The Saucy Lucy Murders (22 page)

“Lexie?”

“Yes.”

“This is Jack. You need to come and pick up your aunt right away.”

“Oh, is the bridge game finished so soon?”

“Not exactly.”

Lexie’s heart flip-flopped. She had a really bad feeling. “Is there a problem?”

“I’d prefer to discuss it with you in person.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Good heavens. It had only been a couple of hours since she’d dropped off Aunt Gladys. What kind
of trouble could the batty old broad have possibly gotten into in that short amount of time? Lexie put on her shoes and gathered up her purse.

Eva stopped blowing on her glossy black toenails and flipped hair out of her face. “What’s up, Mom? Where are you going?”

Lexie paused at the door. “To rescue the Sunrise Center from Aunt Gladys.”

“Oh-mi-God. What’s she done now?”

“Who knows? And you’d better quit blowing on your toes or you’re going to hyperventilate and pass out.”

“Whatever.” Eva ignored Lexie. Shaking her head, Lexie hurried out to the saggy-roofed garage to climb into the truck. Teenagers. Couldn’t live with ‘em, couldn’t disown ’em. Now she had Aunt Gladys to stew over. Again she wondered what possible kind of mischief the woman could have gotten herself into in two hours.

Plenty,
a small voice said.

L
EXIE’S TRUCK SPUTTERED AND COMPLAINED
all the way to the Sunrise Center. For the millionth time, she prayed the temperamental vehicle would stay spit-glued together for a couple more years until she could get Eva’s car paid off.
Please, please, please …
It was rotten to be at the mercy of a heap of metal and rubber.

The second Lexie walked inside the senior citizen center, she sensed tension rippling through the air. Young Danny stood at the desk, a frightened look on his face, wringing his hands. In the recreation area, the elderly folks groused at each other in loud voices and Jack Sturgeon stood nearby, restraining one woman with short, steel gray hair and equally gray clothes. Winkie Hightower stood not much further away, restraining Aunt Gladys in similar fashion.

Lexie winced. Maybe she should have worn full
body armor for the battle. Poor Danny looked pretty upset, muttering to himself and rocking back and forth. Feeling sorry for him, she reached into her purse, searching for the piece of peppermint candy she’d picked up at a restaurant and was saving for a bad-breath emergency. Handing it to him, she said, “Here you go, Danny, don’t worry. It’ll be OK.”

Danny stared at her with wide eyes and shook his head. “No, no, no. I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers. That’s what my mom and Granny said.”

“But I’m not a stranger. You and Jack met me earlier, remember?”

His brows knitted in intense concentration, and he said, “Right!” He eagerly unwrapped the candy and popped it into his mouth. Despite the piece of sweet comfort, he resumed wringing his hands while watching the frantic geriatric scenario across the room.

Lexie hurried over. “What’s going on?”

“Gladys Maplethorpe is a cheat and a liar,” the lady in gray proclaimed, chin quivering.

Lexie looked at Jack.

He swept his hand toward the group of assorted seniors. “I’m afraid your aunt convinced everyone to switch from Bridge to Poker. Things got a little confused.”

“No confusion here,” Gray Lady spouted. “The old cow straight up cheated!”

“Did not!” Aunt Gladys roared.

“Did to!” Gray Lady shouted.

“Alice, calm down.” Jack gave Gray Lady a stern look. “I’m sure it was all a mistake. Remember your high blood pressure. Don’t upset yourself.”

“He’s right, Alice,” Winkie added. “Gladys didn’t mean to make anyone angry. Did you, dear?”

Aunt Gladys slowly shook her head, but steam practically emanated from her flared nostrils.

Alice shoved her hands on her hips. “But—”

“I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding,” Lexie interrupted. She looped her arm through Aunt Gladys’. “We’re leaving now.”

Winkie and Sturgeon talked to the elderly group, calming them down, as Lexie dragged her fuming aunt out into the reception area.

“That woman’s deranged,” Aunt Gladys proclaimed. “She needs to be in a loony bin. Why, all we were doing is playing a good old-fashioned poker game and she doesn’t even know what a full house is. In fact, none of them did. It’s practically a crime.”

“Not everyone spent twenty years in Las Vegas gambling every weekend, Aunt Gladys. And not everyone was married to Marty the card shark like you were. Now, let’s go home.”

As they went outside, Winkie came up and took one of Aunt Gladys’s hands, speaking quietly to her. Then a short, pot-bellied gentleman hurried to her side as well, a grin tilting his lips. He had a cap of curly silver hair that gleamed in the sunlight, and he wore a green suit jacket and slacks with a matching green-striped tie. Though his clothing was obviously
of good quality, the colors were a little bright and Lexie decided he looked like a leprechaun straight from the Emerald Isle.

“I know you weren’t cheating, doll,” the leprechaun man told Aunt Gladys in a cultured, almost English accent, eyes twinkling merrily. “You’re just good at cards. Alice is only jealous.”

“Thank you, Frenchie dear,” Aunt Gladys said as she stared adoringly at the portly fellow.

“May I call you sometime? I’d love to escort you to dinner.”

“Of course. I told you I’m staying with my niece Leslie, didn’t I?”

“Right.” He nodded. “ I’ll call you there.” He smiled at her, then shuffled back to the group in the recreation room.

“Who was that?” Lexie asked.

“Ferdinand Duckworth the second,” Winkie said, hugging himself. “Gladys thinks he’s simply divine. And so do I.”

“He’s rolling in the dough,” Aunt Gladys informed her. “He inherited millions.”

Men with money. Aunt Gladys drew them like magnets. “What’s a millionaire like Frenchie doing in Moose Creek Junction?”

“He made big bucks in the perfume industry and has been all over the world, even France, of course. He’s retired now and decided to settle in Moose Creek Junction for a quiet, simple life where he wouldn’t be bothered with high society. Can
you even begin to imagine the life he’s led?” Aunt Gladys fanned herself theatrically.

“Good gravy,” Lexie responded. So, Moose Creek Junction had once seemed pretty harmless to him. Did Ferdinand Duckworth II still think so? After Henry Whitehead’s murder and Elton’s accident?

From the corner of her eye, Lexie noticed Donna Roos, the local realtor’s wife, striding in their direction amid a whirlwind of dry leaves skittering across the sidewalk. A slobbering boxer at the end of the red leather leash she clung to was walking
her,
more than she was walking
him.
When she passed them, Lexie nodded.

Donna, however, merely glanced at her, raised her pinched face, and pressed her thin lips into a hard line. The dog and Donna kept on walking as though Lexie were invisible.

Something clicked in her mind and she remembered reading an article in
The Moose Creek Junction Chronicle
about the recent frightening drop in the local real estate market. Since the early nineties, when recreational mountain property around Rawhide City and the Ice Queen Resort skyrocketed, investors had purchased property further south in Moose Creek Junction where prices were more reasonable. But the property sales boom had mysteriously stopped.

Oh my gosh!

Were people blaming her for the plummeting property values? Did they think no one was buying
land because there was a murderer on the loose and it might be her? Even though no one could prove Lexie had anything to do with Henry’s death and Elton’s accident, she was associated with the incidents. That alone made her suspect, especially to small town minds. A sense of unease washed over her and she tried to ignore it, but to no avail.

It was absolutely unfair for people to treat her like this. How could they be so petty?

Despite Lexie’s outrage, she realized Donna’s ridiculous snub wasn’t worth worrying about. She had other matters with Aunt Gladys to attend to, and she focused on helping her blabbering aunt get settled into her truck.

Winkie spoke with Aunt Gladys in sympathetic tones and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you for your help with Aunt Gladys, Winkie,” Lexie said as she shut the passenger door, still able to hear her aunt’s prattling.

“Do try to convince the poor dear to get some rest this afternoon,” Winkie said. “She’s gotten herself in such a dither and it can’t be good for her health.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lexie said, “but she’s pretty hard headed.”

“Just like always.” Winkie put his hands on his hips. “I’ll call her later to see how she’s doing.”

As he walked back into the Sunrise Center, Jack Sturgeon left the building and approached Lexie.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he told her, an apologetic look on his face.

Lexie shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. My aunt has a way of irritating people. It’s just what she does.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry it ended this way.” He smiled. “And I know it may not be the best timing, but I’d like to see you again.”

Lexie fought to keep the surprise out of her expression. “I suppose it could be arranged,” she managed to answer. Oh, brother, she sounded like she was setting up an appointment to have furniture delivered!

“How about a movie Saturday night?”

Finally, a date Sister Lucy didn’t have to set up for her. Jack Sturgeon had all his hair and teeth, too, and he hadn’t salivated over her cleavage. Lexie was stunned. “Um, sure. How about I meet you at the old Jefferson Theater for the main feature?”

“Great.” Jack winked, then turned and walked back into the Sunrise Center.

Lexie watched him go, still amazed. Miracles
can
happen, she told herself.

Still concerned about what to do with Aunt Gladys, but looking forward to her date with Jack, Lexie hopped into her truck and drove home, barely hearing Aunt Gladys’ complaints. On a whim, she pulled into the Loose Goose Emporium parking lot underneath a canopy of tree branches covered with dry brown leaves.

“What are you doing?” Aunt Gladys grabbed onto the cracked dashboard. “You’re driving like a maniac. I’d be better off hoofing it around town on a skateboard than letting you play chauffer.”

“We need toilet paper. You just stay put while I go grab some.” Lexie ignored Aunt Gladys’ look of irritation when she got out of the truck.

The Loose Goose Emporium—why Fred and Bertie Creekmore had decided on that name was beyond Lexie—was housed in the old red brick DeLacy building originally built in 1885. It sported typical Victorian gingerbread trim, cupolas, a wrap-around porch, balconies, and many beautiful stained glass windows. The building had survived a vast assortment of incarnations as well as fires, floods, blizzards, and drought, though the present lack of rain wasn’t the first dry spell Wyoming had ever suffered.

First built by one of Moose Creek Junction’s founding fathers as an upscale home in one of the finer neighborhoods of the time, it had later become a mercantile and dry goods store, then a restaurant, another time a dress shop and for a while the town library. But the DeLacy building’s most infamous incarnation by far was when it was called the Saddle Up Saloon.

Men from all walks of life frequented the Saddle Up: bankers and lawyers, outlaws and ruffians alike. For a price, Hattie Bookman’s gals entertained them for an hour, or for the night, and her ladies didn’t come cheap. They shimmied their buxom shapes into beautiful Parisian gowns, swished ostrich fans and served their clients the finest liquor and food. Men came for miles around to visit the saloon and partake of its delights.

The existence of the world’s oldest profession was common in frontier towns and Moose Creek Junction was no different. As long as the girls paid their monthly fines and didn’t cause trouble, the local law enforcement looked the other way. Besides, Hattie’s loose women gave all the good ladies of society a night or two off while their husbands were otherwise engaged. It also helped that the shady ladies were philanthropic, sharing their wealth with the Orphans’ Society, the Ladies’ Sewing League, and other charitable organizations. The soiled doves also had purchasing power and were good for the local economy.

At the moment, the Loose Goose Emporium, while not having such a notorious reputation as the Saddle Up, filled a niche in Moose Creek Junction society. There was a large grocery store in Weston-ville if you had the time to make the 45-minute trip. For quicker errands, one could find plenty at the Loose Goose; milk, bread, eggs, cereal, Hamburger Helper, a small assortment of meats, canned goods, and necessary paper items. Actually, Bertie made it a point to stock a little of everything from personal hygiene items to cosmetics and a small supply of clothing. Since the Loose Goose had gone into business in the early seventies, nobody had an excuse to suffer without the necessities.

Lexie glanced at the over-sized wooden goose on the store sign. She remembered staring at it as a little girl and wondering if a real goose had posed for the
portrait or if someone had painted it from memory. Why that had mattered to her, Lexie didn’t remember. The goose looked tired and worn from age, just like she was.

Inside she took a small plastic cart from the front of the store that of course had gimpy, squeaky wheels—par for the course—then made a beeline for the paper goods and chose a 24-pack of bathroom tissue. A sudden thought occurred to her and she swerved down another aisle to the office and art supplies where she picked up a stack of velvet-backed paint-by-number kits. She headed to the wooden checkout counter that used to be the bar and still had a large, ornate mirror from the Saddle Up days hanging behind it.

“Well, as I live and breathe, if it isn’t the town floozie herself.” Violet Whitehead tossed her brunette head at Lexie and grabbed another chocolate from the box sitting next to her, popping it into her mouth. She licked her chubby fingers then chewed furiously on the candy. After she swallowed, she stared at Lexie and spat, “Stolen anyone else’s husband lately?”