Dead Eye

by Alyssa Day

  “I’m not trying to pin anything on anyone. I’m just wondering why I keep hearing the same names in different combinations. And now I’m wondering if I should buy two gallons of ice cream or three. Thanks for telling me about Chantal’s brother. I really need to be going.”

  I could tell Susan was frustrated with me, but I wasn’t going to put up with anybody accusing Jack of anything. He was my partner, and he was practically family—or not—but still. Somebody had to stand up for him, and it looked like it was going to be me.

  Jack didn’t say much until after we’d checked out (he used cash, not gold—I admit, I looked), loaded our groceries in the truck, and headed for home.

  “So what’s this thing about the sheriff and a gun?”

  “You heard that?”

  “I have good hearing, and I was just in the next aisle.”

  I told him about Jeremiah and the Colt, and he started nodding.

  “Actually, I remember him telling me about that gun, now that you mention it. He never would have sold it to Sheriff Lawless. Jeremiah thought the man was an idiot.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense at all,” I said, trying to think it through. “But I don’t know what it could have to do with Chantal or even with Jeremiah’s death. This happened months earlier, so clearly the sheriff didn’t kill your uncle over the gun. Jeremiah must have sold it to him, willingly or not.”

  “Could he have had some kind of leverage?”

  “What kind of leverage? Jeremiah wasn’t a criminal. He never even got speeding tickets, let alone something really bad, like smuggling priceless artifacts or drugs or anything like that.”

  Jack glanced at me and grinned. “So Fluffy isn’t secretly a drug mule?”

  I burst out laughing. “That’s just a sad, sad thought.”

  “I wonder how Otis did at the track.”

  “He lost, of course, or he would have been in to get Fluffy. And that’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to, when he sees the duct tape.”

  Jack pulled into my driveway. “He’s attached to that gator, is he?”

  “It’s a strange but lovely friendship between a man and his dead alligator,” I told him.

  “I’d say only in Dead End, but I’ve seen weirder,” he said.

  I didn’t even want to know.

  “You know, we’ve been proceeding on the idea that they’re connected—Chantal and Jeremiah—but what if there are two killers? Chantal’s death might still be a crime of passion that has to do with Hank or Gator,” I said, warming to the idea. “Maybe Chantal’s killer knew about Jeremiah. Everybody in Dead End did, after all. And so he dropped Chantal at the pawnshop to confuse the police, since they never solved your uncle’s murder.”

  “That’s actually not a bad idea,” Jack said slowly, parking and turning off the ignition. “We’ve seen nothing that ties the two together, after all.”

  “Just a lot of people who are connected in weird ways,” I said, shoving my hair back from my face. “I should have tied this back.”

  Jack reached over and pushed a strand back behind my ear, and I froze in place, startled. I was so used to avoiding any kind of human contact, except from the very few people I knew were “safe,” that it was weird, and scary, and a little bit thrilling for Jack to touch me.

  “You have beautiful hair. You should leave it down more often,” he said softly.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I settled for thank you, and he got a weird look on his face and jumped out of the truck. I sighed before unfastening my own seat belt. For a tiger, Jack had suddenly looked a lot like a deer in headlights.

  We carried my groceries into the house, and then he headed to Jeremiah’s place—I had to start thinking of it as Jack’s place—to unload the mountain of meat. (I guess tigers need a lot of protein.) While unloading my bags, I discovered that someone had slipped a business card for the domestic abuse hotline in one of them. I didn’t know whether to be touched at the concern or annoyed at the presumption, so I decided to go with touched. It was never a bad thing when people cared about other people. It could just get tiring when it was all aimed at me.

  I then decided that Lou had the right idea; it was an excellent time for a nap.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sound of Aunt Ruby singing in the kitchen woke me up. It was dark in the room and outside my window, and I was momentarily disoriented. Then I remembered. Saturday night. I had no plans. No date.

  No life.

  I sighed.

  “I heard that,” Uncle Mike said from the hallway. “Come show me the sink that’s clogged.”

  Lou abandoned me and went running out to greet Uncle Mike, her one true love. He pretended not to like cats, and she gleefully and shamelessly rubbed all over him for belly rubs. It was a strange relationship, but it worked for both of them. Kind of like Otis and Fluffy.

  I brushed nap breath out of my teeth, shook out my hair, and went to hug my family, who had keys to my house and used them whenever they thought I hadn’t visited them enough. I could definitely use a hug or six, though, so it was good timing.

  I walked into the kitchen, and Aunt Ruby looked up from the counter, smiling, and then shrieked and dropped her spatula, splattering batter everywhere. Uncle Mike came running.

  “I’m going to have to start warning people about my face if I don’t want to keep cleaning up messes,” I said, resigned.

  Like I had with Molly at lunch, I cleaned and explained at the same time, toning the story down so it didn’t sound so bad. I didn’t want Aunt Ruby to make herself sick worrying about me. I managed to get her calmed down enough to get back to making her famous pumpkin bread, but Uncle Mike wasn’t placated even the slightest bit. When Aunt Ruby was occupied, he jerked his head toward the front room, and I followed him out there, feeling like I was ten years old again and about to get chastised for sneaking into the cookie jar at midnight.

  “What the hell is going on? And don’t give me any crap about a random mugger, like you told Ruby, or I’ll drag you to our place and lock you in your old bedroom until I think you’re safe,” he said, and he looked furious enough to do it.

  “Well, the best we can figure out is that—”

  He yanked me into his arms for a hug. “We can’t lose you,” he said gruffly.

  “You’re not going to lose me. I’m being careful, and Jack is spending most of his time with me. Nobody in Dead End is going to go up against a tiger,” I said, trying to reassure him.

  “I’m getting you the Remington, anyway. Even you can hit what you aim at with that.”

  “Look—”

  A knock sounded at the door, and I jumped. Okay, I was a little bit nervous. I was brave, but not stupid.

  Uncle Mike strode to the door and looked out the glass window in the top before throwing it open. “I think you have some explaining to do, young man.”

  Jack, the rebel leader, didn’t even blink at the “young man” bit. “Yes, sir. But first, can I put these steaks in the kitchen?”

  Uncle Mike moved aside to let him in, and I saw that Jack was carrying a bulging grocery bag.

  “I thought we’d grill steaks. Glad I brought enough for everyone,” he said, like it was perfectly normal to invite himself over for dinner.

  “You know, I might have had plans tonight,” I told both of the overbearing men in my living room. “I had a date, after all.”

  Uncle Mike shrugged. “I know. That’s why we’re here. Ruby wanted to get some alone time with this Owen fellow, I think.”

  Jack’s smile sharpened into something predatory. “Ah, the sainted Owen. I’m sure we have enough steak for him too.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I canceled the date. I didn’t want to have to explain my face again. And Jack, you are never meeting Owen.”

  Jack headed down the hall to the kitchen, as comfortable as if he lived here. The thought gave me a strange tingle.

  “Owen would like me. I’m a nice guy,” he called back over his should
er.

  Aunt Ruby was delighted to see him, of course, and my traitorous cat jumped off the couch and ran down the hall after him.

  “I am rapidly losing control of my life,” I muttered, collapsing on the couch and closing my eyes.

  “Tell me, before Ruby comes out here,” Uncle Mike demanded in a quiet voice, sitting next to me.

  So I did. Most of it, in broad brushstrokes. What I knew, what I speculated.

  “This is something you should leave to the police, Tess. You’re already in danger, and that son of a bitch wasn’t messing around.” He nodded at my bruised face.

  “I just can’t. Not this time. I left Jeremiah’s murder to the police, and all that Sheriff Lawless came up with was unknown drifter. I feel like we need to get justice. Maybe some closure.”

  “Closure is a myth made up by people with too much time on their hands,” said my uncle the engineer, aka Mr. Feelings. “Figuring out who did it won’t help you miss Jeremiah less.”

  “I know. I know. But I still feel like I need to do it. And Jack—Jack won’t let it go, even if I could. I have to help him, Uncle Mike.” I took his hands in mine. “I love you, and I promise to be careful, but we need to solve this. Before the killer does it to someone else. I don’t want to find another body at the pawnshop back door.”

  His face was so very grim. “I don’t want to find your body there. It would kill Ruby.”

  We heard Jack and Aunt Ruby coming down the hall, and we both put happier expressions on our faces.

  “Tess, isn’t this wonderful? Jack brought steaks, and I brought my famous broccoli casserole, and we’ll all have dinner together.” Her gaze flitted over my black eye, but she determinedly kept the bright smile on her face. “And then we’ll talk about that Alaskan cruise that we’ve been planning to take as a family vacation.”

  “We have?” Uncle Mike and I said, simultaneously.

  “We have,” she said, in her patented Don’t Argue with Me voice. “Now, you boys go outside and grill those steaks, and Tess and I will have some girl talk.”

  Oh boy. I was in for it.

  “Aunt Ruby, maybe I should go help the guys outside. With the steaks. My grill can be tricky, and—”

  The doorbell rang and saved me from further babbling. I ran for the door, hoping for Molly, Dave, or maybe a long-winded encyclopedia salesman, but Jack beat me to it. He opened the door and then just stood there, blocking my view of my newest unexpected guest. Four in one night had to be some kind of record.

  “Who the hell are you?

  “I’m Owen Snodgrass. Who the hell are you?”

  *

  An hour later, we were all gathered around my table, sharing what might have been the most awkward dinner of my life, and that included the time Aunt Ruby tried to bully the boy who cut our lawn into taking me to the prom.

  “Snodgrass,” Jack said, with an evil gleam in his eye. He was toying with poor Owen like Lou did with her stuffed mouse. “Is that Swedish?”

  Owen’s face lit up. He had a good face, especially when he was smiling. He was dark-haired, blue-eyed, and so open and friendly he looked just like the boy next door. Well, if the boy next door had been anywhere except Dead End.

  “Scottish, actually. It’s an interesting story.”

  “I doubt it,” Uncle Mike muttered, and Aunt Ruby elbowed him.

  Owen looked puzzled, and I patted his arm for encouragement, and out of guilt for canceling our date by text. He’d been worried and stopped by to be sure I was okay. My reassurances didn’t hold much weight, though, once he got a look at my shiner. We went with “tripped and fell against my car” and even Aunt Ruby backed me up, so my usual inability to lie didn’t matter as much.

  Jack had invited him to dinner, because, of course. Why wouldn’t my uninvited tiger ask my uninvited dentist to eat with my uninvited family? (I’d tried to slip out the back door, but Aunt Ruby had caught me.)

  “Actually, I’d rather hear about how you went from being Tess’s dentist to her boyfriend,” Jack drawled.

  Owen actually blushed. He really was a very nice man.

  Too nice for me, I was starting to think.

  “He stopped by the pawnshop and asked me out, he was never my actual dentist, does anybody want pumpkin bread?” I shoved my chair back from the table and glared at Jack.

  Owen looked from me to Jack, clearly puzzled, but he was always up for carrying the conversational ball. “Well, that’s a funny story—”

  Uncle Mike groaned. Actually groaned, out loud.

  “Uncle Mike,” I said pointedly. “I could use your help carrying these dishes to the sink while everyone goes out to the living room. We’ll have dessert there.”

  Jack and Owen both stood up to help.

  “Oh, I think you’ve got it covered,” Uncle Mike said, giving me his innocent face.

  Aunt Ruby elbowed him again, and then all but dragged him out of the room.

  Jack and Owen started carrying dishes to the sink, but as soon as Owen put his down, I thrust the cooled pan of pumpkin bread at him. “Will you please carry this out? I’ll get the plates.”

  He smiled and leaned over to kiss me, but I managed to duck without being too obvious about it. With only a couple of worried glances back at me, he headed out to the living room.

  “You,” I hissed at Jack as soon as Owen was gone. “Cut it out.”

  He didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t know what I was talking about, which was lucky for him, because I was armed with a cake knife and I knew how to use it.

  “Snodgrass? You can’t be serious. You want to be Tess Snodgrass, and have little baby Snodgrasses?” He grinned at me, mischief glowing in his green, green eyes.

  “My personal life is none of your business. Now get out there and be polite.” I brandished my knife at him. He laughed at me, but he went.

  I followed behind slowly, with plates and dessert forks. I didn’t want to offer anyone coffee, because I wanted them all to get the heck out of my house, but Aunt Ruby would be horrified at my rudeness if I didn’t. I had to at least give it lip service.

  “Coffee?” I used my best “say no, say no, say no” telepathy, so naturally they all said yes. I gave serious thought to the escape-out-the-back-door option again, but this telepathy Aunt Ruby apparently caught, because she narrowed her eyes at me.

  Fine.

  I made coffee and brought out a tray with four mugs. None for me. Maybe I’d get lucky and fall asleep, and they’d all leave.

  “…and it was an actual Imperial Columbia made by Ritter,” Owen was saying, and I mentally echoed Uncle Mike’s groan. “Ritter dental chairs were the first to use hydraulic lifts to raise and lower the patient.”

  Jack was staring at Owen like he was a particularly fascinating species of insect.

  “Owen collects antique dental equipment,” I explained. “He heard we had the chair, and some instruments from the 1800s, and he came into the shop to have a look.”

  Owen beamed. “Yes, and it was perfect. I have it out in my waiting room. It’s quite a conversation piece.”

  “Because that’s what we want, when our mouths are filled with dental instruments. Conversation,” Uncle Mike grouched. “Maybe—”

  “What a clever idea,” Aunt Ruby said brightly, cutting pumpkin bread for everyone.

  Jack took a huge bite of dessert. “This is delicious, ma’am.”

  Aunt Ruby tasted hers, but then shook her head. “No, it’s a little bit dry. Mike, go get the whipped cream I brought.”

  Uncle Mike, his fork on the way to his mouth, looked pained, but put his plate down. “Okay, honey. You baked it, the least I can do is get the whipped cream.”

  They shared a smile, and a twinge of envy shot through me. Would anybody ever share a smile like that with me? I looked at Owen and suddenly couldn’t see even the chance of it in our future. Sighing, I put my plate down, suddenly not hungry anymore.

  “It is delicious, Mrs. Callahan,” Owen said. “So what do
you do, Jack?”

  “We’re sort of both in the tooth business, Dr. Snodgrass.”

  “You’re a dentist?”

  “Not exactly. You fix people’s teeth, and I knock them out.” Jack bared his own very white teeth at Owen, who flinched, and I decided I’d had quite enough of all of them.

  I jumped up. “All right. Everybody out. I’m exhausted, and my face hurts, and I’ll clean up the dishes in the morning.”

  Aunt Ruby gasped. “Tess, I didn’t raise you to be rude to guests.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I said, not pointing out that they were all uninvited, because yay me, restraint. “But I’ve never had a black eye before, either, and I have a massive headache, which I think is affecting my mood. Yeah, that’s it. So please, everyone. I’ll call you all tomorrow, except tomorrow is Sunday, so maybe I’ll rest all day and call you Monday.”

  Aunt Ruby stood up. “I think you should probably miss church, considering,” she said, saving me the trouble of telling her I planned to do just that. I figured God would forgive me for avoiding the collective well-meaning concern of the Southern United Methodist Women’s group until my face healed.

  Jack thanked us for dinner, shook Uncle Mike and Owen’s hands, flashed a wicked smile at me, and left. If I’d known it would be that effective, I’d have started being rude earlier in life.

  Aunt Ruby and Uncle Mike kissed me and followed Jack out the door, but Owen lingered after.

  “Tess, I know you have a headache, but I think we need to talk.”

  I blew out a breath. Clearly, I’d been wrong, and God was punishing me for the church thing. I expected the bolt of lightning any minute.

  Chapter Seventeen

  We sat out on the porch swing, even though it was only about fifty degrees outside; Owen in his jacket and me wrapped up in my afghan.

  “I think I’m not who you’re looking for, Tess,” he said, and there was so much kindness in his voice that I wanted to cry. But I didn’t, because he was right.

  “I’m not the right person for you either, Owen,” I said, smiling a little. “But I’m glad we met, and I hope we can be friends.”