Freezer Burn: A Maggie Mercer Mystery

by Jill Behe

  I blinked. “What? Redbone, as in Cletus’s ancient lazy lump of dog-flesh?”

  Wyatt laughed so hard he almost fell over. “Not so lazy as everybody thought, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Apparently. How…?” Huh. “How do they know he’s the one responsible? And who’s the lucky lady?”

  Ricky cackled like a man insane. “Cletus caught ’em still hooked up. Never saw that man blush before. Shoot. Never heard him talk that fast, either. Hands flying everywhere.” He stopped to hoot again. “He can’t believe it.”

  “He’s not the only one. Whose dog, the female?”

  Wyatt snorted. “The Nash’s.”

  A jaw dropper, for sure. “Oh, dear Lord. Pansy’s white prima donna poodle? Those poor pups.”

  Another fit of mirth from the men.

  I didn’t think it was that funny. It was comical, sure, but….

  Ricky wiped his eyes. “Cletus says they’re gonna be bloodles. Get it? Bloodhound and poodle. Bloodles.”

  I groaned. “That is bad in so very many ways. How’s Pansy taking the news?”

  Wyatt cleared his throat. “As any owner of a purebred does when faced with an … unplanned pregnancy.”

  “Oh, geez.” Would the puns never stop?

  “Cletus is paying all the Vet bills, to include getting the little mama fixed afterwards. Pansy couldn’t be mad at him since it was her dog that trespassed on his property. But I’ll tell you what, that pint-sized woman was steamed at her, er, promiscuous pet.”

  He chortled, again.

  Ricky was holding his stomach.

  I rubbed my hands over my face.

  Had I just, not five minutes before, claimed they were two of my favorite men?

  What was I thinking?

  Adult boys. Their bodies grew, but their minds? No. Not even a little.

  I sighed.

  “Aw, come on, Maggie. It’s hilarious.”

  I smiled at my proxy-son. “It is, yes. But my perspective is different than yours.”

  “Huh?”

  “How old is Redbone?”

  He looked at Wyatt and shrugged. “I don’t know, 15 maybe?”

  I nodded. “And in all his life, have there ever been reports of his … propagation?”

  “Propagation?”

  I waited.

  “Uh. No, not that I ever heard.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Wait for it. I’ve never known any male dog, ever, who let the opportunity of a female in heat pass if he had a snowball’s chance to catch her. And Redbone, almost always, has free run of Cletus’s property. How did we not hear about any progeny?”

  Wyatt folded his arms. “Huh. Good point.”

  “That wasn’t the point.”

  “Oh?”

  “The one I’m trying to make is: Just because they mated, doesn’t mean there’ll be puppies. Maybe he’s sterile. If he didn’t spread himself around, gene-wise, when he was in his prime, why would he start when he’s past it?” I frowned, thinking about what I’d said. Do dogs get too old to mate, like humans—well, normal humans? “Let me amend that. I would assume it’s possible, at his age, to still make pups, but….”

  “Indeed.”

  Ricky gave me a narrow look. “Party pooper.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sorry.”

  “She’s right, Rick. I’ve never heard of any Redbone look-a-likes.”

  “Well then, somebody ought to go tell Miz Nash there might not be anything to make a fuss about.”

  “Never thought about a dog being sterile.”

  “I don’t know that it’s possible, either. And he may not be. I’m just saying, it seems strange that no one ever mentioned a litter of part hound pups before.”

  There was a sudden commotion at the front door, and three small bodies hurled themselves into the middle of the room.

  “Chief Madison!” In unison. In triplicate.

  CHAPTER 30

  NABBED

  WYATT TURNED.

  “Ya gotta come quick!”

  He grabbed an insulated sleeve as one of them skidded past. “Whoa. What’s the rush?”

  “It’s Miz McIntyre!”

  We all came to attention.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She needs your help, Chief!”

  “Yours too, Officer Anderson.”

  “Me? Really?”

  Without further hesitation, my two associates re-donned their coats. Ricky was the first one out.

  “Let’s go.” Wyatt shooed the boys ahead of him. “You can tell us about it on the way.” He gave me an I’m sorry shrug as he pulled the door shut.

  I stood at my desk, hands on hips. “Well, honestly.”

  It didn’t upset me. Wyatt would fill me in when they got back. Besides, there wasn’t much I could do about it, not being a full-fledged officer. I just hoped my friend wasn’t hurt too badly.

  Half an hour later….

  The door banged back and hit the wall—somebody was going to have to fix that. Then I heard a string of curses, and a man in handcuffs was propelled into the room, followed by my cohorts.

  “That old dingbat’s crazy. I’m gonna sue her ass off.”

  “Yeah? For what?” Ricky shoved the large, muddy, bald man ahead of him, aiming for the holding cell in our special room, back behind the filing cabinets.

  Well, well. Luther Hornsby. Twice as mean and ornery (some folks call it being contrary) as his father, and ‘Old man’ Hornsby had been as mean as a cottonmouth in breeding season, for most of his life. The son is a mentally challenged—though not severely—massive, strong, obstinate, thick-headed, stubborn, mule-headed human being.

  Yes, I know a few of those words are redundant.

  Sometimes I wonder about his level of deficiency. You know, whether it’s real or faked? There are times he seems to realize he can use that disability factor to his advantage.

  Could be what happened in the toxic dumping incident. I mentioned it the other day when Blake, Luke, and Josh stopped by to see me.

  To go into a little more detail about it:

  Turns out a couple of Luther’s buddies worked at an auto body shop two towns over, and didn’t want to pay for disposing of the oil, and other fluids, that accumulated in their daily car repairs. Convincing Luther to do anything is hard, but his pals, obviously, were able to con him into guarding their secret, and Luther, once his mind is set, doesn’t deviate.

  The task force Wyatt set up was successful, but Luther hadn’t been there when it all went down. The men Wyatt hauled in confessed, but said Luther never knew when they were going to be dumping. He was just their lookout, and was only supposed to keep an eye open for anybody walking up on the mess they’d made.

  The judge was not lenient on those two, but their supposed slow-witted friend got off relatively easy. Because of his diminished role and mental capacity, and the fact that it was his first offense—surprisingly—Luther was given a nine month sentence, and two years’ probation.

  In my opinion, the judge let Luther off lightly because, one, he wasn’t directly involved in the actual release of toxic substances, and two, Luther played his confused I-don’t-understand card. But as I said, that’s just my opinion.

  “She assaulted me.”

  “What did you expect? You wiped out her mailbox.”

  “That’s different.”

  “She was protecting her property.” Ricky prodded him again with his elbow. “From this observer’s point of view, it looked pretty evened up to me.”

  “What’re you tryin t’ say?”

  “Shut up.”

  The two of them disappeared behind a wall cabinet.

  I heard a cage door clang shut, and the behemoth bellowed. “You can’t keep me in here!”

  “Then don’t get comfortable. The county’s sending a VIP car for you.”

  “County?” Luther shook the door of his cell. “What for? Let me outta here, you—”

  Ricky came throug
h and headed straight for the coffee pot. “Guy’s a menace. Shoulda kept him up there when they had the chance.”

  I looked up. “What’s going on? How’s Gladiola? What’s with Luther?”

  “The lady is just fine.” Wyatt came up to my desk, a battered Louisville resting on his shoulder. “Our Miss Gladiola clobbered him over the head with her walking stick, but not before he took out her mailbox.”

  “He’s the bandit? Well, I’ll be. Huh. Our ladies sure are getting the best of the bad guys these days.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Well, Dandelion Jones chased off a would-be thief with her broom. Now our post mistress takes out the mailbox baseball bandit with a walking stick.”

  He hefted the bat. “Seems right fitting.”

  “Darn tootin’. How did our three musketeers get involved?”

  “They were on their way over to Luke’s house when they came upon Miz McIntyre finishing up.”

  “Finishing up?”

  He nodded. “She must’ve hit him just right because it knocked him out, and she hog-tied him to what was left of her mailbox post.” A chuckle. “Funniest sight I’ve come across in a long time. Except for maybe Cletus’s befuddlement over Redbone and Petunia in the —”

  “That’s enough of a visual, thanks. I still don’t see where the boys come in.”

  “She sent them to get me.”

  “I saw that happen, but why didn’t she call the station?”

  “Once the boys came along, she figured it’d make their day to be part of the adventure, even in a small way. And the fact that Luther wouldn’t live it down anytime soon, only added to the satisfaction.”

  “She could’ve been hurt. If she hadn’t gotten the drop on him, that … Neanderthal, could’ve hurt her. Very badly.”

  “Maggie. She’s fine. She handled it the way she wanted. And you know it won’t do you any good to tell her she didn’t make the right choice—in your opinion. Besides, who was just aggravated at me for trying to curb her independence?”

  I huffed, then grinned. “Too bad you didn’t get a picture. Would’ve made a great front page splash.”

  “Yeah. Sure would’ve. I do feel bad, though.”

  “For what?”

  “That I had to shut you out.”

  “Shut me—?” I rolled my eyes. “Wyatt.”

  “What?”

  “So soon you forget.”

  He scratched his head. “What now?”

  “You don’t have to stop and explain in the middle of an emergency.”

  “Ah. Have we had this conversation before?”

  “Not in so many words. But as the dispatcher, I’m well aware of protocol and procedures.”

  “Ah. So…?”

  “So, it’s fine. I figured once you got back you’d tell me as much as you could.”

  He stared.

  I patted his arm and went to my desk. “Think about it a while then. I have work to do.”

  Frowning, hands in his pockets, he went towards his office.

  “Oh. I called Mom while you were out.”

  He turned. “Yeah? We set for Friday?”

  “No. They can’t make it.”

  “Aha! See?” Then he frowned. “What a shame.”

  “They’re coming over tonight. Hope you’re okay with that.” I needed to remember that we’d have to make a stop at Corsair’s before we went home.

  “Uh. Yeah. That’ll, um, be all right.”

  My hands shifted to my hips. “What?”

  “Mac and I were— Never mind. I’ll reschedule.”

  I growled. “Don’t do this to me again unless you’re right in the same room when I’m inviting people and negotiating dates and times.”

  “Aw, come on, hon. It’s no big deal. You know Mac and I never have definite plans. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Still. This was your idea. You didn’t give me a contingency— Oh, forget it.”

  He chuckled.

  I glared.

  He retreated to his office.

  CHAPTER 31

  DINNER WITH FAMILY

  “LASAGNA’S COMING OUT. Is that bread ready to go in?”

  “Yes. And the salad is done.”

  “Thanks, Mom. It’s awfully quiet in the living room. I wonder what’s going on.”

  Unbeknownst to me, after I’d told him about the dinner plans, Wyatt had gone behind my back and invited Gage and Dawson to the party. He knew from past experience that there would be plenty of food, and he wouldn’t be in trouble because I never get upset when there’s an opportunity to see my boys.

  He can be such a sweetie.

  And he makes up for any faux pas in the best way possible. If you get my drift.

  “I’m sure everything is fine, dear. There’s an NCIS marathon on the USA channel. You know what a fanatic you father is about that show.”

  “I do, yes. And the boys love it, too, but I think Wyatt may have Dad beat. We watch it all the time, on prime time and cable. It’s a great show.”

  “Maggie?” Mom paused, spatula embedded in the pan of pasta. “You two are okay, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “No reason, really. Your dad mentioned that Wyatt said he wanted to talk to him about something.”

  I frowned, then shrugged. “He and Mac have been talking about a Binger reunion. Maybe they’re discussing actual dates.”

  “Just so long as you’re doing okay, I won’t pry any further.”

  There was a mental eye roll there. “Gee thanks, Mom.” She doesn’t ever pry, but does pour on the guilt when she wants to know something.

  “Sorry. That didn’t come out the way I meant it.”

  Uh huh.

  I thought of the on-again-off-again tiff between Wyatt and me, but let it go. What she didn’t get a whiff of, I wouldn’t have to explain. “We’re fine.” Once she got a hook in something, there was no letting go until she had every itty-bitty iota of the nitty-gritty laid out for her.

  The timer for the garlic bread sounded.

  “If you take that pan out to the table and let the guys know soup’s on, I’ll get the bread sliced and bring the salad in.”

  “Sure.”

  By the time I got to the dining room, everyone was seated and had a big helping of pasta on their plates. Dad said grace, and they tucked in. I took a smaller portion, then passed the salad and bread basket.

  “Everything tastes delicious, dear.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Dad wiped his chin. “As always.”

  I smiled at my mother. “I come by it naturally.”

  Dad agreed with an “Amen!”

  Mom saluted me with her fork.

  Dawson grinned. “Sorry, Grams, but mom’s is better than yours.”

  With a faux-indignant huff, my mother dabbed the corners of her mouth. “I’ll have you know, young man….” She chuckled. “I taught your mom very well, it seems. I take all the credit.”

  “Oh, come on. I should get some of the credit, for the little nuances I give all the recipes I scarfed from you.”

  “Scarfed?”

  “Yeah. You never offered me any of them.”

  She peered at me with a hiked eyebrow. “You never asked for any of them.”

  “Did, too.”

  “Did not.”

  “Mom?”

  My mediator, Gage.

  “Yes?”

  “What’s for dessert?”

  All but one laughed.

  Wyatt watched us beneath somber brows. I almost wished everyone would hurry up and leave, so I could find out what had him so uncharacteristically silent.

  The finish of a heavy meal should be light, and usually I’d make Jell-O. But since there hadn’t been enough time for that, they’d have to make do with a can of peaches and a squirt of Reddi wip. Honestly, I’d forgotten all about dessert.

  “So Maggie, you invited us to supper, and not that you have to have a reason but, what’s the occasion?”

  D
awson, his dish empty, wiped his mouth. “Yeah, Mom. What’s up?”

  I looked across the table. They didn’t need to know I’d only been expecting two, not four, nor that it was Wyatt’s suggestion. “We hadn’t had y’all over for a while.”

  “And,” Wyatt stood and cleared his throat.

  That made me nervous.

  He looked at me. “I had a special reason for suggesting it.”

  Uh oh. He was coming around to my chair. Still so serious.

  “Maggie?” He pulled something out of his pocket.

  My breath caught. I blinked at the little box as tears formed and my heart started to flutter.

  “This has been in my possession for several months now, and even though I already asked and you said yes, I wanted to wait for a very special occasion to make it officially official.” He knelt in front of me. “Magdalena Elizabeth Susannah Maria-Louise Donovan Mercer, will you marry me?”

  “WOO!” Gage and Dawson high-fived.

  “Oh.” I tried to answer, but no words were coming. “Oh, Wyatt.” I cradled his face with my hands and kissed him.

  “Way to go, Mom!”

  “All right, Wyatt!”

  My boys were as excited as I was.

  Wyatt had asked me before, but it was after our very first date—if you could call it a date—and even though I accepted, this time he was offering the bling to go with it. And had included my family as witnesses.

  Then he opened the box, and I was even more speechless at the beauty of the ring inside. All I could do was nod, hard and fast.

  He got up, pulling me to my feet.

  I threw my arms around his neck and covered his face with kisses. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!”

  I was crying.

  My mom was suddenly there, hugging on us and crying. Dad was on the other side of Wyatt, laughing and wiping his eyes. My sons were hooting and giving each other back slaps … even caught Wyatt in a couple.

  Sheesh. You’d’ve thought it was a big surprise.

  And Wyatt? Wyatt was the Cheshire Cat. Just standing there, grinning like an idiot.

  Mom let go of me and grabbed his face, kissing both cheeks. “You’re such a sneaky, but considerate man. I’m a very lucky mother-in-law-to-be.”

  “Thanks. It’s a privilege to be part of this family.”

  Still holding his face, she smiled. “Oh, you are a handsome one.” She turned to me. “He’s a handsome one.”