Nightingale's Nightmare (Cassadaga Book 4 (5 page)

“No, no noise. I just wanted to offer him lu-u-u-nch.” The word came out in a long wail. Nightingale gathered Jorie into her arms.

“Okay, well, if you remember anything else
, please call me,” he said, handing Nightingale his business card to give to Jorie when she was done crying.

The medical examiner arrived
and began to examine the body.

“Anything?” Martinez asked.

“Yeah, very recent, within an hour ago. Blunt force trauma to the head, right there,” he said, pointing at the obvious red area on the man’s head. “Hit his temple a good one. All that was needed, just that one whack.”

Jorie began to wail again, hearing the M.E.’s description of the event.

“Jorie, what do you say we go inside now?” Nightingale suggested, pulling the woman along. “We can’t do anything out here anyway.”

They walked inside the house, which was immaculate, Nightingale observed, as she sat Jorie down on a  kitchen chair
.

“Can I get you some coffee?” Nightingale saw there was a big pot on the counter.

“Uh, huh,” Jorie sniveled, nodding her head and rubbing her nose.

“Cream? Sugar?” Nightingale asked.

“Black.”

“Coming right up.” Nightingale reached for a cup and poured the coffee into it, then pushed the cup in between Jorie’s shaking hands.

“So, you didn’t hear any noise?”

“No.”

Nightingale sat down in the other chair. “They think it’s murder.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Who would want to kill Joe?”

Jorie’s eyes blearily looked at Nightingale. “I don’t know…Everyone liked him.”

“Well, someone wasn’t overly fond of him.”

“They poured shit on his head.”

“Yeah, I saw that. Odd.”

“Nightingale, what am I going to do? Joe did everything,” she said, rubbing her nose even redder with the new tissue from the box on the table. “He paid the bills, made the decisions.”

“Don’t worry about that now. I’ll help you when it’s time.”

Detective Martinez stuck his head in the door. “We’ll be wrapping up
, shortly. They’re moving the body right now.”

Jorie looked at the detective over the tissue placed under her nose
, her little blond head bobbing. She said something unintelligible and turned her head away.

“Thank you, Detective Martinez,” Nightingale said. “I’m sure you’ll be in touch.”

~~

Ralph and Helen were seated at a large round table at the Hotel
for the weekly get-together with neighbors. They boldly held hands, smiling at each other during the conversations bantering around them. No one said a word about Helen’s recent run in with law enforcement or that she wasn’t allowed to drive any more. Some things were just best left alone.

“It’s shocking, I just can’t believe it happened,”
Alex stated.

“Yeah, Joe’s death is a shocker,” Ralph remarked.

“No, I meant that I didn’t get elected.” Alex looked adamantly across the table at Ralph. “I was the most qualified.”

No one s
poke in agreement, or disagreement, for that matter. All present at the table thought it best to remain silent.

“And now Joe is gone, so they have to assign someone to the
vacant trustee position.” Alex pulled herself up straighter in her chair, suggesting she should be the one appointed.

Stephano smooth
ed both sides of his hair back from his handsome face with his hands, feeling uncomfortable. “We’ll know soon enough. But it’s such a shame about Joe.”

“
Si,
Joe nice man. Who want to kill him?” Poppy asked. “It make no sense.”

“I’m sure he had enemies,”
Alex said, signaling the waitress she wanted another drink.

“But who? Everyone liked Joe.” Helen chimed in, sipping her Irish coffee.

“Now we have two murders in the community again. It never stops.” Ralph said. “And they think Nightingale might be responsible for her ex-husband’s death. Go figure.”

“She not do it,” Poppy stated.
“And he have lots of enemies, so it be one of them.”

“Hey, guys and girls,” a voice called from behind. “Can I join you?”

It was Latisha, dressed in a bright blue dress with her hair fixed in extensions. This was a new look for her and she wore it well.

“Wow, don’t you look pretty!” Ralph observed. “Join us, sit down.”

“Ah, pretty lady, let me get your chair,” Stephano said, rising from his seat. He pulled out the chair for Latisha and she sat down.

“Thank you, Stephano. Girl, you have such a gentleman here,” she said to Poppy with a smile. “You’re a lucky one. They don’t
usually come that polite
and
handsome.”

Poppy giggled. “
Si
, I know, I lucky.”

Stephano gave Poppy’s cheek a quick kiss as he sat back down.

“We were talking about the two murders before you came in,” Ralph said, trying to bring her up-to-date.

Latisha was a regular at these get-togethers
, along with a few other people who happened to be missing on this particular evening.

“Mercy, can you believe?” she said, turning her attention to the waitress bringing
Alex her next drink. “I’ll have a draft, please. What you drinking, Ralph?”

“Same as you, draft.”

“Good man. You hang onto him, now, Helen.”

Helen smiled and patted Ralph’s arm. “I will.”

“They’ll probably appoint a new trustee at the next board meeting,” Alex said, returning the conversation to where she wanted.

“You think they’ll appoint you?” Latisha asked.

“If they have any common sense.” Alex threw back half her shot and chased it with a couple sips of soda. “I’m the most qualified. What do you think?”

“Hmm, I don’t have an opinion.” Latisha wasn’t
about to step into that mine field.

“Well, I
am
the most qualified.”

“So you said. Several times.” Ralph had tired of
Alex. “Let’s change topics.”

“The police have been coming around, interviewing the neighbors,” Helen informed everyone. “In case you didn’t know. They haven’t talked to me yet about Joe’s murder. I suspect they will. JFK warned me they were coming.”

“JFK?” Latisha asked.

“John Fitzgerald Kennedy, our former president
. But maybe you’re too young to remember him.” Helen took a swallow of her coffee, realizing Latisha was a young woman.

“I wasn’t born yet, Helen, but I
do know who he is.” Latisha grinned over toward Helen. “Such a pity he had to die so young.”

“He’s one of my guides,” Helen said to Latisha. “Best one I have. Never fails to steer me right.”

Latisha smiled at Helen and nodded, deciding not to say anything more on that subject.

“The community dinner is coming up,” Stephano reminded everyone. “I was thinking of bringing a Cuban dish.”

“You cook?” Helen asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“He very good cook,” Poppy inserted with a smile.

“Looks to me like he’s good at everything,” Latisha said. “Cute, too
. Um hmm.”

Alex studied her glass of soda before she spoke. “I think we need to reorganize the community. Open it up for card readings and palmistry.”

Helen all but dropped her cup in her lap. “Alex, how could you say such a thing? This is a Spiritualist community and we have never allowed fortunetelling here.”

“Hey, the world is changing. We have to keep up.”

“We do just fine as we are, we don’t need to change.” Helen sputtered over her words. “Give tarot readings? Why, I never!”

“That’s old thinking. We need to be more New Age,” Alex replied, signaling the waitress again by lifting her empty shot glass into the air.

“Bite your tongue, young woman!” Helen was clearly aghast over such a suggestion. “We may share some similarities with New Age philosophies, but we must stay true to practicing our religion through communication with the unseen. Certainly not by using tools. The very idea is repugnant to me.”

“Well, you have a right to your opinion, Helen, but I have a right to my own.” Alex accepted her shot from the waitress.

“JFK says you’ll never institute tools here,” Helen responded.

“Good for him.” Alex threw the liquid into her mouth in one smooth movement. “And screw his opinions.”

“Ralph, we’re leaving,” Helen announced, standing up and gathering her handbag.

“Yes, dear, I think it’s time to leave as well.”

Everyone at the table started muttering excuses about having to leave and began rising from their chairs. Alex was the only one remaining at the table.

“Waitress, another, please,” she called out loudly.

Eight

Nightingale walked out of her house with the intention of walking to the post office. She noticed a cat standing near her driveway, solid black in color, watching her movements.

It wasn’t unusual to see cats around Cassadaga, they seemed to be all over the place.
But she hadn’t noticed this particular one before. It didn’t have a collar, as far as she could see, so she wondered if it was a stray. Pushing the thought out of her head, she walked to the post office for her mail.

Zach was coming through the door just as she was going inside.

“Hello, Nightingale,” he said in a strong voice.

“Hi, Zach. My condolences for you not getting elected.”

“Depends how you look at it. Maybe it’s a blessing?”

“Well, yes, you could be totally right about that one,” she said with a smile.

“At least I’m still alive.”

Nightingale shook her head. “It’s pathetic to have to consider the possibility that Joe was killed because he won an election, isn’t it?”

“Pathetic is the word, all right.” Zach shuffled from one foot to the next, which he always did when nervous. “Sorry about you and the ex. I heard you were a suspect.”

“Yeah, and that’s equally pathetic.” Nightingale rolled her eyes around. “They can’t come up with a better suspect than me? Really?”

Zach smiled slightly. “Eh, they’re just doing their jobs. They’ll find the person who did it. Eventually.”

“Sooner would be much better than later.”

They ended the conversation on that note and Nightingale walked across the street to the bookstore from there. Chloe was just coming out of the front door.

“Hey, you! When did you get back?” Nightingale called out.

“Last night, late,” Chloe said, hugging her friend.

“I guess you’ve heard all the latest news from Michael?”

“Yes, and I’m so sorry about that thing with your ex. Do they seriously think you had something to do with his murder?” Chloe’s straight dark hair was blowing around in her face. She grabbed the length of it and held it tightly in one hand.

“I seem to be the best su
spect, solely because I’m his ex-wife. Like, he didn’t have a million enemies? Give me a break.” Nightingale placed both hands on her hips in disgust.

“Have you tried to meditate on who it might be?”

“I’m too close to it. I can’t tell.”

“Of course not. I was just going to
post a notice at the Grocery for someone to do gardening for me.” Chloe moved in that direction. “Want to walk over with me?”

“What happened to Peter? He used to handle all of that for you.”

“He’s getting older and less inclined in that direction, so I don’t ask him anymore.”

“Why don’t you ask Ralph? He’s old, but capable. He’d probably do it for cheap.”

“Now, there’s a thought. And I know him, it wouldn’t be a stranger. Thanks for the idea. Let’s go see him now.”

Nightingale
walked with Chloe down the street to Ralph’s place. He happened to be sitting on his porch, looking through what appeared to be his mail.

“Hey there, Ralph,” Chloe called out to him.

“Ah, Chloe, I see you’re back in town.” The old man smiled at the pretty woman as she walked up the three steps to the porch. “Nice to see you. Nightingale, you’re looking pleasant, especially given your circumstances.”

“As pleasant as I can be,” she responded.

“Ralph, would you be interested in doing a little light gardening for me? Nothing too strenuous.” Chloe looked at the man with apprehension, not sure even light gardening would be suitable for him.

“Miss Chloe, I’d do anything for you,” Ralph said, spreading his thin lips over his teeth in a smile, what was left of them, anyway.
“I’m in between assignments anyhow.”

“Oh, that would be just great!”

“When do you want me to start?”