Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 03 - The Ladybug Song (3 page)

Chapter 5

Ossie
Conger, Willie Moccasin, and Blue Trent served as the community’s main radar center
where little of social note slipped by them. No detail was too trivial to
escape their vigilance. Their wooden bench fronted the Lagos Azul Florist Shop freshly
painted sky blue and dusty apricot back on May Day. The old codgers spent a large
portion of their day catnapping. One of them always remained awake and watchful
so as not to miss anything and to keep the others apprised.

Alma
liked to tease Isabel about how Ossie was growing sweet on
her. Alma had overheard him refer to Isabel as “a good ole gal.” She wasn’t nearly
as amused when Alma passed on Ossie’s quote. This time Isabel had a comeback
ready after Alma poked fun at her again.

“Can you picture
the future if I get hitched to Ossie?” asked Isabel.

“You will
be setting a third place at the table,” said Alma, displaying her good-humored
grin.

“You better
run another head count,” said Isabel.

“What are
you driving at, Isabel?”

“You’ll
have to vacate the brick rambler. Two sisters living with one gentleman under
the same roof would not look good and proper.”

Alma
’s levity evaporated on the spot. “Ouch,” she said.

“Be ready
because the pain only gets worse,” said Isabel. “Naturally Petey Samson would stay
with Ossie and me.”

Her eyes
enlarging, Alma groaned. “That’s not fair because he is half my dog, too.”

“Plus which,
don’t overlook our trove of mysteries,” said Isabel, referencing the large room
with the filled bookshelves they called their personal library. “They’d be too numerous
for you to pack in boxes, haul away, and shelve in your new scaled-down place.”

Alma
groaned louder. “Having none of my vintage mysteries to read
would be too much to bear.”

“Then if
I were you, I’d change my tune and make sure Ossie and I don’t get cozy with
each other.”

Alma
nodded, fearful of facing the ghastly scenario Isabel had
laid out. “On second thought, Ossie would never measure up to your beloved Max.
Besides, we have no idea if Ossie would disapprove of our snooping activities
and try to squelch them.”

“Of
course not since we aren’t mind readers,” said Isabel. “So cool it with playing
Cupid with Ossie and me.”

“I’m
hanging up my bow and arrows,” said Alma. “I know what let’s do. Make up a
pretense to remove your shoe and show your crusty, yellow bunions to Ossie. That
ugly sight would nip any romance in the bud.”

“Maybe I better
save that as a last resort,” said Isabel. “Otherwise the Three Musketeers will feel
led to show off their scars and warts.”

Alma
made a face. “That is a sight I do not ever need to see.”

“Frankly,
a comet falling from the heavens will strike us dead before Ossie and I tie the
knot,” said Isabel.

“You also
don’t have an appropriate dress or shoes for getting married,” said Alma. “Your shopping for the right ones would take you weeks.”

“Then
it’s settled,” said Isabel.

Strolling
between Isabel and Alma, Phyllis spoke. “Ossie is a nice enough gentleman, but
I cherish my independence too much to give it up for the yoke of marriage.”

“You
aren’t just whistling ‘Dixie,’” said Alma.

“Hush before
the gentlemen overhear us,” said Isabel.

“Willie
and Blue are napping on the bench,” said Alma.

“But Ossie
is waking them up,” said Isabel.

Isabel,
Alma, and Phyllis halted in front of the flower shop. This cool morning found the
trio of men dressed in matching bright orange Aloha shirts. Their dog tags on
bead chains and cell phones on strap lanyards dangled around their necks. At
their advanced ages, they felt blessed to lay claim to having all of their original
teeth, hips, and knees. They sat on bleacher seat cushions padding the wooden
bench. While they didn’t outright lie, they also never let the facts get in the
way of their telling a lively story.

Their
discarded jackets lay piled up on the far end of the wooden bench. During the
winter months, Sheriff Fox had forbidden them from firing up a burn barrel for
warmth, so they moved the wooden bench to inside the flower shop and gawped out
its plate glass storefront.

Corina, the
proprietress, was Willie’s good-hearted grandniece who tolerated the three old
codgers. Willie helped out behind the counter during the busy seasons while
Blue and Ossie played her door greeters. If either of them saw a lady customer
without a smile, they gave the lady customer a pink carnation.

The gray charmer
Ossie was the first to hail the ladies. “What’s the good word, Isabel?” he
asked.

Knowing Ossie
wooing Isabel might throw a monkey wrench into the sisters’ sleuthing fun Alma was brusque. “We are fine, thank you very much, Mr. Conger.”

Isabel
tried to smooth over Alma’s scrappy response. “How are you doing today,
gentlemen?”

“Upright
and burning oxygen,” replied Willie. “Therefore it counts as a good day.”

“Aren’t
you cold sitting outdoors in your shirtsleeves?” asked Isabel.

“Nary a single
goose bump,” replied Willie. “We fought in the big war, and a brisk day like this
one invigorates the old warriors’ blood to course through our veins.”

Phyllis
who’d slept through her U.S. History class was confused. “Which big war do you mean,
Willie?”

“I’ll
have you know I did my military service in the South Pacific,” replied Willie.
“Meantime Ossie and Blue soldiered over there in Western Europe.”

“Did you fib
about your ages to the draft board?” asked Phyllis.

“Many of
us did, and the recruiters weren’t picky,” replied Willie. “They needed warm
bodies to fill the ranks, so they took us right on.”

“What marvelous
tales we GI Joes brought back with us,” said Blue filled with nostalgia. “I can
recall this petite, raven-haired mademoiselle I met on the outskirts of liberated
Paris. She was super nice, and I gave her gifts of chocolates and nylons. We slipped
back to her one-room flat and—”

“Blue, excuse
me for butting in, but the ladies didn’t stop to hear us tell our war stories,”
said Ossie. “What might be on your minds, Isabel?”

Isabel wasted
no time getting to the point. “Ladybug Miles is what.”

Ossie had
a short nod. “I suspected as much when I saw you coming this way.”

“Ladybug
was a stand-up gal,” said Blue. “We chatted with her every now and then. She
always had a quick smile and a kind word ready for us.”

“She
won’t anymore,” said Phyllis, her voice quavering with emotion.

“We are truly
sorry for your loss, Phyllis,” said Blue. “I know of a few other victims who drowned
in the Coronet River. The undertow and sticky quicksand make its seemingly placid
waters treacherous. It isn’t a place to treat lightly if a swimmer dives into
the river.”

“Ladybug
wasn’t a drowning victim but the victim of foul play,” said Phyllis. “Her alleged
drowning covered up her murder. We’ve got yet another one on our hands.”

Surprised
murmurs droned along the bench. The men’s scowls, jutted chins, and corded
throat muscles showed how upset they were. Murder was the lurid talk of the
town, but lately there had been too much lurid talk going on.

“Who discovered
Ladybug’s dead body afloat in the river?” asked Isabel.

“Old Man
Winslow while going catfishing ran into the shock of his life,” replied Ossie. “He’s
left for St. Pete with his wife and Pekinese, and the wuss said there is a likely
chance they won’t return next spring.”

Blue shared
his view on why he thought murder had struck their town again. “Poor Ladybug
died at the hands of an interloper,” he said.

“Sorry
but I don’t quite follow you,” said Ossie. “Be so kind as to enlighten us on what
you think an interloper is.”

“An interloper
is the outsider who isn’t a Quiet Anchorage native,” replied Blue. “They moved
here from somewhere else with their uncouth ways, strange accents, and
different moral values.”

Willie
nodded. “Everywhere I look now I see another teardown, and a cookie-cutter
McMansion replaces a nice house. Or a new subdivision or strip mall has sprouted
up where a family farm was sold off in pieces to a commercial developer. The
scuttlebutt says a big box store is in the pipeline, and you just know a theme
park can’t be coming along too far behind it.”

“It boggles
the mind,” said Blue. “Just yesterday morning Jumpy Blixt over at the IGA was
telling me how Slim Orszulak’s home place has attracted a buyer. Oh what a joy,
I thought because a fleet of dump trucks, earthmovers, and bulldozers are en
route to erect a new strip mall. Why do we need another one? I get so angry I
could eat nails.”

“The idiom
you want to use is
spit
,
not eat, nails,” said Willie.

“How
might you spit nails without first putting them into your mouth?” asked Blue.

“I’m
correcting your idiom, not trying to explain it,” replied Willie.

“I’m
sorry as all get-out I’m not as erudite as you are,” said Blue.

“Consider
me better read than you since I constantly strive to improve my mind,” said
Willie.

“Willie, might
we stop singing your praises and get back on the ladies’ concerns?” asked Ossie.

“Far be
it from me to stand in the way of discussing a grave matter like murder,” said Willie.

“Thank
you for the pun and for yielding the floor,” said Ossie. He looked up at the
ladies. “Anybody who has seen the Coronet River lately knows it doesn’t contain
enough water for a meadowlark to take a bath in it. How anybody could think a
swimmer drowned there baffles me.”

“The
Coronet’s main channel runs deeper and swifter than you may realize,” said Willie.
“Maybe that’s the part where Ladybug drowned in.”

“A reliable
source has told us she was discovered where there is less than a foot of
water,” said Isabel.

Blue squinted
with shrewd appraisal at Isabel. “Could your reliable source be none other than
Sheriff Fox?”

Isabel
shrugged, fearful her slip of the tongue had revealed the secret and broken
their promise to him.

The
gallant Ossie came to her rescue. “It’s not important whether or not the ladies
are helping Sheriff Fox. It also will not go any further than spoken here if he
did ask them. Are we straight on that, gents?”

“My lips
are sealed,” replied Willie.

“Loose
lips still sink ships,” replied Blue.

“We’ve
not heard anything about Ladybug,” said Willie. “Give us a day, and I expect
we’ll know a little more. The sensational rumors will be breezing through the
streets of our hamlet like a springtime zephyr.”

“Cue the
trumpets,” said Blue. “The erudite Willie used another five-dollar word—zephyr.”

“Please
hold your applause,” said Willie. “Wasn’t there also a doo-wop band from Brooklyn named the Zephyrs? I saw it recently on
Jeopardy
under the always tough Pop
Music category.”

“Willie
and Blue, zip it and let’s agree to chip in and help our friends,” said Ossie.

“There
was never any question about it,” said Blue.

“Thank
you, gentlemen,” said Isabel. “We knew we could depend on you to step up.”

“We’re happier
than a hog is in sunshine and mud to do it,” said Willie.

“Local intelligence
gathering is our specialty,” said Ossie. “We do it better than anybody, including
the two ladies across the street at Clean Vito’s.”

“It’s
not a competition, Ossie,” said Isabel knowing he meant Rosie McLeod and Lotus
Wang over at the launderette.

“Just
saying,” said Ossie. “If you want the fastest, truest results, come and see the
experts first and save a little time. We are also a whole lot nicer to deal
with than Lotus when she gets on her high horse.”

“Amen to
that, brother,” said Blue.

“We’ll
be sure to heed your wise advice,” said Alma.

Chapter 6

They were
at the spot where Sheriff Fox had retrieved Ladybug’s waterlogged dead body.
Sammi Jo had caught up with Isabel, Alma, and Phyllis. When Sammi Jo heard how
Sheriff Fox had asked for their assistance, she was shaking her head.

“I do not
believe it,” she said. “If his lips are moving, he is lying to you.”

“Roscoe
can be a pill at times,” said Isabel.

“He’s got
a trick up his sleeve to pin Ladybug’s murder on somebody,” said Sammi Jo. “We all
know he’s had lots of practice at doing that.”

Isabel appreciated
Sammi Jo’s wariness. “Granted he’s cagey, but he’s not creative or clever
enough to fool us if we keep a sharp eye peeled on him.”

Before
Sammi Jo could further object, Alma held up her palm, making a halt gesture. “Let
the record show everybody here knows to be careful since Sheriff Fox’s tongue
has more forks than are set out on the tables at Eddy’s Deli.”

“Our four
pairs of eyes should be able to see if Sheriff Fox and his deputies are up to
no good,” said Phyllis.

“Make
that seven pairs with the Three Musketeers helping us,” said Alma.

Isabel
inspected the terrain surrounding them. Here the riverbank’s gentle slope was clear
of the American sycamores, tulip poplars, and black walnuts that liked to grow
along its moist banks. Autumn’s painterly reds, oranges, and yellows had started
to tinge the leaves. The macadam state road curved into a gradual bend a
softball toss away from them.

They grouped
by the sisters’ dusty blue sedan, large-sized for easier access in and out of
it, parked in the sandy clearing. Three rings of stones marked where the old
campfires had burned, and the swimmers had used the discarded willow sticks
sharpened on their ends for roasting frankfurters.

The river’s
woodsy odor reminded Sammi Jo of wet peat moss or pine mulch. The air’s chill
reminded her it was already October, and a shiver tracked through her. She
recognized it also came from her unsettling fear of the killer who might be hiding
behind a tree and spying on them. To think somebody murdered Ladybug here a
short while ago was inconceivable.

 “The water
isn’t all that shallow,” said Isabel at the river’s edge. “Sheriff Fox’s twelve
inches fall a little on the short side. I’m inclined to believe he just eyeballed
it from standing on the bank and never waded out into the water.”

Sammi Jo
led Alma and Phyllis over to Isabel’s vantage point. The clear water permitted them
to see down to the sandy bottom.

“It could
be her physical exertions while swimming triggered a fatal heart attack,” said Alma. “The lack of the autopsy results leaves us with having to make too many wild guesses.”

“Her completed
autopsy could be weeks away,” said Isabel. “I know it’s frustrating, but we shouldn’t
rely on gaining any useful information from it.”

Rubbing
the back of her neck, Phyllis gazed over the river to the opposite shore. A
pair of goldfinches (the female had the duller plumage) flitted about and tweezed
the milk white silk from the dried up flowers in the patch of old bull thistles.

She used
a flat intonation. “Sorry, Ladybug, but it’s looking more like you’ll be another
cold statistic in the unsolved murders column.”

“We’ve
just gotten started so take heart,” said Isabel, giving the dejected Phyllis a
reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“There’s
no question about it,” said Alma. “At least give us a fair chance to see this case
through to the end before you throw in the towel.”

Sammi Jo
stooped beside the water’s edge. She dipped her fingers into it, removed them,
and flicked off the drops. “The water temperature feels comfortable enough to
go for a swim, not that I want to take the plunge today.”

“Did Ladybug
use the Quiet Anchorage swimming pool?” asked Isabel.

“She was a
dues-paying club member,” replied Phyllis.

 “Since
the swimming pool closed after Labor Day, she had nowhere else to swim except in
the river,” said Alma. “Did she prefer to go alone?”

“She did
even if she knew it wasn’t a safe thing to do,” replied Phyllis. “I offered to
go with her anytime, but she never phoned me before she went.”

“Do you have
a spare key to her townhouse?” asked Isabel.

“She never
had a door key cut for me,” replied Phyllis. “Sheriff Fox probably has an extra
key he can lend us.”

“Stopping
by his office and borrowing the key from him will be a strange experience,”
said Alma. “For once we get his cooperation when we’re usually at loggerheads
with him.”

“Sammi
Jo, I can see you are frowning,” said Isabel. “Is something else the matter?”

Turning, Sammi
Jo with a case of shaky nerves looked around them. “This was a popular swimming
hole for me and my high school friends. We often came here and enjoyed our fun.
On summer afternoons, we floated downriver on old tractor inner tubes, or at night,
we built a roaring bonfire to dance around it. However, right now it feels very
different. I am getting a new creepy vibe from being here, and I don’t like it.”

“Quiet Anchorage has undergone a sea change over the past five years,” said Isabel.

“Too many
folks from elsewhere have moved here,” said Phyllis. “They’re destroying our
way of life, but I’m not sure how we can stem the tide. Everybody has the right
to put down roots where they want to live.”

“But they
don’t have the right to take another person’s life,” said Alma.

“Do you
believe like Blue does that a newcomer is responsible for Ladybug’s murder?”
asked Isabel.

“We should
consider it as a possibility,” replied Alma. “Murder was by and large unheard of
until the population shot up like it has. The most criminal activity we experienced
was the time Willie littered the sidewalk with his woodcarving shavings, and
Sheriff Fox had the nerve to fine him twenty-five dollars for it.”

“The next
morning Sheriff Fox discovered the four tires on his cruiser were flat as griddles,”
said Sammi Jo. “You know the old saying about don’t get mad, get even.”

“Old Willie
can be a bobcat if you dare to cross him,” said Phyllis.

“Unless
you ladies want to see more, the goose bumps covering my forearms are saying now
is a good time for us to leave,” said Alma.

“I
thought you’d never get around to saying it,” said Sammi Jo who’d already headed
back for the parked sedan.

Before
following her friends, Isabel took a deliberate scan of the swimming hole.
While she didn’t put much stock in folks’ psychic ability, she felt as if
they’d missed observing something important concealed here. She made a self-bet
they would be returning before it was all finished.