Tippy Toe Murder (6 page)
“No, I don’t,” said Slack impatiently. “Do
as I say, Franny. Give me the poster.”
For a moment, Franny froze, feeling exactly
like a truant caught out of school. Then she lifted the poster. The camera was
in plain view.
“What’s that?” demanded Slack, squinting
through his glasses.
“A video camera. I wanted to show you the
real thief. I set it up behind the poster,” she explained, showing him the hole
she had cut. “A lot of stores use them.”
“Never mind all that,” he said, brushing
aside her explanation. “Where did you get it?”
“I borrowed it from Lucy Stone,” she
explained, trying to remain calm. Her stomach was churning; she dreaded the old
man’s anger.
“You’re incorrigible, Franny,” he said in
his quivery voice. “Now you’re involving your friend. How foolish do you think
I am? I know what those cameras cost, my son, Fred, has one. And you want me to
believe that Lucy Stone lent you one.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“But she did, Mr. Slack. Just call and ask
her.”
“I’ll do no such thing. I know perfectly
well that Lucy Stone could not afford an expensive camera like that, any more
than you could, unless you’d been stealing from me.”
The light in the store suddenly dimmed, but
Franny could see two spots of color appearing in the old man’s cheeks. She
could even smell his stale breath as he leaned toward her.
“Mr. Slack, won’t you at least look at the
tape?” she pleaded, holding out the camera.
“For shame!” he thundered, snatching the
camera out of her hands. “You’re a thief and a liar, Franny!”
“Mr. Slack, Lucy needs the camera for her
daughters’ ballet,” said Franny, struggling to keep her voice even.
“Take your lies and get out. Now!” he
roared. Lowering his voice, he added, “Your services are no longer required.”
He pointed to the door with his long, flat finger. He was quivering, absolutely
shaking with rage. His color wasn’t good, Franny observed, and he was gasping
for breath.
She didn’t want to leave the camera with
him, but she decided she’d better go. Lucy could come back for it later. She
walked softly over to the counter and bent down to take her purse out from the
shelf beneath the register where she kept it. Trembling, fighting off nausea
and dizziness, she mustered every shred of dignity she possessed and walked
straight to the door, looking back only once as she braced herself to push it
open. Once she was outside, she couldn’t help giggling nervously. What a day.
What a horrible old man. As he stood there with his mouth gaping open,
struggling to catch his breath, Franny thought he looked just like a
glassy-eyed codfish flapping on the pier. Oh, well, there was a definite bright
side to all this, she thought as she walked to her car. Now she’d never have to
look at him, or smell him, or have anything at all to do with him ever again.
Put makeup on at
home.
Lucy spent Wednesday morning working in the
garden, pulling out weeds and picking lettuce and sugar snap peas while Sara
played nearby, arranging her doll babies in a toy carriage and feeding them
dandelion soup. It soon grew too muggy and hot to work, so Lucy retreated to
the house. She drew a tall glass of water from the cooler of bottled spring
water that stood in a comer of the kitchen, sat down at the table and dialed
the police station.
“Lucy, how’s every little thing?” asked
Culpepper. “Nothing’s wrong, is it?”
“Oh, no. Everything’s fine. I haven’t seen
you for a while and wondered if you might be coming out this way one of these
days.”
Lucy didn’t agree with the prevailing
opinion that a married woman should have only female friends. She had taken an
immediate liking to Barney Culpepper when he stopped to fix a flat tire for her
soon after she’d moved to Tinker’s Cove. She had gotten to know him better when
they were both members of the Cub Scout Pack Committee. He often dropped by for
a cup of coffee and a chat; he liked to gossip just as much as she did.
When Lucy found Sam Miller’s body in the
Country Cousins parking lot the previous Christmas they had teamed up to find
the killer, but not before Culpepper had almost become a victim himself.
[Editor:
See
Mail-Order
Murder.]
“Well, I do have a dog complaint out near
you,” Culpepper said. “What are you having for lunch?”
Lucy considered the contents of her pantry,
usually depleted by this time of the week. “Tuna?”
“Sold. I’ll see you around twelve.”
After looking out the window to check on
Sara, Lucy decided to get a head start on supper and began slicing a cabbage
for coleslaw. She’d just finished adding the dressing when she heard the crunch
of tires on the gravel driveway.
Lucy waited on the porch while Sara ran
across the lawn to greet the huge police officer. He caught the little girl
under her arms and tossed her high into the air above his head and she screamed
with delight.
“Put her down,” begged Lucy. “If you get
her too excited she’ll never take her nap.”
“Oops, sorry,” apologized Barney. Lucy
couldn’t help thinking he looked like an oversized puppy who’d received a
scolding.
“That’s okay. Come on in. I’ve got a couple
of sandwiches all ready for you. You, too, Sara.”
“So, Barney,” began Lucy once they were all
settled at the round oak table. “What’s the real story about Caro’s
disappearance?”
“What you see is what you get,” said
Barney, finishing his first sandwich in a few bites. “Don’t you read the
papers? Crowley’s suspended the investigation.”
“I can’t believe it. Nobody’s looking for
her?”
“Lucy, she could be anywhere. We can’t
search the whole state, the whole country, the world. Can you imagine the fuss
the Taxpayers’ Association would make at town meeting?” “Well, you can’t
pretend nothing’s happened. A woman’s disappeared!”
“The case is still open,” said Barney. “She’s
been officially declared a missing person. The state police put out an APB with
her description. They’ll send out flyers to post offices and police stations.
There’s even an eight hundred number people can call if they see her. But to
tell you the truth, nobody thinks she’s in any sort of trouble. There was no
sign of violence, and there hasn’t been a ransom note. She also withdrew five
thousand dollars from her savings a few days before she disappeared.”
“What does that mean?” asked Lucy, jumping
on this new piece of information. “Was she being blackmailed?”
“No, Lucy. I think she probably went on
vacation and forgot to tell anyone.”
“Barney, I can’t believe that. She would
never leave George.”
“That’s the part that bothers me,” admitted
Barney. “He’s an awfully nice dog. He’s really gotten to be part of the family.”
“It was nice of you to take him in.” Lucy smiled at him across the table. “Come
on, Sara, aren’t you going to eat your sandwich?”
“I want more tomato chips,” said the little
girl. “Please.” “That’s po-ta-to chips,” corrected Lucy. “You can’t have any
more until you eat your sandwich.”
“That’s not fair,” whined Sara.
“That’s the law,” said Barney, using his
official tone of voice. Lucy was amazed to see Sara obediently begin eating the
sandwich.
“God forgive me, Lucy, but I almost hope
she doesn’t come back. Eddie’s grown so attached to that dog it would break his
heart to give it up.”
“You could get another dog for him. A
puppy.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Listen, Lucy. I wouldn’t
worry about Caro too much. These old ladies do odd things, they get notions in
their heads. We had one old bat call the station the other day saying spacemen
were living in her attic and they were driving her crazy with their Morse code.
It turned out her smoke alarm was beeping ‘cause the battery was running down.”
“From everything I’ve heard about Caro, she
was pretty sharp.”
“Well, that’s where someone like you could
be helpful. Why don’t you ask around and tell me what you hear? I’m not
supposed to, but whenever I get a free minute I pull out the case. I only wish
I had time to do more. Which reminds me, I guess I better get back to work. You
haven’t had any trouble with the Johnsons’ dog, have you?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Thanks for the lunch.” He stood and
put on his hat, then turned to Sara. “I’m glad to see you cleaned your plate.
Now I won’t have to arrest you.”
Sara’s eyes grew very big, but when Barney
winked she decided he might be teasing and gave a cautious little laugh that
stopped abruptly the minute he left.
“Time for your nap,” said Lucy, lifting the
little girl down from her booster chair. “I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you
in.”
Five thousand dollars was a lot of money,
thought Lucy as she cleared the lunch table. What was it for? Maybe Caro did go
on a trip after all. But Lucy still didn’t believe Caro would abandon George.
She remembered the last time she’d seen
them on the logging trail. Caro had thrown a stick for the dog, and he’d
happily retrieved it, tail wagging. When he brought it to her, she fell to her
knees and gave him a big hug. Lucy had been moved by the gesture.
What did she need five thousand dollars
for? Lucy yawned and followed Sara upstairs. If only she weren’t so tired all
the time, maybe she could figure it out. These days, no matter how much sleep
she got, it never seemed to be enough.
The roar of the school bus as it
accelerated for the climb up Red Top Road woke Lucy and she stood up,
stretched, and braced for battle. She heard the screen door slam, and then
heard the familiar sounds of Toby and Elizabeth scuffling as they fought to be
first at the cookie jar again today. This was getting ridiculous.
“You don’t need to fight. There are plenty
of cookies. You may each take four, and don’t stuff them in your mouth, Toby.
Sit down at the table.”
Elizabeth and Toby exchanged glances and
took their seats, expecting a scolding. Lucy poured them each a glass of milk,
and then noticing Sara standing in the doorway, still sleepy from her nap, she
poured a third glass. She sat down, took Sara in her lap, and began outlining
her strategy for the evening.
“Tonight is awards night at the school. It’s
at six, so we’ll have an early supper at five. Don’t go too far from the house,
okay?”
Elizabeth and Toby nodded.
“After supper, you’ll change into your good
clothes—not before, because you might spill something on them, like ketchup.
Okay?” Elizabeth and Toby nodded again.
“I laid your good clothes out on your beds,
and I want you to try them on right after you finish your snack.”
“Do we have to?” groaned Toby.
“You have to. You haven’t worn them since
Easter, and I’m worried they might not fit.”
“What’ll we do if they don’t fit?”
“We’ll improvise. Now off you go.”
Lucy washed the glasses and set them in the
drain board, then she slowly climbed the stairs.
“Don’t come in—I’m not ready,” warned Toby.
“I see London, I see France,” chanted
Elizabeth.
“That’s enough,” said Lucy, slipping a
dress over Sara’s head and buttoning it up the back. She turned the little girl
around, and leaned back to study the dress. “You look very nice. Now let’s see
if your Mary Janes still fit.”
The little patent leather slippers were
tight, but Sara could still cram her feet into them. Elizabeth’s, however, were
hopeless.
“Hang on, I think there’s a pair of white
sandals in that bag of clothes Pam Stillings gave us.” Lucy pulled a rumpled
brown grocery bag out from the back of the girls’ closet and fished around
inside it. “Here they are,” she said, triumphantly producing a pair of barely
worn white summer sandals.
“I can’t wear those, they’re disgusting,”
protested Elizabeth. “They’re hand-me-downs.”
“They’re very nice, and it’s just for one
night. Try them on.” “Why can’t I wear my sneakers?”
“Sneakers look terrible with a dress.”
“I’ll wear pants.”
“I’d like you to wear a dress. Doesn’t Sara
look nice?” “Sara’s only four, and I’m eight. You want me to look like a baby.”
“You won’t look like a baby in the sandals.
Especially if you don’t wear socks. People will think you’re wearing stockings.”
“Really?”
“Sure. All the girls will be jealous.”
“Amy’s mom lets her wear stockings, and
heels. Every day.” “In third grade? I don’t believe it.”
“Well, she does, and she has pierced ears,
too.”
“Next thing you’ll be telling me she wears
black cocktail dresses with sequins,” muttered Lucy, lifting Sara’s dress
carefully over her head.
“Everybody wears black. I’m the only girl
in the third grade who’s not allowed to wear black,” protested Elizabeth, reviving
an old argument.