by Dale Mayer
“Oh, dear. I forgot too.” She was still in her pajamas. She raced to the closet, and, while talking to Mack, she quickly dressed. In the distance she could hear a big truck approaching. “Someone’s coming now. With any luck that’s Willie.”
“Give me a call when you’re done.”
Promising to do that, she hung up and raced downstairs to put on coffee. No way could she garden without coffee first.
As soon as it was dripping, she headed out to the front yard, and there was Willie, backing up a big old flatbed truck with several appliances on it. She went back inside to her purse, pulled out the one-hundred-dollar bill Nan had given her, and walked outside again.
He waved good-naturedly, and he and his son loaded up the old stove. Then he walked toward her with a piece of paper in his hand. “Forgot to leave you this. It’s an invoice. Barry owed me a favor, so no charge for his services.”
Nervous, her heart in her throat, she glanced down at it. With relief she realized the bottom price tag was, indeed, one hundred dollars. She smiled at him broadly. “I think you gave me more than a fair deal on this.”
He shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Couldn’t have you cooking with that old thing in there. Besides, I got a lot of these going through the store. It won’t hurt me to give one away at cost. And you having helped the community and all, finding those poor men …”
That was unexpected and much appreciated. “Thank you.” She handed him the hundred-dollar bill she held in her hand.
He nodded, pocketed it, and helped his son load up the rest of the dump stuff.
“You’re okay with taking all that to the dump?” she asked anxiously. In the back of her mind she was afraid he would turn around and ask for ten bucks more.
He just tossed a hand in the air and waved at her.
She smiled. “Thank you again.” She went in her house, closing the door. She danced down the hallway at the great deal she’d gotten on the stove, even if she didn’t know how to use it yet. Everybody loved a bargain, and, in her situation, she loved it even more. In a way, it was like she got paid to help the police last week by getting this wonderful stove.
As the coffee finished dripping, she grabbed a cup and went back to check on Willie and his son. They were just loading up the last bit. She watched as they flipped up some weird sides to the flatbed and closed up a piece along the back of it. Both men got into the cab and drove away.
What a smart truck. It could be a flatbed or a pickup truck. Well, not so much a pickup, as it was definitely bigger than that. Still admiring the truck, she folded her tarp and tucked it away in the garage.
Satisfied that everything was back to normal, she turned and walked back into the kitchen. Her half piece of pizza was in a baggie on the kitchen ledge. She ate it cold, mumbling to Mugs sitting there looking at her anxiously, “Should have made Mack leave me the last piece too, for breakfast.”
With the final bite in her mouth, she washed it down with coffee. Then fed the animals. When done, she poured a second cup, then called Mack back. “Willie was just here. He collected the old stove and all the stuff so far from my garden. He gave me an invoice and stuck to the original price.” The last bit was said with surprise in her voice. “I couldn’t believe it. The invoice was for the hundred dollars.” And she rushed to add, “He said Barry owed him a favor, so no charge there either.”
Mack gave a big whistle on the other end of the phone. “Lucky you.”
“Yeah.” She still grinned in delight. “When do you want me over there?”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes, of course I have,” she fudged, if the half piece of pizza counted. “I’m having my second cup of coffee.”
“Put another cup in a travel mug and come on over. If we get at it, you could be done early afternoon. You can go home and have the rest of the afternoon to yourself.”
“Sure. Sounds good.” As she put her cell phone on the kitchen table, she spoke into the air. “Mack, remember I don’t have a job. I get every afternoon to myself.” With that, they ended their call.
But he made a good suggestion about a travel mug. She’d seen one somewhere. She walked to the front hall catch-all closet. She found a windbreaker and grabbed it since the weather looked ugly outside. Then she pulled out several travel mugs. One looked relatively clean. She took it to the sink, washed it, and filled it with coffee. It nicely emptied the pot. She put on her gardening shoes, grabbed the windbreaker, found her gloves, and led her menagerie out the back door.
“Let’s go, everyone. We’re heading off to Millicent’s garden again today.”
The animals obediently fell into line, always happy to go on an adventure. She had to admit lately that there’d been a lot of them. Coming around the back corner of her property, she could see no sign of activity at the creek, thankfully.
By the time she arrived at Millicent’s backyard, it appeared to be completely empty too. No police anywhere in sight.
She didn’t want to disturb anybody, so she headed to the garden where the begonias had been. She peered around in the dirt, but the wooden box was gone, and it looked like they had dug a few feet around it but obviously hadn’t found anything more, or at least there was nothing to show they had found anything.
Pulling on her gloves, she walked toward the bed where the begonias would live now. Definitely some weeding needed to be done. Not to mention the new bed was full of daisies from what she could see.
As she dug, she had to work around a plethora of daffodil bulbs and tulip bulbs. The begonias would fit in here nicely, but they definitely needed more dirt.
Mack walked outside just then. “I didn’t hear you arrive.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you.” She motioned at the bed. “It’s already full of spring bulbs and daisies.”
Mack frowned. “Right. I remember that. Of course. That’s why the bed looked mostly empty. What do you want to do with them?”
She shrugged. “We could do borders. There’s an awful lot of bulbs, but I don’t know what colors they are.”
Millicent arrived on the deck. “There you are, bone lady. How are you this morning?”
Doreen didn’t correct her. She’d gone from body lady to bone lady. Neither was appealing, but, at the same time, the nickname could be much worse. And bone was better than body. She smiled and waved. “I’m doing well. How are you?”
Millicent shrugged. “Now that all those strangers are gone from my yard, I’m much better.”
Doreen chuckled. “I hear you there. Where would you like all these spring bulbs? If we put the begonias here, it’ll be crowded. This bed appears to be full already. Daffodils, tulips, crocuses, … not to mention daisies …” The words escaped her for the moment, but Millicent spoke loudly.
“My hyacinths are in there too.” She frowned. “They probably should be thinned out anyway. We haven’t touched that bed in years. It’s got to be completely overgrown.”
Doreen looked at Mack and whispered, “It would have been nice to know that first.”
He shrugged. “Where would you like to put them?” he asked his mother.
Millicent called out, “Give me a minute, and I’ll come down.”
After that, they spent several hours discussing good and bad options. Doreen wouldn’t be finished here today. Now that she had to move and replant all the bulbs already in this other bed, she set up a plan with Millicent to get to work today and then several more days during the coming week. With that in mind, she spent many hours digging up bulbs. When she looked up, Mack was long gone.
And there was no sign of Millicent. Doreen walked to the front to see if anybody was home, but the vehicles were gone.
Shrugging, she decided to call it a day. Besides, she wanted to return to the creek and see if anything had surfaced there.
As she walked past the begonia bed, she stopped, glanced back at the house, and then walked to where the box had been. They couldn’t replant anything in this bed until Mac
k picked up more gardening materials for it.
The beds needed topsoil for a start. And she didn’t think that was on his list for today. Although maybe that was where they’d gone now. But he hadn’t said anything to her. As far as she could see, she was alone. She had dug out the bed yesterday before the police ruined the begonias but couldn’t do more until Millicent returned. Leaving the shovel and the spade in the garden bed, she headed toward the stream. She should have brought a shovel with her. But the police officers had already gone over the creek pretty intensely. Still, she stopped at the spot where she and Mack had found the pretty ivory box and the ring, then walked to the spot where she’d found the hand.
“It absolutely makes no sense to have two parts from different bodies here.”
Shrugging, she headed home. “Come on, guys. Let’s go. We have some research we need to do.” Back at home, she put on the electric teakettle, ready to sit down with her laptop to read through the library articles. Her stomach grumbled. She got up and snagged an apple from the fridge.
As she read and munched, she wrote down notes: the time frame that Betty had been here, when she’d gone missing, what her family had been doing. Doreen had learned very quickly that, in the criminal world, one always had to look at the family first. Some of that information was going to need to come from Mack. He’s the only one who could check for any criminal records of other family men. Then again he would tell her to butt out.
Still, she jotted down a note to get Mack to cross-reference the family members. She kept looking but couldn’t find much else on Betty’s parents.
Doreen studied her notes. Two jewel heists at the same time had to be connected. If it was the girl’s handiwork, Doreen didn’t blame Betty. She was just a young kid, obviously under the influence of somebody older and wiser. But was it her father? Or her mother? Or someone else?
And where were the other family members? Doreen had found a mention of an older brother, Randolph, but that was all. And she couldn’t find any background on him. If he was smart, he’d left town and created a life away from his criminal family’s publicity. But where was Betty’s mother? Doreen did a quick internet search for a Miles living in Kelowna and found no hits.
But it did bring up the earlier slapping incident in her mind. Who the hell was the woman who had walked up on Doreen’s property and then hit her?
As she got upset about that all over again, Mack called. “You never did tell me the name of the woman who hit me,” she stated without any greeting.
“Hi, Mack. How are you, Mack?” he said. “Remember social Ps and Qs and general niceties?”
“Screw that. I spent fourteen years in a rotten marriage with all those social niceties, largely insincerely exchanged too. How about the truth for a change?”
He laughed. “I didn’t tell you because I figured you’d immediately talk to her.”
“I do have that right,” she said quietly. “She accosted me on my own property.”
“I know. I will have a talk with her. But I want to do it, not you.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because she was Betty Miles’s best friend.”
“Wow.” Doreen sat back, not sure what to say. She turned to face her laptop. “So it was Hannah. That’s fantastic.”
“Why is that fantastic?” Mack asked cautiously.
She laughed. “Because now maybe we can get some answers. I’ve been going over all these articles from back then. Did you know Betty Miles’s father was a robber?”
Mack was silent on the other end. “I think there was something criminal in his history, but I don’t remember the details.”
“According to the news articles from thirty years ago, Betty was carrying certain jewels on her when she left. That was per her father. Her mother said she didn’t know anything about it, and then, two years later, her father was charged and convicted of a robbery.”
“But he robbed the place where he worked, if I remember it correctly,” Mack said. “He filed the report for the insurance.”
“Sure, but he owned his business,” Doreen argued.
“And it was a jewelry store,” Mack added.
This time she got dead silence.
She grinned. “Gotcha.”
Chapter 22
Tuesday …
For the next two days, things were quiet—absolutely nothing happened as far as finding dead bodies or even parts of dead bodies. All Doreen did was research, garden in her yard or Millicent’s, plus visited with Nan. They had that breakfast together as promised. This afternoon, Doreen thought, maybe the world would leave her alone now. She wasn’t overwhelmed with reporters anymore. If she could avoid being seen at Millicent’s house, then the media wouldn’t make the connection between her and the newest body parts. At least she hoped. But then Mack’s orders to do a press blackout about the bones found at his mom’s house must have included the arm and hand found in the creek, as Doreen had seen no mention in the press about any of those finds. And that was really helpful too, as far as Doreen’s infamous reputation was concerned.
Not that she believed this gossipy town wasn’t going to get a hold of this juicy news—regardless of the blackout. Just the presence of the police would get the grapevine buzzing.
Which reminded her … She pulled out her phone and sent Mack a text. Still looking for the name of the woman who attacked me. Did you talk to her?
The response was instant. He called Doreen to say, “Not yet. Forget about her.”
“No. The next time I see her, I am going to talk to her. So it’s in your best interests to give me the name now.”
This time, when the answer came, it was in a much lower voice. “Hannah Theroux. Don’t do anything criminal.” And he hung up.
Doreen walked to her laptop, put down the ever-present cup of coffee that had become her at-home addiction that she could barely afford, and typed in the name. Hannah Theroux was part of one of the founding families of the area. They’d been here since … She tried to do the math and gave up. She went with forever and grinned at that.
“In that case they should know damn near everything I need to find out.”
Mugs growled beside her. She looked down at him. His hackles rose as he stared at the back door. “What’s the matter, Mugs? What do you see?”
Mugs jumped to his feet and barked. She never quite understood that philosophy. If she didn’t say anything, he would normally sit here, content to growl a little in the back of his throat. But the minute she told him it was nothing, he became an aggravated guard dog.
With everything else that had been going on in this crazy world of hers, she wouldn’t ignore Mugs’s warning. She stood and glanced out the window, then opened the back door and stepped out. Mugs raced into the backyard. “Mugs! Mugs, get back here,” she shouted.
Mugs ignored her. He was intent on whatever it was he saw. Unfortunately she couldn’t see anything. As she stepped down the few steps of the deck and walked across the yard, Mugs disappeared around the corner in the direction where they’d found the body part. And that immediately made her suspicious.
She sneaked up to the side of the fence and peered around the corner. Sure enough, there was a reporter, the same woman who had been in her front yard. Doreen gasped.
The woman turned, caught sight of Doreen, and cried out, “There you are.”
Doreen shook her head. “What are you doing back here?”
The woman gave her a fat smile. “Not trespassing. This is city property.” She motioned at Mugs. “I see your dog is as well-trained as you are.”
Doreen’s back stiffened. “Excuse me? In what ways am I not well trained? And what kind of comment is that coming from you?” She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and hit Video.
The woman snorted. “You won’t give us the time of day for an interview.”
“So that means you can insult me?”
The cameraman nudged the reporter, but Sibyl wasn’t listening to him. She finally had a chance to
talk to Doreen, and she wouldn’t let this opportunity pass. “Ever since you arrived, you’ve been nothing but a headache in this town.”
“The headaches were here long before I got here, and you are welcome, by the way. Because, other than this, you’d be left covering the annual bake sale for beagles.”
The woman stiffened. From the look of laughter in her cameraman’s face, Doreen realized it probably was the truth.
The reporter sniffed. “If you wouldn’t terrorize the innocent residents of this town, it would be a lot easier to talk to you. But, as it is, you’re one pain in the ass.” The woman lifted her nose and glared.
Doreen studied Sibyl for a long moment. “You never gave me your last name.”
“And I won’t give it to you now.”
She hadn’t caught sight of the woman for very long, but there was a definite … “You’re a Theroux, aren’t you?”
The woman’s face paled. The cameraman looked surprised.
“I see the resemblance. So was that your mother or your sister or an aunt who assaulted me?”
The woman shouted, “Nobody assaulted you. And certainly none of my family.”
Doreen leaned a little closer. “Are you sure about that?”
The woman paled even further. She turned to look at her cameraman. “Let’s go, Robert. Nothing to be seen here.”
“And stay away from here. Do a story about Hannah Theroux—who I’ll be talking to my lawyers about—going to jail.”
The woman trembled. “Hannah? You were talking to Hannah?”
“No, I was not talking to Hannah. She attacked me. Came to my house and smacked me across the face. I am sure you loved that. Maybe you even put her up to it.”
The woman shook her head, her hands gripping and ungripping the microphone in her hand. What the hell did she need a microphone for?
But Doreen was much too wary of reporters. “And, if you’re recording this, I’ll definitely have my lawyers come after you too.”
Robert held up his hand. “Camera isn’t on.”
“Doesn’t mean audio isn’t,” Doreen said, pointing at the microphone.
