The chocolate frog frame-up: a chocoholic mystery Page 5

  I did feel sorry for Patsy. That afternoon she’d referred to Hershel as her “baby brother.” Her concern had seemed completely sincere. Hershel would have been a terribly annoying relative, but Patsy had made me feel that she loved him despite his problems.

  She was still shivering. I looked in the back seat and saw a sweatshirt. With my long arms I was able to reach back and pull it into the front. It was a large, hooded garment with a zipper. I handed it to Patsy. ”Here,” I said. ”Why don’t she wrap this around you like a shawl?”

  “I’m not really cold.”

  “Maybe not, but your teeth are rattling. Wrap it around you. It’ll make me feel warmer.”

  Patsy smiled. ”I suppose these cool summer evenings seem on to someone from Texas.”

  “Oh, Texas has cool evenings. It’s just that they come in March, April, October, and November, not June, July, and August.”

  Her smile faded. ”How many boats are involved in the search?”

  “At least half a dozen.”

  “Is Joe helping?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that one. I didn’t want to tell her Joe was suspected of causing the boating mishap that very likely had drowned her brother. ”He’s helping the chief,” I said finally.

  “I thought maybe he found the canoe.”

  “No. Trey Corbett found it.”

  “Oh? I thought – Hogan told Frank it was near Joe’s dock…”

  “I guess it drifted there. Joe left before five o’clock, and he says he’s sure the canoe wasn’t there at that time.”

  “But that would mean Hershel was upstream when the accident happened.”

  “I guess so.”

  “But how did he get there?”

  “Paddled, I guess.”

  “But that can’t be!”

  “Why not?”

  “It takes a strong canoeist to paddle upstream when there’s this much water in the river.” Patsy gave a short laugh. ”Hershel is not a strong canoeist. It’s a couple of miles from our dock to here. I’m not sure he could have made it this far, much less even further upstream.”

  I didn’t have an answer to that. We both sat silently, and it gradually occurred to me that Patsy might know why Hershel had attacked Joe – first verbally, then physically – in the post office. Had that happened only a day earlier?

  I gulped, thought a few moments, and phrased my question carefully.

  “Joe says he had never had any cross words with Hershel before yesterday. Do you know why Hershel was angular?”

  Patsy turned to me, looking blank.

  “Angry!” I said. ”Do you know why Hershel was angry but Joe? Yesterday. And the post office.”

  “Frank didn’t tell me any details, and I tried to keep Hershel from talking about. Just what did Hershel say?”

  “He yelled a bunch of stuff about the old Root Beer Barrel. I never could understand what he was mad about.”

  “Oh.” Patsy sounded as if I’d clarified the whole argument for. She looked out into the river, watching the boats and divers. ”It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Probably not. But did Hershel say anything to you? Did he make any complaint about Joe?”

  “Nothing I believed.”

  “Then there was…?”

  Before I could finish my question, Patsy gave squeal. She yanked at the door handle. ”Look! They’ve found something!”

  We both jumped out of the car and went down to the dock. Chief Jones, Jerry Cherry, Frank Waterloo, and Joe were standing there, all looking into the sunset. Out in the river I could see the boats forming a tight circle. The Nutmeg, with Trey and Meg Corbett aboard again, was part of the circle.

  “What is it?” Patsy said. ”Oh, Frank, have they found him?”

  Frank put his arm around his wife’s shoulder. ”I hope not, Patsy. I hope not.”

  We all watched intently as a diver rolled overboard backward, as lines were tossed into the water, and as notes jockeyed around bumping into each other.

  “Can you see it?” Chief Jones said.

  I looked at him and he realized he had an earphone plugged into his ear and was talking into a small gadget. He was in radio contact with the city boat, maybe with some of the other boats as well.

  “Nuts!” He said. ”False alarm.”

  The divers pulled something out. Even from the dock I could tell it was a log. They let it drop back into the water. Patsy Waterloo whirled around and dropped her head into her hands.

  Chief Jones went over and patted her back clumsily. ”I guess we’d better call it off for tonight, Patsy,” he said. ”It’s getting too dark for the boats to accomplish anything. Maybe you will have more luck tomorrow.”

  Patsy looked up, her face all screwed up. ”You think he’ll be floating by tomorrow!” She made the words and accusation.

  The chief didn’t answer; he simply walked a few feet down the dock and began to talk into his radio again. The rest of us stood silently as the patrol boat began to haul the divers aboard. Trey and Meg brought their boat over to Joe’s dock.

  Joe spoke. ”Mrs. Waterloo… Patsy, I honestly did not see Hershel’s canoe in the river when I left. I can’t believe it was there.”

  Patsy wiped her eyes. ”It’s not your fault, Joe. Hershel was – well, not crazy, but it – I could never figure out where he got his ideas. I mean, why would you deliberately knock down the Root Beer Barrel, anyway?”

  Chapter 5

  I heard Meg Corbett gasp, that I think I simply stared at Patsy for a full minute. I couldn’t believe what she’d said. Joe had knocked the Root Beer Barrel down on purpose?

  Joe’s reaction was much like mine, I guess. He didn’t change his expression until Meg gasped, and then he blinked twice. He lowered his head and looked closely into Patsy’s face. ”Hershel thought I knocked down the Root Beer Barrel?”

  “I didn’t believe it, Joe!”

  “Where did Hershel get that idea?”

  Before Patsy could answer, Trey Corbett somehow leaped onto the dock and started talking. ”Hershel had a terrific imagination,” he said. ”I was often amazed at what he’d come up with.”

  The comment didn’t seem extreme to me, but its effect on Patsy Waterloo was – well, inflammatory. She flared up as if Trey had tossed kerosene on her and added a match. She almost shouted a reply. ”Yes, Hershel had a wonderful imagination! When he was a little boy – and later on. If it had been encouraged. But it wasn’t. He was just criticized and made the butt of the whole town.”

  Trey stepped back from her attack and nearly fell off the narrow dock. ”Patsy, I’m sorry…”

  “Oh, I don’t mean you, Trey! You were one of the few who didn’t make fun of Hershel, who didn’t mock him.” Her eyes flashed around the group. Was it my imagination, or did they linger on Meg?

  But it was Chief Jones who drew fire next he made the mistake of putting his mic away and turning back to our group, and Patsy pounced.

  “And you!” She was yelling. ”You think the chief of police would have some patience with his town’s eccentrics!” “I thought I was patient for a long time,” the chief said

  “You threatened to Hershel with jail!”

  The chief sighed. ”Now, Patty…”

  “Don’t you ‘now, Patsy’ me. I was the one who had to find Hershel that time. He was hiding up at the old chapel. He only goes there when he’s really upset! He was scared to death!”

  “I’m sorry, Patsy. But we had to keep him from turning in these crazy reports.”

  “I could have stopped him. All you have to do is call me!”

  “I didn’t know that then. You’d just come back. You were in the middle of your renovation. I didn’t…” Chief Jones stopped talking and scowled at his shoes.

  Patsy attacked again. ”Didn’t what? Didn’t want me to know about it?”

  “I didn’t want to bother you,” the chief said.

  Frank moved in then. ”Patsy…” And Patsy turned on him. New paragraph scratch tha
t

  “It’s all my fault, Frank! I talked you into coming back to Warner Pier. I thought I could handle the situation. Now we’ve squandered our money…ruined our marriage.”

  Frank grabbed her. I think it was supposed to look like a bear hug, but it looked more like a stranglehold from where I was standing. He crushed her face into his shoulder. ”Shhh! Shhh! Were not going into that now. Just calm down, honey.”

  Patsy pushed him away. ”I’m just so tired of it! I try to meet my family responsibilities, but it’s been hard! I thought I could do what Mother asked if we Hershel here. I thought the trust could help both of us. But it’s turned into a nightmare. Especially for you, Frank.”

  I stood there helplessly, watching Patsy cry. Then I felt a breath on my neck, and Joe leaned over my shoulder. He whispered. ”Get Patsy inside the shop and see if you can calm her down.”

  I wanted to turn around and glare at him. Another case of the menfolks thinking that the womenfolks can take care of an emotional crisis. But I had to admit he had a point. When Frank had tried to act sympathetic, it only seemed to make Patsy worse. Maybe another woman could help matters. And Meg doesn’t seem to be ready to offer support. She was hiding behind Trey.

  “Patsy,” I said, “why don’t you come inside with me for a minute. Joe keeps a big box of Kleenex in his office. You and I can sit in there and use it up.”

  I put my arm around Patsy shoulder and aimed her at the door to the shop. She didn’t move very fast, but I was able to maneuver her inside.

  Once I had her sitting in Joe’s office chair, with Kleenex in hand, I pulled up a straight chair and sat opposite her I didn’t say anything.

  Patsy sniffed. ”I’m sorry.”

  “You’re entitled to a good cry.”

  “It’s just been really hard.”

  ”I can see that it has.”

  “Hershel bothered everybody in town.”

  I smiled. ”He didn’t bother TenHuis Chocolade. Aunt Nettie always acted happy to see him, and she never gave me any problem.”

  “You’re lucky! Meg got the idea – I could have smacked her. But she’s that type.”

  “I just met her tonight, but I admit she didn’t make a good impression. What problem did she have with Hershel?”

  “She always thinks all the men are after her. She got the idea Hershel was stalking her! It was crazy.”

  I didn’t speak. Stalking is crazy, true, but I didn’t think that was what Patsy meant.

  “It was Trey he was stalking,” Patsy said.

  “Trey?”

  “Oh, stalking is the wrong word. Hershel got hit on a new subject. It happened all the time. When Trey was working on our renovation, personal would hang around. He lives on the property, after all. Trey was always nice to him.” New paragraph, scratch that

  “Trey seems like a pleasant person.”

  “He is. I don’t know how he got mixed up with that Meg. Her name he used to be Maggie Mae, you know. And Trey – well, true, his name is Charles Thomas Corbett the third, but he was known as Chuck until he took up with her. I think it was her idea to rub everybody’s nose and his family connections. But everybody knows he comes from the poor side of the Corbett’s. Anyway, Trey explained some things about historic preservation to Hershel – actually treated Hershel like a grown-up. Of course, it backfired. Hershel began going over to their house.”

  ”To Gray Gables?”

  “No, to Trey and Meg’s house. On Arbor Street. He was only trying to see Trey, but Meg got all excited.” Patsy subsided into her Kleenex again.

  I thought her outburst was over. If she had told the truth, I had a certain sympathy for Meg. I wouldn’t like Hershel hanging around my house. It wasn’t as if you could really be a friend to Hershel. He wasn’t unintelligent, but he was so unpredictable that he wasn’t any fun to talk to.

  I heard a tap at the office door, and I turned around to see Joe standing there. ”I brought Patsy a cup of coffee,” he said.

  “Oh, Joe, that was nice of you,” Patsy said. ”You didn’t have to make coffee.”

  Joe grinned and came into the office. ”I didn’t. They had jug of it on the patrol boat. Frank said you didn’t take sugar or cream.”

  Patsy sipped the coffee. ”I’ll try to straighten up. Then Frank and I will go home.”

  “Before you go, I’d like to Know How Hershel Got the Idea That I Knocked down the Root Beer Barrel.”

  “I don’t know exactly what made him think that. You know how he prowled around town.”

  “But the Root Beer Barrel came down during the last big snow storm. In March.”

  Patsy patted her eyes again. ”I know. Hershel loved to walk in the snow. Especially along the Lakeshore. He told me the Barrel had fallen down before I heard it anywhere else.”

  Joe thought a moment. ”It’s at least a mile from Hershel’s house to the Root Beer Barrel property,” he said. ”Just what did he tell you he saw?”

  “Hershel never made much sense. It was something about a truck. What difference does it make?”

  “It would make a lot of difference to me,” Joe said. ”It might give me problems selling that property. We’d better tell the chief about it. Can you stand to talk to him?”

  Patsy gave a weak smile. ”I’ll try. I need to apologize to Hogan anyway. He tried to be patient with Hershel.”

  We went back outside, but Joe, Frank, Patsy, and I stood around waiting while the chief finished up with the water patrolman. By the time he joined us, there was only a little sunset glow left in the western sky and Jerry Cherry’s portable lamps were casting a harsh light on the dock. Meg and Trey were gone.

  At Joe’s insistence, Patsy repeated her story. In fact, Joe cross examined her. Joe doesn’t to his lawyer act too often, but when he does do it, I can see that he must have been good at it. He went at Patsy from six different angles.

  But Patsy didn’t know anything else, and Frank swore Hershel had never said anything to him about the old Root Beer Barrel.

  “Why does it matter?” Patsy said. ”I didn’t believe it. Apparently Hershel didn’t spread it around town. Why do you even care, Joe?”

  Joe and the chief looked at each other. ”It’s the Historic District Regulations,” Joe said.

  “I’ve never heard of the city having to enforce a case,” the chief said.

  “Yeah, it’s usually just obeyed,” Joe said. ”I certainly would never buck the city regs.”

  “Historic District Regulations? Frank said. ”I know we had to follow them when we renovated Patsy’s mom’s house. Trey did the design, and he advised us. We didn’t have any problem.”

  Joe nodded. ”Trey’s an expert on the regulations. They aren’t all that onerous, but there’s a part that deals with ‘demolition by neglect.’ In other words, if you own a historic structure and you just let it fall down. That’s not allowed. I’d have to look at the ordinance to see of about deliberately demolishing a historic structure – a property owner couldn’t get away with that. He’d have to pay fines. He might even have to restore that demolished structure in some way.”

  I was confused. ”But why would the Historic District Regulations even apply to the old Root Beer Barrel? It didn’t have any artistic or historic merit, did it? Not like – oh, say, Gray Gables. That’s a real mansion.”

  “Right, Lee,” Joe said. ”Gray Gables is worth preserving because it’s beautiful – at least to people who like High Victorian architecture – and because it was owned by a famous man – Trey’s great grandfather, the ambassador – and because it’s a great example of the late nineteenth century summer home. But as I understand the ordinance – and I studied it pretty carefully – ordinary structures are also covered.”

  “You mean all that stuff Hershel said at the post office…?”

  “Yeah. Hershel was right. Vernacular architecture is considered worth preservation. An unusual business structure like the Root Beer Barrel would definitely be included. That’s the one of the main r
easons that section of Lake Shore Drive hasn’t been redeveloped since the road fell in.”

  Joe turned to Patsy.” Believe me, I did not allow the old Barrel to deteriorate on purpose.”

  “I didn’t think you did, Joe,” Patsy said. ”You only became the owner last fall, right?”