Marja McGraw - Bogey Man 01 - Bogey Nights (14 page)

“I like that idea,” Chris said
. “I like it a lot. We’ll have a spotlight shining on it. We’ll have to think about a logo though.”

I glanced at my watch
. “We’d better get moving, Chris. We’ve got places to go and things to do.”

“Okay, cupcake
. We’ve done enough eyeballin’ for one day. Big D seems to have things well in hand. Everything is jake around here.”

Davey sighed
. “You bet it’s good. Driscoll Construction does excellent work, as you well know.”

“Okay, okay
. I know you do.” Chris held his hands up as though giving up and giving in. His friend had reminded him not to take the work for granted.

The crew had returned from lunch so we stopped and
spoke to them for a moment, and finally made our getaway. Mildred’s retirement village was only about half an hour from the restaurant, if traffic was good. If it wasn’t, we’d be late.

I couldn’t wait to grill the old lady, to put it in Chris’s words
. In my own words, I couldn’t wait to meet Mildred and talk to her about the good ol’ days. And hopefully come up with something helpful in the process – like the name of a potential killer.

Chapter
Sixteen

T
raffic was light and we arrived a few minutes early. The buildings were made up of very small apartments. John had told us that they were all one bedroom with a bathroom, a small living room and very tiny kitchen. There was a recreation room where everyone got together for dinner in the evening, or played bingo or cards when they felt like it. If they didn’t feel like joining the group, then someone would deliver their evening meal to their room. A few of the tenants still cooked their own dinner, but not many. It sounded like a good arrangement to me. It was a step away from an assisted living facility and allowed the tenants to retain their privacy and remain independent, to a point.

We looked for Building 4, and finding it
, we parked in front. Apartment 2, Mildred’s home, was located to the right, with apartments 3 and 4 in the rear. It was a square made up of four units.

I knocked on the door, wondering what to expect, thinking I’d find a little old lady with permed white hair and glasses perched on the end of her nose
. I had an elderly friend named Dolly who fit that description. Maybe I was thinking of seniors in generic terms. I figured I’d find a woman whose eyes were filled with confusion. I was prepared to explain who we were and why were there.

The door opened wide and we were greeted by a tall, slender woman of indeterminate age
, maybe in her late seventies. Her hair was dyed a dark blonde and done up in a ponytail with tendrils on her neck and at the sides of her face. She was wearing tight capri-length white pants with a long-sleeved, loose flowered blouse, and dangly gold earrings hung from her long earlobes. She wore make-up, flawlessly applied, except maybe she had on a bit too much blush. And she was barefooted.

“Close your mouth, Pamela,” Chris whispered.

I did.

“Mildred Murphy?” I asked
. I figured we must have the wrong apartment.

“Yes, dear
. You must be the people my nephew told me about.” She stepped back and swung her arm toward the living room, inviting us in. “Please, come in. John will be a few minutes late.”

John had made her sound like a frail old
woman, but that wasn’t what I was seeing. She didn’t sound the least bit senile, although she did have the voice of an aging woman. Maybe we’d caught her on a good day. I looked closer as I walked past her. Her face wasn’t too awfully wrinkled, but her neck and hands gave her away. She was older than my first impression had led me to believe.

“I’m Pamela Cross,” I said, “and this is my husband, Chris.”

“My, but you do look familiar,” Mildred said, openly staring at Chris.

“I have one of those faces.”
He gave her his Bogey grin.

“Ah, yes
. I can see it. You look like Humphrey Bogart, one of my favorite actors. I’ll bet you hear that a lot.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do
. May I call you Mildred?”

“No, sir, you may not
. You may call me Chance. I’ve always hated the name Mildred. It’s so old-fashioned, and not at all a becoming name. When people call me Mildred, it makes me feel like I belong on a farm. Or selling clothes to old women at a dress shop.”

“Well, Chance,” I said, “it’s a pleasure to meet you
. I do think Chance suits you better than Mildred.”

“Oh, my dear, we’re going to get along just famously
. I can tell that already.” She never took her eyes off Chris while she spoke to me.

It was true
. The name Mildred didn’t fit her appearance. Chance was the perfect name for her with what appeared to be a flamboyant personality and her demeanor.

She turned to Chris
. “I simply can’t take my eyes off of you, uh, Chris was it? You are the spitting image of someone I’ve admired for many years.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Now, I understand you and your wife want to discuss the old boarding house with me. Is that correct? Well, have I got stories I can tell you! Those were some pretty wild years – oh my, yes.”

I wanted to get right down to business
. Something about the way she was staring at Chris annoyed me. “We’re particularly interested in who your tenants were. Your nephew said he thought you still had your old ledgers with the tenants’ names in them?”

She
turned a sly grin in my direction. “I might. What’s it worth to you?”

My mouth opened but no words came out for a moment
. “I beg your pardon?” What could she expect from us?

“Just joking, darling, but I am curious about why you want the names
. My old boarders shouldn’t have anything to do with your new restaurant, right? So why on earth would you want their names?”

The door opened and John walked in, giving his aunt a peck on the cheek before joining us
. “I heard that last question, Auntie. I guess I should have told you what’s going on when I was here yesterday, but I wasn’t sure how you’d handle it.”

John wasn’t what I’d expected either
. Tall and slender, like his aunt, he looked like he’d just stepped off a page of a fashion magazine. He was an older man, maybe in his late fifties to early sixties, but definitely a classy looking guy with his silver hair and mustache. He had almost a James Bond appearance. Suave, as they say.

Chris stood up and introduced himself and shook John’s hand
. “We were asking your Aunt Chance about the names of her tenants before you arrived.”

John appeared amused
. “Aunt Chance? Yes, she does like to use that name from time to time.”

“So, dear, tell me what this is all about?”
Chance’s voice sounded softer and weaker as she spoke to John, and her face took on a less sure, more confused, expression. She seemed to sink into herself a little. “Why do these people need my boarders’ names?”

I wondered if she was putting on an act or if she actually changed gears that fast.

“First, how are you feeling today?” John asked. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

Chance’s voice grew stronger
. “I had a good night, and now I want to know what’s going on. Would someone please tell me before I have a stroke, right here in front of all of you?”

John laughed
. “Sounds to me like you did have a good night. They found a dead body in the basement of your old house,” he said bluntly.

Chance looked shocked
. “Oh. Well. Um, other people have owned that house since I did. Why would you seek me out about this?” She sounded defensive.

I took the reins at that point
. “It seems to be quite clear that the man was killed during the time you owned the house. We thought you could supply us with the names we need, and maybe remember if any of your tenants had problems with each other.”

“Are you the police?
You sure don’t look like policemen.” Chance leaned forward and studied us closely, eyes narrowed. I noticed that she still used mascara. I had to correct myself when I noticed that she was actually wearing false eyelashes. One of them was crooked.

“No,” Chris said, “we’re not the police
. The family of the man who was killed has asked us to look into this.”

“And who was killed?” Chance asked
, settling back in her chair. “I’d like to know just who was buried in my basement.”

“Charles Blakely was buried in your
cellar and we’re trying to find out why, which is the reason we’re here asking questions.” Chris sounded short on patience. I couldn’t understand why.

“Charles Blakely?”
Chance had a faraway look in her eyes and her voice softened. “I always wondered what happened to him. He owed me a month’s rent when he disappeared. I never could figure that one out. He seemed so dependable. And now you say he was murdered and buried in my basement?”

“That’s right,” John said
. “Now you know what this is all about. Are you okay? Do you need a glass of water or anything?” His voice was soft and caring, which surprised me since he’d been so blunt about the stiff in the cellar. He reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, patting it gently.

She seemed to shrivel
into herself, and she lowered her head.

“Give her a few minutes,” John said
. “She drifts off to sleep at the oddest times, especially if she’s upset. I had no idea she’d remember the murdered man. I should have known though, because not much used to get past her. It’s only lately…”

He was right
about her sleeping. I heard a faint intake of breath and then a loud snore.

I turned to John
. “May I ask how old your aunt is?”

Chance’s
head popped up. “It’s rude to ask about a woman’s age, my dear.”

I laughed
. “I’m sorry, but I thought you’d fallen asleep.”

She grinned
. “I’m 90 years old and proud of it!”

This time when my mouth dropped open no amount of prodding from Chris could close it
. “Ninety! I can’t believe it. You look so good! You must have been just a child when you ran the boarding house.”

She grinned
. “I was. I was only nineteen when my parents bought me that house. They had money, you know. Now the money is all mine, and someday it will go to John. Anyways, they wanted me to earn my own living. They were ahead of their time,” she said proudly. “Actually, they wanted me to find a job and live in the house, but I thought, ‘What the heck, I’ll use the house to make my way.’ I could cook and clean, and it was the war years. Things were tough and people needed me and my home.”

“So you turned it into a boarding house,” Chris said
, sounding more patient than he had a moment ago. “How many tenants did you have at a time?”

“Three
– sometimes four. There used to be a garage on the lot that I turned into living quarters. It burned down when one of the boarders fell asleep. He’d been smoking in bed. He got out before the garage burned down though.”

“How did your tenants get along with each other?” I asked
. “Were there ever any problems?”

“Oh, my, yes
. Charles and another gentleman, whose name escapes me at the moment, were always bickering. I don’t think it was bad enough to cause a murder though. And then I once had two women there at the same time. They were jealous women and argued all the time. I finally had to ask one of them to move on.” She laughed. “They both moved out and rented an apartment together.” She stopped talking and appeared thoughtful. I wondered if she was looking into the past.

“Ah!
I remember. The other boarder was Smokey Joe Turner.” She paused. “No, that was the one who burned down my garage, but it’ll come to me. The name of the one who argued with Charles, I mean.”

“Auntie, where would the box with your ledgers be?
We can find more names there, I would assume.” John stood up, apparently ready to find the box in question.

“It’s in that
storage shed I rented, up the street,” Chance replied, turning her face up to look at her nephew. “Why don’t you go fetch it while we visit?”

“
Give me the key and I’ll go right now.”

Chance pointed to a bowl on the small breakfast bar that divided the living room and kitchen
. “All of my keys are in that bowl. It should be marked.”

While they were discussing which key was for the storage unit, I turned to Chris and smiled
. “This is turning into an interesting afternoon. If you’d seen Chance on the street, would you have ever believed she’s ninety?”

“No
. She’s held up extremely well. She must have had something done to her face though. Don’t ya think?”

“Hard to say
. Some women have good skin and look good no matter how old they are. I mean, she is wrinkled, but not as much as one would expect. And can you believe she’s still dying her hair at her age? I can’t blame her though. Why go down without a fight? She’s definitely a walking advertisement for taking care of yourself.”

“I do wish she’d quit staring at me though,” Chris whispered
. “It’s disconcerting.”

That explained why he’d sounded impatient with her
. He was uncomfortable.

Chance turned back to us and John walked out the door
. “He shouldn’t be gone for too long. The storage place is only a couple of blocks away, and I told him exactly what to look for. When I moved in here I put all of my belongings, except for what you see, in storage. I just didn’t have the heart to get rid of everything.

“Now, let me ponder this some
. I can see the boarders’ faces in my mind, but I’m having some trouble with the names. I know the women were Esther and Adele, but of course I can’t remember their last names.”

“Don’t push yourself,” I said
. “Your nephew will be back with the ledgers before long and from what he told me earlier, the names should be in there.”