Egg Drop Dead

by Laura Childs

  * * *

  THEY ran into Sam on the first floor, just as they hopped off the elevator.

  “Hey!” he said. “How’s Junior doing?”

  “About what you’d expect,” Suzanne said.

  “Grrrrrr,” Toni said, practically baring her teeth.

  Sam aimed an apologetic smile at Suzanne. “I’m sorry about ruining our dinner last night.”

  “Not nearly as sorry as Junior’s gonna be when he has to face me!” Toni cried.

  Which is when Suzanne decided to drive Toni back to her house for breakfast.

  CHAPTER 25

  “I’M an idiot,” Toni said as she sat at the counter in Suzanne’s kitchen. “Why do I even stay with that bumbling fool?”

  “Technically, you don’t stay with him,” Suzanne pointed out. “You live in a cozy little apartment while Junior occupies a dinged-up trailer that’s parked out by the town dump.”

  “You make it sound so charming,” Toni said.

  “I’m sure if Junior hung some nice harvest gold café curtains it would make all the difference in the world.”

  Toni chuckled. “Thank you, Suzanne.”

  Suzanne opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs. “So . . . how do you like your eggs?”

  “In a cake.”

  “Tell you what, I’m going to make us a nice batch of blueberry pancakes, okay?”

  “That sounds good.”

  Suzanne whipped up her batter and added a cup of fresh blueberries. Then she dropped a dozen silver dollar–sized cakes onto her sizzling grill. Once they were golden brown on both sides, she served the pancakes with butter and plenty of syrup.

  “You still love Junior, huh?” Suzanne asked as the two of them sat at the breakfast bar.

  Toni set her fork down and ran both hands through her curls. “Ah, I don’t know. Junior’s like kryptonite to me. I get all worked up about dumping him and then he just sucks me right back into his orbit.”

  “Maybe you need a marriage counselor.”

  “First we’d need to have an actual marriage,” Toni said. “And I just don’t see that happening.”

  * * *

  NOON came and went and still Toni was down in the dumps. She paced, scratched her head nervously, and generally fretted. She tried reading the Sunday paper but ended up just staring blankly into space.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Suzanne said.

  “Huh?” Toni said. She was veering from nervous to listless.

  “Let’s go hit that White Elephant Sale that’s going on in Founder’s Park today.”

  Since its inception some ten years ago, the citywide rummage sale had grown to include hundreds of vendors, a dozen food trucks, and even live music.

  Toni picked absently at her sweater. “Ah, I don’t really feel like going out.”

  “You’ve already called the hospital three times and Junior’s doing just fine. Come on, we’ve got our phones. If there’s any change, the hospital will call. They’ve got our numbers.”

  “My hair’s a mess,” Toni said. “And I’m not wearing a speck of makeup. My poor face is bare naked.”

  “I’ve got hot rollers and plenty of makeup upstairs. Come on. Get dressed, pop open a button on your blouse, do a five-minute primp, and let’s boogie on out of here.” When Toni made no motion to get moving, Suzanne said, “There are food trucks, you know. With really bad stuff like Belgian waffles and chocolate chunk cookies and apple crisp smothered in caramel.”

  Toni seemed to perk up. “Do you think there’ll be funnel cakes, too?”

  “I don’t know. We’d have to go to find out.”

  Toni hoisted herself up off the couch. “Girlfriend. You always did know how to motivate me.”

  * * *

  THE blocks surrounding Founder’s Park were parked up bumper to bumper, so Suzanne and Toni cruised down a narrow avenue until they found a spot some five blocks away.

  No problem, because as they headed back toward the tents and the White Elephant Sale, they serendipitously passed a line of food trucks. Suzanne immediately gravitated toward the fried cheese curds while Toni went wild over a waffle cone filled with spumoni.

  “Yum,” Toni said as she licked her treat. “This is my idea of good nutrition. Pancakes for breakfast, ice cream for lunch. Just don’t call the carb cops on me.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m your partner in crime here, too.”

  “Whoa,” Toni exclaimed when they finally arrived at the park. “Look at this mob.” There were hundreds of booths selling antiques, vintage clothing, handmade crafts, used books, homemade preserves, chocolate fudge, leather goods, jars of honey, and quilts.

  “Look at this gorgeous wedding ring pattern,” Suzanne said as she fingered a pink-and-cream-colored quilt.

  Toni grinned. “And somebody I know will be getting married soon.”

  “I don’t think I could ever get Sam to agree to a pink and cream quilt on our bed.”

  “Honey, I don’t think Sam cares what’s on his bed as long as you’re in his bed.”

  Founder’s Park was a riot of activity as they strolled the rows of booths. A multitude of black electrical cords lay like a giant spiderweb across part of the grassy lawn. In the center, an open spot had been reserved for music and dancing.

  “Got some tunes cookin’,” Toni observed.

  A man with a long, gray ponytail and beat-up guitar banged out “Take It to the Limit,” an old Eagles song, while a gaggle of preteen girls bounced and twirled in the grass. Off to the side, a woman who must have been the guitarist’s wife sat at a booth selling her husband’s CDs along with chunks of homemade lavender soap.

  Toni was still being a trouper as she strolled along, but she was only half there—the other half was back in the hospital room worrying about Junior. She scanned the wares at the craft booths halfheartedly. “Do I need a spoon ring? No. Do I need a fringed leather halter top? No.”

  “Cheer up, will you?” Suzanne said. “Let’s at least buy some homemade fudge or something.” They strolled up to a booth and gazed at pans of fudge, toffee, and peanut brittle. “Maybe a half pound of this brittle?”

  Toni gave Suzanne a nudge. “Do you remember that movie Jurassic Park where the T. rex was thundering through the jungle trying to lunch on the people in that Jeep?”

  Suzanne lifted an eyebrow. “Uh . . . yeah?”

  “Don’t look now but something just as large and just as mean is heading our way.”

  Suzanne turned to find Sheriff Doogie lumbering toward them. He carried a bag of caramel corn, one big paw digging in repeatedly to toss handfuls into his mouth.

  “Do you think if we stand perfectly still, he won’t see us?”

  “Did that work in the movie?” Suzanne asked.

  Toni lifted a shoulder. “Not so well.”

  So Suzanne did the next-best thing. She put a pro forma smile on her face and said, “Hello there, Sheriff. Nice to see you.”

  “You look like a man on a mission,” Toni said. She made a sweeping motion with her hand. “The mini donuts are thataway.”

  “Ha ha, very funny,” Doogie said. He tipped his head back and poured another helping of caramel corn into his mouth.

  “Are you here looking for antiques or did you come to arrest me for stealing Julian Elder’s horses?” Suzanne asked.

  “Why?” Doogie asked, chewing vigorously. “Are you ready to confess?”

  “Certainly not to a crime I didn’t commit.”

  With eyes that were cool and calculating, Doogie gazed at Suzanne. “But you know something,” he said slowly. “And I’m gonna get to the bottom of it yet.”

  “Better you should be hunting for the guys who beat the tar out of Junior Garrett last night,” Suzanne said.

  “Yes!” Toni cried.

  Doogie did a quick
attitude adjustment. “I heard he was pretty messed up.”

  “Popped his shoulder and broke his leg,” Toni said. She looked like she was ready to cry again.

  “I take it the hospital notified you?” Suzanne asked.

  “We got the call late last night, but they told us Junior was too out of it to give any sort of statement.”

  “But you’re going to follow up on his assault?” Toni pressed.

  “Oh yeah, hell yeah,” Doogie said. “Driscoll’s gonna drop by the hospital this afternoon, interview Junior, and write up a report.”

  “Just a report?” Suzanne asked.

  “We gotta start somewhere,” Doogie said. “Lord knows what trouble Junior got himself into this time. Amusing as he may be, the boy isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.” He nodded at Toni. “No offense, Toni.”

  “None taken,” Toni said. “I know Junior sometimes dances along the fine line of incoherence.”

  “I realize your department is busy right now what with Junior getting beat up and those horses gone missing,” Suzanne said. “But how’s the investigation into Mike Mullen’s murder coming along?”

  “It’s ongoing. We’re sniffing around a couple of leads. Questioning a number of suspects.”

  “That sounds awfully vague,” Suzanne said. She was about to say more, push Doogie a little bit harder, when his phone rang.

  Doogie held up a finger. “Hang on, I gotta get this.” He turned and stepped away from them for privacy’s sake, then suddenly shouted, “Holy shit!” His bag of caramel corn flew out of his hands, the kernels bouncing everywhere.

  People all around Doogie turned to stare, then moved away as he continued to jabber into his phone. Then he checked his watch, clicked off, and stuffed the phone in his breast pocket.

  “Looks like we might be able to clear you after all,” Doogie said to Suzanne.

  “What’s going on?” Suzanne asked. It looked like something big had just happened.

  “Somebody just phoned in a tip about Elder’s missing horses,” Doogie said. “Apparently they’re over at the Jorgenson place.” He grinned and gave a thumbs-up. “We might have caught a real break here.”

  Suzanne suddenly felt sick to her stomach. “You’re going out there right now?”

  “Duty calls.” Doogie slapped a hand against his holstered gun, spun away, and bulldozed his way through the crowd.

  Toni stared after him. “At least he got a break in the missing horses.”

  “This is so bad,” Suzanne murmured.

  Toni frowned. “Why?”

  “Because Noah’s got those horses,” Suzanne said. “He stole them out of Elder’s pasture because he was afraid they’d be shipped to Canada for horsemeat.”

  “What!”

  Suzanne gripped Toni’s arm. “I’ve got to get out there and run interference for Noah. Because, sure as anything, Doogie’s going to arrest that poor boy. Come on, I’ll drop you off at my place.”

  “Are you kidding?” Toni said. “I’m coming along. No way I’m going to miss this!”

  * * *

  BY the time Suzanne and Toni arrived at the Jorgenson farm, it looked like a full-force police action. Doogie was hauling Noah out the front door with the boy’s arms twisted behind him. Faith Anne dogged their progress, screaming like a scalded chicken. Her face was an angry snarl as her long gray hair streamed out behind her.

  “Noah didn’t take any horses!” Faith Anne cried. “He wouldn’t do that!”

  “Pu-please!” Noah shrilled as Doogie perp-walked him toward his cruiser, where the light bar pulsed red and blue.

  “Holy cats, will you look at that,” Suzanne said as she and Toni sat in her car, stunned by this bizarre turn of events.

  “Maybe we should go over there and try to calm things down,” Toni said. “See if cooler heads can prevail.” She had just opened the passenger door a couple of inches when a second maroon and tan car blasted past them, almost clipping her door.

  “Holy crap!” Toni yelped, pulling back.

  The second sheriff’s car slewed to a stop and Deputy Driscoll jumped out. He was followed closely by Todd Lansky, who, surprisingly, was sporting a sidearm and a shiny deputy badge on his chest.

  “Look at Lansky,” Suzanne said. “Doogie must have deputized him.”

  Toni nodded. “He said he was going to put on a couple more deputies.”

  “Now we really have to do something,” Suzanne said. She hopped out of her car and ran toward Doogie, waving her arms. “Doogie, Sheriff Doogie.”

  Doogie saw Suzanne and frowned. “You followed me? What the heck do you think you’re doing?” he barked.

  “Let me explain things,” Suzanne said.

  “No, let me explain things,” Doogie said. “This is official business, so remove yourself from this property immediately.” He pulled Noah’s arms back tighter.

  Suzanne stood her ground. “I just need to put in my two cents’ worth about the horses.”

  Doogie’s head swiveled toward her again. “What did you say?”

  “Tell him,” Noah pleaded. “Tell him I was only trying to help!”

  Doogie jerked Noah hard. “So you did take those horses, you little twerp. Two minutes ago you lied to me and said you didn’t know anything about them.”

  “He didn’t take the horses!” Faith Anne hollered at Doogie’s broad back. “Why won’t anybody listen to me?”

  Sissy, Noah’s black-and-white dog, suddenly lunged out of nowhere and nipped at Doogie’s pants leg.

  “Ouch!” Doogie screamed. “Somebody get that stupid mutt off me before I shoot it.”

  “No!” Noah cried.

  “Sissy!” Suzanne shouted in her show-the-dog-who’s-master voice. The dog hesitated, looked over at her, and wagged its tail. Then it trotted obediently toward her. Suzanne grabbed Sissy’s collar and said, “Okay, can we all just take a nice deep breath here?”

  Doogie glanced at Lansky. “Todd, will you escort Mrs. Jorgenson back inside her house while I straighten out this happy crap?”

  “Got it,” Lansky said.

  “No!” Faith Anne wailed as she was reluctantly led inside.

  “Okay, kid,” Doogie said. He released Noah and spun him around hard. “Start talking. Tell me exactly where those animals are.”

  Noah bowed his head and, in a hoarse whisper, said, “It’s better if I show you.”

  CHAPTER 26

  THEY trooped through the woods single file. Noah, Doogie, Driscoll, Suzanne, and Toni. Even though it was a gorgeous day—the fall foliage erupting in a riot of reds and bronzes—nobody seemed to notice.

  When they arrived at the small barn, Noah opened the door and they all ducked inside.

  “Hot damn,” Doogie said when he spotted the four horses. Then he turned and glowered at Noah. “You stole these animals.”

  Noah shook his head vigorously. “No.”

  “Then how did they get here?” Doogie asked snidely. “Fly over here like magic?” He cocked an angry eye at Noah. “Kid, you better start talking. And I want the truth this time.”

  Noah crept forward and touched a small sorrel mare on her neck. “I didn’t steal these horses, sir, I rescued them. Mr. Elder was treating them poorly. He gave them hardly any hay to eat and their water trough was dirty and scummy.” Noah worked up his courage to meet Doogie’s disapproving eyes. “These horses were starving.”

  Doogie seemed to consider Noah’s words. “That’s a separate issue, Noah. There are legal protocols for reporting animal abuse. A complaint has to be filed, then a judge has to decide if a full investigation is warranted.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Doogie kicked at a clump of hay with his foot and glanced over at Suzanne. One eye was half closed and she could see the wheels turning inside his head.

  “Tell me why
you’re here, Suzanne?” Doogie asked.

  “She’s my friend,” Noah said quickly. “She told me if I ever needed help that I should call her.”

  “That so, Suzanne?”

  “We are friends,” Suzanne said. She was relieved that Noah hadn’t ratted her out. That he hadn’t told Doogie that she’d known the horses were here all along.

  Doogie glanced at Driscoll. “Are you buying this, Driscoll?”

  Driscoll’s lip curled. “I’m not sure, Sheriff.”

  Doogie put his hands on his ample hips and glanced around the barn. “Where’d you get all this hay, Noah? I see . . . what? Maybe two dozen bales stacked up over there?”

  This time Noah remained silent.

  Doogie moved closer to the stack of hay bales. “Did you steal this hay, too? Am I going to have to explain to some poor farmer how you . . .” Doogie stopped suddenly, his eyes practically bugging out. Then he leaned forward and yelped, “Holy Christmas!”

  “What is it?” Driscoll yelled.

  “Get me a pair of latex gloves. Quick!” A purple vein throbbed in Doogie’s forehead and he looked like he was about ready to hyperventilate.

  Driscoll knelt down and pulled a pair of gloves from his fanny pack. Then he handed them to Doogie.

  Nervous, wondering what Doogie had found that was so startling, Suzanne slunk forward. “What’s going on, Sheriff? What did you find?”

  Doogie pulled the stretchy gloves onto his meaty hands and snapped them neatly in place. Then he reached behind a hay bale and pulled out a long, dangerous-looking knife. “Will you take a look at this,” he said, every syllable coming out clipped and harsh.

  Suzanne gasped. Doogie was holding a machete!

  “Holy crap,” Toni muttered. “Maybe the kid did kill Mike Mullen after all.”

  “Don’t you dare say that!” Suzanne cried. She knew this wasn’t right. Noah had somehow been set up. But who would do such a thing? The real killer?

  “Evidence doesn’t lie,” Doogie said. He said it in a smarmy, gloating tone, as if he was proud to have solved Mike’s murder and the case of the missing horses all in one fell swoop.