Dear Readers,
We have no doubt that you have been wondering what the ladies of Grandmothers, Incorporated have been up to lately. With that in mind, we thought we'd present a sampling of our latest adventure. In Whose Knife Is It Anyway we have a real murder to solve this time. You see, we go on a retreat with ladies from three rival churches who, unfortunately, have no sleuthing skills at all. The problem is, one of them may be skilled in murder! That's when the " fun" begins.
CHAPTER 1
“You
did what?” Bryant Bell bellowed.
Beatrice
Bell didn’t let the incredulous look on her son’s face impede her
pride in her accomplishment. Proudly, she repeated her announcement.
“I
got my P. I. license.”
“But
you’re in your sixties!” Bryant croaked.
“That’s
right, and I am now certified by the state of Indiana as a Private
Investigator.”
“You’re
kidding.” Bea’s best friend, Hattie Collier, looked as
dumbfounded as Bea’s son.
Her
other best friend, Connie Palmer, laughed out loud. “What other
jokes do you have for us,
Bea?”
“Oh,
it’s a joke.” The relief in Joshua Pierce’s voice was palpable.
“Thank goodness!”
Bea
glowered at her handsome boyfriend. With his silver mane, athletic
build and great disposition, there were times this man made her feel
absolutely giddy. This wasn’t one of those times.
“No,
it is not
a joke,” she told him coolly.
Bea
had been beside herself with excitement when she called her family
and friends to invite them to her house for dinner. She told each of
them that she had something important to announce. All through
dinner they had bombarded her with questions about her mysterious
announcement. Now that it had been made, it was being treated as a
joke. That didn’t sit well with her.
The
only one who seemed to be taking her seriously was Tina, the
granddaughter that she shared with Connie. The girl was staying with
Bea while her mother was out of town on business.
“I
believe you, Grandmother,” the fifteen year old declared. She
flashed a smile so like her deceased father’s that for a moment Bea
lost focus. Her oldest son, James, Jr. had been married to Connie’s
daughter, Ernestine. He had died from cancer years ago and his only
child was the center of Bea’s life.
“Thank
you, baby.” She kissed the girl softly. “At least somebody
takes me seriously.” She glared at the others. “As for all of
you doubters—.” Picking up an envelope off a table, she removed
its contents, then held up her certificate for all to see. “Here’s
the proof.” She thrust it toward her son.
Plucking
it from her hand, he scanned it briefly.
“What
in the hell is the Get Your Man Institute for Private Eyes? Where’s
that located?”
“On
the internet, and don’t you dare use that kind of language with
me.”
“On
the internet!” Bryant exploded. “You mean to tell me that you
got your detective license on-line?”
“Yes,”
Bea replied defiantly, determined not to let his reaction dampen her
spirits.
She
loved her son dearly. He was a wonderful man, and good looking too.
Like his late father, his complexion was a warm, chestnut brown and
his eyes were dark and expressive, but he was in his forties and
ought to be out looking for a wife instead of meddling in her
business.
“How
much did all of this cost?’ Hattie inquired.
“The
license fee was $150.00.”
“Is
that all?” Connie’s interest was piqued.
“Yeah,
girl, and all I had to do was fill out an application.”
Bryant
was not impressed. “Let me get this straight. I went to college,
majored in Criminal Justice...”
“But
I wanted you to be an engineer,” Bea reminded him. He ignored her.
“I
went through rigorous training at the police academy to become a
member of the Indianapolis Police Department...”
“And
I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”
“Then,
after years of paying my dues, I finally get promoted and became an
investigator, when I could have saved myself a lot of time and
trouble by simply going on line.”
Bea
shrugged. “Who knew?”
“What
did you have to do to qualify for this certificate?” Josh
carefully scrutinized the official looking document Bryant handed
him.
“Well
I had to be at least 21 years old and have no felony convictions. On
top of that, I had to demonstrate the skills and knowledge on how to
operate a firm and do investigations.”
“And
you have experience doing this?” Josh raised a skeptical brow.
Hattie
piped in. “I don’t know if Bea told you, but the three of us
have solved several crimes. There was the Frank Schaffer case...”
“And
the bust at the drug house,” Connie added.
“Don’t
forget the incident with Miss Zelda,” Bea reminded them.
“And
of course all of you must remember how I
solved the mystery in Las Vegas practically by myself,” Hattie
bragged.
Bea
shot her an exasperated look. “This is not about you.” She
turned to Josh. “And to finish answering your question, I also had
to have an Indiana business license to get certified.”
“You’ve
got a business license?” Hattie looked surprised.
“Yes
I do, from the State of Indiana. It didn’t cost that much.”
Bryant
threw his arms in the air in frustration. “Oh great! Since when
did you become a business woman? You’re a retired city
administrator, Mom! Retired!
Remember?
”
Bea
tried to remain patient. “Not any more dear. Connie owns and runs
Palmer Realty. Hattie started, her funeral consultant business, Half
Way Home, and now I’m the proud owner of Grandmothers,
Incorporated.”
“Grandmothers,
Incorporated!” Hattie and Connie screeched in delight.
“Private
Investigators!” Bea took her certificate from Josh and held it high
in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen, Grandmothers, Incorporated, is
officially in business!”
The
three women squealed with excitement, hugging and laughing
exuberantly as they gave each other high fives.
“You
did it, Bea!”
“Congratulations!”
“Way
to go, Grandmother!” Tina joined the trio, giving Bea a big hug.
“I’ve got to spread the word!” She started tweeting on her
cell phone.
Josh
looked on in silent disapproval. Bryant made an attempt to remain
calm. It didn’t work.
“Listen,
Mom, while I applaud your initiative, let me remind you that I am a
decorated member of IPD and I cannot have my mother running around
Indianapolis playing detective. It’s dangerous, and those streets
are no place for a bunch of old ladies playing games.”
As
soon as the words left his mouth Bryant realized his mistake. Josh
groaned in anticipation of the eruption. It didn’t take long.
“What?”
Bea demanded. The look she gave Bryant was primal.
“Who
in the hell are you calling old?”
Connie yelled.
Hattie
held her hands skyward, “Lord! Don’t let me have to hurt Bea’s
child.”
Bryant
had opened a can of worms. The barrage of barbs and insults came
fast and furious. Hands were placed on hips, heads were rolling,
fingers were wagging in his face. Tina recorded the action on her
cell phone. Wisely, Josh stayed out of the fray. Bryant was on his
own.
He
accepted the consequences of having misspoken until enough was
enough. Placing his fingers between his lips he released a piercing
whistle.
“Okay!
Cool it!”
The
shrill sound and commanding order brought gradual compliance. Three
pair of defiant eyes threw daggers his way. Bryant was humbled.
“Okay,
I’m sorry. Believe me, I know that you three are far from being
helpless old ladies.”
“You
better believe it,” spat Bea.
“And,
Mom, please don’t remind me of how you and your friends helped get
me my promotion with that raid on the drug house.”
“And
don’t you forget it.” Miss Hattie couldn’t resist one final
jab.
“The
three of you are beautiful, intelligent and more than capable of
doing great things, but Mother, surely you must understand that
getting a piece of paper over the internet doesn’t mean that you’re
a real Private Investigator. Come on, now!”
Bea
disagreed. “The State
of Indiana seems to think so.”
“And
they trump you any day,” Connie declared.
“Amen!”
Hattie seconded.
Bryant
thought it best to retreat. “I tell you what, Mom. I’m going
home. I’ve got an early day tomorrow, and don’t you have to pack
for that woman’s retreat the three of you are attending?”
Bea
stood arms tightly folded. She didn’t feel very forgiving. Old
ladies indeed!
“That’s right.”
Bryant
started backing toward the front door. “How many days are you
going to be in those woods?”
“We
leave on Thursday and we’ll be back on Sunday,” Hattie answered
for Bea.
“Good,
that will give both of us time to clear our heads about this P.I.
thing.” Bryant took Tina’s phone out of her hand as he was
retreating.
“Hey,
Uncle Bryant!”
“No
Facebook.” Her uncle deleted the video before handing the cell
phone back to her. “Find something else to post.”
“Awww,
man.” The look she gave her uncle now resembled those of the other
females in the room.
“I
don’t need a conference to clear my head,” snapped Bea. “My
mind is clear as a bell. And I plan on engaging in quiet
contemplation and spiritual growth while I’m gone.”
“How’s that supposed to
happen?” Connie scoffed. “You told me that we’re going to be
stuck in the woods with the worst bunch of two faced, backstabbing,
blabber mouths in Indianapolis.”
Josh
looked confused. “But Bea, you said the ladies volunteered for
this retreat to mend hard feelings between some churches.”
“That’s
right,” Bea assured him.
Connie
rubbed her hands together eagerly. “And I can’t wait to see how
this turns out. ”
“Connie,
you’re just going to start some devilment,” Hattie chastised
“Sounds
interesting.” Bryant had reached the front door and couldn’t
wait to exit. “Well, have a good time all of you. And Mom, I’ll
give you a call before you go on that trip with the Road Warriors...”
“The
Road Wanderers.”
“I
stand corrected. Who knows, maybe you ladies will have a story to
tell when you come back from your trip. Love you, Mom. Good night
all.”
“Love
you too.” How could she help but love him. He was her baby,
despite his big mouth.
Bryant
hurried out the door. Bea turned to Josh, the remaining dissenter in
the room. “Have you got anything else to say?”
Josh
swallowed hard. His mama didn’t raise a fool.
“Just
let me know what time the three of you are leaving on Thursday and
I’ll pick you up.”
CHAPTER 2
Several
clusters of women stood in the parking lot of stately Mt. Malachi
Baptist church laughing, chatting and enjoying shared camaraderie.
Conversation gradually ceased when Joshua Pierce’s Aston Martin
pulled into the lot and rolled to a stop. It was followed by
Connie’s small sedan which parked behind them.
Necks
craned to see the driver of the luxury vehicle, and when he stepped
out there were murmurs
of admiration.
When Bea emerged from the passenger side there was a collective gasp.
Hattie
and Connie got out of her car and went to the trunk to remove their
luggage. Connie then walked over to where Bea stood behind Josh’s
car waiting for him to remove her bag.
“Oh,
oh, Bea,” she teased. “Looks like you gave the gossipers
something to talk about on the trip. I told you to show Josh off a
long time ago.”
“I
couldn’t care less,” Bea huffed. “Let them talk. As long as
these hussies keep their hands off the merchandise...”
Hattie
cut her short. “Listen you two! This trip was organized to heal
bad feelings, so let’s change your attitudes right now.” With
luggage in hand, she stalked off to find Dorothy and Thelma.
“I
guess she told us,” Connie scoffed.
“Oh
be quiet,” Bea grunted. “You know doggone well you’re just
going on this trip to meddle. You don’t even go to church.”
“I
do, sometimes. But I have to admit that I do plan on sitting back
these next few days and enjoying the fireworks.”
When
Hattie reached Dorothy Riggs and Thelma Reeves she could tell that
the two friends were upset. It was through their travel club that
she had helped plan this trip and they wasted no time complaining to
her.
“We’ve
got trouble,” an exasperated Dorothy began. “Me and Thelma
thought we’d have everyone sit next to a member of another
church—you know, mix it up so people could get acquainted.”
“But
the way these women are acting, you would think we asked them to
drink poison.” Thelma gave a disgusted grunt.
Dorothy
shook her head in agreement. “Lord, that’s the truth. You might
call this trip a Reconciliation Retreat, but so far the spirit of
cooperation ain’t working.”
Hattie
frowned. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that later. Right
now we’d better get the meeting started.”
The
three women moved to the front of the gathering.
“Ladies!”
Dorothy tried to get their attention. The chatter continued.
Thelma
tried, with an increase in volume. “Ladies!” She was also
ignored.
Hattie
marched over to Josh, who had stayed to see Bea off.
“Josh,
could you help us get everyone’s attention?”
Many
of the women were throwing admiring glances his way, leaving Josh
both confused and amused by the assembly. Doing as Hattie requested,
he put his fingers between his lips and let out a piercing whistle.
The incessant chattering was replaced by indignation.
“What
in the world?”
“Has
he lost his mind?”
With
a nod of thanks to Josh for focusing attention in her direction,
Hattie announced, “All right, Christian women, it’s time to meet
in the church dining hall before the bus arrives.”
“Follow
us,” Dorothy directed. With varied degrees of compliance, the
ladies did as told.
****
When
everyone had settled in their seats inside the church, Dorothy and
Thelma stood in front of the contingent. Some of the women were
receptive, others appeared indifferent.
“Ladies,
as most of you might know Thelma and I started Road Wanderers years
ago to travel with some friends in order to have fun.”
“It
seemed that many of you who had retired wanted to do more than park
your carcasses in a chair, play bingo, do crossword puzzles or watch
soap operas,” said Thelma, “and traveling to new places was the
perfect solution.”
“With
Thelma’s skills at getting cheap group rates for hotels and
entertainment venues, our trips have been very successful,” Dorothy
boasted.
“And
hopefully the trip we’re going to take today will be the best one
of all.” Thelma broke into a bright smile. “You, the members
from the Church of the Living Unity of Christ’s Kingdom Missionary
Baptist church or CLUCK Baptist as it is so fondly called.”
“I
ain’t never been fond of it being called that,” someone in the
back of the room shouted.
Thelma
continued undaunted. “Twelve Disciples Christian church and Mt.
Malachi Baptist have all signed up for this church retreat...”
“And
we all have to thank our friend, Hattie Collier of Mt. Malachi, for
this splendid idea,” Dorothy interjected. “Hattie, come join
us.”
Thelma
and Dorothy led the applause, joined by an enthusiastic ovation from
Hattie’s friends and fellow church members as she came forward.
There was polite acknowledgement from the others in attendance.
A
grinning Hattie was more than glad to be recognized for her Christian
contributions. “Thank you everyone, and in the spirit of the Lord
and of this gathering, I know that you’ll cooperate with our trip
coordinators and sit on the bus according to the seats they have...”
“Hold
it, Hattie!” Once again the cry came from the back of the room.
Lucretia
Martin, the seventy-something
year old widow of Mt. Malachi’s former pastor, made her way to the
front where Hattie, Dorothy and Thelma stood. Because the current
pastor, Reverend Samuel Trees was a widower, the formidable Lucretia
believed the title of first lady automatically reverted to her by
default. It certainly did not belong to Hattie Collier, the woman
that the present pastor was courting. Lucretia made sure to stand
directly in front of Hattie.
“I’ll
handle this,” she told the trio. “As you know, as a first lady,
I have experience organizing.” She addressed the gathering.
“Ladies, if we can each sit next to someone you don’t know or who
goes to a church other than your own, it would facilitate what I feel
we want to accomplish.”
Bea
was standing with Josh at the back of the room, but she made certain
that her comment could be heard. “We? We who, Lucretia? You
didn’t have a thing to do with organizing this retreat. Hattie
did.”
A
member of Mt. Malachi took offense at how her former first lady was
being addressed. “Mother Lucretia is an elder in our church. Have
some respect.”
A
CLUCK Baptist member came to Bea’s defense. “But she’s right.
You would think that you’d give credit where credit is due.”
A
Twelve Disciples church member spoke up. “Anyway, Miss Lucretia’s
husband is dead. Why does she think she’s a first lady? Reverend
Trees has been the pastor at your church for years. What’s she
first lady of?”
Eyes
widened and backs stiffened as malevolent glares passed between the
members of the three churches represented. Rumblings of dissent
began to rise. Chuckling, Josh teased Bea.
“Look
what you started.”
“Oh
be quiet.” She rolled her eyes at him.
“Ladies!
Ladies! Raising her hands to gain their attention, Thelma tried to
halt the rising rebellion, but the gauntlet had been thrown.
LaVerne
Nelson, another member of CLUCK Baptist spoke up. “All I’ve got
to say is that if what Bea said was disrespectful, some people must
not know what respect means!”
“When
did CLUCK Baptist become familiar with respect?” Pearl Mason shot
back.
Hattie’s
eyes slid to Dorothy and then to Thelma. The two women looked shell
shocked. World War III was surely looming. Every woman in the room
was aware of the feud between Pearl Mason, the pastor’s wife at
Twelve Disciples Christian, and LaVerne Nelson.
When
CLUCK Baptist sponsored its big “all city” church musical a
couple of years ago, Laverne had been the president of the planning
committee. She and Pearl had been on speaking terms then and
Laverne’s committee had picked Pearl’s brain about how to pull it
off and who to invite. It was well known that Reverend Mason’s
wife had a great deal of influence in the city’s religious
community. She could be quite charming as well as politically savvy.
Pearl
also fancied herself as being a great gospel singer. Although she
was in her sixties, she had dreams of launching a recording career.
In exchange for her ideas and contacts Pearl was to be listed as a
soloist in the program. Yet, when the program came out, not only was
she not on it, but her church wasn’t invited to the event. The
memory of that insult and betrayal was still fresh. Lavern and Pearl
hadn’t spoken since—that is, until now.
“Lord
have mercy! These women are too old to be acting like fools!”
Hattie croaked. “We have to do something!” It wasn’t
farfetched to think that this confrontation might end up in a fist
fight.
It
was the petty feuds, slights and exchange of insults that had amassed
over the years between members of the three churches represented in
the room that resulted in the proposal for a Reconciliation Retreat.
Each of the churches was highly respected in the Indianapolis
community, but the growing animosities between their members
threatened to erode any influence the institutions might have,
especially among young people where it was sorely needed. Something
had to
be done.
At
this particular moment, Hattie knew just what to do. Throwing her
arms skyward, she called on a greater force.
“Heavenly,
Father, this is a day that you have made, so please help these people
to be glad and rejoice in it.”
As
the women began to realize that Hattie Collier was praying they
slowly transferred their attention to her. She was known to take
prayer to a whole new level. Dorothy’s cell phone rang and she
stepped aside to take the call, as Hattie continued to plea her case
to a Higher Power.
“Lord,
we ask you to forgive these women for their uncooperative spirit.
Teach them to fear you, for your wrath is mighty! Sweet Jesus, I
want to see love and harmony on this trip so that none of us here
will find ourselves at the fiery gates of hell for not cooperating.
In your precious name, Amen.”
“Amen,”
a few scattered voices echoed.
Dorothy
stepped back into the room and addressed the women. “I just heard
from the bus driver. He’s a block away. Now he’s not our usual
driver, but I heard he was good. So, come on ladies, grab your bags
and let’s go outside.”
Tension
was still high as Pearl and Laverne glared at each other, but like
the others they did as asked and started filing out of the room.
Thelma gave a sigh of relief and whispered to Hattie, “It looks
like we avoided that disaster.”
“Thank
God. Let’s hope that things get better rather than worse.”
The
words were barely out of Hattie’s mouth when their charter bus came
barreling down the street toward the church. The big vehicle tilted
as the driver made a sharp turn into the parking lot, coming to an
abrupt stop with tires squealing. Several women screamed and ran for
their lives.
“What
the hell?” Connie was dumbfounded. “I
thought Dorothy said he was a good driver!”
Alarmed,
Josh pulled Bea back to safety. “If this guy drives this
foolishly, I don’t know if I want you going on this trip.”
“That
makes two of us,” Bea agreed.
Dorothy
and Thelma approached the bus cautiously just as the doors flung
open. They gawked at the dark-skinned man who stared back at them.
Leaning on the steering wheel, the driver gave them a lopsided grin.
“Ladies,
your chariot awaits.”
“I
don’t think so!” a member of the group shouted defiantly.
“You’re
not scattering our bodies all over the highway!” another one
proclaimed.
“We’re
not getting on that bus with him!”
That declaration became the consensus. It looked as though the trip
might be over before it began.
Hattie,
Dorothy and Thelma coaxed, pleaded and finally compromised to get
everyone aboard. If the women would get on the bus, they could sit
where they wanted.
“I’m
not going to be bothered with a bunch of nagging females,” the bus
driver stated arrogantly.
“Excuse
me.” Dorothy glared at him. “Maybe I need to call your boss for
a new driver.”
“That’s
exactly what we should do.” Hattie agreed.
Unnerved,
the driver stared at them. After thinking about it for a moment, he
tried to look as contrite as possible.
“I’m
sorry I ruffled your feathers, ladies. How about we get this show on
the road?”
“That’s
not much of an apology. I suggest you watch your step from now on
and drive like you got good sense.” Dorothy gave him a look that
said she meant business.
Still
grumbling, the women clambered aboard, delighted to ignore the
seating plan.
“Ladies,
I need your attention.” Thelma clapped her hands loudly. “Quiet
please, so we can do the roll call.” She was ignored.
Tired
of Thelma’s polite request, Dorothy stood up and barked, “Shut up
so we can hear!”
There
was instant silence—for about 15 seconds.
“Dorothy
you’re not talking to a bunch of children.”
“She
must be having flashbacks about driving that school bus.”
“She’s
not going to talk to me like that.”
After
waving goodbye to a departing Josh, Bea came to a half standing
position to
seek out the source of the complaints. As she studied her fellow
passengers she frowned, then leaned over to Hattie. “Where’s Miss
Fanny? Where’s your mother-in-law?”
Hattie
shrugged. “I don’t know. She said that she was coming.”
A
half block away, the continuous blare of a car horn could be heard.
The noise came closer and closer, until a red Mercedes screeched into
the parking lot and pulled beside the bus. Miss Fanny was behind the
wheel.
Hattie
muttered a prayer, asking for the strength to endure her
mother-in-law through this weekend. She had hoped that the crabby
octogenarian wouldn’t show up.
With
her luggage in tow, Miss Fanny climbed aboard the bus and announced
to no one in particular. “Whew! I made it! And in one piece too.
Not bad for a woman in her eighties, huh?” Glancing at the man
behind the wheel, she realized that he wasn’t the Road Wanderers’
usual bus driver. “Who are you?”
“I’m
George Hadley, the substitute driver.”
“Oh,
that’s why I had to struggle with my bag. Our regular driver, Mr.
Sweeney, is a gentleman.”
“Well,
Sweeney ain’t here.”
Looking
him up and down, Miss Fanny griped, “Young man, I don’t think
we’re going to get along.” Taking a seat, she barked, “You
can go now.”
