Page 22 of Snowbirds
Between the two of them, Ivan and Chris shared what had happened the night before. Noteverything—Chris would have rather stuck needles in his eye than talk personal details with his parents. But they told them about the noise and finding the door unlocked.
“It was ajar,” explained Ivan, “or we never would’ve gone inside. Like a wellness check kind of thing.”
“Right,” Chris said, even though they had no authority in Arizona. “A wellness check.”
“Good,” said Susie. “Finding someone dead would be horrible. Although those creatures must have given you a scare.”
Ivan and Chris exchanged a glance and eyebrow raises—as if between Chris and Ivan, they hadn’t seen many dead bodies and caused some of them too.
“No dead bodies,” Ivan continued. “But aside from the taxidermy, there was a lot of terracotta stuff. Also a plaster leg.”
“Oh, well, those aren’t weird. Frank’s neighbor sells the pots and ‘art’ at some of the local markets,” Susie said. “I think he goes around and buys things from garage sales and estates, calls himself a picker. Like on that show,American Pickers. Most of it’s crap.”
“He’s not selling any inventory he left behind. Have you seen him in a while?” Chris asked his mom.
Thinking for a minute, Susie washed down her bite of frittata with a swig of orange juice.
“We haven’t seen him recently, have we, Lance? But so many people here are snowbirds, they’re in and out all the time.”
Lance was nodding. “I don’t think we have seen him. Honestly, I don’t know if I could tell you what he looks like other than he’s white, average height, probably in his late sixties or early seventies, but with being in the sun a lot, he could be younger. Not under fifty, of course. Dark-haired once, but now more salt than pepper.”
Trust his dad “not to know what someone looked like” and still provide an excellent description of them.
“Is he friendly with anyone here?” Ivan asked.
His parents both shook their heads and shrugged. “I can’t say,” Susie replied. “But you could ask at the clubhouse.”
“We could also ask around at the market in the town center. I think he has a booth there,” offered Lance.
Oh, great. Lance Hatch, retired city librarian, was on the case. And worse, his dad’s keen instincts were sending Chris and Ivan to a shopping area infested with people.
“Thanks for the tip, Dad,” Chris said, meaning it, “but just Ivan and I will head over there to ask questions.”
NINE
Ivan
“Cleevus Buckley. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a hot minute.”
The wizened older person selling kettle corn appeared thoughtful. The kettle corn booth was directly next to the space Cleevus Buckley apparently usually rented.
“I haven’t seen him around for a while now.” He closed one eye as he tried to remember. “Maybe a couple weeks? Maybe longer? But he could be shacked up with that woman he’s been seeing, she seems like she has money. Cleevus likes the money.”
Ivan almost laughed out loud when the man saidshacked up. Who used terms like that these days? This guy, apparently. The light breeze changed directions, and Ivan’s stomach rumbled in response to the heady scent of gourmet-style popcorn actively assaulting his senses.
Later.After they got the information they needed.
“By any chance does she ride a bike?” Chris asked, oblivious to Ivan’s intense desire for a midmorning snack.
“I don’t know about that. It’s weird that Cleevus hasn’t been around now that you mention it. He doesn’t like to miss snowbird season.”
“Oh, yeah?” Chris said. “Any particular reason why?”
“His freaky stuff is popular with the tourists. My corn sells all year round,” he said proudly.
There was something about the way he said “stuff” that had Ivan thinking about taxidermy and yard art.
“His taxidermy or the terracotta pieces? The frogs?” asked Ivan, picturing the frog he’d seen near Chris’s borrowed address.
