Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 03 - The Ladybug Song (6 page)

Chapter 11

Isabel looked
at Sammi Jo. “Have you had the time to poke around much?”

Sammi Jo
surveyed Ladybug’s tasteful suite of living room furniture. It included the
sofa, two armchairs, low coffee table, and two end tables. The sunflower yellow
ginger jar lamp on each end table was a recent acquisition. The darker gold
carpet underfoot carried the new carpet smell and looked freshly vacuumed. The
room looked picked up as if Ladybug had not tolerated the slightest clutter or speck
of dirt complicating her life.

“I gave
the downstairs a hasty go-through while I waited for you,” replied Sammi Jo.

“Did
anything worthy of note turn up?” asked Alma. “Did you find the killer’s signed
confession hidden inside the breadbox, for instance?”

“I’m
afraid my lucky streak ended after I got past the locked door,” replied Sammi
Jo.

“It’s a
pity how good luck can only get a sleuth so far,” said Alma.

“Right
off, something doesn’t appear kosher,” said Isabel with a circular gaze.
“Ladybug was retired, so she spent a lot of time at home, but her place looks too
neat and orderly. Her rooms should look more lived-in and messier where I’d
expect to see a ladies magazine left out on the sofa or a diet soda can on the coffee
table.”

“She may
have used a professional cleaning service,” said Alma. “Several ladies in town get
in enough work to do that for a living.”

“The housekeepers
usually come once a week,” said Isabel. “This living room looks too spick and
span.”

“Where
are you taking this point?” asked Alma.

“What if
Ladybug’s murderer sneaked in here and searched for whatever he was after? What
if to cover his tracks he tidied up things but went a little overboard while he
was doing it?”

“What interested
him so much in here?” asked Alma.

“I can make
at least one speculation,” replied Isabel. “Maybe Ladybug was blackmailing him,
and he felt desperate enough to put a stop to it. He killed her and broke in
here to retrieve the damning evidence like his DNA left on an object that she
was holding over him.”

“Isabel,
we’re talking about Phyllis’s best friend,” said Alma. “Not a hardened career
criminal with a rap sheet as long as your rolling pin who is capable of committing
murder and blackmail.”

“What if
Ladybug wasn’t the nice lady she led us to believe she was?” asked Isabel.
“Suppose she lived with a dark secret? Suppose she had a shady past?”

Alma turned to Sammi Jo. “Does your Aunt Phyllis have some dirt on Ladybug she hasn’t shared
with us?”

 “I
believe Aunt Phyllis has told us everything she can remember, or she knows
about Ladybug,” replied Sammi Jo.

“There
goes your latest theory,” said Alma to Isabel.

“Then let’s
spread out and be sure to look high and low in each room,” said Isabel,
breaking out the 3X magnifying glass she carried in her pocketbook.

“What
are you doing with that?” asked Alma, pointing.

“You are
the one who called it a tool of our trade,” replied Isabel, polishing to clean its
lens on her sleeve.

“I mean
keep your naked eyes peeled for any clues,” said Alma.

“Hey, back
off, little sister,” said Isabel. “You do your sleuthing your way, and I’ll do
my sleuthing my way.”

Alma looked at Sammi Jo. “Isabel is trying to get my goat for the iced teas I insisted we stop
and order from Eddy’s Deli. But I am too wise to her ways to freak out.”

Isabel moving
the 3X magnifying glass back and forth inspected the top of the coffee table.
When Sammi Jo glanced at her, Isabel couldn’t resist winking since she felt as
if she had indeed gotten Alma’s goat.

***

Isabel
and Alma combed the downstairs while Sammi Jo climbed the steps and poked
through the four upper rooms that included the hall bath. She saw Ladybug had
lived, for the most part, on the lower floor as evidenced by the emptiness in all
but one bedroom. Sammi Jo envied Ladybug for having had so much spare living area.
Sammi Jo would trade just about anything short of her old family photo album
for an extra closet or cupboard in her cramped efficiency apartment.

She’d been
intending to occupy the Cape Cod located not that far from Quiet Anchorage that
had belonged to her late father Ray Burl. For one reason or the other, she’d postponed
making the move even though the Cape Cod offered closets, three bedrooms, and a
larger kitchen with a dishwasher. Her landlord Eustis Blake, the town
pharmacist and drugstore owner, was a heck of a nice guy, and she hated to
leave him. They kidded around a lot and liked each other enough to be good friends.

It wasn’t
prudent to leave the Cape Cod unattended, and she’d wanted to keep a closer eye
on it. Something more important, for instance like this present murder case,
always came up. She’d bring a broom rake to clean up the locust tree pods dropped
on the lawn. She’d also wear stout shoes for the locust thorns. The prospect of
performing yard work on top of her regular job at the self-storage rental
facility left her feeling tired. However, her commitment right now was to assist
Isabel and Alma.

Walking
through Ladybug’s rooms unnerved Sammi Jo, but she didn’t retreat downstairs. Seeing
all the empty space, she wondered if Ladybug had been a lonely person while she
lived here by herself. Sammi Jo had been on her own since graduating from high
school, and she stayed busy enough with her various activities to ever feel lonely.

Reynolds
was usually around her enough to distract her from dwelling on her solitary
life. Of course, she also had some expectation they’d get married at some point
down the road. Ladybug had already been through all that stuff. Perhaps she’d
reached the place in her life where she just wanted some peace and quiet when
she was at home.

Sammi Jo found
Ladybug’s exercise bike, a towel draped over its handlebar, in the last bedroom.
Then Sammi Jo moved the hardback chair into the hallway, flipped on the light
switch, and climbed up on the seat. She accessed the attic through the push-up
panel in the ceiling. Nothing occupied the lit up space except for the uneven
layer of pink fiberglass insulation covering the floor. When she heard Alma hollering from the bottom of the stairs, Sammi Jo put everything like it was and went
to the stairhead.

“Sorry
but I couldn’t understand you,” she said, looking down.

Alma
had a sheepish smile. “I was too lazy to huff up the
stairs, so I tried yelling it. I said Isabel and I have to leave and get Petey
Samson at the vet’s office.”

Sammi Jo descended
halfway down the stairs. “I thought Petey Samson is supposed to stay overnight,”
she said.

“We can
do a better job of caring for Petey Samson post-op than Dr. Ruffian can.”

“Why
don’t you drop me off at Aunt Phyllis’s townhouse? I can bring her up to speed about
our search made in here.”

“Doing that
shouldn’t take you long.”

“Then I
guess your search was as futile as mine was.”

Alma
shrugged a little. “Don’t let it get you down, kiddo. Sometimes
we find clues of no use right then, but later they take on significance.
Meantime we’ll go back to the drawing board.”

“Our old
drawing board gets a lot of use,” said Isabel.

Alma
turned to her, asking, “Did your magnifying glass reveal
anything? Does your home invasion idea hold up? Did somebody with evil
intentions break into Ladybug’s townhouse after she was murdered?”

“My closer
inspection leads me to think she was just a neat person by habit,” replied
Isabel. “So, I have put my earlier suspicions to rest.”

“Then we
should count that as having made progress and leave,” said Alma.

“Of
course I reserve the right to revisit here,” said Isabel.

“I’m not
sure I can pick the front door lock again,” said Sammi Jo.

“We’ll
leave one of the downstairs windows cracked a wee bit,” said Isabel. “We can raise
it and wriggle through the space later if need be.”

“Brilliant
idea,” said Alma. “I wished I had thought of it first.”

Chapter 12

Sammi
Jo’s boyfriend Reynolds Kyle owned and operated the local drag race track. Their
relationship was an evolving one. It could either take the path of them veering
apart or them merging. She didn’t know which direction they were headed. She proceeded
with caution because she wasn’t about to open her heart and let him in to break
it even if she’d fallen head over heels in love with him.

She’d dated
a couple of egotistical men, and those relationships had gone nowhere fast. She
was a smart cookie, as Isabel and Alma liked to say about her. At the same time,
she also had her tender emotions to protect under her tough façade. She had
discussed the complex topic of romance with Isabel, the more introspective while
also articulate of the Trumbo sisters.

“Max and I
met here in town,” said Isabel. “I was all of age seven, and he was almost eight.
We passed by each other with our mothers inside of what is now Jumpy Blixt’s IGA.”

“Aw, that’s
sweet,” said Sammi Jo. “Did you hear the wedding bells chime in your heart? Were
the tossed dried lavender buds already caught in your hair?”

Sammi
Jo’s sentimental questions made Isabel smile. “Nothing so earth-moving like that
happened. In fact, I’m not certain my first impression of Max was a favorable
one. My mother Gwendolyn once called him a little whippersnapper, and she was
right. The cheeky boy turned around and stuck out his tongue while pulling on
his ears at me. I burst out giggling, and, from that moment on, he could always
make me laugh. That is what really sold me on him.”

“Was Max
a flirt?” asked Sammi Jo, her tone mischievous.

“Was Max
a flirt?” Isabel laughed and clapped her hands. “My land, you wouldn’t have
believed it unless you heard the silver-tongued devil speak with your own two
ears. His blarney could put Don Juan or Romeo to shame.”

“When did
Max first kiss you? Do you remember the moment like it was yesterday?”

Isabel
shook her head. “You’ve got it backward. I made the first move and kissed him.
It caught him off-guard just the way I planned it.”

“You were
quite the devil yourself. What did Max and you like to do for fun?”

“I have two
words: Charlie Parker.”

“Charlie Parker
is a new to me. Is he related to Dennis Parker the cabinetmaker living by the Odd
Fellows Hall?”

“There is
no relation. Charlie Parker was a jazz musician based in New York City. They called
him Bird. Max and I were his avid fans.” Isabel looked at Sammi Jo. “Have you had
the opportunity to hear a bebop jazz piece?”

“My radio
dial stays glued to the Country and Western music stations. Reynolds is a
steak-and-potatoes dude who doesn’t handle change or experimentation as well
I’d like him to do. I’ve just gotten him to eat Chinese takeout to introduce a
little variety to our diets.”

“Then you
owe it to yourself to give Charlie Parker a listen. He’s a genuine treat who Max
once saw play live with trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie and Bud Powell on piano. Max
returned from New York City full of lively yarns. He told the story of how Charlie
Parker once rode a rented white palomino down the middle of Seventh Avenue.”

“New York City is a long way from Quiet Anchorage and a big step up in the world for a
country boy like Max,” said Sammi Jo. “Why did he go up there?”

“Max
never gave me a reason, but then I never asked him for one either,” replied
Isabel. “Most lucky for him the New York City trip came before we made our engagement
formal. Otherwise, I would’ve had some straightening out to do as I would to a bent
pipe cleaner. I feel safe in assuming he wanted to sow his wild oats before he
was ready to settle down. But he quickly discovered he’d have to buy the cow if
he expected to get the milk if you catch my meaning.”

Sammi Jo
nodded with an impish smile she caught Isabel’s meaning.

Isabel
went on chronicling their love story. “We never slept a single night apart
after we exchanged our wedding vows, and I came to understand how they mean you
really are bound together until death.” She paused, giving Sammi Jo a shrewd
look. “When are Reynolds and you planning to get engaged?”

Sammi Jo had
a half-hearted shrug. “We’re stuck at doing the stuff high school kids like to do.
It’s mostly been attending Lynyrd Skynyrd concerts and such, but my high school
days are history, and neither of us is getting any younger if you catch my meaning.”

“Time has
a sneaky way of slipping away if you aren’t watchful,” said Isabel. “I’m feeling
it more keenly with each passing year.”

“Do you
like Reynolds’ new soul patch?” asked Sammi Jo. “I’m sitting on the fence about
whether I do or not.”

“The soul
patch gives him a jazzy flair like trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie’s soul patch did,”
replied Isabel.

“Reynolds
has been a good sport about quitting his cigarettes,” said Sammi Jo.

“Best
move he’s ever made, trust me.”

“Maybe I
better stop while I’m still ahead instead of pushing him to make a firmer
commitment.”

“That
makes sense.”

“On the
other hand, I won’t let our relationship coast merrily along like has been for much
longer, so a three-month wait should be about right.”

Isabel
shook her head. “Better yet, make it three weeks and then you give his leash a good
stiff yank. Either he comes along with you, or you undo his leash.”

“Doing that
sounds painful, Isabel.”

She nodded.
“Sometimes young love experiences its growing pains. Just don’t let him grow too
complacent and start to take you for granted.”

“Did Max
ever take you for granted?”

Isabel
smiled. “Let’s just say I kept him on his toes.”

As an
ominous new thought flared up in Sammi Jo’s mind, her face darkened, and her
eyes shone brighter.

“My
walking the streets at night feels less safe,” she said. “Nita Redfern told me
she had a second deadbolt installed on her doors. She’s getting a dog, either a
Dobie or Rottie. Not long ago, the townies left their doors unlocked overnight.
Fear rules the way we have to live now.”

“I think
so, too, but don’t follow Megan’s example and leave Quiet Anchorage,” said
Isabel. “Things have to cycle back to better if you can hang in there for a while.”

“Megan
had her reasons to move, and I respect her decision,” said Sammi Jo. “But I’m wired
a little differently than she is because I’m a townie, born, bred, and
buttered. So, I’ll stick around and deal with the bad stuff as it comes along
until the good times return.”

“Losing
a father like you did pales in comparison to Megan’s loss of her fiancé, but I believe
the grief from both tragedies hurts the same way.”

“You
handle your grief over Max and Cecil passing away better than Megan and I did
with our losses.”

“It was
a double whammy for me. I found the right grit to get on with things like
everybody does. I mean what else can a soul do?”

“Crack
up from the grief is the only thing I can guess,” said Sammi Jo. “You’re right.
That is no way to live your life.”

“Exactly
so,” said Isabel.