Poor Defenseless Addie-Amazing Gracie Mystery Series

By Fay Risner

Fay Risner entered the National November Write Month contest in November 2012 and made it over the 50,000 word finish line before the deadline. Poor Defenseless Addie, book seven in the Amazing Gracie Mystery series is the finished product of that effort.

Though Gracie Evans is tired of listening to all the town gossips, she begins to worry when they talk about a stranger in town. The man is living with a friend of Gracie's, Addie Masters. Seems he is the elderly woman's son that none of the gossips knew about.

When Addie stops attending church, Gracie and the other residents from Moser Mansion wonder if she's ailing. They decide to visit her. A first hand look at Addie's rude son and seeing a wicked bruise on Addie's hand gets Gracie and her friends putting two and two together. They come up with elderly abuse that they think should be reported to the law.

Town Marshal Earl Bullock turns their complaint about Homer Masters over to Sheriff Ben Logan. He comes up with some disturbing information that has the sheriff and town marshal worried about Addie. They have to have proof that Homer is abusing his mother, or she has to confess which isn't going to happen.

Beloved Aunt Pearlbee is suddenly taken ill and needs attention. The residents of Moser Mansion have to let Addie fend for herself. Gracie worries that by the time they get back to helping poor defenseless Addie Masters, she will be dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fay Risner
• Release date: Mar 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301593941

Fay Risner

Fay Risner lives with her husband on a central Iowa acreage along with their chickens, rabbits, goats and cats. A retired Certified Nurse Aide, she now divides her time between writing books, livestock chores, working in her flower beds, the garden and going fishing with her husband. In the winter, she makes quilts. Fay writes books in various genre and languages. Historical mystery series like Stringbean westerns and Amazing Gracie Mysteries, Nurse Hal's Amish series set in southern Iowa and books for Caregivers about Alzheimer's. She uses 12 font print in her books and 14 font print in her novellas to make them reader friendly. Now her books are in Large Print. Her books have a mid western Iowa and small town flavor. She pulls the readers into her stories, making it hard for them to put a book down until the reader sees how the story ends. Readers say the characters are fun to get to know and often humorous enough to cause the readers to laugh out loud. The books leave readers wanting a sequel or a series so they can read about the characters again. Enjoy Fay Risner's books and please leave a review to make others familiar with her work.

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Poor Defenseless Addie

Fay Risner

copyright © 2013 Fay Risner

Published at Smashwords

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

On a hot afternoon in Locked Rock, Iowa, the Moser Mansion ladies could usually be found in one of two places, on the mansion rest home porch or in the parlor. As they rocked on the front porch, Gracie Evans, Melinda Applegate and Madeline Patterford discussed from behind wavering, Jenkins Feed Store paper fans how not a leaf was stirring on the trees and bushes. How the poor panting sparrows had more tongue out of their beaks than in.

Conversation was forced to be mostly about the summer heat since all the neighbors were indoors, waiting until the sun lost some of its power. Even children didn't want to play outside on a day like this.

After the women had been quiet for awhile and even dozed off for a few minutes at a time, Melinda rolled her curly head to view Gracie. Penny for your thoughts.

Reckon you'd think that's too much to pay. A penny for my thoughts would get you change. With a hard swish of her fan, Gracie stated matter a factly, I was just pondering how folks in this town know all about each other from the time they were born, including their private business.

Mercy! What brought that on?

Weren't you listening to Maudie Brown this morning talking to Hilda Potter as they passed by on the street?

Melinda had to think back to that morning. She wasn't sure she remembered much of the conversation. Sort of. What about it?

That question was enough to start Gracie on a roll. They were going on about Elmer Jenkins wife. Talk is around town she was having lunch with their new clerk in Irene's Cafe over at Van Horne. You know the one, that young man out south of town. His father owns a large farm near the Amana Lilly Pond. Big customer at Jenkins Feed Store. Like it was any of their business how Mrs. Jenkins spends her time or her money. Like I said everyone in town knows the other's business.

You trying to say it wasn't that way in the country when you lived on the farm? Melinda asked.

Spect it's just as bad around my farm. The only differences with farm folks is they don't get to gather as often and don't live close enough to see in their neighbor's bedroom windows.

Finally, Madeline butted into the conversation. Oh, brother! Are you telling us that someone has been peeking in your bedroom on the second floor?

Not as long as I stay away from the window when the lamp's lit. Out in the country, no need to worry about such as that when you're undressing, Gracie informed her. It ain't only that. Folks know other folks's family history way back to when their relatives came to this country from across the ocean. The information is passed down from one generation to another as if that's anybody's business.

So? Melinda asked.

Knowing about folks' family tree don't stop there for nosy folks. They remember a story they think might spark interest, and they are willing to share it, good or bad. More so bad since that creates more interest when told, Gracie said.

Madeline waved her hand toward Gracie in a know it all manner. That's just human nature. We're built to be curious about things we maybe shouldn't be.

That's right, Gracie. Melinda agreed with Madeline. We just have to learn to tune out what we don't want to hear.

Gracie amended, It's the kind of facts folks have long memories about that bothers me.

Gracie, are you trying to tell us there's something in your past that's going to be common knowledge soon? Madeline said with humor in her voice.

Right! Melinda perked up in her rocker, Something that you would rather we not know about you?

Nope, never going to happen, Gracie grumped.

Not much we can do about what folks tell each other, Melinda said softly.

Probably not. Just speculating that gossip wouldn't be so thick around here if it wasn't for all the time Locked Rock folks spend together. For instance, a group meeting of some sort happens all the time like the women's aid club and the bible study group at the church.

You belong to that bible study group just like we do, Melinda huffed.

That's how I know more than studying the bible goes on when a juicy story is a foot. Same with fund raisers for the school and library which pop up every little bit, trying to always get more money out of us poor folks, Gracie declared.

The school and library are always in need of funds. People should help out so our children and grandchildren get a good education. Madeline's crisp Yankee accent gave her words authority.

Listening to her was enough to make Gracie back down. Reckon that's right, but that don't keep people from talking while they fund raise. Gossip happens when we pass folks downtown while shopping or going to the post office for the mail. It seemed folks always have time to stop on the boardwalk and talk if they know something they shouldn't be passing on. If not, there's always that saloon full of men on Main Street. Their tongues get loose, and they are willing to talk about anything that don't concern them if it ain't about themselves.

They probably take the news home to their wives. Gets them off the hook for coming in late or losing money at the poker table. Wives pass on what they hear to the rest of the women in town. Gets them a little attention, knowing something the others didn't, Madeline said as she stood up and disappeared inside without a word.

As soon as Madeline left, Melinda continued the conversation, Goodness sakes! People who gossip are like a skunk. Not ever going to change their stripes. Curly Jordan's barbershop is another place where tales are started. I hear plenty there.

Anything recently? Gracie asked, perking up with curiosity.

Listen to you, the pot calling the kettle black. Gracie glared at Melinda. She continued as if she didn't notice Gracie's displeasure. Mostly I heard about newcomers in town. Who they are kin to and where they came from. How long they might stick around. That sort of thing.

Any newcomers mentioned lately? Gracie asked.

Quite a few. Curly thought people are settling in Locked Rock because of the railroad. It so happens a particular newcomer's name was talked about quite a bit. The talk between Curly and Toffer Upfield was mostly about Homer Masters, moving in with his mother, Addie. Seems he hasn't tried to find a job. He picks and sells his mother's apples during the day and spends his evenings in the saloon, Melinda informed her.

Gracie protested other folks being nosy, but she didn't mind hearing or sharing gossip. After all, what else did she have to do now that she was retired. Besides, Melinda was the only one she usually gossiped with. That didn't seem like such a bad thing when it was just between the two of them.

On the street, women twirled their parasols as they visited while their skirt hems collected powdered dust in the hoof churned street. Often, Gracie heard what was going on in the neighborhood if they talked loud enough. Homer Masters was one newcomer name familiar to her. He was often mentioned during street gossip.

Gracie's interest in the gossip about Homer would have stopped there since she didn't personally know the man, but Addie Masters went to church with Gracie and the other residents. They all considered her a friend so they were naturally interested in what was going on in Addie's life.

Breaking into Gracie's thoughts, Melinda asked, Wonder what happened to Madeline? I thought she was going to the water closet, and she'd be right back.

Gracie wiped her brow on her blouse sleeve and declared, Unless she's constipated, she's probably just the only one of us that had better sense than to stay on this porch this long. The sun will soon be down in the west. It's going to blast the porch. Heat waves will bounce off the hot floor boards and cook us if we stay put.

Melinda gasped. Mercy, that's an awful picture you just painted. I hate the thought of getting fried like a chicken. It's bad for my complexion, but what should we do now?

Gracie instructed, We're going to head to the kitchen and have Pearlbee get us a glass of lemonade. That pitcher she made right after lunch should be chilled by now.

Gracie halted just inside the kitchen. Following on Gracie's heels, Melinda bumped into her. Melinda peered over Gracie's shoulder to see what the hold up was.

Gracie couldn't help glancing at her tan cotton blouse and dark brown, full cotton skirt and over her shoulder at Melinda in her lacy, starched white blouse and black skirt. The two of them were modestly dressed Midwesterners compared to fashion plate New Yorker, Madeline Patterford in her stylish dark red, frame fitting dress.

Even Madeline's fancy, poofy hairdo was altogether different from the way Gracie and Melinda wore their hair. Gracie's thin gray hair was plaited in one braid that she wound around her head like a crown. Melinda had such fine curly hair she preferred to keep her curls short enough to resemble a curly mop.

Gracie begrudgingly admitted next to former resident, Libby Hook, Madeline was an improvement. Not quite as cranky as Libby or as odd. On the other hand, outspoken Madeline was quick to anger when Gracie didn't suit her. In Madeline's favor, she was fast to cool off and move on to keep the peace. Living out east her whole life made it hard for Madeline to understand Midwestern ways, but she was learning.

Sometimes, Madeline was a little bossy, but Gracie decided awhile back she could live with that as long as the woman gave her time to speak her piece. Gracie figured Miss Molly could have picked someone worse than Madeline to live with them.

Madeline took a drink of her lemonade. Pearlbee Washington, the cook, perked up in her rocker by the cookstove to look at Gracie and Melinda in the doorway.

So this is where you've been hiding, Madeline? Gracie barked as she headed for the table with Melinda following her but not so close this time.

Oh, brother! Does one really hide in this house? I know it's big, but last I've heard, we're allowed to roam freely around in it when we please, Madeline huffed.

Pearlbee grinned and agreed with Madeline, Ah has said that fer years. We is free in this here house.

Melinda giggled. You're funny, Aunt Pearlbee.

Gracie ignored the joke. We finally gave up on sitting on the porch. We came to find out what you were up to, Madeline. Melinda and me sure could use a glass of lemonade, Pearlbee.

Ya will find a pitcher all ready made in the icebox. Hep yerself, Pearlbee suggested, not offering to get up.

Gracie turned toward Pearlbee, ready to protest, but Melinda put a hand on her arm. I'll be glad to get both of us a glass. It's hot, and Aunt Pearlbee is comfortable where she is. Madeline, would you like a refill?

No, thank you, Madeline said politely.

How about you, Aunt Pearlbee? May I get you a glass? Melinda asked.

Pearlbee sighed and wiped her sweat beaded forehead with the long sleeve on her faded house dress. Ah sure could use it. Thank ya kindly for askin', Miss Melinda.

Melinda hustled to the cupboard for the glasses, set them on the table then went to the icebox while Gracie sat down. She poured three glasses full from the instantly frosted pitcher and took Pearlbee one.

Pearlbee took a drink. Ah sure do thank ya, Miss Melinda. Dat tastes mighty good.

That's because you make the best lemonade in the whole county, Melinda complimented and received a weak smile from the black woman.

Pearlbee. Madeline spoke the word slowly. You have a most unusual name. I've never heard anyone named that before. How did you come by it?

Pearlbee Washington paused to give her answer some thought. As she aged, the old woman had thinned down to half her former self in the last few years, and her mind didn't work as fast as it used to. Her once round dark face was now gaunt, tight skin over bony cheeks.

The fancy maid uniforms Miss Molly bought her that she loved so much no longer fit. Pearlbee was back to wearing her cotton house dresses, and they pretty much hung on her.

She wasn't one to complain about not feeling well, but it was clear the old cook suffered from arthritis. She limped around, leaning on her cane, and who knew what other ailments she suffered in silence. Pearlbee wouldn't think of going to the doctor unless Molly Lang or Pearlbee's husband, Malachi, had insisted. They hated to hurt her feelings or make her mad so they hadn't pressured her to seek medical attention.

Some time back, Molly cut down Pearlbee's duties from housekeeper and cook to just cook. She gave the housekeeping job to Agnes Barnes who lived two blocks away. Even without the extra duties, cooking was a tiring task, but Pearlbee insisted she earn her keep. Molly said she'd worked hard enough in her life time. She wanted Pearlbee, who had been like a mother to her, to retire and just live at Moser Mansion, enjoying what little time she had left. Pearlbee huffed up and told Molly she wouldn't enjoy doing nothing while she waited to die. Molly should forget about taking her cooking apron away from her.

Molly conceded the argument and compromised by putting a rocker close to the wood cookstove. She covered it with a brightly patterned quilt to soften the seat. That way Pearlbee could get off her feet while she watched meals cook. The elderly woman went for that kind offer and took advantage of the rocker all the time.

Molly loved Pearlbee and Malachi like second parents. The couple took care of her when she was small while her parents traveled in Europe. Molly would do anything for the Washingtons.

Now Pearlbee's face grew thoughtful as she went back in time. Her eyes softened as she reminisced in her mind. She ran her hand over the crook in her smooth wooden cane, leaned against the rocker arm. Finally, she faced the women. "It been a good long time since ah last tole this story when Malachi asked me that question.

Let me see if ah remember it the way my mammy tole me when ah was a tadpole. Ah was born in August of 1846 in the slave quarters on a plantation in Boone County, Missouri. From the moment my mammy held me, she said she thought ah was the prettiest babe she ever did see.

Dat could have been cause ah was her first born, but she said my skin was the tan color of a natural pearl. She wanted to name me Pearl, but she had to think on it.

It was a sign of the awful times fer colored folks back then dat Mammy worried my light skin might not serve me good around white folks when ah was growed. She feared for what kind of life ah would have and reckoned it would be no better than hers. Ah just wished she hadn't been so troubled. She'd be right proud if she could see how much better a life I had than her.

While