think positive Alma will come through for us.”

  Chapter 2

  “Do you think our lives have fallen into another rut?” asked Isabel just back from flushing—twice—a stinkbug she’d trapped in a tissue down the commode.

  Alma rolled her eyes straight up while thinking. “I don’t see that as being the case. Why do you ask me?”

  Alma ran short and stout like a teapot while Isabel stood tall and slim like a parfait glass. They sat in their favorite armchairs. Alma’s upholstery was the bold tartan plaid print while Isabel’s fabric was the more sedate green velveteen. Both sisters felt at ease in their stylish dresses of muted warm colors. Their birth certificates proved Isabel was several years older, and Alma liked to remind folks of it.

  “We haven’t set up the Scrabble game board in three days, no make that four.”

  Alma smiled. “Mr. Rhee probably felt ambushed when the Trumbo sisters ganged up and beat the stuffing out of him. Even his Scrabble partner Sammi Jo couldn’t save him from the jaws of defeat.”

  Mr. Rhee was their newest friend who owned a men’s tailor shop in the nearby larger town of Warrenton. He was vain about his Scrabble prowess, or he had been up until the recent night when Isabel and Alma had defeated him in almost every game they played. He’d remained closed-lipped during the final game when Isabel winked on the sly at Alma. They eased up and let him win by three points, and he was back to smiling again.

  “What time did we finally call it quits?” asked Alma. “I’m never a clock watcher when I’m spelling out the big score words left and right.”

  “I checked the microwave clock, and can you believe it was 1:16 a.m.? Where did that night go?”

  “Time flies by when you are having as much fun as we were.”

  “We served Mr. Rhee all the iced tea he wanted, and he must have a hollow leg from the way he guzzled it down. I don’t feel too guilty about winning.” Isabel chanced a look out the front window. “Goodness me, Phyllis is charging up Church Street like she has an airplane to catch. Something big must be on her mind.”

  “It’s got to be Ladybug Miles,” said Alma also peering out the front window.

  “Phyllis must be torn up about how her best friend so tragically drowned.”

  “You’re right about Phyllis being upset, but you’re wrong on the cause of death because somebody killed Ladybug.”

  Isabel snapped her hazel eyes at Alma. “Why do you believe such a terrible thing happened to Ladybug?”

  “Sammi Jo and I have discussed it, and Phyllis is coming to see you about our checking into Ladybug’s death and proving she was murdered.”

  “That’s quite impossible. We are retired sleuths.”

  “Speak for yourself and not me. I’m still chomping at the bit.”

  Isabel shook her forefinger to emphasize her point. “I am not—that is spelled N-O-T—reopening the Trumbo Sisters Detective Agency, no matter who drops by our house and pleads for our assistance. Do I make myself clear?”

  “I haven’t gone stone deaf. If Phyllis asks me to do it, I will. That’s how I was raised in the Trumbo household.”

  “Feel free to do as you wish then,” said Isabel with a sniff not caused by her ragweed allergy since she was taking her medicine. “See if I give a tootle. I told you that I’ve retired. No amount of inveigling from Phyllis or you can persuade me to unretire. My decision is binding and final.”

  “Is it now?” Alma arose and took up the straps to Isabel’s pocketbook where she kept it on the end table next to her armchair.

  Isabel cringed over knowing what Alma was set to do. She opened Isabel’s pocketbook and didn’t have to rummage around inside it for long.

  Alma flashing her smile drew out Isabel’s large 3X magnifying glass and brandished it. Isabel’s declaration of her retirement was crumbling to bits and she knew it.

  “My, my, take a look at what I found,” said Alma, turning the magnifying glass around. “Why are you still carrying this tool of the trade if you’re retired?”

  “A magnifying glass comes in handy for other things like reading the small print on the restaurant menus for which dishes are marked hot and spicy. Be careful and don’t smudge or scratch the glass lens.”

  “You can ask the server about which dishes are hot and spicy. No, I think you’re not ready to quit just yet. I say nothing gets your blood pumping like the thrill of the chase does.”

  Isabel relented but only by a little bit. “Maybe I’ve got enough gas left in the tank to take on investigating one more case, but after finishing it I’ll make my retirement official.”

  “It’s good to hear you have returned to your senses,” said Alma. “When you make your retirement official, I’ll be certain to send you off with a packet of zinnia seeds. I would never want your life to fall into that rut you mentioned.”

  “Touché,” said Isabel.

  She left her armchair and went to answer the door before Phyllis tried to use the broken electric doorbell. Isabel placed her hand over her chest. “My heart is racing, and we haven’t gotten started yet.”

  “I won’t tell you I told you so, but I did. Do we have any iced tea in the pitcher to offer Phyllis a tall glass after her jaunt up Church Street?”

  “We always have a cold pitcher of iced tea to serve our guests. It would be a sin not to have any on hand.”

  “There is also a box of bear claws in the breadbox.”

  Isabel tried not to smirk. “Not anymore, there isn’t.”

  “You ate every one of them?”

  “Yes, and let the record show they were delicious to the last crumb, and I’m full as a tick.”

  “It’s okay because I didn’t want them anyway since I’ve started my next diet.”

  “Is that why you wrote bear claws on our shopping list?” asked Isabel.

  “Touché,” said Alma.

  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 i
t. 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.