While She Slumbered: The Murder Blog Mysteries #5

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  “What’re you waiting for?” snapped Donna, heading to the porch steps. “Let’s get him in the house before he gets away from you.”

  I struggled to a sitting position. Snickers had gone limp, so I was able to stroke his body. “I’m so sorry. I know how scared you must be.”

  Donna had the front door open. “Come on!”

  My back was to her and I yelled over my shoulder, “Not until you tell me the dog door is closed.”

  The screen door slammed. I got to my feet and climbed the steps to the porch.

  Donna returned. “It’s closed. Give me the cat.”

  I tightened my grip on Snickers. “I can bring him in.”

  “Donnnaaa!” called Nina from the bathroom. “I’m freezing. Where are you?”

  “Coming, Auntie!” She snapped her fingers at me. “Cat, please? Hurry up. My aunt needs to get out of the tub.”

  I reluctantly handed over the miserable feline. “Please tell Nina I’ll drop by later for a visit.”

  “Not a good idea.”

  A split second later, I was staring at the mahogany wood door.

  Chapter NIne

  Wednesday • June 10

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  It seems like all I’m posting about lately is Nina. I’m probably worrying way too much. If I had a job, or a life, I’d have other things to blog about.

  Nina is an early riser. Usually she’s puttering in her yard by eight. I figured that since she was feeling well enough to take a bath yesterday, she might be out this morning. I got halfway to the sidewalk and remembered the FitTrim. After strapping it on, I started again for Nina’s.

  I decided to loop around the block to rack up some steps. Passing by Josh’s, I did a visual check. Everything looked in order. The cool morning air was invigorating, and I zipped along, thinking about my annoying experience with Donna yesterday. No wonder Nina was ready for her to go home just one day after she had arrived. So far, that woman has not earned any Brownie points with me.

  I arrived at Nina’s garden gate in record time. I didn’t see my friend in the yard, so I rapped on the door—praying she’d be the one who answered.

  The door opened and Donna took one look at me and rolled her eyes, not even attempting to hide her irritation. “Your little friend isn’t up yet. And before you ask, the answer is no. Her cold is worse and she can’t come out and play today.”

  I held out my hand to stop the inevitable slammed door. “Wait! You say her cold is worse? Do you think she has bronchitis? Maybe she should see her doctor.”

  Donna tilted her head and spoke to me like I’m a moron. “It’s just a rotten cold. Nothing more. If I think she needs to see a doctor, I will take her.” She began to close the door. “So go home and mind your own business.”

  While cussing up a storm, I poured a cup of coffee, dumped in three teaspoons of sugar, a splash of half and half, and a squirt of whipped topping. Still madder than hell, I went out on the front porch and slumped on the glider to call Sam.

  “Hey, what’re you up to?” she said.

  “Not much. How about you?”

  “Trying not to throw up.”

  My pregnant buddy sounded pathetic.

  “That sounds fun. Not. Does that mean you’re not up for going to lunch? There’s something I want to pick your brain about.”

  “I’ll be fine by then, but Casey will be with us. So it won’t be a leisurely lunch. I have a long list of errands to do afterwards, anyway.”

  An hour later, Sam tooted her car horn in the driveway. I opened the passenger door and got a surprise when I saw her.

  “I thought you were growing your hair out. You finally had the sides covering your ears, which is the hardest part when growing out short hair.”

  She ruffled the top. “It was driving me nuts. Last night while getting ready for bed, I thought I’d just trim the sides a little. The next thing I knew, there was a bunch of hair in the sink.”

  “You did a good job.” I said.

  “Meh. I called your mom this morning and made an appointment to clean it up and freshen the blond.”

  Before buckling in, I turned to say hi to her six-year-old son.

  “Hi, Auntie Katy,” he said solemnly.

  “Hey! What’s up, Gloomy Gus?”

  “I’m not Gus. I’m Casey! And I want to go to the park, not do dumb errands.”

  “We can’t always do what we want. Hey! We’ll have fun because we’re together.”

  Sam put the car in gear. “First stop, lunch.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “Benny’s.”

  “I wanna go to McDonald’s!” said Casey. “We never get to go there.”

  Sam calmly said, “We’re going to Benny’s because you can get a grilled cheese and I can get a salad. And Aunt Katy doesn’t eat burgers.”

  “I hate grilled cheese.”

  I looked at Sam, silently mouthing, “Since when?”

  She shook her head with a “who-knows” look. “Then you can get a burger or a PBJ, Casey.”

  “McDonald’s!” yelled the six-year-old.

  “One,” said Sam.

  He kicked the back of my seat hard. “McDonald’s!”

  “Two.”

  A softer kick, and he mumbled, “McDonald’s.”

  “Two-and-a-half.”

  The kid clammed up.

  I was dying to find out what would have happened if she had said, “Three.”

  Before launching into my Nina concerns, I waited until our lunches arrived. Sam usually reads my blog at bedtime, so the only encounter she didn’t know about was this morning’s. I briefed her on that and finished with, “What do you think I should do?”

  Sam had just forked a big bite of romaine lettuce dripping in Ranch into her mouth, so I had to wait for her to chew and swallow. “How many days since Donna arrived?”

  “A week ago Monday.” I counted on my fingers. “Nine days.”

  “The last time you saw Nina was at your Sunday brunch? Right? So it’s only been three days since you’ve talked to her. She was fine then, right?”

  “She was tired and coming down with a cold.”

  “I’m tired, too. But I’m coming down with a baby.”

  “Aunt Katy?” mumbled Casey through a mouthful of grilled cheese. “I’m too tired to run errands.”

  “You probably need a very long nap,” I said.

  His face lit up and he giggled. “Just kidding! I’m not really tired.”

  We were seated by a window that overlooked the busy street. “Wow, Casey. Check out that truck driving by. It’s huge.”

  “I’m gonna be a truck driver when I grow up, and drive a big truck just like that one,” he said.

  “I thought you were going to be a firefighter.”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “And a truck driver.”

  I reached across the table and tousled his blond hair. “What was I talking about, Sam?”

  “You’re worried about Nina.”

  “Right. I haven’t seen her since Sunday, but I did hear her calling from the bathroom yesterday.”

  “Then you know she’s okay. Nina is in her eighties and she’s got a bad cold. So it is understandable why Donna keeps putting you off. But I gotta say, she is a real b-i-t-c-h.”

  “Ummm,” said Casey. “You said a bad word, Mom.”

  “Spelling it doesn’t count, Mr. Smarty Pants,” she said.

  “But why won’t Donna let me see her?” I wiped the wet ring under my water and drank half the glass.

  “Uh, because Nina is under the weather and is resting a lot?” she said.

  I scowled at her.

  “Don’t give me that look.”

  “Yeah, Aunt Katy. Mom will put you in time out.” Casey pushed his plate away. “I’m done eating. Can we go now?”

  “Not until Aunt Katy and I are done talking.” Sam pulled a coloring book and crayons from her bottomless mommy-purse. “Color me something pretty.”

&nb
sp; I continued. “My intuition tells me something is not right.”

  “I think you’re looking for trouble where there isn’t any.”

  I didn’t like her answer, but I pondered it while I sipped my chocolate milkshake. “You’re probably right. This is what happens when you have nothing going on in your life. You overthink everything.”

  “After all your horrible adventures, I can understand why you would worry. I also believe we should pay attention to our intuition. So, while I think you have nothing to worry about, I do think it would be a good idea to write everything down. In chronological order. Just in case this does turn into something.”

  “I have. In my blog.”

  “I mean a timeline from day one. On paper. No goofy stuff like in your blog. Just the facts.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “I can do that. Then what?”

  “Keep trying to see her, and in another week or so, if that woman is still putting you off, then I’d say it’s time to do something,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like call social services.”

  Evening

  * * *

  I did what Samantha suggested. Wrote a timeline, starting from the day I met Donna. On paper, it didn’t appear to add up to much. As things occur, I will continue to update the timeline.

  Chapter Ten

  Thursday • June 11

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Breakfast with Ruby

  Benny’s two days in a row! Lucky me!

  * * *

  “Scrambled eggs. Hash browns—crispy. Rye toast—extra toasty,” I said to our server, Sheila, who looked years beyond qualifying for Medicare.

  “Coffee? Orange juice?”

  “Coffee with cream, please.” I checked the sugar packet caddy. “I’ll need more sugar, too.”

  “You got it.” She grabbed the menus and said to Ruby, “I love your glasses. Be right back with your beverages.”

  Ruby took off her turquoise cheaters that hung on a southwestern-style beaded chain around her neck.

  “Lately, you seem to have a pair of glasses to match every outfit,” I said.

  “There’s a site online that has the cutest cheaters and chains for cheap. I figured that since I can’t read a darned thing without them, and I’m always searching for them, I might as well make them a fashion accessory.” She waited while Sheila placed our drinks on the table. “How’s Nina doing?”

  “Did you read yesterday’s blog?”

  Ruby sipped her black coffee and grimaced. “Wonder how many hours this has been sitting on the burner.” She dribbled some cream into her cup. “I did read your blog.”

  “Then you’re up to date.”

  “With Nina’s history of pneumonia, she needs to be careful. When I was a little girl, my uncle Harold died from it. Aunt Eloise found him. Dead. In his recliner. She’d just got home from the annual Tupperware Jubilee in Florida. She was a top seller and made scads of money. I remember when she showed me the mink coat she’d earned.” She shook her head with a wistful look. “I was only ten, but I knew I’d found my calling.”

  “So multilevel sales is in your DNA. That explains all the marketing schemes you’ve gotten into. Like E-Z Lips Stencils.”

  “Oh, God. Don’t remind me. What a fiasco.” She sighed. “Uncle Harold had contracted polio as a child, so he walked with crutches, but it never slowed him down. Such a delightful man. He was only fifty-six.” She cleared her throat. “Anyhoo, considering Nina’s age, I applaud her niece for taking good care of her.” She took a swallow of coffee. “Yuck. You may have noticed I brought my laptop.”

  “I noticed. What’re you up to? As if I can’t guess.”

  She placed the computer on the table and slipped her glasses back on. “Maybe we’ll find you a charming prince.” She scooted over and patted the empty seat next to her. “Sit here and take a look at your profile.”

  “You’re kidding. You set up my profile?” Feeling a little miffed, I shoved my silverware across the table and moved to her side of the booth.

  “Somebody’s got to get the ball rolling. You can change it if you don’t like it.”

  Sheila set our meals on the table. “Anything else I can get you girls?”

  “Tabasco would be great,” said Ruby.

  She extracted a bottle from her apron. “Enjoy.”

  Ruby scrolled on the track pad and clicked a couple times. She’d used my Facebook photo. I read my profile while she doused her eggs with hot sauce.

  I love sunset walks on the beach. “No, I don’t. It’s usually too cold.”

  I like a man who can make me laugh. “Oh, brother.”

  I’m a glass-half-full kind of gal. “I guess. Maybe.”

  I enjoy going out and staying in. “At least I’m flexible.”

  Feeling a tension headache coming on, I opened a grape jelly packet and spread the contents on my toast.

  “Look! You already have three messages.” She clicked the first one. “Okey-dokey. Let’s see what Groovy Guy has to say.”

  “The fact that he calls himself Groovy Guy is a big enough turnoff for me. And he looks like he’s in his fifties.”

  She read his tagline out loud. “Loves music, loves to dance.”

  I dropped my toast on the plate. “Where do I know that line? And why is it giving me chills?”

  “Because we both read the book years ago. It’s a Mary Higgins Clark about a serial killer who uses personal ads to lure his victims. Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. I wonder if this guy realizes this.”

  “We’ll never know. Moving on. This next one is from Steve McDreamy.” She was silent for a moment. “Never mind.”

  “Hold on. I want to read what McDreamy said. I want to be your friend. Do you like friends with benefits?” I wrinkled my nose. “He’s got a mullet.”

  “Here’s one more. You know what they say.” She crossed her fingers. “Third time’s the charm.”

  Shaking my head, I slowly closed the laptop. “I’m sorry, Grandma, but you have to admit, this is a little weird. Even for you.”

  She picked up her coffee, then set the cup down, looking contrite. “All right. I screwed up.”

  “I know you want me to be happy.” I searched for words that wouldn’t hurt her. “Here’s the thing. I am happy. Yeah, I don’t have a love life at the moment, but I don’t need a man to be a happy, contented person. I never have. I have an amazing family.” I looked her square in the eyes. “I have an unbelievable, wacky grandma whom I love with all my heart, even though there are times I’d like to strangle her.”

  “Like now?”

  “Yes. Like now.”

  She shook her head with a half-smile. “But I was right about you being a glass-half-full kind of gal.”

  Afternoon

  * * *

  I was in the bathroom, organizing the makeup drawer when my FitTrim vibrated, pestering me to do 250 steps. “I hate this damned thing.” I glanced at my girl, snoozing on the bathmat. “Hey, Daisy. Walk?”

  Daisy was her usual delighted self at the mention of a walk. At least one of us likes the step tracker.

  We halted at Nina’s gate while I vacillated whether to knock on the door. Knocking won. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I’m a half-glass full kind of girl. Halfway up the walk, Daisy ripped out of my grasp and tore through the shrubbery. I chased after her and caught up in time to see Mr. Snickers leap over the fence that borders the vacant house between our homes.

  “Nooo! Come back, Snickers!” I grabbed Daisy’s leash and we raced next door to the yard gate. It was locked. I could see the slide bolt through the crack between the gate and the post.

  In my back yard, I dragged a bench to the fence and climbed on board. “Mr. Snickers. Here, kitty-kitty-kitty.” I listened for meows or rustling in the bushes. “Please, Mr. Snickers. Please come out. I know you’re scared.” What was that? I cocked my head, trying to crank up my hearing. “Was that a meow? Kitty?”

/>   “Rrrraugh.”

  “All right, sweetheart. I’m coming in, and I’ll take you home to your mama.”

  I flung my right leg over the top of the capped fence and shimmied myself into a sitting position, feeling sharp splinters dig through my jeans. Death-gripping the wood, I hoisted my left leg over. Directly beneath was a thorny scarlet bougainvillea that ran the length of the fence. With any luck, I could fling myself far enough to clear it and land on my feet.

  I realized if I got hurt, no one would know where I am, so I called Samantha. “You will not believe this. I’m about to jump into my neighbor’s back yard.”

  “Ooo-kaay. Why?” I told her, and she said, “You’re going to kill yourself. I know you. You’re a total klutz.”

  She was right about that. When we were kids, she’d climb a fence, and I’d crawl under. “Well, I’m going for it.”

  “All right, but if I don’t hear from you in three minutes, I’m calling an ambulance.”

  “Give me twenty. Once I’m in, I have to find that darned cat.” I jammed my phone deep into my padded bra. Then, holding my breath, I flung myself into the yard, landing my butt smack in the center of the spiky bush with a loud shriek.

  Mr. Snickers tore out from under the deck, and catapulted over the back fence. I limped to the gate to discover I was trapped in the yard by a padlock hanging from the slide bolt. “This day keeps getting better and better.”

  I called Sam.

  “You okay?” she said.

  “Yes, and no. Do you have a hacksaw?”

  Before reporting the cat’s disappearance to Nina, I visited the owners of the yard he’d jumped into. The friendly folks escorted me into their gorgeous Better Homes and Gardens yard. We searched for him, but he was long gone.