Keith handed the blanket to me. I wrapped myself in it, but the shaking continued.
“What’s a murder room?” he asked. His eyes were wide. “Was someone murdered in your house?”
Pepper was trying to be the calm one, but anxiety was apparent in her voice. “No one was murdered in Aunt Jo’s house. It’s a room where she writes things down when she tries to figure stuff out.”
Kelly squished herself up against Keith on the sofa. It was obvious she was frightened, too. “What if our windows are open upstairs?” she asked. “What if someone is in our house and is going to murder us?”
Pepper clenched her fists by her side. “No one is in the house. No one is going to murder us. Knock it off.”
I felt sorry for the kids. I knew what it was like to be young and afraid.
A loud bang sounded at the front door, and we all jumped at the same time. Kelly stifled a scream. Pepper slowly moved toward the door and yelled, “Who is it?”
“Officer Wheeler.”
She opened the door, and I heard Officer Twit ask, “Have you seen Jo?”
She stood back and pointed in my direction.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “I just left here twenty minutes ago. I decided to double back before heading downtown, and I found your front door wide open with no one inside.”
Through semi-chattering teeth, I told him, “I did what you said. I checked all the windows and doors to be sure they were locked. When I checked the room above the garage, the window was open. I never open my windows, so I was afraid someone was in the house. I ran out and came over here.”
He called for backup, and fifteen minutes later, he and two more officers were searching every nook and cranny of my house for an intruder.
What if someone had been in my house all evening, hiding in the basement or in an upstairs closet? It all seemed much more Hitchcockian and frightening by candlelight.
Pepper handed another flashlight to the kids. “Go get ready for bed. You can sleep in my room tonight. Jo, you can stay here with us.”
“Is there enough room in your bed for all four of us?” I asked.
Kelly giggled at the idea, but Keith said enthusiastically, “Sure there is.”
I smiled and said, “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“You can sleep in my bed, Aunt Jo,” Kelly offered.
“No. If Pepper doesn’t mind, I’d rather sleep down here.”
It was nearly an hour before Officer Wheeler came back. “We didn’t find anyone in your house, and there’s no sign anyone was in there. You must have left the window open.”
I shook my head vehemently. “No. I told you, I never open my windows.” The minute I said it, I remembered opening that very window and sticking my head out to look at the construction site to see where Ruby had lain. But that was the only time I had ever opened it, and I remember closing it right away. “It might not have been locked,” I said, “but it was definitely closed.”
“We locked the window, so everything’s ok over there now.” He didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he said, “Jo, can I talk with you privately for a minute?”
“I’ll go check on the kids,” Pepper said heading for the stairs.
Officer Wheeler sat down opposite me. “You’re going to have to come down to the station.”
“Why? Do I have to fill out a report?”
“No, but I have to tell Sergeant Rorski what I found inside your house.”
What was he talking about? I put my palms up and shook my head. I didn’t have a clue.
“The room above the garage. It looks pretty creepy in there, Jo.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “You had me scared there for a minute. That’s my murder room. It’s what I know about Ruby Rosewell’s murder. I’m trying to put the pieces together and find out why she was murdered, since you guys aren’t doing it.”
He reviewed his notes in a small notebook and said, “But you have information no one else has. Who’s Charlotte? Who’s Paula Radford? Who’s Margie, and how is she going to help you? And what is this about dream information?”
I was too tired to discuss it. “It’s complicated,” I said. “I’ll come down on Monday and talk to Sergeant Rorski. Tell him I’ll be in then.”
He stood to leave.
“Officer Wheeler,” I said stopping him. “I’m staying here with Pepper tonight. There’s a key in a fake rock to the right of the front door. Would you mind locking my door, so I don’t have to go back over there? I’m still kind of freaked out.”
He smiled and said, “Sure.” He paused and studied me more closely than was comfortable. “You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head no.
“I’m Glenn. Glenn Wheeler. You used to babysit me.”
This was Glenn Wheeler? Little booger eater, Glenny Wheeler? I almost burst out laughing.
His face lit up. “You were sixteen, and I thought you were the prettiest girl ever. I hated that I was eleven years old and my mom made me have a babysitter, but I was never mad when you showed up. You were always nice to me and played video games with me. Do you remember taking me down to the ice cream stand even though Mom said no sweets?”
It was all coming back to me now. He was fun to babysit, but I remembered him as a scrawny, towheaded kid. He had grown into a well-built, good-looking man with darker blonde, almost brown, hair. And in all fairness to him, I never actually saw him eat a booger, I only assumed he did by the way he positioned himself when he tried to sneak to pick his nose. All things considered, I decided this was a memory I would keep to myself.
“Little Glenny,” I said. “We did have fun, didn’t we? Who knew you would grow up to be a policeman? I had no idea it was you.”
His smile was broad as he said, “I’ll be right back.” A few minutes later, he handed the house key to me. “If someone’s trying to get into your house, you don’t need a key outside.”
I nodded and reached out to take the key. Our fingers touched for a moment, and there was a slight flutter in my stomach. His smile was charming. A natural charming - not forced. I was flustered but thanked him for his help and closed the door.
Little Glenny, huh? Officer Twit might not be such a twit after all.
~ ~ ~
Tea with Paula was lovely. The Earl Grey was delicious, and the scones were divine. We chatted about the weather, fashions, and men. Terrence treated her like a queen, and she was going to name the baby after him. They were in love and planning to be married. I was all atwitter about being reunited with Little Glenny. We, too, were in love and planned to marry, but “I’m not pregnant, you whore.”
Why did I say that? Why would I call Paula a whore? I was instantly afraid and knew something terrible was going to happen. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stood from her dainty, embroidered chair. It was as though she were ten feet tall. A large knife materialized in her hand, and I knew she was going to kill me. I tried to stand, but she shoved me to the ground. As the knife came down, I instinctively rolled. Rather than plunging into my chest, the knife blade disappeared into the fat chunk that was my love handle. Paula leaned down and put her nose nearly to mine before saying, “Pull it out quick and use it.”
My eyes flew open. I was discombobulated and my heart was palpitating. Where was I?
It only took a moment to realize I was at Pepper’s house and why. The television was on in the kitchen, so I knew the power had been restored. A snicker caught my attention, and I saw Keith watching me from a chair. He had his hand over his mouth as he struggled not to laugh.
“What? What’s so funny?” I asked groggily.
He let out a boisterous laugh. “You were dreaming.” He rolled his eyes and swooned. “You were all dreamy and saying Glenny, Glenny, Glenny, and then you were mean and saying whore, whore, whore.” He doubled over with laughter and rolled onto the floor.
Pepper came into the room. “Go on. Get out of here and leave your Aunt Jo alone
.” She handed a cup of coffee to me. “Are you all right?”
I was miserable, but I said, “I’m ok. Just another bad dream about Ruby. I insulted her, and she stabbed me with a knife. I am sooo done with these dreams. We need to figure this out soon, so she can move on and out of my head.”
“Jackie called looking for you. She said she’ll pick you up at your house at ten. It’s eight thirty now.”
“Come with us,” I said. “You know you want to.”
“I can’t. I have to do the grocery shopping, and I have a ton of laundry piled up. Besides, I don’t think Mama can watch the kids. She’ll be at a bingo tournament today.”
“What’s Hank doing? Can they go over to his place?”
“I talked to him on Thursday. He said he had a birthday party scheduled for this weekend.”
“That’s perfect,” I said. “He can take the kids with him. They know how to help him with his equipment, and they’ll get cake.”
Our brother owned a photography studio. He specialized in weddings, but he booked a fair number of kid’s birthday parties, too. When he didn’t have a photography gig, he worked nights as a bouncer at Parker’s Tavern, a reputable bar in a shopping plaza on Main Street. Pepper’s kids never tagged along when he worked at the tavern, but they loved helping Uncle Hank when he had weddings or parties to photograph.
“I’ll call him,” Pepper said. “If he can take the kids, I’ll go with you.”
~ ~ ~
Jackie was an aggressive driver. At the moment, she had her hand out the window, middle finger extended, and was waving it wildly at the trucker in front of her who had just cut her off.
“Who?” she asked. “Glenn Wheeler? Of course I know him. He’s the new hottie on the police force. He was working over in Patterson, but his grandfather died recently and left his house to him, so he moved back into town. Why?”
“No reason,” I said. “He answered my prowler call last night, and I was surprised to find out it was him. He was one of the last kids I ever babysat.
Jackie made eye contact with me in the rear-view mirror and said, “For what it’s worth, he’s single. You interested?”
I wasn’t a blusher, but I felt a hot flush rush into my face. “No. Oh, heavens no. He’s five or six years younger than I am. I’m not a cougar.”
Pepper piped up, “Don’t let her fool you. Officer Wheeler was making eyes at her, and she was looking him over, too. And she was saying his name in her sleep.”
Jackie was intrigued. “You were dreaming about him? I don’t know, Jo. Sounds like there’s something there.”
I ignored their teasing and said, “I wasn’t dreaming about him. I was dreaming about Ruby, and she stabbed me. What do you think that means?”
Jackie’s smile turned to a frown. “She stabbed you?”
“It was disturbing,” I said. “There’s usually something I can take away from a dream about her, but there was nothing in this one. She stabbed me and told me to pull the knife out and use it.”
“That’s creepy,” Jackie said.
“That wasn’t the whole dream,” Pepper said. “You said you insulted her, and Keith said you were saying whore over and over again.”
Jackie snorted in her attempt to stifle a laugh.
“Ruby and I were having a fancy schmancy tea party with scones. We were all snobby like with our noses in the air and our pinkie fingers sticking out, and we were chatting about girl stuff. She said she was going to marry Terrence and name the baby …” My voice trailed off. I grabbed my purse.
“Name the baby what?” Jackie asked.
I yanked the Marietta paper out of my purse. “Terrence is the formal name for Terry, right?” I opened the paper and rapidly scanned for the article about the mayor.
“What are you doing? What is that?” Pepper asked.
“I found this paper at the cemetery in Marietta. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t see any obvious clues in it. I thought it might end up being nothing more than trash, but there’s an article about a Terry in here. Listen.” I read aloud from the paper. “Businessman Terry L. Cord has thrown his hat into the ring as a candidate for mayor. Cord said he is running because he wants to improve the community by bringing people closer together, promoting businesses, and highlighting the city’s historic assets. Cord is married with two adult children. His investment company has a long history with bankers, developers, and contractors in the city.”
“What does that have to do with Ruby?” Pepper asked.
Jackie was quick to answer. “Terry Cord is married. If he was the father of Ruby’s baby, he couldn’t run for mayor with a pregnant mistress or prostitute in the picture.”
Pepper’s eyes widened. “So he must have killed her. We should call the police right away.”
Jackie waved her hand dismissively. “We can’t call anyone. Everything we think we know so far is because of Jo’s dreams. We can’t accuse this poor man of murder simply because Jo dreamed the name Terrence.”
She was right, of course, but I said, “Officer Wheeler … Glenn … was freaked out by my murder room. I have to go to the station on Monday and tell Sergeant Rorski what I’ve found out so far.”
“Oh that’ll be fun,” Jackie said dryly. “He’ll have a heart attack for sure.”
A second later, she was giving me a heart attack as she shot across two lanes of heavy traffic to fly down an off-ramp. I grabbed the handle above the door, hung on for dear life, and screeched, “What the fudge nuggets, Jackie! You’re going to get us killed.”
Conversation lapsed as we made our way north of the city to Treehorn Lake. The hills, sweeping turns, and twisty sections of the road kept Jackie from driving like a maniac. Most people didn’t realize it, but this part of Ohio was in the Appalachian foothills. Southeastern Ohio wasn’t flat like the western part of the state.
It was a gorgeous day for a drive. I stared out the window and thought about the events of the night before. I was mad I had allowed myself to become so frightened. How was I going to be a private investigator if every little thing scared me? I should have grabbed something to use as a weapon and searched for an intruder on my own. In the light of day, it even seemed absurd that I had stayed overnight at Pepper’s house.
We passed a sign indicating we were one mile from the lake. Once again, I had a feeling of anticipation. A good feeling. Being able to talk with someone who knew Ruby might give us a lot of answers, and I could feel it in my bones that we were close to solving her murder. I was going to make a good private investigator, and I knew this was something I wanted to do for the rest of my life. It was never too late to change careers. I recently read that Colonel Sanders was sixty-six when he built his chicken empire.
“Jackie, I’m not interested in going to college for four years to be a private investigator. I need someone to mentor me for a couple of years. Any ideas?”
She didn’t hesitate to answer. “I know the perfect guy. He’s been a P.I. for over thirty years, and he’s retiring in three, so this is a good time to hook up with him.”
“Who is it?”
“Arnold Baranski.”
“Arnie? Big Arnie? The drunk who sits down at Parker’s Tavern drinking whiskey all day? Hank says he’s there from the time the bar opens until it closes.”
“He’s not a drunk. The tavern is his unofficial office. An arsonist torched his place a few years ago. He’s still one of the best private investigators around. He helped with that big ecstasy drug ring bust last year. If you can get him to show you the ropes, it’ll be worth more than any school can teach you.”
She turned onto Lakeview Road, and we were soon pulling into the driveway of a stunning A-frame with beautiful landscaping.
“Let me do the talking,” I said.
Jackie shook her head, “No, let me do the talking. I’ll show my credentials from the paper. We’ll look official.”
Pepper agreed with Jackie. “The last thing we need is someone calling the cops on us.”
I bristled. This was going to be my business, so I should be the one in charge to ask the questions. But I knew Jackie was right. If we were going to get any information from Carol, we couldn’t look like three busybody women with nothing better to do than snoop around in something that was none of our business.
Jackie slipped her lanyard around her neck and knocked on the door. There was no answer. It never occurred to me that Carol might not be home. Jackie knocked again. No answer.
Pepper turned around to head back to the car. “No one’s home. Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Let’s see if they’re around back by the lake.”
“I’m not trespassing,” Pepper said. “I’ll wait here.” She walked over to sit down on the front steps.
Trees shaded most of the back yard. The ground was still wet from the storm last night. Jackie went to knock on the sliding glass doors while I walked down the yard toward the lake. There was a path, but I assumed it was muddy, so I made my way on the grass. A rowboat was tied to the dock. There wasn’t anyone on the water. I turned around and saw Jackie coming down the path toward me.
“It’s kind of muddy. Be -”
Before I could tell her to be careful, her feet flew out from under her, and she landed on her butt.
The string of swear words that came out of her mouth would have made a trucker proud. I tried not to laugh while I scolded her, “Jackie, someone will hear you.”
“I don’t care who hears me,” she snapped, but she ended her swearing streak with, “horse manure!”
I nearly collapsed with laughter.
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked. “I’m soaked clear through, and I’m not sitting in my car with muddy shorts.”
“Do you have a blanket in the trunk?”
“No.”
“Go get in the lake.”
She was incredulous. “Are you crazy?”
“No. Go get in the lake and wash the mud off. It’s a hot day. You’ll dry in no time.”
She gave the suggestion some thought. We walked to the edge of the yard and peered into the water. It wasn’t as clear as I thought it would be, probably because of the hard rain, but it would still wash off the mud.
Maddie Cochere - Two Sisters and a Journalist 01 - Murder Under Construction Page 11
