by Diana Orgain
Brooks watched me with Beepo, giving me the impression he was evaluating me. What did it mean if I was good with a dog? Did it mean I was loving, kind, nurturing?
I set Beepo down one of my deck chairs.
“Rachel didn’t kill Dan,” I said.
Brooks let out a sigh. “I believe you, Maggie. I don’t think she did, either, but her disappearance and now … well … we’ve uncovered a few things in her background,” Brooks continued, “that don’t look … well, I can’t say much right now. I hope you understand.”
“I don’t understand! What things?” Even as I asked, I knew I didn’t really want the answer. My voice must have sounded shrill, because Beepo leapt off the chair and scurried to my defense, growling and yapping at Brooks.
Doggie homeland security at its finest.
“Maggie, I can’t share all the details of the investigation.…” He reached out for my arm.
I shrugged him off. “Whose side are you on?”
He scowled. “I’m on Dan’s side and Oscar’s side. The side of justice!” His expression returned to solemn, reminding me this wasn’t a social call.
Why couldn’t he just be here asking me out on a date? What did I have to do with all these troubles?
It had been a stupid question. What could he have said?
Still, I was on Rachel’s side, that was for sure. I knew my sister and, yes, even though she was harebrained and impulsive and didn’t think things through, she wasn’t a murderer.
“If you find that Rachel did anything, I’m sure it was in self defense.”
Was that the right thing to say?
I probably should have argued that Rachel wasn’t a killer. Anxiety rippled across my chest. It seemed like there was no winning here.
Brooks pressed his lips together and looked out toward the ocean. The sun was getting higher, the heat wave in Pacific Cove would live another day. I tried to find hope in that. If the sun shone brightly that day, then everything would turn out all right … right?
“Rachel didn’t kill Dan or Oscar,” I insisted. “We know she’s not even in Pacific Cove … how could she have killed Oscar?”
Brooks sighed. “I want to believe that, too,” he said in a low voice. “But I can’t take sides like that. I have to follow all the leads.”
“Are there more leads? Who else are you looking into?” He was quiet, and I said in a mocking voice, “I’m not at liberty to say.”
He squared his shoulders toward me and narrowed his eyes. “Gus DelVecchio.”
I tried to repress the shudder that surged through me, but Brooks saw it anyway.
“Are you going to argue his innocence as well?”
I shook my head, feeling a bit defeated. I looked out at the Pacific for strength, and then asked the question I really didn’t want to know the answer to: “Was it his gun that killed Oscar?”
Instead of answering, Brooks countered, “Do you know if Rachel owns a gun?”
Nausea threatened, and I squeezed my eyes shut to ward off the sensation. This was a turning point, I knew. If I sided with my sister, I’d likely alienate Brooks, who I so desperately wanted to get to know better, and yet … she was my sister, protecting her was second nature to me. Even as I told the lie, I knew Brooks saw through me. “I don’t know.”
“Um hum, that’s what I thought,” he said, keeping his eyes on mine, as if to give me another opportunity to answer.
Instead, I asked, “What about Yolanda?”
Beepo barked sharply at me, sensing my betrayal of his lovely owner. Guilt hammered at my temples. How could I throw Yolanda under the bus after she had been so nice to me? But the instinct to protect Rachel was overwhelming.
“What about her?” Brooks asked.
“Yolanda was standing over Dan when I walked into The Wine and Bark on Friday night. She could have easily cracked him on the head—”
“Finding a body is not a crime,” he said.
“I heard from the singer of the Howling Hounds that Yolanda and Dan were fighting over the fund-raiser.”
Brooks said in a low patient voice, “Yolanda’s prints were not on the bottle.…”
“She could have worn gloves! She’s got thick leather driving gloves. She wore them the day we drove to…” I stopped myself short. I couldn’t complete my sentence without admitting I’d gone to Stag’s Leap looking for Rachel and found a semi-death threat to Dan instead. “And she just left town! She could be fleeing the scene—”
I knew I was grasping at straws, but couldn’t stop myself. Brooks leveled a gaze at me, a cross between pity and frustration. “I don’t think she’d leave Beepo with you if she was fleeing the scene.”
“Oh sure,” I said. “Defend her!”
“I’m sorry, Maggie. I just came over so you could hear it from me.” He turned and walked back through my living room, toward the door. He left without another word, the door to my apartment slamming alongside the one to my heart.
Chapter Twenty-three
Well, this was a fine how-do-you-do; now I was stuck with Beepo while I tried to figure out what in the world had happened to Dan and Oscar.
Their deaths had to be connected. Was Oscar killed because he’d seen something tied to Dan’s murder? When Brooks asked me about Rachel owning a gun, was it because Gus’s gun maybe wasn’t a forensic match to Oscar’s wound? Was Rachel’s? I hadn’t see her gun when I searched her apartment, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe she kept it locked up at the bar. I racked my brain to think of where she would keep it.
Beepo howled up at me and pushed his bowl over to me with his nose. I rummaged through the duffle Yolanda had left and dug out a bag of kibbles.
I poured a cup of kibbles into Beepo’s bowl. The sound of the kibbles knocking together drove him insane. He inhaled his meal and then, five seconds later, he looked up at me with pleading brown eyes. Just what was he thinking?
Please, give me another helping of food, I promise I won’t burst.
Ignoring him, I picked up my cell phone and scrolled through the virtual yellow pages, looking for the number to The Mirage in Vegas. How dare Yolanda tell me Rachel was there, then take off to Vegas without me, leaving me in charge of doggie day care!
While I was holding the phone, it rang in my hand, and I instantly thought Rachel was calling. We usually had a case of sister ESP. I clicked over and answered the call on the second ring.
“Is this Maggie?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
The gravity in the man’s voice unsettled me. Who was this calling and why? “Yes,” I said. “Who’s calling?”
“This is Benny.” Benny was my great-uncle’s horse bookie. If he was calling, the news couldn’t be good.
“What is it, Benny? Is my Uncle Ernest all right?”
“Sorry to have to tell you this, honey, but he’s in the hospital.”
“Oh my gosh, no.” My stomach cramped with worry. “What happened? Is he okay? Not another heart attack?” Beepo came to rest by my feet.
Did he sense my agitation?
“No, no, nothing like that,” said Benny. “He was dragged by one of the horses.”
“What? Dragged by a horse?”
“Yeah, I told him not to do it, but he was walking around the track—well, that’s probably no big deal. He’s done it a million times. I got a call on my cell phone, and I shouldn’t have been distracted like that, but I left him. Now I feel horrible. Something must have spooked the horse, because he took off running and your uncle got caught in the lead. Tangled up really bad and dragged a few yards.”
“Oh my Lord,” I said.
“Yeah. His shoulder’s pulled out of whack and he’s bruised up around the hip. I’m surprised he didn’t break a bone because, you know, at his age it doesn’t take much. I got to him fast, thankfully. Called an ambulance and now he’s in the hospital. He’s not hurt so bad, though, so I think they’ll release him soon, but probably not for a few days yet.”
Relief flooded me. Thank God th
at it sounded like Grunkly would recover.
“I’m on my way,” I said, hanging up. As I grabbed my bag, Beepo followed me around. “Not you, Beepo. I can’t take you a hospital.”
He yowled his complaint at me.
I pointed to his bed by the window. “Come on, I just fed you. By a dear and have a nap, I’ll be back before you wake up.”
Oh my God, I was talking to the dog now!
He looked at me unconvinced, but padded over to his bed and climbed in.
“That’s a good boy,” I said as I rushed out of my apartment. In fact, I stormed out so quickly I collided straight into a man. The man’s hands grabbed my arms and I screamed.
“Maggie, it’s me! Gus,” he said. “Don’t hit me again!”
Beepo barked from the inside of my apartment. Ah, he wanted to help me!
“Oh, Gus, you scared me. You have to stop sneaking up on me like that!”
“I wasn’t sneaking up on you, I was about to knock.”
He squeezed my arms and warmth zagged through my body. It seemed like we both noticed it at the same time because he suddenly let go and stuck his right hand into his jacket pocket.
“Um, the police released you?” I asked stupidly.
He nodded. “Yeah. They don’t have any evidence to charge me. I told them they weren’t going to find any, because I didn’t do it, but they made it clear they were still going to try to get something. Dan’s folks are in town; they went down to the station and spoke on my behalf. They told me they want to hire a lawyer for me.…” He sighed. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“I just got a call from my uncle’s friend, Benny. Grunkly’s in the hospital,” I said.
A worried look crossed Gus’s face. “The hospital? Is he all right?”
“I think so. Pulled his shoulder out and he’s bruised up his hips. I’m on my way to see him now.”
“Do you need a ride? I can take you,” he asked.
“That would be great.” I didn’t yet have a car in Pacific Cove and would otherwise have had to call a cab.
We exited my building through the front doors while I brought him up to speed on Grunkly’s accident. He gasped.
“He got dragged by a horse? That’s crazy!”
“I know, it’s scary. I’ve tried to talk him into letting Benny and his horse trainer, Aaron, take care of that stuff, but Grunkly is stubborn as a mule. Always has been.”
Gus and I walked toward a black BMW and he pressed the key fob in his hand. The car chirped in response and we climbed in. We drove the distance to Pacific Cove General Hospital. The day was warm, and for a brief moment I was able to put aside my worries about Rachel, Dan, and Oscar and actually enjoy the drive. But after a moment I began to feel guilty that I wasn’t fretting about Grunkly.
What would I do without him? Grunkly had always been a steady influence in my life.
I felt responsible for his accident, like it was my fault. I’d been so caught up in figuring out where Rachel was and running the bar that I hadn’t paid sufficient enough attention to Grunkly. I should have insisted he hire a new nurse and forbade him to go down to the track.
Gus glanced over at me.
A flush spread across my cheeks. Not to mention I’d been distracted by Gus. What was going on between us?
“Don’t worry too much, Maggie,” Gus said. “I’m sure your uncle will be fine.”
“Thank you. I’m worried about you, too,” I said.
He pulled into a parking spot and glanced at me. “Me? Why?”
“Because I think you’re right—the cops like you as a suspect. They like my sister as one, too, for that matter, which also worries me.”
He turned off the engine. “Do you know something I don’t?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure, Gus. I know Rachel didn’t kill Dan or Oscar.”
“Me too,” he said, getting out of the car and coming over to my side to open my door.
“But I have a bad feeling about the gun that was used,” I confided.
Gus held the door open for me and took my elbow. “Did Rachel own a gun?” he asked.
I grimaced. He sighed and walked me over toward the main hospital doors. Upon entering, we passed by a vacant nurses’ station and ducked into a hospital corridor toward Grunkly’s room. In the narrow passageway we intersected with Officer Brooks. Gus’s grip tightened around my elbow.
“Brooks, what are you doing here?” I asked. My voice suddenly sounded shrill in my ears. I flushed, feeling embarrassed, as if I’d been caught red-handed doing something naughty.
What did I care if Gus’s hand was on my arm?
It didn’t mean anything. I was simply taking solace in a friend.
“I came to talk to your uncle,” Brooks said. “He wanted to give a statement.”
“A statement?” I asked.
“Yeah, he said someone was on the track and they spooked the horse intentionally.”
A shiver raced up my spine. Someone intentionally scared the horse? “Who? Do you know who?” I asked.
Brooks shook his head. “He didn’t know. Didn’t really get a good look.”
“Was it a man or woman?” I asked.
Brooks pressed his lips together and glanced at Gus. I followed his glare. Gus released my elbow and quirked an eyebrow at Brooks.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” Brooks said, passing by Gus and I in the corridor.
I wanted to call after him, but I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I pushed open the door to Grunkly’s hospital room. My great-uncle was seated in bed, his arm in a sling and eyes glued to the screen mounted overhead. He was watching racehorses on TV.
“Mags, this horse has thirty-to-one odds to place.” There was a gray tray table in front of him with several packets of saltine crackers and a pitcher of ice water on it.
“How are you, Grunkly? You gave me quite a scare,” I said.
“Did Benny tell you? The horse dragged me. Pulled my arm right out of its socket. Doc says I’m going to need to go to physical therapy.” The way he said it made me certain he’d do anything but go to physical therapy. “But I’m fine, really. I’ll be ready to go home after this.” He indicated the TV.
Gus chuckled. I poked him in the ribs.
“Grunkly, I don’t think you’re going to be released today. Benny said you need to be observed overnight.”
Grunkly waved a hand at me, indicating he thought the prognosis was nonsense.
“Don’t listen to him, Maggie. I’m fine. Did you bring me some Lucky Strikes?”
Gus laughed again, and this time I turned to him and said, “You’re not helping.”
Grunkly saw Gus as his ally and smiled immediately.
“You got a car?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he moved aside the tray table. “I’m sprung!”
I pushed the tray table back into place. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re not sprung. You’re not in jail, you know, this is a hospital.” I suddenly remembered that Gus had likely spent the larger part of last night in a jail cell. Cringingly, I looked over at him and whispered, “Sorry.”
Gus gave me a little wink, letting me know I hadn’t offended him.
My great-uncle stared at us, his eyes wide. “I’m fine, Maggie. I’m telling you, I don’t need to be in here.” He patted his flat stomach. “I just need to get a little something to eat.”
Gus smiled. “Now you’re talking my language. I can bring you a special delivery later. Maybe a some chicken parmagiana or five-cheese ziti al forno? You tell me. What do you want?”
Grunkly’s jaw dropped, and I noticed the food talk was the only thing that drew his eyes away from the TV. “Now that sounds real good.”
Opening one of the saltine packages, I handed Grunkly a cracker. He made a face. “Let’s talk to the doctor first before we make any exit or dining plans,” I said. “Now tell us what happened.”
He recounted walking on the racetrack, training the horse, and seeing somebody spo
ok the horse.
“Who do you think it was?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I really don’t know, Maggie. We should ask Benny.”
“Where is he?” I asked.
As if on cue, Benny pushed open the door, holding a bag of Chinese takeout. Alongside the steaming white boxes was a small package wrapped in a brown paper bag. Benny shuffled the brown bag around while trying to distract me by pouring Grunkly a glass of water.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s in the package, Benny?”
Grunkly and Benny exchanged looks. “It’s nothing, Maggie,” he said, shoving the package inside his jacket pocket.
“Hand it over,” I demanded, laying my hand out palm-side up.
Benny made a face but gave me the bag nonetheless.
I peeked inside the brown paper bag and found cigarettes. “I can’t believe you!” I scolded. “You know Grunkly isn’t supposed to smoke.”
Benny looked properly chastened, but Grunkly ignored me completely. “Two minutes to post.”
I glanced at the TV. I knew I was about to lose their attention.
“Benny, who spooked the horse? Did you get a look at them? Was it a man or a woman?”
He said, “I’m sorry, Maggie, I didn’t really get a good look. I was on the phone.” He pressed his lips together in a semi-apology as he tore open one of the Chinese food boxes.
The bugle sounded and the horses were off.
“Go, baby, go!” Grunkly yelled.
And I knew I’d lost my audience.
Chapter Twenty-four
Gus sat on my couch while I fussed in the kitchen scrounging around for lunch. Beepo buzzed around my feet, presumably hoping for a treat. My fridge was stocked with frozen pizzas, carrot sticks, and ranch dressing. I couldn’t very well offer the premier chef of Pacific Cove anything frozen. I fought back the heartburn bubbling up that erupted just from thinking about cooking for Gus.
“I really don’t know what to offer you. Should I order takeout?”
He shrugged, listless. “Don’t worry about it, Maggie. I’m not hungry.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Do you have any beer?”
I pulled out a bottle of pilsner from my fridge and poured it into a tall glass for Gus. “Did Oscar say anything to you? Was he scared of anything or anyone?”
