IN EVERY TOWN, THERE SEEMS to be the one who always gets the hard luck. And in Elmwood Springs, that person was poor Tot Whooten. Because of money problems at home, she had started working at sixteen, fixing hair on her back porch. Her father had been a drunk, and she had, like so many, turned around and married an alcoholic just like her father. Her husband, James Dwayne Whooten, was a mess and could not hold a job to save his life.
It wasn’t as if Tot had a natural talent for being a hairdresser. It was just the only way she knew to make a living. And she now had two small children, Dwayne Jr. and Darlene, to support, plus a husband and a mother who was not quite right. Most of the women in town let her fix their hair out of pity for her. Of course, everybody went home afterward and redid it, but they felt it was their Christian duty to help poor Tot. Tot was a skinny redhead who smoked too much, but who could blame her? First she’d had her daddy to deal with, then James, and now her mother was as nutty as a fruitcake.
But she didn’t complain. Tot could be pushed and pushed…but when she did lose her temper, watch out. The last event even wound up in The Elmwood Springs News.
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DOMESTIC DISPUTE
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August 14
Deputies arrested a woman who scratched, punched, and threw empty glass whiskey bottles at her husband during an argument on First Avenue North. She also uprooted numerous garden plants and shrubbery, then threw a cement garden gnome at the man as he attempted to flee their home in his car. As he was pulling away, she grabbed onto the car and was dragged several feet and sustained abrasions from the fall. She was later booked at the county jail and charged with aggravated assault after being released from the hospital.
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No names were used in the article, but everyone in town knew it was Tot. She had uprooted an awful lot of her bushes, and her yard was just a mess. Upon hearing her charge in court of aggravated assault, Tot had remarked to the judge, “You’re damn right I was aggravated. The son of a bitch was cheating on me!” She was let off with a warning.
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THE WHOLE TOWN’S TALKING
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by Mrs. Ida Jenkins
This week, the whole town’s talking about the recent wedding of Miss Norma Jenkins and Mr. Macky Warren. And in case you didn’t know, I was the happy mother of the bride! Goodness, I don’t know how other mothers can hold up under all the pressure of picking just the right outfit. Miss Howard in Ladies’ Better Wear at Morgan Brothers Department Store was a tremendous help to me. And after days, we finally settled on a lace-trimmed dress and jacket in eggshell pink with shoes, hat, and gloves to match. The bride was lovely in white satin. The couple is honeymooning and will return this time next week.
Other topics of conversation this week: Stratford-upon-Avon has nothing on us. Thanks to Ander and Beatrice Swensen, a charming pair of adult swans were purchased and are now happily gliding along in their new home in our own city park. Let’s hope they are a married couple. It would be so much fun to see baby swans. I am told they are gray in color, hence the moniker “Ugly Duckling.”
Just a reminder, a front lawn says so much about the people who live inside. What does your lawn say? Does your lawn reflect your personality? Hint: Neatly clipped bushes and freshly laundered curtains in the window are always a sign of an orderly home.
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In April of 1952, when word got out that Lester Shingle was dead, there were at least four women in town who were not too unhappy about it. They never said so out loud, but they thought it. Three of them went to his funeral, but Tot Whooten was not the kind of person who could pretend to be sad when she wasn’t. The service was on a Sunday, and her beauty shop was closed, so she went bowling instead. She had a big ladies’ tournament coming up, and she liked to get in as much practice as she could.
Last year had been another glorious year for the Elmwood Springs Ladies’ Bowling Team. They had taken first place in the state championship.
Both the Goodnight twins and their younger sister, Irene, better known as “Good Night Irene” for her ability to roll so many strikes, were all excellent bowlers. But when it came right down to the wire, they had won mostly because of Tot Whooten, who had been nicknamed by the other teams “Terrible Tot, the Left-Handed Bowler from Hell” for her uncanny talent with a bowling ball. Even though she was a skinny, wiry woman, Tot used a thirteen-pounder and never saw a spare she couldn’t hit. Her aim was lethal and legendary in bowling circles. Tot could pick up a spare with a spin that would knock a pin sideways to hell and back. “I got my spin from rolling up hair in pin curls for so many years,” she said.
When Lester Shingle woke up at Still Meadows and realized where he was, the very first thing he said to Lucille Beemer was, “Guess what happened to me?”
“I have no idea,” she said.
“Well, guess. Guess why I’m here.”
“Well, let’s see. Were you ill? A bad flu of some sort?”
“No. I was murdered in cold blood.”
Lucille was stunned to hear it, and for the first time in her official position as greeter, was almost rendered speechless. She simply couldn’t imagine such a thing happening in Elmwood Springs. All she could do was reply, “Oh, dear…I’m so sorry. That must have been very upsetting.” She knew it was a completely inadequate response, but under the circumstance, what else could someone say?
And, of course, she remembered Lester. He’d always had that bad skin. And now this. She was also aware that he had never been very well liked…but even so, this was just shocking news.
She hoped he wouldn’t bring it up again. It was just too upsetting to even think about, much less talk about. But, of course, when the very next person came in, a Mrs. Carrie Uptick, by way of a failed liver, Lester immediately grilled her for answers. “Have they arrested the murderess, yet?”
“Excuse me?” said Mrs. Uptick.
“The woman who murdered me.”
“Oh, gosh…I haven’t heard anything about anybody being arrested for murder.”
“Damn,” thought Lester. Whoever she was, she was still on the loose and could possibly kill again. Law enforcement was certainly not up to snuff in Elmwood Springs. Meanwhile, the woman could flee the state.
There were four women he suspected, but he didn’t know which one had done it. For all he knew, they could have been in on it together. They had all threatened his life at one time or another. And all four had been at the Blue Star Bowling Alley that night. He’d seen them.
He had forgotten Wednesday was ladies’ night, and when he walked in and saw them, he’d turned around and left as fast as he could, but he figured one of them must have seen him, because the last thing he remembered was one minute being hit in the back of the head with a heavy round object, and the next, waking up at Still Meadows. There was no doubt about it. One of those women had hit him in the head with a bowling ball and killed him deader than a doornail.