A Timely Vision

“There are some baskets on the porch. Could you bring those back with you too? They’re for the relay race tomorrow. Everyone has to crawl like a turtle. That should be funny, huh?”

Chapter 18

Mary Lou’s back door was unlocked. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. Tim shook his head when he saw me push it open. “You know, the chief and I tell people to lock their doors. We walk around town and find doors open like this all the time. How do people expect us to protect them when they don’t protect themselves?”

“I suppose most people aren’t worried about it. We only have one or two break-ins a month. I’d probably forget to lock the door all the time at home. Gramps remembers it religiously.”

“That’s what comes from living in a small town.” He shrugged as we walked into the house. “People expect crime to be low. Maybe Miss Elizabeth’s death will wake a few people up around here.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” I saw the baskets on the side of the porch. They were heaped up on top of each other near the inside door. “Could you get those while I go in and get Mary Lou’s checkbook?”

“Sure. I’m going to talk to her about this, Dae. We should really have a fine of some sort for leaving your house open. It’s an invitation to crime.”

“I’ll let you be the one to go on record with that at the next town council meeting. You don’t run for public office. I bet that whoever goes along with that idea won’t be reelected.”

I knew I wouldn’t vote for it. And not because people wouldn’t like another fine. It was more because I wouldn’t like it. We have plenty of fines already.

The door that led into the kitchen was open too. Mary Lou had a nice modest-size clapboard house. The outside was a weathered slate color. The inside, from what I could see, was mostly yellow. In the kitchen, a small wood table with two chairs was nestled between a dish cabinet and a stove. A toaster oven sat in the middle of the stove, mute testimony to the stove’s disuse. There were plenty of pictures of her only son, Derek, and his two children. Derek lived in California. As far as I knew, he hadn’t been back to visit in many years.

The house looked a little sad and lonely, not neat and orderly like Miss Mildred’s house. There were boxes, crates and turtle rescue signs everywhere. Every other free space was taken up with sewing projects. Heaps of material waiting to be cut into quilt squares dominated her living room.

I looked quickly through the kitchen and living room but didn’t see any sign of her purse. I glanced out the door and saw Tim still moving baskets. How hard could it be to find a purse? I went back over the same territory with more determination. Still nothing.

I made my way into Mary Lou’s bedroom, wishing I didn’t have to. It felt a lot like spying on her, but I guessed if she wasn’t worried about it, I wouldn’t be either.

The bedroom was a mess, with clothes strewn everywhere. I pushed a few shirts off of her beautiful antique vanity but still no sign of the purse. I turned on the overhead light and glanced in the bathroom. Nothing in there either.

I was about to call Carter Hatley’s cell phone (I knew Mary Lou didn’t have a cell phone) when I glimpsed what looked like a purse next to an open ironing board near the bed. I shifted some of the clothes away from it and success! I carefully searched for her checkbook in the surprisingly neat confines of her purse and fished it out with all the excitement of catching a two-hundred-pound tuna.

I didn’t want to be in her house without her for any longer than was necessary. As I turned to run back out the door, my gaze fell on a black dress. Suddenly, I felt the slow-motion sensation I usually felt when I found something important.

The dress was draped across the ironing board, four or five other dresses with it. Immediately the thought hit me: She has a dress just like Miss Elizabeth’s. I put the checkbook on the bed and picked up the dress.

I was right. The same classic style: black dress with pink hearts, just like the one Miss Elizabeth had been wearing when I found her. It appeared to be made out of the same cotton material and even had the same fluted neckline and puffed sleeves.

For a few minutes, I stood there looking at it. A thousand thoughts raced through my brain, but I rejected all of them. This had to be some kind of terrible coincidence. It had nothing to do with what happened to Miss Elizabeth. A lot of local women might have a dress like this one if one of the local boutiques had sold it a few years back. It didn’t mean anything.

As I was telling myself this, the stack of clothes I’d shoved out of the way fell to the floor. Despite the heat outside and decided lack of air-conditioning inside, I felt a chill rush over me. It raised goose bumps on my arms and sent a prickle across the back of my neck.