Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 03 - The Ladybug Song Page 10

  “Seeing enough money to buy a Ferrari rattled my nerves, and I couldn’t think all that clearly.”

  “All the more reason we let Sheriff Fox be the one who handles it.”

  “No, we didn’t think it through enough. There may have been clues found inside the money suitcase. If we’d taken out the money and looked there, who knows what may have turned up?”

  The sisters were riding in the sedan, Isabel at the helm. Since Phyllis had gotten out at her townhouse, she missed getting an earful of Alma’s tirade. The only thing that could defuse Alma was Petey Samson, and he was asleep on Isabel’s bed at the manor. Isabel usually let Alma emote until she wound down, but this time Isabel had put up with enough, and she spoke in a stern tone.

  “Would you feel at ease holding all that money with Ladybug’s killer on the rampage?” she asked.

  “Since you put it that way, I suppose I wouldn’t,” said Alma.

  “So now it’s Sheriff Fox’s worry and not ours. We can get on with our work.”

  Alma pictured him as if in a comedic skit because folks having that much cash on hand acted nutty as a slice of pecan pie. He opened the mango yellow suitcase to do his count since he didn’t trust his deputies to do it. He picked up a bundle of the C notes and riffled them with his wetted thumb, the bundle held an inch away from his ear. The snappy swish of the paper money sounded sweet, but it was too bad he couldn’t spend one red cent of it.

  “I bet I can tell where you are taking us,” said Alma to end her amusing reverie of Sheriff Fox.

  “Five dark chocolate éclairs say you don’t know,” said Isabel.

  “Make that five bear claws, and you’re on.”

  “Done. So where is our destination?”

  “We’re off to Rosie’s house where we’re also bound to find Lotus doting on her.”

  “Congratulations. When do you wish to collect your winnings?”

  “I’ll imagine eating the bear claws since my girlish figure needs close watching, you understand.”

  “Can you think of what our first question should be to ask Rosie and Lotus?”

  Alma laughed. “How in the devil did you break your shinbone, Rosie?”

  “Okay then, our second question should be did either of them see or hear about Ladybug and her one hundred-dollar bills?”

  “Using a one hundred-dollar bill to buy something isn’t as amazing as it once was. One hundred dollars doesn’t stretch as far anymore.”

  “Even so, I think a townie would gossip over having seen her making a purchase with the large bill.”

  Alma took in a breath and let it out slowly. Rosie and Lotus were like a giant pair of human sponges that soaked up the gossip and rumors spilled in town. Wringing anything useful from them was tricky to do. They usually refused to give up anything without getting something of par value in exchange. A visitor had to bring them something juicy. Today the sisters didn’t have anything juicy to trade, only to appeal to Lotus and Rosie’s sense of decency on how they could be a help in the hunt for Ladybug’s murderer.

  Rosie’s gingerbread cottage featured pearl white shutters and begonia pink trim. Only the gawky rooftop TV antennae detracted from the curb appeal. Lotus resided in a similar style cottage, chartreuse in color, located closer to the town’s baseball field and fire department carnival grounds. Parked cars lined both sides of the street with one space left empty, and Isabel eyed it with zeal.

  Alma shuddered while her heartbeats increased. Parallel parking for Isabel posed a challenge at best, an ordeal at worst. She glided past the empty space, eased on the brake pedal, and slipped the sedan’s gear shifter into reverse. Alma reached over and tapped Isabel on the forearm. She stopped and gave Alma a look.

  “What say we not put another dent in the bumper or ding in the door,” she said. “Just double park us in front of Rosie’s cottage.”

  “We’ll get a parking ticket and have to pay a fine.”

  “Sheriff Fox has conferred special deputy status on us, and we’re entitled to double park when we’re in a pinch like now.”

  “I wished Quiet Anchorage used diagonal parking on its streets.”

  “The town streets aren’t wide enough to do that.”

  “Well, I would like to parallel park once without grazing another vehicle.”

  Alma rolled her eyes but only on the inside. “Is your parallel parking once so important? Saint Peter won’t hold it as a strike against you.”

  “I wouldn’t presume to put words in Saint Peter’s mouth, but I like your thinking, so I’ll double park us by Rosie’s SUV.”

  Wiping the beads of sweat from her brow, Alma also smiled. “Thanks and I’ll call us even on our five bear claws bet.”

  “Parallel parking is a challenging task,” said Isabel.

  Alma nodded. “It’s even more challenging than playing a seven-letter word in Scrabble.”

  “I don’t know when I last did that. What about you?”

  “Not in recent memory but I’m not too worried about it. We’ve still got a lot of Scrabble games left in us yet to be played.”

  “Rosie and Lotus have probably seen us pull up,” said Isabel, cutting off their engine after parking alongside Rosie’s champagne silver SUV. Erring on the side of caution, Isabel also put on the emergency brake. “Let’s not keep them waiting,” she said.

  ***

  At seeing Rosie wearing a clunky plaster of Paris leg cast that ended high up on her thigh, Alma had to bite down on her lips to keep them buttoned. Still the ticklish urge to laugh aloud stirred in her throat. It wasn’t a bit nice, but Rosie was such a sight. Slim as the green Gumby cartoon character, she lay supine on her living room sofa.

  The throw pillows stuffed under her neck and back propped her up. A column of throw pillows elevated her leg cast. The pair of titanium under-arm crutches, probably a drugstore rental from Eustis, lying on the floor indicated her awkward and limited mobility. The cell phone she used to obtain the updates from Vito at the launderette was on the coffee table. Her fractured shinbone was mending but nowhere fast enough for her satisfaction. Her beady blue eyes read her visitors’ bemused expressions.

  “All right, Isabel and Alma laugh if you must,” she said. “Get the yuk-yuks out of your system, so we can talk without any interruptions or distractions. I won’t get angry and snap at you.”

  The tactful Isabel spoke. “Oh, Rosie, you should stop being so oversensitive and melodramatic. Nobody in the room is laughing at you. All we hope for is your speedy recovery to get back on your feet.”

  “Isabel is nothing but right,” said Alma. “We stopped at Clean Vito’s, and the launderette is dull as watching popcorn pop without you and Lotus holding court there. Vito said the place just isn’t the same in your absence.”

  A big-hipped woman who favored burgundy and taupe wardrobe colors, Lotus (she served as Rosie’s caretaker as if she needed one) pointed out an irony. “He was the one who booted us out, and his ban lasts for ten days. He informed us he can’t afford to run the insurance risk of having Rosie reinjure her leg. She slipped on a soap bar left in her bathtub. Now I ask you the same question I asked him. Does he leave soap bars lying around on the wet launderette floor? I haven’t ever seen a soap bar there if he does.”

  “Maybe you gals were due for taking a short break.” Isabel regretted making the inadvertent pun and hoped Rosie wouldn’t notice it.

  “Short break. Har-har, Isabel,” said Rosie. “That’s about as funny as my pair of crutches lying on the floor.”

  “Sorry, Rosie, but it just slipped out like that,” said Isabel.

  “Slipped—there you go doing it again!” said Rosie.

  “Might we get down to business,” said Alma. “We brought a few questions about Ladybug Miles, may she rest in peace, with us.”

  “It’s all over town now she was murdered and didn’t drown in the Coronet River,” said Rosie.

  “She will be missed by everybody,” said Isabel.

  “Not by m
e, she won’t be,” Lotus blurted out in anger.

  “Oh?” said Isabel, taken aback.

  “She said spiteful things about me.” Lotus’s face had a contemptuous look with her eyebrows beetled and her eyes shiny as the steel blades to daggers. Evidently, Isabel had pushed one of Lotus’s hot buttons.

  Isabel glanced at Alma, and their eyes met. They made the quiet acknowledgement they might have found their first murder suspect as much as they were reluctant to accept it.

  “What did Ladybug say about you?” asked Isabel, careful in trying to draw out Lotus.

  She straightened to her full height and sucked in her tummy but without much success. “Ladybug called me ‘a fat cow’ to my face. I have never felt more insulted in my life.”

  “How did you react?” asked Isabel.

  “My first impulse was to lash out and slap Ladybug across her face,” replied Lotus. “She richly deserved it and plenty more if I wished to dish it out to her.”

  “Why did she call you the name?” asked Isabel.

  “I don’t remember what led up to it, but I was the better person who kept my cool, and I walked away, and that was the end of it.”

  “Apparently you didn’t let go of all the anger you felt,” said Isabel.

  Rosie at realizing what Isabel was up to flew to her friend’s defense. “Just because Lotus had every right to resent Ladybug’s ugly comment doesn’t mean Lotus would be offended enough to bump off Ladybug. I was there, and it happened just as Lotus said it did.”

  “Nothing could be truer,” said Lotus, more composed. “Ladybug and I may have had our differences and even occasional tiffs, but I did not kill her. End of story.”

  Less than persuaded by Lotus’s sincerity, Isabel nodded. “Then let’s move on, shall we?”

  Lotus was more back to her old affable self. “Yes, let’s.”

  “Did Ladybug ever bring up anything about her past after she moved away from Quiet Anchorage?” asked Isabel. “Did she mention any of her exes like a gentleman named Curt Miles?”

  “No, she never dropped Curt’s name on us,” replied Rosie.

  “Reflecting back, I can say she never used any of her exes’ names,” said Lotus.

  “She seemed content with her solitary lot to live in town,” said Rosie. She stretched out her good leg and squirmed like an otter on the sofa to get in a more comfortable position. “I’ve got an itch like a bad case of the chiggers on the inside of my leg cast. It’s driving me out of my ever-living mind, too. The surgeon won’t remove my leg cast for another six or seven weeks, and I know I cannot possibly hold out for that long to scratch it.”

  “I wished I could do something to help you,” said Lotus.

  “Bless your heart, Lotus,” said Rosie. “I wish you could, too.”

  “I remember this one time when Ladybug lugged her full laundry basket into Clean Vito’s,” said Lotus. “The washer at her townhouse had broken down, and she was forced to rely on the launderette which I could tell was a real comedown for her.”

  “She acted none too happy about having to wash her underclothes in a public place,” said Rosie. “We don’t mind washing ours there. Vito is nice enough to let us meet and greet his customers.”

  Lotus was blunter. “Oh, quit mincing words, Rosie. We sound like a pair of chattering peafowls while gossiping, and I’m not too embarrassed or ashamed to say it. The townies know that’s just us being us, and it can’t be helped.”

  Rosie quit trying to dig and get at the itch inside her leg cast. “We’ve alienated a few townies, but most of them take us in stride, accepting us for who we are.”

  “We social butterflies can never change our colors,” said Lotus.

  Isabel nodded. “When did you last see or speak to Ladybug? Did anything about her demeanor strike you as out of the norm?”

  “I last bumped into her at Matthiessen’s Hardware Store about a week before she died,” replied Rosie.

  “It was longer ago than a week,” said Lotus.

  “No, it wasn’t,” said Rosie. “You had gone to the dentist, and I was picking up a new tape measure for my home projects. Anyway, Ladybug bustled on her way out the door carrying a garden shovel. Since the townhouse folks with so little yard don’t have much call for using garden shovels, I asked her about it. She looked down at it, blinked once or twice, and gazed up at me.

  “I could tell she was delaying for the time to gin up a credible fib. ‘Well, you see Rosie,’ she says to me. ‘I have to get it gold-plated to use as a ceremonial shovel in the future recreation center’s groundbreaking event.’ I knew she’d given me an obviously untrue story, but I didn’t feel it was my place to call her on it. I just smiled, telling her I hoped the weather turned out to be nice and sunny for the occasion. She thanked me, and we moseyed on our separate ways.”

  “Are you certain it was a garden shovel?” asked Alma.

  Rosie gave Alma a candid look from the sofa. “Alma, I think I know what a garden shovel is. I was a pig farmer’s daughter, and I used one plenty of times.”

  “Why did she lie about why she bought the garden shovel?” asked Isabel, thinking Ladybug had used it to bury the money suitcase, and she didn’t want anybody to suspect she was doing it.

  Rosie chuckled. “Maybe she was going to dig up a pirate’s treasure chest.”

  Rosie‘s joke hitting so close to the truth startled Isabel.

  Lotus drew up her chest swelling with pride. “We use garden shovels all the time in what we like to do. Isn’t that correct, Rosie?”

  Alma smiled, trying to keep her rising wave of laughter in check.

  “Both of us are blessed with natural green thumbs,” replied Rosie. “Did you happen to notice our showy red peonies blooming this past May?”

  “How could we have missed seeing them?” replied Isabel. “They would have captured the top blue ribbon at the garden club’s flower show.”

  “Thank you for the generous compliment, Isabel,” said Rosie.

  “Now about the persistent itch under your leg cast,” said Isabel. “Don’t try to sift baby powder down into the leg cast, or it will rot and smell unpleasant. I’d rub a cotton ball soaked in alcohol around the skin at the top of your leg cast to gain a little relief. Whatever you do, don’t go jabbing a stretched out wire hanger down inside your leg cast to get at the itch.”

  “Did you also meet with a bad accident?” asked Rosie.

  “My boy Cecil broke his leg while racing on his go-kart when we lived on the boulevard,” replied Isabel. “Cecil then did all the wrong things I just cautioned you against, and his fracture took that much longer to heal, and the surgeon to remove his leg cast.”

  “I appreciate you sharing your helpful tips,” said Rosie.

  “You’re more than welcome,” said Isabel. “We’ll better be going now. Just keep on healing quickly.”

  “That is my number one goal,” said Rosie. “Be sure to tell Sheriff Fox we said hey the next time you see him.”

  “What?” said Alma, stunned.

  “It’s the talk of the town he’s asked you to assist him in Ladybug’s murder investigation,” said Lotus.

  Alma nodded. “Nothing stays a mystery in our Peyton Place for very long. I only hope that also holds true for our identifying the killer.”

  “Let us know if we can be of any further help,” said Rosie.

  “Nobody living in Quiet Anchorage wants to see justice carried out for Ladybug’s murder more than I do,” said Lotus. “Her killer must not get away with doing such a heinous crime.”

  Are you just saying that when you are the killer? thought Isabel. “Thanks, Lotus. I have a feeling we’ll want to speak to you again soon.”

  Alma nodded before she sent Isabel the eye signal to go.

  ***

  Matthiessen’s Hardware Store on Main Street was a low-lit space stocked with different nail bins and shelves of deadbolt locks that smelled of house paint and green sawdust. Alma posed the sisters’ questions.

/>   “Ladybug acted rushed like she was off to a fire,” said the burly Blaine who wore a blue plaid shirt with a stubby pencil lodged behind his ear. He’d been munching on a strawberry moon pie and sipping from a bottle of Mello Yello.

  “Did she pay you for it with a one hundred-dollar bill?” asked Alma.

  Blaine smiled. “My garden shovels are made of tool steel, not twenty-four karat gold, so she just paid me the right amount.”

  “Did she say what she intended to do with it?” asked Alma, recalling their futile room-by-room search of Ladybug’s townhouse finding no garden shovel.

  Blaine shrugged. “It didn’t come up in our conversation, no ma’am.”

  “Do you sell any luggage or suitcases?” asked Alma.

  “My main deal is hardware, and the closest product to a suitcase I stock is burlap sacks,” replied Blaine. “Can I interest you in buying a pack of them? They make great doghouse liners.”

  “Thanks but our pooch takes turns sleeping at the foot of our beds,” said Alma.

  “We’ll pick up a couple of your new broom rakes though,” said Isabel.

  “Excellent,” said Blaine. “Tell me something. Is it true your pooch growls and bares his fangs at Sheriff Fox?”

  “Petey Samson has picked up my bad habits,” said Alma.

  “He just has a wicked sense of humor,” said Isabel.

  “Indeed he must,” said Blaine.

  “Aren’t you a Bingo fan?” asked Isabel.

  “You can just about every week find me sitting at my lucky spot,” replied Blaine. “Phyllis used to sit in the chair, but she stopped coming to Bingo, so I claimed it.”

  “Did Ladybug ever sit in and play Bingo with you regulars?” asked Isabel.

  “She came just the one time I ever knew about,” replied Blaine.

  “What happened that time?” asked Isabel.

  “Ladybug stopped in the doorway, scanned the seated Bingo players, and did an about-face,” replied Blaine.

  “Any idea what made her leave so abruptly?” asked Isabel.

  “She spotted Lotus sitting with Rosie and decided Bingo wasn’t the right game for her,” replied Blaine. “Those two ladies, Ladybug and Lotus, did not get along with each other.”