Taking Out the Trash. Tristi Inc. Pinkston
his throat before continuing. “It seems something unusual was found in your garbage this morning.”
Estelle took a deep breath. “I know, and I’m sorry. I thought that would be the best way to dispose of…” She glanced over at Vera. She didn’t want to make the confession in front of her friend, but she had no choice. “The body.”
Vera blinked wildly, obviously confused.
The other officer, bearing the unfortunate last name of Gruff, leaned forward. “You knew?”
Estelle nodded. “I did know. My husband put the body in the bin this morning before he left.”
Officer Anderson pulled out his notebook. “Where is your husband right now?”
“At work.”
“And where is that?”
Estelle gave the location of Sam’s branch of the Jackson-Hewitt tax preparation service, then added, “He might be too busy to speak with you today, though. It’s almost April 15th.”
“Ma’am, he’ll have to speak with us. We’re talking about murder.”
“Murder?” Vera turned to Estelle. “What’s going on here?”
“Murder?” Estelle came to her feet. “It wasn’t murder! It came waltzing into my kitchen, just as bold and brazen as you please. My husband was just protecting me, that’s all.”
“He entered your house?”
“He, she—I didn’t check.”
Officer Anderson raised an eyebrow. “Ma’am, do you mean to say that the man in question came into your kitchen, and your husband took measures to protect you?”
“Man?” Estelle looked back and forth between the policemen. “I’m talking about a mouse! A mouse came in my kitchen, and my husband smacked it with a broom and put the body in the garbage. What are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry to say, another body was found in your garbage bin, Mrs. Watkins. A real body.” Officer Anderson cleared his throat again. “A human body.”
Vera gasped.
“In my garbage?” Estelle found herself strangely faint.
“In your garbage.”
Estelle sank back into her chair. “All Sam did was kill a mouse,” she whispered. She blinked a few times, trying to understand. “Are you sure?”
“We’re sure, ma’am.”
“How do you know it was in Estelle’s garbage?” Vera asked. “There are tons of houses on this street.”
“The driver was looking in his rearview mirror as he operated the mechanical arm, and he noticed something large fall out of your trash. He stopped to investigate, and then drove straight down to the precinct.”
“So he saw…it…fall from my garbage,” Estelle said. She closed her eyes, trying not to imagine what the poor driver must have seen.
“Yes, ma’am. So there was no question it came from this location.”
“But I don’t understand. Wouldn’t Sam have seen the body in the bin when he put the mouse in there?”
“That’s why we need to talk with your husband,” Officer Gruff said.
“Will you be home the rest of the day?” Anderson asked.
“Well, I did need to run to the store…”
“We’d like you to delay your trip. We have a lot of questions to ask you, Mrs. Watkins, after we’ve spoken with your husband.”
“All right,” Estelle said. She supposed she could make do without the fresh mozzarella for her lasagna. Sam wouldn’t mind.
“I can run to the store for you,” Vera offered, and Estelle nodded. That was probably the best idea—she needed milk, as well as cheese. Sam enjoyed a warm glass of milk before bed, and she had used the last of it on her cereal that morning.
But what was she saying? Sam was going to be questioned by the police. What if they arrested him? What if he wouldn’t be home to eat lasagna, or have his warm glass of milk? She pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling the relentless pounding of her pulse.
“We’ll be in touch,” Officer Gruff said as the two moved toward the door. He paused to take Vera’s information as well, just in case she’d seen or heard anything. She said she hadn’t, but Estelle had to wonder at that. Vera had quite the reputation in their neighborhood for knowing everything. She was the Mrs. Kravatz of Ruebensville.
Vera closed the door behind the police. Estelle knew she should have seen them out—her genteel upbringing demanded it—but she couldn’t get her knees to work. She remained seated, myriad thoughts racing through her head. She couldn’t make sense of any of them.
“Estelle, are you all right?”
She nodded as Vera took a seat next to her. “I was just so upset this morning. There I was, eating my Grape-Nuts, and this mouse came running through the kitchen. I was mortified! I keep a clean house, Vera, you know that.”
“I know you do, but that has nothing to do with it. Anyone can have mice.”
“Not me!”
Vera patted her hand. “Go on. What happened then?”
“Well, I screamed, and Sam ran in. He grabbed the broom, did away with the…creature…and took the body outside.”
“And he didn’t say he’d seen anything strange in the bin?”
“He didn’t say anything at all, just that we never needed to mention it. He knew how embarrassed I’d be if anyone found out I’d had a mouse in the kitchen.” She shuddered. “How long do you think we’ll be able to keep a…a murder quiet?”
“Not long at all. I’m sure everyone saw that police car in front of the house.” Vera stood up and moved to the window, lifting back the lace sheer. “And here comes Mabel now. Is that broom still handy?”
Episode 2
Vera may be Ruebensville’s answer to Mrs. Kravatz, but Mabel had always reminded Estelle of the mayor’s wife in The Music Man—the Robert Preston version. She didn’t have anything against Matthew Broderick—he was a nice enough young person—but he just wasn’t her idea of Professor Harold Hill.
Mabel moved her officious bulk into Estelle’s living room and lowered herself onto the sofa, crossing her ankles demurely. As the president—and in fact, the founder—of the All Denomination Ladies’ Aid Association, she took herself, her committee, and everyone else far too seriously. At least, that’s what Estelle thought privately and Vera expressed vocally. And often loudly.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Mabel said.
Estelle thought for a minute. She hadn’t even known Mabel was coming—when had she agreed to this meeting? No matter—it was happening, so might as well be gracious about it.
“I appreciate your help,” Mabel went on. “Now, I’ve already contacted the various different congregations with their assignments, and I made them easy to remember. The Christians are bringing the cotton. Get it? They both start with ‘c’?”
Vera coughed into her hand while Estelle nodded politely.
“So the Christians are bringing the cotton, the Baptists are bringing the batting, the Mormons are bringing the munchies, and the Episcopalians are bringing the yarn.”
Estelle blinked. She had been somewhat enjoying Mabel’s alliteration—what happened?
Mabel