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As soon as the Purple People Eater pulled up to the curb on City Park road, my good friend Jill Jensen jumped from her baby blue van and pounced with a big bear hug. "Oh, Boo, how awful for last night. Although, if you don't mind me saying, I am glad it was anyone but me."
I laughed, "Oh, but you didn't see me making a fool of myself. And in front of Corbin's new boss. So, tell me, what story did you hear?"
"One? I have heard at least four!" she teased. "Please tell me the real story."
By the time I finished my condensed tale of woe, including the damage to Chief Flint shoes, she was laughing so hard her eyes were tearing up.
"I am so sorry," she said between giggles. "I know it is not funny, but I could just picture you tumbling in. And then the look on the Chief's face. That had to be priceless."
"Laugh all you want, but you still have your van, purse, and phone, and you are not the number one person of interest," I replied.
She stopped laughing. "Well, that explains why you haven't been returning my phone calls. But you are kidding me about being a suspect, right? You have got to be kidding! Either that or the Chief is nuts."
"Well, I am the one who found the body, much to my family's chagrin," I shrugged. "Has the Chief spoken to you yet?"
"No, not yet. Well, I haven't been available much today, with driving Katie to school, then work at the store, shopping for groceries and now Katie from the school to this." Jill's daughter Katie also played in the Jazz band with the boys. "When he does come to talk to me, I will certainly give him a piece of my mind on that subject. There is no way you could have hurt Harvey. You seem to be one of the few who really liked him."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, with this event on everyone's lips, I have heard three different type of responses. Some are sad, and some are more relieved than sad." Jill paused. "I am not saying any of these people would have hurt Harvey, but they are glad they don't have to see him walking around anymore."
This was news to me, but then I tried to stay out of the rumor mill. "And the third group?"
"Well, a few seemed very quiet when they heard the story. You know, the usually talkative people being uncharacteristically hush."
Before I could ask more, the children came running with their instruments. Chit-chat time was over, it was time for both of us to go back to our errand lists.
"See you at the meeting tomorrow." Jill gave me a quick hug before rushing off to her car. "But call if you need anything."
"Thanks, friend." I waved, as she drove away first, allowing more space for that big van to pull into traffic. My next stop was to pick up the girls at the Pit Stop.
The kitchen area was a scene of domestic bliss. Martin, Emily and Audrey were working side by side measuring, mixing and rolling dough for tomorrow's Chicken Dumpling soup special.
"Oh, good, you are back," called Martin, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows in attempt to keep them clean. Today his plan wasn't working, but boy, was he cute when he was covered in flour. That attraction was how we ended up with five children.
I smiled, wiping some flour off his cheek. "Oh, did I forget something?"
"No. Just happy to see you returned safe from the lion's den," he said, leaning in for a kiss. "Orange is so not your color."
"Martin!" I scooped a handful of flour and threatened to blow it on him.
Laughing, he quickly spun me around so the flour was aimed at the wall, kissed my cheek, and asked, "So, how did it really go?"
Snuggled in his arms, my temper melted. "Just fine. We reviewed my statement, added a few details I remembered today, and that was that."
"You don't have to worry, Dad. Mom told the chief to leave her alone. `I have no motive'," Travis mimicked my voice. "We heard that down the hall in the garage."
Hunter said, "We even helped Corbin with trash duties."
"And we saw pictures of the dead body," Skylar added.
I twisted around in Martin's arms and gave him a big kiss. "See, no worries."
"Well, in that case," he added, over a chorus of “ewww" from our children, "I do have a job for you. Paula from Harvest House called. She has also been over blessed with food baskets and was hoping we could help her."
I sighed, "Did you tell her we already have plenty of food from the well-wishers?"
"Yes, but she wasn't really offering to share. She wants the food, but she doesn't have the room to store it." He turned me back around to face the kids. "I think we can make the room in our freezer, and we have the workforce to make it happen."
"That explains the old boxes of plastic ware I see on the counter," I said.
"I thought we could divide the larger casseroles into smaller servings, and bring it back here for storage," he suggested.
"Hmm, and after we do all this, we can return part of the food every week, and they end up with almost new meals every day," I said.
"You read my mind," he said. "Oh, and she hopes to share with Hilltop House, too."
Harvest House, where Harvey lived, was a resident home for men with mental disabilities. Hilltop House was the women's equivalent. Each housed about six to eight people.
"That much food! Sounds like I will need an army of help. How many can you spare?" I asked, looking at the mess, wondering who I should put to work before I strangle my beloved children.
Domestic bliss had evaporated. Travis was threatening Emily with a handful of flour over her head, while Skylar and Hunter were trying to steal Audrey's dough. If Martin and I didn't organize them soon, there would either be a revolt, or a food fight.
"You can take them all. Molly will be here soon. She can help me finish and clean up." Martin declared.
Molly Mackan, a high school senior, worked for Martin three afternoons a week and on Saturdays. We all helped at the shop a few hours a week, as necessity dictated, but even for a family business, under-aged children were limited by the number of hours and types of work.
I clapped for attention, "Okay, you heard your father. Girls, wash up. Boys, move our groceries into the fridge here to keep the milk cold and load up the plastic ware. We have a job to do."
Due to the size of our town, nothing is more than fifteen minutes away. In half that time I pulled up behind Harvest House and we knocked on the kitchen door. Johnny Nettles, another Harvest House resident answered the door as if he was just waiting for a knock.
"Come in, Come in, Mrs. Bailey. Miss Paula told me to let you in. She said you would be helping in the kitchen. She said people keep bringing food because Harvey died. But, why? He doesn't need food if he died." Normally solid and confident, Johnny unabashedly collapsed into tears and hugged me tight. "Why did Harvey have to go? He was my friend. Why did he have to leave me?"
"Johnny, I know you are sad." I tried to calm him with words he would understand. "Now is the time to remember going to church with Harvey every week. You know Harvey is now with Jesus, and that is a very happy place to be."
"But I miss him. He was my friend." Johnny sniffled.
"We all miss him, Johnny, and it is alright to be sad, for a little while. But I don't think Harvey would want to stay sad. You have friends like Miss Paula and the other men here." I said, untangling myself from him arms. "Now why don't you take Emily's hand and sit at the table. Skylar, can you fetch Johnny a glass of milk, please? Hunter, find a plate and some cookies. I think we could all use a snack."
The noise of cabinet doors opening in the kitchen was like a beacon to the other men who lived here. Ian Stewart, the youngest of the men, arrived shortly followed by Brian Kress, Matthew Inness, Kevin Preavy and Scott Applestone. Each accepted a plate and glass quietly before heading to their own seat.
Wondering where her men had disappeared to, Paula Newman, retired high school teacher turned house-mother, walked in with arms full of more gifted food.
"I hope the snack is alright with your schedule." I said, accepting the casserole to place with the others. "They just seemed to need a pick-me-up."
"Oh, bless you, Rainbow, and thank you for coming. Our schedule is non-existent today. My boys didn't go to work today due to the incident. And, as you can see," Paula waved her hand at the counter top, "we have had many, many house-calls. No rest for the weary at heart it seems."
She gave Johnny a pat on the back. "Johnny here has been my right-hand man, answering the door if he recognizes the visitor. The others, well, being social is not their strong suit, and while some of our visitors truly care, many just want to gossip."
"Well, we are here to work." I said. "Why don't you pick what you want for dinner, and then sit down to rest with the men. If the doorbell rings, we will take care of it. You can count on the Bailey crew to get this kitchen sorted."
"Umm, just pick something simple for tonight. Thank you so much for this. I really could use a good sit." Paula slumped into a chair. Emily quickly delivered an extra plate of cookies.
"Oh, you are such a sweet-heart," declared Paula.
"Thank you," replied Emily.
"You are all just wonderful to help us today," Paula proclaimed. "I hope we are not too much trouble."
"Not at all. Happy to help," I said, nodding to the children to begin. "We will set aside the chicken casserole and fresh Cobb salad for tonight. Now you sit and we will take care of this in no time."
It wasn't hard to organize my children. They were used to helping at the Pit Stop and church potlucks. Audrey and Emily, with the best handwriting, were placed in charge of labeling and noting the donations. Starting at one end of the kitchen, they wrote down the type of food, the type of container, and who brought it. I planned on asking Aunt Irene to print up some thank you notes for Paula to sign later in the week. They also recorded any special ingredients, in case of allergies, on the freezer labels.
Travis set out containers in front of the twins who divided the food into manageable portions. He also washed the dishes. I put the food in the freezer or the van for transport to the Pit Stop, in between playing butler. To the phone callers, I politely but firmly asked them to call back in the next few days as the residents needed some rest. I said the same to the two people at the door after collecting their donated food items.
Even though this house was overflowing with food already, I accepted every item offered. To refuse any would be an insult, and in this small community, that was trouble in the making. Paula had enough trouble now with Harvey's suspicious death.
In just under thirty minutes, we had the clutter vanquished and counters wiped clean. My children were rewarded with cookies of their own and Johnny even treated them to some of his private soda-pop stash.
One more chime announced the arrival of Chief Flint, as surprised to see me open the door as I was to see him, with the youngest officer Eric Perdale. "You sure get around, Mrs. Bailey. I didn't see Harvest House on your schedule for today."
"Just neighbors helping neighbors. We were asked to help in the kitchen, as their kitchen overflowed with blessings." I explained, as I led the way. "Would you like to join our little cookie party?"
He raised his eyebrow at me, so I amended my statement. "Party may have been too strong of a word." I added quietly, "The men were at wits-end anxious so we all sat down for a snack. Please, join us."
He shook his head, getting straight to business. "We are just here to ask questions."
He followed me into the dining room as I made the introductions. None of the men would look at the Chief, though a few smiled at Officer Perdale. Kevin rocked in his chair, Matthew and Brian pulled their hair, while Ian and Scott stared at the floor. Johnny cleaned off the opposite side of the table, scrubbing at an invisible spot.
Not good. The new chief needed to learn more about Harvey to solve the murder. If only Johnny, the newly appointed leader of the group, would open up. Then the others would give the chief a chance.
As I finished introductions, Paula added, "Boys, Chief Flint would like to be a friend, to us and to Harvey."
Audrey, who understood the social aspects of food as well as her father, accepted the dirty plates for washing and then handed Johnny a new plate with cookies. Coaching Johnny, she said, "Chief Flint only wants to find who hurt Harvey, and he needs your help to do that, Johnny. You can help him."
Johnny shuffled toward the Chief without looking at him. Placing it on the table in front of the guests, Johnny stuttered, "Wo.. wo.. would, you like sssssome of Har.. Har.. Harvey's coo.. cookies?"
"Those were Harvey's favorite kind," Paula added.
For a few moments the Chief continued to stand. Realizing that everyone in the room was waiting for him, he slowly pulled out a chair and sat down. "Yes, thank you. I would love to try Harvey's favorite cookies."
After his first bite, he paused and added, "Would you like to know something, Johnny? Double chocolate chip is my favorite, too."
As Chief took another bite, Johnny smiled and one by one all the men reached for another cookie. Officer Eric pulled up a chair to join them, with notebook in one hand and a cookie in the other. With the ice broken, I decided it was time for us to leave.
As my boys were securing the food in the back of the van and the girls sweeping and mopping the floor, Paula asked for one more favor.
"Rainbow, could you help with one last chore? I haven't had the heart to go to Harvey's room since we learned of his death last night. But Flandan's Funeral Home was asking for some clothes for his burial. Would you help me?"
"Of course." I was not about to leave her in the lurch. "Do you think you are up to it now?"
"Yes, please, while the boys are busy downstairs. I thought of asking Johnny, but you know the boys just don't handle tragedies like this well. He has been a real blessing today, but, well, I think it would be too much for him, where as I have been through this before."
"I remember," I said, thinking back over eighteen years when Paula's husband died shortly after her retirement from teaching high school. His funeral was the day before Martin and I married in the same church.
My girls joined us for the trek upstairs, giving the chief more privacy for his questions in the kitchen, while the boys waited in the living room. Paula had the master bedroom on the main floor, but each of the boys had their own small bedroom upstairs. Harvey's room, the largest because he had lived there the longest, was at the end of the hallway, with a window facing the street.
"Harvey didn't always keep the neatest room, but he did clean it when asked." Paula rambled on as we walked. "And he always put his dirty laundry down the bathroom chute in time for laundry day."
We stopped at his closed door. Paula took a deep breath as she turned the knob.
Based on her description, I expected to see a room like a typical teenager, with bed sheets a mess, socks and shoes scattered, and maybe a dirty dish or two. What we found was much, much worse.
The mattress was half off the bed, pillow shredded, and drawers dumped. His closet had been emptied, with the contents everywhere.
Paula gasped so sharply, I reached out to steady her. "I take it Harvey was usually cleaner that this?"
"Yes. No. I mean I check it every month, but I have never seen it like this," Paula said.
"Do you think any of the other men could have done this?"
"Absolutely not! They have a healthy respect for each other's personal belongings. I make sure of that. And Harvey was like a big brother to them, always caring for them. They would never do this to his room." She beckoned to the mess. "Besides, he usually kept it locked, which is why I brought my keys."
"Audrey, Emily, stay here with Paula. I think we need to get the Chief in on this." I announced.