Beware the Orchids (A Shady Acres Mystery Book 1) (5 page)

8

T
he next morning, I waited just inside the glass doors leading to the lobby for our substitute handyman to arrive. I’d promised Heath I’d bring the man to the dining room. So far, he was fifteen minutes late. That act did not instill a lot of confidence.

A forest-green pickup truck roared into the driveway. A man in coveralls and a white tee shirt climbed out. He sauntered toward the building, wiping his bald head with a red, white, and blue bandana. He yanked open the door, his steps faltering when he saw me.

“Miss Hart? Got a flat. Sorry.” He held out a blackened hand.

“Dave Mason?” I shook his dirty hand, then wiped it on my jeans. “Follow me and I’ll introduce you to the man whose job you’ll do for the next week or so.”

“Wonderful, but I got to tell you I can’t do any heavy lifting.”

I stopped. “Excuse me? That’s what I requested. I need someone to do the heavy work.” Alice was going to have a conniption fit.

“Bad back. I can do lawn work just fine.”

“But, that’s my job.”

He raked his gaze over me. “I reckon you aren’t much good at heavy work. Too small.”

I supposed I could get Cheryl to help me…wait a minute! I needed to assert myself. “Mr. Mason. If you cannot do the work I hired you to do, then I’ll have to insist you leave.”

“Don’t be hasty, little lady. I’ll do the work.”

“Wonderful.” I marched toward the dining room and left the man under Heath’s supervision.

Cheryl and Grandma were still having breakfast. I told them I’d be in the greenhouse working and to come fetch me when, and if, they found something for us to investigate. I think Grandma took that as a personal challenge since she bolted from her seat and began questioning the other residents. I shook my head and headed to work.

Not only did I have some weeding to do in the herb garden, and watering of the plants in the greenhouse, I needed to somehow put plastic over the hole in the roof until a repairman came out. I wasn’t sure what was taking Alice so long. I thought for sure she would have called straightaway. Then, once that was finished, I needed to make sure everything was in order for the social that evening. Perhaps a record player with songs from the time the residents were young. I could make an announcement for everyone to come dressed when they felt their finest.

I pulled out my cell phone, ran the idea past Alice, who loved it, and asked her to make the announcement then call the repairman. Seconds later, the announcement came over the loud speaker. One job complete.

I stepped into the greenhouse. Birdie dug in the dirt under the counter where Maybelle had lain. “Birdie?”

“You’re taking too long, Missy. I thought I’d do some digging of my own.”

“What do you expect to find?”

She crawled out. “I have no idea.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Life goes on as if she never existed.”

I put my arms around her. “Maybelle is missed, honey.”

“No, she isn’t. She was a difficult, nosy, prickly woman, but she was my friend.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I want to see justice done.”

So did I. “Want to help me put plastic on the roof? You can hold the ladder. It might help take your mind off things.”

“I don’t see what good I am, but I suppose I can hold a ladder.”

I retrieved the ladder from against the building and stood it up. “Don’t let me fall.”

“No guarantees.”

With my heart in my throat, I climbed the ladder. I probably should have asked the new guy, but he’d be plenty busy doing all the things Heath wasn’t able to get to. The ladder shook under me. I glanced down to see Birdie leaning against it eating a cookie. “Birdie!”

“Oh, sorry. I missed breakfast.” She put both hands back on the ladder.

“Hand me an edge of that plastic roll and the duct tape. Slowly, please, and one at a time.”

She handed me the tape and I set it on the top step of the twenty-four foot ladder. Then, slowly but surely, I began taping the plastic over the hole.

“Shelby Marie Hart!”

I turned, missing the rung. As the ladder fell, I jumped to the nearest shelf and smashed a fern. “Grandma! Are you trying to kill me?”

“What are you doing on that ladder?”

“Fixing the roof. Temporarily, of course.” I jumped to the ground and tried to prop up the leaves of the mangled plant I’d landed on. Maybe I’d have Mr. Mason finish the roof job.

“Have Cheryl get up there. She won’t have to go as high.” Grandma crossed her thin arms and glared. “You can’t get killed. We need you to help solve this murder.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Birdie said, wiping the cookie crumbs from her hands.

“Did you learn anything from Officer Lawrence last night?”

Grandma motioned her head toward Birdie. “Oh, I learned a lot, but nothing I can talk about in polite company.”

“Gross.” I shuddered.

“I’m leaving!” Birdie threw up her hands and stalked away.

“While the two of you talk, I’ll finish this poor attempt at roof repair.” Cheryl climbed up the ladder.

“Did you learn anything about the case or not?” I gave up on the poor fern. It would either revive or become compost in the next day or two.

“That man is as tight-lipped as a clam, but I did do some snooping when he went to the bathroom.”

That could get her arrested and thrown behind bars. “You can’t be doing that. What if he would have caught you?”

She shrugged. “I would have charmed my way free. Do you want to know what I found out or not?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Maybelle has a rap sheet.” Grandma pretended to study her manicure, but stared up at me from lowered lashes.

“Stop playing around and tell me.” I stomped my foot.

“Petty theft, that kind of thing. A couple of parking tickets.” She leaned against the counter. “Mr. Lawrence had a file on his coffee table.”

“He left it in the open?”

“Not really. I had to move several books and magazines to find it. Here’s the thing.” She held up her hand. “If Maybelle wasn’t such a nice girl, it’s very possible she was involved in something she shouldn’t have been and was killed for it. We need to search her things. Have they cleared out her cottage yet?”

I shook my head. “That’s scheduled for tomorrow, I think.”

Cheryl jumped from the ladder. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

I locked the greenhouse and led them to Maybelle’s former home. The door was locked. I stepped back, looking for an open window.

“Let me.” Grandma shouldered me out of the way and pulled a lock picking kit from her purse. “I came prepared.”

I did not want to know how she came about this particular skill. Seconds later, we were in the messiest home I’d ever stepped foot into. Clothes and dirty dishes covered every available surface. Books and magazines were strewn on the floor. “Someone has already ransacked the place.”

“I think this is how she lived,” Cheryl said. “I pity the girls in housekeeping.”

“Start digging. There has to be something buried in here.” Grandma headed for the kitchen.

“I’ll take the master bedroom,” I said, hoping I didn’t uncover something dead.

The bedroom was worse than the front room. I shoved a pile of clothing aside with my foot and moved to the dresser. A wooden box, the type men kept their doo dads in, set on top. Using my fingernail, I lifted the lid. Inside were watches and cufflinks. Had she stolen the entire thing or collected the men’s items over a period of time? Question two…why hadn’t the police taken the box? I shrugged. Maybe no one had reported anything missing at Shady Acres. She could have brought the box with her.

I opened the top drawer, caught sight of plain white underwear, and slammed the drawer closed. On second thought, I opened it again. Women who wanted to hide something often stuck it in their underwear drawer.

Bingo! I pulled out a Manilla envelope. Inside were several photographs. At first glance, they seemed to be of Shady Acre residents. I set the envelope aside and moved to the next drawer. Nothing interesting in the next two so I checked under the mattress then went to the closet.

Heavens to Betsy, how did anyone put another item of clothing in the jammed space? I glanced at the top shelf. Several boxes, tossed in haphazardly, seemed ready to fall. The first box I pulled down contained a Glock nine millimeter with a cute pink handle. Why hadn’t the police taken it? I closed the box and left the gun alone. Maybe since it didn’t pertain to Maybelle’s death, they left it with her personal items. The other boxes contained years and years of receipts. No help there.

Next, I glanced under the bed. Way too crammed to find anything, then headed to the master bathroom. I stared at the cluttered countertop, then opened the medicine cabinet. Assorted prescriptions for pain and anxiety filled the inside. Poor Maybelle seemed to suffer from more than kleptomania. Wait. Those weren’t her name on the bottles. I read Birdie’s name, Harry Weasley’s on one of the anxiety meds, even Bob Satchett’s name was there.

“Find anything?” Cheryl walked up behind me.

“She might very well have been a drug addict, stealing prescriptions from the other residents to feed her habit.” I closed the cabinet. “Does no one lock their doors around here?”

“Maybe she got a hold of a master key.”

“Good point. I’ll ask Alice if one was ever noticed missing.” I grabbed the envelope from the bed and headed to the front room. “Grandma? Find anything?”

She waved a sheet of paper. “She kept a schedule of the residents.”

“That would make sense, since she was stealing from them.” I dumped the contents of the envelope on the table after knocking several books to the floor. “She was also photographing everyone.”

“Our little Maybelle was not only a kook, but a thief.”

“Maybe the absent-mindedness was a ploy so people wouldn’t take too long of a look at her. It would be the perfect disguise.”

Grandma tapped a photo of Alice with her nail. “These don’t seem to be about the residents going about their lives. They seem to be more like spying. Alice is unlocking the door to a cottage that isn’t hers. Weasley is watching Bob and Myrna Smith. Here’s one of Heath entering Alice’s office. Was she stealing, gathering information, or both?”

“That’s what we need to find out.” I stuffed the photos back in the envelope, added the schedule, and slid them into Grandma’s purse.

“Holy cow.” Heath peered into the cottage. “I think Alice needs to hire a crew to clean this out. It’s too much for Amber and Becky. What are y’all doing in here?”

“Snoo—just checking on some things,” Grandma said, spotting Dave. “Getting a grasp of the work that needs to be done. Have fun.” She grabbed my arm, and leaving Cheryl to follow, pushed our way out of the cottage. “That was close. Who is that man in overalls? I almost spilled the beans to a stranger.”

“The substitute handyman.” I glanced over our shoulder. Heath and Dave looked our way. “We could have been caught by more than just them. What if Alice would have seen us?”

“I would have thought of something.”

“I’d like to know what you were doing in the victim’s cottage.” Officer Lawrence stepped from behind a tree. “Care to share any information?”

Grandma fiddled with a button on his shirt. “We would if we’d found out anything. Didn’t the police search her place?”

“A bit. But since it isn’t a crime scene—” He removed Grandma’s hand. “Ladies, I’ll tell you this one time only. Do not interfere in my investigation.” He turned and marched toward Maybelle’s cottage.

9

D
ressed in a vintage flapper dress, I stood next to Cheryl, who wore a formal gown from modern day because of her size, and Grandma in a red flapper dress to compliment my black one. Grandma and I made petite bookends to Cheryl, but the three of us stood in the doorway and surveyed the crowd of residents in every type of clothing imaginable. We had pimp suits, tuxedos, formal gowns, a fifties prom dress…you name it, we had it. Heath wore something Gatesby might have worn and looked quite dashing, even with the crutches.

“Remember…we are here to mingle and question the people in those photos,” I told my companions. “We’ll congregate in my cottage after the social.”

“We can have a bit of fun.” Grandma pulled one of those long cigarette holders they used to use back in the day.

“You can’t smoke in here.” I wasn’t aware she smoked.

“I’m not going to light it, silly. It’s for allure.” With her head high, Grandma sashayed into the crowd.

I shrugged and headed for the table where Heath and Dave, still in his coveralls, sat. “How did the first day go?”

“Just great.” Dave stuffed half a cupcake in his mouth.

Heath rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. “We have some, uh, heavier items that need to be moved. Do you think your Amazon friend can help out?”

“I’ll ask her, but she isn’t here to work. She’s on vacation.” I knew that substitute wasn’t going to work out. I should have given him the boot that morning. “Dave, we had this discussion. Either you do the work or—”

Yelling from the corner drew my attention. Birdie and Bob hurled insults at each other until Birdie clasped a hand to her chest and sagged into a chair.

I rushed to her side. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“She’s faking it,” Bob said with a scowl. “Ain’t nothing wrong with that biddie.”

Birdie’s eyes flashed, confirming his words. “I had a twinge, Bob. You can’t say I didn’t. Not with any certainty. If you don’t stop accusing me of taking your watch I might have a heart attack for real.”

“You were seen snooping around my cottage.”

“No one in their right mind would go near that pig sty.” She pushed to her feet, every pink curl on her head quivering with indignation.

I couldn’t help but wonder whether Bob’s watch was one of those in Maybelle’s box. I made a mental note to let Office Lawrence know. “Why don’t the two of you head to opposite sides of the room and take a break?”

Bob seemed taken aback. “Why? We came here together.”

“Yeah, Shelby.” Birdie slipped her arm in his. “We’re on a date.”

For Pete’s sake. I shook my head and took my own advice.

Harold Ball belched loud enough to deter me from my original destination and sent me to the opposite corner of the room where Mr. Weasley was stuffing finger sandwiches into every available pocket. From a few feet over, Alice waved her hand wildly in a gesture telling me to make him stop. I nodded.

“Mr. Weasley.”

“Harry, please.” He peered up at me from behind thick glasses which distorted his eyes so badly it was hard to tell his expression.

“Well, then, Harry, I must insist you stop filching the food. If you continue, there won’t be enough for everyone else.”

“I get hungry.”

“We all do. Perhaps you could keep food in the refrigerator in your room?”

“Perhaps.” He unloaded his pockets, leaving the sandwiches in a pile on the starched white tablecloth. “I’ll go find me a woman to dance with.”

A big band number played from the record player. It was all I could do to keep my feet from tapping along. If I hadn’t received a stern warning from Alice that I was not at the functions to participate, but to make sure everyone was having a good time, the only person I would want to dance with was Heath and he was out of commission. Still, I had a tiny regret over taking a job that sometimes had me working sixteen hour days. At the age of twenty-eight, I liked to think I had a lot of fun left in me.

Heath waved me over the moment Dave left the table. “You’ve got to fire him.”

“I know.” I fell into a chair.

“We have to help the girls clean out Maybelle’s cottage for a new renter and he’s worthless. He’ll fill a grocery size bag and carry out just that one bag. I carry more than that on these things.” He slapped his crutches.

“Did you see a wooden box full of men’s watches and things?”

He sighed. “Are you feeling sorry for me in the slightest?”

I grinned. “A bit.” I patted his cheek. “You poor thing. Now, did you?”

“Yeah. We handed it over to Officer Lawrence last night. He seemed interested.”

“One of those watches might be Bob Satchette’s.”

A sharp look from Alice got me to my feet. Maybe Bob could answer some questions for me. He seemed in a much better mood as he laughed at something Birdie said. In the photo Maybelle had of him, he’d seemed cozy with Myrna Smith. Now, that woman glared daggers in his direction.

Before I left, I put a hand on Heath’s shoulder. “Maybelle had some photos in her possession. One of them showed you jimmying the lock on Alice’s office door. What was up with that?”

He turned, eyes wide. “Why would she have a picture of me?”

I shrugged.

“Alice lost her key. I had to get into the office so she could retrieve her spare. It was innocent, Shelby.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe I killed Maybelle.”

“I’m just knocking off leads. Don’t get your drawers wadded up.” I made my pats a little harder, parting with one final whack, then headed over to talk to Myrna.

I sat in an empty seat at her table. “You don’t look as if you’re having fun.”

“Look at that pink haired hussy.”

I glanced to where Bob swept Birdie into a swing dance. “They’re good.”

“I taught him those moves.”

“The rat.” If I wanted information from her, I needed to be on her good side. “What happened?”

“It’s my fault, really. I knew when I started seeing him, on the sly, of course. I do have a reputation to keep, unlike Birdie. Anyway, I knew he was Shady Acres’s Casanova. He keeps Cialis on his nightstand for crying out loud.”

Eew. I needed to change the subject, but curiousity welled more than in the proverbial cat. “He didn’t like a secret liaison?”

“No. Seems he likes to flaunt his women.”

“Was Maybelle ever one of them?”

“I did find her teeth on his nightstand once. Not sure whether he wanted them there or she left them during one of her snooping visits. That woman could get into any locked door. A marvel, really.” She stood and patted my hand. “Thanks for talking, but I’m heading over there to get my man back.”

That left Bob for me to talk to and he was busy. With two ladies.

Grandma yoo hooed me from across the room. She had a grip on Harold Ball’s arm to rival a wrestler. “He has something to tell you!”

I met Cheryl’s amused glance. We met halfway across the room and continued to where Grandma was. “I thought we were going to exchange notes later.”

“This is important. Tell her, Harold.” Grandma gave him a little shove.

“I saw that new guy stick something in his pocket from Maybelle’s place.”

“Really? What?” I crossed my arms.

“Something from a box in the closet.”

“Where is Dave now?”

“Last I saw him, he was whispering with Weasley by the men’s room. Can I go now, Ida?”

She kissed his cheek, leaving a red lip print. “Sure you can, honey. Have fun. Poor thing,” she said as he left. “Can’t quite get over the fact I’m spending time with Officer Lawrence.”

“Spare the details unless you get information out of him. I’m going to find Dave.”

“I’m going with you.” Cheryl marched beside me like a celebrity bodyguard. “What are you going to say when you find him?”

“I’m going to play it by ear. There he is.”

Dave sat alone on a bench near the pool. He didn’t glance up until we sat next to him.

“What’s wrong, Dave?” I really hoped his mood wasn’t bad because I planned on firing him in the morning. Laziness and stealing could not be tolerated. Still, I’d feel bad for him.

“Nothing.” He forced a grin. “Just enjoying the nice evening.”

“Someone saw you take something from the cottage you were cleaning out today. What did you take?”

“Nothing, I swear.” He held up his hands. “That person is lying.”

“Dave, why would they lie?”

“I have no idea. Why don’t you ask them?” He bolted to his feet. “Unless you plan on having me arrested, I’m going to the cottage I’m sharing with Heath.” He mumbled something about not getting his own place and shuffled down the walk.

“That’s guilty behavior if I ever saw any.” Cheryl watched him until he turned the corner. “What did he take?”

“Something from a shoebox in the closet. It would have to be small. Paper perhaps.”

“Let’s go see if the boxes are still there.”

We hurried to Maybelle’s cottage. The door was locked, the shades drawn, and multiple black bags sat out front. “Looks like the place is cleaned out.” I grabbed a bag. “Let’s take these to my place. We can go through them, then cart them to the dumpster.”

“We’re stooping kind of low here.” Still, she hoisted two bags over her shoulders and marched toward my cottage.

By the time Grandma joined us, my floor was covered with papers. We’d started making two piles; one to look at closer and one to toss. When she opened the door, the papers blew together and into every corner of the room.

“Storm is coming. What in the world are the two of you doing?”

“Going through the bags that came out of Maybelle’s cottage. Now, we have to start all over.”

“Good thing I’m here to help you.” Grandma grinned and knelt beside us. “You go gather up all those ones that blew and I’ll tell you what else I found out.”

“You can talk while I gather.” I kicked off my shoes and crawled under the kitchen table.

“Bob Satchett is missing a watch.”

“I know that.”

“I bet you didn’t know it was a special watch.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “Define special.”

“Seems it has a thicker back than most watches. He kept his bank information written on a slip of paper and stuffed in the back.” She grinned. “I bet Maybelle stole that watch, took out the information, and that’s in here somewhere.”

Maybe, but my guess is that Dave had already found the bank information. “We’ll keep looking, but my bet is that it’s been found. We need to get into Heath’s cottage.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” Grandma said. “Just come on to the man. He’ll open the door fast enough.”

I shook my head. “He’ll let me in once I explain why we want in. He wants his name cleared more than anyone.”

At least, I hoped. If it turned out Heath was the guilty party, my heart would break.