by Marja McGraw
“I’m about done. Most of these applications seem to be fine, although I did come across one gentleman who lied about having a criminal record. Not a major crime, but still – ”
“You do good work, Stan. Thank you. I’m going over to ask Dolly if she’ll feed Bubba for me tonight, and then I’m heading for Covina. You can lock up for me when you’re done here.”
“If you’d like, I can stay and feed the little fella,” Stanley offered. “It’ll be at least another hour and a half until I’m done.”
“Little fella?” That was a new description for the bear-sized animal I call my dog. “Are you sure? I know he makes you nervous.”
“Not anymore. Bubba and I are becoming quite good pals. I wouldn’t mind preparing his dinner at all.”
“Okay, I’ll run over to Dolly’s and bring him home. He can keep you company while you finish working.”
“Oh, and what should I do with Bubba when I leave?”
“Let him out the back door. He’ll take care of himself.”
I ran over to Dolly’s house – well, I actually walked – and brought Bubba home with me. Dolly said Tammi had worn the poor dog out, playing with him all day.
So with everything and everyone taken care of, I left for Covina and an unscheduled meeting with Doug Wilson. I wouldn’t allow him to put me off again.
I parked around the corner and walked back to Chrissy’s house, where I sat at the far end of the porch. I could see Doug’s house, but unless he was looking for me, he wouldn’t notice my presence. It was two-thirty, and he should be home from work around three o’clock.
While I waited I wondered if Becky might be home and if she was truly ill. If she was sick, I didn’t want to bother her.
Chrissy had wild roses growing by the side of her house. I picked one and sniffed it. Walking around to the back, I took a better look at the fruit trees than I’d been able to do at night. I spotted a perfect orange hanging from one of the trees and plucked it off to eat while I waited.
Turning back toward the front, I thought I saw curtain movement at the Wilson house. So Becky must be home. I tried to be nonchalant and turned my head as though I was looking at the other trees. I saw the curtain drop. Hmmm. Becky or Doug? Had to be Becky because the car wasn’t there.
I strolled past the far side of Chrissy’s house and returned to the porch, sitting down with my orange. Was Becky shy, or scared, or what? Did she know something about the murder? Doug said she was asleep when Frendd was killed. Maybe she’d been awake, and maybe she knew plenty. Maybe, just maybe, she was protecting her husband by not talking to anyone.
At three o’clock, Doug pulled into his driveway. Before I could reach him, Becky opened the front door and called to him. He looked in my direction and hightailed it into the house.
I ran next door and banged on their door. “Doug, open up. What’s going on? I thought you said you’d talk to me.”
“Go away,” he yelled through the door. He added something else, but I couldn’t hear him over the traffic noises.
I waited until the light on the corner turned red, traffic stopped, and things were quiet.
“I couldn’t hear you. What?”
“I said to go away. Come back tomorrow and we’ll talk.” He was still yelling at me through the closed door.
“Won’t you at least open the door?” I didn’t want to let this chance get away from me.
He opened it a crack and then slammed it. “No! Come back tomorrow, and I promise I’ll meet with you. Becky’s sick and I don’t want to talk right now.”
“Doug, I know there’s something going on. You can talk to me, or you can talk to the police. Your choice.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I promise. Be here right at three o’clock and I’ll be waiting. I want to take Becky over to her mother’s house and – ” The rest was cut off because the traffic light had turned green and the cars were moving.
“I’ll be back, and you’d better be home this time. Home and ready to talk. You hear me?”
I couldn’t tell if he replied or not.
I turned and left, walking down the street and around the corner to my car. You bet I’d be there at three. As a matter of fact, I’d be there at two o’clock, and this time I wouldn’t let Becky see me. This was too weird, and I was going to get to the bottom of it. Either Doug or Becky, or both of them, had information. And they were afraid to talk.
Chapter Fifty
The ride back to Los Angeles seemed longer than normal, probably because of my frustration. The traffic snarl didn’t help. I was heading home right about the time everyone was leaving work for the day. The L.A. freeways aren’t that great on a good day and at a good hour. At least I was heading toward Los Angeles instead of the other way with the commuters.
My evening would be free now. I thought about Pete and realized I hadn’t heard from him. He was probably busy, but I knew he’d call as soon as he could.
When I arrived home, Stanley had already left and Bubba was nowhere in sight. I walked through the house and opened the back door, finding the dog asleep under the barbeque table.
“Bubba, come in the house.”
He opened an eye and gave me a groggy look before pulling himself up and climbing the porch steps. It sure seemed like dogs take a lot of naps. I was learning a lot about the canine culture thanks to Bubba.
I dropped my backpack on the couch and sat down on the floor, slouching and leaning back against the cushions, legs straight out in front of me. I was wiped out, tired right to the bone.
Bubba sat and watched me for a moment before lying down and rolling over on his back.
“Guess you’re ready for some scratching, huh?” I reached over and ran my nails across his belly without a lot of enthusiasm. He wiggled around and let me know he wanted some serious attention.
“You brighten my day, you dumb ol’ dog.” I scratched with gusto for a few minutes. “Wish I had someone to scratch my belly. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
One minute I was rubbing Bubba’s belly, and the next the phone was ringing and I realized I’d fallen asleep.
I groaned as I stood up, realizing my little nap hadn’t been good for my neck or back, and answered the phone.
“Hello?” My voice came out muffled and sleepy.
“Sandi, it’s Pete. What were you doing? Your voice sounds funny. Were you sleeping?”
“Yes. It’s been a long day. So have you made any progress?” My mouth felt like it was full of cotton.
“You’re gonna love this.” He sounded like he was wired, his energy reaching right through the phone and touching me. “But let me start at the beginning. Remember I told you that one of the nurses was friendly toward me? And she told Baxter I was waiting to talk to him?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Well, I talked her into helping me. I had the nurse tell him I knew what he’d done. When he asked her what she was talking about, she said, ‘You know, that cabin up in the woods.’ Apparently she played her part well, even acting as though she was afraid to be alone in the room with him.”
“You probably inspired her.” My sarcasm was showing again. He ignored me.
“Okay, so anyway, the first words out of my mouth when I saw Baxter were, ‘Jack Gless says he’s not giving you an alibi.’ And then I added, ‘He says he knows you, but you’re just an acquaintance. He’s going to try to cover his ass while he leaves yours out to dry.’”
“You were that sure Gless was behind the murders?”
“I had no idea, but I figured it was worth a try. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would gain from the deaths.”
“What would Gless gain? Oh. Wait. Let me guess. Revenge plus no messy divorce, no alimony.”
“Exactly. Baxter was murder walking around on two feet and waiting to strike. Gless knew it and hired him. They’d met each other at a bar in Las Vegas when Gless was there attending some kind of insurance convention.”
“How did Baxter react
to what you said?” This was turning into a good story.
Pete started to laugh. “You have to remember, he was still pretty fuzzy, not thinking clearly. So he sang like a bird. Couldn’t get the words out of his mouth fast enough. He said he’s not taking the fall by himself, and Jack can go, uh, screw himself.”
“What’d the local cops say?”
“What could they say? I don’t think they were too happy about me butting in, but at least it’s one less crime for them to deal with, and when they found out how I got him to talk, they were okay with it. If I’d waited until the local cops got here and Baxter had time to think about things, he probably wouldn’t have given himself away.”
“Great job, Pete. When we talked before you said I’d given you an idea. What was that all about?”
“You were joking about getting him to confess, so I thought, well, why not? That’s all.”
“Ah. Glad I could help. What about Gless?”
“The L.A. cops have already picked him up. He’s not saying a word, from what I hear. I talked to Rick before I called you.”
“Is Rick getting involved in this one?” Of course, it was Rick Mason’s cabin that Pete was staying in while up at Tahoe, and Rick happened to be a homicide detective with Los Angeles Police Department, and Pete’s friend.
“No, but he checked it out because of my involvement.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I’ve got to meet with the locals tomorrow and give them my statement, and I’ll fly out tomorrow night.”
“I’ve missed you.” I knew I was tired when I said that because my voice sounded whiney.
“Let’s plan on dinner when I see you and after that… No, I might be in late, so why don’t we wait on dinner. I’ll come by the house though, as soon as I can.”
Pete and I talked about personal things for a few minutes, and by the time we hung up I knew he missed me, too. In fact, I felt pretty good – energized.
I glanced at the clock and saw it was already eight o’clock. I’d slept longer than I thought. I didn’t feel like cooking, and I didn’t feel like driving around town to buy some take-out, so I pulled a frozen dinner out of the freezer and heated it up.
“Blek. I hate these things,” I said to Bubba. His ears perked up as I spoke to him. “Oh well, it’ll fill that empty spot in my stomach.” He looked up at me as though trying to figure out my words.
While I ate I went over everything I knew about Frendd’s death. I got out the pad of paper where I’d listed the suspects and added some of the facts I’d come up with since writing down the names. It still didn’t make a lot of sense to me, and I wasn’t any closer to finding the killer. I simply couldn’t imagine any of the people on the list committing a murder. Of course, I reminded myself, I didn’t know any of them personally, and I only had their word to go on.
The only one I positively believed was innocent, was Chrissy.
Chapter Fifty-one
I thought about Pete’s case. He’d had a gut feeling about Gless, and he’d paid attention to that and found a killer. Did I have a gut feeling? In a way. I knew there was something going on at the house next door to Chrissy’s, but I had no idea what. My best guess was that they’d seen something, or someone, and they were afraid to talk. Becky would most likely be the one who’d seen something, because Doug was trying to keep her away from me. I was sure of it. He was definitely a nosey guy, but his wife was more important to him than being in the thick of things.
Crash!
That’s impossible, I thought. I boarded up the window. No one can get in now.
Bubba was already sniffing the air while I headed for the stairs, and as I grabbed my backpack and started up the steps I heard him whining and scratching at the back door. A lot of help he was.
I pulled my gun out of the backpack while racing up the steps, dropping the bag as I ran. I didn’t know what good a gun would do against a ghost, but I knew I needed protection. Wait! There were no ghosts. A gun could protect me.
I stopped at the door to the attic, took a deep breath and threw it open, pulling the gun up in front of me and slowly swinging it from right to left and back again, steadying it with my left hand under the side of my right hand.
I didn’t detect movement, so I inched forward and pulled the chain for the ceiling light. It blinded me after standing in the dark. I squinted and moved the gun back and forth again.
Nothing. No one. But there was a box on the floor, full of broken wine glasses. I moved it out of the way and checked the board I’d nailed to the window frame. Still in place.
I lowered the gun. What was going on? A baby started to cry, the sound building in volume until it was practically screaming. It was coming from the walls.
I ran out of the attic and slammed the door, ran down the stairs and out to the kitchen where I opened the door and let Bubba out, following close behind him.
I breathed in and out, trying to catch my breath. My nerves were shot. I glanced up toward the attic. I could see the top edge of the window and realized I’d forgotten to turn out the light. There was the slightest glimmer showing around the edges of the board I’d nailed up. I couldn’t hear the baby crying from the back yard. Thankfully.
I hope Dolly’s still up, I thought.
Bubba and I stood on her back porch, waiting for her to answer my knock. “It’s going to be okay, and I’ve changed my mind. You’re not a weenie dog, after all. I’m scared, too.” I could deal with things I could see, but this was different.
“Who’s there?” I saw Dolly moving the curtain aside to look out the window while turning on the outside light.
“It’s me. Sandi. Can we come in? Please?” My voice sounded shaky.
“Sandi,” she said, opening the door. “What’s wrong? You sound terrible.”
“Can we come in?” I repeated. “There’s something up in the attic again.”
She moved out of the way and motioned us in. “What do you mean? I thought you put a board over the window. Come sit down at the table, and I’ll fix you a cup of hot tea.” Dolly was one of those people who thought tea would cure anything, including fear.
“Where’s Miss Kitty? I never see her when I bring Bubba over.”
“Now, Sandi – ”
“No,” I added quickly. “I don’t mean I think it’s her in the attic. I meant I never see her anymore.”
“Well, she’s started hiding when the big lug is around, although she’s begun to stick her head out from under the couch once in a while.”
She must have heard us talking about her. Miss Kitty made an appearance at the kitchen door, tail held high, and strolled in like she owned the place. She strode right past Bubba as if to tell him to go jump in a lake. He grinned at her, giving her a little woof. She turned and ran back out of the room.
“If he’d quit making noises at her, she’d be okay. That’s the third time he’s scared her off. I think it’s a game to him.”
I took a deep breath. The animals’ interaction had helped me start to settle down. It was so – normal. Kind of like watching kids play.
Dolly cleared her throat. “Sandi, I’ve been doing some reading up on cats. Did you know that when they’re in their mating season they sometimes make a noise that sounds like a baby crying?”
“They do?” I’d never heard that before. “But how could cats get inside my walls? I don’t think it could be cats.”
“Remember, you live in an old house. Maybe there’s another opening somewhere. It makes more sense than having ghosts in your attic.”
Or bats in my belfry. “But Miss Kitty is here with you. It couldn’t have been her.”
“Well. Miss Kitty isn’t the only cat in this neighborhood, you know. Half the old ladies on this block have cats.”
“I love you, Dolly. Your common sense should be bottled and sold.” I took a sip of the tea she had placed in front of me.
She smiled self-consciously. “I’m telling you what I read about cats. You’ll ha
ve to figure the rest out for yourself.”
“A cat could have knocked over the boxes I found on the floor, but I wonder why they’d scare Bubba. Miss Kitty doesn’t seem to bother him.” I took another sip of the tea. “And you were right; this drink is calming me down.”
We sat and chatted, drinking our tea. I asked her how the girls were doing and she was off and running, telling me how Tammi loved staying with her and what a great time she was having with her family. She also informed me that Chrissy had taken a week’s vacation while she tried to decide what her next move would be. Since Chrissy couldn’t drive Tammi to school in Covina every day, she’d made arrangements to take Tammi out of school for that same week.
“Well, Dolly, I’m going home now. I’m tired, and now that we’ve got this cat thing figured out, I know I’ll be able to sleep. Thanks for your hospitality.”
“It’s the least I can do with everything you’re doing for Chrissy and Tammi. You’re a good girl, Sandi.”
If she kept telling me that, I might eventually begin to believe it. At the moment I felt like a weenie girl.
Time to go home and face up to my cat situation. If that’s what it was.
Things had quieted down and I went to bed. Before drifting off to sleep, I recalled seeing something white and filmy floating out of the attic window.
So much for feline felons.
Chapter Fifty-two
There were no more noises during the night, except for the ones in my dreams. Bubba stayed by the side of my bed.
I awoke feeling like a new and determined woman. Today was the day I was going to talk to Doug and find out what was going on. He wouldn’t have the chance to brush me off again. Like Pete, I was about to solve my case. I could feel it in my bones. I hoped my bones were right.
I let Bubba outside and turned on my coffee maker before returning upstairs. I took my shower, dried my hair and worked it into a French braid, and even took a few extra minutes to indulge and add blush and eyeliner before applying mascara. I seldom wore much more than lipstick and mascara, but I felt good and wanted to look it.
