by Marja McGraw
“He’s going to stay home with her,” I said. “If we visit the house again, either Pete or I will stay with her and Stan will go.”
“You’ve obviously thought this through.” Aunt Martha was giving our plan her seal of approval.
“Okay,” Pete said, “let’s go.”
“Which car will we take?” Mother asked.
Pete was having a patient morning. He didn’t seem to be letting anything bother him. “We’ll walk. It’s not that far.”
My aunt turned to my mother. “The exercise will do you good.”
“I get plenty of exercise at my B&B.”
I headed for the front door before they could get into another war of words.
We walked for about a quarter of a mile before Pete stopped us. “This is it.”
“What?” I looked around but didn’t see anything.
“The trail. Can’t you see it?”
I turned from the road toward a vacant field and studied the terrain. “Not really.”
Pete started walking through some growth, expecting us to follow him.
“Oh.” I could almost see the trail, although it was covered with all kinds of vegetation and weeds.
We passed a stand of evergreen trees and more growth. I figure we’d walked about another quarter of a mile.
Pete stopped and glanced up at the darkening sky. “We’d better hurry. It looks like the storm is approaching faster than the weathercaster thought it would.”
I followed his gaze and saw a dark sky. It was fairly warm and windy, and I figured the situation was ripe for more thunder and lightning.
“Let’s hurry this up.” Aunt Martha started to walk
ahead of us.
“Where are you going?” Pete asked.
“To find the house. Where else would I be going?”
“Stop and turn to your right,” he said. “It’s right there.”
She stopped and turned, squinting. “It’s right where?”
“Look through the trees,” Pete said. “You’re supposed to be a prepper. You should be able to figure this out.”
“Well, I’ll be a son-of-a-gun. You’re on top of this.”
My mother had already started walking toward the house, sloshing through wet overgrowth. “Hurry up.”
Thunder rumbled off in the distance. I hadn’t seen the lightning, but I knew it had been a preamble to the sound.
We followed my mother for a short distance before Pete pulled her back and took the lead.
“We don’t know who’s in there, so let me check things out first. Wait here.”
My aunt mumbled something and my mother nodded. I ignored them.
There was a flash of lightning and it was followed by another rumble. It sounded like the storm was moving toward us. It started raining.
“Come on,” I said, running after Pete.
My mother tried to put up her umbrella, but we were too close to the trees. She gave up and closed it.
“Wimp,” my aunt said, running toward the house.
Pete started waving his arms at us as though to warn us off, but it did no good. My relatives just kept running, and so did I. With the storm moving closer, I figured we needed to get away from the trees.
The house beckoned to me.
The face I saw at the window didn’t.
I couldn’t see what the person looked like because the windows were covered with dirt and grime, but nearby lightning, and thunder almost overhead, kept me running anyway.
“Hurry up,” I yelled at my mother and aunt.
Pete stood under an overhang on the porch and looked defeated. His shoulders slumped. “If someone was here, they’re gone by now.”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “I saw a face in the window.”
His shoulders straightened and he looked intrigued. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Now open that door.”
He tried the door knob and it turned, almost too easily. Unfortunately, he didn’t move fast enough and my relatives practically ran him down in their haste to get out of the pouring rain. We followed closely.
Before I could catch my breath a figure stepped out of the shadows. He or she was wearing jeans and a hoodie. A closer look told me this was a young woman.
“Who are you people?” she asked.
“A better question is, who are you?” Pete stood with his hands in his pockets. “And what are you doing here?”
She pushed the hoodie off her head and glared at Pete. “I needed a place to get out of the storm.” She sounded defiant.
Aunt Martha took a step forward.
“Back off, lady,” the girl said.
With her hood off I could see that she couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty years old. Her short black hair, obviously dyed, stood out from her head making her appear looney. Her expression resembling a cornered mouse didn’t help any. She was only a little taller than me.
Aunt Martha huffed and approached her. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Don’t call me sweetie. At your age, you wouldn’t believe my name if I told you.”
It was obvious she was trying to insult my aunt, but that wasn’t an easy thing to do unless you knew her and you knew which buttons to push. One thing Aunt Martha didn’t care about was her age. She always said she’d earned each and every wrinkle. I liked her attitude.
“Give it a try,” Pete said. “Answer the woman’s question. Who are you?”
The young woman sighed, loudly and exaggeratedly. “I’m Zasu Pitts.”
“Zasu was an old-time actress,” I said for everyone’s edification.
“I know who she was,” my aunt said.
“Me, too. She was a character actress, wasn’t she?” My mother had to get her two cents in.
“Okay, so what’s your real name?” Pete asked.
“That is my real name. My mother was a nut about old movies and our last name happens to be Pitts. The name has haunted me my whole life.”
“Kids at school teased you?” Mother asked.
“Are you kidding? They loved it. They thought it was cool. I hated it.”
“Why?” Aunt Martha asked.
“You people sure ask a lot of questions. Now get out of my house.”
“Your house? This is an abandoned house. You don’t belong here anymore than we do.” Pete had suddenly found his cop voice, his authoritative tone.
I had a feeling that wasn’t the way to handle Zasu.
“I’ve been living here for a few weeks,” she said. “What’s it to you? Go away and leave me alone.”
“Why don’t we all sit down and discuss this calmly,” I suggested. Of course, there were no chairs.
“I don’t mind sitting on the floor.” My mother plopped her behind down on the floor, making a point of sitting on one of the blankets.
Aunt Martha followed Mom’s lead and sat on another blanket. She patted the space next to her while watching Zasu.
The young woman ignored her.
I, on the other hand, didn’t ignore her and sat down next to her.
Pete stood his ground.
The room lit up with brilliant, white lightning and thunder roared directly overhead, making everyone except Pete jump.
Suddenly we heard a cry from another room. It was the cry of a baby.
Zasu jumped up and ran to the room returning shortly with a baby that looked to be less than a year old. She held the baby tenderly, pulling a heavy blanket tighter around the infant.
Zasu looked frightened. “I don’t like thunder storms. Maybe it’s a good thing you all came inside.”
Now she was talking sense.
Although it was warmish outside, the house was cold. I glanced from the baby to the fireplace and saw a pile of wood next to it.
The young woman saw me and smiled. “I found that in the barn and brought it in before the storm hit.”
The elephant in the room, or more to the point the baby, continued to whimper.
“Smart cookie,” my
mother said.
Pete, without being told, walked over and began preparing the fireplace for a fire.
“Thank you,” Zasu said softly.
My mother and aunt struggled to get off the floor and quickly surrounded the girl and her child, making cooing noises.
“Boy or girl?” my aunt asked.
“Girl.”
“She’s adorable,” my mother said, moving the blanket away from the baby’s face. “How old is she?”
Zasu smiled. “Nine months.”
“So what in blazes are you doing here with a child?”
My aunt generally came right to the point.
“It’s a long story. I don’t want to bore you with it.”
“You and a baby are hiding out in an abandoned house. What makes you think we’d be bored?” I asked.
“If you’re not bored, you’ll turn me in to the police.”
“What’s going on?” Pete turned from the fireplace.
Zasu looked at each of our faces, seeming to come to a decision.
“You can trust us.” My mother put on her caring face, one I knew well.
“I think I’m going to be accused of a crime.” Short and sweet.
“What kind of crime?” Pete asked.
“Murder.”
Not so sweet.
“I’m surprised you haven’t seen my name in the newspaper.”
My mother and aunt sucked in their breath in unison, while my mouth dropped open.
“We just arrived from out of state,” I said. It took a moment for what she’d said to sink in. I’d expected anything but a statement like that.
“Who did you kill?” my mother asked.
The baby started to cry again and Zasu hurried to the kitchen, returning with a bottle and a happy baby who was sucking for all she was worth.
“No one,” she replied adamantly. “But someone murdered my boyfriend and I’m the most likely suspect.”
“You know we’ll need to call the police,” Pete said.
“No! I didn’t do it and I’m not leaving my baby. I need someone to prove I’m innocent.”
My ears perked up.
Chapter Five
“My daughter and her husband are private eyes,” Mother said. The pride in her voice was unmistakable.
“Wait a minute,” Zasu said. “You all know who I am, but who are you?”
“I’m Livvie Brewster,” Mother said, and pointed at me. “This is my daughter, Sandi, and the man by the fireplace is her husband, Pete Goldberg.”
She held her arms out, hoping she could hold and feed the baby.
“Uh, I think you forgot someone, you twit.” Aunt Martha was definitely feeling slighted.
“Oh,” Mother said offhandedly, taking the child. “This is my sister, Martha.”
My aunt glanced from my mother to the baby. “It’s my turn next.”
“You can burp her.”
Zasu looked slightly amused. “I have a sister, too. I don’t know where she is now, though.”
Pete had the fire going and walked over to join us. “Okay, do you think you can fill us in now?”
She started to shake. “Everything was fine until about
two weeks ago. Mateo – “
“That’s your boyfriend?” I asked.
“Yes. We live – lived – together in Vancouver and we were going to get married soon.” A tear ran down her cheek. “Anyway, everything was fine, but then Mateo came home one night and he was upset. He said he’d seen something he shouldn’t have and he was worried. He didn’t know if the people involved knew he’d seen them or not.”
“What did he see?” Pete asked.
“He wouldn’t tell me. He said the baby and I should go somewhere else for a while, but he wouldn’t say why. We got into an argument, a big one, and I took the baby and went for a drive. You know, to cool off.
“I went back about an hour later and found Mateo in the kitchen. He’d been badly beaten. I grabbed the baby’s things and a few things for me, called 9-1-1, and left. I parked down the street figuring I could see when the EMTs came to take him to the hospital.”
“And you left because?” Aunt Martha asked.
“I saw what someone had done to Mateo and I didn’t want them to come back and find me and Sophie.”
“Sophie.” Mother smiled at the baby. “You have a lovely name, Sophie.”
Zasu continued with her story. “The police came and so did the EMTs. They were inside for a long time, and when they came out they were shaking their heads. I knew Mateo was dead. I left and drove over here. No one would think to look for us in Battle Ground. Right?”
“How did you know about this house?” I asked.
“Mateo and I used to go hiking around here.”
“Are you sure he’s dead?” Pete asked.
“The reaction from the EMTs told the whole story. Now I have to be sure Sophie and I are safe, and I’d be willing to bet I’m the biggest suspect in his death.”
“But he was beaten,” Pete said. “You’re not capable of
doing that.”
She stiffened. “He was beaten with a baseball bat. It was on the floor next to him. I could have done that. If you’re private investigators, will you help me? I don’t have anyone to turn to. Mateo was the closest thing I had to a family.”
“We’ll help,” my mother said.
“Of course, we will.” Aunt Martha was digging her heels in.
I cringed, mentally. They could have at least consulted me before offering our services.
“Come with us,” I said. “You and the baby can’t stay in this old house. Pete and I have a guest room you can use, and I’ll start doing some digging.”
I turned to my husband.
“Right, Pete?”
“Uh, sure. Can we talk outside for a minute? Be right back.”
He took hold of my arm and we headed for the great outdoors.
“What?” I asked.
“We don’t know this woman. We don’t know if her story is true. Are you sure you want to bring her home?”
I’d already thought about this. “She has a baby, and we can’t leave her here. It won’t be that difficult to check into her story. Remember, we have a friend with the local police. Joe helped us last time we were here and I’m sure he’ll do it again.”
“How are you going to keep him from knowing Zasu is staying with us?”
“I’ll take my mother and aunt with me to the police station and he’ll be more than happy to cooperate, if just to get rid of them.” I knew how intimidating these women could be, and Joe was about to find out. Cops had no advantage when it came to my relatives.
Boooom! The sound seemed to slowly roll across the
sky.
“Maybe we’d better wait until the storm lets up,” I said.
“You help her get her things together and I’ll go home and bring the car back.”
“In this weather? I don’t think you should go.”
“I’ll be fine,” Pete said, pulling up the hood on his jacket. “The storm is moving off.”
He left before I could stop him.
We got Zasu’s and the baby’s things together and waited.
Pete couldn’t bring the car up the trail and back to the house, so we’d have to wait and meet him by the street. I knew he wouldn’t be happy about all the mud we’d track into the Jeep, but such is life.
While we waited, I asked Zasu a few questions. “Do you have any idea where Mateo was when he saw whatever it was he saw?”
“Not really. He’d been at work and – “
“Where does he work?” Mother asked.
“He works for the power company, so he could have been anywhere. His job takes him out in the field, doing inspections and things.”
“Maybe his boss can tell you where he was,” Aunt Martha suggested. “They should know where he – “
My mother sighed and interrupted. “If he was in the field, they can only give you a possible location.
Besides, he could have been on his way from… “
“…one location to another.” My aunt finished my mother’s thought for her.
I rolled my eyes, something I’m famous for. “Would you two mind letting me ask the questions?”
“I saw that,” Mother said, imitating me and rolling her eyes.
“Did he give you any indication about where he was or what he saw?” I asked.
“No. He said he didn’t want to put me in danger, and that’s when he told me I should take the baby and leave. And that’s also when we had an argument and I left.”
“Okay,” I said. “The first thing I’m going to do is find out what happened. I’ll speak to Joe Fleming. He’s a cop and he should have access to all the information we need.”
I turned to my mother.
“I want you and Aunt Martha to come with me.”
They both grinned.
“She needs our help,” Mother said.
“Yes, she does.” Aunt Martha had a smirk on her face by that time.
“I’m only taking you along as a distraction,” I said.
Mother nodded. “Oh, we can do that.”
I know, I thought.
The storm had let up. “Let’s head out to the road,” I suggested. “It’s going to be muddy, so be careful.”
“Good thing I made you wear hiking boots, Livvie,” Aunt Martha said, glancing at my mother’s feet.
My mother ignored her.
I glanced at Zasu’s feet. She wore athletic shoes, just like me. We’d have to be careful about slipping.
“Let me carry Sophie,” my aunt said. “My shoes are more stable than yours.”
Zasu handed over the baby before she and my mother and I picked up their belongings.
Pete met us about halfway to the road and helped us carry things. “The rain was heavy and caused a few ruts, so be careful.”
We hurried as much as we dared.
It started to rain again, but our hands were too full to pull up our hoods. By the time we reached the Jeep, we looked like drowned rats. I noticed that my aunt had been careful to keep the baby covered and dry, God bless her.
We helped Zasu and Sophie into the car before loading
their things and ourselves. Needless to say, it was a short drive since the abandoned house was so close to our place.
