Chapter Seventeen
The apparition hovering behind me was almost six feet tall and probably didn't weigh more than a hundred pounds. Although she was certainly very old, her skin was porcelain smooth, and so translucent that you could see the spidery veins snaking through her body.
Everything about her was white and gray: white chiffon dress, gray shoes, white and gray purse, and milky gray eyes. Thin, gray corkscrews of hair stuck out from her head in every possible direction. It looked like she had stuck her finger in an electrical socket.
I almost screamed but caught myself just in time. I realized that the ghostly woman was someone I knew. It had been awhile since I'd seen her, but it's pretty hard to forget Warren's Grandma Turner.
"I know who you are," she whispered, "you're the one that put my precious Warren in the trash."
"No, Miz Turner. I'm the one that got him out," I said, as patiently as I could manage. Gramma Turner is, well, a bit dotty.
She stood inches from me, her face bent down close to mine, and studied me. "You shouldn't be listening to people's conversations. It isn't nice. I'm a good mind to tell your mother." She stood up as straight as she could manage and shook her bony finger in my face.
I mumbled something about getting a drink of water and tore off down the hallway as fast as I could.
The somber looking man guarding the reception table called out to me as I streaked past him. "Miss, are you in need of assistance?" I ignored him.
I pushed on the glass doors and shoved my way through them. Several people who were standing around talking about the up-coming high school football season turned around to glare at me. I darted past them and trotted across the parking lot, toward my car.
"Whoa, there, Marty!" Tim said, grabbing my shoulders with both hands to keep me from smacking into him.
I had been looking down, mumbling to myself, and hadn't seen him standing beside my car, talking to Charli and her husband, John.
Charli, looking like she'd stepped straight out of a beauty parlor and wearing a navy silk dress, shook her head. "Gee, Marty, you look like you've seen a ghost," she said.
"I just ran into Grandma Turner."
She and John looked at each other. All three of them burst out laughing.
"Don't worry, Squirt. I saw her too," John said. He looks just like that one actor, you know the really good looking one on that hospital show, only with blonde hair. "She came up behind me and whispered some garbage in my ear. I never did figure out what she was saying."
"She accused me of putting Wart in the trash. And said she was going to tell Mom on me."
They all laughed again. I relaxed and laughed, too.
The friend of Mom's that Tim and I had seen at the Library on Tuesday walked by. She tsk-tsked at us and shook her head in disapproval.
I stopped laughing and groaned. "I'll bet she goes straight home and calls Mom!"
Charli bobbed her head up and down in agreement. "That's all I need, to hear a lecture on funeral home behavior," she said.
We stopped talking until the woman had reached her car. After she pulled out of the parking lot, we talked about Mom and Dad's anniversary party, the celebrity softball game I was supposed to play in on Saturday to raise money for the Special Olympics, and, finally, Wart's murder.
"So, Tim, anything new on the murder investigation?" I asked.
He scrunched his shoulders up. "Not really, nothing more than I told you yesterday."
"Y'all still haven't found Wart's truck?" I asked.
Tim shook his head. Something moved in the trees behind us. It was just getting dark, and I couldn't see what it was. Probably a deer or a rabbit.
John snickered. "That's pretty wild. You'd think it wouldn't be that hard to find a bright red truck with silhouettes of naked women painted on the doors."
Tim rolled his eyes. "You'd think. Hey, that reminds me, did y'all hear about the reward?"
"Reward? What reward?" Charli asked.
"Warren's folks put up a five thousand dollar reward for any information that leads to the arrest and conviction of his murderer."
John blew out a low whistle. There was more rustling coming from the trees. I squinted and looked around again, but still couldn't see anything.
"Wow! Five thousand dollars," Charli tried, but couldn't quite manage, to contain her excitement. "That's awesome!"
I know Charli like a cow knows an electric fence. It was obvious to me that she was adding the five thousand dollars to the book sales she'd conjured up in her imagination.
John chuckled. He's lived through enough of Charli's hare-brained schemes to be able to read her mind, too.
Tim gave me a quick hug. "Sorry, guys, but I gotta run. I'm covering a half-shift for a guy and I need to change into my uniform."
He hopped into his Escape and backed out of his parking place. The window buzzed down and he stuck his head out. "Hey, Marty. Want to catch a movie or something tomorrow night?"
"Can't," I said. My face instantly got hot. I didn't want to get into another fight with him, so I hoped he didn't ask why I couldn't.
He didn't. "Okay, see you later." He waved, raised the window, and sped off through the parking lot.
"Where do you suppose that truck is?" Charli asked. "I'll bet it's been stripped for parts or shipped out of the country or something like that."
John chuckled. "I really doubt it. I imagine it's just hidden away somewhere. Probably someplace close by." He put his arm around Charli and gave her a little squeeze.
It sounded like someone, or something, stepped on a dead branch on the cemetery side of the thicket.
"What the heck is that noise?" I asked.
John shrugged. "Probably a dog. I'll go look if you want me to."
"No, it's okay. I'm just a little jumpy since I ran into Gramma Turner, I guess."
I swatted at a hungry mosquito. Two men came out of the funeral home and walked through the parking lot. One of them told a bawdy story and they both laughed loudly. I could still hear them laughing until the engine of their Blue Impala turned over.
Charli and John were talking about Grandma Turner again. It reminded me that I hadn't told them about the argument I'd heard.
"Hey, I forgot to tell you something," I interrupted. "I was going to the lounge to get a soda when I overheard Steve LeFever having an argument with someone. He said that 'He didn't care who knew, what were they going to do, have him arrested?' or something along those lines."
"Really?" Charli asked. Her face was neon with excitement. "Who was he arguing with?"
"I don't know. I was getting ready to go in and find out, but that's when Miz Turner scared the daylights out of me."
"Hmm," said Charli, "Steve thinks he might get arrested. Isn't that interesting? I'll just bet Warren found out Steve was doing something illegal and Steve killed him!" Her voice went up an octave.
John laughed, "Charli, doll, I think you've been reading way too many detective novels."
I laughed, too. The night before, Charli had been convinced that Beth was the guilty party. I'd called her as soon as I'd gotten home to ask about Vanessa and had told her all the things I'd found out from Tim.
"Wait," she'd interrupted me when I had told her the story about Beth's saying that 'Warren wouldn't be caught dead in a Thompson's shirt'.
"I don't understand. If they were separated, and Warren wasn't living with her, how would Beth have known what Warren was wearing Monday morning?" she asked.
"I wondered about that too. So I asked Tim about it later. It seems as though Wart went over to the trailer Sunday night to talk to Beth about reconciling. I guess it must have gone pretty well, because Beth told Detective Luray that they ended up getting romantic and Wart stayed the night."
"I'm sorry, but I just don't buy it," she said.
"Why not? Why would Beth make up something like that?"
"I don't know. But, I just don't trust her. Never have. She's, oh, I don't k
now, she's just shifty or something. I mean, it's not anything she's ever said or done, it's just my intuition. And, as you know, I have great intuition."
I covered my mouth to keep her from hearing my chuckles. "You? Great intuition? Right."
"Well, I do! You're just jealous because you have lousy intuition."
"Do not."
"Do too! Why else would you always go out with such losers? Anyway, to get back to Beth, I think she's lying."
I was pretty teed off at Charli about the intuition comment, but decided to be big about it and let it slide.
"Why would she lie?" I asked. "If she tells the police stuff that isn't true, they might think she had something to do with the murder. And personally, I can't see Beth working up enough passion to kick a flat tire, much less kill somebody."
"She could have hired somebody to take him out."
"That's nuts! I mean where do you call if you want to hire a hit man in a place like Glenvar? “Hit MansRus? I don't think they're listed in the phone book. And, as soon as you mentioned the word murder, it would be all over town. Nobody in this city can keep a secret. Nobody!"
"We didn't know about the separation. Somebody managed to keep that secret. Anyway, who said she'd have hired somebody from Glenvar. There are plenty of criminals over in Roanoke. She could have looked there."
We'd argued for awhile before finally hanging up. Charli had managed to come up with a plausible answer for my every objection. It appeared that she was now tossing that theory out.
I watched in amusement as she argued with her husband about her reading habits. John was still laughing, but Charli's ears were turning red, a sure sign that she is getting to the boiling point. I couldn't help myself.
"You know, John," I broke in, "last night the great detective thought Beth was guilty, before that, she suspected Nancy Winslow. Tonight, it's Steve. If you aren't careful, you'll probably be next."
Charli practically spit on me, she was so mad. "Shut up, Marty! You too, John. Ya’ll just wait! I'll show you both. I'm going to find out who did this and I'm going to get that reward money. And then, I’m going to go on a cruise and y’all can’t come with me! Then we'll see who's laughing."
John tried real hard to stop, but it didn't work. He reached over and patted Charli on the butt. "Aww, come on, Babe. You wouldn’t have a bit of fun on a cruise without me. Besides, Char, this is real life, not a mystery novel. Things aren't all cut and dried in real life."
That just made Charli even madder. "Oh, yeah?" she shouted. "You wanna bet?"
John finally got his laughter under control. "No, doll, I don't want to bet. This isn't a game," he looked at her soberly, "and I don't want you getting in the middle of a police investigation. You might get hurt. Don’t forget, you’ve got a family. We’d be lost without you."
"Give me a break! I'm not going to get in the middle of anything. I'm just going to ask a few questions and work out a theory." She reached up and chucked him under the chin. "I can do this, I know I can."
John let out a long sigh. "Charli, Babe, geez, you're gonna make me crazy! Let's just go on home. We told the sitter we'd be home by nine."
"You aren't going to get off that easy, John Carsky! I'm not going to drop this. I'm going to figure out who did it, you can just bet on it!"
It was getting dark, the mosquitoes were making minced meat out of my legs and arms, John and Charli could go on with this stupid argument for hours, and I was in need of some food and a soda.
"Bye, y'all. See ya." I headed for my car.
"I'm leaving now. Going home." I slipped into the Mustang and pulled up next to them. Hands were waving and faces were turning red.
"I'll see you in the morning." I revved the engine.
They still didn't hear me.
In fact, just before I left them, they were shaking hands on a convoluted bet involving cooking, cleaning bathrooms, mowing grass, and changing dirty diapers.