Live in Person

by Lynda Fitzgerald

  Sheryl looked as if she was on the verge of tears again, and Allie felt her eyes sting. “Come on,” she said, standing. “Let’s go walk Spook, and we’ll go tell Del.”

  ■ ■ ■

  She saw the envelope propped against her front door as soon as she neared the house, her name scrawled across the front.

  Sheryl walked up behind her. “Another present?”

  “God, I hope not.” Anger caused Allie to rip the envelope open without caution. Irritation followed close on its heels when she pulled out the sheets of paper and realized what she was holding—quotes from property developers on what she could get for the house, flyers from new condo developments in the area. Len had been here again.

  She jammed her key in the deadbolt. “That bastard. You grab Spook while I throw this trash away,” she said over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen.

  She was headed back to the living room when Sheryl said, “Allie?”

  Something in her voice was wrong. Allie hurried across the room.

  Sheryl was staring down the hall.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Sheryl held up one hand. “Stay there,” she said, moving slowly down the hallway.

  Allie did as she was told. That’s when she noticed the back door was ajar. “Someone’s been in here.”

  “Tell me about it.” Sheryl was headed back in her direction, already dialing her cell phone. She mumbled a few words and snapped the phone closed. She looked around. “Where’s Spook?”

  Only then, did Allie realize the significance of the open back door. But maybe… “Spook!” She looked behind the couch. No dog. She raced across the room toward the hallway. When she stepped into the hall, she froze.

  Blood. Bloody handprints and smears on the bathroom door. Then, she realized there was a trail of blood from the bathroom into the living room and the kitchen. Her stomach lurched. “Spook!” She started down the hall.

  Sheryl grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “Allie, stop. Stay out of there. It’s a crime scene.”

  Allie felt the floor sway under her feet. “Spook?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t open the bathroom door. We’ll have to wait until the techs get here.”

  She led Allie to the couch and pushed her down. “Stay here.”

  Allie was too stunned even to cry. Spook? Who would hurt Spook? Could Len do something like this? He didn’t like dogs, but would he…

  She shook her head. But if it wasn’t Spook, then who—

  She felt the room start to go dark and felt her head pushed between her knees.

  “Breathe,” Sheryl barked. “Take deep breaths.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Within minutes, Allie heard sirens screaming in the distance. Suddenly, the room was full of officers, a couple pulling on gloves as they headed toward the bathroom. She couldn’t cry; she couldn’t think. Only then, did she realize she still clutched the envelope from Len in her hand.

  No, he couldn’t have. No matter how desperate, Len couldn’t have done something like this. And if he had, would he have left a calling card on the front porch? Oh, God, had someone hurt Spook? She, the girl who’d never wanted the dog, who’d bought into all her mother told her about them being dirty and insect-ridden. She’d die if someone had hurt Spook. She’d kill whoever it was with her bare hands.

  Twelve

  Allie felt a presence at her elbow and looked up. Sheryl.

  “Spook’s not in the bathroom.”

  “Who then?”

  “No one. They don’t think it’s real blood. It looks like that crap you concoct out of corn syrup and food coloring.”

  Allie couldn’t get her head around it. “Then, why? And where’s Spook?”

  She heard a soft whimper coming from the hallway, jumped up, and headed in that direction. It was coming from her office. She eased the door open, terrified of what she’d find, and there he was, cowering against her desk.

  “Oh, Spook.” Allie dropped to the floor and pulled him into her arms. The strain of the last few hours overwhelmed her, and tears fell like a Florida cloudburst. She didn’t realize she was squeezing the puppy too hard until he yelped. She loosened her grip, but didn’t let go.

  She felt hands pulling her to her feet. “Come on, Allie. Let’s get you out of here and let the guys do their work.”

  She used the tissues Sheryl thrust into her hand to dry her eyes.

  “We’ll be at Lester’s if you need us,” Sheryl said over her shoulder as she hustled Allie out of the house. Apparently, their secret place wasn’t secret anymore.

  After giving Spook to Libby with only the briefest explanation for all the police cars, Sheryl ushered Allie into her CRV.

  “Won’t they have questions?” Allie asked as Sheryl put the car in gear.

  “Not many. I told them you’d been with me all day, filled them in on Len’s presents. They’ll lift some prints—if there are any. They can check for a match. I told them he threatened you.”

  “Not threatened… exactly. Besides, I can’t believe Len would do something like this. If that blood is fake, Len wouldn’t know how to make it. And how would he get in the house?”

  “Are you sure of that? Of any of it? Because I don’t think you’ve spent enough time around your brother to make that call.”

  “But why leave the envelope propped against the front door to draw attention that he’d been there?”

  “Could be a message for you. Here’s what I can do if you don’t sell and move.”

  Allie shook her head. “I still can’t see Len pulling a stunt like that.”

  Sheryl pulled into a space at Lester’s. “If not Len, then who?”

  They met each other’s gaze. “It’s exactly like something Sidney would do,” Allie said.

  “The sheriff’s convinced he’s not in the area.”

  “And you? Are you convinced?”

  Sheryl’s expression was her answer. “Jesus, I need a drink! Let’s go inside.”

  As she walked through the front door, Sheryl seemed to recall why they were there. During Allie’s crisis, it was as if nothing else was in her head. Now, Allie could see it all come rushing back—in her posture that sagged as if she’d aged in the space of a blink, in her step that slowed to the pace of a snail crossing quicksand.

  Del was behind the bar. When he saw Sheryl and Allie, his face brightened, but when he saw Sheryl look away, he seemed to regroup. He rolled his shoulders back as if gearing up for a physical blow. “Ladies,” he said, stepping over to them. He looked at Sheryl. “Long time no see.”

  Sheryl’s gaze swept the room, landing on nothing. “Well, you know. Work.”

  Del studied her expression. “Yeah. I know work. That the only problem here?”

  Sheryl blanched, and Del appeared to take a mental step backward. Allie could see the hurt on his face.

  “So, what brings you here today?”

  Sheryl looked at Allie, who said, “Starvation. Can we have two menus?”

  Del turned his back on them for a minute. Allie thought he was reaching for menus, but when he turned back, his hands were empty, and his face a thundercloud aimed directly at Allie. “I know I said I hadn’t seen her for a while, but that didn’t mean I wanted you to drag her here against her damn will. If she’s done with me, then she’s done with me. I’m not going to go begging her to come back—”

  “She didn’t drag me here.”

  Del ignored her. “So, if she doesn’t want to be here, why don’t you just—”

  Sheryl grabbed his waving hand. “Why don’t you talk to me?”

  “Because I don’t need any more grief,” he said, not meeting Sheryl’s eyes. “Look, I know how things go. You go at it hot and heavy for a while, and then it’s over. Goodbye. Don’t let the door hit you and all that.” He pulled his hand away and turned to leave.

  “I’m pregnant.” Sheryl blurted out.

  Del stood with his back to them for a long moment. Then, he slowly turned, his e
xpression unreadable. “What’d you say?”

  Sheryl squirmed on her barstool. “I said I’m pregnant. Listen, I’m not trying to make it your problem. You don’t owe me anything. I’m a big girl, and I got myself into this. I’ll handle it. I don’t need your help.”

  Del didn’t seem to hear a word she said. He pointed his finger at her, and then at himself, his face flushed. Sheryl nodded.

  For a moment, it was a frozen tableau. Then, Del swung his bar towel up in the air and shouted, “I’m going to be a daddy! Hey, everyone, I’m gonna be a papa!”

  All eyes were on them as Del jumped over the bar and grabbed Sheryl off her stool. “Jeez, honey, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just found out—”

  “I thought you couldn’t have kids.”

  “You said you didn’t want kids.”

  “I lied, honey. I mean, I didn’t want you to worry about it. I figured after we got married—”

  “Married!”

  “I figured we could adopt a half-dozen or so.” He pulled her to him and wrapped her tightly in his arms, burying his face in her hair. “My God, I thought you came here today to blow me off. I thought…” His voice trailed off.

  Sheryl wriggled out of his grip. “Wait just a minute, buddy. We never discussed marriage. What makes you think—?”

  “Hey, you’re having my baby.” He looked at Allie in appeal.

  “It’s her hormones,” Allie said, grinning. “Give her a few minutes to get used to the idea.”

  Del hesitated before sinking on one beefy knee. “Marry me, Sheryl. I love you. You have to marry me. You’re pregnant, for God’s sake.” He said the words with reverence.

  Sheryl scowled down at him, but then a smile played across her mouth. “Get up, you idiot,” she hissed. “Everyone’s watching.”

  “Not until you say yes.”

  “Get up,” she said again. “I’ll think about it.”

  Del jumped to his feet with the grace of a professional martial artist. “What do you mean, you’ll think about it?” He pointed to her belly. “That’s our baby growing in there, and he’ll need his father.”

  Sheryl looked bemused. “Maybe he—or she—will, some day, but right now, junior only needs me.” At Del’s crestfallen look, she seemed to relent. “I said I’d think about it.”

  Del pulled her back into his arms. “This is one time when I won’t take no for an answer. God, girl, my head is reeling. I knew we’d eventually get married, but I never thought I’d be a dad. This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Sheryl pulled away. “Yeah, that’s because you’re not barfing up your guts every day. Now, why don’t you be a good little daddy and get me some wings and a bloody Mary?”

  Del looked stunned. “You can’t drink alcohol. It could hurt the baby. And you need something healthier than chicken wings. I’ll fix you a hamburger with LT. No fries. They’re too fatty. Maybe a side salad…” He was still mumbling as he made his way around the bar and into the kitchen.

  Sheryl sat back down on her stool and looked at Allie. “I guess he’s OK with the idea of the baby.” Her eyes glistened, but the smile on her face told it all.

  “I think he is.”

  Sheryl shook her head. “I hope he’s not going to be like this the whole nine months. I mean, about the booze and eating healthy and shit.”

  Allie grinned. “I think he is,” she repeated.

  ■ ■ ■

  Sidney sat parked in the Hilton parking lot and struggled to take off his fake boobs, laying odds this joker would be more comfortable talking to a strange man in a bar than talking to a woman. He couldn’t get the hooks to open. Jesus, how did women deal with these things? He’d seen his mother reach behind her and have it undone in a flash, slip the straps down her arms still fully clothed, and be out of the goddamn contraption within seconds. It must be something women were born knowing.

  Finally, with a curse, he ripped his T-shirt over his head and took off the bra. Thank God, the hotel parking lot was deserted.

  Again dressed, this time as a guy with horn-rimmed glasses, he entered the hotel. He didn’t know who the guy at Allie Grainger’s house was or what he was doing here at the hotel—hell, he could be a courier, for all Sidney knew—but maybe he’d get lucky and stumble on to something. It was worth a try, and what the hell else did he have to do?

  He heard the clatter of dishes and muted conversations from the restaurant and headed in that direction with purpose. Lo and behold, his target was ensconced on a barstool with a beer in front of him, staring in the mirror as if it were a television. Sidney took a stool two seats away and ordered a draft, and then sat patiently waiting for his chance. He had no doubt one would present itself.

  The guy was halfway through his second beer when Sidney heard him mutter something.

  “Sorry?” Sidney said, turning to the guy. “Did you say something?”

  The guy looked surprised to find someone else at the bar with him. “Just talking to myself,” he said.

  Sidney nodded. “Work or women?”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “When a man starts talking to himself, it’s usually one or the other.” He turned on his stool and held out his hand. “Stan Falstaff,” he said and wondered where the name came from.

  The man shook his hand. “Len Grainger.”

  Sidney sat back. It was taking a chance, but it was the only way to find out. “Grainger? Any relation to Allie Grainger?”

  “You know her?”

  “Not well, but our paths have crossed.” He wondered just how close Allie and this brother were. “Do you live around here? I don’t remember seeing you before.”

  Len turned on his stool. “I’m visiting from Atlanta.”

  “Staying long?”

  The guy’s face shut down, maybe questioning the wisdom of talking to a stranger in a bar. “As long as my business keeps me here,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

  So, their bullshit session was over. Still, he’d just met Allie Grainger’s brother. He might be able to use that.

  “Good talking to you,” Sidney said, holding out his hand again. “Maybe I’ll see you around again.”

  “Same to you,” the guy said, dropping a twenty on his bar tab.

  Sidney sat back, nursing his brew. Well, waddaya know. He’d just introduced himself to Allie Grainger’s brother. He wasn’t sure what he could do with that, but he was equally sure something would come up.

  Thirteen

  The next morning, Allie sat on the living room sofa with Spook curled on her lap, her unread article notes beside her. The night had been uneventful—thank the powers that be—but she awoke thinking about her brother. The more she thought about it, the more this thing with Len bothered her. She knew greed was a natural human emotion, one they looked at first in murder cases, but she still couldn’t figure out why he was so intent on getting money from her. Why now? He hadn’t made that big a stink when her inheritance came through. Her mother made all the noise back then. Len blew it off with a “you always were her pet.” Was this escalation of his determination her mother’s doing? She knew they wanted her to sell—

  She heard a scraping at her front-door lock. Someone was trying to get into the house. To finish what they started? There was nowhere to go, except to run out the back. She could wave her arms, and the construction workers would see her. Before she had a second to react, the door flew open. Allie clutched her throat.

  “They didn’t find a damn thing,” Sheryl said, stomping in. “The blood was fake, just like I thought. No fingerprints.” She seemed to notice Allie’s expression for the first time. “What?”

  “You scared the hell out of me.” She let go of her death grip on Spook, who ran over to Sheryl, wiggling in excitement. The traitor. “Why didn’t you knock?”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you if you were working. What’s the big deal?”

  “Sidney’s on the loose, and you ask what’s the bi
g deal? What if that had been him? What could I have done?”

  Sheryl perched on the arm of a chair. “That’s something to think about. What would you have done?”

  Allie wasn’t ready to let it rest. “Knock next time. If I’m working, I’ll ignore you. Then, you can use the key and scare the hell out of me.”

  “All right, already. Give it a break. Next time I’ll knock. Probably.”

  Allie shot her a dirty look, but Sheryl had a valid question. “I was going to run out the back door and yell so the construction workers would see me.”

  Sheryl thought for a minute. “Not bad, but no defense against a gun. You’d never have made it that far.”

  “Comforting thought.”

  “Realistic.”

  “Don’t you think the construction workers would hear the shot and come running?”

  Sheryl made a scoffing sound. “Over all that noise? They’d probably think it was a backfire. And even if they recognized it as a gunshot, they couldn’t make the ground in time to catch him. Don’t forget. Sidney has nothing to lose. He couldn’t outrun them, but if he made it to his car, he’d be home free.”

  An even more depressing thought. “How is his leg? Is he fully mobile?” She and Sheryl had not once discussed Sidney since Sheryl rammed him with the police cruiser. Allie hadn’t pushed for information because she didn’t want to know anything about Sidney Finch. Now, she’d better learn as much as possible.

  “Depends on what you call fully.” She reached down and picked up Spook, who squirmed with pleasure. “Sheriff’s kept in touch with Polk. They say Sidney can walk, but with a pronounced limp. That’s more because of his foot than his leg. A lot of bones were crushed beyond repair. They say he’s usually in a lot of pain.”

  “Good.”

  “Damn straight. But I’ll bet that doesn’t improve his temper. He’ll be out gunning for you, and knowing Sidney, I mean that literally. He’s just playing with you now—”

  Playing. “If it’s Sidney who is playing these pranks.” She shuddered. The fake blood hadn’t felt like a prank.