Vintage Whispers (A Cozy Retirement Mystery Book 1) by Riley Blake Page A

if in fact a mystery existed. Perhaps Oscar’s wife and the authorities knew the location of Oscar’s final resting place. 
    “Oh no, not at all.” Pearl beamed. “I know when to keep a secret.” She started crawling up the ladder again. “You girls know me. I can be very tight-lipped.”
    “When?” Opal asked.
    “Very funny,” Pearl muttered.
    “So you told him we were unpacking boxes?” Mary Louise asked.
    “Yes.” Pearl paused and glanced over her shoulder. “But I gotta tell you, it wasn’t easy keeping quiet about this. Clarence still gets all choked up about his wife’s passing.”
    “Samantha was a good woman,” Mary Louise said, recalling how she used to bring them chicken salad sandwiches in a picnic basket. “She’ll be missed.”
    Opal looked perplexed. “I still don’t recall seeing Clarence on that particular day.”
    “It’s been a while.”
    “But I would’ve remembered a grieving widower,” Opal said. “A man doesn’t typically go to his wife’s favorite store right after she passes. He should’ve been planning her funeral.”
    Pearl disappeared over the top of the ladder. A few moments later, the floorboards creaked as she made her way to the back of the attic where the records were stored.
    “Don’t you think it’s odd? Clarence and Samantha shopped with us on a regular basis and the day after Samantha dies, he comes to the store. Oscar’s wife never shopped here and she stops in on the day of her husband’s death?”
    “You’ve mentioned the latter once or twice,” Opal said. “Maybe Pearl’s right. Perhaps they needed to be around other people. Clarence couldn’t have been surprised by Samantha’s passing. She’d battled cancer for more than a decade. And they spent a lot of time downtown, visiting with merchants and enjoying their days together.”
    “True. He’s the type who might want to retrace their last steps together.”
    “Or cover his tracks?” Pearl suggested, backing out of the attic with bundled paperwork stuffed under her arm. “Clarence was here that day all right. And wait until you see what he bought.”
    Mary Louise turned to Opal. “I thought you said you would’ve remembered if he had purchased something that day?”
    “She didn’t wait on him. You did.” Pearl thrust a pile of documents in her direction.
    Accepting them, she pulled a detailed receipt free of the rubber band. The first invoice showcased Clarence’s name and her initials. “He bought a shovel from the 18 th century and a decorated cinderblock compliments of Riverside Daycare. He also purchased an ax, no significant features noted. Probably the one he’s using out at the community.”
    Pearl handed over another receipt. “Wait until you see what Oscar’s wife bought. For a grieving widow, Kelly planned to do a lot of work and I’m guessing she had some help.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
    “Guess I was wrong about Mr. Jackson. He didn’t take one of those ‘I’m remembering you’ strolls. Not that man.” Pearl shook her finger at them. “I knew it when I saw him taking out his frustrations on that poor tree. Man has killer instincts, a murderer’s swing.”
    Opal opened an overhead bin next to the refrigerator. After moving aside the coffee caddy and condiments, she stood on her tiptoes and grabbed a pack of promotional flashlights. The small container tilted over and white sugar packs scattered about. Frustrated, she scooped up the tiny squares and stuffed them in the red and blue container. “For crying out loud, what are you talking about now? I thought you had a good time at bingo.”
    “This has nothing to do with playing games. I’m talking about Clarence. Clarence Jackson.” As if they needed clarification. She grabbed the receipt and waved it around like a