Mud Bog Murder

by Lesley A. Diehl

  “So Jenny was engaged?” Frida said. She put the bottle back in the drawer and took a quick look out her office door to make certain no one in the station had observed us. “Do you know to whom?”

  “Some Yankee. Ask her daughter. Whoever it is, I didn’t see anyone at the event fitting that description, although word of her death has to have gotten around the county by now. Shouldn’t the guy at least be demanding answers from you or the officers at the scene as to who killed her?” Another idea came to mind, so I shared it with Frida. “Or maybe he’s the one who did her in.”

  Frida tapped her pencil on the desktop. “Looking around for other suspects already, Eve? Must I remind you that this is a case for the police, not a consignment shop owner?”

  “Please do remind her. She needs to be reminded not to butt into police business every chance she gets.” Alex stood in the door of Frida’s office. “Do I smell booze?”

  Frida’s dark face reddened. “Keep it to yourself.”

  “Only if you don’t keep it to yourself,” Alex said.

  Frida once more took the bottle out and poured Alex a shot, which he put away as quickly as I had. Frida understood how badly a man might need a shot of courage being the boyfriend of a gal like me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Looking for you. I tried your cell and got no answer, so I called Jerry. He said you were at the protest, but when I went there and saw all the police, I knew where to find you. You’re always in the middle of everything criminal around here.”

  Yes, I am, and so what?

  Alex ignored the mulish look I gave him and put his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “You okay, Eve?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I guess. I’m more worried about Madeleine. She’s ….” I was about to tell him she got sick at the protest and why, but I shut up just in time.

  Frida’s cell rang. She talked for only a moment, then held it out to me. “It’s Madeleine.”

  “I figured you’d be in Frida’s office being questioned. I’m fine and everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Oh, Madeleine, if I’d known, I would never have let you ….” I stopped and looked at the two pairs of curious eyes in the room observing me. “I’ll pick you up as soon as Frida is finished grilling.”

  “No, no. I called David. He’s on his way. I think he and I need to talk.”

  I said goodbye and handed the phone back to Frida. “Madeleine is having David pick her up at the hospital. She’s fine.”

  “Madeleine’s in the hospital? What’s going on?” asked Alex.

  I explained to Alex my unlucky catch and Madeleine’s reaction to it.

  He and Frida exchanged looks.

  “I can’t help it if these things happen to me. I don’t like being at murder scenes. I think it must be bad karma.” I glared at them both, then said. “Can I go now? I think I need comfort food and some more booze.”

  “I’ll drive you home then,” said Alex.

  “My car is in the lot.”

  “I’ll drive you in your car, and we can get mine later,” Alex insisted. I gave in.

  Outside Frida’s office, I encountered Shelley sitting alone on a bench.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry to hear about your mother. Isn’t there anyone you can call to be with you?”

  She shook her head and looked up at me with tearful eyes. “No. I have an aunt in Ohio, my dad’s sister, but she’s really old and can’t travel. I can take care of myself, I guess.” She swiped at her red nose with a soggy tissue.

  “This isn’t the time to be alone.” I reached out and pulled her off the bench. “You’re coming home with me.”

  Frida stood behind us. “I’m sorry, Shelley, but I need to talk with you first. I know this is hard for you, but there are questions you have to answer.”

  “Fine. I’ll stay here with her until you’re through.” I steered Shelley toward Frida’s office.

  “Eve, come back here!” Alex said. “You need to take care of yourself, not play nursemaid to some young woman you barely know.”

  “She lost her mother in a horrible way—that’s all I need to know. I’ll see you later.” I led Shelley into Frida’s office and pushed her down into the chair I’d just vacated. There were no extra seats. “I’ll stand until you’re finished.” I leaned against the back wall.

  “No you don’t,” Frida said. “You’ll wait outside.” Frida pointed toward the door.

  “But—”

  “Now,” she said, still pointing.

  An hour later, after I had gone to the bathroom and tried none too successfully to remove what Madeleine had deposited on my boots—dried puke was worse than dried-on egg yolk—Shelley emerged, looking much worse than when she entered.

  I put my arm around her and said, “What did you do to her, Frida?”

  Frida shook her head, looking unhappy and uncomfortable. “I did my job, that’s all.”

  “It’s fine, Miss Eve,” said Shelley. “She was as kind as she could be, but it’s all so awful that I can hardly believe it. How can I live without Mama?”

  “You’ll live because she would want you to. You’ll find the strength, and there are people who will help you,” I said.

  As tears spilled from her eyes, Shelley asked, “Who?”

  “Well, there are plenty of people. Your mother’s friends, and ….” And then I had nothing. The poor young woman had no relatives, and her mother had few friends I knew of. I didn’t know any of Shelley’s friends either. Did she have a best girlfriend? Jenny had mentioned a boyfriend she found unpleasant. I’d forgotten his name, but he didn’t sound like the kind of support Shelley needed right now.

  “Do you have a best friend you’d like me to call?”

  She shook her head. “You could call Darrel Hogan. He’s my boyfriend.”

  Right. That was the guy’s name. “We’ll do that later. For now let’s go to my place and you can rest there.”

  “Could I just go by the house and get a few things?” Shelley asked.

  “I can loan you whatever you need—toothbrush, pajamas, anything.”

  Shelley looked embarrassed and leaned close to my ear. “I know this makes me sound like a baby, but I have a teddy bear I sleep with.”

  I gave her a hug. “Sure. No problem. I understand.”

  “If that’s no problem for you, Eve, I think it’s a good idea,” Frida said. “Shelley gave me permission to search the ranch house, and I think it’ll be easier if she’s not in it at the time. I’ll follow you out to the ranch and accompany Shelley while she gets … whatever.” Frida grabbed her jacket off the back of her office chair and joined us on our way out.

  I wrapped my arm around Shelley’s shoulders, and we walked out the door to my car. Alex was leaning against my convertible. The scowl on his face told me he wasn’t happy I’d remained waiting for Shelley and was now escorting her to my car.

  “You just can’t keep your nose out of police matters, can you?”

  I ignored his comment. This was not about “police matters.” It was about a young woman having lost her mother. I knew what it was like losing parents. I opened the passenger door for Shelley and then walked to the other side of the car to confront Alex.

  “I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but right now it’s Shelley we should be concerned for. You need to step back and—”

  “And then do what? Step out of your life?” He waited for me to reply, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I need your support, not your interference or your permission to do what I need to do. If you can’t let me be my own person, then perhaps it would be better for you to find someone who defines herself in terms of you, because I don’t.” I got into my car, started the engine, and drove off.

  “Did you just break up with your boyfriend?” asked Shelley.

  Did I? Maybe so.

  Chapter 4

  There was a black, four-door pickup truck in the driveway of Shelley’s house when I
pulled in.

  “Is that Darrel’s truck?”

  “No. It looks like my next-door neighbor’s.” Shelley’s shoulders drooped. “He used to drop by a lot to see Mom until ….”

  “Until what?” I asked.

  “Until she got engaged and stuff.”

  “ ‘Stuff’? What ‘stuff’?” I asked.

  “You know, like when grownups disagree about things.” She sighed. “I think he said I was too young to date Darrel. Mom told him to mind his own business.”

  As we got out of the car, Frida’s cruiser pulled in behind us. The door of the truck opened and a tall, lean man stepped out.

  “The police told me I wasn’t to go into the house, but that I could wait out here. I was hoping you’d be home soon, Miss Shelley.” The man wore a pair of tight jeans, Western shirt, and a Stetson. He was clean-shaven with the exception of a mustache above his broad lips. “I just wanted to come by and tell you how sorry I am about your mama.”

  Frida stepped forward. “I can’t let you in the house, Mr. Archer. I’m kind of surprised the officers at the drive entrance let you get this far.”

  “Sorry about that, but I promised them I wouldn’t get out of the car.” He smiled to reveal his white, even teeth. The smile was dazzling—sexy and friendly.

  Frida smiled back. “I don’t suppose you know each other. Clay Archer, this is Eve Appel.”

  He stuck out his huge hand and shook mine. I could feel the calluses on his palm and fingers.

  “Mr. Archer owns the next ranch,” Shelley said and turned toward the house. “Can I go in now?”

  Archer’s eyes traveled from my face to my toes with a look that said he appreciated a tall gal. “I heard tell of you in town.”

  “All good, I hope.” I grinned. I found myself attracted to this man. I tried to rein in my flirting. He wasn’t here to dally with some gal he just met but to pay his respects to Shelley.

  “Depends,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to leave. Shelley needs to get a few things out of the house; then we’ll be searching it.” Frida opened the driver’s side door on the truck and gestured Mr. Archer toward it.

  He tipped his hat to Shelley, gave me a look I couldn’t decode, and left.

  “Okay, Eve, you wait here. Shelley, it’s in and out, grab your stuff, then you go home with Eve.”

  I made Shelley comfortable in my guest bedroom and brought her a cup of tea. She was too young to drink yet; otherwise I would have offered her some of the Scotch I poured for myself. She held her stuffed bear tightly to her chest.

  When I came into the bedroom with her tea, she was talking on her cell with someone. I assumed it was her boyfriend, the guy her mother mentioned in the shop. She ended the conversation and smiled up at me.

  “Your fella?” I asked.

  “Darrell. He wants to come over. Would that be okay with you?”

  I wanted her to feel better, but I wasn’t certain I was comfortable with someone Jenny had told me liked to lift items from stores without paying. Still, it wasn’t as if Shelley would be here long. What harm could it do if Darrell’s presence helped her deal with her mother’s death? I gave my consent. She called him back.

  “He’ll be here in about a half hour. He won’t stay long.”

  “If it makes you feel better, then great.” I hesitated. It seemed Shelley had experienced enough difficulty for one day, but I thought I should at least prepare her for what would happen in the days to come. “Do you know where your mother keeps her legal papers? At home or perhaps in a bank box?”

  Shelley looked perplexed. “Why is that important?”

  “There’s the issue of her will and also any contracts she might have signed—especially the contract with the company running the mud bog race.”

  Shelley’s face crumpled with distress and she put her head in her hands. “Oh God! I don’t know anything about legal stuff. I don’t think I can handle it. Maybe my boyfriend can help. I’ll ask him when he gets here.”

  Well, I’d put my foot in it now. If Jenny was right about the boy, he was the last person who should be looking through Jenny’s legal papers.

  “Better yet, if you don’t know the name of your family’s lawyer,” I said, and she shook her head, “I’ll call mine and she can work with you on this.”

  I’d covered this problem just in time because the doorbell rang. I expected Darrell was here already, more than eager to help his girlfriend with what might or might not be a considerable estate.

  I ran to open it, my best Eve-surrogate-mother-in-residence-look on my face.

  Instead of Shelley’s young man, it was David, Madeleine’s husband, scowling darkly.

  “Madeleine just told me about the baby. What were you thinking to drag her off to the rally, Eve?”

  “Wait just a minute, buddy. I knew nothing about the baby.”

  I was dealing with too many men overprotective of their women, men who assumed women weren’t capable of running their own lives. First Alex and now David. And it was apparently only the beginning.

  I heard a car screech around the corner, then pull up in front of my house. A skinny, stringy-haired guy got out of an old Camaro with battered, black front fenders, the rest of the body a mottled orange. He strode toward the front door where David and I were still conversing.

  “Where are you keeping Shelley?” he asked. A cigarette hung out the side of his mouth, and he reeked of something sweet, something I hadn’t smelled for a while. Marijuana. He tried to push past me and David, but David—taller and heavier—blocked his path.

  “Shelley needs a little rest. She’s doing that here,” I said.

  “She needs me,” he said. “Let me in.”

  Instead of confronting all that youthful testosterone head on, I decided it was best I ignore his surly tone … for now. I gestured him through the door and pointed toward the guest room. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

  As he passed by, I reached out, plucked the cigarette from his mouth, and tossed it into the yard. “Didn’t you see the ‘no smoking’ sign?”

  He looked confused for a moment, then muttered something that sounded more like a growl than human speech and hurried down the hallway toward the guest room.

  Now I needed to calm David somehow.

  “I know you’re worried, but Madeleine’s going to be fine, David. I suspect some morning sickness, common in many pregnancies. That’s what they said at the hospital, right?”

  David settled back on his heels. His body seemed to relax and he nodded.

  “She just overdid it this morning and she knows it, right?”

  He nodded again.

  “I was so surprised at the news,” I said, dropping my defensiveness, and added, “I’m so happy for both of you.”

  He smiled for a second, then the smile faded.

  “I hope you continue to feel that way, because I’m here to tell you that I don’t want Madeleine to work at the store any longer. It’s just too much for her.”

  That declaration made me prickly. “She’s pregnant, David, not ill. Pregnant women work all the time.”

  “Maybe so, but not my wife.”

  Yet another man deciding what a woman could or couldn’t do. I stared beyond him toward the street. God, give me a break and please save me from these guys. At least for today.

  A black SUV pulled up behind the two cars already there. I smiled. Now here was a true macho man, but one who knew what sassy women like me were all about. My kind of guy. Nappi Napolitani, my mob boss friend, must have heard about the murder. Of all of the men in my life, he was the only one I could think of that I did want to see and the only one whose advice about this murder I wanted to hear. My prayers had been answered. Someone up there did like me. Maybe God was a woman after all.

  David watched Nappi get out of the car. “Here’s someone who knows what’s best. He’ll tell you Madeleine should be at home and not on her feet all day at the store.”

&
nbsp; Ever the gentleman, Nappi took my hand, kissed my fingers, and gave me his broadest smile. He always made me feel like I was the most special person in the world. Looking from my face to David’s, he asked, “Is this a bad time? I can come back later.”

  “Nope. I just learned Madeleine’s pregnant,” David said.

  Nappi grabbed David’s hand and shook it heartily. “Congratulations. I am so happy for you both.”

  “Eve and I would like your input on something. Don’t you think Madeleine should stop working during her pregnancy?”

  “Oh, is she having a difficult pregnancy?” said Nappi.

  “Well, no, but—”

  “What does Madeleine say about working? Has she checked with her doctor?”

  “She was checked over today at the hospital,” I said and filled Nappi in about what had landed in my hands at the rally and Madeleine’s reaction to it.

  “It wouldn’t take morning sickness for me to throw up at that sight,” said Nappi.

  My mouth dropped open in amazement. He was a “Family” man with a delicate stomach? I found that hard to believe.

  “My wife had morning sickness with all our little ones.”

  “But she stayed at home, right?” David insisted.

  “Sure. We had our babies close together. She stayed home to take care of them. She had her hands full. There always seemed to be one in diapers, one a terrible two—running around the house destroying everything he could reach—and one on the way. She had help, however.”

  David smiled. “Of course. You would have hired a nanny.”

  “No, when I said she had help, the help was me. At first I was useless, but I soon became quite skilled at the diaper thing. You will be too.”

  David looked flustered for a moment, then seemed to recover himself. “I’ve got to get home to Madeleine.”

  “Tell her I’ll call her later tonight to talk.” I waved goodbye to David’s back. I guess he felt frustrated that his attempt to solicit Nappi’s support for Madeleine staying home hadn’t quite worked.

  “I’m sorry you got in the middle of that, Nappi.”