2 Address for Murder Read online

  “Hello, Bernadette.” Ruby Dean walked up Harriette’s sidewalk followed closely by Gertrude Stone and Millie Barnes.

  “The gang’s all here.” I smiled as each one of them filed up the steps and took their usual perch on Harriette’s porch.

  Ruby liked to sit in the rocking chair opposite Harriette’s rocking chair. The backs of both chairs faced Mac’s home. The wooden swing opposite the porch and facing Mac’s house was where Gertrude and Millie liked to sit, while I took a hinny lean on the half-brick wall of the porch.

  “Anything new?” Ruby asked as if I should know something.

  “Should there be?” I gave her the side-eye.

  “I was wondering when y’all were coming over here.” Harriette brought out an entire pot of coffee sitting on a tray with teetering coffee cups. “Did you ask?”

  “Ask me what?” I knew Harriette was asking about me.

  “About the invitations.” Harriette reminded me of the bridal shower invitation.

  “We just got here, Harriette,” Gertrude said between her gritted teeth. Then she turned to me, planting a big smile on her face. “Bernie needs a rest. She’s been walking all morning.”

  “Did you use the foot massage lotion I gave you for Christmas?” Millie asked.

  “I haven’t gotten a chance to do that yet, but I plan on taking a couple days off after spring really arrives.” My brows rose. “That’s when I’m going to be doing a full day for me. Including the foot cream you gave me and the masks Ruby gave me, along with the hand scrub Gertrude gave me.”

  “After you’re all prettied up, you can take Mac to supper on the gift card that I gave you.” Harriette wasn’t one to be left out.

  “Mac?” I asked. I’d not mentioned Mac to anyone but Iris. Maybe my family had seen how Mac had acted right before Christmas, but we’d not been around them altogether for a while.

  Sure, he would do what I called conveniently stopping by the farmhouse on Sunday family supper night, but I never recalled him actually acting as if he were interested in me. Besides, my parents were older, and they never caught on to things like that. Plus, Grady and Julia still acted as if the world revolved around them, so I knew they didn’t see anything… if there was anything. For all I knew, this little supper Mac had asked me out to tonight was no different from the friends thing we’d been doing for the past ten years.

  “Bernadette.” Harriette waved her hand in front of me. “I don’t know where you just drifted off to, but your coffee is going to get cold.”

  “Don’t rush her.” Ruby’s gaze darted to Harriette. “She’s got plenty of time to sit here. Bernie, you can just hand us our mail. That way, you don’t have to walk all the way down there.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked even though it would be nice to just hand them their mail while they were here. “I still have to go to Mr. Macum’s.”

  “Lee.” Gertrude groaned when she called Mr. Macum by his name, then she followed up with a tsk. “That man. He got another notice from the city to clean up his property, and he doesn’t care one iota.”

  “Carla Ramey cares an iota. A big iota.”

  “I nearly forgot.” Their mention of Carla Ramey made me think of the biscuits my mom had sent with me to give to the gals. I reached down into my bag and pulled out the box, handing it to Gertrude. “Mom says to tell you ladies hello.”

  “Your mama. She’s a good one.” Ruby did the gimmie hand when I passed the box to Gertrude. “You’re just like her.”

  “Now what about the invitation?” Harriette brought the discussion back to the mail.

  “Who got invited and who didn’t?” Gertrude was on the edge of the swing with her feet firmly planted on the porch. Her eyes snapped. She crossed her arms, impatiently waiting for me to answer.

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t really look that closely at anyone’s mail, but I do generally take notice if several people on my route are getting the same envelope.” Not all of that was entirely true. I did have a slightly nosy side, but it was completely against the code of ethics according to the United States Postal Service.

  In this case, I’d yet to see any sort of invitation, so that wasn’t a lie.

  “Here is Harriette’s mail.” I pulled out her new Reader’s Digest, Hollywood Reporter, and the local coupon magazine along with a few more pieces of junk mail.

  While she thumbed through that, I took all the other front porch ladies’ mail out one by one and distributed it to them. Each of them hurried to look for this prize invitation to the bridal shower.

  “I really can’t believe Zeke is hosting this.” He was about the front porch ladies’ age and a town council member who was a long-time widower. He was in a lot of clubs, including the bridge club all these ladies were in. I only knew this because I delivered his mail.

  His neighborhood was on my third loop, and it was about the right time for him to be home and want to talk. Though he didn’t feel like he was a gossip, he was the biggest one. He was just like these women.

  “You know how close he is with Robby,” Ruby said, mentioning the grandson. “The bride isn’t from here, so Zeke is hosting a party at the country club.”

  “So it’ll be all swanky.” Millie’s shoulders lifted toward her ears, and a delighted look came to her face.

  “When I get mine, I’m going right on down to Barb’s Beauty and getting me a fresh perm,” said Ruby. “I don’t care, even if it is before my annual spring appointment.”

  “What makes you so sure you’re going to get an invitation over me?” Gertrude had taken offense. “I’m the one who helped Zeke with all the new decks of cards for the bridge club by using my Amazon Prime account.”

  “What about me?” Millie inhaled a sharp breath. “When Zeke was sick, I let everyone come to my house for bridge club. Not to mention I made him some of my delicious corn chowder.” She crossed her tiny arms across her body. “It was my own mother’s secret recipe too. Not some store-bought stuff in a can.”

  The ladies continued to argue. They were like the kids from the Willy Wonka movie, squabbling over who was going to get the golden ticket. I had a niggling suspicion they were all vying for more than an invitation to a bridal shower.

  “Yoo-hoo!” a voice called out from the passing car along with a little beep.

  All of us looked up and saw Carla Ramey beeping and waving like a wild woman, not bothering to slow down.

  “Oh geez.” Harriette’s nose curled. “It’s gonna be a bad day on Little Creek Road now.”

  “Yeah, I was hoping she’d stay on her side of downtown.” Gertrude’s head turned as she watched Carla’s car drive past.

  I didn’t have to ask to know what they meant by her side of downtown. Carla lived in the neighborhood right behind the courthouse on the other side of Main Street. Her house was included in my third and final loop, which ended my day.

  “Are you kidding? She’s all gone crazy over this Kentucky Colorful…or whatever it is.” Ruby waved her hand around and rolled her eyes. “She’s been coming over here every day to beat on Lee’s door about cleaning up his yard.”

  “She’s been personally taking the tickets the city is issuing him to his house. When he doesn’t answer, she bangs more and yells through the door about the fine.” Harriette tsked. “You know”—Ruby leaned forward a little in the rocking chair and nodded her chin slightly in Millie’s direction—“some of us are hard of hearing and she even heard it.”

  “What did you say?” Millie’s brows furrowed, and I could see her eyes were focused on Ruby’s lips.

  “They were just saying how Lee is a hoarder.” I didn’t want to cause any rift between the friends. They already bickered back and forth so much. I pushed myself up to stand and took one more drink before I hoisted my bag back up on my shoulder. “I’ve got to get going.”

  “Bernie, now you keep an eye out for those invitations.” Harriette acted as if I were her personal gossip line.

  “I’ll keep an eye out.” I
winked. “You ladies have a nice day. It just might warm up to the fifties.”

  They all mumbled their goodbyes and then started discussing the bridal shower. Once I was back on the sidewalk and heading toward Mr. Macum’s home, Carla’s banging was echoing throughout the neighborhood.

  I turned to look over my shoulder at the front porch ladies. All of them were standing up, looking down the street at the noise.

  “We told you she’s lost her mind!” Gertrude Stone lifted her mug in the air and yelled my way.

  Without saying a word, I continued down the sidewalk, but by the time I made it past all the front porch ladies’ houses, Carla had jumped in her car and made a U-turn at the end of the street, nearly missing hitting the car coming down the street.

  The big Buick was Walter Ward’s, and he pulled up to the curb in front of the house he was selling for Mac, which was right next to Mr. Macum’s house.

  Carla saw me, swerved the car across the street, and threw the vehicle in park. I quickly stopped when I noticed she was gesturing for me to hold on.

  “You better watch where you’re going!” Walter shouted to Carla when she got out of her car and ran over to me on the sidewalk. “You’re gonna kill someone!”

  “You’re dang straight!” she yelled back, pumping her fist in the air. “I’m gonna kill Lee Macum!”

  Walter shook his head and went on in the front gate of the house, carrying two plastic jugs of something I couldn’t make out from where I was standing.

  “I’m so glad I caught you.” Carla had a bag in her grip. “I know you’ll be working the day the judges are visiting Sugar Creek Gap for the big contest. They might see you, and they might not.” She stuck the bag out for me to take. “I’ve gone to the liberty to get you some battery-operated twinkle lights along with some extra batteries and a couple of pots and hangers with a few plants in my trunk.”

  “Huh?” I looked at her.

  “What do you mean ‘huh’?” she said mockingly and snapped her beady eyes at me. “You’re going to get the pull mail cart that day and decorate your cart. It’s all for the greater good of our town, Bernadette Butler.” She scolded me, “You of all citizens should know that. You see every house on your route and how gorgeous… well.” She hesitated and slid her glare at Mr. Macum’s house. “Ninety-nine point nine percent of all houses have taken pride in Sugar Creek Gap, and you are no exception. I know you live in the country and this is the city, but you are as much of a fixture in town as the Wallflower Diner.”

  Carla was really selling the importance of my job to me. Boy, did I know. I didn’t need her to tell me. I needed her to move so I could get on with delivering the mail. Then I decided to just agree, take the bag, and get on with my day.

  “No problem.” I took the bag and forced a grin. “I’ll be more than happy to do my little part for Sugar Creek Gap.”

  “Now”—she stuck her hand on her hips—“why can’t everyone be so agreeable?” She let out a long sigh. She didn’t have to name who she was talking about. Apparently, everyone in town already knew. “The day of the judging, I’ll just drop these off with Matilda, and she can have them waiting for you when you get to the post office.”

  “I’m sure she’s going to love seeing you so early.” I took a couple of steps forward before she stopped me again.

  “And if you get to see Lee today when you deliver his mail, tell him that I’m not going to let him ruin my chances of winning…. Ahem.” She cleared her throat. “Our chances of winning.”

  “Will do.” I certainly would not. She didn’t need to know that.

  My response must’ve been good enough for her because she hurried back to her car but not without getting one last look at Lee Macum’s house, which, I had to admit, had gotten much worse over the winter months.

  It was as if he’d taken in the things that he really loved and when the snow started to melt, he put them back out on the porch.

  I couldn’t help but feel somewhat bad for him. The only family he had around here was Lucas, and he’d retired from the garbage company.

  I remember when he did work. He got off about the time I was finishing up the other neighborhood and walking back towards town. His old beat-up truck was piled high with junk that he’d collected that day on his garbage route. He called those objects his treasures. It didn’t bother me any, I was glad just to know those things made him happy.

  I wasn’t so concerned about his house or even his junked-up yard as much as what I’d seen and heard at the nursing home this morning. Lucas had to be talking about Mr. Macum and how he’d been getting forgetful. That just broke my heart.

  “Hello again, Bernie,” Walter called from the outside of the house next to Mr. Macum. “I can’t believe there are rats here.” He pumped one of the jugs’ levers and then picked up a sprayer that was attached to the jug. “I’ve got to spray for rats. I bet they’re coming from over there. I swear.” Walter shook his head, a look of disgust crossing his face. “If Carla doesn’t kill him before I do….”

  I gave a half smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Macum pull the curtain back from one of the side windows and peek out at us.

  “He’s messing with my income. I’m the realtor, and I need to sell this house.” He pointed the sprayer directly at me. “You, young lady, as Mac’s best friend, should tell Mr. Macum that. Maybe he will listen to you.”

  “I’ll leave all that up to you and Mac.” I waved my hand in front of my face when a whiff of the rat killer wafted my way. I wanted to warn him that if he pointed that thing at me one more time, he was going to draw back a nub, but I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut because I needed my job. If I didn’t have my job, I couldn’t pay my bills, and then I’d have to let Walter sell my house. He’d get the last laugh…what a shame.

  Buster was already barking from inside Mr. Macum’s house when I got to the gate. I wasn’t sure, but I thought Mr. Macum had tightened the bolts on his gate because it always took me two hands to lift the darn latch with a little force behind it. Once I finally got it open, the sound of the latch on the gate to let me in really set Buster on a barking rampage.

  I was busy trying to get out the stamp I’d gotten from my dad and the biscuits Mom had sent that I didn’t even hear Mr. Macum open the door.

  Buster darted, bouncing toward me with his tail wagging.

  “Hey, Buster.” The big burly chocolate Labrador Retriever always put a smile on my face. “You know I didn’t forget you.” I winced from the force of his tail beating up against my thigh.

  I put my hand in my coat pocket, took out one of the many dog biscuits I kept inside, and gently handed it to him. I came into contact with many furry animals during the day, and they loved me, since I had this little trick of treats.

  “Good morning, Mr. Macum.” I walked up the sidewalk.

  “Lee, Bernie. How many times do I have to tell you, of all people, to call me Lee?” His voice cracked. I could see the darkened circles under his eyes that were a bit sunken, and his jowls were a little saggier than usual. He was definitely getting older, but he clearly remembered me.

  “You tell my mom that.” My mom always taught me to be respectful of my elders, and even though I was fifty, Lee was still an elder. “Speaking of my mom, she sent some homemade biscuits.”

  I handed him the Styrofoam container. Buster couldn’t stop himself from trying to get his own smell of them.

  “And my dad told me to give you this.” I handed him the stamp.

  He lit up like the sun when he looked at it. Lee collected stamps. Most of them had no value, but like Dad, if I noticed a really pretty stamp on a package, I’d ask the recipient—if they were home—if I could have the stamp for Mr. Macum. That led to me collecting many stamps along the way because some of my clients already had filled little baggies with Mr. Macum’s name written in Sharpie on them and left them in their mailboxes or on their porches.

  “You come from good stock, Bernie.” Mr. Macum looked at me, and I
thought he was holding back a smile. “You know, these people are driving me nuts. Driving me nuts!” he emphasized and yelled towards Walter Ward. “They need to leave me alone and mind their own business!”

  I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on him and not look over at Walter. You know how you can feel someone staring at you? Well, that was how it was with Walter in that exact moment. I could not only feel him looking at Mr. Macum and me, but I could hear the sound of the sprayer squirting at record speed.

  Looking into Mr. Macum’s dark eyes, I tried to determine whether he might be open to me mentioning a little something about cleaning up his yard. His cut his eyes at me, and I made the decision not to bring it up. It was as though he knew I was thinking of it.

  “Awe, geez.” Lee groaned when a truck load of Logsdon Landscapers got out and started to grab all the tools out of the truck bed, including the flowers. “Anyway, tell your parents thank you for thinking of me. It’s not often people do kind things for others.”

  “I’ll tell them.” I handed him the rest of his mail and turned to leave.

  “Say,” he called. When I turned back around, he was thumbing through his mail. “Did you give me all my mail?”

  “I did.” I was pretty confident.

  “I didn’t get something I was expecting. You know that email digest thing I get from you where you take a photo of my mail and send it?” He referred to the daily digest the USPS had as an option for subscribers.

  “I’m sorry, Lee.” I needed to correct him. “I don’t take the photos. That’s the much higher ups than me. I just deliver it.”

  “Do you think you could check your bag again?” His brows furrowed, a tone of surprise in his voice.

  I sucked in a deep breath and planted a smile upon my face as I took the two steps back up on his porch.

  “Sure.” I tugged the mail carrier bag off my shoulder and dropped it between my feet.

  “Thank you,” he said to the top of my head, opening his door a little more. “I’m looking for a very important document from a very serious philatelist.”