Vi's Ring: Isabel & Alma Trumbo Cozy Mystery Series, #7

Vi’s Ring

An Isabel and Alma Trumbo Cozy Mystery

Ed Lynskey

LICENSE STATEMENT

Copyright © 2017 by Ed Lynskey and ECL Press. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

This e-Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-Book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Front cover credit: The Jon B. Lovelace Collection of California Photographs in Carol M. Highsmith’s America Project, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division. Ms. Highsmith has stipulated that her photographs be in the public domain for copyright free access. Reproduction Number: LC-DIG-highsm-20922 (original digital file). http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2013630350/ One of the best-known groups of Painted Ladies, it is sometimes known as Postcard Row. This block appears frequently in media and mass-market photographs of the city.

Other Books by Ed Lynskey

Isabel and Alma Trumbo Cozy Mystery Series

Quiet Anchorage

The Cashmere Shroud

The Ladybug Song

The Amber Top Hat

Sweet Betsy

Murder in a One-Hearse Town

Vi’s Ring

Heirloom

A Big Dill

Eve’s Win

Piper and Bill Robins Cozy Mystery Series

The Corpse Wore Gingham

Fur the Win

Ginny Jones Cozy Mystery Series (as Lyn Key)

Nozy Cat 1

Nozy Cat 2

Private Investigator Frank Johnson Mystery Series

Pelham Fell Here

The Dirt-Brown Derby

The Blue Cheer

Troglodytes

The Zinc Zoo

After the Big Noise

Other Novels

Lake Charles

The Quetzal Motel

Ask the Dice

Blood Diamonds

Topaz Moon

Short Story Collection

Smoking on Mount Rushmore

Chapter 1

Well, Isabel, have you seen it? Alma asked from her favorite armchair. I mean how could you miss it? Sammi Jo’s engagement ring is big enough to choke a warthog and shines like a harvest moon.

Alma’s older sister Isabel, watering the African violets, smiled with an enthusiastic nod. It’s breathtakingly gorgeous.

Alma wasn’t shy to scoff. If you say so.

A frown creased Isabel’s forehead. Do I detect an undertone of cynicism?

I have my personal opinion, which I’ll keep personal since everybody can’t seem to sing its praises enough.

Really now, I don’t see how you can feel any different. Engagement rings just like babies and brides are beautiful.

Since you wonder, I’ll tell you what I think. Her engagement ring is too showy and too gaudy for my simple taste. There you go. It feels good to get it off my chest.

Isabel’s frown deepened as she sat down in her favorite armchair. That’s not very nice. Don’t you say it in front of Sammi Jo either. She’s happy as a meadowlark.

Alma humphed. That won’t last for long. The blush will be off the rose before the summer ends. Mark my words.

Just because your getting hitched twice didn’t pan out doesn’t mean Sammi Jo and Reynolds’ marriage will meet the same fate.

Sammi Jo shouldn’t have rushed things. There’s nothing wrong with kicking the car tires a couple of more times before plunking down your money and driving away in it.

Isabel laughed. Sammi Jo has spent the past two years kicking the tires before Reynolds finally gave her the engagement ring. Give her a little more credit. She knows what she’s doing, and we’ll always love and support her.

That goes without saying, but…

But what exactly, Alma? Why are you so crabby? Ever since Sammi Jo got her engagement ring, you’ve been a grumpy pants. What’s going on?

Now Alma frowned. I’ve had this feeling of dread hanging over me.

Is it because you’re worried Sammi Jo won’t be able to assist us with our sleuthwork after she marries Reynolds?

Alma nodded. That’s it on the button.

She and Reynolds had a serious talk where she laid down the law. If he wants to continue running his drag race track, then she keeps on sleuthing with us. He agreed to it, and that’s that.

Did they shake hands on it? Did he sign the written contract she also had notarized?

Alma, we’re talking about Sammi Jo here. When she says jump, Reynolds knows he’s supposed to ask how high.

I see your point, and I can tolerate her engagement ring. When she comes over, I’ll avoid looking at the diamond’s glitter so it doesn’t hurt my eyes.

Now you’re thinking clearly, and it’s a good thing we had our chat.

Alma nodded. When have they set their wedding date? I need some lead time to go shopping for my new dress, shoes, and hat.

Isabel bit her lip. Well…

Well, what exactly, Isabel?

Sammi Jo said Reynolds won’t commit to a wedding date right now. He says he wants to mull it over.

Oh, for the love of Pete, are we going to have to get through another two years of melodrama to clear that hurdle?

My hunch is Reynolds Kyle will be a married man quicker than you can say Indiana Jones.

Before Alma could say Indiana Jones, a knock came at the front door. Isabel followed Alma’s gaze in that direction.

Were you expecting visitors this afternoon? Isabel asked.

Alma rolled her eyes. My stock broker might be dropping by to advise me on a hot market tip I shouldn’t miss.

If you’re done with your sarcasm, would you mind answering the door? Being the older sister, I’m not as spry as you claim to be.

You love to play the older sister card when it suits you. Alma stood up from the armchair and trudged over to check through the peephole. Her eyebrows tilted in surprise as she swung open the front door and greeted their visitor slouching in the sunlight.

Long time no see, she said.

Then you can remember me, the man on the front porch said. My face is still a familiar one to you.

Why on earth wouldn’t it be? Alma replied. The older you isn’t that much different from the younger one.

Your doorbell button seems to be broken, the man said.

Its ringing grates on our nerves, so we left it broken, Alma said. 

From where Isabel sat, she couldn’t see around Alma to identify who stood on the front porch. Isabel craned her neck out so far looking to see she spilled out of the armchair. She scrambled up from the floor and sat again in the armchair. Who is it, Alma?

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Alma replied.

Quit being a nincompoop and answer me, Isabel said.

It’s Stan, Alma said.

Do you mean Stan as in your Husband Number One Stan? Isabel asked.

No, I mean Stan as in Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, Alma replied.

Your sarcasm is insufferable today, Isabel said. Are you going to be civil and invite Stan inside before he dies from heatstroke on our front porch?

I’m thinking it over, Alma replied.

She measured up the trim, six-foot Stan Bennett who she’d once loved and then divorced. He remained handsome as ever, but now it was in a gray, distinguished way. Upon closer look, she saw the serious pain in his steel blue eyes, and his tense lips made his mouth thin as a scratch mark.

She felt sorry for him which alarmed her. She’d spent a lot of time and effort forgetting about both of her former husbands. Luckily for Stan, she could tolerate him the most, or he’d be staring at the front door she’d slammed in his face.         

The Trumbo sisters are polite to all guests, even the exes they haven’t seen in decades, Isabel said. Ask Stan if he’ll join us sitting in the living room.

Give me another reason why I should ask him, Alma said.

Because as the older sister, I should have the final say, Isabel replied.

Alma shook her head. There you go again playing the older sister card when it suits you.

Petey Samson, their lovable, playful beagle, toddled into the living room from the kitchen, took one look at Stan, and wagged his tail while barking once.

Even Petey Samson says do the right thing, Isabel said. How can you refuse him?

Alma sighed. Despite my better judgment, Stan, won’t you please come in and sit a spell with us?

Thanks, but I don’t want to impose on you, Stan said.

Alma sighed again. Look, it’s simple. If Petey Samson had growled at you just now, I wouldn’t extend the invitation. But he barked, saying he likes you fine. Therefore you’re made a welcomed guest in our home.

Stan smiled. That’s the first bit of good news I’ve heard all day.

A sudden grim realization left Alma scowling. There’s been a murder, hasn’t there?

Stan stopped smiling and nodded. How did you know?

Isabel says it’s our gift, Alma replied. I think it’s a curse, but she’s entitled to her opinion. Is it a local murder?

Stan nodded again.

Is the killer still at large? Alma asked.

That’s correct, Stan replied.

Alma let out her longest sigh yet.

Then you’ve come to the right place, Isabel said. She now stood at Alma’s side. Solving local murders is our specialty, isn’t it, Alma? Don’t sigh like a pigeon again, or I’ll toss you a handful of bread crumbs.

Yeah sure, we’re the dynamite duo of septuagenarian sleuths, Alma replied. We’ve never turned down anybody who’s asked us for our assistance. So, take a load off, Stan, and give us the skinny.

I’m so proud of you, Alma, Isabel said.

Just zip it, sis, Alma said. Petey Samson is the one who convinced me to say yes and not you.

Chapter 2

How should I tell you my story? Stan cleared his throat and licked his lips.

How about picking it up at once upon a time? Alma replied.

Isabel sent Alma a be-nicer-to-our-guest squint. Can you tell us who the murder victim is? Isabel asked.

Vi is dead. Do you remember Violet Bennett? Stan glanced at Alma.

A sober Alma nodded. I always regarded Vi as my friend. We haven’t spoken in too many years, but that never changed anything between us, especially now after I hear this terrible news about her.

I also liked Vi, Isabel said. Was she your older or younger sister? I forget which it was.

Vi was almost three years to the day my junior, Stan replied.

Where are my social manners? Isabel said. You must think I’m a heathen. Would you like a tall glass of iced tea, Stan? I can serve it with lemon or lime wedges and sugar cubes.

Alma chided Isabel. Stan is in the middle of telling us about Vi’s murder, Alma said. We’ll have to postpone taking our iced tea break until after he’s finished telling us.

Isabel gave a sniff. For your information, drinking iced tea never takes a backseat to discussing murder at the Trumbo manor.

Thanks, Isabel, but the iced tea will be great later, Stan said. Alma is right because I want to tell you about what happened to Vi.

That’s fine, Isabel said. Please proceed.

But first, would you like a delicious bear claw, Stan? Alma asked. We bought them fresh from the pastry counter at Eddy’s Deli.

Isabel’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance. Alma, if we can’t take an iced tea break, then I say the bear claws will have to wait, too.

This time Alma sniffed. I’ll have you know there’s always enough time to nibble on bear claws. Nonetheless, please go on, Stan. We’re listening without any further interruptions.

Vi and I were passing through Quiet Anchorage on our way to the doll collectors’ convention she wanted to attend in Charlottesville, Stan said. Since we got such a late start and felt so bushed, we decided to stop and spend last night at the Buttercup Bed and Breakfast right down the street from you. At around six o’clock, we retired to our respective rooms on each end of the upstairs hallway. Vi said she had a bad headache and took something for it.

The Buttercup Bed and Breakfast opened last year, Alma said. We’ve never gone inside and have just passed by it. Offhand, I forget who runs it.

Everybody but you knows Sissy Teagarden does, Isabel said.

Alma shook her head. Sissy used to run the Lago Azul Florist Shop before she sold it to Corina Moccasin. Then Sissy ill-advisedly pulled up stakes and moved to Tampa to live with her daughter Britney Lou and her six granddaughters. Stan, jump in here. Do you know?

The lady who greeted us at the front desk introduced herself as Chloe Glover, Stan replied.

Chloe must be an interloper, Alma said. I don’t know any Glovers who’re from Quiet Anchorage. Isabel, is your memory any sharper than mine?

No Glovers, male or female, ring a bell, Isabel replied as she scratched Petey Samson on the head. On the other hand, with so many new folks—not interlopers—moving into the area, it’s no surprise we can’t keep up with them all.

We’d better go introduce ourselves to Chloe, Alma said.

Was Vi murdered in her room sometime last night? Isabel asked.

Stan nodded. As I can best tell, she was. We agreed to meet downstairs in the dining room for breakfast at quarter past seven. I waited at a table until quarter to eight and returned upstairs to her room. She didn’t respond to my knocks and shouts, so I barged into her room. There she lay. In bed. Strangled. Dead. He choked off in a gut-wrenching sob. Murdered.

Alma shivered a split second before Isabel did. Even Petey Samson shuddered.

You can skip over the gory details, Isabel said. We’ll learn what’s useful from Sheriff Fox.

I met him when the local authorities arrived on the scene, Stan said, now better composed and able to speak more clearly. Do you know Sheriff Fox well?

That’s one way to put it, Alma replied. We’ve established an unusual rapport with our local sheriff.

I don’t quite understand you, Stan said.

Our relationship with Sheriff Fox is—how shall I put it?—is a complicated one, Isabel said. Very complicated, I’d go so far as to say.

He’s often more a hindrance than help when clearing up a murder mystery, Alma said.

Stan moaned. That’s not good news to hear since I was hoping for a speedy resolution to Vi’s murder.

I’m afraid your initial hope might be too optimistic, Isabel said.

Did you hear anything during the night from down the hallway where Vi slept? Alma asked.

"Not a