House for Sale

 

The house was empty.

At least, no one was living there, now.

It was a pretty little house, with a welcoming swing and potted plants on the front porch; not the kind of house in which one would expect violence. However, the “for sale” sign that had adorned the front lawn, had been replaced with yellow Crime Scene tape, closing off the entire property.

Its former owner, Miss Lettie McAllister, had been brutally murdered. Blood was spattered on the kitchen wall and floor. No fingerprints had been found, and with all the rain the area had been having, muddy shoes had not only made a mess of the beautiful wood floors, but obliterated any footprints the intruder might have left.  The poor lady’s body was also not in evidence, presumably moved by the killer.

Sheriff Jed Henry found out about it when one of her church friends went by to check on her elderly friend. When no one answered the door or the phone, the lady called him. She also told him that Miss Lettie had once let on to her that she left a spare key under the welcome mat by the front door because she kept forgetting hers.

Sheriff Jed Henry was already aware of that. He had known Miss Lettie for years and had admonished her about the key under the mat. It was an open invitation to theft, or worse. And worse, it was. He was also aware of the rumor that Miss Lettie might have hidden money in her house. The consensus was that whoever broke into her house, was looking for a hidden stash, and she’d surprised him. Before leaving the scene, he had probably wrapped her in the (now) missing rug from the front hall, and disposed of her somewhere. There was no body and no suspect. The townspeople were horrified and scared. And angry!

Sweet Water was a small town, diminishing in population almost by the day. It desperately needed help. Several businesses had closed and the young people were getting jobs in the cities. A murder was the last thing it needed. Understanding the situation, after thoroughly going over every inch of the house for evidence, the sheriff okayed the removal of the yellow tape.

The little house was back on the market.

Some of the people who came to look at the house, only wanted to see where the murder had occurred. There were others who were tired of big city life, who had seen the picture of the house, and loved it, but, a murder? A few others seemed to feel that the murder was not an insurmountable problem. The murderer would be caught, surely, before they could move.

However, the murderer had not been caught. Whoever had killed Miss Lettie, had probably worn surgical gloves, and even shoe covers to keep from leaving prints. The sheriff had asked that anyone who had seen any activity at her house to call. So far, he had no leads.

Now that the house was finally able to be shown again, Mother Nature had stepped in, deciding it was her turn to throw a wrench into the works. A loud, angry Blue Jay flew back and forth across the front porch, dive bombing anyone who set foot on it. There didn’t seem to be a nest anywhere around, but word spread about the bird, and buyers’ interest ceased, temporarily. It was a mystery that needed solving, quickly.

Maisie Hassel, realtor for the house, was in her office, talking to her friend and employee, Ruth Maverick. Maisie was complaining about the Blue Jay. “We can’t shoot the darn thing; I mean, I guess we could, but people would have a fit. That stupid bird is keeping me from showing the house! But I’m going to take care of the problem, today, one way or another! Wish me luck.”

Getting out of her car, Maisie opened her umbrella, her protection/weapon of choice. Resting it on her shoulder, hoping it would protect her head from the Jay, she quickly unlocked the front door of the little house, and hurried inside. Immediately, she heard the noisy sound of chirping coming from the fireplace. There was a nest with three baby birds, that must have fallen down the chimney. Miraculously they had survived. “No wonder your mother was having such a fit,” Maisie said to them. “Poor babies.” Taking a couple of tissues from her purse, she gently picked up the nest and took it out and set it on the porch swing before the mother bird could attack her. Not the best place, but at least now, she could do a final run through of the house.

Back inside, Maisie texted Ruth. Come to house. Bring rubber gloves (cabinet under sink), plastic bowl, your candy in, (I’ll buy you another), nails and hammer. ASAP.  

Ruth arrived in record time, and watched, by her car, as Maisie went to work. Putting on the rubber gloves, and with her jacket covering her head and neck (the open umbrella was too big; got in the way), Maisie hammered the bowl in between two branches in the crepe myrtle in the front yard. Mama bird was hovering over the nest. Then, she retrieved the nest from the swing and put it in the bowl in the tree. Loud squawks and flapping of wings, overhead, from the Jay as the nest was placed. Then both women ran to the porch and watched mama bird re-unite with her babies.

Ruth laughed. “That was definitely not what I envisioned doing when I came to work this morning.”

Maisie laughed, too. “Doesn’t fit my job description either. Thanks for your help. Look at them. Isn’t it amazing? What a relief! Now, I have an idea. I’ve got a bunch of stuff to do while I’m out, today, but I think we need to celebrate our good deed. So, if you don’t have plans, later, why don’t I grab a pizza and some wine on my way back to the office? That sound like a plan?”

“Sure does.”

 “Great. See ya, later, and thanks again!”

Bird mission accomplished.

~ ~ ~

Darrell Smith parked his car in the garage, and entered his kitchen. “How’s my girl?” he asked his daughter, Jodie. She had asthma; her chest was tight and she was wheezing.

“Still breathing, Dad,” she said, trying to smile.

Kissing her forehead, he said, “Why don’t you stretch out on the sofa and watch a little TV? You can eat, there, on a TV tray, if you feel like it. Where’s your mother?”

Jodie pointed upstairs, went over and flopped down on the sofa. Closing her eyes, she sighed and said, “Well, that was brilliant. I forgot to turn on the TV.” Just then, a herd of elephants rumbled down the stairs, and her twin brothers raced into the den and turned on cartoons. “Boys,” Jodie tried to make her voice heard above the loud music from the Tom and Jerry cartoon.

Suddenly Dad appeared and snapped off the TV. He glared at the boys. “Did you not see your sister on the sofa, getting ready to watch TV?” Silence. “Did it not occur to you to ask her what she wanted to watch, instead of barging in and taking over? Well, both of you can just go to bed without supper. Go on, NOW!”

“Dad,” Jodie started to intercede, “They didn’t mean…”

“THIS MINUTE, OR I’LL GET MY BELT!”

Mikey and Mac raced out of the room.

Jodie’s mom walked in, her eyes red from crying. She looked straight ahead at no one in particular. “Supper will be ready in about twenty minutes.” She turned around and walked out.

“Dad,” Jodie said. “Please, don’t …”

Darrell put up his hand, followed his wife into the kitchen, and closed the door.

Jodie could hear her father yelling, “Alice, couldn’t you, for once, have supper ready when I come home from work? Huh? Answer me!” SLAP! “And stop that sniveling.” Jodie struggled up off the sofa, and was heading for the stairs when her father stormed out of the kitchen. “And what do you think you’re doing, Missy? Going up to pacify your thoughtless, no-good brothers?”

“Dad, I’m going up to put on my pajamas.”

“Well, tell your brothers to come down and set the table and help their mama get supper ready.”

“Yessir.” Jodie clumped slowly up the stairs. Darrell went in the den and turned on the news. Jodie heard some of it and stopped, listening.

“The killer of Miss Lettie McCallister, who was brutally murdered last week has still not been apprehended. Anyone having any…” Jodie shivered and resumed climbing.

Next morning, while Darrell was eating breakfast, his cell phone rang. The boys were again, thundering down the stairs, laughing and punching each other, so Darrell took the call outside. A voice said, “Mr. Smith?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“I saw you go in that poor woman’s house, and I saw you leave, pulling her in a blanket or somethin’ out to your car. And I followed you and I know where you put her!”

Darrell said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is this some kind of joke?”

“No, siree. No, sir. No joke. Definitely not a joke. So, unless you’d prefer that I turn you in, I suggest you have fifty thousand in cash, and bring …”

“Are you crazy? I can’t cash a check that size. They’ll want to know what it’s for, and … “

“I’m sure you’ll think of somethin’.”

“Wait a minute! Why have you waited this long to get in touch with me?”

“504 Picket Street, in the alley, at 7 PM, tonight!” Click.

Darrell stood there thinking. Where have I heard that voice before? Come on, brain! He walked around the yard, thinking of people and their voices. Suddenly, he stopped. Mort! Sheriff Jed Henry’s deputy! Man, he thought, who’da thunk. Of course, he can turn me in! Does that mean the sheriff knows, too, or just Mort? If the sheriff doesn’t know, how would Mort explain the bribe money when it came up? And it would! No. Of course, it wouldn’t. He’d see to that.

Maisie and Ruth were eating their pizza in Maisie’s car because Ruth had just heard of a house that the owner was thinking of selling and they wanted to drive by and check it out. It wasn’t in a bad neighborhood, exactly, but it wouldn’t do for a family with kids. Maisie always kept her mace in her purse, just in case.

When they came to the address, they stopped across the street and studied it. Maisie said, “No garage in the front. I think there’s an alley in back.” They drove around to the side street and sure enough, there it was. Maisie turned in so she could back out and… “Look!” she said, “There’s Deputy Mort.” She pulled into the alley, lowering her window. “Hi, Mort!” she called. As he turned to look, two shots were fired, and Mort fell. Maisie froze.

“Oh, my God!” Ruth said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Maisie was torn between checking to see if he was alive and being scared the shooter would get her, too. She said, “Ruth, sit on the horn and don’t stop.” Then she got out, running low, and knelt by Mort. She could see a chest wound. Surprising her, Mort whispered, “Darrell Smith killed … Miss McAll ... I saw… him and …he threw her …off the…do” … He was gone.

Maisie scurried back to her car. Ruth ducked down and Maisie took off. Hands shaking, and breathing fast, Maisie blurted what Mort said, then she added, “Oh! What if … maybe Mort threatened Darrell and that’s who shot him? And … maybe Mort demanded hush money!”

Ruth’s eyes were huge. “What if the sheriff was in on it, too? Split the money with Mort?”

“Oh. Lordie,” Maisie moaned, “then we can’t call him about Darrell. He’ll be after us! So, who do we trust to go after Darrell?”

“What about your policeman friend in Cold Springs?”

A thoughtful smile replaced her worried frown. “He wouldn’t have jurisdiction over here, I don’t think, but it can’t hurt to try.” She punched in his private number.

“Hi, Maiz, what’s up?”

She told him everything she knew including Mort’s unfinished sentence. He whistled. “Listen, if it was Darrell who shot Mort, he saw you; whoever it was, saw you. You aren’t safe, and Ruth isn’t, either. Tell you what, you two meet me outside the Ezy-Go by your office. Park close to the side. You might drive around for a while, first, so you’re not a sitting duck, and keep your eyes peeled. Give me thirty minutes. See ‘ya.” And he was gone.

Twenty-nine minutes later, (Maisie was timing him), Officer Jim Stratton pulled in next to Maisie’s car, hopped in the back and said, “Okay. Been thinking on the way over about Jed. I’ve known Sheriff Jed Henry for a good while, and I’ve always thought he was as honest as the day is long, but I wanted to check with a buddy who's worked with him on a fairly recent case before I suggested you call him. He vouched for him, so, we need to act fast. I know, I know, I held you up. He’s probably already been notified about Mort’s death by whoever found him, but on the off chance he hasn’t been, you call him, Maisie. Tell him what you told me, and that I’m here with you and would he come meet us.”

Maisie clicked off. “He’s coming, and he’s mad as the devil. Nobody called him about Mort, so maybe nobody knows.”

“Except us,” Ruth said. “And the killer.”

Jim said, “While you were on the phone, I was trying to figure out, ‘he threw her off the dah, and the only thing I can come up with is dock. And since there are a few fishin’ shacks not far from here, maybe one of them?”

Sheriff Henry arrived and joined Jim in the back seat. “Let’s get over to Picket Street and see if Mort’s body is still there. I’ve got to contact his family and also arrest Darrell. Maisie, I’ll need your sworn testimony of what Mort told you, and what you saw. You, too, Ruth, what you saw. I can’t believe Mort did such a stupid thing as threaten Darrell, if that’s what he did, and it looks like it, poor fool. Jim, would it be possible to borrow you for a while? Go with me to Darrell’s, cover front and back? Ladies, you did good, but listen up. This is dangerous. We don’t know what Darrell will do next. Go home and lock up. If Darrell’s not home, I’ll let you know and you two go to a motel and stay put! I’ll keep you posted.”

Ruth said, “Yeah. I’d sure feel better being out of it.”

“I just hope we are out of it,” Maisie said. “And they get Darrell! He’s killed two people, now, and two more won’t make his sentence any worse, I don’t think. You know, he must be pretty cold blooded to have killed Lettie McAllister. And why in the world would he want to steal her money in the first place? Poor lady.” She shuddered. “It must have been horrible.”

Maisie was just getting ready to start the car, when suddenly, Ruth’s door was yanked opened, and a gun was pointed at her head. “My trigger finger’s itchy, so don’t do anything to make me shoot you,” the hooded figure said. Tapping Ruth on the shoulder, he added, “Okay, slow and easy, get out of the car, both of you. Driver lady, if you try anything I’ll shoot your friend, here.”

Ruth was shaking so hard she could hardly unbuckle her seat belt, but with her face turned away from the gunman, she mouthed to Maisie, “Turn off sound,” then she got out of the car. Maisie got out but didn’t budge from her side of it. “Where are we going?” she asked. Could it be Darrell?

“Good question,” said the man. “You’re going to join Lettie and Mort.”

It was Darrell, all right.

 “But first, I’m going to get some ransom money for you two. You!” he poked Ruth with his gun, “give me your phone.” Ruth, looking terrified, handed over her cell phone. Darrell looked back in the dark parking lot and hollered, “Alice, get over here!”

Darrell’s wife slowly appeared out of the darkness. The right side of her face was purple. “Come here and bind this woman’s hands,” he ordered, keeping his gun on Ruth. “Now, ladies, who’s your next of kin?” Nodding at Ruth, he said, “I’ll start with you.”

Maisie was slowly getting out of the driver’s side, when Darrell caught movement and whirled around. “Stop right there or you’re dead!” Maisie stopped. She had her hand on the phone in her purse, ready to send Jim a text. Darrell ran around the front of the car and said, “Hand it over, and move over there, next to your friend.”

Darrell had his gun on Ruth and Maisie, who both saw Alice move slowly away and reach in her pocket. Darrell began to turn toward Alice when Maisie shot him in the face with mace. At the same time, Alice pulled the trigger on her pistol, missing Darrell, and hitting the can of mace in Maisie’s hand. Darrell hollers, dropping his gun and holding his eyes. Maisie, coughing, and trying to keep from fainting, leans down and grabs the gun with her left hand. Before she can point it at Darrell, Alice has walked closer. She looks at her husband. “Open your eyes” she said, and when he did, she shot him.

Maisie smiled at Alice, and fainted.

Alice tried to catch her with her left arm, and at least kept Maisie from hitting her head as she fell. Ruth was frantically wriggling out of the rope, her eyes watering, as she backed away from the mace fumes. She retrieved both phones from Darrell’s pocket, and punched in the sheriff’s number, as she knelt by Maisie.  She threw the can of mace away from them and pressed a tissue against Maisie’s hand as the sheriff answered.

When the sheriff and Jim arrived, minutes later, Maisie had come to, and was sitting in her car with her hand wrapped in Ruth’s half-slip. Maisie and Ruth started talking at the same time, both saying that Alice had shot Darrell in self- defense. After Maisie had given her statement, Jim took her to the emergency room.

Later.

Sheriff Jed Henry hired a diver to retrieve Miss Lettie, what was left of her, from the river. Then, searching closer to the dock at Joe’s Fishing Shack, Mort, who apparently had also been dumped by Darrell, was also retrieved.

Sheriff Henry called Jim Stratton and asked him if he’d like to work with him in Sweet Water. “Sheriff, that suits me just fine,” Jim said.

 Maisie Hassell said yes to Jim Stratton, which was no surprise to anybody. His best man, Zach, also from Cold Springs, took a liking to Maisie’s maid of honor, Ruth, and time will tell what happens there.

And the little house? Well, Maisie took it off the market for good, and she and Jim bought it. That Fall, remembering the bird nest episode in the fireplace, Jim looked up in the chimney to see if there were any more nests or other obstructions. There weren’t, but there was a loose brick. Out of curiosity, he pulled on it, and it immediately came out. He reached inside. There was a small metal, fire proof box. He and Maisie opened it, together.

Miss Lettie’s savings!

Epilogue:

Ruth, with a new lease on life and a man of interest, began writing a mystery novel, titled, Shot in the Mace, dedicated to Maisie Hassel Stratton.

Maisie, happy that Alice’s aim hadn’t been worse, suffered minor cuts on her hand from the can, only requiring disinfecting and a tetanus shot. Apparently, the bullet that went through the can of mace, went right between her fingers, leaving her ring finger available for Jim to adorn. Which he did, most admirably.