Teddy Tumpin (An Ollie Stratford Cozy Mystery Book 5) Read online

  During the evening, I talked to Millie and Bob about upcoming events at Ealing Homestead.

  "I've got three events scheduled and with Roger's that makes four. That's enough for me to break even in my finances this quarter."

  "It looks like your business is about to take off," said Bob.

  "Sure hope so. But to tell you the truth, I'll need to increase the number of events even further before I can relax in a luxury hotel in the Bahamas."

  Bob let out a chuckle as Millie looked around nervously and reached into her handbag. Out came Professor Purple, a superior smile on his face. Bob shrunk back in his chair and I saw a definite hint of malice in his eyes.

  "Now listen here, Bobby Boy," said Professor Purple in a fatherly tone. His puppet brow creased into a deep frown and he tilted his head to one side. "The biggest event in this town is taking place tomorrow evening."

  "Tomorrow evening," echoed Bob as he looked toward me and rolled his eyes.

  Professor Purple rotated his head to look in my direction. The puppet's eyes narrowed. Then he spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. "Tomorrow evening is the Medlin Creek High School homecoming parade. Homecoming is the highlight of the Medlin Creek calendar. The entire town will be out to enjoy the festivities. What about you?"

  Bob thought for a moment. "Oh, can't say I've been to one of those. Anyway, I'm on a date with Millie. We are going to a show at the Institution Theater, and will have a meal on Congress Avenue, then a late-night stroll around the Capitol building. They say it's beautiful by moonlight." He half closed his eyes as if savoring the memories yet to come.

  "Ooh la la," cried Madame Bleu appearing on Millie's other hand. "Such a wonderful evening, such sentimental tones, such subtle flavors of emotion and passion." She leaned in close toward Bob, who with a somewhat self-satisfied expression in his eyes whispered something into the sock puppet's ears. Madame Bleu's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. "Ooh la la," she said trembling back into Millie's handbag.

  Bob tipped his head back and let out a wild laugh. All the while Professor Purple looked on, his button eyes narrow and his face scrunched up into a crumpled ball. "It is not wholly unreasonable to watch a show, have dinner, and walk around the Capitol building grounds under the gentle twinkle of starlight," said Professor Purple.

  "Pleased you agree," smiled Bob giving me the thumbs-up.

  "But tomorrow night is Medlin Creek High's homecoming parade," continued Professor Purple. "You will take Millie to the homecoming event and support her as she collects information for an article to appear on the front page of the Medlin Creek Times."

  Bob protested, "Now listen here—"

  But before he finished his sentence, Professor Purple spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. "There is no need to thank me. I've spoken with Kate Wilhelm and she has canceled the tickets to the show. A refund rather than rescheduling for an alternative evening seemed best. That is the logical course of action, wouldn't you agree, Bobby boy?"

  Bob's face flushed, and I noticed a curious purple tinge around the edge of his lips. He was about to jump to his feet in protest when Millie threw her arms around him. "Oh Bob, that is so cool, I love you! I'm really going to enjoy tomorrow evening. I cannot think of anything better than attending the homecoming parade."

  At this point the fragmented conversations merged into one.

  "Bob, you're in for a real treat," Dominick said. "You'll see the homecoming parade and my favorite—the puppet pageant."

  "Puppet pageant," repeated Bob in an angry voice tinged with curiosity. "What's the puppet pageant?"

  "Kind of a tradition of Medlin Creek. It's when all the puppet masters and puppets of the Hill Country come together to march and dance as part of the homecoming parade."

  "Yes," Roger said, "it goes back to the founding of Medlin Creek when two puppet masters met on the Riverwalk trail. They were from different religious backgrounds and so were forbidden to marry. I believe she was Catholic and he was Baptist, or perhaps she was Jewish, and he was Hindu. Anyway, the puppets fell in love and absconded together with their puppet masters."

  "Of course," added Dominick "today the puppet pageant is promoted as a place where puppets can find new homes. Families donate their gently used puppets. They are collected and distributed across the entire state of Texas to theaters in need."

  "They say the Medlin Creek homecoming parade is the largest supplier of used puppets in the entire state," said Roger, puffing out his chest with pride.

  A curious little smile crept across Bob's lips. It started at the corners and moved slowly inward toward the center. It then crept upward across his cheeks, which raised like leavened bread. Finally, it spread to his eyes. They twinkled like stars in a midnight sky. "I'll go," he said firmly, then turned to give the thumbs-up to Professor Purple.

  Chapter 8

  There is something magical about walking a Texas Hill Country trail in late summer. Perhaps it's the gentle breeze that sweeps across the countryside bringing with it the tang of pine mixed with freshly mown lawns and crushed lemongrass. Or maybe it's the gentle tinkle of spring water cascading over pebbles into a babbling brook. Whatever it is, the sights, sounds, and scents of an early morning stroll through the Hill Country lifted my spirit and brightened my day.

  It wasn't yet seven a.m. when we hit that part of the trail that looped around toward the lane, that led back to Ealing Homestead. I was with Bodie, along with my neighbor, Emma Garcia, and her dog, a mutt called Benji. Emma worked as an administrator at the Medlin Creek Community College and her husband, George, ran his own construction business. Emma and George had recently opened a Mexican restaurant on part of their homestead.

  "The restaurant is booming," said Emma. "But we're not going to open more than three days a week."

  "Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings only?" I said, turning to glance at Emma.

  "Yep." She smiled. "We figure we can open every day, but George wants to keep his hand in construction, and I love working at Medlin Creek Community College."

  "It's all about finding the right balance," I said. "And that's not easy when your business takes off."

  "That's right," agreed Emma. "George and I were both tempted to go into the catering business full-time for the money. But we realized that's not what we want. We enjoy running the restaurant part-time. It's the right life balance for us."

  I nodded in agreement, and we fell into silence. For several minutes the only sound came from our footsteps and the patter of Bodie and Benji's paws on the dirt path. A turkey vulture soared overhead, its huge wings casting a shadow across the earth as its beady, dark eyes searched for its next meal. A roadrunner scampered across the path in front of us, turned to peer up into our faces, then disappeared into a clump of bushes before the dogs barked.

  As we approached a section of the trail that dipped out of sight, the sound of wild grunts became audible.

  "What's that?" I asked turning to Emma.

  She responded by calling Benji to her side and putting him on the leash. I did the same with Bodie. The dogs tugged us toward the sound, straining on their leashes and yapping as we walked forward.

  At the brow of the hill the grunting grew louder. Then, one hundred yards away, a figure appeared. It was running up and down a steep incline with a cloth sack across the shoulders. From the distance it was impossible to know what was inside the sack, but it looked heavy.

  "It's one of those fitness fanatics," said Emma.

  The figure, a man, all sharp angles with huge muscles, stumbled up the incline, grunting as he went. At the top, he paused for a moment and then jogged with the sack across his shoulders down to the bottom.

  "It's Teddy Tumpin," I said as we stopped far away to watch his exercise routine.

  "Oh my gosh," exclaimed Emma, "he was the most winning quarterback in the history of Medlin Creek High School. Let's go over and say hello; I've never met him."

  Before I could protest, Emma and Benji had set off at a fast clip. I hur
ried along trying to keep up but fell back a few paces as Emma's walk broke out into a light jog.

  "Wait up, Emma," I cried. But she didn't look back.

  By the time Emma got within speaking distance, Teddy had climbed to the top of the hill and was performing shoulder presses with the heavy sack.

  "Teddy, thank you for visiting with us in Medlin Creek," giggled Emma.

  His head swiveled, and the big man broke out into a smile revealing deep wrinkles crisscrossed like tree roots around his eyes. "Didn't expect anyone on the trail at this time in the morning. Medlin Creek is where my heart is." He was breathing heavily and sweat dripped from his brow.

  "I'm Emma Garcia and this is Ollie Stratford," she said half nodding in my direction. "We walk this part of the trail most mornings with our dogs."

  "I doubt you will encounter anyone else now," I added, trying to get a word in.

  "Ladies, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm here for the homecoming," he huffed in a gruff voice, wiping sweat from his eyes.

  "Oh, I'll be there to cheer you on," said Emma, her eyes dancing over his muscular form.

  "Thank you. The homecoming committee has asked me to escort this year's homecoming queen, Crystal Healy, during the parade. Just doing a few interval sprints to prepare for tonight."

  Emma nodded, her eyes wide and mouth half open. There was an awkward silence.

  "If I spot you when I'm in the parade, I'll be sure to wave," said Teddy picking up the heavy sack. Emma squealed with delight as Teddy Tumpin jogged wearily away. We stood staring out into the distance long after he had disappeared from over the horizon. Eventually we turned back toward the trail.

  A slight flash of unnatural movement out of the corner of my eye caused my head to swivel. A small copse of cedar trees, twisted into grotesque shapes, stretched their knolled branches toward the heavens. Laden with leaves, they cast shimmering shadows onto the ground. Then I saw her—the woman in the dowdy, gray dress, a sour expression on her face—peering in the direction Teddy had taken.

  "Do you see that woman?" I said, turning to Emma and pointing toward the copse of trees.

  Emma swiveled her head. "No, I don't see anyone."

  Neither did I.

  The woman in the dowdy, gray dress had vanished.

  Chapter 9

  After a long, hot shower and a light breakfast of scrambled eggs and a bagel, I sat down at my desk in the little office to review the list for the day. The cell phone buzzed before I got started.

  Hope to see you at the Sisters of the Creek Coffee Circle. Wednesday at ten a.m. - Gratia.

  With a red pen, I put a circle around this evening's homecoming event and underlined review financial spreadsheet, and contact Theodora. During any day there are hundreds of tasks crowding in for attention. A circle or underline are my way of identifying and prioritizing items on my list. A circle signifies a social event and an underline for priority. This system keeps me on track, most of the time.

  Today, there were lecture notes to prepare, student assignments to grade, and various administrative tasks associated with my full-time position at Medlin Creek Community College to complete. I began by calling Theodora Simon, an event planner. I work with Theodora on events at Ealing Homestead.

  "Ollie, I heard the exciting news," she said. "I can't get my mind around the fact that Roger is getting married after all these years as a bachelor, and to the homecoming queen!"

  "It was quite a surprise," I replied.

  "I guess Crystal Healy was his first sweetheart and now he wants to recreate the memories," said Theodora.

  We discussed the current events booked for Ealing Homestead and outlined plans for Roger's upcoming wedding.

  "Things are finally turning around for you, Ollie," she said at the end of our conversation.

  "Yes, they sure are," I replied before hanging up.

  The mechanical clock high on the mantel struck the top of the hour. I got up and stretched. "Guess I'd better review the financials," I muttered, as I finished one last downward-facing dog.

  Back at the computer I went over the numbers. Adding Roger's wedding in would move the needle further into the black. For an instant I considered calling Mr. Oden at the Havis County Insurance Company. Now, I would have enough cash flow to cover the premiums. "Might be a good idea to renew straightaway," I said aloud. Then, I thought it might be better to top up my emergency fund. It had become depleted over the past several months.

  The cell phone rang as I was still debating the issue. The screen indicated it was eleven-fifteen a.m. I picked up to the sound of wild shrieking.

  "Shut up, shut up."

  It was Roger.

  "Roger," I said in a startled voice, "what's going on?"

  "Sorry to disturb you, Ollie," he said in a tense tone.

  "What was that noise?"

  "Crystal."

  "Crystal is at your apartment now?"

  "Yep, she arrived this morning and is making herself at home." His voice sounded flat and expressionless.

  There was more shrieking followed by Roger's muffled voice. The shrieking died down and Roger returned to the phone.

  "Can you come over here right away?" he asked. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "It's about the—thing."

  "What do you mean about 'the thing?'"

  "You know, the thing between me and Crystal," he said.

  "The wedding?"

  "Yes, I want to talk with you about…" His voice trailed off.

  "I'll be there in fifteen minutes." Then I realized I hadn't asked him the most important question. "Is Crystal happy with Ealing Homestead as a wedding venue?"

  He was silent for so long that I thought he had hung up.

  "Roger, are you still there?"

  "Yes," he replied, then in a low whisper continued, "things are a little confused right now. I'll see you in fifteen minutes."

  Chapter 10

  Roger's apartment on Crossroads Hollow was a twenty-minute drive across town. As I maneuvered through the midmorning traffic, I practiced my "let's be friends" smile figuring it would be best to side with Crystal when it came to arrangements for Ealing Homestead. "If the bride is happy so is the groom," I muttered, recalling the words of Mr. Maxwell, whose event center training course I had attended several months earlier.

  I pulled into the parking lot at the rear of the Crossroads apartment complex, checked the mirror. My smile looked good. It was early, and what had begun as a cool morning in the late summer had transformed into a hot, sizzling day under bright blue skies. The gentle hum of the air-conditioning units accompanied my hurried steps to the main entrance.

  The apartment had the grandeur of a much larger building, and as I stepped into the hallway, I felt the wonderful, cool air. I headed toward the bank of elevators. Roger's two-level bachelor pad was on the fourth floor. It was walkable but not today as my early morning stroll across the Hill Country trail was enough exercise for one day.

  The elevator doors opened, and I hurried to apartment 4B. There was no need to knock at Roger's door. It was always unlocked. I pushed the door handle. It swung open silently.

  Immediately on entering the main reception area, I sniffed a weird aroma—possibly a blend of cedar, teak, musk, and greasy food. And it was dark inside; heavy purple curtains blocked out the sunlight, and spooky music played softly over the loud speaker system. On a wooden table rested a small cage with two mice, one brown the other white. They peered out of the bars, their beady eyes watching my every movement.

  Everything about the space, from the deep-pile rug with zodiac signs to the candelabrum, with six flaming candles, on top of a small coffee table, differed from my earlier visits.

  It was as if Roger's reception area had transformed overnight into some sort of shrine. For an instant I thought I had entered the wrong apartment, then as my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I spotted Roger slouched in an oversized wingback chair. His head tilted to one side, and his chest rose and fell as if synchronized
to the spooky voices chanting unintelligible words over the speaker system.

  "Roger, it's me Ollie," I said in a whisper, not wanting to disturb him but on the other hand wanting him to wake up. I glanced around the room. There didn't appear to be anyone else present. "Roger, it's me, Ollie!" I shouted.

  Roger's head jerked up. "Whoa, what now?" He swiveled his head to glance in my direction. His eyes were baggy, and a dense blanket of gray stubble protruded from his chin.

  "It's me, what's going on?" I said.

  "Oh yeah," he replied in a groggy voice, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Thanks for coming over."

  I needed to move things along, get his and Crystal's initial suggestions on the wedding and return home to finish my tasks. "How are things going with Crystal?"

  Roger stood up, his faint smile hinted at something other than great, although he didn't answer.

  "It'll take a while to settle down," I said reassuringly. "Where is Crystal?" I'd speak with her first, then double back to chat with Roger.

  "She's upstairs." His tone was flat and expressionless.

  "Oh, this is simply wonderful," said a voice from a doorway on the far side of the reception area that led to the second level. It was a familiar voice I couldn't quite place.

  Out from the gloom, with a broad grin on her face, strode Jane Braithwaite, vicar at St. Francis Anglican Church. "I can't believe I've been asked to officiate the matrimonial ceremony. Mr. Braithwaite will be pleased, I'm sure, to hear that you're tying the knot at last, Roger." She made a little curtsy, all the while staring at Roger and grinning.

  Roger remained standing with his baggy eyes wide. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, but no words came out.

  "Of course," continued vicar Braithwaite in a more formal tone, "my husband Mr. Braithwaite will also attend the ceremony, if that is all right with you, Mr. Romantic."