We scuttled along, clumped together like a football team in a huddle. Slowly we picked our way toward the big house. Bubble-gum lights flashed; red streamers strobed across the snow. The Webster Groves police had arrived. An ambulance also took up space in the alley. Finally, we made it to the back door. As a glommed together group, we were too wide to make it through the opening. I stepped to one side, moving away from Detweiler, to let him follow the kids inside.
My gown was covered in blood.
Detweiler’s blood.
CHAPTER 8
“You've been shot! Why didn't you tell me? Anya, get help! Where’s Brawny?”
My daughter dropped Erik’s hand and sprinted away. I should have reacted with more restraint, because my loud cries caused my son to totally freak out. It wasn’t really surprising; he’d lost both parents in an auto accident before coming to live with us. Of course he had reason to be concerned about losing another dad. In response to my shouts, Erik locked his arms around my husband’s knees, effectively crippling him.
Detweiler groaned in pain.
I tried to peel the little boy away. “Erik, honey, don’t cry. We need to get Daddy to the doctor, but he'll be fine.”
I was lying through my teeth. I did not know if my husband would be fine or not. As a matter of fact, I’ve been widowed once, and I didn’t want it to happen again. Especially on our wedding day.
Detweiler sagged. This was no time for me to lose control. I got my wits about me.
“It’s just a scratch.” He grimaced.
“Good,” I said, “because I plan to kill you for not getting help before you came to check on us!”
He chuckled. “I'll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”
But as we stepped out from under the oak tree and into the sunlight, I could see the blood was rushing out of him in steady spurts. That was definitely not a good sign. It was more than a scratch. My husband was a liar. I wadded up my skirt and pressed it tightly against his gut. Glancing around, I muttered, “Where’s that second ambulance?” When I spotted the second bus, I yelled out, “Help! He’s been shot!”
Two EMTs ran up to Detweiler.
“He’s bleeding badly. I’m putting pressure on the wound.”
But one of the EMTs elbowed me out of the way, so he could see the damage. I pulled off my cape and wadded it up. “Use this.”
After all, there’s already a bullet hole in the hood.
“Bring a stretcher,” one of the medics shouted to a man waiting by the ambulance.
In short order, the three had Detweiler flat on his back. One started an IV, while another took his vitals. After a quick consultation, they lifted the stretcher and jogged toward the waiting ambulance. I trotted after them, slipping and sliding on the icy snow, but I quickly gave up when I realized that Erik was running behind me, crying his heart out. I stopped to cuddle the little boy, although I ached to hear that my husband would be okay.
An EMT ran back to talk to me. “We’re taking him to South Central Hospital. It’s a gut wound. Those are—”
“Daddy!” Erik wailed as they slid the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.
“Unpredictable at best,” he finished. “You might want to call the rest of the family.”
For a tick, I thought I’d faint. The emergency tech took one look at me and added, “Better get yourself checked out, too. Can’t be too careful. Don’t drive. Is there someone who can take you?”
“Yes.”
With a curt nod, he turned and ran toward the vehicle. The lights were rotating, and the siren blaring as they spun their wheels and raced away.
“Shhh.” I scooped up the sobbing child who had tangled himself in my skirt. This time, I hiked his makeshift kilt up around his naked thighs so he could wrap his legs around me. The boy cried and hiccuped alternately, as I turned back toward the house. Resting his wet face against me, Erik smelled like peanut butter, his newest official favorite food.
“You Mrs. Lowenstein?” A uniformed officer came wheeling out of the kitchen door.
“Mrs. Detweiler, as of an hour ago.” I stroked Erik’s back.
“You sure know how to throw a wedding party.” He gave me a gap-tooth grin. Like most young cops, he was buff and clean cut. Leaning close to me so Erik wouldn’t hear, he asked, “You aren't bleeding are you? Detective Detweiler told the medics you are fine.”
“This is his blood.”
“Let's get you inside your house and cleaned up. You're bound to be freezing. My name's Harry Whooli. I work with Stan and Chad, but I’m off duty. I heard the call, and Detweiler’s always been good to me, so I thought I’d see if I could lend a hand. Who's this young man?”
“Erik? Say hello to Officer Whooli.”
Erik responded by screaming, “Daddy! I want my daddy!”
“Honey, it’s okay. Sh, sh.” I rocked the blubbering boy.
“Do you always wear a blanket, bub? Were you playing cowboy and Indians? My brother and I used to do that.” Harry gave Erik a winning grin. “You are one brave dude. I heard your mama threw a pitchfork at a guy.”
This caught Erik’s attention. “Yes. Mama Kiki did.”
“Wow. Did she really? That is seriously cool.”
“I was going to hit him with a bucket.”
“Way to go, pal. Got to protect our womenfolk, huh? Give me five.” Harry presented his palm for a hand slap. Erik’s tense little body relaxed some in my arms.
“Not trying to be overly familiar, ma’am.” Harry spoke in a low voice as he wrapped an arm around me. “But you’re looking a bit green around the gills.”
“That’s nothing compared to how I feel.”
CHAPTER 9
Even with Harry’s help, I stumbled a bit. Erik was heavy, and the slick snow was still icy. My knees were growing stiff as the blood scabbed over.
As we moved across the snowy yard, I noticed activity just beyond the gazebo to our right. A small knot of people were moving around a pair of legs on the ground. With a start, I realized that one of the gunmen had been felled. Was he dead? Merely hurt?
I didn’t know.
As long as he was out of action, that was all that matters.
Harry caught my eye and gave me the tiniest shake of his head. Acknowledgment that the guy on the ground was dead.
“Hey, dude? Tell you what? How about if I give you a piggyback ride?” Harry offered Erik a nifty distraction.
Rather than wait for Erik’s response, I offloaded the boy onto the cop’s back. The strangely bunched up blanket he was wearing caused Erik to have a precarious grip. But Harry hooked his arms under Erik’s thighs. Bless his heart, Harry knew the drill. He alternatively pranced and galloped while making horse-like noises. Soon Erik was fighting a smile. Leighton stepped out of the back door and rushed over to help me.
“How’s Lorraine?” I asked.
“She’ll be fine. It’s going to be all right.”
But I could tell he was worried.
“She'll be fine,” he repeated, more to himself than to me.
A sudden wave of exhaustion hit me hard. All I wanted was to lie down, but I couldn’t. Detweiler might need me. I had to get to the hospital, and I needed to let his parents know what was up. But how would they travel in this weather? The older Detweilers lived on a farm in Illinois. I knew from texting them this morning that many of the country lanes leading from their house to the main road were closed. On the prairie, there are few windbreaks, and blowing snow drifts easily. There’s no way that the road crews can keep the streets clear.
Brawny met us at the door. “I can take her from here, Leighton. Let me help Kiki upstairs and get her changed. Erik’s having a grand time in the living room with his sister.”
Walking me up the stairs, she kept one arm under my elbow. “Go slowly. You’ve had a shock.”
“Do you know what happened?”
“Two gunmen. I hit one of them with my knife. The dogs took out after the other. Detweiler and Hadcho were both s
hot before they gave chase, but I didn’t realize that they were hurt. Both of them kept moving. Adrenaline will do that for you. So while they were chasing the man running away on foot, I checked on you and the children. Then I got Lorraine and Leighton inside the house. From there, they called nine-one-one while I was out trying to track down the second shooter. You know, of course, that he got away from me. I stopped to assist Hadcho. He was lying in the snow, bleeding. Anya says the second gunman turned up in the shed.”
“Yes.”
“But you dispatched him handily.”
“I clipped his right shoulder with a pitchfork.”
“Brave girl.” She gave me a nod of approval. With her hair pulled back in its usual tidy ponytail, Brawny usually looks rather severe. But that smile always reminds me there’s another side to her. I see it as she tenderly cares for the children. “Is any of this blood yours?”
“Just my hands and knees. I was crawling across the floor for the gun. Oh! Detweiler stuck it in his waistband. I wonder if they noticed it in the ambulance?”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s get you cleaned up and changed. Harry has offered to drive you to the hospital. I need to make a statement. A detective is on the way. He’ll want to talk to the kids. To Lorraine, and Leighton, too.”
I pulled away to study her face. “Is Lorraine going to be okay?”
Brawny nodded. “She’s had a bit of a shock, what with the tumble off the gazebo, but she’ll be right as rain. It’s you and your baby we need to worry about now.”
Inside the master bathroom, she used a warm washcloth and gently dabbed off the worst of the mess. Once my skin was visible, we could see it was a simple matter of abrasions. As she helped me take off my wedding gown, I started crying. I’d tried to stay strong, but I couldn’t contain the sadness.
“It’s such a beautiful dress, and now…”
“I’ll get the stains out. Don’t worry yourself. It’ll be good as new.”
“This wasn’t how I expected—”
Her gray eyes locked onto mine. “You’re alive. We’re all going to be fine, even the detective. Think what a story this will be to tell your grandchildren!”
That was Brawny’s gentle admonition for me to “buck up,” and I did. While I pulled off my slip and my stockings, she found clothes for me. As she helped me tug a stretchy blouse over my head, I flashed back to a scene from my childhood. My mother used to help us get our clothes on. She’d tug and jerk and pinch us. By comparison, Brawny’s touch was tender. I appreciated her kindness. God had blessed me with wonderful friends who had come into my life in unexpected ways.
Once I was dressed, Brawny steadied me as I made my way down the same stairs I’d just climbed. The effort completely tuckered me out, but I couldn’t just go and lie down on the sofa. I needed to be by Detweiler’s side.
Brawny must have read my thoughts. “Let me get the children settled. The detective should be here any minute, but he can wait until I call Louis and Thelma. Then I’ll meet you at the hospital, providing that Lorraine and Leighton are well enough to take over here.”
“Are we sure there were just two gunmen? What if they come back?”
“I’m fairly confident there was just the two of them. But I’ll talk to the Webster Groves police about that possibility. Leighton can handle a pistol, so I’ll make sure he’s armed if I leave the house. If the children are inside, the dogs will protect them.”
“But Brawny, who were they and what did they want?”
Brawny sighed. “I wish I had an answer for ye.”
Over the years I've managed to get involved in a variety of mysteries. One or two have been resolved, sending people off to jail. Was it possible that one of them had come gunning for me? Of course, Detweiler sent people away regularly as part of his job. So did Hadcho. Which one of us had so infuriated someone that they'd decided to take potshots at my family? Even more puzzling, how had they known we would be here, outside in our yard, on this snowy day?
That last question was a real puzzler, one that I turned over and over in my head as Harry drove me to the hospital.
We only decided yesterday that we'd get married this very morning. Christmas was over. Detweiler had cleared his desk, except for one ongoing investigation. He needed to get Robbie and Hadcho up to speed, but he could do that from home.
We started making calls and quickly rounded everyone up. Rabbi Sarah agreed to conduct the ceremony. Detweiler's family planned to drive over from Illinois. My sisters were going to put Mom in the car and drive across town. All my co-workers were going to be here, including Clancy Whitehead and her new boyfriend, Raoul. Sheila, my mother-in-law from my first marriage, and her husband, Police Chief Robbie Holmes were definitely planning to attend.
Such were their intentions, but in the end, the weather changed everything. A cold front changed directions unexpectedly. Rain began late yesterday. It continued throughout the night and turned to ice that brought down branches all over town. The news stations went on and on about people trapped in their homes by broken limbs and fallen trees. Those who managed to leave the premises didn’t fare much better. Many spun out on “black ice,” pavement that didn’t look icy but was. By nine a.m., the roads were littered with abandoned cars. Television and radio reporters encouraged people to stay home, but human nature being what it is, some took this as a challenge. For every two people who climbed in their cars and motored around town safely, another driver skidded off the roads or stalled out.
In the end, Detweiler and I called everyone back and begged them to stay home. Most of them couldn’t make the short trip anyway. According to a breathless Robbie, he and Sheila were actually prisoners in her home. An old tree had fallen, blocking her driveway. I couldn’t remember a tree so close to her house, but it’s easy to underestimate how tall something is.
As Chief of Police, Robbie knew every detail of the conditions of the roads throughout the area, and he briskly urged us to postpone the ceremony before adding, “I’ve got to go.”
He hung up before I could say goodbye.
I had just hung up from talking to Rabbi Sarah when Lorraine Lauber tapped me on the shoulder. “At the risk of sticking my nose in where it’s not wanted, I thought I’d at least offer my services.”
“Your services?” I repeated.
“Yes. I’m an ordained Unity minister. Since you have the license, and everything else is a green light, I’d be happy to marry the two of you, if you’d like. You can always have another ceremony later, but at least you’d be officially Mrs. Detweiler before the baby comes.”
I glanced at Detweiler to see what he was thinking. Wordlessly, he shrugged. After a moment of thought, he said, “That’s not a half-bad idea. Given the sort of family drama that usually accompanies a big day, maybe this is for the best. We'd talked about eloping, and this is the next closest thing. We have all the privacy of a secret ceremony and none of the guilt. No one can blame us for going ahead. They know we’re worried about making it legal before the baby comes.”
“That's one way to look at it.” I smiled. “Truth is, this storm has scared off everyone who is a non-essential. Not that we don't love them. We do. But really all we need is the kids and each other.”
“Don’t forget me.” Hadcho wandered in from the next room. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa last night while watching a movie. “I’m here. I’m important.”
Detweiler and I burst out laughing.
“Well, Hadcho. That makes you a wedding crasher, doesn’t it?” I put my fists on my hips and tried to look stern. “Welcome to our very, very private affair.”
Private.
Except that somehow word had been leaked to two men who had determined that this was a great day to come and use my family for target practice. Why? How? Who? And how badly had they hurt Detweiler?
This didn’t make a bit of sense.
CHAPTER 10
After pulling up under the emergency awning, Harry hopped out and opened my door. But wh
en he saw me, he hesitated. “He’s a tough guy, Mrs. Detweiler. He’ll come through this. You just watch.”
That was the first time anyone had called me “Mrs. Detweiler,” and I cried even harder. “It isn’t fair.”
Instantly I heard how childish that sounded.
“It’s not. But you know how life goes. Nothing is fair. Nothing is totally just. But we fumble along with what we’re dealt. The bad stuff forces us to appreciate our blessings.”
“I've never seen Detweiler hurt. Not like this. Will it always be this way? Being a cop’s wife?”
Harry grinned, but his eyes didn’t smile. “I sure hope not. Otherwise, how am I going to convince a pretty young thing to marry me?”
With that, he helped me out of the car. My legs were as elastic as rubber bands. The realization that Detweiler might not make it shook me to the core. How would I carry on without him? He'd been my rock for years. And again, I found myself thinking, It just doesn’t seem fair. Then I chided myself for being such a baby. But I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself, was I? I was feeling bad for my husband and friend. All that Detweiler had ever wanted was a family, his own kids, and the same day he got his wish, someone tried to end his life?
What’s with that?
As Harry and I trudged to the pneumatic glass doors, my spirits sank deeper and deeper. Was it my fault for waiting so long to say yes? If I'd agreed earlier, we could have said our vows in a nice warm church or at the temple.
Where a tag team of gunmen could have wiped out an entire congregation.
Maybe we'd inadvertently made a good choice. Maybe even a great one.
“Give me a sec,” I said, standing just inside the ER. I wiped away my tears.
“You take all the time you need,” said Harry. “You have to be strong for him. You can't fall apart when you see him.”
“Right.” I mentally steeled myself. “Let's go.”
CHAPTER 11
Shotgun, Wedding, Bells Page 3
