Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 03 - The Ladybug Song Page 20

  “Surely Ladybug couldn’t have been any wealthier than to fill up the three money suitcases,” said Alma.

  “Notice how Petey Samson has stopped his restless nosing around,” said Isabel. “Money suitcase number three should be the final one.”

  “It’s the weirdest thing,” said Alma. “Did you notice he did his nosing around and not once did he stop and woof at us to toss him a doggie treat as his compensation?”

  “He did it out of sheer love for his two aunties,” said Isabel. “He’s just a precious angel sent to us from heaven above.”

  Petey Samson yapped out an appreciative woof-woof.

  Alma started to crack a snarky comment, but Helen gave Alma a warning headshake to let Isabel enjoy her moment in the sun with Petey Samson. Alma stayed quiet.

  Chapter 36

  As it turned out, the C notes didn’t quite fill the third and final money suitcase, also mango yellow. Helen balked on giving an estimate of the amount of recovered money. Phyllis speculated it ran in the billions, but Alma didn’t agree, her thinking the millions was more plausible. Isabel just hunched up her shoulders since it wasn’t their money to spend, so what difference did it make how much there was?

  Helen lugged each suitcase to the sedan and dumped both into the trunk. Alma expected the additional payload to weigh down the sedan’s rear springs, and they’d leave dragging bottom. However, as they eased out to the state road, they didn’t scrape the weighed down trunk and accelerated off in the direction of Quiet Anchorage. Draped across the rear floor at Helen and Isabel’s feet, Petey Samson lay resting after his arduous tour of duty as the sniffer dog.

  “Since we have discovered Ladybug was so flush, a classic greed motive may be why Curt murdered her,” said Helen.

  “Or maybe he carried enough hate to act on it,” said Isabel. “Perhaps her money represented nothing significant to him, and all that mattered was to kill her.”

  “Why did she use her three nice pieces of luggage to hold her money and bury them like a squirrel does its acorns?” asked Alma.

  “After she spotted or suspected Curt had arrived here and was closing in, she buried her money so he wouldn’t rob her,” replied Isabel.

  “That idea doesn’t make a lick of sense,” said Alma. “The town bank would be a safer place to keep her money.”

  “Everything I’m saying is based on my conjecture and what I know about Ladybug,” said Isabel. “It’s not like I’m reading the answers from a teleprompter, Alma.”

  “We’re just sitting and batting it around as friends do,” said Phyllis.

  Isabel smiled. “Naturally we are.” She looked at Alma to offer more speculations. “Perhaps Ladybug flew into a hysterical panic where rational thought was no longer possible. She felt desperate to do something extreme.”

  “I’d be scared witless, too, if I knew somebody was coming after me,” said Alma. “But I wouldn’t do like she did.”

  “We don’t see the bizarre act as prudent, but maybe it made perfect sense to Ladybug at the time she did it,” said Isabel.

  “She told me something interesting while we ate lunch at Eddy’s Deli,” said Phyllis. “She worried about the bad economy and how the banks would fail. She feared they would lose every cent of her money. I assured her that was an unrealistic concern, but she might have let it trouble her enough to withdraw and pack her money in the suitcases to bury it.”

  “My grandfather Sterling Vought Redfern used to tell us a Depression-era story when I was a girl,” said Helen. “He knew of a local farmer by the name of Cartwright. He had a similar eccentric habit of sealing his paper money inside of old Ball Mason jars instead of mango yellow suitcases. He buried the jars at different places around his farm.

  “One stormy afternoon a bolt of lightning zapped Farmer Cartwright deader than a bag of hammers, and the secret locations of his jars filled with the family savings perished with him. His family went batty and had no luck digging up his jars. They left the farm resembling a prairie dog village and moved away never to be heard from again. I guess Ladybug had also grown to distrust the banks with keeping her money safe like the old Farmer Cartwright did.”

  “Maybe Ladybug couldn’t bury the money suitcases unseen in the small yard at her townhouse,” said Isabel. “Maybe she used the swimming hole that she saw as her best option. We’re forced to make too many guesses, and we don’t know enough answers.”

  “I have a suggestion worth considering,” said Helen. “You might find some of the answers by traveling to Chicago and San Francisco and working your gumshoe magic while you stay there.”

  “I can’t go because I’ve got aviatophobia,” said Alma.

  “Which of the fears is that one?” asked Helen.

  “My fear of flying keeps me grounded,” replied Alma. “Put me on an airplane, and I turn into a basket case. I developed it late in life because when I was younger, I took to the skies many times for my government job. After my retirement and move to Quiet Anchorage with its lazier pace, I became a slug. Our drive to Warrenton on a shopping trip is the equivalent of taking a wagon train headed west across the continent. I’ve grown into a homebody, so any long distance travel is almost impossible for me to do.”

  “Nobody wants to upset your sluggish lifestyle,” said Isabel. “But I have to agree with Helen. Going on the road to snoop is how we might get to the bottom of things and put our curiosity to rest.”

  “I want to go along with you gals,” said Phyllis. “Chicago and Frisco must offer a trove of bag lady treasures waiting to be plucked. I’ll package them up to mail back to Quiet Anchorage.”

  “Visiting both cities will be an exciting adventure,” said Helen. “You’ll have a marvelous time while you are staying there. I’d also go with you except somebody has to stay behind and keep Sheriff Fox in line.”

  “Poor Roscoe will never learn his lesson,” said Isabel. “We’ll begin pulling our stuff together as soon as we return home. What do you say, Alma? Can you get on top of your aviatophobia for a short time?”

  Alma had a couple of aces stashed up her sleeve, and since Isabel had asked, Alma decided to play them. “I’ve got my own question to ask you before we start to pack our suitcases and buy airline tickets to fly off anywhere.”

  Isabel regarded Alma’s cunning smile reflected in the rearview mirror. “Ask away since I’m your captive audience sitting back here,” said Isabel.

  “Who will care for Petey Samson while the Trumbo sisters and Phyllis are on travel? Sammi Jo works all week, so she can’t do it. The Three Musketeers who stay rooted to their wooden bench can’t fill in for us. Helen’s court docket is all backed up.”

  “Well, I’m…,” said Isabel, her voice growing uncertain.

  “Are you also going to be the one who gives Petey Samson the bad news? It will break his little heart, and he will pine away during our absence.”

  The flustered Isabel had no plan ready.

  “Here is something else to consider,” said Alma.

  “As if all that weren’t bad enough,” said Isabel. “Go on then.”

  Alma did. “Any trip we take to Chicago and San Francisco will reduce our Scrabble playing time. Just envision that situation if you can. Will you survive that long without getting in your word game fix?”

  “You think you’re being so clever, don’t you, Alma?” said Isabel. “You just played a cheap trick on me.” She reached down and patted Petey Samson on the head. He yawned, never worried for one second his two mistresses contemplated abandoning him even for a brief while. He had Isabel and Alma wrapped around his dog paw right where he wanted them.

  “I said nothing clever that wasn’t also true,” said Alma.

  “It appears as if we’ll be remaining in Quiet Anchorage for the foreseeable future,” said Isabel. “Since Alma has seen fit to invoke the sacredness of Scrabble and Petey Samson, she doesn’t leave me any other choice. Sorry, Phyllis.”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “Sammi Jo and I had made pla
ns to go shopping for new curtains to put up in my townhouse.”

  Isabel’s cell phone bleated, and she accepted the call. Ossie greeted her and began jabbering away in her ear.

  “Whoa there, Ossie,” she said. “I don’t understand a word of what you are saying. Slow down a little and start over.”

  Alma arched an eyebrow while looking in the rearview mirror as Isabel sent her a concerned look.

  “I just told you Sancho has vanished on me,” said Ossie. “I don’t know where he went off to.”

  Isabel straightened up in the car seat. A new game was afoot, a new mystery to be solved. “It sounds like it is critical.”

  “It is very critical,” said Ossie. “I’m worried sick over it, and I don’t know what to do. The two of us are close.”

  “You better give me the details,” said Isabel.

  “What sort of details are you after?” asked Ossie.

  “A description of Sancho is a good starting place. How old is he?” asked Isabel.

  “He’s two-and-a-half years old,” replied Ossie.

  Her eyes enlarging with her pulse quickening, Isabel grew more alarmed. “Sancho is a small child. You’ve lost a child.”

  Alma also startled. “This is bad,” she said to Helen.

  “The worst type of bad,” said Helen with a nod.

  “No, Sancho is full grown,” said Ossie on the phone and then, “What are you talking about, Isabel?”

  “I should ask you the same question first,” said Isabel. “Who exactly is Sancho?”

  “You must’ve heard me speak of Sancho my pet ferret,” replied Ossie. “He found a secret hole in my house and wiggled his way outdoors. He could be anywhere by now. Can you and Alma also track down and locate furry loved ones?”

  A wave of relief swept through Isabel. She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Wait a moment, Ossie, and I’ll run it by Alma. She’s sitting right here with me.”

  “Okay, I’ll stay on the line,” said Ossie. “Just please hurry.”

  She met Alma’s inquiring eyes in the rearview mirror. “Ossie has lost his pet ferret Sancho and desperately seeks our assistance. I’m not sure what I should tell him. Are we also in the finding-lost-ferrets business?”

  “But of course we can be,” replied Alma. “Ossie is a dear friend in need, so it goes without saying we’ll be there in a three shakes of a ferret’s tail.”

  “I figured as much, but I wanted to check with you first,” said Isabel.

  “Just deliver our reply to Ossie,” said Alma. “I’m excited to get started investigating the new case at once.”

  Isabel, smiling, did just that.

  Chapter 37

  “You all think Reynolds Kyle is putting a diamond on my finger.” Sammi Jo looked dumbstruck. “You are wrong about that.”

  “Didn’t you and Reynolds go down to Charlottesville?” asked Phyllis.

  “Uh-huh. So?”

  “And didn’t you tell me it was for a ‘very important’ reason?”

  “Uh-huh. So?”

  “Well, I can’t imagine anything more important than buying a diamond wedding ring, so I naturally assumed that was the reason you’d gone.”

  Thinking they were ribbing her, Sammi Jo chuckled until she saw Isabel and Alma were also regarding her with serious expressions as if waiting for Sammi Jo to make the announcement of her upcoming nuptials. She cleared her throat and spoke in a strong voice to straighten out any misunderstandings they’d formed about Reynolds and her.

  “Look, Reynolds is a stand up guy, I grant you. He’s dropped his drag race track expansion idea, so we can spend more time together. We enjoy our share of laughs, but as far as me becoming Mrs. Reynolds Kyle, I just don’t know since we haven’t discussed it all that much.”

  “I’d like to spoil a brood of grand nieces and nephews before I lose my marbles and go live on the raisin farm,” said Phyllis.

  Alma gave Isabel a puzzled look. “We didn’t grow raisins on our family farm.”

  “The raisin farm is a not very nice doctors’ euphemism for an old folks’ home,” said Isabel.

  “I never thought of myself as a raisin.” Alma patted Sammi Jo on the shoulder. “Take your time with Reynolds since you’re not even thirty.”

  “I just turned twenty-three but thanks for saying that,” said Sammi Jo. “Stay tuned for what happens next between Reynolds and me is all I can tell you.”

  “I appreciate your tracking down Sancho,” said Ossie. “Who would think to look for the little devil curled up asleep inside my doorless mailbox except Isabel and Alma with an able assist from Phyllis?”

  “Think nothing of it,” said Alma. “We are happy to help you any time we are able.”

  “Absolutely,” said Phyllis.

  “What’s going on with Blue and Willie?” asked Alma.

  “When I last sat with them, Willie was telling Blue about the electric orange UFO he spotted zigzagging over the piney woods last night,” replied Ossie.

  Everybody did a collective eye roll.

  “I chatted with Rosie,” said Isabel. “Her broken shinbone is healing ahead of schedule. She and Lotus will return to Clean Vito’s tomorrow, and Vito has planned a big welcome back celebration. Everybody in town is invited to attend it.”

  “Aw gee, I have to work tomorrow,” said Sammi Jo, glad she had an excuse not to attend the celebration.

  “I also bumped into Dwight on my trip over here,” said Ossie. “Celebrating your victory, he weaved down Main Street toting a little brown jug he borrowed from Uncle Jimbo. Dwight was off to visit his new girlfriend despite my friendly advice he might want to rethink doing that in his tipsy state.”

  “The silly lawyer needs a wife to straighten him out,” said Isabel.

  “Uncle Jimbo keeps several filled little brown jugs on hand,” said Phyllis. “They contain his patent medicine.”

  Everybody got a knowing chuckle over of how Uncle Jimbo’s “patent medicine” cured any patient’s ailments.

  “Have you seen Eustis sporting his snazzy fedora?” asked Sammi Jo. “He’s so vain about it he wears it everywhere even behind the pharmacy counter.”

  “The silly pharmacist also needs a wife to straighten him out,” said Isabel.

  “Every man deserves to have a wife, Isabel,” said Ossie in a voice that included himself.

  Alma was pleased to see Isabel refused to broach the topic. Isabel and Ossie were good friends, and good friends they would remain.

  “Should we get back on track and wrap up the strange case of Ladybug and Curt Miles?” asked Sammi Jo.

  They had agreed to convene at her apartment to compare notes and cap off their latest mystery. Her living quarters weren’t as neat as Ladybug’s townhouse had looked. Sammi Jo had had a bit of housekeeping to do since she’d been working online so much. She whisked around collecting her dirty clothes strewn over the floor and stuffed them into the hamper.

  Next, she grabbed Reynolds’ tooled leather belt with the NASCAR buckle he’d left behind and hid it under a sofa cushion. She also hoped to use the lemony furniture polish and vacuum cleaner, but there wasn’t enough time before the first guests clacked her doorknocker.

  Still out of her bag lady garb, Phyllis had brought along her potpourri simmer pot to create the spicy apple-cinnamon fragrance permeating the room. Phyllis indicated she might drop the bag lady masquerade. Everybody understood why, and though they’d miss seeing the bag lady around town, they supported her decision.

  The powered up laptop sat on Sammi Jo’s tabletop ready for use.

  “Is that a spanky new laptop computer?” asked Phyllis.

  “Yes, it is,” replied Sammi Jo. “It is the very important thing I went to Charlottesville with Reynolds to buy. Your laptop died, and I couldn’t use it to do any more investigative work.”

  “Maybe the next time when we speak about your plans, you won’t be so cryptic,” said Phyllis. “Otherwise my wild imagination gloms on to fanciful notions like
my favorite niece is getting engaged to be married.”

  “I was running around like a crazy cat getting ready when we spoke, and I forgot to give you all the details,” said Sammi Jo.

  “Ladies, enough please,” said Ossie. “Might we move our business along? I’ve got other things to do today.”

  Phyllis tittered with amusement. “Ossie, what other things are they? You just gather splinters on the wooden bench with your compadres Blue and Willie.”

  Ossie brandished what he’d brought with him: a well-used cardboard box of his Scrabble game board and its 100 letter tiles. “It’s drawing close to our time to enjoy a little fun for a change after all this gruesome murder discussion.”

  Isabel’s eyes showed her enthusiasm. “I agree with Ossie we should wind this up.”

  “Okay then, Sammi Jo,” said Alma. “We stand ready so give us whatever information you have dug up in outer space.”

  “It’s called cyberspace, Alma, not outer space,” said Isabel.

  “Well, I got it half right, and everybody knew what I meant anyway,” said Alma.

  Chapter 38

  Sammi Jo flumped down in front of the laptop on the kitchen table, and the others, standing, bunched around her.

  “I should warn you I didn’t scratch up a lot new information,” she said. “Ladybug and Curt Miles didn’t leave many electronic footprints for discovery.”

  “Just give us what you have found,” said Isabel. “We’ll do our best to fill in the holes, but we can’t fill in all of them.”

  “We’re mighty good sleuths but we’re not perfect,” said Phyllis.

  “Where did Ladybug get all the money to fill the three suitcases?” asked Alma.

  “I was able to confirm she made several withdrawals from the savings accounts she held at the local banks,” replied Sammi Jo. “It wasn’t hard to figure out her passwords with Phyllis’s help.”

  “I spoke to Helen on my cell phone as I was putting away our garden shovel,” said Isabel. “She and Oscar visited Sheriff Fox’s office. He broke out in a sweat and turned pale as a ghost after he met Oscar. While searching through the bundles of money, they uncovered an address tag left zipped up in the inner pocket of the final suitcase we found.