Dooley Is Dead

by Kate Merrill

  Diana choked on her coffee. Bearfoot had made it perfectly clear and she remembered his exact words: Lori was no more pregnant than I am. “There must be some mistake.”

  “No mistake. Trev and Lori were ecstatic, already designing the nursery, and they didn’t give a rat’s ass what people thought.”

  “Did they tell anyone?”

  “Well gee, Diana, who cares?” Ginny began folding the hoagies into plastic wrap. “I know he told his uncle Maynard, so I’m sure Maynard told his wife, Paula. What does it matter?”

  Diana slumped deeper into her chair. “You better sit down, too, Ginny, because I need to tell you a story about a bitter old man named Loveless. It’s all about the trust fund he set up for the nieces he adored…”

  As Diana told the tale, Ginny’s mouth sagged in disbelief. Diana paused only long enough to greet Lissa, who had settled on an emerald green shorts outfit that made her look like a feminine Peter Pan. Lissa explained how they were taking her new daddy to their secret island for a picnic, and then she and Ursie went down to the dock to wait on the boat.

  Once the child was out of earshot, Diana concluded, “So you see, with Lori pregnant, Paula had about ten million reasons to kill her.”

  “Holy shit.” Ginny’s fingers trembled as she shoved her black bangs off her forehead. “Only one problem with your theory, Diana. Lori wasn’t pregnant when she died. Tragically, she had a miscarriage last month. She and Trev were devastated. Don’t you get it? That’s why he was so stunned to hear about Lissa. He’d pretty much given up on ever having a child.”

  All right, that made sense and it jived with Bearfoot’s statement, but Diana was still troubled. “Did Trevor tell Maynard and Paula about Lori’s miscarriage?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered slowly. “Maybe not. Trev had a terrible time telling me about it. He was so torn up, it’s possible he kept it to himself.”

  So Diana figured they were back at square one. Another irony. What if Paula, or Maynard, had committed murder because they were ill informed? Diana’s headache returned with a vengeance. As she fished a small bottle of aspirin from her purse, she realized Ginny was revealing another astonishing clue.

  “What did you just say? That both Maynard and Paula had access to Trevor’s Jeep that morning?”

  Ginny explained again. “I’d love to pin it on that bitch, but Maynard’s been acting weird, too. He’s very protective of Trev and thinks I’m a bad influence, thinks I’m gonna hurt his nephew. Trev claims that lately Maynard’s been moody. One minute he’s angry at the world, next minute he’s drunk and crying in his beer. I don’t get it. Maynard and me used to be friends.”

  Diana didn’t get it either, and the effort was making her ill. For all she knew, the murder had been a simple robbery gone bad, as Liz had suggested. At the moment, she lacked the strength to speculate, so she swallowed two aspirins and climbed to her feet.

  “Hate to run, Ginny, but I must go to the office.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me you won’t be here to say hi to Trev?” But Ginny’s eyes betrayed her. She was not at all sorry Diana was leaving. Then she and Lissa could have Trevor all to themselves.

  “I hope to be home in time for supper, but tell Matthew not to wait, okay?’

  “What about Gracie?” Ginny pointed at the greyhound lying under the table. “What if she and Ursie get in a fight?”

  Well, Diana had been dragging Lissa to the office to help cut out paper dolls, so why not take Gracie? “C’mon, girl…” The dog tucked her tail and skittered out the door after Diana. She jumped into Queen Vic, and then Diana waved goodbye.

  “Okay, sweet one,” she cooed to the animal. “It’s just you and me.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Practicing apologies…

  Diana spotted Trevor’s Jeep as he turned off River Highway onto their road. She noticed his tense profile as he stared straight ahead. He was going to a picnic, but truth be told, these recent weeks hadn’t been a picnic for anyone. Moments later she passed Matthew’s store, saw his truck parked out back, but resisted the temptation to rush inside to kiss and make up.

  Instead she patted Gracie’s sleek head, which was already cradled on her lap. “Let’s let him stew awhile, what do you think, girl?”

  But Gracie had nothing to offer regarding the battle of the sexes, so Diana tuned to classical music and tried to sort out her emotions. It proved impossible. By the time she reached the junction of I77 and was poised to merge onto the expressway, heading south to Davidson, she had decided to call Matthew. She pulled off at a gas station, killed the engine, and took the cell phone from her purse.

  She paused to come up with the right words to apologize and gazed down at the highway, where a steady stream of high-speed traffic rolled by in four orderly lanes, moving half and half in opposite directions. Diana reflected on the hundreds of drivers, each with his of her own agenda---separate lives, joys, tragedies---all hell bent on getting somewhere at seventy miles per hour. She noticed a storm cloud gathering on the horizon and hoped it wouldn’t spoil Ginny’s picnic.

  When she was ready, her mind focused in spite of the buzzing whine of traffic, she held down button one and saw Matthew’s name and number pop into the lighted digital display, but still she hesitated. How does one apologize when one feels no remorse? In that moment of indecision, the phone rang, vibrated in her hand, and Gracie leaped up from her lap.

  What the hell? Diana stared at the incoming name and number on her screen. As she struggled to place the person, she suddenly realized who was trying to connect across the miles. She pushed the green “talk” button, stated her name, then listened as the caller began her tirade.

  “Hello, Mrs. Rittenhouse, can I call you Diana?” Paula Dula said. “I’ve been calling your office, but no one ever answers. All I get is the damn machine.”

  “I am so sorry.” Diana had met Paula briefly at Trevor’s arraignment. She recalled her hard green eyes and imagined them now, sparking with anger.

  “This is ridiculous. Liz told me she was going on vacation, but she promised you’d be there to help me,” Paula ranted.

  “Yes, I know, and I’m sorry.” Diana was ashamed. Selfishly, she had powered off her cell for too many hours during Liz’s absence. “But I’m here now, Paula, so how can I help?”

  “When is Liz due back? The stupid construction guys at my lot in Lakeview Estates are sitting on their butts. Nothin’s getting’ done, and we’re set to close in less than two weeks.”

  “Liz’ll be back sometime this weekend, and I’m sorry the men are goofing off.” If Diana had been practicing apologies for Matthew, she was getting plenty of experience with Paula.

  “You can bet your sweet ass those jerks are there now--- sittin’ around, crackin’ jokes, and eatin’ tacos.” Paula fumed. “I can’t wait for Liz. I want someone to light a fire now.”

  Diana sighed, looked at the storm cloud. “I understand. What would you like me to do?” She hoped Paula wasn’t getting buyer’s remorse, because Liz would kill her if this deal fell through.

  “I’m at Big Jay’s Mall and my fuckin’ car won’t start. I figure my retard husband left the lights on, and the battery’s dead. Can you pick me up, Diana? We can visit the property together.”

  Diana glanced at Gracie, who cocked her head and gave her a mournful look. Why hadn’t she brought Gracie’s leash along, why hadn’t Liz returned one day sooner, and what had she done to deserve this? The last thing she wanted was to spend a day alone with a pissed-off potential murderess, but Diana swallowed her self-pity and adjusted her attitude.

  “No problem, Paula. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

  FORTY

  Moral fiber…

  As promised, Paula was waiting outside Big Jay’s. She was leaning against the long hood of a gold, vintage sixties El Dorado that listed to one side, as though the white wall tires on the driver’s side were slightly deflated. What was it about these Dulas---Trevor with his Willys, Maynard w
ith his Caddy? It seemed they were stuck in a former decade, maybe a happier time for both?

  Paula hugged a large shopping bag in her arms, and by the huge grin on her heavily made up face, her mood was much improved. “Check it out…” she called as Diana approached. “Look what I bought on sale.” She pulled a black leather Harley Davidson jacket from the bag, then a pair of rhinestone-studded cowgirl boots. “Pretty cool, eh?”

  “Pretty hot for this weather,” Diana commented. She wouldn’t be caught dead in such a getup, but hey, it was perfect for Paula. “Did you call someone to come fix your car?”

  Paula shifted her long legs and scooted off the hood. She wore obscenely tight jeans shorts and a clinging pink top to enhance her generous figure. “Sure, Triple A’s on the way.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait until they get here?”

  “Hell, no. I left my keys, and they know what to do. We’ll swing by and pick up my car later.”

  It seemed these Dulas also made a habit of leaving their keys in their cars. “Don’t you need to pay them?”

  Paula offered an amused, cross-eyed response. “I gave ’em my card number, and I reckon my credit’s good.”

  I reckon. Diana kept that thought to herself. It stood to reason a multi-million dollar heiress could pretty much write her own ticket. “Ready to go, then?”

  “Gimme a sec…” Paula tossed her purchases into the Caddy, then fished out a carton of cigarettes. “You smoke?” She held the carton out towards Diana.

  “Nope, I quit.”

  “Now why don’t that surprise me?” Paula removed a pack for herself, then tossed the carton back in her car, through the open window.

  As the woman trailed Diana across the lot to Queen Vic, Diana was tempted to tell her to roll up her car’s window, in case it rained. Typical Diana, always trying to be someone’s mother. She suppressed her maternal instincts and allowed herself to relax, because maybe Paula wasn’t the monster she had originally supposed. The woman had offered her a gift of cigarettes, and although in politically correct circles the gesture was akin to offering someone lung cancer, Diana appreciated her generosity.

  “Hop in…” When Diana pressed her key remote, unlocking the doors to Queen Vic, Gracie howled in surprise to see a stranger.

  “What the fuck?” Paula recoiled when she saw the greyhound cowering in the front seat. “You expect me to ride with that animal?”

  Diana groaned inwardly, quickly revising her positive impression of Paula. “She won’t hurt you. Gracie’s a gentle soul.” Yet Paula wasn’t buying it. “Okay, get in back, Gracie.” She snapped her fingers, and for once her pet obeyed and jumped into the back seat. “Good girl!”

  Once convinced Gracie would not attack, Paula pointedly brushed dog hair off the upholstery and slid into the car. “Where I come from, dogs compete for food. It’s one thing to keep livestock, but a damn dog ain’t good for nothin’ but huntin’.”

  Diana gave Paula a hard stare.

  “I like cats, though,” the woman quickly amended.

  Oh god. Diana wanted to call Paula a few choice names, none of them complimentary, but she knew the world was made up of dog people and cat people, and the two groups seldom cross-pollinated. It was interesting, though, that Paula presented herself as such a country girl, when her dead cousin, Lori, had been just the opposite. As she peeked at the woman’s tough profile---long, dishwater blond hair framing her thin, cruel mouth---Diana couldn’t tell truth from fiction. Maybe the backwoods persona was a clever act.

  A few raindrops fell on the windshield as she steered out of Statesville and into the suburbs. Diana wondered if she should broach the subject of real estate. After all, that’s why she was here. But the woman seemed intent on discussing Big Jay’s, the store where she had just been shopping.

  The place was famous for selling discount cigarettes, cheapest in the nation, and several years ago a group of young, Islamic terrorists had actually purchased vanloads of cartons there. They were smuggling them north, selling them at a huge profit to finance Jihad, until they were finally captured at the Canadian border. Paula seemed impressed by their cunning.

  “You admire those terrorists?” Diana wondered.

  “Hell, yes. Maybe they were a gang of ignorant rag head shits, but they knew how to get what they wanted. Ask me, their plan was brilliant.”

  Diana scowled at her passenger, who was seriously lacking in moral fiber. “They got caught, Paula.”

  “Yeah, but sometimes the prize is worth the risk.”

  Diana let it go. She’d have plenty of time to reflect on Paula’s ethics, but at the moment she was entering Lakeview Estates and trying to recall how to find Paula’s property. The huge, gated community was still in the planning stages, with lot numbers posted on fragile, temporary signposts and very inadequate maps to distinguish one rutted red clay road from another. Diana paused at a crossroads. “Help me, Paula. I’m lost.”

  “That’s easy.” Paula grinned. “Soon as you smell a bunch of beaners sittin’ on their butts with their hands up their ass, you’ll know you’ve found my lot.”

  FORTY-ONE

  Bad mistake…

  Paula’s bigoted remark was beyond disgusting, so by the time they entered the wooded dogleg leading to the property, Diana was ready to call it a day.

  “Ready to kick ass, Diana?” Paula unclipped her seatbelt.

  They rounded a bend and climbed a steep promontory. On the crest of the hill stood the soaring framework for a mini mansion. The bruised purple sky served as a backdrop for the wooden skeleton, with fast-moving gray clouds racing high above the turrets. The scene had the surreal quality of a stage set for a horror movie, and as the car bumped onto the gravel lot, Diana saw they were alone---not a workman in sight.

  “Shit. What did I tell you?” Paula beat the dashboard with her fist. “Lazy mother fuckers.”

  Once Paula had exited the car and stomped angrily up the grade towards the project, Diana eyed Gracie, who was whining in the back seat. She again regretted not bringing a leash. She suspected Gracie needed to answer a call of nature, and thus far her dog had never attempted to run away, so she let her loose. Sure enough, Gracie sneaked into the bushes, squatted and peed, an embarrassed look on her face.

  “Are you coming, or what?” Paula hollered.

  “Be right there!” Diana whistled to Gracie, who sped to her side. “What do you think, girl? Shall we get this over with?”

  Paula was pacing the perimeter when they joined her. “I swear they got these studs wrong. The damn kitchen’s supposed to face west, so I can watch the sunset on the lake while I wash the stupid dishes.”

  Diana was unfamiliar with the floorplan, but she was determined to do her best. She knew something about construction and saw that much of the plumbing was in place. If she could locate the well and septic, then follow the pipes, perhaps she could determine where they’d made plans for the bathrooms and the kitchen.

  She noticed the concrete block foundation was in place on all four sides. It was built of twin walls running parallel, about two feet apart. These walls were approximately three feet tall at the rear of the structure and much higher in front, where the land fell away to a magnificent lake view across a deep valley.

  Paula had already found her way in through a future doorway, so Diana and Gracie followed carefully, avoiding the piles of two- by- fours, stacks of rebar, and other dangerous rubble. She said a silent prayer that Gracie would not step on a stray nail.

  “Why the hell aren’t they working?” Paula sheltered against the foundation, cupped her hand, and lit up a cigarette.

  “It’s Saturday, Paula, and a storm is coming.” Diana glanced at the angry sky. “Maybe they figured it wasn’t worth it?”

  “Bullshit. Liz promised my house would be done by August. At this rate, I’ll be lucky to move in by Christmas.”

  Diana was at a loss to comfort this woman, who was obviously coming unhinged. She saw tears in her eyes as she sucked at her
cigarette, and Diana wished she could give Liz a piece of her mind. Clearly the construction was way behind schedule, so it was irresponsible for Liz to misrepresent, no matter how badly they needed this sale.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do? I just checked into a hotel, but I can’t stay there forever. I’ll feel like a god damned gypsy.”

  Diana did a double take. “Aren’t you living with Maynard anymore?”

  Bad mistake. Paula dropped her cigarette and ground it viciously into the dirt with the toe of her sandal. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. And when she raised those eyes and stared, Diana felt like she’d been penetrated by two lasers. The woman’s pent-up fury cut deep, filling Diana with dread.

  “You ask too many questions, Diana. What the hell do you want?”

  “I don’t know what you mean…” Diana retreated several paces and looked around for Gracie, but the dog had her nose buried in a discarded white paper bag, obviously enjoying someone’s lunch scraps. She was definitely not in protective mode.

  Paula lit another smoke and advanced to where Diana was backed against a partial retaining wall. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? My lawyer, Geek Adams, told me you’d been asking about the terms of my uncle Loveless’ Trust. What was that about, bitch?”

  Suddenly Diana knew she was in serious trouble, but she could think of nothing to say in her own defense. Plus what ever happened to lawyer/client confidentiality? But then, Diana wasn’t Mecklin’s client, was she? It stood to reason he’d have to check with Paula before releasing the particulars to Linc Davis, then on to her.

  “I’m sorry,” Diana stuttered. “I wanted to be sure you had sufficient assets to afford this property. My mistake.”

  “Nice try.” Paula moved so close Diana coughed on the smoke she exhaled in her face. “Then I understand Ginny Troutman asked Trev last night if I had borrowed his Jeep the day my ignorant cousin Lori died. Obviously Ginny passed his answer on to you.”