Pudding Up With Murder

by Julia Buckley

“Give me the phone,” Wade said.

  That made me angry. “No! Stop being weird, Wade.”

  “Give it to me! I want to know what you just did.”

  “Cut it out! I need you to leave my house.”

  “Lilah, give it to me,” he said, grabbing my wrist and prying the phone from my hand.

  “Ouch!” I screamed.

  He took the phone and turned away from me. I scoured the room, wishing I were close enough to a frying pan or something heavy. I began to edge away from him, but then he swung back. “How did you know?”

  “What?”

  He held up the message that I sent to Parker. “How did you know?”

  I pointed to his finger. “Your father had it, too. It’s hereditary.”

  He looked at his weird purple finger and sniffed. “My only damn inheritance.”

  “Oh, Wade,” I said. I don’t know if I felt fear or pity or revulsion or some odd mixture of them. Then, because it popped into my head, I said, “You stabbed him! You’re the one who stabbed him, fifteen years ago!”

  Wade’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know that?”

  “I didn’t—I just thought it. But now I do.”

  He shook his head. “I was ten. I was angry. He had rejected my mother and me, or that’s the way I saw it. They got me therapy after that. But he never forgave me, even though I was just a child. Wouldn’t have anything more to do with me, even though he knew I was his son.”

  I needed to keep him talking. Jay would be on his way. “He should have understood,” I said, going for a soothing tone.

  “Right. That’s what Cash and Amber tried to tell him. Amber was a fellow bastard, so we bonded pretty quickly when we met. She understood what I was going through, and she and Cash sat down with Cantwell. Tried to persuade him to give me another chance. After that he wouldn’t talk to Amber, either. Of course he wouldn’t reject Cash. Cash is everyone’s favorite—even mine.”

  “So you killed him? Your father?”

  Suddenly I saw the ten-year-old boy Glenning had been, along with the anger he had felt then; now, though, it was the mighty, vengeful fury of a man. “Yeah, I killed him. He didn’t even know who I was—isn’t that hilarious? He let me walk around at his party because he thought I was just the hired help. So I walked in that room and said I needed to take his picture—that his kids wanted it. I offered him a drink. He wasn’t supposed to drink, but I knew he had once liked alcohol, so I figured, why not?

  “He took it from me.” Glenning’s mouth twisted into a weird smile. “You know what he said? He said, ‘Just this once.’ I almost laughed in his face. But instead I took his picture. The last picture of him alive.”

  “Oh my God.” I couldn’t hide my repulsion, and that was a mistake. Wade Glenning was tired of feeling rejected. “And you shot up the art gallery! Why?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Because Cash was trying to get me what I deserved, and his sister was going to talk him out of it. I guess I was mad. I wasn’t shooting to kill.”

  “You came awfully close.”

  His face changed then, and I knew that he was going to kill me. Mick was stirring nearby, and I realized that he sensed something was amiss. “If you try anything, my dog will attack you,” I said. I didn’t believe this of my gentle Mick.

  Wade laughed. “That dog wouldn’t harm the devil.”

  “He would if the devil was threatening me,” I said. I grabbed the vase with Parker’s flowers in it and bashed it against Wade’s temple. The vase, a heavy cut-glass affair, did not break, nor did Glenning collapse. He merely touched his temple and swore.

  “That was supposed to knock you out,” I babbled. In retrospect I think I was in shock.

  “Yeah, in a cartoon,” he said, and then he lunged at me. I darted to the side and he fell against my counter. I used his miscalculation to sprint out of the room, and I did hear some growling and barking from Mick, who seemed to be pulling at Glenning’s pant leg. I tore down my hallway and to the front door, almost screaming with fear, and my clammy hands struggled with the doorknob.

  Glenning was chasing me now, lumbering out of the kitchen with desperate strides. “Come back, Lilah!” he yelled.

  I wrenched the door open and dove out onto my walkway, where I began to run. “No!” I screamed.

  Glenning was pounding after me, saying, “Lilah, stop! I just want to talk to you!”

  I ventured a glance over my shoulder, then looked back and ran straight into Angelo Cardelini, who looked not at me, but at the man behind me, his handsome face furious and dangerous.

  Glenning barreled toward us, and Angelo’s fist flew out, catching Glenning full in the jaw and knocking him off balance. Glenning fell backward onto the walkway like a giant tree, and Mick ran out, growling, to stand on his chest. Angelo put a foot on Glenning’s stomach and said, “Lilah belongs to another man—my friend Jay Parker. I will not allow this to go on!”

  I stood trembling, realizing in that surreal moment that Angelo hadn’t been saving me from a murderer. He thought I was being chased by an angry lover.

  “Angelo, you idiot!” I said, and then I burst into tears, probably from delayed shock.

  A second later Jay Parker’s car pulled up the driveway, and he got out, his face white. He ran over, trying to gauge exactly what was happening.

  I was still blubbering, and Wade Glenning was struggling on the ground, trying to extricate himself from Mick’s paws and Angelo’s boot. His head was bleeding where I had hit him with the vase. As Parker drew near, Angelo gave him a thumbs-up. “I will not let anyone else try to take your woman, Jay! I have knocked him down for you.”

  Parker stared at him, then looked at me. I was wiping at my eyes and holding my breath in a furious attempt to stop crying. “Wade was chasing me,” I managed.

  In one of the weirdest and most memorable moments of my life, Parker lunged at Angelo and gave him a fierce hug. “Thank God you were here! Thank you, Angelo!”

  My former boyfriend, still stepping on Glenning with one foot, seemed to finally understand that I had been in danger. “Oh—Lilah, he is not your lover?”

  “No, Angelo. He was trying to kill me.”

  “I was not. I just wanted to talk,” Glenning protested. Mick put a giant paw on his face.

  Parker grew even paler. Now he came to me and folded me into his arms. “Once again I arrive too late.”

  “But you always come for me, Jay. That’s what matters. I know that if I call, you will always come running. Because you love me.”

  “I really do,” Parker said, kissing my eyebrow. “Should we stop your dog from mauling this guy to death?”

  “He’s not mauling. Just showing that he means business. Mick is more of a warrior than I knew.”

  Angelo was clearly making a great effort to restrain himself, so I turned to offer him some gratitude. “And so are you, Angelo. That was some punch.”

  Now he gave us a smug smile. “I trained in the boxing, back in Milan. I have not a chance to use it very often, so I am glad of this.” He pointed to Glenning, who glared at us from the ground.

  “Get the dog off of me,” he growled.

  “In due time,” Parker said, playing with my hair.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Parker was busy that day and the next, but I got a lot of information from the television news. Glenning had been Cantwell’s child by a woman named Patricia Glenning, with whom he’d had a brief affair between his first and second wives. She had become pregnant with Wade but did not tell Cantwell because their relationship had ended rather stormily.

  Ten years later Cantwell had divorced a third wife, and he briefly reconciled with Patricia, but young Wade didn’t know that the two of them were dating again when Cantwell visited his house. His mother, perhaps as a way of keeping away questions, had spun a ten-year narrative about Wade’
s neglectful father, and the little boy felt abandoned and angry. Unaware that his mother had never told Cantwell about his existence, he assumed that Cantwell had merely rejected him. Cantwell was considering buying a new house to start a life with Patricia and his growing brood of children, but on that fateful night that he came to meet his son, Wade stabbed him. The fallout from that incident made the relationship with Patricia fail once again, although Cantwell paid for a therapist for the child. Cantwell, though, had been traumatized, and he said he never wanted to see Wade again; he resented Patricia for not telling him about the child in the first place.

  The Channel Five broadcast put a picture of Patricia Glenning on the screen, and I realized that she was the woman I’d seen at Cantwell’s funeral—the one who sat alone. Poor Patricia—she had lost her lover twice, and now she would lose her only son.

  The news then cut to a press conference in which Maria Grimaldi and Jay Parker were taking questions. They were doing it outside for some reason, on the sunny lawn in front of the police station.

  Grimaldi was at the podium; a reporter asked if it was not true that she had been present on the day that Cantwell died. Grimaldi looked surprised. “I was picking up a family member from Mr. Cantwell’s house when he collapsed. A family member attempted to revive the victim. It was at that point that I realized the victim’s ailment seemed suspicious.“

  “Has it been determined that Mr. Cantwell was in fact poisoned to death by Wade Glenning?”

  Maria’s face closed off. “I am not prepared to comment on that. I’ll pass the microphone now to my partner in this investigation, Detective Jacob Parker.”

  Parker moved to the podium with his serious cop face on. He looked incredibly handsome, and his dark hair blew slightly in the wind. “We are still in the process of investigation; however, we did arrest Wade Glenning today, and we do not have any other persons of interest in this case.”

  “Is it true that Glenning was Cantwell’s illegitimate son?” asked one persistent reporter.

  Parker homed in on the man with his amazing eyes. “We have determined that Marcus Cantwell and Patricia Glenning had an affair. The dates are detailed in your packet. Wade Glenning was a product of that affair, but Mr. Cantwell was not made aware of his son’s existence until ten years later.”

  A young woman who seemed far too interested in Parker edged closer to the podium. “How did the police happen to find out the connection between Glenning and Cantwell?”

  Parker’s eyes crinkled slightly, but his face remained serious. “We received a tip from a very observant citizen. She happened to notice a hereditary trait that Cantwell and Glenning shared. She promptly reported this to the police.”

  “Can we know this citizen’s name?” persisted the young woman.

  Parker’s brow furrowed. “That is not necessary to your story, and this citizen has indicated that she wishes to remain anonymous.”

  I turned to Mick. “That’s my boyfriend up there. He looks amazingly handsome.”

  Mick nodded.

  I pressed a button on my cable box to record the rest of the conference. I turned off the television and looked at Mick, who was waiting patiently. I had a casserole sitting on the counter, ready to be delivered, and Mick was smart enough to know that a car ride was imminent.

  I put a leash on Mick and grabbed my pan. “Okay, bud. Time to do our job.”

  • • •

  AFTER I DELIVERED a casserole to a very appreciative new client, I figured Mick had earned some park time. It was a beautiful spring day, filled with the contradictions of the season: the breeze was cold, but if I stood in the sun I was almost hot.

  We drove to Bailey Park, one of Mick’s favorite places. We could walk all over it with Mick on the leash, and there was a fenced-off dog run in which I could let him be free and meet canine friends. Mick’s tail was wagging before I even parked the car; he knew where we were going.

  We crossed the street and entered the tree-filled park; Mick dragged me toward the first interesting smell, which was at the base of a forsythia bush bright with yellow blooms. Not far away were two lilac bushes, and it wasn’t only Mick who was in scent paradise.

  I heard a familiar voice and looked down the main paved path, where park benches were placed every twenty feet or so. Two people sat on one of these benches, watching children play on a nearby swing set. I recognized Lola first, Grimaldi’s niece. She looked very pretty in a tan trench coat, blue jeans, and fashionable boots. Next to her was Cash Cantwell, who had a casual arm slung around her shoulder and was telling some jovial story into her ear.

  “Good for you, Cash,” I murmured.

  When Mick finished sniffing, we rapid-walked down the path until we were in front of the young lovers. “Hello, Cash. Hello, Lola.”

  Cash stood up. “Hey! What a surprise to see you.”

  Lest he think I was stalking him around town, I pointed at my dog. “Mick loves it here—we come here a lot.”

  Cash nodded. “Same for those guys.” He pointed to the swing set, where I spotted Peach and Carrie Britton.

  “No Tim Junior?” I said.

  “He was too cool to come this time.”

  Lola laughed. “He just wanted to have some alone time with his dad. He doesn’t get that very often.”

  I looked at Cash. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  Cash looked at his feet. “He was my brother, as you know. As everyone knows now.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the others, Cash?”

  “They wouldn’t have understood. At least that’s what I thought. Prue seemed to prove it, when I finally told her we had a sibling. She thought someone was out to scam me. I thought they would all feel that way. I wanted to do what was right for Wade. It wasn’t just that I felt sorry for him—I liked him, and he deserved everything we got. He was my dad’s son. But dad never liked him. He treated him like some animal that you have second thoughts about, and you send them back to the pound.”

  “Except he wouldn’t have done that to an animal,” Lola said sharply.

  “Have you talked to Wade?”

  “Yeah. I went to see him with Scott. Scott and Owen—and Prue and Emma, too—they’ve all been really cool about it. They’re angry at Wade, but they feel sorry for him. Scott said he’s going to help hook him up with a good lawyer—someone he trusts. We’re going to foot the bill.”

  “That’s nice of you. I’m glad.”

  “Yeah—Scott ended up being really cool about it. He said that Wade didn’t have all the advantages we had, growing up. Which is exactly how I felt. I know Wade did a terrible thing, but he did it out of pain, you know? Out of rejection. He’s not a terrible guy.”

  I had no comment about that one. I wondered what Glenning would have done if he had caught me when he chased me out of my cottage. Would he have killed me? Or had he just intended to try to reason with me, as he later claimed to the police?

  “Well, it was good to run into you. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

  Cash nodded. “You will. Those little monsters practically live at this park, and besides, they love the kids’ menu at Cardelini’s. You work with that guy, right? I’ve seen you on TV.”

  I sighed. “I guess I do work with him, yes.”

  Peach and Carrie ran over, yelling, “Mick!” They knelt to pet my amiable dog, and I said hello to them.

  Peach pointed a little finger at me. “Did you finish your Miss Moxie books?”

  “Yes. She even helped me solve a problem. She said, ‘When something looks too black-and-white, you can be sure it isn’t right.’ I realized that was true.”

  I looked back at Cash. “Because I thought Amber was your father’s love child. It all seemed to fit. But it was wrong, and Wade was right in front of my face all along.”

  Lola bristled slightly at Amber’s name, and Cash laughed. “Ambe
r and Lo are friends, but Lola thought I had something going on with her. I never did—we’re just friends. Poor Amber—everyone was assuming things about her that aren’t true.“

  “Parker found out it wasn’t true, but I didn’t ask him, and he didn’t tell me, and so the revelation of Wade was quite a surprise.”

  I looked at Peach and Carrie. “Hey, you two. I’m going to let Mick run around behind that dog fence for a while. While he plays, would you like to hear some things I’m planning for Miss Braidwell’s wedding?”

  Carrie looked on the verge of fainting, and Peach jumped up and down like a human pogo stick. “Yes, yes!” Peach cried, and Carrie nodded vigorously. I handed Carrie Mick’s leash and said, “Go ahead and open that fence, and I’ll be right behind you.” They scampered forward with my happy dog, who slowed his pace for them slightly.

  I smiled at Cash and Lola. “You two can go a discreet distance and make out for a while.”

  Cash gave me a thumbs-up. “We might just do that,” he said.

  • • •

  WHEN MICK AND I got home, he was clearly ready for a nap. I let him in, gave him some water, and laughed as he went straight to his bed by the stove. He was snoring moments later.

  The doorbell rang, and I ran to the front to see Britt smiling at me through the window. I opened the door and said, “Hey, neighbor.”

  “Hey, Lilah. Do you have a moment? I have something for you.”

  “Sure.” I stepped away from the door, and Britt grabbed something that she had leaned against my house. It was a large, flat parcel covered in brown paper.

  We went into my living room, and Britt leaned her parcel against a chair. The two of us sat down on the couch. “Lilah, Terry and I have been talking, and we know that it must have been uncomfortable, being put in the middle of our love life.”

  I shrugged.

  Britt tinkled out a laugh, carefree as it had once been. “Anyway, we’re both so grateful to you for counseling us and being our friend. We couldn’t have done it without you.” She glanced at the crazy, beautiful diamond-and-sapphire extravagance on her finger. “So we wanted to give you a gift.”