Something to Crow About: Another P.J. Benson Mystery

by Maris Soule

  Wade and I should not have ended up as lovers, and I’m sure we broke all sorts of law enforcement policies, but hormones ruled. As I told Brenda, I never planned on getting married. Now I can’t imagine life without Wade, and I worry every time he leaves for work that he might not come back alive.

  Tonight, he returned looking exhausted. “Rough one?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving.”

  “Pizza,” I said, “I’ll warm it for you.”

  I also got him a beer. As he ate, seated at the old wooden table in the dining room, I sat across from him and silently tried to think of the best way to bring up what Jason had told me. Wade had finished one slice of pizza and half of the beer when I decided it would be a good time to talk to him about Jason being bullied. “I had an interesting talk with—”

  Wade interrupted me. “When did you last talk to your buddy Ken?”

  His question surprised me. “Ken?”

  “Yes, Ken Paget, your computer guy.”

  “Today.” Ken’s call still confused me. Wade asking about Ken confused me even more. “Why?”

  “He’s in trouble. Big trouble.”

  Wade leaned back in his chair. He was looking at me with his you-will-tell-me-everything detective look. “What did he say?”

  I didn’t see any reason not to tell him about the call, so I did. “He said he’d screwed up, but he didn’t say how. And, he kept whispering, except when he told someone he’d be just a minute.”

  “That’s all he said, that he’d screwed up?”

  “No. First he wanted to know if you were here, at home, then, when I said you’d been called to an emergency, he wanted to know if it was in Zenith and if you were homicide, if you investigated murders.”

  “What else?”

  “That was about it.” I tried to remember exactly what I’d said and what Ken had said. “I did tell him you’d been called to a trailer park. That’s when he said he really screwed up and hung up.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “No, nothing more. So, was the trailer park the one in Zenith? Was someone murdered?”

  “It was an overdose. Another friend of yours. Jerold Herman.”

  I shook my head. “If you mean Ken’s friend Jerry, he’s no friend of mine. I’ve never met him. All I know is he’s a musician and last June he was the one who figured out how to bypass a password on the cell phone I found.”

  “The cell phone you were supposed to turn over to Kalamazoo Public Safety.”

  I smiled. Wade wasn’t going to let me forget that.

  “You say he died of an overdose?”

  Wade nodded. “Paramedics said Herman was already dead when they arrived. Interesting part is the trailer is owned by a Mister Kenneth Paget.”

  That surprised me. “I thought Ken had a place in Kalamazoo.”

  “Neighbor said Paget bought the trailer a few months ago, but only stays there occasionally.”

  “That’s weird.” Ken wasn’t married, so he probably wasn’t using it for a rendezvous with another woman.

  “The paramedics found an empty nasal spray bottle beside the body. We’re assuming it was Paget who administered the NARCAN and called 9-1-1.”

  “Isn’t NARCAN supposed to revive a person?”

  “Depends on when it’s used. It may have worked for a short time, but then Herman may have had a second episode. We only found the one bottle.”

  “Ken wasn’t there when the paramedics arrived?”

  “The door was propped open, but he was gone.” Wade shrugged and once again picked up the second slice of pizza.

  “Is Ken now a wanted man?” That would explain why he’d sounded so nervous when he called me.

  “At the moment he’s simply a ‘Person of Interest,’ but we did find a bag of white powder with his name on it. If it’s—” He stopped himself. “If you hear from him again, you tell him to contact me.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Wade’s view of law enforcement was pretty much black and white. Break the law, you pay. Smoking weed might not be illegal nowadays, but leaving the scene of a crime was, and if that white powder turned out to be a narcotic, Ken was right. He’d screwed up.

  Wade finished the pizza and gave a satisfied sigh. “That was good. Thanks for taking Jason out for pizza.”

  “My pleasure, but there’s a problem.”

  Wade frowned. “Why? What happened? Did he act up?”

  “No, he was fine, but evidently he’s having trouble at school. Some of the boys are picking on him. One in particular, I gathered. They’re calling him a piglet. Saying you’re a pig, so he must be a piglet.”

  “Did he tell you the boy’s name?”

  “No, and when I asked him what he did when the boy said that, Jason said he did nothing, that you’d told him no fighting. I think you need to talk to him.”

  “He’s in bed, I assume.”

  “He went upstairs around nine.”

  “I’ll talk to him in the morning.” Wade downed the rest of his beer and stood. “I’m beat. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. You ready?”

  * * *

  I was in bed, waiting for Wade, when his phone rang. He was naked when he came out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, cell phone to his ear. “Yes, it was an overdose,” he said. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay?”

  Wade looked my way, raised his eyebrows, then shook his head. “Yes, I’m home. In fact, I’m about to crawl into bed.”

  The caller evidently said something, and Wade looked at me and smiled. “Yes, with P.J.”

  I didn’t know what was said next, but his, “Goodnight, Marge,” had a harsh edge.

  I tried not to smile.

  The first time I met Marge was last year when she came to my house to photograph the body in my dining room. I could tell she liked Wade. That day she was acting so sweet and sexy when she asked him to drive her back to the station. It was nauseating, and I was so glad when my dog peed on her shoe. He got an extra treat that night.

  More than once Wade has told me Marge means nothing to him, that she is just a friend, but I’ve seen a couple of the notes she’s given him. That woman’s looking for more than friendship. I think she’s hoping he’ll realize he’s made a mistake and will divorce me once this baby is born.

  Wade turned off the lights and crawled into bed with me. “Doesn’t she realize what time it is?” I asked as he snuggled up against me.

  “She was curious.”

  “So, she wasn’t at the trailer park today?”

  “No. Now, go to sleep, P.J.”

  “Yes, sir.” Secretly, I was feeling pleased. When Wade was talking to Marge, I didn’t see any physical reaction on his part. But then, again, maybe it was just too cold in the bedroom.

  As Wade wrapped his arms around me and snuggled even closer, I could tell I wasn’t sexually stimulating him, either. I sighed. What did I expect? I looked like a blimp.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  The soft rumble of a snore was his response.

  Chapter Six

  Saturday I woke to the smell of coffee. Thank goodness my negative reaction to coffee ended soon after Wade and I were married. Wade loves his coffee in the morning. It usually took two cups before he was ready to talk to anyone. He must have been on his third cup because by the time I came out of the bathroom, I found both Wade and Jason at the dining room table having what looked like a serious conversation.

  I listened in as I fixed myself a cup of tea.

  “You can’t let what others call you bother you,” Wade said.

  “I try not to.” Jason’s answer was accompanied with a sniff. “But they keep pushing me. And one of them tripped me.”

  “Have you said anything to the teacher?”

  Jason hung his head. “They said I’d better not or they’d make things really bad for me.”

  Wade simply nodded. “Are all of them mean? Or is one of them like a
leader?”

  “Danny.” Jason looked up. “He’s the leader. He’s the meanest. He’s the one who calls me piglet.”

  “What’s Danny’s last name?”

  “Heart. Or something like that. One of the other kids called him a lover, and Danny hit him and said not that kind of heart.”

  “And Danny’s in your class?”

  Jason nodded, but then his expression changed. “You’re not going to say anything to him, are you? Or to the teacher?”

  I heard the panic in the boy’s voice and wondered what Wade would do.

  “No, not yet. I’d rather you deal with this yourself.”

  “How?” Jason looked as scared by that idea as by the thought of his dad stepping in.

  “What you need to do is stop looking scared.”

  As Wade talked Jason through ways to appear confident and avoid the boys, I went into the kitchen and scrambled a couple eggs. By the time I’d finished my breakfast, Wade had Jason practicing how to walk so he would look confident. “Head high, back straight,” Wade instructed. “Look around, but don’t look like you’re ready for a fight. Stay aware of what’s going on around you. That way you will notice if your bully and his friends are approaching.”

  “What do I do if they do come after me?” Jason asked.

  I wondered the same thing.

  “Let’s say this Danny grabs you, like this.” Wade grabbed Jason’s pajama top and pulled him closer. “Or starts pushing you.” He flattened his hand and gently pushed Jason backwards. “There’s an easy way to stop him.”

  Wade let go of Jason’s top.

  “There is?”

  “Grab a finger.” Again, Wade put his hand against Jason’s chest. “Just one finger. . . or two.” He waited as Jason reached up and tentatively touched the back of Wade’s hand.

  “Any finger will work. Just quickly grab it and push it back.”

  I watched Jason fumble at first and then wrap his hand around Wade’s middle finger and try to push the finger back.

  “You don’t need to use your whole hand,” Wade said. “In fact, it’s better if you just use two or three of your fingers. Maybe your thumb and middle finger.”

  Jason corrected his hold and pushed. Wade gave a yelp and immediately stepped back.

  “That’s it,” he said, freeing his hand from Jason’s hold. “Now, do it again.”

  This time, Wade placed his hand flat against Jason’s top. Jason grabbed a finger with more confidence and bent it backwards. Again, Wade gave a yelp and moved his hand. Next Wade grabbed Jason’s arm. Jason repeated the procedure. Same when Wade grabbed Jason’s shoulder. Wade then turned Jason around and wrapped his arms around Jason’s waist, Wade’s hands across Jason’s stomach. Jason reacted immediately.

  Over and over Wade grabbed, pushed, or hugged Jason until the boy was laughing as he freed himself from Wade’s efforts. That was when Wade added, “Now, yell ‘Help’ as you get loose. ‘Help! Get the teacher!’ ”

  I had just fixed myself a second cup of tea when Wade told Jason, since he had the finger release down perfect, to go upstairs and practice walking with confidence. “Yell for help. Make it good and loud, so we can hear you down here.”

  Once Jason was upstairs, Wade came over and sat down next to me. “I probably shouldn’t have shown him that hand release. Next we’ll be getting a call from the school that Jason has broken a kid’s finger.”

  “At least you’ve given him something he can do to protect himself.”

  “I’d rather just go grab that Danny kid by the throat and tell him to leave my son alone.”

  I could tell from Wade’s expression he meant it. “Being a parent isn’t easy, is it?”

  “Not one bit.” He leaned close and patted my bulging abdomen. “How’s my little girl doing?”

  “Punching and kicking my sides,” I said. “I think she wants out.” A thumping noise sounded above us, and I chuckled. “Well, he does sound confident.”

  Wade glanced up at the ceiling. “Stomping wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  Shouts of “Help” now accompanied the thumping of feet, but the shouts weren’t very loud. I could barely hear them. Wade shook his head, and then looked back at me, at my belly. “What’s that midwife-nurse person say about your condition? Everything all right?”

  “She says my blood pressure’s good and everything looks fine. She thinks I’ll deliver in a couple weeks.”

  “You still want to have the baby here? At home?”

  “I think so.” I looked around the room. “Except . . .”

  Our house was once my grandparents’ house—my dad’s parents’. It is an old two-story farm house—kitchen, dining room, living room, bathroom and one bedroom downstairs and two bedrooms, a bathroom and attic upstairs The kitchen is old-fashioned, the linoleum needs to be torn up and replaced, the walls need painting, and both the plumbing and electricity need updating. Connie would not be impressed, especially not by our small bedroom, where clothes that didn’t fit in the armoire were piled on a chair in the corner, boxes of Wade’s things still sat on the floor, and the top of the dresser was covered with anything and everything that didn’t fit in the drawers.

  “Except what? Are you getting nervous?”

  “Sort of. I’m not sure there’s enough room in that bedroom for delivering a baby, and I’m a terrible housekeeper, and—”

  Wade interrupted. “I meant about giving birth. Linda worried that Jason might not be perfect and if having him would ruin her figure.”

  I laughed at that. “She worried about her figure; I worry about my brain.” I looked at Wade. “Be honest, doesn’t it worry you that I’ll turn out like my mother?”

  “A little.” He took my hand. “But just a little.”

  He leaned closer, his lips brushing my forehead, and I barely heard his, “I love you.” Barely, but it sent a sensation of warmth spiraling through me.

  For a moment neither of us said anything, the only sounds in the house Baraka’s doggy snores from the living room and Jason’s stomping above our heads. Then Wade got up and went over to the bottom of the stairs. “Yell louder,” he shouted. “And don’t stomp your feet. Simply walk with confidence.”

  Jason’s next “Help” was a bit louder, but it still didn’t sound forceful, and I couldn’t hear any difference in the way Jason was walking. It still sounded like stomping.

  Wade chuckled and slowly walked back toward me.

  “At least he’s trying,” I said.

  “That he is.” Wade sat back down beside me. “About your friend Ken.”

  So, we were back to Ken. “Yes?”

  “Last night I told you to tell him to call me. I changed my mind. You need to call him and tell him to come by the station.”

  That sounded like an order. “And turn himself in?”

  “Yes. He needs to talk to us.”

  “I had no idea he was doing drugs.”

  “We know he smoked marijuana. A couple of the other trailer owners confirmed that. Personally, I think he’s into a lot more. I told you we found white powder in a bag with his name on it. I’m guessing it’s heroin, but we’ll wait for the lab report on that. We also found a bag of pills on the floor near Mr. Herman, pills marked M30.”

  “M30?” I didn’t know what that meant.

  “They’re oxycodone pills. Take too many and your brain stops sending messages to your vital organs, which is probably why Mr. Herman is dead.”

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I said. Although over the phone Ken always sounded young, he had to be in his late thirties. Old enough to know better.

  Wade said nothing, but I had a feeling he was thinking I told you so.

  “Okay, so what happens to Ken?”

  “That depends on what the lab tells us about that white powder, how he got the pills, and—”

  A crash from above followed by a very loud, “Help!” stopped whatever Wade was going to say. Immediately, Wade bolted for the stairs, Baraka on his heels.
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  * * *

  By the time I lugged myself up the stairs, Baraka was sniffing Jason and Wade was placing an empty bookcase back against the hall wall. The books that had been housed on the shelves were scattered across the hallway, along with a couple knickknacks that had amazingly survived unscathed. “Are you okay?” I asked as Jason pushed books and memorabilia to the side—along with Baraka—and scrambled to his feet.

  “I didn’t mean to knock it over,” he said, looking at his dad and then me. “But there was a mouse. It ran right by me, and I jumped back and bumped into the bookcase, and—” Tears filled his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you hurt anywhere?” Wade asked.

  Jason rubbed his head, his neck, and his arms, and then shook his head.

  “Good. By the way, that was a great ‘Help’ you yelled. Exactly the way you should.”

  I noticed Jason’s tears switched to a smile. I also saw Wade run a hand over Jason’s shoulders and down his back, checking for tender spots, I assumed. Once certain his son was all right, Wade continued. “I think you need to pick up all of these books and things and put them back where they belong.”

  He then looked at me. “And I think I’d better buy some mouse traps.”

  “Or maybe a cat?” Jason said, looking hopeful.

  “A cat?” Wade glanced over to where Baraka was sniffing near the upstairs bathroom door. “He would probably eat a cat. Remember, he was bred to hunt lions.”

  Jason turned to me. “You said they just chased the lions until the hunters caught up.”

  “Chased them and held them at bay until the hunters caught up.” I didn’t want to contradict Wade, but I also didn’t want to give the Rhodesian Ridgebacks a bad rep. “If your Dad says you can have a cat, you’ll have to help me teach Baraka not to chase it or eat it.”

  “Tell you what,” Wade said, stepping back from Jason. “You get so you don’t let any of the kids at school bully you, and I’ll let you have a cat. Meanwhile, I need to get to work.”