Bitty and the Naked Ladies
ALSO BY PHYLLIS SMALLMAN
Sherri Travis Mystery Series
Margarita Nights
Sex In A Sidecar
A Brewski For The Old man
Champagne For Buzzards
Sherri Travis Short Mystery Series
Jack Daniels And Tea
BITTY AND THE NAKED LADIES
PHYLLIS
SMALLMAN
WWW.PHYLLISSMALLMAN.COM
Phyllis Smallman Publishing
THIS EDITION PUBLISHED IN CANADA IN 2011 BY
PHYLLIS SMALLMAN
www.phyllissmallman.com
Copyright © 2011 Phyllis Smallman
All rights reserved.
The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise stored in a retrieval system, without the expressed written consent of the publisher, is an infringement of the copyright law.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Smallman, Phyllis
Bitty And The Naked Ladies / Phyllis Smallman.
(A Sherri Travis Short Mystery)
ISBN 978-0-9878033-5-1 (electronic)
I. Title. II. Series: Smallman, Phyllis. Sherri Travis Short Mystery.
Cover and text design by Phyllis Smallman
Cover Art by Elle Wild
eBook development by Wild Element www.WildElement.ca
BITTY AND THE NAKED LADIES
In late September Florida is a giant sauna. Just walking from my car to the Pig and Whistle set sweat popping out all over my body, so the cool air inside the grocery store was a blessing. I stood by the shopping carts, holding out the bottom of my cotton blouse and gently fanning the cloth to dry my damp skin.
“Sherri!”
I turned at the sound of the familiar voice. “Bitty!”
Bitty got her name because her husband, Davis, said she was just a little bitty thing when they met. Not anymore. It had been a long time since she was even normal size.
I flew into her open arms, breathing in the soft smell of vanilla talc that always surrounded Bitty. “I’ve been meaning to call.”
“Yes, yes, Lovey, I know,” Bitty soothed away my lapse, always ready to forgive and make excuses for my failings. “Things just get so busy, don’t they?”
We braved the heat to make for the restaurant a few doors away. With each step she took soft huffing sounds escaped from Bitty. When we’d settled onto the orange plastic chairs, my life poured out as quickly as the coffee. It always did around Bitty, who listened and made encouraging noises over my worries, disappointments and high spots. It was easy to fall back into my old habit of confiding in Bitty. She’d been my refuge through a troubled childhood, my haven from parental wars, and later, when my father was out of our lives and a new man had moved in, I escaped next door to Bitty’s trailer to hide from the stranger’s hands. Bitty never probed my pain or harried me for details. She just held me close to her plump body and made soothing sounds, stroking my hair and rocking me gently while she crooned, “There, there, child, everythin’s gonna be alright.” Those words became my mantra, words I still whisper to myself when trouble comes calling.
Over the second cup of coffee a worm of misgiving crawled into my consciousness. “Are you all right, Bitty?” I leaned towards her. “I mean really okay. Don’t just be nice.” My palm covered the soft brown hand curled on the turquoise table. “Tell me.”
“I’m well enough.” She scrunched up her face. “Suppose as well as a person can be who’s losing her mind.”
“What? Not you! There’s no one as quick as you.”
The smile she gave me was fleeting. “Things change, Sherri. I’m either losing my mind or things have been walking out of Miss Jane’s house over the last few months. It’s doing my head in.” Since Davis died, a dozen years before, Bitty lived in, cooking, cleaning and looking after Miss Jane. One way or another, Bitty and Miss Jane had been together more than forty years so it was hard to imagine one without the other.
“I don’t know where to turn,” Bitty said.
“What do you mean things are missing?”
“Didn’t pay much attention at first. Tell the truth, I thought I might have misplaced them. Only small things, no great value. But it keeps happenin’.”
“What kind of things?”
She gave a small lift of her shoulders. “Things like a cup and saucer, or once a small plaster statue of a woman with a guitar. Like I said, nothin big. ’Til yesterday. Something awful happened yesterday.” Her eyes swam with tears.
“Tell me what happened.”
“This big glass vase that Miss Jane is real fond of disappeared. It’s called La Lake or something like that, just kinda cloudy white glass with naked women on it. Can’t say I think much of it, but Miss Jane’s real proud of it and she tells me it’s valuable, says if the house burns down I’m to grab that vase before I run out. Now it’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Does Miss Jane know?”
“No, and I can’t tell her. She’s not herself anymore. Some days she hardly knows me. It’s hard. Needs help dressing and bathing, that’s why the nurse comes in, although how much longer we can afford a nurse I don’t know.
“What happens then…when the money runs out?”
“The house is in trust for a nephew. When she can’t stay on, Miss Jane will go into care.”
“And you?” I asked. “What will you do?”
She lifted her shoulders and spread her palms up.
“So if Miss Jane can’t stay there, you lose your home?”
“That’s how it is, Lovey.”
I didn’t want to think about the future. “Well, I’m sure you’re not losing your mind. So who else could have taken it?”
Her lips turned down and her brow furrowed. “Couldn’t just admit I was getting old. I’m ashamed to say I accused someone.”
“Who?”
She moved restlessly on her chair, gave a giant sigh and said, “Well you know that nephew of mine, Willy?”
I nodded.
“Thought it was him. He’s never been real honest. Given his folks nothing but worries. I tore a strip offa Willy but he swore up and down it wasn’t him. Last week I knew it couldn’t have been Willy. A little wooden box went missing.” Her hands squared the small shape of the box. “He hasn’t been by since I went after him.” She shook her head and said, “No, it isn’t Willy.”
“Who else is in the house?”
“Just the nurse regular like.”
“Well there you go. It must be her.”
Bitty sighed. “Seems like it but why would an educated lady steal? What would she want with that stuff? I just don’t know what to do, Lovey.”
“Go to the police. Let them sort it out.”
Bitty looked uncomfortable. Police weren’t the first line of defense in the world Bitty and I come from. Back at the Shoreline Trailer Park you tried real hard to stay away from them. “Who they gonna to believe, a nurse or me?”
“Okay, make a list of everything that’s missing. We’ll start there.”
Her eyes lit up as though I’d actually solved her problem. In truth, I had no idea how to help her.
“Is there a lawn service?”
“Course.”
“Put down the dates you noticed things were missing. We’ll see if they are the same days the grass gets cut.”
“But they’re never in the house. I take
a jug of lemonade and a jug of ice tea out to them.” I knew she would. That was Bitty. “Could one of them be slipping into the house while you’re occupied outside?”
“Don’t see how and Miss Jane would scream real loud if she saw a man in her house.”
“When does the nurse come in?”
“Ten ’til noon.”
The next day I was outside the elegant old house on Washington Street at a quarter to twelve. Around it, houses of the same age had been knocked down and replaced by monster homes, the disease of south Florida, but number fourteen still had all the Spanish charm of the nineteen twenties. The over-sized lot was dotted with mature jacaranda trees, which spread a beautiful dappled light over the neatly clipped lawn.
At five minutes to twelve a tall thin woman, dressed in a tailored navy suit, came out of the house. She looked more like my idea of an investment banker than a nurse but she carried a big canvas bag instead of a briefcase.
I called Bitty on my cell. “Did the nurse just leave?”
“Yes.”
“What was she wearing?”
Bitty laughed. “She was dressed to do business. A blue suit. She takes off the jacket and puts on a smock when she’s here.”
I followed the suit feeling silly. What did I think I was doing playing detective? I was in debt up my ying yang and eating had become a habit I couldn’t break so I couldn’t afford to miss my shift at the Sunset Bar and Grill, even thought the tips were barely keeping me alive now that the snowbirds had flown north for the season.
The nurse drove to a deli. It was ninety degrees already and my air conditioning wasn’t working. After fifteen minutes of waiting in the furnace of my car I fled to a card shop, hovering near the front window and watching the deli.
When the nurse came out again I followed her to an estate out on Beach Road and watched her go into a pink stucco mansion. Hoping she’d be staying there for awhile, I drove to the address Bitty had given me; a sub-division built in the late forties with narrow lots and two-bedroom houses.
The nurse’s house looked abandoned. A crumbling concrete path led to a tilting front stoop and a faded blue door. I knocked loudly, praying no one would answer, waited awhile and then banged even harder. No one came to tell me to get stuffed so I cupped my hands and tried to peek through the diamond shaped window of the door. My reward was the sight of a blank wall in mustard yellow.
A screen door banged to my left. I jumped back from the door. My heart was pounding as if I’d been caught doing what I was only considering.
A man in his sixties, naked but for wrinkled cotton shorts slung low beneath his belly, stood on the porch with his hands on his hips. The white hair covering his chest was as thick as a Brillo pad while his head was smooth and shiny. “She ain’t home.”
“Oh.”
“You the niece?”
“Yup.” I smiled widely, trying to look honest.
“You’re early.”
I nodded.
He waved a hand. “Come on over here. I got it.”
I almost blurted out, “got what?” but fortunately he’d already gone back inside, letting the door slam behind him, before my mouth gave me away.
The burnt grass crunched under my feet. I looked around uneasily and then climbed the steps to the pale green house.
The door opened and the man came out carrying a cardboard box which said it contained baked beans.
“How’s your Dad?” he asked, still holding the box.
“Good.”
His eyes widened in surprise.
“He’s doing better,” I amended.
His brow smoothed out. “That’s good. Hell of a thing to happen.”
I nodded in agreement.
“So you’re taking over the flea market stall?”
“Yup.” I held my hands out for the box.
“I don’t know where your aunt finds all this stuff.” He transferred the box to my arms. “Junk mostly. Surprising what people will buy, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.” I started down the steps with my prize. “Thank you,” I called over my shoulder and walked quickly to my car without looking back.
I unpacked the box carefully, spreading the contents over my kitchen table. There was a small jade green vase, a rosewood colored box and various knick knacks, including a flamingo salt and pepper shaker. At the bottom was a large heavy object rapped in several layers of newspaper. I sat it on the table and stripped away the paper. A glass vase with female nudes dancing around the outside appeared from the wrappings. Bitty’s naked ladies.
On-line it didn’t take me long to identify the vase. It wasn’t La Lake but a rare Lalique and it was worth about seventy-five thousand dollars.
Visions of sugarplums danced in my head. I was rich. No more paying the minimum on my credit cards each month while my pain grew. Best of all, no more twelve-year old crapped out Firebird with no air-conditioning.
Greed led me into temptation and delivered me to evil. “No one will find out,” it assured me, the kicker, the thing that made it so perfect. The nurse couldn’t tell anyone and for sure Miss Jane was never going to miss the vase. Her train had already left the station. And Bitty, well Bitty would think it was all in her head.
The porch light came on. Through the glass door I watched Bitty shuffling towards me, her bloated ankles flowing over her lace-less runners and her white hair forming a halo around a face that lit with joy when she saw me. No one on earth was ever as glad to see me as Bitty and no one on earth had ever loved me as much.
“Why, honey, what are you doing here this time of night?” she said as the screen door swung open.
I held up the box that once contained baked beans and said, “I found your naked ladies.”
Phyllis Smallman, Bitty and the Naked Ladies
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