Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 03 - The Ladybug Song Page 19

  Chapter 34

  Helen Redfern wasn’t a happy judge, not by a long shot, after she’d been updated. After arriving home from her leaf peeping trip to New England, she was visiting Isabel and Alma in their living room. The tall glasses of iced tea sat on the three bamboo drink coasters. Helen preferred a cup of hot coffee, but nobody turned down an offer of iced tea. Her pretty face had darkened with anger. It was best to avoid judges on the warpath, a lesson Sheriff Fox had learned the hard way.

  Helen’s courtroom attire included the white collar flourish with the black judicial robes, and she didn’t mind wearing pumps. She now favored casual jeans, a paisley blouse, and cordovan Rockports. She hadn’t broken out her digital camera to share the galley of photos she taken of the gorgeous foliage. Sightseeing was the last thing on her mind now.

  Petey Samson had hopped up on the sofa cushion to sit beside Helen where he’d made a new friend. While the three ladies conversed, she’d been scratching him between the ears, and his tail wagged away. Isabel and Alma throughout the day slipped him doggie treats without the other one knowing about it, and he kept up running his con job on them. Of course, he was growing chubbier as Dr. Ruffian would point out on the next visit to the vet.

  “Sheriff Fox infuriates me,” Helen was telling Isabel and Alma. “The five-star badge pinned to his uniform shirt and squiring around in the big cruiser have gone to his head.”

  “He probably doesn’t act too much differently than many small town sheriffs around the nation do,” said Isabel.

  “Quit sticking up for Roscoe,” said Alma. “Helen knows his true colors, and he’s being a rat fink.”

  “Quite right then,” said Isabel. “I’m less concerned about his recent professional misconduct, especially now that Phyllis is a free citizen thanks to Helen’s lobbying him to drop the charges.”

  “It was the right thing to do, and he knew it. I just gave him the extra impetus he needed.” Helen tilted her head and regarded Isabel. “I agree with your leading contention the late Curt Miles was probably Ladybug’s killer. Can you snoop around a little more and bring to light his motive for doing it? I’d appreciate it because I place so little confidence in our sheriff to get it done.”

  Isabel nodded. “We’ll be delighted to try our best, Helen.”

  “We’ve been running low on ideas,” said Alma. “Any suggestions on how we might get it going again?”

  Turning analytical, Helen stopped scratching Petey Samson between the ears. He took immediate offense and licked her fingers without mercy. She resumed her scratching, and he was content again. Isabel has just ruined him, thought Alma mortified by his pushy manners with their guest.

  “Your find of the money suitcase puzzles me,” said Helen. “Were the banknotes stuffed inside it stained red like caused by an exploded dye pack?”

  “The banknotes looked fresh and green as if they’d just been run off the printing press,” replied Alma.

  “Then the money wasn’t stolen from a bank,” said Helen. “That’s a good thing for Ladybug’s reputation. How deep did you have to excavate to get out the money suitcase?”

  “It was like digging up a bunch of tulip bulbs,” replied Alma.

  “No, that’s not quite accurate,” said Isabel. “It was a good fifteen to sixteen inches deep if it was an inch down in the sand.”

  “Then I stand corrected,” said Alma. “I left our yardstick at home to make a measurement which I was too busy digging by hand to do anyway.”

  “Why didn’t you just use a garden shovel?” asked Helen.

  “We also left the garden shovel at home,” replied Alma.

  Isabel ranged up from her favorite armchair. “All this talk on garden shovels has given me an idea. Helen, do you have some free time? Forty-five minutes, an hour tops?”

  “The paperwork piled up in my absence, but what harm is there in putting it off for an hour longer,” replied Helen. “What’s your new idea?”

  “Return to the swimming hole for a follow-up look,” replied Isabel. “A fresh set of experienced eyes like yours might glean a clue we previously overlooked.”

  “You exaggerate my detective talents, but I’m game if you ladies are willing to go back,” said Helen.

  “Do we bring along Petey Samson again?” asked Alma.

  “It’s always fine with me, but I’ll leave this decision up to our guest,” replied Isabel. “Helen, should Petey Samson stay home or accompany us?”

  “I like our chances a lot better with his hound dog nose put back into action,” she replied. “Plus, he owes me a favor for scratching him between the ears.”

  “Would you like a housebroken dog to take home with you?” asked Alma. “I’ll throw in a free leash and water bowl.”

  The stunned Isabel trembled, coming close to having a heart attack on the spot. “Alma! How could you think of much less do such a thing?”

  Alma gave Helen a sidelong wink, but she was already wise to Alma’s mischief.

  “I know she’s pulling my leg,” said Helen. “I could never take your dog. Petey Samson is like a family member.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” said Alma. “Isabel has spoiled him so much even salt won’t save him now.”

  “A mistress can never shower enough love on her pet,” said Isabel. “Helen, do you also know the joys of pet ownership?”

  She nodded. “My sweetheart corgi Patsy of fifteen years died in July. But it wasn’t long before I took in Oscar after my free-spirited niece Stacy went off to a college without pet-friendly dorm rooms.”

  “You are a good sport,” said Isabel. “Is Oscar a cat, dog, or bird?”

  “None of the above,” replied Helen. “Oscar is my pet boa constrictor. He is four-and-a-half feet long and growing like a kudzu vine.”

  Alma laughed. “I love it. Who babysat Oscar while you were away on vacation?”

  “I left him in the bailiff’s care,” replied Helen. “They spend a lot of time together and have formed an attachment.”

  “Where does Oscar stay during the day?” asked Alma.

  “Pretty much wherever he pleases,” replied Helen. “Visitors get a jolting fright at first seeing him stretched out on the credenza in my judge’s chamber. His presence settles the legal disputes so much quicker and easier. He is worth his weight in gold.”

  “We feel the same way about Petey Samson,” said Isabel. “Don’t we, Alma?”

  “It must be true because I can’t ever seem to say no to him,” replied Alma.

  Chapter 35

  “Please roll your window down all the way, Alma,” said Phyllis who they had stopped to pick up at her townhouse after she’d had a chance to freshen up. “I love the way the wind feels when it blows back into my face.”

  Alma did as Phyllis requested.

  “I thank you,” she said. “That is so much better than my recent stuffy accommodations.”

  “It gives us pleasure to see our favorite jailbird is now a free bird,” said Isabel. “Sorry it took us so long, but we had to make sure it was going to be a permanent status.”

  “I came out of it unscathed,” said Phyllis. “Now if I could only get back my expensive cell phone from Sheriff Fox.”

  Riding in the front seat beside Alma who had assumed the driving duties, Helen responded. “I can fix that dilemma for you with one quick phone call.”

  “You better let me ask him nicely first,” replied Phyllis.

  “I don’t mind doing it,” said Helen. “Just let me know.”

  “Poor Roscoe stays in Helen’s doghouse,” said Isabel.

  “The man sometimes acts as if he doesn’t have a clue,” said Helen. “Was he raised by a pack of dogs?”

  “Present company is excluded,” said Phyllis. She patted Petey Samson on top of the head. “Our dog is nothing but a nice one.”

  “He is a sweet-natured pooch with an infallible nose,” said Helen.

  Petey Samson cocked his head at the judge. He bared his toothy grin, and, a
fter doing a double take, she could’ve sworn he winked like a secret agent at her. Before she could mention it, Alma raised a question.

  “What is Sammi Jo doing?” she asked.

  “She and Reynolds went down to Charlottesville,” replied Phyllis. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. She told me they have gone shopping for something very important.”

  “It’s got to be for buying a diamond wedding ring,” said Alma. “I can’t think of what else would rate as very important to Sammi Jo.”

  “I have to agree with you,” said Phyllis. “She’ll probably be making the big announcement about their wedding date.”

  “That’s fabulous, but I’ll need to go shop for new shoes as a bare minimum,” said Alma. “Phyllis?”

  “Even if they aren’t on sale, or I don’t have a coupon, I’ll have to pick out a pair,” said Phyllis. “Isabel?”

  “Oh my yes, none of my shoes are the proper ones,” said Isabel. “Helen?”

  “I will also be in need of new footwear,” said Helen. “But I’m not keen on white or strappy shoes.”

  “Why don’t we make a day of it at the shopping mall?” said Alma. “I also know where to find the best pastry shop around.”

  Everybody liked Alma’s capital suggestion.

  “Did you remember to bring our garden shovel?” Isabel asked Alma.

  “I can’t think of everything,” replied Alma. “Are you expecting us to have to play pirate again for buried treasure?”

  “I can’t say,” replied Isabel. “But using a garden shovel is easier than us having to dig like woodchucks as we did the last time.”

  “Nice try at the evasion,” said Alma. “You had a reason to ask me such a question. Do you care to let the rest of us in on your thoughts?”

  “Not quite yet but I will soon,” replied Isabel. “Right now it’s nothing more than playing a hunch of mine.”

  “For the record, I’ll state I’m not a big fan of playing hunches,” said Alma.

  “Duly noted,” said Isabel. “By the way, I did remember to bring the garden shovel since I didn’t want you to break another nail.”

  “Then Ms. Smarty Pants, you can do any of the necessary spadework,” said Alma.

  “I can help out with doing that,” said Phyllis. “Rubbing a few blisters on my palms is the least I can do after you gals freed me from jail.”

  “You are quite welcome, and everybody will take a turn if it comes down to using the garden shovel,” said Helen always the fair-minded judge.

  ***

  Alma shifted the sedan into park at the swimming hole on the Coronet River. It was the same place where Sheriff Fox had recovered Ladybug’s waterlogged dead body, and later the ladies had excavated the money suitcase. They ranged out of the sedan, and this time the swimming hole gave none of them a cold shiver of fright as it had done on their previous trips.

  Phyllis still had Ladybug’s polyester headscarf. Isabel gave it to Petey Samson to sniff, and she undid his leash. Eager to please his two mistresses, he loped off as if he knew what he was doing. His wet nose glided an inch, maybe less, from the sandy terrain flat as a breadboard. He struck a zigzag route, and Isabel tipped off the others about her long hunch.

  “Gals, I expect he has picked up another money scent. Only the canines like Petey Samson with their superior noses are capable of accomplishing the feat. Just get a load of him at work. Isn’t he a brilliant dog?”

  “Why didn’t he pick up the same money scent the first time we came here?” asked Alma.

  “Only because we didn’t ask him to continue to make his nose useful,” replied Isabel. “Hush now and don’t be a distraction to him when he is so close.”

  Petey Samson drew in his search pattern tighter, circling closer and closer until his nose zeroed in to hit the true bull’s-eye. If he could have used a spray paint can, he would have laid down an X mark on the spot. No crabgrass or ragweed grew on the sandy patch where he flopped down and rested his bones. His purplish tongue lolled out from his jowls, panting while he waited on the ladies to get their act together. He refused to move until they had at least tossed aside a few shovelfuls of sand.

  Since Helen was the youngest lady, she designated herself as the first digger. She doffed her corduroy jacket and pitched it into the sedan’s front seat. The garden shovel came from out of the trunk. Before grasping its handle, she spat in both palms and rubbed them together. Phyllis almost giggled until she realized Helen was going about her task soberly as any judge would. She clapped her hands, shooed away Petey Samson, and sank the shovel tip deep into the river sand.

  “This sand is a lot easier to dig in than the dirt is in my vegetable plot,” she said.

  “That’s how Ladybug buried her money suitcase so quickly,” said Isabel.

  “It sounds logical,” said Helen, working the garden shovel. She made short order of creating a knee-deep pit. Her breathing grew heavier as her lips set with purpose. The only noise was the crunches the garden shovel made while she removed the sand. Her next probe with the shovel tip thunked on a solid object. Her mouth broke into a pleased smile. The garden shovel also served as an adequate broom as she scraped away the sand from off the top of the solid object.

  “What prize have you unearthed?” asked Isabel.

  Helen, standing in the pit, straightened to her full height. She leveled a satisfied look on Isabel. “Your bloodhound has done it again. I have a rectangular container. The exterior grainy cover appears to be leather, and its shade is mango yellow. Three guesses at what it is, and the first two guesses don’t count.”

  “You are standing by another money suitcase,” said Isabel.

  “The money suitcases are sprouting like mushrooms,” said Alma.

  “Pinch me,” said Phyllis. “I must be dreaming about this. Show us the money. I never grow tired of the adrenaline rush I get by feasting my eyes on it.”

  “Are the finders the keepers?” said Alma.

  “This time the rule has got to apply to us,” said Phyllis. “Am I correct, Your Honor? Can I get your ruling made on exercising our salvage rights?”

  “As I’m sure you can understand, I’m reluctant to issue any ruling when I’m not seated on the bench,” replied Helen. “But off the record, I’d say don’t get your hopes up too high because the original party more likely than not has the first claim to it.”

  “Aw, shucks, wouldn’t you know it our rotten luck continues,” said Phyllis.

  Helen grasped the suitcase by the handle and raised it. She set it on the ground next to the pile of wet sand she’d just excavated. Alma took the garden shovel from Helen and returned it to the trunk.

  “Sammi Jo and her nifty lock picks would fix us right up,” said Alma. She darted a glance at Judge Redfern who saw many lock pick artists charged with burglary crimes seated at the defense counsel table in her courtroom. Alma spoke to clarify Sammi Jo’s expertise. “What I mean is she possesses the right knack for legally springing the tough locks on suitcases like this one.”

  “No such knack will be needed here,” said Helen. “Whoever buried the suitcase no doubt wanted to maintain easy access in order to make quick cash withdrawals. You can undo the suitcase’s unlocked clasps. Try it and see if I’m not right.”

  Phyllis followed Helen’s instructions and flipped up the suitcase’s top. The familiar contents gleamed with its long green splendor at them.

  “What do you know?” said Phyllis after a sharp gasp and both hands pressed against her chest. “My daily horoscope came true for a change, and I became a wealthy lady. Or rather I almost did.”

  There are enough C notes here to build several sun parlors, thought Alma. Even the gape-mouthed Isabel and Helen had to remind themselves to start breathing again.

  “Ladybug sure developed an odd quirk after returning to Quiet Anchorage,” said Phyllis. “Shouldn’t we get busy totaling it up?”

  “You just can’t wait to crinkle the paper money between your fingers,” said Alma.


  “Don’t you feel the same way about it?” asked Phyllis.

  “I wouldn’t turn up my nose at the cash if it was offered to me,” replied Alma.

  “Handling such a big pot of cash is flirting with danger,” said Isabel. “It drives you to think irrationally and, worse, to act impulsively.”

  “Sun parlor, anyone?” said Alma, going dreamy-eyed.

  “You just illustrated my point,” said Isabel.

  “You’ve always longed for a sun parlor, too,” said Alma.

  “Do you mean to say a sun room?” asked Phyllis.

  “Yes, we do,” replied Isabel. “Alma prefers using the more homespun term of a sun parlor.”

  “So I’m just a homespun gal,” said Alma. “But I like my nice things like any other gal does.”

  “Button up the money suitcase and give it to Sheriff Fox,” said Helen. “He can process it like he did with the first one.”

  “What is the hurry, Your Honor?” Phyllis toed the suitcase around to better face her, and her rapt eyes never left the money. “We’ll hang loose and enjoy the sight of it for a little while longer.”

  Smiling, Alma used her elbow and nudged Isabel in the side. “Uh, sis, don’t look now, but our wonder pooch is at it again.”

  “You’re telling fibs on Petey Samson again, too,” said Isabel.

  “Am I now? Take a look,” said Alma, nodding off to their immediate right. “He has sniffed out and flagged a third spot.”

  At a half-turn, Isabel observed Petey Samson had flopped down on another bare site on the sandy beach. He woofed-woofed and wagged his tail as if they were playing a game of hide-and-seek. Their delay at getting on with the fun flummoxed him. He barked and his tail thumped harder, slapping against the sand.

  “You shush up, Mister Dog,” said Isabel. “We need quiet in order to think of what to do next.”

  “It’s another job for our lady armed with the garden shovel,” said Phyllis.

  “I’m going to poop out if I keep digging holes,” said Helen. “Striking a justice gavel on the block to bring my courtroom to order is the hardest thing I ever have to do.”