Grave Notes on Aurelia

By Mary Elizabeth Greenwood and Afton Greenwood

Ruzena, an aged ex-vaudeville actress, sees and accuses thirteen-year-old Muggs of shoplifting. After learning that she lives alone on the first floor of her three-story home, Muggs, while pursued by a cop, slips into her house, sneaks upstairs, and takes refuge as a secret squatter. Disaster strikes when he discovers the murdered body of the cleaning lady, Aurelia, in the attic. Ruzena and Muggs, now both suspects, become bonded in friendship as they struggle to prove their innocence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 24, 2008
• ISBN: 9781465322043

Mary Elizabeth Greenwood

Afton Greenwood has written three novels: On the Edge with Cynthia, Baiting on the Bear, and Grave Notes on Aurelia, as well as a dictionary of Western Lingo and five volumes of family history. She also wrote a series of twenty-five articles published in the magazine, Jewelry Making, Gems and Minerals. She received degrees in literature, writing, and history from La Roche College, Allison Park, PA, graduating suma cum laude, and was honored as Salutatorian. She taught writing at Duquesne University on a fellowship. She now lives in Fishers, Indiana, surrounded by family.

Book preview

PITTSBURGH’S NORTHSIDE

19th Century:

The early steel industry is centered in the Allegheny Mountains where the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers converge to form the Ohio. Pittsburgh City grows up on the south side of Allegheny River, and Allegheny Town on the north. The area thrives as the center of shipping for Western Pennsylvania oil and steel. Because of its mountainous beauty, Allegheny Town becomes a popular bedroom community for the wealthy entrepreneurs.

As Allegheny Town grows, eighty-four acres of common ground surrounding the business section is converted into West Park, the first urban park in Western Pennsylvania. It includes a lake, boathouse, Phipps Conservatory, a national aviary, and the first free public library to be donated by Andrew Carnegie. Many Victorian mansions are built west of the old commons along Brighton Road, Ridge, and Lincoln Avenues.

1869:

Boggs and Buhl build a mercantile store that covers a city block of the old commons acreage. It attracts many shoppers from Pittsburgh as well as Allegheny Town.

1876:

The city’s professional baseball team, The Alleghenies, changes its name to The Pirates.

1903:

The Pirates play in the first World Series in Allegheny’s Exposition Park located east of the convergence of the three rivers. Later they move their field to the Oakland area in Pittsburgh, but in 1970, when the Three Rivers Stadium is built, the old home plate is found in a parking lot on the location of the original Exposition Park.

1907:

Against the wishes of Allegheny citizens, Pittsburgh annexes their city and names it Pittsburgh’s North Side or just Northside.

1950:

The wealthy move away from their crumbling mansions in Northside to Pittsburgh’s Shady Side, Sewickley, Spring Hill, and Mount Washington. Millionaire Row deteriorates until the Historical Society embarks on a program of preservation. It is now one of the most important historical landmarks of Western Pennsylvania.

1960:

The commercial area of Northside (525 buildings including the Boggs and Buhl’s Dept. Store) is demolished to make room for a shopping mall. A much smaller West Park still exists on what was originally the Commons.

GRAVE NOTES

ON

AURELIA

ONE

VJ Day, August 15, 1945, Pittsburgh’s Northside

Muggs leaned against the counter at Boggs and Buhl’s Department Store. With hands trembling and heart drumming his tonsils, he slipped a Scout Knife into the front pocket of his dungarees. Putting on an innocent face, he gazed at the ceiling, half expecting a million eyes to be looking down, judging.

He had already snitched a mini-flashlight and compass while cruising the store between a bearded giant in overalls and a society lady wearing bangle bracelets and swinging her rump. He figured no one would have noticed him—a thirteen-year-old Irish half-pint all duded up in dress pants and button shirt, with solid freckles and a kinky carrot top slicked down with pomade—when they could stare at Fancy Hips.

But Fancy Hips had joined the shoppers gathered at the front display windows to watch the VJ-Day parade on Federal Street. With Fancy Hips gone, Muggs’ courage slipped a disc, especially when he noticed an old gypsy woman eyeballing him. He backed to the next counter and prepared for a quick exit. Jeez. She’s going to attract the cops.

Instead of raising a ruckus, however, the old lady lifted a pair of scissors to her nose and squinted, as if she couldn’t tell a screwdriver from a flowerpot. Her umbrella being slightly open, a neat catchall for loot, Muggs pegged her as a bungling shoplifter who meant trouble. He had to get her out of the store before she attracted the floorwalker.

At that moment, the feared floorwalker, with a face as grim as a mudslinger on graveyard duty, approached and asked the old gypsy woman, May I assist you?

She dropped the scissors, and answered, No, no thanks.

When the floorwalker moved on, Muggs stepped quietly across the aisle and whispered, Lady, you’re bunglin’ the job. You shouldn’t try snitchin’ until you’ve learned the tricks.

Muggs’ intention was self-protection. All that crap about honor among thieves? Hogwash! It’s survival, Gus had preached. Gus was boss of the neighborhood kids’ club, the Gussers. He had issued an edict that each boy must snitch five items from Boggs and Buhl’s as initiation into the club. Being sixteen and already five feet eleven, Gus acted like the Emperor of Northside Junior High.

But back to the old gypsy woman, who was as inconspicuous as a red shirt blown off a clothesline onto a snowdrift. Beads galore hung over her ruffled purple blouse. A red scarf with bells on the tips covered her head, and large gold earrings dangled to her shoulders. A purple gypsy skirt with green zigzags, which had probably been the right size twenty-five pounds ago, was folded and pinned at the waist. The hem hung to the floor on the fastened side, and, through the gap, a petticoat waved a small white flag.

Instead of accepting Muggs’ free advice, she jabbed his ribs with her umbrella and screamed, Help!

As he snatched the umbrella, its handle caught the gap in her skirt, ripping it open. She grabbed for the umbrella, lost her balance, and took what would have been a back-breaker if Muggs hadn’t stopped her fall. The red scarf slipped off her head, taking a brown wig with it and uncovering straggly white hair. The umbrella flew over the counter into the next aisle.

I gotta get Granny to a doctor, Muggs announced, plopping on her wig and tying it down with the scarf. Please let us through.

Two slicks in business suits and Stetson hats—a Bird Beak with a bushy goatee and no hair, and a Fat Hitler who ballooned out like a stuffed circus clown—went into conniptions of laughter as they handed Muggs the umbrella.

Come on, lady, let’s get outta here, Muggs whispered. But the old gal fought and sputtered as he, gripping her elbow, forced her from the store. Dodging through a marching band and hoards of Pittsburgh’s Northsiders out celebrating the end of the war, Muggs steered her across Federal Street and onto a bench in West Park. The umbrella fell to her feet.

To stop her flopping around like a chicken who had just met the ax, he sat on her bony knees, but not with his whole hundred and ten pounds. Her breath came in spurts. Muggs feared she was having a heart attack.

Calm down. Cripes. I ain’t gonna hurt yuh. I just rescued you from an army of cops.

Take my money! she sputtered, twisting her diamond ring to get it off. Take my jewelry and let me go.

Sh-sh. Calm down. I ain’t after your money or jewels. Just listen.

Glisten? My diamond, you mean? It’ll glisten, young man. Just scrub it with a dab of toothpaste.

For cryin’ out loud, are you deaf or somethin’? I said listen, not glisten. He glanced around at the people gathering in West Park, afraid her loud voice was attracting attention. No one seemed to notice.

Listen? she shot back. How can I do anything else with you weighting me down like a sledge hammer? He lifted himself slightly to ease the weight.

Actually I am hard of hearing, she admitted, cupping her ear.

I’ll move if you’ll stop squirmin’. Cripes! You’d better cut out this shopliftin’.

Shoplifting? Did you say shoplifting?

Yeah. You almost had the store swarmin’ with cops.

It was? she bellowed. I didn’t see any.

Not was. Almost had. Criminy! You was fingerin’ the scissors. It’s plain your eyes are no good and your ears are no better. You’re just a novice.

No, I haven’t an office. Make dolls in my house.

Just then, Gus passed the bench. Spotting Muggs on the old lady’s lap, he puckered his lips, kissed the air, and hugged himself.

Muggs mouthed, I’ll get you later, and gave him the finger. With a Buster-Keaton frown, Gus skipped on.

By now the old lady had calmed down; so Muggs moved off her lap but held onto her elbow.

Thank you, she said. Now if you’ll release my arm, I promise not to run. I can’t anyway. My legs are numb and I think my ankle is broken.

Muggs let go and slipped beside her on the bench. Rocking back and forth as if her back hurt, she reached down and rubbed her knees.

What did you mean, accusing me of shoplifting. It’s you! I saw you slip the knife into your pocket.

Us kids don’t shoplift; it’s a game—

She pointed at him with her index finger. It is shoplifting, young man, and that’s a crime.

He pointed back, accidentally flicking the tip of her nose. I suppose liftin’ scissors ain’t thievin’.

She settled back on the bench as if too weary to explain. I lost my scissors. Need a new pair, but forgot my glasses. Was trying to read the inscription. Solingen scissors are best for sewing. Still breathy, she pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her forehead then shook the hanky in front of her neck as if trying to stir up a breeze. Muggs picked up a pamphlet from the bench and fanned her face.

Thank you. She breathed deeply. If you’re not after my money or jewelry, what do you want? Why did you attack me in Boggs and Buhl’s, call me Granny, and force me to retire from the store before I finished my shopping?

Muggs squawked in his Donald Duck voice. No scissors today, lady. You’d better cut this shopliftin’. You ain’t got the talent.

Speak up, she bellowed, and keep fanning, please. Her face folded in a million tiny wrinkles like a dried potato. Muggs figured she had been a fat lady who went on a diet and ended up a chain of bones. Young man, I don’t take kindly to your accusation, she went on. I’ve never stolen in my life. Why would a pip-squeak like you steal a pocket knife? Haven’t you any money?

Me and my friends is being initiated into a club, the Gussers. He continued fanning.

Ridiculous! What’s your name?

Muggs. He didn’t give her the whole mouthful.

How old? Ten? She bent forward to rub her legs.

He answered, blooming out with a clownish grin that usually brought big hee-haws, Sixteen. Short for my age.

In a pig’s eye. Twelve and tall for your age, she shot back in her steam-engine voice.

Thirteen. How old are you? About ninety? he snapped, standing up to leave.

I was born the day Abraham Lincoln was shot. If you know history, you should be able to figure that out. She snatched his rear pocket and tugged until he sat down. I’m old enough to recognize sticky fingers. Why aren’t you home, listening to a little healthy radio? What’s your mother thinking of, letting you out like this? Where do you live?

He put on his deep, ringing-with-wealth voice and pointed to the hills back of Clark’s Candy Company. Why, Ma’am, I live in a mansion up there with the steel bigwigs.

She glanced at Spring Hill. Why this petty thieving?

It ain’t thievin’. It’s a game with us Gussers. He resumed his normal voice, about ready to play fair with the old gal. My Mom’s dead. I live with my Uncle Kelly.

Then he went into his prize-winning falsetto: Where’s your uncle? Deep in his bass voice: Home, listenin’ to a little healthy radio. He was used to getting hee-haws for such antics. Uncle Kelly thought Muggs’ impersonations were hilarious.

But the old lady didn’t seem impressed. With difficulty, she pulled herself to her feet and limped to the sidewalk. Muggs sprang up, picked up the umbrella, and took her arm. Can I help you to the trolley? After injuring her ankle, he owed her that much.

I just live up Olympus a spell. I’d be much obliged for assistance.

The parade being over, crowds were mulling about on the sidewalk. The old dame limped so slowly, people dodged on both sides, trying to get past.

You’re just starting life, and thieving’s the wrong way to start, she preached. Not that I have much sympathy for Mr. Boggs or Mr. Buhl. Tony, my husband now dead, said our country’s in ruins because of greed and politics. It started with Harding’s oil leases and Hoover’s kowtowing to business. Now Truman’s dropping A-bombs on innocent babes.

Muggs tried to carry on an intelligent conversation. Uncle Kelly says the world’ll blow up any day now.

All politicians should be tarred and feathered. A hanging’s too kind.

At hospital corner, the breeze blew a newspaper across the sidewalk. Muggs glimpsed the headline, JAPAN SURRENDERS.

It’s a great day for the Army Air Corps, she said.

Cripes, it makes no difference to me, Muggs grumbled, kicking the paper. I’m always in the middle of a war, either with mice under my cot or Gus or my uncle—mostly my uncle.

As they turned onto Olympus Avenue, she pointed to a yellow-brick house shaped like a box—three stories, stained-glass windows, front porch, and balcony.

Muggs whistled. Criminy! Is that your house?

My husband paid cash for that house. He always had money and said we had big savings, but after he died no bank in Pittsburgh had any accounts in his name. She held fast to Mugg’s arm. Her limping seemed worse.

Maybe he had stocks. You know, big finance and stuff.

No. After the 1929 crash, Tony never trusted banks or brokers. He said, ‘The damn crooks will lock their doors and we’ll lose everything.’ Well, he lost his life. I guess that was about everything. But what Tony did with the money he bragged about, I’ll never know.

Muggs was anxious to get away, but to be polite he let her blow her steam. She was certainly full of it.

Jeez, how do you pay for lights and stuff? he asked.

Allegheny County dole. And a cashier’s check comes every month. I’ve no idea who from or why.

He practically carried her weight as she limped up the front steps. Adding to his troubles, she began to gasp for air. Afraid she might die on him, Muggs helped her into a porch chair and began rubbing her hands.

You live in this big house all alone? he asked.

Just on the lower floor, she spurted out in short puffs. Lumbago and stairs don’t mix. Had a sofa bed set up in the dining room and pantry made into a bathroom. Now I don’t have to go upstairs. She fanned herself with a flattened hand.

Where’s your key? I’ll unlock for yuh.

Key? Lost it awhile back.

Muggs pushed. The door stuck then squeaked and gave way with a hard shove. He took her elbow and helped her inside.

The parlor was full of dolls—boy dolls on the mantel, boy dolls on the radio, boy dolls everywhere with cloth faces and yarn hair, some in dungarees, some in clown suits, even a couple of fops in satin and lace.

Guiding her to a brown leather divan, Muggs asked, Can I do anythin’ for yuh?

"Oh, please. It would help greatly if I could just soak my ankle. There’s a bucket under the sink in the kitchen. Would you half fill it with tap water and