Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 02 - Inn the Doghouse

by Heather Horrocks

  Vonda unlocked the door and DeWayne came into the cell. Big, muscled, and handsome, he was a welcome sight—if he’d come to rescue us. But what if Paul sent him because he could tell us apart?

  “DeWayne,” I said, “did you come to rescue us?”

  He nodded at me, but his eyes zeroed in on Liz. He looked worried, and, when he spoke, he sounded worried, too. “Are you all right?”

  Okay, she did look pale, but what was I? Chopped liver?

  Liz nodded. “I’m fine. Thanks for coming.”

  He took one of her hands. “Liz, I would do anything for you. You know that.”

  “Oh, DeWayne, I—”

  He wrapped her in his arms and held her close, his love for her ever visible. “I will never let anything bad happen to you. You know that.”

  Annie looked at me. “Wow. That never happened to me in here.”

  Liz clung to him. When they pulled back, she opened her mouth to speak, but he held a finger to her lips. “Let me finish. While I have a captive audience.”

  Then DeWayne Smith, Silver City police officer, stunned us both by taking one of her hands and going down on one knee. “Liz, I love you. I always have. I want to take care of you. I want you and me to be us again. I want to marry you.” He laughed shakily. “I didn’t intend to do this here, in a jail cell, but I can’t bear to see you in trouble for even one minute more.”

  Annie put her hands to her chest. “That is so sweet.”

  I sank down beside Annie. “Sweet, but not very romantic.”

  “I think it’s very romantic.”

  He stood up and held her hand, waiting. “I’ll ask again in a restaurant or somewhere more romantic, but please tell me I at least have a chance with you, Liz.”

  “DeWayne,” Liz’s lips quivered and she paused, obviously shaken. “I’m not sure how to word this. I’m not ready for this. I really need you as a friend right now while I work through things.”

  He looked as if she just slapped him.

  “I’m so sorry.” She reached out to touch his arm, but he shrugged off her hand.

  I thought I saw the glitter of tears in his eyes, and I wanted to smack my sister upside the head.

  Even the shabbily dressed woman beside me said, “She could have handled that better.”

  Poor guy. In front of the old lady and me, too. And Vonda, who was staring open-mouthed through the bars.

  He took a step back, the hurt showing in his eyes. “I obviously misread the signs. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  He walked through the door as Vonda opened it for him, and left us.

  Behind.

  Still locked in.

  I stood to follow him, but by the time I reached the door, Vonda was closing it on us.

  “But,” I began.

  “Sorry, Vicki.” She shrugged.

  I whirled on Liz. “Couldn’t you have at least waited until he bailed us out of jail before you broke his heart?”

  “Legally, he wouldn’t be posting bail, he—”

  I cut her off. “Skip the legal crap. He came to bail us out, and you let him walk out of here without us. Did you see his face when you ripped out his heart?”

  Annie nodded her head and hiccupped. “You’re a mean attorney, aren’t you?” She looked at me and confided, “That’s okay. I don’t really need one. The police chief brings me in here when it gets too cold so I can warm up and eat a few meals.”

  Who knew my brother could be such a nice guy?

  Bad news? My brother was nicer to a homeless person than he was to his own sisters.

  Liz sank down onto the concrete bench and started crying. “Gene and I had our problems, and I’ve been divorcing him for a little over a month. I’m much too torn up now to get involved with anyone. It wouldn’t be fair to either DeWayne or me. I’ve always cared for DeWayne, either since we dated in high school, and I still have feelings for him. I just need some time to figure out my feelings. I buried my husband only three days ago.”

  “So why didn’t you tell DeWayne that? —Instead of that just a friend crap? And why couldn’t you have told him after he busted us out?” I repeated, incredulous. I threw my hands in the air. “Now what are we going to do?”

  Annie leaned closer to me until I caught the scent of alcohol wafting from her clothes. “Gin helps pass the time.”

  Shocked, I stared at the woman. “I don’t drink.”

  She rummaged in her big purse and finally came up triumphantly with what I expected to be a flask of gin.

  It was a deck of cards. She smiled. “Twos are wild.”

  ~ ~ ~

  I have never endured such misery for hours. Ever. But maybe that was because I never passed the time of day—any time, any day—in jail before.

  Well, okay, maybe giving birth or having my husband die were worse, but I couldn’t think of anything else that could top it.

  I glanced at the toilet in the corner and wished I didn’t need to use it—or at least one of its more civilized and private cousins. It would have to be a cold day in hell before I pulled my pants down in public to use this particularly disgusting brushed metal thing. I would hold it all night if I had to, being determined not to touch, sit, squat, or even approach it in public. In fact, I would wet my pants before I used it—and then I would kill Paul for leaving me in here.

  Speaking of my horrid brother, when did he plan to let us out? I was ready to tell him I was really Vicki if he would just come back. The truth really would set me free.

  I glanced over at Liz and got angry all over again. “See if I ever save you again.”

  Sitting on the opposite bench, she bristled. “Save me? We’re in jail. Thanks to you, Ms. Parent Trap.”

  “Well, we would have been busted out hours ago but, no thanks to you, Ms. Break A Good Man’s Heart.”

  The clang of metal sounded and the new officer, Miguel Hernandez, a young, single guy fresh out of the Salt Lake City Police Academy, opened the door.

  Liz stood up and spouted off some legal speak, demanding her phone call and threatening all kinds of dire consequences, and, seeing him smile, she finally instructed him to take his head out of his posterior.

  He smiled at her. “It’s been up there so long, I’m not sure I can do that anymore, ma’am.”

  He called my sister ma’am? He was lucky to remain alive.

  Liz huffed and sat back down. “I’m going to sue.”

  I looked over at Miguel hopefully. “Can we go now?”

  “Sorry, ma’am.” He shook his head and pointed to the old lady. “Okay, Annie. Time for your shower.”

  Did he just call me ma’am, too? What was I supposed to call him? Young whippersnapper?

  Annie stood, dusting off her shabby clothes, as she looked pointedly at Liz. “Just one tip, Ms. Mean Attorney. If anyone else comes here and proposes, say yes. You’re an attorney so I know you’ve already learned how to lie.”

  I watched the older woman leave the cell.

  “We could use a potty break,” I said.

  Miguel said, “You’ll have to wait until I bring Annie back.”

  That was the most excitement we had for the next hour or so. I glanced at the toilet again and crossed my legs tighter.

  We were stuck in the cell about four hours before Paul finally came in.

  I clutched the bars. “I confess. I’m Vicki. Please let us out.”

  He actually looked contrite. “I thought you were already released. I’ve been in Park City for the last few hours. I’m sorry. DeWayne was supposed to come in, identify Liz, bring her up to my office for questioning, and let you go, Vicki.”

  “And I really do need to go,” I said. “Right now.”

  He opened the door and I walked with my legs tightly clenched. He studied me. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I told you. I. Really. Need. To. Go.”

  Liz looked at him icily. “I’m still going to sue.”

  “Give me a break, Liz. I put you in here for what I thought
was an hour because you refused to tell me who was who.”

  She sniffed. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Here’s what I’m thinking,” I said. “If the local police chief doesn’t let me use the bathroom right now and I end up wetting my pants, then I’m going to sue. My Bladder vs. the Silver City Police Department. It won’t be pretty.”

  He motioned me toward the door. “Go. You know where it is.”

  Luckily for Paul and the Silver City Police Department, I made it. Barely. I was still simmering when I met them in the hallway.

  We followed him out to his squad car. Climbed in. Waited for a long moment, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. “What happens now?”

  Paul peeled rubber out of the station parking lot and onto Mountain Boulevard, slamming me back against the seat. That meant he was ticked off. “Before I answer that, just let me say that you both need a good spanking. Lying to an officer is no joke, even if he is your brother. Liz, you ought to know better, at least. You’re supposed to be such a hotshot attorney.”

  “A mean one, too,” I said.

  “A stupid one,” Paul said, and paused. “I’m sorry you were left in there so long. I still need to talk to you, Liz, but I’ll do it back at the Inn if Vicki can find an empty room for us.”

  I said, “I can do that.”

  Paul drove in silence for a moment.

  I stared out the car window at the snow-topped mountain, the trees, whose leaves had long ago flown, and the valley below. Each season on the mountain was more beautiful than the last. That’s why I loved living here.

  Liz drew in a deep breath and I turned to look at her.

  Paul murmured, almost to himself. “I wonder why DeWayne didn’t let you out.”

  “Oh, Officer Smith came in, all right,” I told him. “And he declared his undying love to poor, little damsel-in-distress Liz. He proposed to her, down on bended knee, in a jail cell.”

  “What?” Paul shot a quick look in the rearview mirror and clenched the wheel tightly. “He did what?”

  “And she told him she just wanted to be his friend.”

  “That’s harsh,” he said.

  Liz sighed. “Less talking and more driving, please.”

  I touched her hand until she looked over at me. I said, “After you answer Paul’s questions, let’s watch a movie. A chick flick that Zach can complain about.”

  Paul said, “Watch a prison movie and remember that you don’t want to be naughty again. City jail time is nothing. You do not want to end up in the big house.”

  We ignored him. Liz said, “I feel really bad about DeWayne. I want to go home, clean up, answer Paul’s questions, and then find DeWayne and tell him what I really meant.”

  Paul said, “What did you really mean?”

  “Paul, if you want me to answer your questions when we get to the Inn, just shut up. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  He did, and we rode in silence the rest of the way. I pondered upon hearing my sister—for perhaps the first time ever—wanted to seek DeWayne out and make things better. I knew Liz needed time to work out her very conflicted feelings about her cheating husband, but this gave me renewed hope that there really might be a chance DeWayne would finally end up as my brother-in-law someday.

  As we stopped in front of my own, much nicer big house, Paul sighed. “After I talk with Liz, I’ll pick up Zach from his friend’s house and take him to my house so you girls can look for DeWayne.”

  “Thanks, Paul,” I said. “For such an oppressive cop, you can be pretty nice.”

  ~ ~ ~

  My sister and I felt obligated to shower off any germs acquired from the jail’s concrete benches. After making ourselves presentable, she talked to Paul, answering all his questions. He told her the deputies would hold off for a few days before they interrogated her. Afterward, she surprised me by admitting she was too upset to drive and asked me to do the honors. Paul had already picked up my son from Germy’s house and taken him back to his house for the night.

  As I drove down Porter Mountain toward Silver City, Liz folded her arms and stared out the window over the valley. Finally, she said, “I’m not ready to pursue a relationship yet, but I’ve got to tell DeWayne that I do care for him and maybe there can be a relationship down the road a little. I don’t know what came over me. It was just all so sudden, and there he was, down on one knee, and what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t say yes. Not like that.”

  “We’ll find him,” I reassured her, crossing Main Street and heading for DeWayne’s house.

  “I just need more time to work through my feelings. I just buried Gene. How would it even look to accept a proposal of marriage from another man just days later? DeWayne should have waited.”

  “I know.” It seemed having been relegated to the role of supporter, I didn’t dare say what I really thought—that it was about time for Liz to apologize to DeWayne, and not just for what she said in jail. She had always flirted and joked with him, even after she was married to Gene. She kept him in emotional limbo. Even after she chose someone else.

  Approaching DeWayne’s house, I pulled to the curb. His oversized pickup wasn’t on the street, but he usually parked his four-wheeled baby in the garage. Being an upstanding member of the community, he had purchased his own home—three-thousand square feet of pretty and bare, just waiting for a woman’s touch to bring it to life and prepare it for a family. Since he chose the house that Liz once said she thought was pretty, and painted it in her favorite shades of pale cream paint, I knew whom he hoped that woman would be.

  “Should I call?” Liz asked hesitantly.

  I looked her in the eye. “Has he answered any of your calls so far?”

  “No.” She shrank back into the seat.

  “Then, no, you shouldn’t call him again. You should walk up to the door and ring the bell. Have courage. Be brave. Just do it.”

  The sun had already slipped halfway down behind the mountain as we climbed out. Of course, Liz wanted me to go up with her. This whole murder made her so much more emotional than usual. I, of all people, knew how hard it was to regain your emotional footing after your spouse was killed, but I hoped Liz could do it in record time. For all our sakes. And her job.

  We traipsed up the walk to the door where Liz sucked in a few ragged breaths before darting her finger out and ringing the bell.

  As the sound faded, we waited. For a long time.

  She rang again. Next, she knocked loudly. And still, there was no answer.

  I shook my head. “I guess it’s time to try calling him again, Liz.”

  Back in the Jeep, she did. She held the phone up to her ear. Redialed. Three times. Then dropped her phone into her lap. “No answer. And I’m not going to leave a message for this.”

  “You could just say you’re sorry and would like to talk to him in person.”

  She shook her head. “Not over the phone.”

  “Oh, come on. At least one little sorry.”

  “Not over the phone,” she repeated. “He deserves a face-to-face apology.”

  “Okay.” I started the Jeep and pulled away from his house. “Where to next?”

  “Drive by the station,” she instructed.

  I did. The small parking lot was only partially filled, but DeWayne’s truck wasn’t there.

  I glanced over at her. “Where else could he be?”

  “Call his mother.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. You call her.”

  “I can’t. Please, Vicki.”

  So I did. What could I say? I pulled over along the curb on Main Street because I’m a pushover.

  Ellen Smith reported that she hadn’t heard from him today, but she promised to let me know if he called or dropped by. I turned back to Liz and reported. “Okay. Now what?”

  “Let’s call Paul. He should know where his own deputy is.” Liz turned her teary, Disney-princess eyes on me again. “Now will you call Paul for me?”

  “Do you always get
your way? I don’t remember you being quite so spoiled. And Paul didn’t know earlier.”

  Paul answered with, “At least your cell phone doesn’t claim to be Liz’s, Vicki.” He still sounded torqued.

  “It was childish of me and I’m sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me,” I groveled.

  He made grumbling noises. Liz snorted.

  “Paul, do you know where DeWayne is? We need to talk to him.”

  “He called me a few minutes ago and asked for a few days off.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. “Why?”

  “I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell. He said it was important. I said okay.”

  “Is that how men communicate? A few grunts and no questions?”

  “Yup.”

  Feeling let down, I said, “Would you call him and tell him Liz needs to apologize?”

  “Liz is a big girl. She can call DeWayne all by herself.”

  “He’s not answering her calls,” I admitted.

  “But he is communicating with her.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “You now know that he doesn’t want to talk to her right now. When he does, he’ll answer or he’ll call her. He’s in his man cave, licking his wounds from the rejection. Back off, ladies.”

  “All right. Thanks, Paul.”

  “No problem, jailbird number one.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Stop giving me crap unless you want me to sue you for wrongful imprisonment or whatever attorneys call it.”

  “Legal crap,” my attorney sister said. “That’s what we call it.”

  “You girls always were little tattletales.”

  “When you get the next grunt or update from DeWayne, would you pass it on?”

  Paul was silent for a second too long.

  “Please? It’s important.”

  I heard a deep sigh over the phone, and, “Maybe,” was the best I got before he said he had to go.

  Pocketing my phone, I turned to Liz and passed on Paul’s side of the conversation.

  Liz looked like she was going to cry again. “I really need to talk to him. I feel terrible for making him so upset. I don’t want him doing anything stupid.”