“That’s for sure. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Now that school’s out for the day, I’ve got all the time you need.” Jenna pulled out a chair and motioned me to another. “What’s up? You’re not having problems with Davey, are you?”
“No, thank God. Davey’s great.”
“I’m glad. Shirley Cooke is pleased as punch with that class. Sometimes I stop Davey in the hallway and give him a hug. I tell him, pass that along to your mom. I bet he doesn’t, does he?”
“No,” I admitted.
Jenna only shrugged as if she expected as much. She’d always been a hugger. In the course of a school day, probably half the kids she came in contact with found themselves folded into her welcoming arms. Jenna was the best kind of teacher; the sort who genuinely cared about every one of her students.
“So what’s this about?” she asked. “You haven’t been back to my classroom in a couple of years, at least. So I figure it must be something important. Spill, girl. I’m sitting here waiting to hear.”
“It’s about Henry Pruitt.” I watched her closely, gauging her reaction. I liked Jenna too much to want to tread on any toes. “I was hoping you’d be willing to tell me a little bit about him.”
“Little bit?” Her brown eyes sparkled. “How much time do you have? Honey, I’ll tell you everything.”
20
“Everything?” I waggled my eyebrows like Groucho Marx.
Jenna laughed out loud. “That too, if you’re interested. Hey, for a guy his age, Henry had it going on.”
I held up a hand. Now I was laughing, too. “Please. Spare me the gory details. That’s not the kind of information I’m looking for. I just want to know—”
“How he ended up dead?” Jenna finished for me.
I nodded soberly.
“I wouldn’t mind knowing that myself,” she said. “It’s a real shame, a nice guy like that. Henry wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s hard to imagine someone wanting to harm him like that.”
I wriggled around in the small, child-sized seat until I was comfortable. “How long were the two of you together?”
“Probably three months, give or take. This was a year ago, pretty much old news if you know what I mean. Though we still saw each other around school and stuff. Henry was the kind of guy you’d stay friends with afterward.” Jenna stood and began to move around the classroom. “Listen, you don’t mind if I work while we talk, do you?”
“Not at all.” I watched as she began to erase the blackboard. A garland of silver tinsel was draped around the top and sides. “Want some help?”
“Not on your life. You just sit there and keep me company.”
I could do that. In fact, my next question seemed easier to ask when her back was turned. “If you don’t mind my saying so ... you and Henry don’t seem like the most likely couple.”
“Black and white, you mean?” Jenna finished erasing and turned to face me.
I shook my head. “Actually, I was thinking about the age difference. Henry must have been thirty years older than you.”
“You’d think it would matter, wouldn’t you?” She began to straighten a stack of books on the window sill. “Are you still with that same guy, what was his name? Sam?”
“Right.” I held up my left hand. “Still together. Now we’re engaged.”
“Good for you!” Jenna strode over, leaned down, and treated me to another hug. “And when were you going to mention that?”
My cheeks grew warm. “When it came up in conversation, I guess.”
“Girl, that is some diamond.” She lifted my hand and had a closer look. “Your guy got a brother?”
“No, sorry.”
“So when’s the date?”
“We haven’t set one yet.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “And what are you waiting for?”
“It’s . . . complicated.”
“So when isn’t it? If you’re going to let that one slip away, give him my number, okay?”
“Will do.” I was lying through my teeth. Jenna and Sam would make a gorgeous couple. Just the thought of them together was enough to make my hackles rise. “Back to Henry?” I said.
“Right, Henry. So what I started to say was about dating. I guess you’re not doing much of that these days, but I’m sure you remember what it’s like. Men, good men that you want to spend some time with, are not a dime a dozen out there. And most of the younger guys . . . guys my age?”
Jenna stopped and sighed. “Forget it. Either they’re still into going out with the guys and getting drunk, or they’re so wrapped up in their careers that they can barely remember your phone number, or they’re taken but the thought of settling down makes them panicky so they’re out there looking anyway.”
Been there, I thought. Though thankfully not for the last couple of years.
“Plus,” said Jenna, “those guys are busy all the time. They’re at work, they’re at the gym, they’re talking to their broker, they’re having dinner with Mama . . . I mean, give me a break! How the hell am I supposed to fit my fine self into a schedule like that?”
“Good question.”
“Well, Henry,” said Jenna, “was the answer. He was nice, he was available. He liked to talk. Even better, he liked to listen. Being with Henry was just . . . easy. You know what I mean?”
“Yes.” I could see that.
“And fun. Don’t get me wrong. That man was smart; he’d been places. You know he hadn’t always been a bus driver, right?”
“COO,” I said. “Sterling Management. I read about it in the newspaper.”
“Then you know what I’m talking about. Henry was living life on his own terms and nobody else’s. He retired because he wanted to, drove a school bus for the same reason. Henry wasn’t going to let anybody push him around or tell him how they thought he ought to behave. Not even his daughters.”
“You met them?” I asked.
“Once. That was plenty. They weren’t around much, thank God.”
“They’re back in town now. Sorting out their father’s estate and driving my Aunt Peg crazy.”
“Those two could drive a Mormon to celibacy. Not that Henry paid much attention to their complaining, but they sure made it clear that they didn’t approve of me.”
“Race?” I asked. “Or age?”
“Both. Either.” Jenna stalked around the classroom, neatening supplies and slamming cupboards shut. She stopped to straighten the Christmas wreath on the wall behind her desk. “Mostly I think they were just pissed he was involved with someone who wasn’t their mother.”
“I thought their mother was dead.”
“She is.”
Jenna took once last look around the now pristine room. She’d been generous with her time but I knew she’d be anxious to be heading home, or wherever it was she needed to be next. Men weren’t the only ones who were busy all the time.
“So with you and Henry getting along so well,” I asked, “what was it that broke you up?”
“Oh, you know. It was just time. Henry was the sweetest man in the world, but he wasn’t someone I was going to be serious about long-term. I want to get married and have a family. Henry’d already done all that. Plus, the race thing wasn’t making life any easier. He didn’t care what his family said, but I cared about mine. I never introduced him to any of my relatives, and there was a reason for that. I just knew there was going to be a big hassle.”
Jenna smiled wistfully. “Henry was a nice break for me, you know? Someone to hang with while I charged up my batteries before jumping back into the dating wars.”
“So as far as you were concerned, he was just a fling. Did he feel the same way about you?”
“Sure. When we moved on, there were no hard feelings on either side. Henry never had a problem hooking up with women. Right after we called it quits, he started seeing Carrie Baker. You know, Carrie from the office?”
“Another fling?” I asked curiously. I’d spent so long with Jenna that I
imagined Carrie would have already left. I wondered if it was worth my while to make another trip back to school.
“Not exactly.” Jenna replied.
“Oh?”
She glanced around, as though looking for eavesdroppers. “I wouldn’t want this to go any farther, you know? But when Carrie and Henry got involved, she got all wound up about it really fast. Like maybe she thought she’d found the man of her dreams, the man she was going to marry.”
I pictured Carrie Baker in my mind. Mid-forties, slightly overweight, beautiful blue eyes, kind smile. We’d worked together in the same school, but I’d never known her particularly well.
“How did Henry feel about that?” I asked.
“Remember those panicky guys we were talking about earlier?” Jenna grinned. “Like one of them. Carrie started pushing him pretty hard for a commitment and he wasn’t having any of it. Carrie always said differently, but I think in the end he just dumped her flat.”
“How long ago was that?” I asked.
“Sometime last spring, I guess.”
“And did Carrie get over it?”
“You’d think she would, wouldn’t you? But last time I saw Henry pass by the office, she was still glaring daggers at him.”
Interesting. It looked as though I was going to have to talk to Carrie after all.
I left Hunting Ridge and drove straight to the arts center where play practice was just letting out. Faith and Eve, who’d had to wait in the car while I spoke with Jenna, were delighted to see Davey come running out the front door as we pulled up next to the curb. The two big Poodles bounced up and down in the backseat, barking excitedly. Every few seconds Faith would look over and try to catch my eye, as if she were afraid that without her guidance I might miss seeing my own son.
No chance of that. Davey was already skipping toward the car before we’d even rolled to a stop. He could have opened the passenger-side door and climbed in next to me. Instead he went to the back, threw his backpack on the floor, and squeezed himself onto the already crowded seat with the two Poodles.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw only brief flashes of child. His small frame was enveloped by big black dogs, not to mention a surfeit of hair. There were giggles emanating from somewhere back there, though. I took that as a good sign.
“Seat belt?” I said.
“Got it.” Davey’s voice was muffled. Also choked with laughter.
His small hands came up and pushed Eve’s hindquarter out of his face. As I pulled out into the lines of traffic, Faith was already moving to the other side of the seat and settling in for the ride home. Eve, looking for room, turned a tight circle and lay down across Davey’s lap. If he held his head up really high, I could almost see his face over her topknot.
“How was play practice?”
“Great. We got to try on our costumes and wear them while we were saying our lines. Ms. Morehouse said it was almost like a dress rehearsal.”
Davey’s costume consisted of a sheet with an opening cut out for his head and a hem on the bottom so it wouldn’t drag on the floor. My sewing skills are limited, and this new effort looked suspiciously like a ghost costume I’d made for him several Halloweens ago. We’d found a piece of tasseled rope to tie around his waist as a belt, and a pair of sandals to complete the outfit.
“That sounds pretty exciting.”
“It was. Especially when one of the shepherds stepped on Mary’s veil and yanked it off her head, except that it was fastened to her hair which made her scream and she dropped the Baby Jesus. Joey went to pick him up, but he tripped over his costume and knocked two sheep off the stage.”
The Baby Jesus, thankfully, was only a doll. The sheep hadn’t been so lucky. My gaze flickered to the rear view mirror. “Anybody hurt?”
“Jamie Prescott lost a tooth, but he said it was supposed to come out anyway. His mom’s going to be mad, though, because when he flipped off the stage, he swallowed it.”
Like I said, never a dull moment around this family.
When we reached home, it turned out that the day wasn’t over yet. A vintage Volkswagen Beetle was parked out front. The quickly gathering dusk obscured the driver’s identity.
“Who’s that?” Davey asked as we pulled up the driveway and parked in front of the garage.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you take the Poodles inside and I’ll go see?”
It didn’t take long to find out. As Davey and the Poodles disappeared inside, Betty Bowen was already climbing out of the small car. She stalked over to the front walk and stood with her fists propped on her hips.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
“Is something the matter?”
“Yes, something’s the matter.” Her glare went to the door Davey had just closed behind him. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Yes, of course,” I said without thinking.
So in we went.
Davey, who’d been watching the exchange through the front window, stuck out a hand and introduced himself. His good manners are like variable weather patterns. You never know when they’re going to appear, and when they do it’s usually at the most inconvenient time.
“Hi, I’m Davey,” he said. “Would you like some cookies?”
“Cookies?” Betty’s frown softened ever so slightly.
Davey nodded. “Oreos and maybe some shortbread cookies. There’s milk, too.”
“Cookies would be nice,” said Betty. “Thank you. Your mother and I will be in the living room.”
It was like being relegated to minor character status in my own play. But since Davey and Betty seemed to have the situation under control, I took my cue and walked into the living room where I cleared the usual debris off the couch and a chair so we’d have some place to sit.
“What a nice child,” Betty said.
“Thank you. He is.” I waved her toward a seat. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“It’s that woman.”
“What woman? Robin? Laurel?”
“No, not them. Peg something . . . The one you brought to my house the other week. The trouble maker. Johnny told me all about her.”
Considering the brevity of our visit, I couldn’t imagine there’d been much to tell. Then I clicked on what she’d said. Aunt Peg had been making trouble? That was just what I needed
“Peg Turnbull is my aunt,” I said. “She’s the one who’s been taking care of Pepper and Remington until Henry’s daughters figure out what they want to do with them.”
“So I gather.” Betty’s thin lips were pursed. “She told me as much when she came to see me earlier.”
“Aunt Peg came to see you? Why would she do that?”
“That’s what I would like to know!”
Was it just me, or was this conversation beginning to travel in circles?
“Did you ask her?”
“As if I could get a question in. That woman walked into my house, sat down on my sofa, and began to interrogate me.”
“She walked in uninvited?” That didn’t sound like Aunt Peg. Well, on second thought, it did but—
“No, not uninvited!” Betty’s voice rose. “She rang the bell and I asked her in. Just like any neighborly person would do.” Her glare went to my front door, reminding me that I’d been remiss earlier. “I thought maybe there was something she needed, something I could help with. That was before I knew she was on a mission.”
Aunt Peg on a mission. Those were words to strike fear into even the most intrepid heart.
Oh lordy, lordy. We were all in trouble now.
21
“Umm,” I said, scooting forward to the edge of my seat.
“What exactly was her mission?”
“She said”—Betty’s voice quivered with outrage—“that she was investigating Henry’s murder. As if that woman looks like any sort of detective. Who hired her to do that? That’s what I’d like to know.”
Wouldn’t we all? I thought with a sigh.
> “What did Aunt Peg want from you?” I asked.
“Information. All sorts of information. And answers to hundreds of questions. She had a list.”
Hundreds, I doubted. Dozens? Probably.
Thankfully, I was saved from having to reply. Davey reappeared; the Poodles were with him. He’d also brought along a bag of Oreos. No napkins, no plate, no drinks. But hey, he’s only eight—at least he’d offered the cookies rather than eating them all himself.
“What’s the matter with that dog?” Betty was staring, rather rudely, at Eve.
Eve, on the other hand, was staring rather rudely at the bag of Oreos Davey had placed on the table. Somehow I didn’t think that Betty was referring to my Poodle’s bad manners.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Has she had surgery? Is that why she’s clipped like that?”
“It’s called a continental trim,” Davey said around a mouthful of cookie. “Eve wears her hair like that so she can go to dog shows. Pretty soon she’s going to finish her championship and when she does, Mom will cut her coat off so she can look like a normal dog again.”
“I see.” Betty reached for the bag. “Can she have a cookie?”
“No.” Quickly I moved between them. “It will only encourage her to beg, and besides, the chocolate isn’t good for her. Davey, why don’t you take the Poodles back to the kitchen and give them a biscuit?”
“That means you want to talk like grown-ups, right?” Davey grumbled.
“Right.” Not much gets past that kid.
“One of Henry’s dogs was a show dog, too,” Betty said as the entourage filed out of the room. “I can never remember which one.”
“Pepper. He came from a breeder named Cindy Marshall whose Golden Retrievers have done lots of winning.”
“That’s right. I never actually met the woman, but I remember seeing her around.”
That made me sit up and pay attention. “Seeing her around?” I repeated casually.
“You know, in the neighborhood.”
“I think you might have her mixed up with someone else. Cindy lives in New Jersey.”
Jingle Bell Bark Page 17
