Enid on the Case

         That Thursday morning, Enid was running late. Enid hated running late, but today she had a headache and the weather was foul – it was impossible to get a cab and she ended up having to walk through puddles, dodging careless umbrellas and ill-timed bicycle wheels until she managed to slog through the door of the tea room where she met her circle every Thursday for lunch.

         The hostess turned away as Enid passed by and she didn’t blame her. Enid was surprised to not find herself being escorted out – sodden drippy mess that she was.

         Three of her friends were seated at their usual table in the corner – one was missing. Enid looked at the faces – haughty Sibyl was languidly stirring her tea and looking around the room with a bored expression. Enid waved to her, but Sibyl looked past her with a deep sigh. Looking for someone more interesting than Enid. Sibyl usually sat beside Lana, who was not at the table. Perhaps she was also running late. Bethany and Peggy were deep in talk, and Peggy looked up to give Enid a smile as she slid into the vacant chair between Bethany and Sibyl.

         “Sorry I’m late, girls,” she said breathlessly, “What are we talking about?”  She leaned in close, waiting to hear the latest gossip.

         “Well of course the police were called,” Bethany said, continuing whatever story she’d been telling before Enid arrived.

         “And she was already dead?” Peggy asked.

         Sibyl turned back to the table, her lips quivering as she looked at the other three women. Enid could see she was working up to something. Sibyl was famous for her hysterias that could be summoned on cue.

         “Oh it’s just terrible… she was my dearest…” Sibyl covered her face with a napkin, leaking out theatrical sobs that Enid suspected didn’t have any tears to accompany them.

         “Yes, Sibyl, we’re all broken up by it,” Peggy said, shaking her head at Enid with a wry smile.

         Lana. Something bad must have happened to Lana.

         “What happened to Lana?” Enid asked.

         “And to be… m-m-m-murdered… in her husband’s study…” Sibyl was really selling the act now.

         Enid was intrigued. “Lana was murdered?” she echoed. “Do they know who did it?” she added.

         “The police have no suspects,” Bethany piped up, eliciting another round of sobs from Sibyl.

         “Ladies,” the waiter said, approaching the table. “Will there be anything else?’

         “Oh no, we’re too upset to eat a thing, please just the bill.” Sibyl spoke for the table, even though Enid was hungry and hadn’t had the chance to order. It was just Sibyl’s way. Enid sighed in resignation. She would get something to eat at home and then she would solve the mystery of Lana’s murder.

         She’d always fancied herself a bit of an amateur detective, like her fictional heroes Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot. She was terribly good at solving little domestic incidents, but she’d long hungered for the opportunity to try her sleuthing skills on a real case. Yes, it was terrible about poor Lana of course, but at least the poor darling could rest easy knowing that Enid would soon identify the culprit.

         Peggy hung back a bit as they left the restaurant, walking beside Enid. Ahead of them, Bethany was struggling to support a sobbing Sibyl as they made their way to the front foyer of the restaurant. 

         “Are you feeling okay, Enid?” Peggy asked her. “You were quite late arriving.”

         “Yes, of course. Just a bit of a headache but no doubt it’s due to the rain. I’ve always been sensitive to the slightest weather changes you know,” Enid explained.

         “No doubt it’s the weather,” Peggy agreed in a curiously cautious tone.

         Sibyl turned to ask through her choking sobs if they would like a ride home in her car. 

         “No, I think we’ll be okay, Sibyl,” Peggy answered.

         Sibyl gave Peggy an odd look, then an unsteady nod and she was clambering into her car, being supported by her driver and by Bethany.

         “She’s really taking Lana’s death hard,” Enid observed. 

         “She is part of our circle, Enid,” Peggy reminded her.

         “Yes. Which is why I’m going to find out who killed Lana.”

         “You are?”

         “Yes. You know what a brilliant sleuth I am, Pegs. I owe it to her. Now. What do we know about her death?”

         “You don’t remember…?” Peggy’s voice trailed off as she asked the question, like she was trying to think of something important.

         “No, I was late getting here. I missed hearing a lot of it.” Enid felt impatient and she wished she had a notepad and a pen with her to take notes. She was going to have to rely on her exceptional memory.

         “Right. Well… you… Lana’s husband. Her husband. Yes. He found her last night. He’d gone out for a quick round of golf.”

         Enid frowned. “I never knew Don golfed.” Her husband Richard was an avid golfer. Surely, he would have mentioned seeing Don on the links.

         “Maybe he’s taken it up. Well. He found her dead in his study. Someone had hit her over the head. They thought maybe she stopped a robbery but there were no signs of forced entry. They think she knew her killer.”

         Enid nodded. “Was anything stolen?”

         “Just her bracelet.”

         Enid knew exactly what bracelet Peggy meant. Each of the women in their group had an identical gold bracelet, purchased by their husbands on a Las Vegas trip they’d taken as a group many years ago. Enid wore hers every day. Except this morning. She looked down at her bare wrist. She’d forgotten to put it on this morning.  She’d been in such a rush. She’d have to put it on as soon as she got home. 

         Peggy saw Enid look down at her wrist. “Did you forget yours?” she asked.

         Enid nodded. “The clasp on it was broken. Richard had it fixed but it still is a bit fiddly.”

         “Sibyl wasn’t wearing hers either,” Peggy pointed out. “Did you notice?”

         “I didn’t.” But something about that was niggling at Enid. Something important. 

         “Say, Enid, you know how I say I sometimes see things… things that nobody else does…” Peggy’s sentence came out in a rush.

         “Yes, Peggy.”  Enid was humouring her. She didn’t believe in ghosts or any of that nonsense.

         “So, I was thinking you…”

         “Do you want to come investigate the crime scene with me?” Enid interrupted. The idea did have some merit. Ghosts and the like were pure fantasy, but it would be handy to have someone else present to witness her brilliant handling of the case.

         “Yes. Yes, let’s go to Lana’s.” Peggy seemed relieved that Enid had accepted her eccentric offer.

         “I couldn’t get a cab over,” Enid said. “We still might not be able to get one. Stupid nasty weather.”

         “I have my car.”

         Peggy drove them over to Lana’s house. 

         “That’s odd.” Enid observed the empty driveway. “You’d think the police would still be here investigating.”

         “Yes, you would think that,” Peggy agreed. She stopped the car. “Shall we go in?”

         Enid and Peggy went to the front door. Enid was glad it had finally stopped raining during the drive out to Lana’s country home, although it was still overcast and cloudy. Her head was still throbbing.

         Peggy knocked on the door. Lana’s housekeeper opened the door, staring blankly at them.

         “Yes?” She directed her question to Peggy. Very rude of her, Enid thought.

         “Don asked me to come by and… water the plants in his office.” Peggy lied easily. Enid nodded her approval. Peggy definitely had the makings of a first-class investigator.

         The housekeeper nodded and stepped back to let them in. She was sombre, as one would expect having had her employer murdered recently.

         “The study is very clean,” Enid noted as they went in. “I don’t see any signs of a struggle.” She scuffed her shoe over the nap of the carpet. “No stains on the carpet either. Either the police really cleaned it up or she has a very good housekeeper.” Enid paused. “Do you think it would be in poor taste if Richard and I offered her a position?” she asked Peggy. “She really did a very good job here.”

         “I don’t think she’s going to be looking for a job anytime soon,” Peggy remarked.

         “It’s very odd that Lana was home at all,” Enid said, “Don’t she and Don usually go to Florida for January?”

         “Yes, they do,” Peggy confirmed.

         “Then that’s another odd thing to consider, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Peggy agreed.  “Have you seen enough here?”

         “Yes.” Enid was a little bit disappointed in the lack of bloodshed, of crime tape, of discarded latex gloves and dustings of fingerprint powder. It was nothing like the true crime shows she saw on television.

         “Can I give you a ride somewhere?” Peggy asked.

         “Home I suppose,” Enid said, “I’m sure Richard will be worrying about me in light of the news about poor Lana.” She sighed. “Who do you think did it?” she asked. “Someone we know?”

         “I wish I knew,” Peggy answered. 

         Peggy drove Enid home. “The visitation is tomorrow,” she said to Enid. 

         “I’ll be there,” Enid assured her.

         “I’m sure you will.”

         There was a police car at their house. “I wonder if they want to talk to me.” Enid hurried to get out of the car, giving Peggy a careless wave intended to shoo her along. Enid wanted to do this alone.

         The police officer was leaving as she came up the walk. “Good night,” he was saying to Richard, “Please call me if you think of anything.”

         “Oh officer, officer,” Enid said breathlessly, “I’m Enid, I was a friend of poor Lana’s. I have things I need to tell you.”

         “I’ll expect you at the station tomorrow after the visitation.” The officer gave an abrupt nod and then he was getting into his car.

         Enid followed Richard into the house. He sat down in his easy chair, his hands dangling loosely between his parted legs, his head down as his shoulder slumped. “Oh Enid, Enid…” he sighed.

         “I know Richard, it’s terrible. But we weren’t really close to Lana and Richard. She was far closer to Sibyl. Sibyl is absolutely devastated.”

         “Why?” His voice was muffled as he kept looking down. “Why… why…”

         “They’ve always been closest. They went on that trip on the Mexican Riveria three weeks ago. Sibyl had some kind of silly flirtation with a local… remember I told you about it… she gave her gold bracelet to him and he sold it…”

         Enid was losing herself in thought. If only her head didn’t hurt so much. She was sure she was almost ready to solve this heinous crime. “She gave her bracelet to this man…”

         “Oh, Enid…” Richard sighed heavily.

         “I know, you’re always telling me to mind my own business Richard. But this time I think I’m on to something… Sibyl gave her bracelet to this man… Sibyl likes to flirt with men. You know that. You said that many times.”

         Richard gave another deep sigh. 

         “Her husband Andre said if she was caught in another situation, he was going to divorce her. She couldn’t afford another divorce. He had her sign that pre-nup. If she gets caught cheating, she doesn’t get a dime. And think how dreadful a third divorce would look for her!”

         “Bed,” Richard mumbled, “I have to go to bed. Long day tomorrow. Horrible day.”

         “Yes. It’s going to be a horrible day.  You go to bed, love.  I’m going to stay up awhile and think. I might sleep in the spare room. My head is so sore.”

         Without another word Richard trudged up the stairs to the bedroom, moving slowly like a sleepwalker caught in a horrible dream.

         Enid settled in her favourite lounge chair, her mind whirling. Lana’s death had something to do with her bracelet and the bracelet had something to do with Sibyl and her vacation fling.  She closed her eyes, willing her headache to go away and the solution to come in its’ place.

         The front room was filled with sunlight when she woke up to the sound of the front door closing as Richard left. 

         “The visitation!” She was relieved to discover her head didn’t hurt any more and she now had a clear idea of what had happened to poor Lana. 

She was going to go to the visitation and confront the snake that had murdered Lana – just like in the movies.

         Peggy’s car was idling at the curb as she hurried out of the house.

         “How did you know I’d need a ride?” she asked her friend. “Richard left without me. This whole thing just has him rattled beyond belief, poor man.”

         “I get feelings, I told you that.”

         Psychic or not, she was glad Peggy had thought to come get her. 

         The parking lot was overflowing when they arrived, but Peggy had a spot in the ‘family’ section, along with the rest of Lana’s friends.

         “I don’t see Don’s car here,” Enid said. It was odd that he wouldn’t attend his own wife’s visitation. “Maybe he came with someone else,” she guessed.

         “Maybe.” Peggy pointed to a new Lexus sitting arrogantly to the side. “But it looks like Andre came home from his business trip as expected.”

         “Good.” He needed to know what Sibyl had done. They all needed to know what Sibyl had done.

         The viewing room was packed with people. At the far end was the burnished coffin, surrounded by heaps and sprays of flowers.

         “Look at those gorgeous flowers and all these visitors,” Enid said softly to Peggy. “I hope I’m remembered even half as well when it’s my turn.”

         Peggy just nodded and gestured to the casket. “Should we go pay our respects?” she asked.

         Enid wasn’t ready to deal with that horrible reality yet. “No,” she said, “No, not yet. I have something I have to do first.” She made her way though the crowd, Peggy trailing after her.

         She found Sibyl crying ostentatiously, hanging on Andre’s arm while Bethany tried to console her by patting her back. She sobbed out a greeting as Enid and Peggy approached.

         “Don’t give me that,” Enid said harshly, affecting a hard-boiled worldly demeanor. “You know what you did Sibyl. Everyone’s going to know what you did.”

         Sibyl turned her back to Enid, reaching out her arms to Richard who had just arrived, accompanied by a tired looking man in a rumpled suit. 

         “That’s a detective,” Enid said knowingly. “He’ll sort this whole thing out.”

         Sibyl flung her arms around Richard in a grieving hug and the bracelet on her wrist went flying, tumbling to the floor where it lay open, a broken accusing circle. Sibyl tried to retrieve it, but Richard was faster.

         “That’s not her bracelet, Richard,” Enid said helpfully.

         “That’s not your bracelet,” Richard echoed, looking down at the bracelet in his hand.         

         “Enid, let’s go pay our respects,” Peggy interrupted.

         “Don’t be silly of course it’s my –”

         “Darlings, sorry we’re late…” Lana flung the door to the room open, making an entrance, “But the ride from the airport was…” She was obviously about to say ‘murder’, so she amended it quickly to a less emotionally charged word. “… hard. The ride back was hard…”

         “Lana is… but then who…” Enid turned to gesture at the coffin, looking helplessly at Peggy.

         “It’s time to pay our respects.” Peggy was gentle but firm. She led Enid to the coffin. “Go ahead,” she urged. “Look.”

         Enid could hear some kind of scuffle going on behind her, the drone of a man’s voice riding over Sybil’s wails of protest, but suddenly she wasn’t interested in any of it. She was interested in what was in the coffin.

         Looking down into the peaceful face in the coffin, Enid felt an answering peace blossoming deep inside. It wasn’t Lana’s murder she’d just helped solve.

         It was her own.