by Marja McGraw
Bubba grinned at Stanley, but he ignored the hound. Waving at Dolly, he left, glancing back at the house a couple of times on his way to his car.
Dolly was patiently waiting for me in the living room. She waved at Stanley as he hurried out the door, and now she was ready to get down to business. Dolly was such a tiny little thing, sitting forward on the couch with her feet barely touching the floor.
“So what happened at Chrissy’s?” she asked in her funny little voice.
Chapter Ten
“We had a lovely dinner. Chrissy’s a good cook. And I had fun with little Tammi, too.”
“But what about the bum?”
“Chrissy told me the whole story. I’m going to try to help her out and get rid of this guy.” I didn’t want to say too much to Dolly about how I was feeling. She was worried enough already without me adding to it.
“This whole thing scares me, Sandi. I feel better now that you’re involved.”
“Don’t worry, Dolly.” I needed to assure her, and myself, that I could take care of the situation. “I’m driving out tomorrow afternoon to talk to the cop who’s been handling it. I’ll know more then, and I’ll have a better idea of what to do. In the meantime, I gave Chrissy a couple of ideas about how to protect herself, and I suggested she find a self-defense class and learn more. Even without this guy coming around, it’s a good idea to know how to defend yourself.”
“I took a class like that a couple of years ago. It does give you more confidence.” Dolly surprised me sometimes.
“You did? Good for you.”
“I hope I never have to use the moves I learned in that class. I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone.”
“No, you wouldn’t want to do that.” I smiled at her.
“I can, you know. Hurt someone, that is. My age won’t stop me from protecting myself.”
I believed her. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”
“Well, I’d better go home. It’s getting late, and one of my shows is coming on TV soon. I love those police shows, you know.”
“Would you like to ride out to Covina with me tomorrow? I have to see that cop, but maybe we can stop and have some dinner. By that time, Chrissy should be home. You can visit with her while I take care of a few things.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you, Sandi. I’d love that.”
“Okay, we’ll leave around two-thirty. It’s not that long of a drive, but you never know about traffic, and I don’t want to miss this guy at the police department.”
“I’ll be ready and waiting.”
As Dolly left, the phone rang. It was Pete.
“Sandi, I’m glad you’re home.”
“Me, too. I didn’t want to miss your call. How are things going up there?”
“Not very well.” He sounded tired.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m staying at Rick’s cabin, so I dropped my stuff off and drove right up to Jack’s place.” Rick is Pete’s closest friend and always seems to be there when Pete needs him. He’s a homicide detective with L.A.P.D., and his cabin had come in handy one other time when Pete shot and killed a man, in self-defense, and he needed to get away for a few days.
“It looks like Jack was right. There was a man at the cabin with his wife, and they seemed pretty chummy. I stayed for quite a while, taking pictures and watching. Nothing happened while I was there though. It’s cold up here now, so they stayed indoors, but I could see them through the window. They hadn’t closed the curtains. Anyway, they were sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and talking.”
“That’s it?” Nothing juicy so far. “So what makes you feel like things aren’t going well?”
“Let me finish.”
“Sorry, go ahead.”
“Anyway, it looked like they got into an argument, but it didn’t last long or look like anything major. They didn’t talk to each other for a few minutes, but then they hugged and made up. You know how that goes.” Pete paused for a moment.
I loved the making up part after an argument. Pete and I didn’t have words often, but when we did it felt so good when it was over. That’s one of the things I like about Pete. He knows how to make a great apology.
“Okay, so there wasn’t anything going on, and I decided to take a break and go eat. I had a snack in the car, but I didn’t think I’d be missing much if I left for a while. Man, I could kick myself.”
“Pete, what happened?” His tone of voice and the kick myself comment had me worried. I knew he was going to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. Pete’s voice had a way of sounding tight when he was upset, and it sounded that way now.
“I left for about forty-five minutes. When I got back to the cabin, I got out of the car and took a walk around the perimeter of the house. I didn’t see the happy couple and decided to check the rest of the place out. The back door was standing open. It didn’t look right. Sometimes you get a feel for things, ya know? And this didn’t feel right. It was cold out, the door was open, and it seemed too quiet.
“I walked up to the door and took a look inside.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Both of them were on the kitchen floor – dead. Damn it! Maybe if I hadn’t left to eat, they’d both still be alive.”
“Oh, Pete, how could you know something would happen? You can’t blame yourself. Things were calm when you left.”
“I know, Sandi. I’m not really blaming myself. If it was gonna happen, then it was gonna happen. If someone was determined to kill them, that someone would have waited me out. I guess it didn’t matter when I left.”
“How were they killed?”
“Shot. She got it in the face, and apparently he turned to run, because he got it in the back of the head.
“Anyway, it looks like I’ll be tied up here for a while. The Sheriff’s Office wants me to stick around until they get a few things sorted out.”
“Do you think it could have been her husband? Jack did mention shooting them to you.”
“The first thing I did after calling the county sheriff was phone Jack. I had the same idea and wanted to be sure he was still in California. He was at his desk, working.”
“Well, at least we know it wasn’t Jack.”
“Yeah. So what about Dolly’s granddaughter?” I had a feeling he needed a temporary distraction, so I obliged and filled him in on what I knew so far.
“You be careful,” Pete warned. “This guy sounds like a nutcase. He could turn on you in a second.”
“I know. I’m going out tomorrow afternoon to talk to the cop who’s been handling the calls.”
Glancing at Bubba, I remembered the ghost.
“Oh yeah, I’ve got to tell you about the latest Stanley caper. You’re going to love this one.” I told Pete the ghost story, which made him laugh. Yeah, he needed the distraction. He didn’t even nag me about Bubba.
“Well, I’d better hang up,” Pete said. “I’m driving to the substation to see if they’ve made any progress. Things actually went smoother after the officer in charge found out I was an ex-cop. And I want to stop at the store and buy some food to bring back to Rick’s cabin with me.”
“Okay. Let me know what happens. Any idea when you might be back?”
“I don’t know right now. I’ll call you tomorrow night.”
“Make it later in the evening. I’ll be out at Chrissy’s.”
“Yeah.”
“I love you, Pete. Take care. Some bad guy with a gun is still out there.”
“I love you, too, Sandi.”
Uh oh. He’d said that too easily. That told me volumes about his state of mind. Pete rarely voices his feelings for me. I’m just supposed to know how he feels.
We hung up in time for me to notice Bubba standing at the bottom of the stairs, sniffing the air for all he was worth. He didn’t react this time when we heard a crash, except to turn and hurriedly head for the back door. Looking up the stairs, I decided it might be a good night to start letting Bubba sleep indoors, in the kitchen. I pulled his blanket
in, off the porch, and set him up in the corner.
I’d check the attic before going to bed. I was tired, but I needed to know what was going on.
Chapter Eleven
Glancing up the stairs in anticipation of what I might find, I quietly climbed the first step. It creaked loudly, so I gave up and quickly moved up the stairs, heading for the attic. I knew there was no such thing as a ghost, but I had no idea what to expect.
Opening the attic door, I pulled the chain on a simple overhead light I’d had installed and looked around. The window was open, so I tried to close it. It was an old window and I needed to replace the latch. It wouldn’t stay shut. The aging house was hard enough to heat without letting in more cold air.
There were two boxes lying on the floor. Just as I thought, they’d fallen. I’d carefully replaced all the boxes the previous night, so I wasn’t quite sure what had made them fall, but at least I knew what caused the noises. Instead of placing them back on the pile, I set them aside. They were filled with old tablecloths and other pieces of fabric. I knew nothing had broken.
I had no idea what might have caused the sound of a baby crying. It may have been Stanley’s imagination. He was a high-strung individual, after all.
After taking one last look around I turned off the light, closed the attic door and headed back downstairs.
I was about halfway to the second floor when I thought I heard a rustling sound coming from the attic. I stopped, but so did the noise. Stanley and Bubba were getting to me. Shaking my head, I walked the rest of the way down the stairs.
Feeling wound up and knowing I’d have trouble getting to sleep, I warmed some milk. Dolly told me it always helped her sleep. I took a sip, and discovering I didn’t like the drink warmed, quickly added chocolate. Bubba’s nose twitched when I got out the chocolate. He was already sleeping soundly, but hadn’t missed the distinctive aroma.
I turned out the downstairs lights and climbed the steps to my bedroom, hot chocolate in hand. Finishing my drink, I undressed and climbed between the too cool sheets. Someone had told me flannel sheets are comfortable, winter or summer. I’d have to buy some and try them.
It still amazed me when I thought about my great-great-great-grandparents building this house, and the fact that Grandma Merced had actually lived in it. I’d run across a few of her things in the attic, aside from her desk, including old clothes and family keepsakes. It’s hard to understand why no one had ever emptied the attic. I’d had quite the little treasure hunt when I started cleaning things out. There was a lot of junk, but buried beneath it had been some pretty interesting treasures. And I still had many more boxes to go through.
Drifting off, I thought about the attic. I was close to sleep when I heard a new noise overhead. Was it a mewing sound?
“Miss Kitty?” I mumbled. Yeah, that was it. Dolly’s cat had come in through the open window. That was Stanley’s ghost.
The next thing I knew it was morning and the alarm clock sounded aggravatingly loud. I sat up and stretched, immediately remembering my thought about Dolly’s missing cat, Miss Kitty.
Dialing my neighbor’s number, I waited for her to answer. I knew she frequently woke up quite early in the morning, apparently one of aging’s drawbacks.
She answered on the second ring. “H-Hello?” She sounded timid every time she answered the phone.
“Dolly, this is Sandi. Did Miss Kitty ever come home?” I was glad no one could hear me asking such a silly sounding question.
“As a matter of fact, she showed up last night. Thank you for asking.”
“Well, I think maybe I solved our ghost problem. Last night I checked out the attic, and the window was open. I have a feeling the cat may have been paying me a visit while Stanley was here. I just can’t figure out why big ol’ Bubba would be afraid of a little cat.”
“She didn’t break anything, did she? Of course, I’ll pay for any damage she did. Are you sure it was her?”
“No, Dolly, she didn’t break anything, and I have an idea about figuring out if it was her or not. I’ll let you know what I find. Let me call you back in a while.”
We hung up, and I headed for the bathroom to take my shower. Bubba could wait for his breakfast. Some watchdog he was turning out to be. A big dog like him afraid of a cat?
I finished cleaning up and climbed down the stairs, ready for breakfast. Bubba was waiting patiently by the back door, needing to take care of his doggie business. I opened the door to oblige him, and he lumbered down the steps. Glancing up at the sky I noticed clouds were moving in.
While my new sidekick was gone, I fixed myself some toast and a cup of hot tea. I was about to sit down when I heard him thump on the door. I let him in.
“You can wait until I finish eating for your breakfast.” He gave me a look, but I ignored him. “My toast and tea will get cold.”
He sat beside my chair, intently watching every move I made. Hand to toast, toast to mouth – he watched with an intensity in his eyes I’d never seen in an animal before. I continued to ignore him and didn’t move to get him food until I’d downed the last drop of tea.
“Now you can have your breakfast. We have to set up some ground rules about who’s in charge here. And it ain’t you, pal.”
While he ate, I heated water and made a second cup of tea. Sitting down at the table, I watched him inhale the food and wondered if he thought this might be his last meal. Maybe it was a thing dogs go through. Maybe instinct told them that every meal could be their last.
When he finished I picked up his bowl and rinsed it out, refilling it with water. I set it on the floor in the corner.
“Okay, Bubba. Let’s go.” He turned to me and grinned. Good grief, he really had huge teeth. Fortunately for him, my instincts about him were still positive.
“Um, come on, boy. We’re going up to the attic. You’ve got to get over your fear of cats.” He didn’t budge, but kept smiling at me.
“Now. Let’s go.” I’d bought him a collar at the store, and I pulled on it.
He stopped smiling and refused to budge, and I thought, Uh oh. Maybe he’s not as friendly as I thought. Now what?
Chapter Twelve
I’d made sugar cookies over the weekend. Grabbing one out of the jar, I held it out for him to see, but remained far enough away that he couldn’t reach it. His nose twitched.
“That’s it, follow the cookie,” I coaxed.
His nose twitched again and he stood up. I backed up a step. He stepped forward. I stepped back.
“Come on, pal. You want this cookie, don’t you?”
His eyes never wavered from the cookie as he followed me.
“Oooof!” I backed right into the doorframe, dropping the cookie and losing my balance. Bubba pounced on the cookie.
“You’re fast when you wanna be,” I said, rubbing my backside.
I retrieved another treat from the cookie jar, and we started the process all over again, but this time I was careful not to back into the doorframe. We made it to the stairs before Bubba had second thoughts.
I blew on the cookie, hoping the smell would entice him to keep coming. Something did. I don’t think it was the scent as much as the thought that I might eat the cookie before he could reach it.
I turned and started up the stairs, holding my hand with the cookie behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I grinned when I saw him following me. Looking back at the steps, I stopped cold when I felt Bubba’s mouth on my fingers. Uh oh.
I didn’t move a muscle as that silly dog ever-so-gently removed the cookie from my hand. He grinned at me in delight after swallowing the desert, and began licking the crumbs off my fingers.
“Not good manners. You slobber too much to be licking my fingers.” He started licking faster, as if he knew I was going to move my hand out of his reach.
“Okay, let me wash up and we’ll get this over with. And, no, you’re not going back downstairs. Stay here.”
He obeyed me, a surprise. Following me to the bathro
om, he waited patiently while I washed my paws. Uh, hands.
“Good boy.” I patted his head, wanting him to know he was back in my good graces. “Okay, let’s go to the attic. There’s nothing scary up there.”
I guess he believed me, because he followed right along. I opened the attic door, and Bubba stuck his head in and began sniffing. Apparently deciding there was nothing out of the ordinary, he followed me into the room. Big mistake. He started wagging his tail and boxes flew.
“Stop. You’re making a mess. Bubba, stop wagging your tail.” He looked at me and wagged harder.
“Out.” I pointed at the open door. He obeyed again and sat outside the door, still wagging his tail.
I sighed and picked up the boxes he’d knocked over. Then I sneezed. And sneezed and sneezed. The way the light shone through the window I could see cat hair floating through the air.
“Just as I… I… I…” achooooo! “…thought. Huh. Too much cat hair and dust up here.”
The window banged against the frame. Bubba looked past me, toward the window, and growled. I sneezed.
“Oh, for crying out loud. It’s only the wind.” I turned and walked to the window, looking outside. “Looks like a storm may be moving in.” The wind was picking up and the sky was dark.
“Well, anyway, the mystery is solved. No ghosts in this house. Understand?”
Bubba grinned at me, not knowing or caring what I was talking about. I had no idea a dog could be so cheerful. This was a whole new experience.
We’d started down the stairs when I heard the phone ringing. I moved a little faster and picked it up in my bedroom.
“Hello, dear. It’s your mother.”
“Hi, Mom. I recognized your voice. How are you and Frank?”
“Oh, we’re fine, honey. I just wanted to check in and see how things are going.”
My mother is a little pixie, at least in size. She’s about five feet even and weighs maybe one hundred ten pounds, with soft brown hair.
After many years as a widow, she met and married Frank Brewster. He retired, and the couple moved from Chicago to Bullhead City, Arizona.
