While She Slumbered: The Murder Blog Mysteries #5

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  “Trying to make Donna and her girlfriend feel so unwelcome in the neighborhood that they’ll leave, and then if Nina is all right, she can come home,” I said. “May I have a word with you? Privately?” I guided him down the sidewalk towards his house. “I don’t want anyone to know about that video I showed you.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t do that. And no matter what happens, those women have got to go. So count me on board.”

  My phone twittered sweetly in my pocket, and Simon laughed. “No ass?”

  Sam’s smiling face was on the phone screen. “Hey. What’s up?” she said.

  I told her, and she asked, “Got room for two more?”

  “Come on over. You might want to bring some folding chairs. Better bring snacks, too.”

  You should’ve seen Ethan’s eyes bug out when he saw Chelsea step out of their Ford Escape. At the moment, her shoulder-length straight hair is patriotically streaked red and blue because her All-Star soccer team marched in the Fourth of July parade.

  Sam opened the backend of the vehicle. As Chelsea tugged a large cooler towards her, I poked Ethan in the arm and whispered, “Go help her.” Together, they set it on the sidewalk. Sam thanked him, and introduced her daughter. Ethan said, “Hi,” and his gaze slid to his sneakers. My usually bold niece instantly shifted into shoe-staring mode, too.

  I announced to the growing crowd, “This is my best friend, Samantha, and her daughter, Chelsea. I’ll let you all introduce yourselves.”

  Sam unfolded her chair and plopped her keister in it—then opened her cooler. “I brought water, soda, and wine, and paper cups. The wine is cheap but tasty.”

  “I always say cheap wine is better than no wine.” After everyone had a beverage of their choice, I raised my cup to the group of people lining the sidewalk. “To our dear friend, Nina. Come home soon.”

  We all turned to face her house and toasted, “To Nina!”

  I watched my wine snob neighbor taste his wine. “How is it, Simon?”

  “Not bad.” He read the label on the box. “Chablis. Would not have guessed that.” He said he’d be right back, and went to his house and returned bearing a few bottles of red.

  I ran home and filled a grocery bag with chips and crackers. When I returned, several more neighbors had joined us.

  My vigil had turned into a block party.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Thursday • July 16

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  I was back to harassing Donna and Michelle at ten this morning. My vigil didn’t turn into another block party, which was fine with me. It was fun meeting new people; however, I’m on a mission to make my neighbors miserable.

  Around noon, Michelle came out wearing a floppy sunhat, carrying a shopping bag, and using Donna’s cane. Before getting in her shiny, black Ford Mustang convertible, she hollered, “I have a lot of errands to run and Donna is napping, so I’d appreciate if you would keep the noise down.”

  I yelled, “You should be searching for Nina.”

  “Like you are?” she jeered, waving the cane at me. “Don’t forget to put sunblock on. I’d hate to see you get a nasty burn.”

  She started the engine and revved the motor a few times, then peeled out. As soon as she rounded the corner, I crossed the street to my house to get some sunblock and a hat. I was punching the code into my front door keypad when Simon called from the sidewalk, “Hey, Katy. We need to up your game. Waving a sign is not getting you any useful information.”

  “I totally agree, but it’s better than doing nothing. What do you have in mind?”

  He joined me on the porch. “It’s not exactly legal.” He gazed at me with a little grin. I raised my eyebrows in anticipation. “I have a little listening device that would enable you to hear what’s going on in their house while sitting in the comfort of your own home.” He followed me to the kitchen.

  “A bug, like they use on the cop shows? Something I would have to stick under a table or in a lamp because that’s not happening. I’m done with breaking and entering.” I picked up the percolator from the stove. “Coffee? It’s this morning’s. It’s pretty good reheated, and I’m too lazy to make a fresh pot.”

  “I’ll take half a cup. We can stick the device on the house exterior, and it’ll pick up everything.”

  I turned the burner on and set two mugs on the counter. “Won’t they notice this thing on the house?”

  “Doubt it.” Simon held out his open hand to reveal a quarter-sized disk. “We can put it where they won’t see it.”

  I plucked it from his calloused palm and scrutinized it. It was less than a quarter-inch thick and weighed an ounce at the most.

  He continued his sales pitch. “It’s voice-activated with a battery life of about ten days before needing a recharge.”

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “Let’s just say I have friends.”

  Is he being funny, or should I be worried? I’m going with funny.

  “May I see your phone?”

  I couldn’t resist holding it up and saying, “See?”

  He shook his head at my hilarity, took the phone, and asked for my passcode.

  “1969.”

  Simon nodded. “Ah. Your birth year. That’s always easy to remember.”

  “Very funny. It was the summer of love. You know, hippies, Woodstock.”

  A minute later, he said, “I installed an app. You can listen live, although everything is recorded, so you don’t have to be glued to the phone day and night.”

  “I don’t want to break the law. Been there and done that.” I divided the reheated coffee between the cups. “I also don’t want to get sued.”

  “You standing outside their window filming them is a lot more risky than this little bug. You can’t get sued if they don’t know about it.” He sipped the strong coffee. “Not bad.”

  I opened a cabinet and waved a box of cookies at him. “Want some?”

  “No, thank you. I’m Keto—more or less.”

  “One more reason not to be Keto.” I put the cookies back in the cabinet, and we sat at the kitchen table. “What did you think of Maddie Dubois? You know, the woman with the…(I almost said big boobs)… teenager?”

  “She’s something.” Simon grinned. “However, I have a strict rule not to date anyone I live near or work with. Also, not ready for someone else’s kids and exes.” He set the bug on the table.

  “Yeah. Me too. All of that. Way too complicated. Been there and done that—except for the kid thing.” I tapped the listening device. “Is this thing all charged up?”

  He nodded. “It’s ready to go. How about we do the deed tonight?”

  Sex? No, idiot, he means to set up the bug. “You’re okay with getting involved?” I hesitated. “I mean, it is illegal and I don’t want to be responsible for you getting into trouble.”

  “No worries. Let’s meet in front of my house at nine-thirty tonight.”

  9:30 p.m.

  “Any ideas where to put the spy thingie?” I asked.

  We were standing on the edge of Nina’s property, and I had butterflies dive-bombing in my stomach. I am not cut out for a life of crime.

  “I was thinking under the living room window. You got a good recording from that location until your phone…” I couldn’t clearly see Simon’s face in the dark, but I heard the little giggle bubbling in his voice. “Hee-Hawed. Still can’t stop laughing about that. Sure wish I could’ve seen your face when it happened.” He set a hand on my shoulder. “Is your phone off?”

  “I left it at home.”

  We sneaked to the living room window and flattened our bodies against the side of the house. I felt like I was in a Mission Impossible movie.

  “Where are we putting it?” I asked. “The window frame?”

  “No. Too risky,” he whispered. “Someone might notice a black disk against the white paint. “I’m sticking it underneath.”

  “Won’t it fall off?”

  “I’m using double
-back industrial-strength tape. “We’ll be lucky if we can pry it off once it’s stuck on.” He peeked in the window. “They’re watching TV.”

  My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I watched him press the disk firmly against the wall.

  “That should do it,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Back on the sidewalk in front of his house, Simon said, “Any questions on how to use the app?”

  “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

  “Good. Call me if you have any problems. I put my number in your phone.” He started up the walk to his front door. “Good luck!”

  I zipped home, poured a glass of wine, and settled on the couch to listen to the Donna and Michelle show. The first thing I heard was a loud yawn that sent me into a fit of yawns.

  Michelle: “I think it’s my bedtime, sweetybabe. I’m really pooped. Busy day.”

  Donna: “Me, too. We’re getting too old for all that heavy lifting.”

  Michelle: “I’m good for a little puttering around the house; however, I’ve come to the age where I need to leave the big jobs to the big kids.”

  Donna: “Well, we don’t have that luxury at the moment. Once we get through this, you can be a lady of leisure. How’s your leg feeling? That was a nasty fall you took.”

  Michelle: “It’s much better.” She laughed. “We should get matching canes.” They both laughed over that, and then she continued, “What are we going to do about our annoying neighbor?”

  Donna: “Katy?”

  Michelle: “Who else would I be talking about? She was out there all day today, screaming at every car that passed by. You’d think there would be a law about that.”

  Donna: “Well, there isn’t. I already checked. She isn’t breaking any laws.”

  Michelle: “If you say so.” She yawned. “We need to get our beauty sleep. Tomorrow’s the big day.”

  Donna: “I wish Baby Girl would come back.” Sniff, sniff. “She would be such an adorable ring-bearer.”

  Michelle: “Don’t give up hope. Sometimes dogs turn up months, even years, later.”

  Donna: “Maybe that could happen, but every day that passes makes it seem more unlikely.”

  Michelle: “You have to keep the faith.”

  Donna: “I’ll try. But we both know Aunt Nina’s never coming home.”

  Michelle: “We don’t know that either, so please don’t give up hope. Coming to bed?”

  Donna: “Yes, my love. Help me up.”

  I heard a loud grunt.

  Donna: “I’m so stiff. I need to take some ibuprofen.”

  Michelle: “Me, too. We need to feel good for tomorrow. I think we should get there at least fifteen minutes early. So, leave ten-thirty and get there at ten-forty-five?”

  Donna: “Sounds good to me.”

  A moment passed, and then their voices sounded further away.

  Michelle: “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Donna: “To bed.”

  Michelle: “Not with me, you aren’t. It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

  Giggling followed, and then Michelle squealed, “Oh, you bad girl. Screw bad luck.”

  Chapter Forty

  Thursday • July 23

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Haven’t posted for a while—time to catch up.

  A lot has happened in the last several days!

  I hope I remember everything.

  Friday, July 17

  Part One

  Even though the engaged couple wasn’t leaving for the courthouse until ten-thirty that morning, I was ready to go at eight. While eating a bowl of oatmeal, I tuned into their morning conversation on my phone.

  Donna: “I can’t believe the day has finally come.”

  Michelle: “Neither can I.”

  Donna: “You want more tea?

  Michelle: I better not. I’m so excited, and more tea might wind up upsetting my stomach. You know how I am.”

  Donna: “I certainly do.”

  Michelle: “We’ve been together for a long time. Well, sort of together.”

  Donna: “Today, we’ll be joined in marriage and officially together—forever.”

  Michelle: “I know it’s awful, but I’ve always been secretly grateful that Gary drove off that cliff.”

  Donna: “I suppose deep down, I was too. In the end, it sure saved me a lot of grief.” She chuckled. “That’s so awful. Gary’s death made me a widow and saved me grief.”

  Michelle: “Now we’re finally going to have our happily ever after. Till death do us part.”

  Donna: “I just wish Baby Girl was here. And Aunt Nina, of course. It’s so hard not knowing what’s happened to either of them. Even if they’re dead, at least I’d have closure.”

  Michelle: “I know. But I truly do believe that they are fine, wherever they are. This time next year, this will all be behind us. Just a bad memory.”

  Donna: “You have a sneaky look on your face. What have you done?”

  Michelle: “Okay. You got me. Can’t keep anything from you. I have a little wedding surprise.”

  Donna: “Really? What?”

  Michelle: “I booked us into a romantic bed-and-breakfast cottage. It’s on a big cattle ranch and is so charming and cozy.”

  Donna: “That’s wonderful. Where?”

  Michelle: “Not far. You’ll see. I packed a bag for you while you were taking a shower.”

  Donna: “Did you put my prescriptions in?”

  Michelle: “Of course. Levothyroxine. Statin. Lisinopril. Clopidogrel—I doubt that’s how it’s pronounced. Oh, and your diuretic.”

  Donna: “You know me too well.”

  Michelle: “The ranch serves a scrumptious breakfast. Eggs Benedict, croissants, fruit salad, and champagne. But there are no restaurants near there, so I’ve got two bags full of yummy appetizers, wine, and treats for tonight. We’ll have a fireside feast with no distractions. No internet. No TV. No phones.”

  Donna: “No phones?”

  Michelle: “There’s no cell coverage out there. There’s also no idiot waving her stupid sign and yelling at cars—just you and me for one whole blissful day and night. We deserve it. We can even stay a second night if you like. They don’t have another booking until the weekend.”

  Donna: “What if there’s an emergency and we don’t have a phone?”

  Michelle: “If we have an emergency, we’ll do what we would have done thirty years ago. We’ll walk to the owner’s house and use their landline. Feel better now?”

  Donna: “Much. I can’t wait to get there.”

  Michelle: “Then go finish getting dressed, silly girl, while I load the car.”

  * * *

  I hurried outside and stationed myself in the bushes on Simon’s property line. Pretty soon, Michelle came out dragging a blue and white cooler. She looked nice in white pants, gold sandals, and a yellow sweater set that complemented her tan. She set the cooler by the rental car, went back inside, and returned toting a couple grocery bags.

  Wow, she wasn’t kidding about having a feast.

  Another trip to the house, and she came out with an armful of pillows and blankets.

  I ran back to my house scolding myself for wasting precious time spying in the bushes when I should have been getting my car out. I grabbed my purse, backed Veronica out of the garage, checked the gas tank—it was three-quarters full, and killed the engine. After a few minutes, I got restless and climbed out to watch from the bushes again.

  Everything was in the car and Michelle was smoking a cigarette and clutching two white lacy scarves. Donna stepped out of the house looking the best I’ve ever seen her in an elegant navy pantsuit with a colorful silky scarf arranged around her neck. She’d clipped back her straggly hair and had makeup on. Amazing what a little effort can do.

  She called to Michelle from the porch. “Do we have everything?”

  “Everything is in the car except my beautiful blushing bride-to-be.”

  “You m
ean the other beautiful bride.”

  Michelle waved the scarves. “Look what I got? Matching scarves to protect our hair. We can pretend they’re wedding veils.”

  I watched them get in the Mustang and tie the scarves under their chins. While they were buckling up, I rushed to my car and edged it out far enough to see which way they would go. Once they were heading down the street, I followed at a discreet distance in my orange car. With hope, they were too excited about getting hitched to notice little old me trailing behind.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Thursday • July 23

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Friday, July 17

  Part Two

  11:35 a.m.

  The blissful newlyweds strolled hand-in-hand through the courthouse parking lot swinging their arms like little girls. They stopped and passionately kissed like very big girls for a long minute. A teenager walking by yelled good-naturedly, “Get a room!”

  Michelle hollered, “We’re newlyweds! Would you take our picture?”

  She gave him her phone and he had some fun with them—encouraging them to do romantic poses, then goofy poses. The scene made me feel rotten about following them.

  But I did anyway.

  We got onto Highway 101, heading north. Up the long grade and down the other side. The pavement flattened out and we traveled a few miles more with me trailing several cars behind in the slow lane. Her left turn signal blinked. She slowed down and pulled into a turn lane that led to a country road.

  I swung onto the gravel road and hung way back until she rounded a curve up ahead. She was driving faster than the twenty-five MPH posted speed limit, and stirring up a dust cloud behind her, which helped camouflage me. An intelligent person would have given up at that point since it was apparent they were going to the place Michelle had talked about. A rustic, cozy cottage on a cattle ranch. The cattle grazing beyond the rusty barbed wire fence that bordered the road confirmed it.