by Sara Rosett
“Did you see them leave the car?” he asked.
“No.”
“Were they carrying anything?” he persisted.
“One of them was putting on a fanny pack and they had the posters, but that was all I saw,” I said.
“Did you see anyone else?” Waraday asked. “Any cars on this road?”
I looked away at the green rolling hills of the cemetery, trying to think. “There was a black car, driving toward the exit.”
“What type?”
“Ah—a small two door. Not as small as a sports car, and it had a yellow ribbon magnet on the back.” Waraday grimaced, but didn’t say anything. I knew he was thinking that over half the cars in North Dawkins had those magnets. “I didn’t notice the license plate or anything, either.”
“Anything else you remember?” he asked as he wrote in his notebook.
“No, nothing el—wait. I passed Colonel Barnes. He was walking from the cars back to the graveside service.”
“Colonel Barnes?” Waraday asked and I looked to Mitch. I didn’t remember his first name.
Mitch said, “Lieutenant Colonel Richard Barnes. Were these dry ice bombs, Detective Waraday?” Mitch asked before Waraday could ask another question. When Waraday didn’t answer right away, Mitch continued, “Because one of those went off in my car the day before yesterday.”
“I’m aware of the situation.” Waraday frowned and tapped his pen against his notebook a few times as he watched the officers gathering evidence. “Look, I understand what you’re asking, but right now we don’t know if this is connected to those incidents. There are some differences in these dry ice bombs compared to the earlier ones. We don’t know if we’re dealing with the same individual, a group of individuals, or a copycat. All I can really tell you now is that we’ll keep you informed.”
Mitch nodded and as soon as Waraday moved out of earshot, I said, “When he said they were different, I bet he means they were smaller. That lid with the edge of plastic attached to it that I saw on the grass still had a bit of the label attached. It was a small water bottle.”
“So if it’s the same person or,” Mitch glanced at the Peace Now women, “a group of people, why the switch to smaller bottles? And if it’s someone completely different…” Mitch’s voice trailed off, then he said, “I don’t know why someone would copy a stunt like that, especially at a graveside service.”
“I don’t either,” I said, feeling lost and confused. “None of it makes sense. Even if it is the Peace Now group, why would they do something so outrageous? It’ll only hurt their reputation, surely they understand that.” I blew out a breath and rotated my shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension. “And if it was Colonel Barnes, why would he do it? If he really wanted Colonel Pershall’s job, that’s one thing, but setting off dry ice bombs after he’s dead…that’s just odd. It wouldn’t help him with the promotion.”
Mitch shook his head and I could tell he was as frustrated as I was. He hated not having the answers as much as I did. He wrapped one arm around my shoulder, pulling me close, and I leaned against him. A trickle of people began leaving the gravesite, the blustery wind kicking at suit coats and dress hems. Denise was escorted to the limousine, still dry eyed, but now her face had a set, angry look. I couldn’t blame her for being upset.
I pulled slightly away from Mitch. “How would someone do it? Even if you had the dry ice already in the bottles, you’d have to keep the bottles cold, right? Otherwise they’d explode, especially in this weather.”
“They probably packed them in a cooler with more dry ice.”
“I guess they didn’t find anything incriminating in Carrie’s car. They’re letting her leave.” We watched as she and the other two women climbed in the car, then Carrie whipped the car around in a U-turn and zipped out of the cemetery.
“I’m sure Waraday will keep an eye on her,” I said and leaned back against the van, only to spring away from the hot surface. “Speaking of keeping an eye on things, where’s Gary? Wasn’t he supposed to be watching Carrie for you? Maybe he saw something.”
“I got a text from him right after you left the service. He’d followed Carrie here and he was waiting at the entrance to the cemetery. It would have been too obvious to drive in behind her. I wonder if they had time to plant the water bottles before you saw them?”
I pushed my bangs off my damp forehead. “I’m not sure. It did look like they’d just arrived.” I glanced around the cemetery at the roped off portions. “Look where the explosions happened. None of those are that far from where Carrie was parked.”
Mitch nodded. “Even the pickup is within tossing distance.”
“So they could have arrived and tossed out the water bottles before I even saw them.”
“If I had three dry ice bombs in my car, I’d want to get rid of them first thing, too,” Mitch said, running a finger around his collar. I was hot in my dress, but I knew he had to feel worse in his coat. “But then why stick around for the explosions?”
“More publicity for your group?” I asked doubtfully. I looked at the scattered leaves and broken branches. “Bad, bad PR move.”
“Looks like we can leave,” Mitch said as the limousine with Denise and her sister began to roll.
“Oh—the reception at the O Club! I’m supposed to be there early.” I gave Mitch a quick kiss and hopped in the minivan. I dropped out of the line of cars following the limousine and took a shortcut through a neighborhood to get to the front gate ahead of the funeral party. I arrived at the O Club in time to set up Colonel Pershall’s picture and make sure everything else was ready to go.
Denise and her sister arrived and I hurried over to them because I didn’t have long before I had to pick Livvy up at school. I told Denise again how much Mitch and I would miss Colonel Pershall.
“Thank you, Ellie,” she said, almost automatically. “It means a lot to me that you’re here. Thank you for taking care of the picture.”
“No problem at all. You look like you’re holding up really well, despite…everything. How do you do it?”
“This is not the time or place for me to grieve. This is for Lewis and his memory. I’m not going to become the center of attention like some people.”
I recognized the subtle reference to Carrie, whose weeping had dominated the funeral service for Ryan.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I asked, “Is there anything else I can do? Do you need anything later today?”
Her mechanical manner dropped away and instead of the carefully controlled façade, I saw a moment of raw rage on her face.
I swallowed and took a tiny step back. She was still tightly controlling her anger, keeping her words low. “I want to know who disrupted Lewis’s funeral.”
I’d never seen Denise like this. She was always upbeat and affable. I mean, I know it was her husband’s funeral and it had just been bombed, so I had to give her some leeway. “It looked like the police were doing a very careful job. I’m sure they’ll figure out who did it.” I realized I was using my most soothing tone, the one I used when the kids were extra cranky or hurt or scared.
“At least they can’t blame it on me,” she said.
Tips for Busy, Budget-Minded Moms
To streamline your time in the kitchen, create a standardized grocery shopping list with headings for:
Fresh Fruit/Vegetables
Canned Goods (Fruit/Vegetables/Beans/Soups)
Baking Items (Boxed Mixes/Dry Ingredients/Spices)
Breakfast Items
Crackers/Chips/Snacks
Drinks (Juices/Water/Soda)
Meats
Dairy/Cheese
Breads
Frozen
Cleaning Products
Paper Products (Napkins/Paper Towels)
Personal Hygiene Products
You can arrange the list according to the layout of the store where you shop. You can also find downloadable grocery lists online.
Make several copies an
d post one on the refrigerator. When you run out of an item, take a minute to add it to the grocery list. Train your family members to do the same.
Before you go to the store, make a menu and add any special ingredients you’ll need for certain dishes to the list you’ve already started. Then, check your panty and refrigerator to see what items are running low and add those to the list as well.
Chapter Fifteen
“And then we learned the right way to walk in a line,” Livvy said.
I helped Livvy out of the minivan. “Really? How’s that?” I asked. As I slid the door closed, I swung my latest designer purse, a red Notting Hill Design Westbourne, onto my shoulder. I’d snagged it at a good discount on eBay and felt it brought a splash of color and a bit of sophistication to my otherwise unoriginal ensemble of a black T-shirt and jeans.
Livvy braced her arms to her sides. “You have to keep your hands to yourself, look forward, and not talk. That’s real important, the not talking part. Mrs. Ames says that’s the most important thing.”
“I imagine it is.” I exchanged an amused glance with Mitch, then said, “Why don’t you practice walking like you do at school as you walk to Mrs. Bonnie’s door.”
“Okay.” Livvy stepped smartly up the sidewalk, her posture stiff.
Mitch and I watched her go, then I said, “And I was worried about what I’d be missing. I had no idea we’d get a blow-by-blow account of the day.”
“And we’re not even to lunch yet.”
“The retelling may take longer than the actual day.”
I’d made it home from the funeral in time to pick her up at the school, where I’d learned that the car-rider line was a complicated thing that ran with clocklike precision and woe to anyone foolish enough to go the wrong way. Fortunately, I’d found the correct lane and picked up Livvy without incident.
She’d been so excited to have homework, a page of counting problems on one side and letters on the other, that she’d done it almost as soon as she stepped in the door this afternoon. Her enthusiasm about her new adventures in school had taken my mind off of the funeral. Livvy’s constant chatter about her day had pretty much filled the rest of the afternoon, but being back in base housing, I couldn’t help but think about Colonel Pershall, Denise, and Carrie.
“I thought Abby and Jeff were in charge of the supper club,” Mitch said as he hoisted Nathan into his arms and passed the small yard sign that read LIEUTENANT COLONEL AND MRS. BARNES on the way to the door.
“Abby’s the point of contact and she’s bringing the main dish tonight. The host doesn’t cook. The rest of us do,” I said, holding up the plate of chocolate chip cookies I’d brought for dessert.
Nathan wiggled with excitement, “The vroom-vroom lady’s house!”
“Yes, it is,” I said, “but don’t call her that. Her name is Mrs. Bonnie.”
Mitch looked at me questioningly and I said, “He’s remembering the kids’ squadron Christmas party here last year.” It’s funny what kids remember and how they describe people. I lowered my voice so that only Mitch could hear and said, “You know how Bonnie is—constantly moving and always talking so fast. When we left that day, Nathan said Bonnie was like one of his race cars vrooming around. He had such a good time at the party, he asked for weeks when we were going back to the vroom-vroom lady’s house.”
“I see,” Mitch said with a smile. “Here you go, big guy.” Mitch angled Nathan toward the doorbell. “Push the button.” His pudgy finger pressed on the bell and he grinned. Livvy frowned. She’d wanted to do it. I never thought a small thing like ringing a doorbell could cause so much controversy, but I knew what was coming, so I leaned down to Livvy and said in a low voice, “Since you’re going to school now, Nathan needs to learn to do some of the things you’ve been doing.” She looked like she didn’t quite buy this trade-off.
Bonnie flung the door open and set her jet black hair swinging. “Come in, come in.” She had pointy features, a sharp nose and chin, porcelain skin, and thin lips. Tonight she was wearing a bright red lipstick and the slash of scarlet was rather startling in contrast to her fair skin.
Her jazzy personality was perfectly suited to her job in pharmaceutical sales. She was one of the few “old guard” wives of the spouse club who’d fully supported Denise when she shook things up. But I wasn’t sure why Bonnie had backed Denise. Either Bonnie wanted the changes Denise offered or she was savvy enough to see that Denise was going to win the battle and Bonnie wanted to be on the winning side. “Rich is still at the squadron—some big emergency—but he should be here soon.”
The spicy aroma of chili peppers, garlic, onions, and cheese filled the hall. “Beautiful day, isn’t it? Don’t you just love this low humidity? If we’d known it was going to be this nice we could have had a cookout, but at least the kids can play. They’re in the back,” she informed Livvy. Mitch set Nathan down and he scurried along behind Livvy to the sliding glass door to the backyard. I could see Bonnie’s son and daughter, Sunny and Peter, who were in sixth and seventh grade, pushing the younger kids on the swings.
“Smells delicious,” I said, finally managing to get in a few words.
“And these look yummy.” Bonnie took the plate from me and led the way into the kitchen. “The guys are on the back patio, Mitch,” she said. “Be a sweetie and tell them to come in here. The food’s ready.”
I followed her into the kitchen, which she had decorated with lots of blue and white Polish pottery. Abby pulled a bubbling cheesy dish of enchiladas out of the oven. I greeted everyone, then went to stand beside Megan at the counter and helped her arrange chips and dips. The guys entered the kitchen and Bonnie said, “Okay, everyone, tonight is buffet style, so help yourself and grab a seat anywhere in the living room or on the patio. There’s peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the little guys and drinks are set up in the dining room.”
Mitch and I filled plates for the kids and got them settled outside at a small picnic table where they were comparing ages, which was something the kids always did when a group formed. I guess it was essential to sort out the pecking order. I returned to the house and had just filled my plate and was carrying it into the living room along with a tall glass of mango iced tea when Bonnie waylaid me in the kitchen with a folder.
“I know I keep putting you off, but I’m determined to get organized. This is such an important time for us. Everything’s changing, so now’s the perfect time. She shoved the file folder at me. “I tore some photos that I adore out of magazines.”
I set down the plate and flicked through a few shiny pages of bare shelves and open-backed bookcases. The minimalist look was very different from her current, more traditional look. “We can do something like this, but it will be challenging in base housing. Since your rooms are already pretty small, we’ll have to find ways to store things out of sight. I’m sure we can work something out. I’ll look through these. The next step is for me to come over and take a look at everything you want organized. I can give you a detailed estimate with time and cost breakdowns.”
“Oh, okay…we can do that. Maybe next week. I’ll give you a call,” Bonnie said.
I tucked the folder under my arm and picked up my plate again. I suspected that Bonnie was the type of person who wanted to clip photos and think about being organized, but she never took the essential steps to make it happen. She’d talked to me about organizing since last January, but every time I followed up with her, she put me off with an excuse. There was a fine line between being persistent and being a pest. I tried not to stray into the pest side of things and if someone didn’t call me back or put me off a few times, I left them alone.
In the living room, I spotted Mitch talking to Abby and Jeff. The dining room chairs ringed the living room and I sat down in a chair placed in front of a five-foot-tall bookcase stuffed with books. Most of them were how-to and self-help books and had titles along the lines of “You Can Be a Millionaire” and “Don’t Wait—Get Rich Now.” I dug into the enchilada
s, wondering where Bonnie thought she was going to put all those books when she switched to the minimalist look. I doubted she was planning on getting rid of them. I gave a mental shrug. Maybe that’s why she never called me in for a consultation. Deep down she knew she’d have to change lots of things for a new look and wasn’t quite ready to do it.
Megan was sitting in the chair next to me. Tyler, wearing a blue jean baseball cap that covered his fuzzy Mohawk hair, was dozing in his car seat at her feet. I turned to her and noticed Henry was on her other side. “Oh, hi, Henry. I didn’t see you over there.” Henry Fleet’s brown hair, brown eyes, and medium build matched his quiet and reserved personality. Apparently, Henry kept his head down and got his work done, something Mitch appreciated. Mitch said Henry was one of the guys the squadron could count on and Mitch enjoyed flying with him, except for one thing. Henry insisted on parsing out who did each job and taking credit for every small thing he did, which ran counter to the concept that the crew was a unit and had to work together and succeeded or failed together. “So you made it back,” I said. “How was your trip?”
“Good, except that Travel didn’t make hotel or car reservations for us in Hawaii. I had to do it.”
“Really,” I said. Looked like Henry was still keeping track. That tendency would have to get annoying day after day. “So what happened? You guys didn’t have to sleep in base ops, did you?”
He grinned. “Downtown, right on the beach.”
“That’s great. Did you get to swim?”
“No, it was a quick turn, but at least we had a view.” He rubbed his eyes and said, “I don’t think I’m adjusted back to this time zone.”
“Mitch has done that trip, too, and he didn’t get to spend any time on the beach either,” I said.
Megan shot an accusing look at Henry and said, “Well, now that you’re home, you’ll be able to catch up on your sleep. Henry never gets up with Tyler during the night.”
