"We aren't breaking in," I repeated.
"But…" Betty protested.
"No," I said firmly. "We're just following the breadcrumbs."
All four girls looked down at the ground.
"They dropped breadcrumbs?" Ava asked.
Lauren rolled her eyes. "Well, that would be dumb because the birds would eat all the breadcrumbs."
"No, it's just a figure of speech. Besides, we don't know if Hilly actually brought Wally here. She might've said that to throw Kayla off."
This was kind of nuts. What did I expect to find anyway? The teenager was probably mistaken in what she thought she'd heard Hilly and Wally say. And the trail was completely cold. We couldn't exactly look for tire marks or footprints. And even if we did, what could we compare them to?
In fact, I was starting to wonder if all I had done by coming here was let the girls know where I usually went to break into the zoo at night. And that didn't seem like a great thing.
"Come on," I said. "Let's get going."
Betty brightened. "We're going to the Cornhole now?"
"Um, maybe?" I wasn't sure what to tell them. These kids were fearless, and if they knew where the dive bar was, I wouldn't put it past them to try to get there another time.
"Hold on." Inez was staring at the trees about fifty yards away. "There's something in there."
"Probably squirrels," I said. "We have to go."
She shook her head. "No, it's not a squirrel. It's coming this way."
Lauren, ever the animal lover, squinted at the tree line. "That's way too large to be a squirrel."
Something in her voice worried me, and I started to hear something that did sound way too large to be a squirrel. And since we were on the back side of a zoo filled with wild animals…
"Get into the car. Now!" I shouted, shoving them into the vehicle. I was just closing the side door when the four girls squealed through the window, pointing past my shoulder.
I turned around to see Hilly emerge from the woods, carrying a small black duffel bag. She spotted me and froze.
"Hilly!" I shouted, tearing off in her direction.
Behind me, I heard the van door open and the girls calling Hilly's name with far more enthusiasm than they'd shown for me.
Hilly turned and disappeared into the forest. I dove into the tree line but stopped, looking around. I didn't see her anywhere. I heard the crash of footfalls in the underbrush ahead, but I couldn't see her. Great. It would just be my luck if she managed invisibility too.
"Hilly! Come back here!" I shouted as I kept running, jumping over logs and tree roots.
The girls followed, shouting her name. But they were a few yards behind me. I stopped and tried to focus. Hilly wasn't anywhere. She'd vanished. Like a ghost.
"Where did she go?" Betty asked as she caught up to me.
"She's gone!" Lauren said.
Ava and Inez crashed into the other girls.
"That was Hilly, wasn't it?" Inez said as she untangled herself from the others.
"Why did she run away?" Ava asked.
"Because." Betty grimaced. "Hilly did it. Hilly is our killer."
I hated to admit it, but I think the kid was right.
CHAPTER TEN
I dropped the girls off, ignoring the loud protestations that included threats of everything from not talking to me ever again to a plague of Biblical proportions (from Betty, of course). I didn't care. These kids were going home. I didn't want them to join me at the Cornhole, and that was that. I didn't expect Hilly to go to the dive bar, but since I couldn't find her, I thought I'd hit there next just in case I could find anything the police hadn't.
When I dropped Betty off last, she gave me a lecture on how partners didn't turn each other in.
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Hilly and I aren't partners."
"You sort of are." Betty folded her arms over her chest and made no move to exit the car. "And you're gonna make sure she takes the heat just to make yourself look innocent."
I held up my right hand in the Scout's honor sign. "I would never do that. In fact, I'm trying to help her."
She stared into my eyes, and I found myself becoming more uncomfortable than usual. Betty had a quirky confidence that impressed and, to be perfectly honest, terrified me.
"You wouldn't throw her under the bus just to get yourself out of trouble?"
I shook my head. "Pinky swear," I said as I held out my crooked pinkie. Betty took it in her pinkie, and we shook.
There's nothing more ironclad and unbreakable than the pinkie swear. Once you locked pinkies, you were committed. Forever. In the few years I'd been a scout leader, I'd not once been able to breach it.
Betty chanted, "If you break the pinkie swear, your finger will be cut off, you'll get ten thousand fist punchings, and whoever lies has to swallow a thousand needles."
I did a double take. "What was that?"
Betty let go of my pinkie. "The pinky swear started in Japan. That's what you're supposed to say after."
"I've never heard that before," I said.
She rolled her eyes. "You've never heard of Wikipedia?"
"Yes, I have heard of Wikipedia," I argued.
"You are so old that you probably think it's a book or something." And with a grunt of disgust, she jumped out of the car and ran into the house.
As I drove to the Cornhole, I wondered why Betty seemed so hostile toward me today. What had I done? The girl was usually the first person on my side. But now she seemed to think I was either the killer or trying to frame Hilly.
I wouldn't frame Hilly. And not just because I didn't want to swallow a thousand needles. Hilly was my friend, and she had my back.
My biggest concern was that the sheriff would find her before I did. But why should I worry about that? Sheriff Carnack wouldn't do more than throw her in jail. What I really had to worry about was if the CIA sent someone to take her into custody.
The Agency would never want the word to get out that an assassin (because they don't have assassins) had killed on American soil. They'd probably lock her up in a maximum-security penitentiary somewhere and wipe their hands of her. I couldn't help her there. Oh sure, I can break into a lot of places, but a maximum-security prison wasn't one of them.
If only Riley had done it. No, I didn't really want that either. As much as Riley had been a pain in my butt over the years, he was still my friend and former boss. Besides, if he were arrested for the murder, I couldn't beat the crap out of him.
Maybe it was Bitsy! I liked that idea. And if it wasn't, maybe I could pin it on her anyway! That woman had turned me into a joke and laughingstock by taking credit for my work, and then there was that video…
What did I ever do to her? I hadn't even known she was a colleague, for crying out loud. No, taking Bitsy down would solve a lot here.
My tires crunched on gravel, and I turned off the paved road, travelling deeper into the country. A few more turns and I arrived at the Cornhole.
A dump in the dark of night, the place looked like an abused and abandoned building in the light of day. Well, night—it was early evening. The parking lot was empty of cars. Even places like this weren't open on Sunday night.
Huh. I'd never been here in daylight. The squat, one-story building looked like a bunker. Plaster flaked off every few millimeters to the point that I wasn't sure what color it was. A faded sign, which was probably last painted in 1957, said The Cornhole—The Hawkeye Bar.
For a moment I reached for the Iowa Hawkeye's baseball cap I usually kept in the glove box. But no one was here. I didn't need to armor up in black and gold.
I stepped out of the van and onto the gravel, skidding a bit on the loose rock. I looked around carefully before walking around back toward the dumpster. For a festering hellhole, this place actually had a very neat and tidy dumpster. Crime scene tape flapped in the summer wind, surrounding the area. After looking around, I ducked underneath and walked over to the dumpster.
The t
ape offered only a two-foot radius around the garbage bin, which made me believe that inside the dumpster was the whole crime scene. Just in case, I went back to the van for a pair of latex gloves, then returned to take a closer look.
Inside the dumpster were a couple of flattened garbage bags, securely tied at their ends. Nothing leaked out, and the inside of the bin was spotless. Inside the Cornhole wasn't nearly this neat. What made the owner keep this area so clean, I wondered?
I walked around the dumpster as lightly as I could, hoping not to disturb the tape. I was kind of surprised it was still there since I was sure all forensic checks were over. Who cleaned this stuff up usually? It felt kind of odd that I didn't know.
Very carefully, I knelt down and looked under the dumpster. The area was clean. Reaching underneath, I ran my hands over the rocks but neither felt nor saw anything. That seemed odd too. Normally, there'd be all kinds of debris in a place like this. Not here. Maybe forensics took it all.
Well, there was only one thing to do—as I got to my feet and heaved myself over the edge, into the bin. My feet hit with a resounding clang, so I waited to make sure no one was on their way.
After a moment, I bent over and gingerly lifted each bag. It didn't even stink. How was that possible? Grasping the first bag, I opened it. It was filled with comic books. Dozens of them. The other bag yielded the same results.
As I looked closer, I realized that the comics were all the same. They were all copies of a single issue. That was it.
The sound of a car in the near distance had me grabbing one of the comics and racing for the van. I managed to pull out onto the crossroad and get a good distance away when, in my rearview mirror, I spotted a black sedan pulling into the parking lot.
Probably the owner. I congratulated myself on my escape and shoved the comic deep inside my purse.
My cell buzzed. It was Rex. I answered.
"Hi, babe!" I said brightly.
"You sound better," my husband said.
"Oh, I am."
"Ready to come home now? Philby's been following me around as if I'd murdered you and dumped you somewhere."
"Yeah. I'll be home soon."
"Great. I'm at the office, but I'll be home in about fifteen minutes. Can you order a pizza or something?"
I looked down at the dirt on my knees. I'd need a shower before he saw me. "Sure. Bye!"
I'd been thinking of going back to Soo Jin's to grill her on the crime scene, but enough was enough. I needed to go home and reassure my cat that my husband hadn't murdered me.
Philby greeted me at the door wearing her werewolf mask. She pulled it off, purring for about two seconds before turning tail and walking away. That was her way of saying she was glad I was back and to never make her worry like that again.
Taking the stairs two-by-two and pausing to pet Leonard, our Scottish deerhound, I hit the shower and was dressed and back downstairs in time for Rex to walk in and kiss me.
"Hey there, stranger." My husband kissed me again, and it tingled all the way to my toes.
"Sorry I've been gone," I apologized once I'd come up for air.
Rex searched my eyes. "We really need to talk about this."
"Okay." I grabbed my cell. "But first I have to order pizza."
"You're telling me," Rex said as he put his napkin on the table, "that Wally was a Chechen strongman and that you were embedded with him?"
I toyed with a seventh piece of pizza. "That's right."
I'd filled him in on most of the story while he ate. It's a good tactic because it's hard to question someone's motives with your mouth full.
He sat back in his chair. "And Riley knows him too? Was I the only one at dinner who didn't know we were entertaining a terrorist?"
"Um…yes?" Then I stuffed pizza into my mouth. It's also hard to admit guilt when your mouth is full.
Rex was silent as he digested the information. After a few moments, he continued. "Tell me about Ron and Ivan. You do know they are in the county jail, right?"
I cleared my throat. "About that. You see, they couldn't have done it because they were with me when Wally was getting spanked by the puma."
Rex stared at me. He didn't mention my puma comment because he was focused on the fact that I'd been Ron and Ivan's alibi.
"Hilly told me on the phone that she was at the Cornhole and that she witnessed the murder," Rex said slowly. "She insisted that Ron and Ivan had done it. But with what you are telling me, I know now she was lying."
I flinched a little. He'd said aloud what I'd been worried about all along.
His eyes met mine. "Do you think Hilly killed Wally?"
"Well…" My mind raced to make the answer be no. "I don't think so," I said at last.
Rex rubbed his eyes. He looked tired.
"She's an assassin who isn't an assassin," he said, measuring his words.
"That's right," I agreed.
"What I mean is, she's a killer. And she lied about being a witness. And she was the last person to see him alive, that we know of. It all kind of points to her."
I sighed, unable to refute his logic.
"Tell me this," Rex said. "Why was Wally here in the first place? After what you've told me, it doesn't sound like a social call."
Wally was dead. Why not tell Rex?
"He was threatening to kill you if I didn't kill Riley."
Rex stood up and went to the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He was ruminating on all I'd told him.
"I know it's a lot to take in." I took a glass from him and gulped it down. This was getting to be a habit.
Rex took a drink like a normal, non-lushy person. "I know about your past. Why didn't you tell me when he showed up? I knew something was wrong with that dinner. Riley looked like he wanted to strangle Wally. Then Hilly shows up out of the blue. Why not just tell me?"
I shrugged. "You couldn't have arrested him on that. I thought Hilly and I could figure some way out."
Rex rubbed his eyes. "Is that why Hilly was here? Because you called her to come help?"
"No. She was already here when I'd called her."
My husband stared at me for a moment. "Why do you think she was already here?"
To be perfectly honest, I hadn't thought about that. Everything had happened so quickly that her reason for being here sort of slipped my mind. And I told him that.
"Maybe," Rex said, "Hilly was tracking Wally and followed him here?"
I rubbed my chin. "I guess that's possible."
"And it makes her look more guilty," Rex admitted.
He really was an amazing man. Rex didn't yell or talk down to me. He only asked that I tell him what was going on—something that was very hard for me to do, considering that I'd been a spy and, even after all these years, wasn't used to being so open.
"I think it's Riley or Bitsy." I poured myself another glass.
"Riley's just as likely as Hilly," Rex agreed. "But who's Bitsy."
"She's a third-rate spy bimbo who was also embedded with Wally as his maid. The CIA kept that info from me. I only found out through Hilly." I left out the part about the humiliating video. No point in telling him about that. He'd probably want to see it.
"And this Bitsy is here?" Rex wondered.
"Yes! Exactly!" I jumped on the opportunity to throw a colleague who I hadn't known was a colleague under the bus.
Rex sighed. "I'll need to talk to them."
"I thought this was Carnack's case?"
"I said I'd help. He's got his hands full with a bike theft ring in Bladdersly."
"Of course he does."
Bladdersly was a rival town about ten miles from here. Everything Who's There was, Bladdersly was not. It was a stinking cesspool of humanity, and every Whovian loathed them. Our football teams were rivals, and any time the Raging Bladders came to play against the Whorish (an unfortunate blending of Who's and our biggest ancestry, the Irish), the whole town would turn out to mock them. It was pretty much the same when
we played at their high school—just the mocking was dumber.
Rex took another drink. "So I'll need to see Hilly, Riley, and Bitsy tomorrow."
"Well, I can get Riley and Bitsy."
"Why not Hilly?"
I shrugged. "That's the thing. She's sort of missing right now."
He looked at me. "And you don't think that makes her look guilty?"
"No?" But I really did think it made her look guilty.
Rex shook his head.
"Okay, I know it looks bad. And you should totally talk to her. But I should probably find her first."
"Merry." He placed his hand on my arm. "What are you doing?"
This caught me by surprise. "What do you mean?"
"You're interfering in this investigation."
"Yes, I am," I admitted. "I'll find her. I promise. Then I'll march her in to talk to you."
Famous last words.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rex was gone in the morning. He'd let me sleep in, which I didn't like. I had things to do, people to shake down, killers to catch, and Bitsy to frame for it all.
Philby jumped on the table as I ate a breakfast of Lucky Charms. They really are magically delicious. It was strategy because this particular cereal gave me the sugar buzz that would give me the energy I needed to hunt down my friend.
"No bacon today, sorry." I chucked her under the chin and went back to my cereal. The milk was turning a delightful shade of blue. I loved that part.
Philby loved bacon. She was obsessed with it. Maybe it made her feel like a huntress stalking her prey. That made me picture her trying to bring down a hog, and I laughed out loud.
The obese cat fixed me with her Hitlery gaze. She looked at my bowl of cereal then at me Then she dipped her paw into my bowl and smacked me with her milky foot.
"Hey!" I wiped my face off with a napkin. "What's going on? You've never messed with my cereal before!"
It was strange how I always thought she'd somehow answer.
The cat wasn't to be trifled with. She slid the bowl across the table toward the edge until I grabbed it before it hit the ground.
"Is something wrong?" Maybe she was trying to tell me something other than the usual you are a moron. "Where's Leonard?" I looked for the Scottish deerhound. "Where's Martini?"
Macho Man Murder Page 8
