Maddie Cochere - Two Sisters and a Journalist 01 - Murder Under Construction

by Maddie Cochere

  I stopped between the Irwin and Wyler houses and tucked myself in close to a rhododendron bush. I had the Buxley police department on speed dial. I said through chattering teeth, “This is Jo Ravens. I just killed a man.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The cul-de-sac was full of vehicles and people. No one on Clark Street was sleeping now.

  Keith came running around from behind my house and whooped, “I saw the dead guy when they put him in the ambulance.”

  Pepper was ready to throttle him. “You and Kelly go back over to the house. Now. You can sit on the front porch, but you have to quit getting underfoot here.”

  Kelly protested. “I wasn’t sneaking out back to look at the guy Aunt Jo killed. Why can’t I stay here? I don’t want to miss anything.”

  Officer Wheeler was walking toward us. Pepper admonished the kids again. “If you aren’t both over at our house in two minutes, there are going to be punishments, and they are going to involve Grandmama. Go!”

  Both kids folded their arms across their chests, stuck lower lips out, and stomped down the driveway.

  Glenn stood in front of me. “The ambulance is ten minutes out, Jo. Are you ok? I can run you to the hospital right now if you want. You don’t have to wait.”

  I was shivering under the blanket Pepper had thrown around my shoulders - partly from the shock of my encounter with Stewie, and partly from the ice pack against my hip.

  “I’ll wait,” I told him. I was doing ok for now and didn’t want to ride to the hospital in the back of a cruiser.

  Glenn was on duty and acting professionally, but there had been a time or two when he looked as though he wanted to say something personal to me. There had been a soft look in his eyes. The look reappeared now. “If I can get anything or do anything for you, let me know. I’m really sorry about the mix-up with the ambulance.”

  It was an effort to talk, so I nodded to let him know I understood. If I could string words together, I would tell him it wasn’t his fault.

  Glenn was first on the scene after my call. Dispatch told him where I was, so he was quick to find me. He tried to convince me to get up and sit in the cruiser, but I refused to leave my rhododendron refuge until I was certain Terry Cord was out of my house and under arrest.

  I was huddled up to the bush, aching and sore, worrying about bleeding to death, for nearly half an hour before Glenn came back for me. He reached a hand down, but I didn’t have the strength to pull myself up.

  “He stabbed me,” I said and held out my hand. His flashlight caught the blood on my hand and hip.

  Without saying a word, he reached down, slipped his arms around me, and pulled me to my feet. It felt nice to be close to him. A second later, he swept me up into his arms to carry me to my house. I was a little shocked he had lifted me - and a lot embarrassed about my weight.

  “Put me down. I can walk,” I protested.

  He ignored me and carried me as if I were light as a feather. I sat on the porch waiting for an ambulance.

  Jackie pulled in a few minutes later and ran over to wake Pepper. Pepper brought the blanket for me, while Jackie went into official reporter mode and started gathering information. She kept Pepper and me apprised of happenings. I was glad to hear her say Terry Cord was nearly to his car on the other side of the construction site when two officers in a cruiser spotted him. They found the folder with Paula’s incriminating evidence against Telcor under his shirt.

  Shortly after that bit of good news, she told us an ambulance had driven onto the construction site to take Stewie away. I asked her why they didn’t send a meat wagon and the coroner, Howard Sanders.

  “Because Stewart’s not dead,” she said.

  I was stunned to hear her say that. I was certain the noise before he went silent was a death rattle. Something deep inside me was secretly glad he lived. Justice would still be served, and I wouldn’t have to live knowing I had taken the life of another. He had no qualms about wanting to take my life, and he had taken Paula’s, but I didn’t want his death on my conscience.

  She also told me an officer was nailing plywood over the broken basement window behind the shrub at the back of my house. That explained how Terry entered the house so quickly. He must have broken it earlier when he cleaned out the murder room.

  Fatigue was setting in fast. The knife wound on my hip was a deep puncture wound, so it wasn’t bleeding excessively. If I had told Glenn I’d been stabbed when he first found me, I would be at the hospital already, but the first ambulance took Stewie and left. Not that I would have ridden with him anyway.

  A car parked down the street. A man exited and ran toward the house. I thought it might be Sergeant Rorski. He had been conspicuously absent throughout the entire ordeal. I almost laughed when I saw it was Doug Preston. Talk about late to the party.

  He was unkempt, and I was sure a plaid pajama top was sticking out of his pants. He held a notebook in one hand, a pen in the other. He seemed overly excited. “What’s going on here, Jo? Why haven’t you called me so I could interview you about the dead girl? Give me the 411 quick. Did you kill someone here tonight?”

  Jackie stepped out onto the porch and told him, “It’s pretty much all over now, Doug, and I’ve already called in most of the details. You can read about it in the morning edition.”

  His frustration was apparent. He turned and stomped down the driveway, not unlike Keith and Kelly earlier. Halfway down, he threw his hands in the air and yelled, “It was supposed to be my exclusive, Jackie.”

  Pepper sat down beside me and put her arm around my shoulders. “You did a good job on this, Jo. You didn’t quite have it all figured out, but you caused enough ruckus to get to the truth - even if you did get to it the hard way. You’re going to make a good investigator.”

  I gave both girls an appreciative smile. “As long as I have a sister and a journalist by my side, I think I’ll make a great P.I.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Mama clinked glasses and clanged plates with gusto in my kitchen. I appreciated that she wanted to wash up the dishes from lunch, but I would have preferred that she simply load them into the dishwasher. She was a pro at chipping dinnerware.

  “Can we do anything else for you before we leave?” Pepper asked.

  I shook my head. I was managing without too much difficulty. A pillow between my knees, and one behind my hip, gave me the most comfort as I stretched out on the sofa. Painkillers were helping, too.

  Pepper fussed anyway and made sure magazines and the television remote were within reach. She refilled my glass with lemonade and placed the red phone on the floor next to the sofa. “I’ll call you later,” she said.

  Keith gave me a hug and set the shadowbox he made for me in the center of the coffee table. Both kids had brought homemade gifts to cheer me. Pepper said she was marking the projects down as art class toward their homeschooling. I didn’t mean to laugh when she said it, but I still couldn’t see her going all in and schooling them.

  They left with a promise to check in on me later.

  Mama was finished in the kitchen. “I’m leaving, too, Jo,” she said. “It’s Monday Madness Bingo at the church today, and I’m meeting your Aunt Bee.”

  “Ok. Thanks for bringing lunch. It was good.” Her tuna noodle casserole was the recipe from her old Betty Crocker cookbook. I loved the casserole as a child, and I loved it now.

  She stood by the door, but she didn’t leave right away. I knew there was something coming I didn’t want to hear.

  “I know you want to be a dick,” she said.

  “It’s a private investigator, Mama. A private eye.”

  She ignored me. “I think this incident last night should show you this isn’t the job for you. You weren’t strong enough to fight that guy off, and he almost killed you.”

  “But he didn’t kill me,” I said as a start to my defense. “And you don’t have to be -”

  She cut me off. “No, he didn’t kill you, but this isn’t work for a girl. This is a man�
��s job, and you need to get this silly idea out of your head. This won’t end well if you do this.”

  My voice went up a couple of octaves. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. This is the third murder I’ve helped solve. I can be good at this.”

  She half closed her eyes and held her hand up in a stop motion. “I just want you to know how I feel about it. Someday I’ll be saying I told you so - if you’re alive to hear it.”

  I knew there was no use arguing with her. She didn’t understand how I felt about investigating, and I wasn’t going to try to convince her.

  “I’ll stop back tomorrow to see how you’re doing,” she said before walking out the door.

  I hated arguing with Mama. We rarely saw eye to eye on anything - politics, religion, and even simple things like who should win American Idol.

  The house was quiet now. I was tired and wanted to take a nap, but I needed to use the bathroom first. The doctor didn’t want me to walk any more than necessary for a few days, but this was necessary.

  I hobbled into the half bath off the kitchen. This was the hard part – sitting on the toilet seat with only one good buttock.

  No one was around, and because I knew it would feel good to say them, I interspersed swear words between short cries of “ouch, ouch.”

  I reached for the toilet paper on the holder opposite the toilet and caught a movement in the kitchen out of the corner of my eye.

  I threw my hands over my face and screamed.

  I wanted to die. Absolutely die right there. I reached a hand out to the bathroom door and gave it a shove. It slammed with a loud bang.

  It took a couple of minutes, but I finished my business and made sure my bandages were secure. I examined myself in the mirror. Had I even brushed my hair today? I rummaged in the drawer and found an old comb of Alan’s. I raked it through the tangles. I washed my face and used a mostly dried-out mascara from the back of the drawer. My cheeks and lips were on their own. At least my t-shirt was clean and my sweatpants didn’t have holes.

  I gritted my teeth, opened the door, and shuffled in my orange fuzzy slippers through the kitchen. I rounded the corner to the living room, half hoping he would be gone.

  Glenn jumped to his feet. He was holding a pretty bouquet of flowers. It reminded me of the bouquets in the cooler at the grocery store.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I talked with Pepper, and she said the door was open, and I should walk right in.” He laid the flowers on the table and gave me a hand with my pillows as I settled into my reclining position again.

  I managed a smile and simply said, “It’s ok.”

  He picked up the flowers. “I hope you like daisies. Do you have a vase?”

  “There’s one on the top shelf of the cupboard to the left of the sink.”

  On his way to the kitchen, he called over his shoulder, “That was a great write up in the paper today, don’t you think?”

  I grabbed The Buxley Beacon from the coffee table. The entire front page was devoted to the story. Jackie had done a wonderful job of spelling out the details of Paula’s murder and the downfall of Terry Cord. She made it clear Ruby Rosewell, a.k.a. Paula Charlotte Radford, had never been a prostitute. She was simply a girl who loved to dance. I especially liked the part where she referred to me as Investigator Jo Ravens. I don’t know how she got away with that.

  “She did,” I said. “Jackie’s a good writer. She’s working on a novel. I expect she’ll be famous one day.”

  Glenn slid Keith’s shadowbox over and set the vase of flowers in the middle of the table. “If you keep solving murders, you’ll be famous one day, too.”

  I laughed. “I’m a regular Clouseau, aren’t I?”

  We made some small talk, but my eyes drooped, and I had a hard time stifling yawns.

  “Go ahead and take a nap,” Glenn said. “I’ll sit with you for a while, and then I’ll let myself out.”

  I nodded and shoved my hand under my chin so my mouth would stay shut. I hoped it would keep me from snoring. I was asleep within minutes.

  Short dreams came and went. They were pleasant. They were like my dreams of old – fun and colorful. In one, I strolled through a field of beautiful flowers and saw people slow dancing in the distance. Some had partners, others made round, sweeping moves by themselves. It was lovely to watch. One girl in a tangerine dress stood out. I knew even before I saw her face it was Paula. She twirled and looked in my direction. Her face beamed with happiness. She waved, and I knew she was waving goodbye. I wanted to talk to her, and I started to run through the flowers.

  The red phone jangled my dream into oblivion.

  My usual state of confusion surrounded me when I was startled awake. Glenn had fallen asleep in the comfy overstuffed chair, and he appeared momentarily confused as well.

  I grabbed the handset and mumbled, “Two setters and a cellist.”

  Jackie burst into laughter. “How many pain pills have you taken?”

  “All of them,” I said before quickly adding, “Not really. I was napping. Glenn’s here. I guess he was napping, too.”

  “Really?” Her voice had a devilish edge to it. “Glenn is there, and the two of you are napping? Very nice.”

  “It’s not like that. He stopped by to bring flowers and see how I was feeling. I simply couldn’t stay awake. He -”

  She interrupted with a laugh, “I’m just teasing you. Are you up for visitors today?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’m stuck on the sofa for a few days, so drop in any time.”

  “I’ll be by after dinner,” she said.

  I hung up the phone.

  “What time is it?” I asked Glenn.

  “Three thirty,” he said. “Sorry about dropping off there. It was a late night for all of us.”

  I smiled, but didn’t know what to say. I thought he would be gone by now.

  “You’re going to need some dinner soon,” he said. “How about if I grab some Chinese takeout for you? You can eat it right out of the container when you’re hungry.”

  I appreciated his concern. “That’s sounds great.”

  We sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before he asked, “Can I call you, Jo?”

  I knew what he meant, but I blurted out, “You can call me anything you want, but don’t call me late for dinner.”

  He chuckled. I shook my head, threw my palms up and said, “I’m sorry.” I was sure he thought I was an idiot.

  “I’d like to ask you out,” he said and then added few seconds later, “when you’re feeling better and can get around.”

  I was uncertain. “I don’t know. It seems kind of weird in a way.”

  “Why? Because you used to babysit me? That was a long time ago. We’re both adults now. I’m twenty-eight, and you’ll forever be twenty-nine, so I’ll catch up with you next year.”

  The look on his face was endearing, and I couldn’t help laughing. I started to tick off the pros and cons of dating him in my mind. The age difference bugged me, but I would probably get over it. I originally thought he was a twit, but now he made my heart flutter when I saw him. He was normal. At least I assumed he was normal and wouldn’t try to kill me. My family would love him. He was a hometown boy and a police officer. Ooh, that could come in handy when I started my own investigation business.

  I flashed a smile his way and said, “You can call me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The General Tso’s chicken Glenn had dropped off hit the spot. I limped to the kitchen with the empty container to throw it away. After a quick trip to the bathroom, where I shut and locked the door and did more swearing under my breath, I hobbled back to the living room. I was surprised to see Jackie and Big Arnie standing inside the front door.

  Jackie appeared slightly embarrassed. “Pepper said to walk right in.” She turned to Big Arnie and said, “Arnie, this is Jo Ravens.”

  I limped over to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Arnie, I had no idea I’d be seeing you so soon.”

&
nbsp; He grasped my hand in a firm grip and pumped it several times. His voice was as raspy as Mama’s, but infinitely deeper, as he said, “When Jackie told me you wanted to learn the ropes about being a P. I., I figured the sooner we get started, the better.”

  I repositioned myself on the sofa while they settled into chairs.

  Arnie appeared to be looking me over. “You took a shiv in the ass, did ya?” he asked.

  It never occurred to me Arnie might be coarser than I was used to. Mama was like Bertie. They were both crass and enjoyed toilet humor. Arnie would probably be more gritty and down-to-earth crusty. I’d probably have a harder time controlling my swearing if I spent time with him.

  I replied, “I was stabbed with a large knife in my left buttock.”

  Jackie tried to contain a laugh but ended up letting out one loud snort.

  “I saved some information for you, Jo,” she said. “I couldn’t put it in the article, but we know how Stewart killed Paula. He murdered her in her apartment. Terry called her from Mexico but told her he had come back early and was coming over for an early-morning quickie. Paula was naked in her bed when Stewie slipped into the apartment and killed her. After he dumped her body, he cleaned her bedroom and made the bed with fresh sheets and blankets. The police found the bloody bedding in a garbage bag in his trunk. He was still driving around with it.”

  My mouth fell open. “I was on a date with Stewie, and evidence to Paula’s murder was in the trunk?”

  She nodded and flashed a creepy smile at the same time.

  “They always get caught,” Big Arnie said. “That wise guy thought he took care of everything when he cleaned the bed, but he was biding his time getting rid of the evidence. It comes back to bite ya in the ass every time.” He looked over at me. “Speaking of ass. I’ve been investigating crimes for over thirty years,” he said. “I’ve never been shot or stabbed. Are you sure you want to do this?”