Murder is the Pits (27 page)

Ruthie put her arm around him. “You’ll stay
on our sofa until we get this straightened out.”

I could tell Penny Sue wanted to strangle
Ruthie, but like a true Southern lady, she smiled instead. “Of
course, you’re welcome to stay with us,” she murmured, all the
while giving Ruthie the evil eye. Ruthie returned the hard look and
gave Penny Sue a stealthy hand gesture, something I’d never seen
her do before. That’s when I first suspected that Millie had
followed us home!

The four of us trooped down the cluster
walkway and stopped abruptly a few feet beyond our condo. The rest
of the walkway was gone, ending in a steep five-foot drop to the
beach. Thank goodness, we didn’t step out on the deck—the side
closest to us was hanging in midair.

Penny Sue’s hand went to her chest. “Gawd,
it’s worse than I imagined.” She inspected our roof. “At least the
roof held—probably because it was replaced when we did the
windows.”

Debris—huge planks, poles, concrete
slabs—the remnants of decks and walkways from who knew where
covered our beautiful beach. “Larry won’t being fishing any time
soon,” I said, pointing down the now non-existent dune line. “All
the stairs to the beach washed away.”

“The turtle nests were lost, that’s for
sure,” Ruthie said ruefully.

Guthrie motioned to the other half of the
judge’s duplex where the blue tarp covering Charley roof damage
flapped. “Man, a shame they didn’t get a new roof when you did.
I’ll bet there’s water inside. Do you know the people who live
there?”

“Pat and Gary Wilson still own it, I assume.
Like Daddy, they hardly ever come down, rent it out instead. I
think they’re holding it for their kids.” She turned to me. “This
could be your chance. They may be willing to sell now.”

I gulped. “I might not be interested when I
see the mess.”

“They’re not making any more beachfront
property. The dunes will come back, they always do. Besides, it’s
worth a call,” Penny Sue said. “If you want a condo here, you can’t
dillydally.”

“You’re right. Do you have their phone
number?”

“I think it’s in the kitchen junk drawer,
and a local realtor has the key. We’ll call and offer to check on
their damage.”

Guthrie, still limping, hobbled home to nail
plastic over the broken window, tell Timothy where he’d be, and
gather his stuff. Meanwhile, Penny Sue called the Wilsons, who were
thrilled to hear from ‘little Penny Sue’ and grateful for her offer
to check on their place. Their realtor handled over a dozen rental
properties and wasn’t sure when she could get to it. The Wilsons
debated whether one of them should fly down from Wisconsin, but
were worried about the other storm that was on the way. Mr. Wilson
promised to call the realtor and have her bring Penny Sue a
key.

“As soon as we see the damage, you can
decide if you want to make an offer,” Penny Sue said. “Ruthie,
maybe you should check on Ivan. It’s worrying the Wilsons.”

She didn’t have to ask Ruthie twice. The
Weather Channel was on in a split second. As Ruthie waited for the
storm update, I pulled out a bottle of ammonia and a large trash
bag. “I’ll clean the icebox. It’s been off for five days; the food
is all spoiled.”

“Good idea, we want to get that icemaker
going ASAP. Publix had already sold out and said the first shipment
of ice went in less than an hour.” Penny Sue peered over my
shoulder as I opened the freezer. The ice cream and everything else
had melted, then refroze when the power came back on. The bottom of
the compartment was covered in a disgusting mishmash of drippings.
“That is nasty! Hand me the ice bins,” Penny Sue said, holding her
nose. “I’ll wash them in the sink.”

I unplugged the fridge as Penny Sue filled
the sink with warm water. “The goop in the bottom needs to thaw,” I
explained as I tossed containers in the trash bag.

“Good news,” Ruthie called. “It looks like
Ivan’s going to miss us. It’s supposed to brush the coast of South
America and head into the Gulf of Mexico. The Florida Panhandle
will probably be hit again.”

“That’s what they said about Charley,” Penny
Sue said sourly. She brushed her foot on the gritty tile. “If
you’re finished there, Ruthie, how about vacuuming?”

“Sure, no problem.” As Ruthie started for
the utility room, we heard a loud knock on the front door.

It was Anastasia Clements, the Wilsons’
realtor. Dressed in jeans, a tank top, and running shoes, Anastasia
didn’t look like your typical realtor. She plunked a digital camera
on the counter and started working a key off a large ring. “I was
across the street when the Wilsons called. I’m glad you’re going to
check on their place—that’s one less thing I have to worry about.”
She put the key and her card on the counter. “All of my clients are
calling, each one in a state of panic. I’m losing my—” Her cell
phone started to play the theme from
Rocky
. “See. Sorry, I
need to take this.”

She turned toward the hall. “Hello? … Pearl,
I’m up to my ears in alligators right now, and besides, you know I
can’t divulge that information. We’ve been through this before …
Yes, I know who your son is … I’m sorry, I have to go. I’m with a
client now. Goodbye.”

Anastasia let out a long sigh. “That lady
will be the death of me. As if I don’t have enough trouble, I have
that old biddy breathing down my neck.”

“That was Pearl Woodhead, wasn’t it?” Penny
Sue asked.

“Is she your friend?” Anastasia asked
tentatively.

Penny Sue grunted. “Hardly. One of the
rudest people I’ve ever met.”

“Rude and delusional,” Anastasia said.
“Pearl thinks she’s some sort of princess and this is her kingdom.
Claims she’s going to buy up this complex and wants a list of all
my clients.” The realtor snorted. “Mad as a hatter, if you ask me.
Pearl barely has a pot to pee in. I know for a fact her condo is
mortgaged to the hilt, and her son makes the payments for her.”

Penny Sue arched a brow. “Which condo is
hers?”

“A B-unit in the first cluster. Pearl and
her husband were among the initial residents. He passed away a long
time ago. I never knew him, but people say he was very nice. A
woodworker, if you can believe it. Woodhead, woodworker.” Anastasia
chuckled. “Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, huh?”

Penny Sue snickered. “Lord’s truth.”

Anastasia checked her watch. “If you have a
digital camera and a computer, would you take pictures of the
Wilsons’ place and email them? That’s what I’m doing. When you
speak to them, ask if they’d like me to arrange repairs.” She
picked up the camera. “Honestly, Charley repairs haven’t been
completed and now this. There’s a shortage of shingles, and roofers
are booked for months.” She scanned the room. “Did you get much
damage?”

“No,” Penny Sue replied. “We replaced the
roof and all the windows a few years ago. Our only problem is
erosion. Frances washed away the sand underneath the deck, and our
stairway’s gone.”

“Count yourself lucky. Call me when you’re
ready for me to pick up the key.”

“We will,” Penny Sue dried her hands and
walked Anastasia to the door. “Thanks. Don’t work too hard.”

“I wish.”

Penny Sue handed me a bowl and a spatula to
scoop out the slush on the bottom of the freezer. I filled the
bowl; she dumped it into the sink and doused it with hot water. By
the time the slush went down, I’d filled the bowl again. As we
continued our assault on the freezer, Ruthie vacuumed the master
bedroom.

“What does this remind you of?” I snickered,
handing her another bowl of grossness.

“Magnetized mud. And you’re tacky to bring
it up. My boobs still hurt from being dragged out of the tub.” She
shoved the bowl back at me.

“It was your idea to use two jars. We were
only following instructions.”

“Well, it wasn’t so funny on my side of the
tub rim.” Putrid steam rose from the slushy drippings as she
sprayed them with hot water. She leaned back, holding her nose.
“This is truly disgusting.”

“Only one or two more bowls before I’m ready
to wipe it down with ammonia.” I handed her another load. “Speaking
of disgusting, what do you make of that stuff about Pearl?”

“You mean Princess Pearl?” Penny Sue
cackled. “Princess of Darkness, Princess of Doom and Gloom. Hey, if
she’s a Princess, what does that make Woody? Is he a prince? Woody,
Prince of Doom and Gloom—that fits.”

“Do you think she’s the person buying up all
the real estate?”

“Of course not. We know the last three units
were sold to different groups. Besides, Anastasia said Pearl is
mortgaged to the hilt. And, Woody is a government employee. He
probably does pretty well, being a lawyer and everything, but I’m
sure he’s not getting rich.”

“He’s married; maybe his wife has money.
He’s a lawyer, so he’d know how to set up dummy corporations. In
fact, maybe that’s why Pearl’s place is mortgaged—they’re using the
equity for down payments on the condos they buy.” I handed her the
bowl. “This is the last of it.”

“Praise the Lord, I can’t tolerate much more
of this stinky steam.” She dumped the bowl and sprayed it down.
“Down payments are one thing, making the mortgage payments are
another.”

“Interest rates are at an all time low right
now, meaning payments are low, too. Besides, they’ll rent the units
to cover the payments.”

Penny Sue rinsed the bowl and filled it with
warm water and ammonia. “Here,” she handed me the bowl with a
sponge.

“Gee, thanks. Wouldn’t you like to take over
now?”

She waved flippantly. “You’re doing fine.
Besides, I need to call Daddy and tell him we’re all right. He may
know something about the Woodheads. Pearl apparently knew
Mama.”

My eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Why me,
Lord? Why did I always end up with the dirty work?”

Before I could protest, Penny Sue took the
portable phone into the guest bedroom to call her dad. A few
minutes later, Ruthie showed up with the small cooler from the
Mercedes. I’d forgotten all about the cooler we’d packed with ice
and soft drinks for the trip.

“I need a break,” Ruthie said, hopping on a
stool. She popped the top of a cola. “What’s your pleasure? Tea,
cola, water?”

“Green tea. I think my system’s polluted by
all of this ammonia.” I made a final swipe of the freezer wall,
closed the door, and plugged in the refrigerator. We still had the
lower compartment to clean, but this would get the icemaker
started.

I sat at the counter beside Ruthie. “Penny
Sue’s calling her father to see what he knows about Pearl
Woodhead.” I took a sip of tea. “You know, Pearl said she knew
Guthrie’s Aunt Harriet.” I took my cell phone from my pocket.
“Maybe I can get him to do a little detective work, too.”

After all the calls I’d received from
Guthrie, I only had to hit “send” to reach him. It took several
minutes, but he finally answered. “How are you doing?” I asked.

“Man, the place is worse than a disaster.
It’s, like, a catastrophe. You’re lucky I’m alive. I forgot the
power had been off and opened the refrigerator for a cola. Whoa, I
almost passed out. Gnarly. The worst smell of all time, like,
there’s no word to describe it.”

“Nasty?”

“Man, that’s it—nasty. Yeah, it was totally
nasty.”

“How’s your knee?”

“I’m getting tired, and it’s starting to
throb.”

“Don’t hurt your knee again by overdoing it.
We’ll come up tomorrow and help you clean out the fridge.”

“Wow, that’s really nice of you, Leigh,
because this thing is so disgusting I think we should, like, load
it up and take it to the dump. You know, the way Arlo did in
Alice’s Restaurant
.”

I chuckled. As Grammy would say, he was
eat up
with that movie. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong
with the icebox we can’t fix with ammonia.”

“Gee, you’re wonderful. Because, I think
I’d, like, throw-up if I had to clean it. I’m doubly, triply,
quadrupl—”

“Hey, no problem. Have you talked to your
aunt and uncle about the condo yet?” I asked.

“No.”

“Would you do a favor for me?”

“Anything, man, I owe you my life, my—”

“You don’t owe me anything. I do need a
favor. Remember the old lady, Pearl Woodhead, we met on the public
walk when everyone was checking out the Russian in the
dumpster?”

“Sure, she had an 1860 Colt 45 cap pistol.
That thing really looked real, didn’t it?”

“Right. Remember, she claimed to know your
Aunt Harriet, which means your folks might recall her. Do you mind
asking your uncle what he knows about Pearl?”

“You want me to play detective? That’s cool.
What are we looking for, commander?”

Gawd, now I’m his commander. I stared at the
phone, not sure info about Pearl was worth it. Still, I’d gone this
far. “We heard she thinks she’s some sort of princess and this
development is her kingdom.”

“That’s really twisted. I’d say Pearl’s Colt
is a cap shy of a full strip.”

I rolled my eyes at Ruthie and Penny Sue who
were listening to my end of the conversation. “It is twisted, but
she apparently believes it. We’re trying to figure out how she came
up with such a wild idea.”

“A-okay, commander, I’m on the case. Ten
four.” He hung up.

I smiled grimly. “I’m now Guthrie’s
commander. He’s going to call his folks.”

“Lord, I hope he doesn’t start saluting
you,” Penny Sue said.

Me too. Brownies were one thing,
salutes—over the line!

* * *

September 8-10, New Smyrna Beach, FL

Since I scraped
and scrubbed the
freezer, I insisted Penny Sue clean out the lower compartment. She
reluctantly agreed. Like always, Ruthie and I would end up doing
most of the work. Ruthie offered to wipe the compartment down with
ammonia after it was emptied, while I agreed to assist with
recyclables. Ruthie and I should have inspected the fridge before
making our magnanimous offers. Most of its contents were glass and
plastic, meaning Penny Sue’s task was merely to hand me the jars
and bottles to be dumped down the disposal and rinsed. Ruthie would
do the hard work, later, with the ammonia. Once again, Penny Sue
came out on top but it also gave her time to talk.