Risky Alliance

by N. C. Anderson

  * * * *

  Sue tossed Andee a towel. “Come on,” she said, smiling. “We'd better get in the house. Your dad and Mike are all alone with that pizza."

  Andee wrapped the towel around her shoulders, her ash-blond hair, curled toward her cheeks, enhancing her delicate features. “Should I just get dressed and wait till I get to Grandma's to take a shower?” Brandy rose to walk between them as they moved slowly toward the house, and Andee's fingers stroked the dogs’ ears.

  “Good idea,” Sue answered, trailing her hand across Brandy's spine. “The plumber is coming tomorrow morning.” She sighed. “But, it could take him a week to repair both the bathrooms.” She placed her arm around Andee's shoulder as they crossed the patio. “You did a great job putting your room back together. I know Grandma did some of it the other day, but she didn't know where everything went.” Andee had even painted her closet door. Jacob bought her the paint because it was the only way to stop Andee's tears. With each stroke of the brush, their daughter seemed to grow stronger, more confident, and she faced the remaining damage with an admirable courage Sue ached for.

  Stepping into the family room, Andee said, “Grandma's terrific, isn't she, Mom."

  “This whole family is terrific,” Jacob added to her statement from his recliner. “But a couple of the members won't get anything to eat if they don't hurry."

  Stretched across the floor in front of the TV was Michael. Navy-blue eyes virtually shimmering, he pointed at his nearly empty tray of pizza and salad, and said, “Won't get dessert either, if I get to it first.” He lifted the tray when Brandy trotted over, obviously to see if he might share. After breaking off a chunk of pizza, he tossed it to her and she caught it, tail wagging, ears standing tall. Before she had it chewed, Bandit came for the same treatment.

  It can't work this fast, Jacob, Sue thought. Please don't do this. Don't give the kids the idea that we can live together today—or even tomorrow. She said, “Well, don't get too comfortable, Mike, because we'll have to be leaving in a couple of hours.” To Jacob, she added, “Can we work on the rest of the cleaning after the painter gets finished?”

  “Speaking of the painter,” he said, nodding and rising from his chair. “I have some samples sitting on the kitchen table. If you'll help me for a few minutes, I can leave him a note on what color to paint what."

  She followed him across the clay-tiled kitchen. “Let the kids help you,” she said. “They stay here several times a year. And, they have a good eye for color."

  Jacob stopped beside the table, keeping his reaction to her words from showing in his expression or his voice. He had sworn to himself he wouldn't remark on their married-unmarried situation until she had been here at least a week. He didn't think he could keep his silence any longer than that. “I've already done that.” He turned the samples in her direction. “Andee marked what she liked and which room, then Mike put in his two-cents. You know I'm pretty much color-blind when it comes to decorating, so it'll help if you can put in a dime's worth."

  “All right,” she said, pulling a chair from the table. “Then sit down, and let's get this over with.” Jacob was holding his silence, obviously. Well, she could do the same thing. She just couldn't let it bother her that she was putting some of herself into the repairs. She glanced around. Everywhere she looked her ideas and possessions were evident. It seemed he hadn't changed anything, except for the forty-inch TV that graced the family room, not to mention the bevy of little square speakers tucked here and there. That hadn't been a surprise. Mike and Jacob had gone shopping last football season when the kids visited. Mike had talked about it for months after they returned. She listened for a moment to the music from the movie Mike watched. She had to admit it sounded wonderful.

  “Dish yourself up some food first,” he said. “I can't let the help starve. Especially since the job isn't finished yet.”

  “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “this might get the younger-set to give you their best, but next time I'd like a raise. Maybe a T-bone would do."

  Jacob sat down beside her. “Just put it in the suggestion box, and the boss will review it tomorrow."

  “Consider it done,” she quipped as she studied the paint samples and the notes beside some of them. “The union will approve of such timely consideration.” She bit into the pizza, wishing she could twitch her nose and be back in Iowa. Coming had been a mistake. Every single painful memory of leaving the first time flooded her mind, and concentrating on paint samples wouldn't flush them away. Nothing had ever washed them away.

  * * * *

  Later that night when the kids had finished their showers and Sue was taking hers, Abby walked past the bedroom that was once Jacob's. She stopped beside the open door. Michael lay on his back on Jacob's old bed, tossing Jacob's old basketball toward the ceiling, catching it, and tossing it again. His lower lip pouted some, and his eyebrows looked pinched in concern. For a moment she thought she was in a time warp and it was really Jacob lying there on the blue-striped quilt. Abby rapped lightly on the doorframe. “Can I come in for a while?”

  Michael nodded, tossing the ball again.

  After pulling the chair away from the desk against the wall, Abby sat down, pushed off her slippers, and put her feet on the edge of the bed. Then she noticed Andee, curled up in the over-stuffed green chair across the room near the closet. She was chewing on the end of a very long red-licorice string, her expression about the same a Michael's.

  “Okay,” she began, “do I get to know what's going on, or is this a private meeting?” They certainly looked sad.

  When the ball came down, Michael caught it then placed it on the bed beside him. He looked at Abby. “She thinks we gotta keep an eye on Mom and Dad. If they don't start getting closer together, then we gotta do something to help.”

  “Well,” Andee said. “We can't sit by and do nothing."

  “Perhaps,” Abby ventured, “it's a little early for any masterminding....” She leaned forward. “How long did you plan to watch them?"

  “I think Grandma's right,” Michael said, looking at Andee. Grandma had a point, he thought. They had gotten along real well at the house all day. And Dad did say he wanted some space with Mom. “We wouldn't wanna make a move too soon."

  Andee sighed. “How about a week?"

  “That's a fair amount of time,” Abby said. “I suggest another meeting in a week. By then you'll know a bit more."

  She pushed her feet back into her slippers. “I'd be happy to help, if you'll let me."

  With her forehead clearing of its wrinkles, and the creases of her mouth going from tipped down to tipped upward, Andee sat straighter in the chair. “We could always use another head, Grandma. We've been trying alone for a year and a half, so if you can think of something, please tell us."

  Hearing the shower stop down the hall, Abby stood up and walked to the door, wishing she had realized sooner how deeply the family situation was affecting them. It was always clear to her that they suffered, but they never seemed to be bleeding—like now. “I need to give this some thought.” She hesitated, turning to look at them. At least their expressions looked more hopeful than when she first entered. “Let's put it this way: count me in.” She could hear Sue coming, so she winked at them and walked out the door.

  Michael resumed tossing the ball. The future just might be looking up. Maybe if Grandma told them to stop living apart, they would fix things. But Grandma would never order his parents around. However, she might have an idea they hadn't thought of.

  He smiled at Andee when she raised her arms, clenched her hands to fists, yanked them down, and loudly whispered,"Yes.”

  He actually felt like smiling. Grandma might make things more interesting, anyway.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 14

  Wednesday morning Sue poured strong, hot coffee into her cup, and had no more than sat down at Abby's kitchen table with it when Jacob appeared. He looked shaven to shiny, and his body seemed sleepily r
elaxed in his black, western-cut shirt, jeans and snakeskin boots. The black Stetson he wore, sat jauntily on his head; his navy-blue eyes were, as always sharply alert and busy taking in everything in the room.

  Grabbing two slices of toast from the toaster on the table, she tore her gaze away from the healthy, tanned biceps emerging from the short sleeves of his shirt and quickly buttered it. “You—er—get a new hat?” She didn't believe he would ever part with the totally abused black Stetson hat he had worn since graduating college.

  “Had to,” he mumbled, helping himself to coffee. The delicately designed china cup, though of normal size, looked like it came from a child's tea set in his large, capable fingers. “Bandit finished off the old one. Brandy was bringing it to me one morning when he decided he was the one who should carry it. Brandy, on the other hand, didn't go along with the idea.” He chuckled. “So they each brought me half."

  Sue couldn't picture him chuckling when it happened. Better she could hear him yelling in pain, since the hat seemed like an extended growth. “Hope you didn't get too mad at them.” She sipped her coffee. “You know, Bandit thinks the world of Abby, why don't you bring him over here until you get the security system put in?” It wasn't that she didn't trust Tim's capabilities to have the place closely watched, but she would feel even more confident having the large faithful dog in the house.

  He sat down and lifted a piece of toast from the plate on the table, then added grape jelly from a strawberry shaped dispenser it seemed to Sue that Abby had had forever. “Good idea. We can bring him over here this afternoon."

  “We?” Accompanying him in Iowa had been fun and interesting. She'd even dared to hope he might ask her to go with him here once in a while. Maybe it had been worth the dare. She tried not to hold her breath while listening to his response.

  “That depends on your answer. Tim managed to talk his boss into letting a couple of lab boys dust Robert's office and scrape a few blood samples this morning. Said he felt lucky to get that much cooperation on a case his boss doesn't think is a case. Tim's going to meet me at the Delaney's house in thirty minutes. I was wondering if you'd like to come along?"

  “Will Dottie be there?” After hearing how deeply traumatized Dottie still was, she didn't think it would be a good place for Dottie—not yet, anyway.

  He shook his head, wiping his fingers on a paper napkin. “Not unless she's had a sudden change of heart. She hasn't been back but twice since Robert died. Even then she didn't go inside. Her mother gathered a few clothes and that was it.” He swallowed his coffee and placed the cup on the table. “If you want, we can go see her after we finish having a look-see at the house."

  She stopped her cup halfway to her lips. “What about Abby and the kids?"

  “Are they up?"

  “No, but has anyone come to make sure they'll be safe? I don't want to leave them alone, J.T., unless you're certain of their safety."

  “Did you really think I'd take any chances with any of you?” Jacob rose to his feet. “They won't be alone, Babe. Tim's got his off-duty partner, MacBean, watching the place right now. Abby knows about him being here, so she'll probably invite him in for breakfast.” He held out his hand to her. “He'll go with them any place they decide to go. And Abby promised to leave a note if they went out."

  Sue remembered Neil MacBean and how Tim trusted him. She took Jacob's offered hand, allowing him to help her to her feet. “I'm not dressed for anything but work,” she said, looking down at the colorful swirls in her cotton blouse and white knee-length shorts. “Are you going to let me work?"

  “Yep,” he said. “Why do you think I'm asking you along?"

  * * * *

  Juggling his briefcase and instant camera, Jacob had second thoughts when he opened the door and followed Sue and Tim into the Delaney's house. “Maybe you would rather not have anything to do with this,” he said. “I know Robert was your friend, too. I don't think much has been cleaned up in the den, and it might be too much for you."

  “J.T.'s probably right, Sue,” Tim added. “Suicide or murder, it won't be pleasant. Dottie wouldn't let anyone touch the house to clean it. Said nothing would get done until J.T. looked at everything. Also, the lab boys wouldn't have come if anything had been messed with.” He stopped in the foyer and placed the long, gray box he carried on the floor. “We're lucky she left the den windows open and had the air conditioner on."

  They had a point, and her tummy did feel hollow. But they had important things to do, and she didn't want to hold them back. Besides, after the excitement of watching the curly-headed man at the airport, she was curious to find out what Jacob and Tim were looking for and why. “How about you let me follow you around. If being in here starts bothering me, I'll just go outside and wait."

  Following didn't get her further than the den as Jacob sat her down at Dottie's small, antique desk, saying they would start with paperwork and let Tim wander around the place. The normally neat den had white powder on most of the flat surfaces, and some on bookcase edges. Two adjoining walls each had a desk in the middle surrounded by shelves of books. Dottie's was set up for letter writing, and the other held computer equipment. The third desk, where Robert had died, was in front of a row of windows. It was the largest, and she could see that the lab guys had cleaned and was thankful. She swallowed the lump in her throat—it was the largest, and the most dismal.

  “The lab people cleaned around the desk?"

  Jacob nodded. “They'll examine everything they vacuumed up and cleared away.” He could tell they'd only cleaned around Robert's desk area, but it was better than nothing. He hadn't looked forward to being in here either. Cleaned or not, he would stay away from that desk as much as he could.

  While Sue started on a stack of letters, Jacob hauled in a ladder-back chair from the dining room table, then opened the top drawer of Robert's filing cabinet. After lifting out a dozen frayed-around-the-edge folders, he sat at the desk in front of the computer, uncertain which to tackle first, computer disks, or hard copy. He decided on the paperwork.

  Leaning forward, he bumped the phone with his elbow. Since someone went to all the work of wiring my house, he thought, why not the Delaney's? He took the receiver and unscrewed the cream-colored mouthpiece. Sure enough, the same computer-chip type gadget was wedged inside. His first thought was to rip the thing out. His second was to turn on the computer and set the phone on Robert's external modem. He tapped in a few numbers and waited. The block on the screen read: Scanning field either off-line or malfunctioning. Abort? Retry? Hitting retry merely gave him the choice screen again, so he aborted. Then he ripped the chip out of the phone.

  “Where are you going, J.T.? And what is that thing?” Sue had watched him dismantle the phone after fooling around with it and the modem, and now he frowned with disappointment when the computer didn't do what he wanted it to.

  “I'm going to show this to Tim and have him scan this place. These are the same wiretapping devices I found in our house. I think that once I have them out of the phones, the others hidden around become useless. Our unfriendly eavesdropper will be out of business for a while—until he or she thinks of something else.” And, Jacob hoped, that something might mean the person would be forced to move in closer. Close enough for him to see.

  The questions heading his list were, who would go to so much trouble—and why? The agent and Robert were the answers that popped back at him. He glanced at the chip again as he left the den. It just didn't seem that any monetary rewards would be worth the expense of these gadgets, or the trouble. However, murder was a different story. Especially if someone worried that murder might get considered over suicide, and a case opened.

  * * * *

  Five minutes later he was back, giving her a thumbs-up sign. “Find anything in those letters?"

  She didn't think so. But wasn't at all certain what he meant by a find. “So far most of them are bills. Robert and Dottie seem to have kept their plastic-credit low and controlled and for necessa
ry-only spending.” Even though they had her permission, Sue refused to invade all of Dottie's privacy, and had stacked the mail with just her name on it to the side.

  Jacob nodded as he got comfortable at the desk. “Sounds like Robert. Always frugal, always diligent."

  After nearly an hour, and while Jacob continued to skim through files in the den, periodically taking pictures, Sue walked slowly around the room, stretching, getting the kinks out. Though minimal, there were still some caked blood stains on the carpet under Robert's desk, and she didn't want to go near them, or look at them. “Did you notice that can of paint in the corner, J.T.?"

  He glanced up. “No. This is the first time I've been in here since before he died."

  “Well,” she said, pointing at it in the corner nearest the doorway. “There's newspapers here by the door and they have paint droppings on them.” She touched the doorframe. “This framework has recently been painted. Do you think Robert was the one doing it?” She studied the wood. “I think someone brushed their shoulder against it, because there's light-blue fuzz stuck in the paint. Couple of long brunette hairs too."

  Jacob gave up on the file for the moment and joined her. He handed her his notebook and pen. “Write this stuff down,” he told her. “Anything you think is even the slightest bit amiss, write it down. We'll go over it later, then when we talk to Dottie, maybe she can help us out.”

  He examined the fuzz and hair in the paint, then retrieved the instant camera from the desk and snapped the shutter. “We'll want to ask Dottie who was doing the painting and when. Bonnie's a brunette.” But the Delaney's daughter Bonnie was a twelve-year-old athlete, and the Bonnie he knew wouldn't paint a wall voluntarily. Jacob turned to look at Sue, but she had moved across the room to the front of the big desk, kneeling, poking her finger into the carpet.