For a few Dumplings More Page 5

  There was a stunned silence. Neither Tony nor I knew what to say.

  “Poor Dot! What a way to go.”

  I cleared my throat and looked at Mary Beth. She was the picture perfect grandma, in her classy pant suit, string of pearls and twinkling blue eyes. Like Henry Thompson, Mary Beth was in the 70s club, but she had never held a job. Other than WOSCO President, that is.

  “You must be in shock. You were standing right next to her, weren’t you?”

  Mary Beth bobbed her head.

  “That I was. So was your grandma. It was a shock, but it’s not the first time I have experienced death.”

  I snorted at her choice of words.

  “At my age, illness and death are more frequent than a trip to the grocery store.”

  Maybe longevity is not that good an idea.

  “You’re President of WOSCO, aren’t you?” I asked.

  We all knew she was.

  “And you’ve been President for what, ten years?” Tony asked, wide eyed. “That’s really something!”

  Mary Beth reacted this time. She blushed.

  “It’s a big responsibility. I’ve been rushed off my feet these last ten years. But the good women of Swan Creek keep electing me every year.”

  “Aren’t you tired?” Tony asked sincerely.

  “I’m exhausted. But I’m lucky to have so many supporters. Can’t say no to the will of the people.”

  I mentally made a gagging sound.

  “We hear you had some opposition this time?”

  “Your grandma and Dot were planning to put their names in,” Mary Beth nodded.

  “What about you?”

  “I have been unopposed all these years. Actually having an opponent would have made it interesting.”

  “You don’t think three candidates are a bit too much?” I asked. “How many members do you have anyway?”

  “We are about 300 strong. Many of them are dormant members.”

  “Did you feel threatened by the other candidates?” Tony asked.

  I frowned. I didn’t want to get on Mary Beth’s bad side.

  She laughed.

  “Of course not. These aren’t strangers. I’ve known Honey ever since she came here. And Dot since kindergarten.”

  “When did you get to the Lucas home that day?” I tried to steer the conversation.

  “About 11. Early enough to eat some of those samosa dumplings you made, Meera. They were delicious!”

  “Did you know all the women who came there?”

  “I suppose so. They are all WOSCO members.”

  “Did you notice any new faces?”

  Mary Beth shook her head.

  “Was anyone acting strange?” Tony added.

  “No more than usual. They were all talking at the top of their voices, about every topic on earth.”

  “Was there anything different about Dot?”

  This was a question I had to ask Motee Ba too. Mary Beth took a moment to think it over.

  “You know, Meera. Now that you mention it, I think there was. She seemed excited.”

  “That could be because she was throwing her name in for the election.”

  “Could be,” Mary Beth relented. “But I think it was something else. She just looked happy. She kept smiling all the time, as if over a private joke.”

  Dotty, or Dot Brown was inscrutable at the best of times. Decades of being around screaming kids had made her stoic. She would find it hard to display emotion even if you slipped her a twenty.

  “Doesn’t sound like Dot,” I agreed. “How long were the lights off?”

  “Oh, about a minute or two. Seemed longer, though.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I stayed where I was. I figured someone would open the drapes.”

  I thought about the thick velvet drapes against the windows. Why were they drawn on a cloudy winter day?

  “Were you scared?” Tony smiled.

  “I’m not scared of the dark, young man. But then someone bumped into me, and I almost fell down. That scared me. A fall can be really damaging at my age.”

  “Did someone else fall down?” I asked.

  Dot Brown had been on the floor.

  “There was a lot of noise in the background. And the room was heavily carpeted.”

  Everything in the Lucas home was lavish. I remembered how my feet had sunk into the carpet in that parlor.

  “Did Dot have any enemies?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  I noted that her answer was different from Henry’s.

  “Are you surprised, though?”

  “Not really. The world’s going to the dogs. Young people have no respect. They just get everything handed to them.”

  “So you expected someone to kill Dot?” I paraphrased.

  Mary Beth reddened.

  “It’s Dot today. Tomorrow it could be me. People want everything handed to them.”

  A timer dinged somewhere and Mary Beth jumped up.

  “That’s my roast. Tuesdays are always Roast Days.”

  That was our cue to leave. We stood up and said our goodbyes.

  “Come back any time,” Mary Beth called out eagerly. “Maybe you can come for dinner?”

  “So?” I raised an eyebrow at Tony as I merged onto the highway.

  “She didn’t give much away.”

  “I thought she was friendly.”

  Tony snorted.

  “I bet it was all an act.”

  “What makes you think that, Tony?”

  Tony is generally a believer. But I trust his instincts.

  “There’s a lot she’s not saying, Meera. You’ll see.”

  I pulled up outside the gas station ten minutes later and drove home. Jeet was sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by Pappa and Motee Ba. He waved a packet in the air as I came in.

  “Princeton!”

  I forgot everything and ran around the table to hug Jeet. In a rare moment, he hugged me back.

  “Congrats, bro!”

  “This is just the beginning,” Pappa boomed, tapping his cane.

  “Does Dad know?” I asked Jeet.

  He shook his head.

  “We’re waiting for him to get home.”

  “This calls for a celebration,” I smiled, ruffling Jeet’s hair. “Why don’t I get the grill going? We’ll make your favorite kabobs and hot fudge sundaes.”

  “Let’s just order in,” Motee Ba argued. “We can all sit back and enjoy.”

  I dialed our favorite Chinese takeout and ordered enough for an army. Then I nestled into the couch with Jeet. He had crossed the first hurdle.

  “Your mother would be so happy,” Motee Ba said, tearing up a bit.

  She’s been saying that for years, whenever something good happens.

  Pappa cleared his throat and tapped his cane. Sally gave everyone a beatific smile and changed the channel.

  Chapter 6

  The mood in the Patel household had turned upbeat. Dad went around with a smile on his face. He hardly ever cracks a smile so he looked really weird doing it. Pappa nodded to himself while watching TV and laughed for no reason. Motee Ba ruffled Jeet’s hair and pulled his cheeks, a very Indian way of showing affection.

  “My son’s going to an Ivy League school,” Dad beamed at breakfast one day.

  “You’ve done us proud, boy,” Pappa roared, adding an extra pat of butter on his toast.

  “I’m still hoping for Harvard,” Jeet said modestly.

  “Fingers crossed!” Dad said, holding up his hand.

  I was happy to see Jeet excited about college. There had been a time last year when he talked of taking a gap year. I had given him a piece of my mind and set him straight.

  There had been no updates from Stan. I stacked books through the morning, determined to go out for lunch. Tony and I went to our favorite Mexican place.

  “Who are we seeing next, Meera? Or are you planning to drop the whole thing?”

  “I don’t think I hav
e that luxury,” I sighed.

  Winter was dragging its feet in a post Christmas slump. I felt a big weight on my shoulders. I took Motee Ba aside as soon as I went home that evening.

  “What do you know about Fiona Thomas? Is she new in town? I’ve never heard of her.”

  “Is that the other girl who was standing next to Dot?” Motee Ba asked.

  I nodded.

  “She moved here a few months ago with her son. Always impeccably dressed.”

  Motee Ba has a great fashion sense. She mostly shops in New York City or in New Jersey whenever she goes there to visit my aunt. If Motee Ba admired the girl’s fashion sense, she had to be pretty good.

  “What’s she doing here in Swan Creek?”

  “She’s not at Pioneer,” Motee Ba began. “She works at the bank. Her family’s in Texas, I think. Estranged.”

  “That’s all the gossip you have?” I asked.

  Motee Ba shrugged.

  “Maybe Sylvie knows more.”

  Sylvie hears a lot of things at the diner, even when she doesn’t mean to.

  I decided to splurge for breakfast the next morning and pulled up at Sylvie’s.

  “Good Morning, child. Aren’t you working today?” Sylvie gave me a warm hug.

  Becky waved a spatula in greeting from the kitchen. The breakfast crowd was in and the diner seemed busy. Becky brought out a plate for me, with a large omelet, sausage links, French toast and hash browns. Just what I needed to warm up.

  “Eat up, girl,” Jon called out.

  I didn’t waste any time. I am quite obedient that way.

  After wolfing down half the omelet and French toast, I finally came up for air. Sylvie poured some fresh coffee, topping up my mug.

  “Do you know Fiona Thomas?” I began.

  “That new girl, the one with the green eyes?” Sylvie demanded.

  “Yes, I think.”

  “She’s Miss High and Mighty, isn’t she? Thinks she’s better than us small town folks.”

  “Did she talk you down?” I asked, curious.

  “She’s a sweet talker, that girl. But I heard her talking on her phone. Bitchin’ about how she’s stuck in the boon docks.”

  I sympathized with Sylvie.

  Small town folks are proud. They may not get around a lot but they take pride in the two square miles they call town. Swan Creek is pretty cosmopolitan with the influx of people from different countries. But anyone who looks down on us is frowned upon. Yes Sir.

  I had a general idea about the girl. I finished my breakfast and thanked Sylvie. I ran a light on my way to work, and then sat at the front desk for a couple of hours, doing practically nothing. It was a slow day at the library.

  I walked to the bank in my lunch hour. We have a couple of banks in town and they both have a branch on campus. I had a 50% chance of being lucky the first time. I took it.

  I knew most everyone at the bank. I spotted a fresh face behind the teller’s counter and made a beeline for it.

  “Ten, twenty, thirty…” She counted out fifty dollars for me.

  “Are you new here?” I asked, trying to break the ice.

  The plaque in front of her confirmed who she was.

  “Sure am!” she drawled. “Will that be all?”

  I hopped from one foot to the other, trying to think of what to say.

  “Can I talk to you?” I blurted out.

  She stared at me, wide eyed.

  “About what?”

  “Did you go to the WOSCO meeting?”

  The girl shuddered. She crossed herself.

  “Sure did. That old lady just dropped dead at my feet.”

  “I’m trying to find out what happened,” I nodded.

  “Are you a detective?” she asked loudly.

  A few heads turned around, giving me some unwanted attention. A few nasty souls smirked at me. Nothing is secret in this town.

  “Not really. I’m just talking to a few people…”

  “Why don’t you come to my house later?” she said eagerly. “I get off at 4.”

  I agreed to meet her around 4:30.

  Tony and I rang her doorbell later that evening. She was renting a small house close to campus. It was student housing, with two small bedrooms and one bath. One of my friends from college had rented it in my Sophomore year and I remembered a few wild parties I’d been to at the place.

  Fiona Thomas had tried to spruce up the house as much as possible. Fresh flower beds lined the yard. Most of the broken furniture, mostly junk left by previous owners had been cleared up. There were two new chairs on the patio. A kid’s bike was standing at the side.

  Fiona opened the door and invited us in. She was dressed in designer jeans and a cashmere sweater. A large solitaire hung on a thin gold chain around her neck. Motee Ba was right. This was one classy dame. At least she knew how to dress.

  The inside of the house had undergone a transformation.

  “The place looks fabulous!” I exclaimed.

  “I rented it furnished,” she admitted. “But it was sort of shabby. So I spruced it up a bit.”

  I don’t know how much money a spruce up qualifies for. Fiona Thomas had obviously dropped a few thousand.

  “My son needs a clean, safe environment to play in,” she added. “I laid in fresh carpet, and got new furniture. Who knows how many people have trampled on it before.”

  I completely agreed with her. College kids are not big on hygiene. I had seen a few dozen people puke on that carpet myself.

  Toy nudged me, reminding me of why we were there. We settled down on the couch and I cleared my throat.

  “You seem to have quite a reputation here,” Fiona forged ahead. “The girls at the bank said you solved a few murders.”

  “Just beginner’s luck,” I said modestly.

  “What do you want from me?”

  Her tone hardened just a bit as she asked this, and her eyes narrowed. Fiona Thomas was no pushover. I caught up to that pretty quickly.

  “My grandma was found standing next to Dot Brown, along with Mary Beth and you.”

  “So that third lady is your grandma? She knows how to dress!”

  I thanked her for her kindness and continued.

  “I’m just trying to understand what happened. I would like to hear about that day from you.”

  A kid yelled from inside. Fiona excused herself and went into one of the bedrooms. She came out to the kitchen, fixed a quick snack and took it in. Then she brought a tray of sweet tea out for us.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot to get my son’s snack today.”

  We thanked her for the tea. It probably came out of a bottle. I know because I saw her pour it out.

  “How did you hear about WOSCO?” I asked.

  “A girl at the bank told me about it. There’s not much to do here in this town, you know. So I thought I’d check it out.”

  “Did you know everyone there?” Tony smiled.

  Fiona looked up at him and simpered.

  “Hardly anyone. I got there after 12. The sitter was late. I was starving. I grabbed some of them fried dumplings and stuffed my face first.”

  “Meera makes them,” Tony supplied.

  “Maybe I’ll order a few from you,” she said, giving me a queer look.

  “Did you know Dot Brown? The lady who died?” I asked.

  “I have seen her at the bank,” Fiona said. “There were a few other familiar faces from the bank. But I hadn’t actually talked to her until that day.”

  “Dotty, I mean, Dot, spoke to you?” I asked, surprised.

  Fiona nodded.

  “There were some old biddies asking people for votes. Small town politics, I figured.”

  One of these ‘old biddies’ was my grandma, of course, and I bristled a bit. Tony put a warning hand on my shoulder.

  “So?”

  “She gave a spiel about how she had educated most of the town,” Fiona explained. “Then she asked me to vote for some other lady. Honey, I think the name was.�
��

  My mouth gaped open. Everyone thought Dot was currying favor for herself. Why was she asking people to vote for Motee Ba?

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “I guess,” Fiona faltered. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “What did you do when the lights went out?”

  Fiona blushed.

  “I panicked a bit. I turned around and walked a few steps. I struck my toe against something and that’s when the lights came on.”

  I swallowed. Fiona had turned pale.

  “Turned out it was her!” Fiona went on. “That dead lady.”

  “Was she standing next to you when the lights went out?”

  “I don’t know, sugar,” Fiona drawled. “They all looked the same to me.”

  “How are you liking Swan Creek?” Tony asked. “Been out anywhere?”

  “I hardly have the time,” Fiona said, drawing out the words as much as she could. “The life of a single mom isn’t easy, ya know?”

  “Why don’t I show you around sometime?” Tony beamed.

  “That sounds nice,” Fiona said.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. There I was, wracking my brains to think about what to ask this woman, and Tony was angling for a date.

  “What brings you to Swan Creek?” I butted in. “Do you have family in the area?”

  “Oh no! My family’s all in Texas. In the big city. I filled out a job ad for the position at the bank. And here I am.”

  “Must get lonely,” I said. “Not knowing anyone.”

  “I met a couple of people,” Fiona said. “And we drive over to my Daddy’s home every other weekend. It’s not too bad.”

  I wanted to ask why she had chosen our little town to look for a job. Why hadn’t she looked for a job somewhere in the city, near her family? But I held myself back. I didn’t want to get on her wrong side.

  “Did you see anything suspicious?” I asked my final question.

  Fiona thought it over.

  “Did you hear anyone argue? Or was there anything odd?”

  “Well, one lady was dipping in the bottle, I think.”

  “That must be Naomi!”

  Naomi Lucas is a slush, and everyone knows it. I didn’t pay much attention to it.

  “The drapes were drawn. It was overcast outside. I wondered about that.”

  I chalked it down to a Lucas family quirk.