Writing in Public: Story #1, scene 4,5,6

[image error]Writer’s note: And the final scenes to the story.  The last name of the remaining character came off a book I happened to have sitting next to me at my desk.

4

Granny and I regrouped over lunch to discuss our plan of action. I’d researched on the woman living behind Harrington–it was why I’d and the other PI dismissed the idea that the actor was going over the fence. Ms. Collett was retired, so she was there all the time. Be hard to sneak by. If it were me and I saw a man hopping the fence every day, I’d call 911.

Granny got real quiet at that, fiddling with a table trifold advertising chocolate cake. I knew better than to interrupt her and dug into my salad (yes, she was converting me! She did pick it though).

“Can you see when her husband passed away?” she asked abruptly. “Would that be available?”

Even when I was growing up, I would see Granny make these leaps in logic that defied gravity. Hadn’t been too popular in the family, because it was always different than what everyone else was thinking. Sometimes it was downright crazy. Now my gut trusted it.

“Everything is available,” I told her. “You just have to know where to look.”

As I retreated to my iPhone to start searching, I thought about how he might have come in contact with Mrs. Collett. He was handsome, and his face familiar. Chat with her over the top of the fence for a few days. Make friends. Maybe offer to help her out with something that was hard for her.

Then I had the information, in the obits for the newspaper. “Nine months ago.”

“Rat,” Granny said.

“Let’s catch the rat.”

5

This time when we returned to the neighborhood, we parked in view of Mrs. Collett’s house. The Auto-Driver pulled right up and parallel parked in a tight spot, no problem. It was one the reasons California had adapted the Auto-Drivers first. Now we would wait.

Mrs. Collett’s house was one of those cute cottages. She’d painted it bright white with royal blue trim. Had fake shutters and even a picket fence to keep the dog in. The yard was like Granny’s: Mowed, trimmed, perfected.

But her husband had died after a “long illness.” That sounded like cancer, which would have eaten a lot of money. I knew what Granny paid for her gardener. Wasn’t cheap. With my broken foot, it would have been too much for me to manage, and I wasn’t sure I could have managed it that well under normal circumstances.

“I want to talk to her,” Granny said abruptly.

“You sure?” I asked.

She’d been in a stony silence since we’d headed back here. Even the Auto-Driver computer had asked her if anything was wrong.

She nodded.

“Don’t tell her Harrington might be conning her. She’ll clam up fast and we’ll never get anything useful.”

“I know.”

Admittedly, as Granny got out and walked to the house, I thought she might blow it anyway. But she was the best person to talk to Mrs. Collett. She’d probably get the widow to talk better than I could.

Mrs. Collett was out in the front yard, weeding the flower bed by the fence line. She wore elastic band Bermuda shorts and a paisley tunic. The noisy dog bounced around her, stubby tail wagging at top speed. Granny came up to the fence, and Mrs. Collett brightened and stood. They chatted for so long that I started to fidget. I hated being stuck in the car like this, unable to do the basics of my own job.

At last, Granny said goodbye and returned to the car.

“What did you tell her?” I asked.

“That I’d moved in with my granddaughter and heard there was an actor in the neighborhood.”

She lowered her head, pressing her lips together. If there’d been smoke, I would have seen it rising off her. I’d never seen Granny this mad.

Her voice took a hard wobble when she spoke again. “He told her he has a crazy fan stalking him so he has to go out through the back so he can go to the studio. He helps her with the yard, inside the house, grocery shopping. She’s been writing him checks.”

My heart plummeted.

“Is there anything we can do?” Granny asked.

“Catch the guy.”

I wished we had better.

6

Once we knew where to look, we caught Harrington pretty fast. He did heavy lifting of grocery bags and climbed over the backyard fence like an action hero–all things he wasn’t supposed to be able to do because of his back. The insurance company was happy, but it left a bad taste in my mouth. What would happen to Mrs. Collett? All Granny and I could do was stop off at a local church and speak with the minister about the widow.

“So, after your first investigation, what are you going to tell the family?” I asked Granny later.

We were back at her house in Morro Bay and I was trying to ignore how sore my body was, even though I hadn’t done anything except sit. We were in the bedroom she’d converted to a weight room. She was doing pushups.  I was trying not to stare.

She finished her reps and stood, using her hand on her thigh to rise. “Oh, they won’t be happy at all. I wished I had known I could have done this years ago instead of answering phones and typing.”

I stared at her, startled. It sounded like I was going to get a new partner and it was going to be my granny.

I could deal. I might even enjoy it.

Filed under: Writing in Public Tagged: California, Granny PI, Morro Bay, Mystery