by Dale Mayer
“At a much higher cost,” Doreen said drily. “I could ask Scott first.”
“Yes,” Nan said. “But then, if you think about it, he’s doing you a service too because he’s buying them from you.”
“I have to admit I’m hesitant to sell any of these,” Doreen said.
“Good. You’re allowed to be sentimental,” Nan said. “You do need to get an insurance appraisal done and get them covered. Because, if they ever do go missing, the insurance company will pay you for them.”
Doreen nodded, grabbed the notepad with her to-do list, and wrote that down. “I suppose I should get the insurance looked at now that the house is empty too, shouldn’t I?”
“You should,” Nan said. “Definitely you should. And thank you, by the way, for taking care of the other paperwork. You got it all digitized because I got the email as well.” Nan looked around at the bookshelf and smiled.
“I still have those four books though,” Doreen said, looking at them.
“Ask Fen Gunderson,” Nan said. “He might know somebody who’s interested in them. Otherwise, just give them away, my dear. They’re like the last little bit of leftovers, so why not?”
“Except for the six hope chest boxes.”
“What do you want to do with those?”
“I didn’t find any living family members who cared to have it, except to sell the stuff, and that didn’t really feel right. We have a historical society in town. I was wondering about taking them there. All the nightclothes were obviously hand-stitched and might be of interest. Then I’ll see if they’d be interested in having some of the other items. And honestly I was thinking—and I mentioned it to Mack—that maybe I’d like to keep the sets of dishes.”
Doreen paused, then continued, “I should find out from Scott to confirm they aren’t massively priceless items.” She said the last phrase in a mocking tone. “But, if they’re not, and if it’s not something he wants, I thought maybe I would keep the dishes and put them to use. I only have your broken dishes, as it is.”
“Everybody needs a good set of Sunday china,” Nan said in delight. “And I’m pretty sure the woman who owned the hope chest items stored in those boxes would be happy to hear you were keeping them.”
“It’s three boxes full of dishes. And I thought maybe the love letters could go on display along with the nightdresses and other clothes.”
Nan tapped the table as she stared off in the distance. “I think I remember hearing about somebody involved in the memorial society, but I can’t remember who.”
“I need to make some phone calls and maybe stop by with a few items to see if they’re interested. Obviously we have the Pioneer Society here, intent on preserving our history, and maybe this history is important too.”
“Yes,” Nan said. “I really like that idea. So you also have all of Solomon’s files he’d collected throughout his life as a journalist, and that’s about it?”
“And the Bob Small newspaper clippings I kept from your friend,” Doreen said with a smile.
“Very true,” Nan said. Then she hopped to her feet. “I’ll let you go now. You might want to casually walk past Steve’s house and see if the police dogs are working now.”
“I don’t want to get involved in anything official,” Doreen said. “I’ve pissed off enough people in the law enforcement community.”
“You’ve also delighted many people, some in the law enforcement community as well. You shouldn’t feel bad if you want to know how the police dogs work. I’m sure there’ll be a crowd anyway.” Nan paused, then looked at the creek and back at Doreen. “Maybe you should go from the creekside.”
“I also wanted to do some gardening.”
On that note, the women stood and went to the backyard, where Doreen pointed out how far she’d made it with the digging and the weeding.
“This is starting to look really nice,” Nan said. “And remember to keep an eye on those pumps.”
With a wave, Nan headed down the creek. Doreen didn’t feel comfortable leaving her to walk all on her own, but there wasn’t any reason to follow her either. So she stood in place until her grandmother disappeared around the corner. It really was just a couple blocks back to her place. With Mugs and Goliath at her feet, Doreen smiled and said, “What about a walk in the other direction?” Mugs gave a bark, while Goliath gave a meow.
And Thaddeus, not to be outdone, said, “Thaddeus is here. Thaddeus is here.”
“I know, big guy,” Doreen said. “And, if you promise not to laugh at me anymore, you can ride on my shoulder.”
He started to laugh. Not quite as creepily and not quite as loudly but it was the same type of snicker. She shook her head at him. “You should mind your manners,” she said as she led the way toward Steve’s property.
“You should mind your manners,” Thaddeus said. “You should mind your manners.”
Doreen groaned. “How come you always imitate the wrong things?”
Thaddeus ignored her at that point, shaking his wings and ruffling up his feathers, as if to get comfortable on her right shoulder. She smiled and walked along the river. She’d had enough to eat from Mack’s visit this morning, and she really was good for hours. Besides, she wanted to see what police cadaver dogs could do. As she walked up to the river though, she found several cops lined all around the property. And there was Arnold.
He lifted his finger in her direction and shook it.
She glared at him. “I’m allowed to walk here.”
“You are,” he said, “but you’re not allowed on the property.”
“I wasn’t going on the property,” she said. “I just wanted to see the police dogs. See how well they worked.”
“A little too well,” he said grimly. Then he pointed to several markers on the lawn.
She frowned. “Please tell me those aren’t all bodies.”
“Then I won’t,” he said and turned his back on her, leaving her in silence.
“Wait, wait,” she said. “Are they?”
He glared at her and said, “Do you have any idea how much paperwork we have to do now?”
She smiled at him, knowing by now it was just his gruff exterior. “Do you understand how many families might find some closure now?” she asked.
He gave a clipped nod and said, “I do, but we don’t need you here right now. We got this.”
Chapter 6
Saturday Early Afternoon …
Doreen didn’t want to go, but, with the cops not allowing her to take pictures, to explore, or to do anything but stand mutely nearby, she finally turned away and headed home. The animals were happy to stay or to go. They were just happy to be out again, as if her one day of rest had been more than enough for them, and they were ready to zip ahead and to do things. She wasn’t sure how that worked, but, considering the somberness of what was happening here at Steve’s house, she was glad to know these women—if those were actually bodies—would finally get a chance to be heard and to have their families notified. Still, it was a very sad business.
Her steps slowed, stopping to pick up rocks in the creek, which was definitely rising. She studied the other rocks to find almost none were left visible in the middle of the river, and the water now rose onto the bank. As she stopped and studied the water height, she realized that quite possibly, within another few days to a week, she wouldn’t be able to walk along the banks, meaning she’d lose that path up to Steve’s place. She wondered if she had rubber boots anywhere. That would allow her to still walk a little bit here, even if muddy or flooded somewhat. But then, paths went along both sides of the river too, so she could keep tabs on what was going on at Steve’s place before the water rose enough to cause her any concern. Worst case scenario was she’d have to walk on the street side of the property.
Finally back home again, Doreen walked inside and made coffee and grabbed one of the two croissants, then sat outside on a chair by the veranda table. She needed to work on her garden, so, as soon as she was done eating, she
bounced back to her feet, walked past a small clump of heather and giggled. She immediately looked at the neighbor’s house, considering the pink satin handcuffs, and couldn’t think of a less likely pairing. Under what circumstances would a pair of sex-toy handcuffs end up in the heather patch of his garden?
They could obviously have been thrown there, maybe even before he moved in, depending on when he bought the place. She didn’t know how long he’d been in that house. And that meant, chances were, the handcuffs weren’t his, but somebody else had dropped them. But why here? And how? Another prostitute? Although how she’d have gotten her hands on them while in police possession, Doreen didn’t know.
No, her best bet was that some kid had swiped the box from the station and went through the stuff, tossing what was of no value. Hell, it could have been several kids, divvying up the contents of the box. But how did a kid get by the police to steal evidence from their possession?
All these thoughts ran through her head, but she didn’t have any answers. It was frustrating because she could do just so much if she had no further clues. Not the least of which was more info on the original cold case. Mack hadn’t said much about that case. With her mind coming up with more and more crazy ideas, she kept working away in her garden, getting yet another full bed done, then worked for another hour as she tossed out some of her initial ideas.
Maybe the original thief had his goods stolen too. That would be justice. The new person could have been walking or driving in the area and seen that their haul was useless and had thrown them into Richard’s garden bed. Although why there, she didn’t know. Still it wasn’t like Richard was ever into gardening and likely wouldn’t have found the items but for her. She’d never seen him do anything more than stand in that doorway, like an ogre. Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t out there in the dark with a flashlight when she wasn’t around. She giggled again at that image because he was so not the kind.
But then she was making a judgment call, and that wasn’t fair either. When she needed a break from her hard work, she stopped, wiped the sweat off her forehead, and sagged back. Maybe this was enough for today. She’d done an extra ten feet. That didn’t seem like very much, and, in a garden that had been well-kept, it wouldn’t have been. But, for here, where the plants needed trimming and the roots needed some loosening and the weeds and the entire ground around it needed turning over, it was definitely a lot.
She really should get some topsoil back here. But not until she had an idea of what she was keeping and what she wasn’t keeping. She had a little room around the side of her house for that to be delivered, but she didn’t think she could get anything like a dump truck this far back to deliver those huge cubic bags of topsoil that far, so she could wheelbarrow the bags farther. But that looked like a ton of work too. Unless they had a crane that could lift it over the house.
She brightened at that idea and then realized somebody probably did, but there would be a high price tag to go with it. She walked back into the house and decided on having some fresh lemonade. She’d had enough coffee for a while. She hadn’t had fresh lemonade in a long time, but she’d also never made it herself.
“How hard could it be?” she said out loud to Thaddeus. She sliced fresh lemons, dropped them in the pitcher, and filled it with cold water and ice cubes. Then she grabbed the sugar and put in one-quarter cup. She stirred and then tasted it. It was ever-so-slightly sweet water. Shaking her head, she grabbed more lemons, squeezed them, and gave Thaddeus one of the halves. Thaddeus busied himself, pecking away at it.
Changing her mind about the bird’s treat, she snagged it out from under his claws when he wasn’t looking. Then she gave him a piece of celery instead. “Remember green,” she said to him. “Green is healthy for you. I have no clue about yellow.”
He shot her a look, then pecked on the celery. That was all good. She tried the lemonade again. “Okay,” she said. “It’s now supersour.” She added a bit more sugar but judiciously. She didn’t have much, and she wasn’t a big sugar person anyway. At least she didn’t think so. But every time she was down at Nan’s, she managed to gobble zucchini bread or something equally delicious. So, maybe her taste buds were changing. She tasted her lemonade again and smacked her lips.
“Perfect,” she cried out. She poured herself a tall glass, put the pitcher in the fridge, and stepped back outside to her garden. She studied the small patch where her heather was in beautiful bloom and said, “You know what? Heather is always gorgeous at this time of year. But there’s so little of you that it’s not enough to make an impact.”
The shrubbery had spread over time. She really needed to have ten times more and wondered if she could potentially ask her neighbor for some because his garden was seriously overgrown. His would do better if she took out about half of it. But where would she put some?
She wandered down to the edge of the garden where the creek was and considered how the heather would help to retain the soil when the river rose and fell again, depending on the height of the water. Plus some heather would make a really nice border along that edge, now that the ratty old fencing had been torn down. She went over to her garden, dug some up, and moved the heather toward the creek. Then, not giving herself a chance to think more about it, she grabbed her shovel and walked around to the front to her neighbor’s house. She pounded on the door. At least, she pounded the third time when the first couple times didn’t do any good.
Finally the door opened, and Richard glared at her.
She gave him a beamingly happy smile. “I was wondering if I could have some of your heather. It’s really overgrown and could use a bit of thinning out.”
His eyebrows shot up to his forehead, then he glared at her some more. “Why? So you can find more things in it?”
Her jaw dropped. “Oh, I never thought about that,” she said, taking a few steps over to look at the massive heather patch. “What else would you have in there?”
“Nothing,” he said. He looked at the heather and shrugged. “I guess you can have a bit. But I don’t want it to look like you stole any.”
“I wouldn’t be stealing now, would I?” she said gently. “You said I could have it. Therefore, I’d just be moving some of it.”
His brows drew together as he upped the wattage of his glare.
She smiled and said, “I don’t know if you have more in the backyard that you want to get rid of, but I was thinking to put some along the creek edge. Nan’s backyard has suffered when she wasn’t able to look after it quite so well. So, I’m trying to bring in a few more plants to help revitalize it.”
He looked at his heather and then pointed to where it had bowed out into a big clump in the front.
From the color alone, Doreen could tell it was a different variety entirely.
“Why not take some of that one? It’s a different shade, which doesn’t really fit.”
She nodded. “That would give your patch a more uniform look.” She walked into the middle of his rocky bed area, bent down to where the odd-colored heather was, and said, “If you don’t want this one, I can probably pull out most of it, and then these two behind it will grow together. I can probably even shift them over a little. Or move some of your ground-cover rocks to hide the hole.”
He nodded. “Just make it look like you’ve not taken a big lump out of the middle.”
Doreen nodded. “I can do that.”
Before she even finished her sentence, he was back in his house. She moved the rocks away gently. And, with a great deal of difficulty, figured out where the heather started and stopped. At least, in terms of that one color. With that separated, she gently got her shovel underneath and loosened up a clump. By the time she was done, she had a clump that was a good two feet across.
Richard wouldn’t particularly like that because that would leave him with a big hole. She walked back to her house, grabbed a wheelbarrow, came back, and then lifted the loosened heather into the wheelbarrow. Afterward, she gently loosened and shifted the ot
her plants over a few inches at a time.
Now, with it all replanted and the flowers nicely arranged, it hid most of the hole. She piled up the rocks again and grabbed the hose and rinsed off the rocks, just to make it look like nobody had been here. As she curled up the hose afterward, she found Richard nearby, his hands on his hips, studying her work.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know if I should’ve asked to use the hose, but I was just trying to clean up the mess from digging and transplanting everything.”
“It looks good,” he said grudgingly.
Pleased, she smiled at him. “The plants were fairly crowded, so they’ll do better now.”
“I thought heather liked being crowded.”
“It does,” she said cheerfully, “if it has space to go. But it’s all up against the rhododendrons here, so they all fight for nutrients. With that overhang from the roof, they aren’t getting enough rainwater either.”
“I was looking at doing some underground irrigation, but well …” He shrugged.
Doreen understood. Whether it was time, money, or energy, everybody had a reason not to do something. “Looks fine as it is,” she said. “The heather won’t be in bloom for too much longer, so it’s nice to enjoy them while they’re showing so much color.”
He nodded, and she gave him a smile and grabbed her wheelbarrow, then slowly walked back to her yard. She wished she knew what else he had in his backyard. Maybe she could ask for a few more plants. She almost wanted to laugh at her superthrifty ways, but gardeners were gardeners. Although she’d managed to talk to a few when she was married, it was useless talking to most society women about it because they didn’t do their own gardening.
Whereas here she was hoping to meet with some plant lovers and maybe exchange some plants. She had a couple daylilies, but they were the standard ones, and she knew some massive ones were nicely colored out there. Same with the dahlias. She’d love to have some of those dinner plate dahlias she had seen on her walks. They were gorgeous. And Penny’s dahlias were probably pretty. If Doreen could get a couple of those, that would be lovely too. But then she knew she was persona non grata with Penny in jail right now, so it didn’t matter how nicely Doreen asked. She wouldn’t get any.
