Jamaican Karma by T. S. Paul

Author:T. S. Paul [Paul, T. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Great God Pan Publishing, Inc
Published: 2019-06-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

It was seven o’clock but still light out. Shirley Penrod was Winston’s next-door neighbor. I’d saved her for last because according to the happy couple she’d only popped in to the party for a moment. The much older lady had been an enormous help with getting them settled in and all.

Mrs. Penrod lived directly next door. The concrete paths to each door were at sharp right angles to each other allowing for small front gardens with a modicum of privacy. Where Winston’s door was bright red, Shirley’s was dark green.

Checking my watch first I rang the bell.

The door opened a crack as a medium build older woman peeked out, “Hello? May I help you?”

I smiled. “Mrs. Penrod? My name is Mongo. I’m a friend of Winston and Hina. Sometime during the party the other night they had a family heirloom turn up missing. They wanted me to ask you if you remember seeing anything funny during the party. Anything at all would help.”

Opening the door wide, the older woman stepped outside joining my on the stoop. As I’d seen earlier, she was of medium height for a human, only coming up to my chin. Her blond to whitish hair was cut into a short bob with a small curl that ran down her neck. It was unusual enough for me to take notice. Something about her was familiar though. It might’ve been the extremely garish late 1970s clothes she had on though. I was suddenly having late night television flashbacks of the Mod Squad.

“I was only at the party for a few minutes while I returned Hina’s lovely casserole dish. Did you know she watered my plants and picked up all my mail for me? The day I returned from my trip she and Winston brought me dinner so I wouldn’t have to go back out. They are the loveliest couple,” Shirley gushed. Cocking her head to one side she tapped a finger against her lips. “I remember there were six or seven others there and one weird guy on the couch. What was stolen?”

“Something Hina’s father gave her. We’re not completely sure it was stolen yet though. They just wanted me to look into it since finding things is what I do. What did you go out of town for?” I asked her.

Shirley glared at me for a moment. “That sir is none of your business. If you must know though I was at a collectable trade show. Buying and selling historical items is how I earn my living.”

“That’s cool. You mean like furniture and things, my mom loves those funky colored dishes… Carnival glass is what it’s called. She’s got a ton of the stuff on shelves all over the house,” I explained.

Shirley nodded, “I remember that stuff. No what I specialize in is movie and television props from the golden days of tv and all the kitsch associated with it. Stuff like lunchboxes and cereal box giveaways.”

“You can make money off that stuff?” I had visions of all the yard sales and flea markets I got dragged to as a kid.

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