by Dale Mayer
Surely by now he’d be used to her though, so she voted for the bone she found in the begonia bed being what upset him. It would certainly keep her attention for a while. Maybe longer than a while actually. As she made her way to her backyard to walk around the partially dismantled fence, her animals dispersed, and she stopped and stared. “We’ve made a bigger mess than ever. What are we going to do about that?”
“Hey,” a bright cheery voice called from the side of her house.
Doreen turned to frown at the stranger coming toward her. “May I help you?” she asked politely. She was almost more determined to get a new fence up across the front, including the driveway, than she was worried about taking this one apart. Since the media had found out about the murder cases, they’d been all over her property.
The woman extended a hand, but she was a little too perfectly coiffed to make Doreen happy. She’d seen women like her a lot over the years. This one had entered her backyard without an invitation, making her someone Doreen really didn’t want to talk to.
Yet manners always came to the forefront. Her soon-to-be ex-husband had drilled that into her all the time. It didn’t matter if she liked somebody or not. Smile and use those manners to your advantage. She plastered her bright society smile on her face and shook the woman’s hand.
“My name is Sibyl. I’m here from the Kelowna newspaper. You’ve been giving all kinds of interviews to the big television and newspaper reporters, but you haven’t done an exclusive for us yet.”
Doreen bared her teeth. “And I won’t either. And now that you’ve identified who you are, you can please remove yourself from my property.”
The smile fell from the woman’s face. “Oh, dear. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“There’s a reason why I’ve been avoiding the crowd in the front. It’s called I don’t want to talk to anybody anymore about this.” Doreen crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her fingers on her arm. “So please turn around and leave.”
“Well, maybe I’ll just ask you about the fact that our lovely police detective, Mack Moreau, is over here a lot still.” The woman’s tone turned insinuating and slimy.
Doreen tilted her head and pulled out her phone. “And he’ll be here in two seconds flat to arrest you for trespassing.”
The woman took a mock step back and raised her hands. “Oh, dear. Aren’t you feisty?”
The thing was, Doreen wasn’t kidding. As much as she wanted to fit into the community and to make this place her home, the last thing she wanted was to be hounded by reporters. She lifted the phone to her ear and said, “Mack, I’ve got a lady here …” She repeated the woman’s name and the newspaper she mentioned she worked for. “She’s making insinuations about your visits to my place and won’t leave my property. Please come and remove her.”
Mugs walked closer to the reporter and sniffed her shoe.
The woman jumped away and just missed Mugs lifting his leg where she’d been standing. “No, no, no. Don’t tell him that.”
Doreen snorted as she stared at Sibyl. “Why the hell wouldn’t I?”
And there she’d done it again. She’d only ever sworn since moving here. Not good. Yet another part of her loved it. The freedom to swear and to not have anybody chastise her publicly for it? … Priceless.
“Well, I didn’t mean to upset you,” the woman said as she backed up hurriedly.
“Really?” Doreen said. “I got the impression that not only did you try to insinuate yourself into my life and to pry information from me but you also were slurring Mack’s character, not to mention mine. And that’s called slander.” At that, she laughed inside. She’d heard her almost ex-husband say something almost identical to that at a party one time. She never thought that one of his party tidbits would be useful, but apparently this one was.
The woman quickly retreated, waved at her gently, and said, “How about I come back another day when you’re feeling better.”
“How about another decade when I no longer live here? And I’m feeling just fine, thanks,” Doreen snapped.
The woman turned and dashed around to the front of the house, almost tripping as Goliath dashed in front of her path.
Had he done that on purpose? I hope so.
At that point, she heard Mack’s voice in her ear. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you act like that before.”
And, to her mortification, she actually had dialed Mack. She’d just dialed half the digits, or so she thought. Instead she had completed the call, and Mack had been listening in on her conversation as she had yelled at the reporter. “Mack, I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she said, bewilderment in her voice. “This has been such a circus.”
His voice softened. “Take it easy. You have good reason to be irate. Let me know if she comes back, and I’ll have a talk with her.”
“Well, if she comes back, I’m likely to set one of the animals on her. Mugs didn’t like her. But I don’t think she even noticed when he deliberately lifted his leg.”
“He didn’t pee on her, did he?” Mack’s voice was raised in a fascinated horror.
“No, more’s the pity.” She shook her head. “The woman moved because of what I said. She doesn’t realize how lucky she truly is.”
Mack laughed. “You and those animals. Are you okay now?”
“I was okay before. I didn’t mean to dial your number. I was using the phone more as a prop to get her to behave. But I accidentally completed the call. I’m sorry you had to hear that. I’m really not as incapable of taking care of myself as I might seem.”
“You’re doing very well. Have a little self-confidence and trust in some of us, and you’ll be fine.” And just like that he hung up the phone.
She smiled and straightened her shoulders. Mack was right. She was doing much better. Hell, she’d helped him solve several murder cases. And that was huge. Maybe, if she could do it again, she’d get some respect from people around here and not just a macabre fascination. It pissed her off that the woman had been so bold and nervy as to come into Doreen’s backyard. Doreen wondered what her rights were as a homeowner.
She wandered around to the side of the house and stared out toward the front yard. The woman was there with her cameraman. And they were taking pictures of the front of her house. She understood from Mack that she could not do a whole lot about that. But damned if she would let them on her property.
She walked into the kitchen, locating a large piece of corrugated cardboard by the laundry. She picked it up, grabbed a permanent marker, and wrote NO TRESPASSING on the front, and then, on the bottom, she wrote TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED. Walking back outside, she then grabbed one of the fence posts Mack had pulled out. An I-beam, he had called it.
She walked to the garden right at the front of the property, ignoring the cameras that clicked and whirled in her face. Several people called out to her. She ignored them all. Thaddeus joined her as she punched the cardboard through the post twice so the sign would stay up, then pushed the vertical metal post into the edge of the soft garden bed. Then she twisted it so people could see her sign. Without saying another word, she turned and walked to her front porch.
The people standing there gasped and said, “Well, I never.”
She stiffened her back and kept on marching, Thaddeus flew ahead to meet her at the door. Mugs wasn’t with her—he’d stayed in the garage. Smart dog. He didn’t like the nosy crowds any more than she did. Of Goliath, there was no sign.
She walked up to the front door and said, “Good riddance.”
As she stepped inside, Thaddeus turned and called out to the crowd, “Good riddance. Good riddance.”
She gasped, ran inside with Thaddeus at her heels, and slammed the front door shut.
Chapter 4
Back inside she headed for her kitchen and her trusty electric teakettle.
Her soon-to-be ex-husband always headed for the bottle when he found a situation stressful. When she’d lived with him, she’d always
gone to her room to get away. Tea had never been part of the equation. But now it was the solace she needed. And given what she’d been through, it was very necessary. Besides, it could be much worse. It wasn’t like she was pouring alcohol into her tea. Although, if she’d had any around, she might today. But with money so tight, she had none to spare for such an indulgent item.
She put the teakettle back on, glaring at the stove. If only she could figure out how that thing was supposed to work properly. She knew all about cooking shows and cooking videos and stuff, but somehow, whenever she tried a recipe, it ended up being a big mess or only half done. And she just didn’t understand how it was all supposed to go together. She wondered about taking a cooking class, but again there was the money issue. On top of that, she didn’t want anybody to know how absolutely inept she was in the kitchen.
Nan had told Doreen that boiling eggs was simple, just a pot of water and eggs. But she had yet to try it. Partially because of the damn stove. She couldn’t seem to get it to light properly. She should have mentioned it to Mack.
She pulled out her phone, intending to call him, but realized how much she’d been leaning on him lately. That wasn’t fair to him. As long as she had an electric teakettle, she could plug that in and have tea and broth. She also had a microwave and was learning to use that.
With another cup of tea she headed back outside to the rear garden. As soon as she stepped out the kitchen door, she saw the mess from the fence. She sighed, but was distracted as Mugs ran straight for the open edge along the creek. “Mugs, you stay on the property,” she warned.
Mugs turned to look at her. And then, ignoring her, wandered to the other side of the gate. The gate still stood, which was foolish because the fence around it was gone.
Stepping back into the house, she rummaged in Nan’s messy front hall closet and found a pair of gardening gloves. They weren’t very thick, but they would do for the moment.
Taking her tea, she walked back outside again and sat on a big rock. With the clippers, she cut apart the wire fencing. She laid the poles neatly on one side, then, with manageable pieces of the wire fencing, stretched them out and stacked them up. It was hot, dusty work. But it was honest work, and she appreciated that. It was also unpaid work. And that sucked big-time.
However, the weather was perfect for gardening work.
By the time she straightened and rubbed her lower back, several hours had passed. Still, she’d accomplished something. Even if only to unearth a rubber block, an old silt screen she couldn’t even begin to understand why Nan had, and a chipped pottery mug. She turned to look around to locate all her animals. Mugs had stretched out on the grass beside her, snoring. Goliath had taken a perch on top of the rock where she’d put her cup earlier. Of Thaddeus, she had no sign. She frowned and looked around. “Thaddeus? Thaddeus?” No answer. “Mugs, where’s the bird?”
Mugs didn’t even open an eye.
“Well, you’re no help.”
She stepped away from the fence line and turned around and laughed. She’d found Thaddeus. He sat on top of the neighbor’s fence. He’d chosen the corner fence post hidden behind an overgrowth of bushes and had perched there, surveying the world around him.
“How come you didn’t answer when you were called, Thaddeus?”
He turned, fixed her with a gimlet eye, and then immediately swiveled his head back in the direction he’d been staring. Curious, she walked closer, picking her way through the overgrown garden to see what the bird had found.
She peered around the neighbor’s fence, staring at the beautiful creek, and asked Thaddeus, “What are you looking at?”
In a voice that she hadn’t heard before, Thaddeus said, “Old bones. Old bones.”
She groaned. “You have a horrible turn of phrase. You know that, right?”
He made a weird cry and flew off the fence post. But Thaddeus wasn’t meant to fly anymore. Not only was one of his wings gimped but apparently the wing feathers were supposed to stay clipped so he couldn’t fly. She hadn’t done anything about it, but Nan had, although she had warned Doreen that he didn’t fly well anyway.
As she watched, Thaddeus made a half–crash landing at the edge of the brook, the long grass flattening beneath him.
She hated the thought that immediately came to mind. Seeing one dead body in the creek was more than enough for anybody. She headed over to see what Thaddeus was up to. He sat perched on a rock and just stared.
With her heart sinking, she walked closer. “What’s the matter, Thaddeus?”
Mugs, suddenly awake, barked and raced up behind her.
“I wasn’t going for a walk, Mugs.”
But Mugs ignored her and raced ahead to where Thaddeus sat. Mugs parked his butt with surprising force beside the parrot.
She laughed. “Well, it’s not like you’re a pointer or a search-and-rescue dog giving me signals. So I don’t know what the heck your problem is.” In fact, she’d never seen Mugs act like he had since they’d arrived here at Nan’s house.
She glanced back, but Goliath appeared completely unconcerned about their antics. In fact, his eyes were closed. She took the last few steps out to the edge of the creek and studied the water. “See? Nothing’s there, guys.”
But the dog and the bird weren’t listening. She took several more steps down the creek way, but she couldn’t see anything wrong or out of place. She smiled with relief. That was a good thing. She’d had her full share of dead bodies already.
The longer she looked, the better she felt. She motioned to Mugs. “Come on, Mugs. Let’s go home.”
Of course, she was already home, only a few feet past her property line. But still Mugs stared at the water, and so did Thaddeus.
She groaned and decided to play the game too. She walked over to stand directly behind them and asked, “What are you looking at?”
Just then an orange streak ripped past her, and Goliath appeared. Somehow he’d woken up, maybe realizing he was all alone. He approached the creek from a few feet up the path and hopped onto a rock in the middle.
“You like water?” Doreen asked in disbelief.
Goliath shot her a look.
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to make of it. It was a cross between Don’t be a stupid idiot and Of course I love water. All cats do. NOT.
She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts until Goliath also stared down at the water. Now all three of them, from different spots, were focused on a point in the middle. She groaned. “I don’t know what the hell you guys are looking at. Not sure I want to either.”
Nevertheless she grabbed a stick and poked the creek bed, which only had a couple inches of water in it at this spot. But, even as she poked it, the silt moved, and the water picked up the sand and carried it down the creek. And left the spot just underneath clean. And damn if she didn’t find something white and … creepy.
Was that another bone? “That doesn’t mean it’s a human bone,” she muttered, swallowing hard. “No reason to suspect anything human is here. It could be a raccoon bone. It could be a squirrel bone. Hell, it could be a rock.”
Yet seeing it reminded her of the other bone she’d found in Mack’s mom’s begonia bed. Even though it hadn’t been confirmed as a human bone, Doreen worried that it was.
But here? … She had to know for sure. She took off her shoes and socks and stepped into the water. And cried out, “Holy crap, that’s cold.”
She leaned down and brushed away whatever was half covering the item. As she picked it up, she laughed. “See? It’s not a bone at all, you guys.”
It was a small ivory case. With a lid. It was beautiful. She studied it and gave a crow of delight. Pretty etchings were on the side. “Will you look at this?” She tried to open the lid, but it was sealed or stuck. She flipped it around, looked at it, had no way to see what was inside—and didn’t want to shake the box for fear of breaking up whatever could be hidden there, if anything—but she did find a name on the underside.
&nbs
p; “Betty Miles,” she said out loud. She turned to the animals and said, “Nice discovery, guys. Maybe we could find this Betty Miles online and notify her. She probably wants us to return her property.”
As she stood admiring the little white box, a gruff voice from the other side of the fence beside her called over, “Who are you talking to?”
Doreen winced and fell silent. Then finally she gave it up and said, “I’m talking to Mugs, the dog.”
“Well, what the hell are you talking about that murdered girl for?”
Doreen fell silent. She stared at the name on the little white box and then at the fence, where she couldn’t see her neighbor standing on the other side. “What murdered girl?”
“Betty Miles,” her neighbor said in a querulous voice. “Isn’t that the name you just said?”
The neighborhood had made a point of fencing the entire back of the creek so they couldn’t even see the water. She didn’t understand why anyone would do that. “Yes, that’s the name. But I don’t know anything about her.”
“Not many people talk about her anymore,” her neighbor said.
Doreen wasn’t sure if the speaker was the husband, who she had met, or his wife. He was an older man. So Doreen suspected his wife was elderly too. There was just enough crankiness to the voice that it could be either one.
“At the time, there was a big media storm about it all,” the neighbor said in disgust, this time sounding more feminine. “Something like what’s going on out in front of our houses now. Ever since you found those damn bodies, there’s been no peace and quiet here.”
Doreen winced. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry about that.”
“No point being sorry. Just don’t do it again. Maybe these people will finally realize nothing is here to see, and they will take off. Can’t happen soon enough.”
She decided it must be the man from next door. There was just something male about the way he said those last words. “Hopefully they’ll leave soon.” She hesitated and then asked, “What can you tell me about this Betty Miles?”
