Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  A block from Ruby’s house, I gave Daisy a command to lie down and stay. “Try to look depressed, Daisy.” I spoke in a boo-hoo tone and she dropped her head on her paws and sighed. The rest of the way down the street I kept saying, “Oh, poor, poor Daisy. She’s so sad. So, so sad.”

  Ruby was waiting outside her cottage, arms crossed, dressed in ratty, gray sweats. I had no idea she owned anything so ugly.

  Daisy’s tail thumped and she started to sit up. “No, Daisy. Lie down. Remember, you’re so, so sad.”

  Her tail froze and she whined forlornly and collapsed.

  Ruby got in and I blurted without thinking, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  “No, it’s not what I’m wearing. It’s an optical illusion,” she said rather churlishly. “Geez Louise! We’re going to the dog park. Should I have worn my tiara?”

  “No, I’m just surprised, that’s all. I’ve never seen you dressed so... casually.”

  “Well, get used to it. I’m stuck with 350 bucks worth of E-Z Lips. This could bankrupt me and pretty soon K-Mart sweats will be all I can afford.”

  Daisy whimpered in the back seat for attention, and Ruby twisted to see her. “You look fine to me.”

  Daisy lost it and attempted to leap over the front seat, but her tether held her back. So much for obedience.

  “That’s because she loves her sweet grandma,” I said. “Just seeing you has perked her up.”

  Daisy stood up on the seat, wagging her tail in agreement. I could hear her tongue lapping air-kisses at Ruby.

  “Yes, I love you, too.” Ruby reached around to scratch Daisy’s head. “Drive slow, Katy. George’s on duty and he’s got a new radar gun.”

  I drove a sedate fifteen mph past the empty security booth. George is the skinny, nerdy head of Shady Acres security and is on a perpetual crime-stopper-power-trip. He loves reporting me to the office, who in turn report me to Ruby, who in turn yells at me.

  “Watch out! There’s that sneaky son-of-a-gun.” Ruby was pointing at the bushes lining the right side of the road.

  George was crouched in a Bougainvillea bush aiming the radar gun at us, looking like he was about to holler, “Freeze, turkey!”

  I slowed to five mph as Ruby rolled down the window. “You better be careful, George. With those knobby old knees of yours, you could get a leg cramp.” She rolled the window back up. “Not to mention a bunch of thorns in his skinny butt.”

  I watched George in the rearview mirror, wrestling the bush to de-snag his sleeves and pants. Thank goodness it was just a radar gun that he was waving around like crazy or Veronica would have been riddled with holes.

  Ruby turned her attention back to me. “So what are all these important errands that can’t wait?”

  “Business. I am swamped with work. Wow. It is cr-aa-zy.”

  “You’re lucky to have work in this crappy economy.” She was quiet for a few minutes, probably worrying about her E-Z Lips. “Maybe I need to get a job. I’m sick of being an independent salesperson.” She shifted in her seat to face me. “Maybe I could help you.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I could be your assistant. Run errands for you, type up invoices, get coffee.”

  Was she kidding or was she serious? I didn’t know how to play this. “Uh, I don’t think I’m that busy.” Immediately, I knew that came out wrong.

  She harrumphed and turned away to stare out the window.

  “I mean, I’m doing okay, but I can’t afford an executive assistant yet.” I did not want Grandma Ruby as my “Gal Friday.”

  Mollified by the word “executive,” she sat up straighter. “I gotta think of something.” She paused a moment. “Say, how’s your dreamboat neighbor? Anything going on yet?”

  No way was I ready to get into that discussion, so I said, “I’ll keep you posted.” Not a lie, an omission. Big difference.

  She sat back and didn’t say another word until we got to Lago Park. I parked and Daisy’s tail thumped a drum solo on the backseat as I untethered her.

  “I’ll get you guys settled and then I’ll dash,” I said as Daisy dragged me to the gate.

  Ben was on a bench, engrossed in his needlepoint. Ruby scurried to catch up with me.

  “Psst! Katy!” she whispered. “Look at that old man over there.”

  I played dumb. “What old man?”

  “The weirdo with the goatee doing embroidery on the bench over there. He must be gay.”

  “It’s needlepoint,” I corrected her. “And he’s not gay.” Oops.

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve talked to him once or twice. He’s nice. I’ll introduce you.”

  Her eyes narrowed and I could see she was suspicious. “Why are you giving me that look?” I scooted her and Daisy through the gate and marched them over to Ben without waiting for an answer.

  “Hey, Ben. This is my grandma. She’s going to babysit Daisy while I run some really important business errands.”

  Ben set his needlepoint aside and stood up, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh, my goodness. Where are my manners?” I drawled like a Georgia peach. “Ruby, this is Ben. Ben, this is Ruby.” I released Daisy and handed the leash to Grandma. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this is a set-up.” Ruby shifted into her own vocal version of Scarlett O’Hara. “But I know my darlin’ Katy would never do something so underhanded as that to her dear old grandmother.”

  Ben saved me with his good manners. “Then we’ll just call this a happy serendipity.” His eyes traveled to my black and blue neck. “My God, Katy. What happened to you? Who did this?”

  I knew he was remembering all of those wife-beaters he’d defended. “It’s not what you’re thinking, but it’s a long story and I’m really in a hurry and—”

  “You skedaddle and I’ll tell Ben what happened.” Ruby settled on the bench.

  I pecked her cheek. “Thanks. I won’t be long.” I hightailed it out of there, shouting over my shoulder, “I’ll be back as soon as I get my important business done.”

  I pointed Veronica in the direction of the mall for the shoe sale, hoping to score 95% off some Jimmy Choos. One could always hope.

  I was driving on the narrow side road that runs along a few acres of strawberries valiantly growing between the shopping mall and the freeway. The radio was blasting 80’s oldies and I was singing along to “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” when I was nearly catapulted out of my seat by a hard rear-end thud. Veronica bounced and narrowly missed going into the drainage ditch. My first thought was I had a flat tire—more like a tire explosion. I stopped on the shoulder of the road, put the car in park, and took a moment to collect myself before getting out to inspect the tires. I looked in the mirror to check for oncoming traffic and saw another blue Prius, sitting about ten yards back.

  My heart started pounding as my brain went on high alert. I nervously laughed at myself. “Get a grip, Katy. It’s a harmless little Prius, for gosh sake. Gangsters do not drive Priuses. Especially pretty sky-blue ones.”

  I checked the mirror again and the car’s front bumper was badly damaged. Had they rear-ended me?

  “Crap.” I shouted and banged the steering wheel. I tried to put a plausible spin on what was going on. Maybe they don’t have insurance, and now they’re waiting to see what I’ll do. So there’s no point in even trying to talk to them because I’ll still have to pay the deductible if there’s any damage.

  I gripped the wheel. “Okay, I’m way overthinking this. I’m just going to get out of here.” I put Veronica in drive and pressed the gas. I peeped in the mirror and saw the Prius was coming up fast.

  “Oh, shit.” I stomped on the gas and Veronica laid rubber, careening down the narrow road with the Prius sniffing her tail. Less than a quarter of a mile further was a metal barricaded dead end, and no way out except for a three point u-turn. Coming up on my left was the final turn into the
mall parking lot. I had to take it, but knew I was going too fast to make it without flipping the car. I slowed and my rear bumper took another hit from the Prius.

  “What’s up with this guy?” I screamed. Unlike me, Veronica didn’t lose her cool. She took the turn, keeping her tires pinned to the ground, and we sped into the parking lot with the Prius in hot pursuit.

  We raced past shops, department stores, and big box stores, whipping around light posts and honking at pedestrians who dashed out of the way, angrily waving their fists and flipping out their cell phones to take videos. “Call the freaking cops, you idiots!” I shouted.

  Several times the Prius from hell closed in on me and rammed my Volvo, causing my seat belt to snap me back hard against the seat. It didn’t release and I could barely breathe, but still that damned blue car kept coming at me. I was heading down an aisle that led to a towering, concrete fountain in an outdoor pedestrian plaza in front of Barnes and Noble. The turn at the end of the aisle was sharp–doable at ten mph, but not at forty-five. People saw me coming and scattered. Crashing into the fountain wouldn’t be in my best interest, so I hit the brakes hard and prepared for major whiplash. My pursuer must have come to the same conclusion and hit his brakes, too, then spun his wheels in the opposite direction, squealing around a meridian and out of sight.

  I ignored the hostile glares from the plaza people and drove to the opposite end of the mall and parked under a tree near Bed, Bath & Beyond between a minivan and a SUV. I turned off the engine, grabbed my purse, and jumped out, crouching on the other side of the minivan, waiting and hyperventilating.

  A Chihuahua in the minivan’s driver seat yipped nonstop, as if screaming, “Hey, killer Prius, she’s over here!” and a couple of people passing by gave me funny looks, but the Prius was a no-show.

  I waited a full five minutes before getting up the nerve to check my car’s rear end. There were blue-smeared dents in the chrome bumper but no body damage. I knew the damage to the other car would be extensive, and that gave me some satisfaction, but why had someone tried to hurt me? Thinking back over the last few hours, I counted up the sightings and realized they’d been stalking me. Due to its tinted windows, I had no idea if it were a man or a woman behind the wheel, and I’d been too rattled to even think about license plates.

  I thought about calling the police, but then what? An evil blue Prius had stalked me all over town for who-knows-why, a report would be filed, and I would still have to pay the damned deductible.

  In the meantime, I needed to calm down before picking up Ruby. Shoe shopping was out of the question, but a strong dose of caffeine would help. As luck would have it, a Starbucks was two doors down from the linen store. I sat outside in a shaded corner of the patio, sipping my double espresso while scanning the parking lot for blue Priuses. I counted three parked close by and surreptitiously glanced around at my fellow java junkies. No one appeared to be watching me watching them. In fact, I was the only one not staring at a cell phone, a tablet, or a laptop.

  Eventually my heart rate settled down, while the coffee cleared my head enough to think rationally. I tried to conjure up a reasonable motive for what had happened. In all likelihood, it was just some wacko with anger issues. Maybe I’d cut them off earlier in the day without realizing it. I know there’s been times I’ve been mad enough to chase after people and slam into them but not weird enough to actually do it.

  Ruby and Ben were deep in conversation and didn’t acknowledge my approach until I was practically standing in front of them. Daisy was passed out under the bench and Ruby had Ben’s red cardigan draped over her shoulders. Ahhh.

  “Hey, guys. I’m back.”

  Daisy wagged her tail but made no effort to get up. Guess she’d had a good workout.

  “There she is,” Ben said. “How’s our girl?”

  Yes. My plan had worked. Was it too soon to call Ben Grandpa?

  “Well, it’s about time,” Ruby scolded. “It got chilly and this poor man had to lend me his sweater. What took you so long?”

  I didn’t want to worry her about my freaky car-chase, so I made a big show of looking at my watch. “It’s only been an hour or so.”

  “Did you get all your important errands done?”

  “Almost.”

  She stood and returned Ben’s sweater. “Thanks for letting me use it.”

  “My pleasure.” He winked at me.

  I leashed Daisy and started for the gate. Ruby lagged behind and I heard her say, “I look forward to tomorrow.”

  What? I stopped and listened.

  “I’ll pick you up at five,” Ben replied. “That’ll give us plenty of time for dinner before the concert.”

  What? I spun around.

  “Benny’s has great early-bird senior specials,” said Ruby in a coquettish tone.

  No! Not liver and onions. So not romantic.

  “I have something a little nicer in mind,” said Ben.

  Thank God.

  “Well... Until then,” said Ruby, toodling her fingers at him.

  I drove my suddenly giddy-girlish granny home, while constantly checking my rearview mirror for rogue Priuses, and at her door she invited me in for a glass of wine. After a long drink of water, Daisy sagged in a pooped-out heap in the living room.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to wear,” Ruby said as she poured two Pinot Grigios.

  “Let’s take a look at your clothes and I’ll help you pull an outfit together,” I said, remembering the Viking had said I was stylish.

  She shook her head in doubt. “I don’t know if I’ve got anything.”

  Ruby’s closet is the entire second bedroom of her house. She keeps up with the trends while keeping it age-appropriate and classic. The age she has determined appropriate for her seventy-four years is fifty-ish. It works.

  We spent the next hour trying on various outfits. The keepers I set aside for further consideration.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date and I want to look absolutely fabulous.” She sat on a silk brocade slipper chair by the window. “Especially after Ben seeing me in those.” She kicked at the sweatpants lying on the floor. “How could you have let me wear sweats?”

  Because I couldn’t let you know I was setting you up. “You know what? You need something new. Nordstrom is having a sale.”

  “I can’t go shopping. I’m almost destitute.” She slumped in the chair, surrounded by a multitude of lovely ensembles that had not passed muster.

  “Just this one time, okay? This is an emergency.”

  “You’re right.” She stood up and pulled her sweat pants back on.

  “How about first thing in the morning? It’s getting late and I’m tired and Daisy hasn’t had her dinner.”

  “Okay.” She gathered me in for a hug. “That was pretty darn shifty of you, kiddo. Setting me up with Ben like that.”

  I gave her a contrite grin. “I know.”

  “No matter what happens, I forgive you. But don’t think I’ve forgotten about your promise to meet Duke.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  DEAD GIRLS DON’T BLOG

  FRIDAY • MAY 3

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Monday, April 22—Part Three

  After leafing rupee—no, I mean LEAVING RUBY surrounded by a mountain of first bait—no, FIRST DATE—jeez—what is wrong with this thing? Darn it! I forget what I was saying, or yeah—FIRST DATE REJECTS, I rowed home—crap—keeping my eyes peeled for menacing rude Princesses—no, I mean, Pri-us-es—blue ones, darn it—I so hate this dictating app! It was working fine before! Okay, calm down. I have to speak slooowly and eenunceeaaate. Let me try again.

  After leaving Ruby surrounded by a mountain of “first date” rejects, I drove home, keeping my eyes peeled for menacing blue Priuses. I took a few quick, evasive turns just in case. Once satisfied I wasn’t being tailed, I turned onto Sycamore Lane. Rolling down the quiet, tree-lined street, I saw Josh-the-Viking getting out of his BMW. He didn’t see me
and I wasn’t ready to see him. I pulled into the garage and hit the garage door remote as soon as Veronica had cleared the door. Then I remembered I needed to pick up my birth control pills at the pharmacy (like I really need those—ha, ha), so I let Daisy into the backyard, figuring that would give Josh enough time to get into his house before I backed out again.

  When I got home, Daisy did not greet me when I entered the house through the garage door, so I figured she was in the yard attending to business.

  In the fridge, a bottle of Chamisal Stainless Chardonnay was calling, make that screaming, my name. My plan was to veg out on the couch, savoring my wine and the second to last episode of Frantic Hausfraus. I poured a glassful and set it on the coffee table, queued up the show, and then checked to see if Daisy was ready to come in, but she was still busy in the bushes.

  There’d been no sign of Tabitha, so I went looking for her because I wanted everyone settled before the show started.

  “Tabby. Where are you, sweetie?” I called as I walked down the hall toward my bedroom. I figured I’d find her cat-napping on my bed but no luck.

  “Come on. Where are you?” I heard a muffled mewing but didn’t see her. I pulled back the blankets on my unmade bed, that’s right, unmade—and no Tabitha. She called again and I realized she was in the closet. I opened the door to a very unhappy cat. “Poor baby. Did Mommy leave you in the closet all this time?” I scooped her up and cuddled her. “I am so, so sorry. What a bad mommy you have.” Her fur was up and she was moaning low. “How about a little dinner? That should make you feel better.” I carried her to the kitchen, and when I put her down to fill her bowl, she darted out of the room, presumably to sulk. “When you’re ready to forgive me, I’ll be in the living room.”

  Daisy still hadn’t returned, so I sat on the couch to wait and impatiently sipped my wine. I’ll just watch the intro rehash and then we’ll settle in.