“I hope you figure things out quickly and come back to Morgan Valley. Can I take you to breakfast on your way out of town? I still owe you one without the excitement of burning buildings and mad dashes down the mountainside.”
She admired his ability to laugh, especially considering the circumstances. “You don’t owe me anything, and I’m leaving tonight. The desert heat will kill my car, and it’s already late, I better hit the road.”
“You’ll get in pretty late.”
“My dad made me reservations in a motel already. Besides, I’m used to late nights.”
“Then promise me you’ll me call if you get drowsy, no matter what time it is. I’ll keep you company. Don’t want you running off the road into a cactus, now do we?”
“I promise.”
“And like I said, do not worry about paying me, because I told you taking care of Penny was my pleasure. Support your local four-legged actors and all.”
“It’s more than just that. I feel like I’m at a crossroads in my life, and maybe my dad was right about my choice of career. I appreciate your offer, I may take you up on that.”
Humming to herself, Lucy finished packing and when everything was out and she’d cleaned and swept the apartment, she popped Penny in the crate in the backseat. “You go to sleep, girl. In the morning you’ll get to meet your grandpa!”
She pulled out of the parking space and waved to Mrs. Chastain peeking out through her blinds. The theater box office would be open, and she could pick up her final paycheck.
But instead of the office manager, Justin was sitting behind the grill doing something on the computer.
“What’s up, Luce?”
“I came by for my last check. Where’s Edith?”
“She’ll be back in a few. Sorry, I don’t have a key to the lockbox.”
“You getting some hours by working the box?” She checked the time, anxious to get on the road. Cleaning and packing had taken longer than she’d expected, and she was exhausted.
“Yep. What are you going to do now?”
“I have some options.” She watched him flip over the top pages of a clipboard, and wondered if he was avoiding eye contact with her, or just preoccupied. “Justin, do you know what antifreeze is used for?”
“It’s to keep your car the right temperature in cold weather, why?”
“Do you know anything else you can use it for?”
A smirk spread. “I got it! You’re thinking of going into auto repair.”
The door behind him opened, and Edith came in. “Why, hello, Lucy.”
“She came in for her paycheck,” Justin told her.
“Oh, yes.” Edith unlocked a drawer and sorted through several envelopes.
Lucy decided to drop the subject of antifreeze, and the whole detective persona. Justin had no motivation for poisoning Penny. And sweet little Edith was hardly someone who would harm an innocent dog. Out of ideas and hopeless that she’d ever work in the theater again, she took her check through the little window, and turned to go.
“Wait, hon. Before you leave, someone turned this in.” Lucy turned back to see Edith holding up her show book. “It’s in quite a shambles, but I thought you might want it anyway.”
“Where was it? Who turned it in?” Lucy scurried around to the door at the rear of the office so she could take the messy binder from Edith.
“I think Barnie found it, but you’ll have to ask him. It was outside the office door this afternoon when I got here.” She gave Lucy a quick hug. “They’re burying poor Ambrose tomorrow, dear. Are you going to the funeral?”
Lucy backed away, the notebook clutched to her chest. “I’m afraid not.”
She waved a quick goodbye and hurried to her car. I doubt if his family wants me there anyway, considering the police have decided I’m the culprit for his untimely death.
***
About an hour out of town, she had already begun to fight drowsiness. She held the wheel with one hand, dialing Cade with the other. She prayed her ancient blue tooth earpiece would work so she wouldn’t get a ticket. California law was hands-free while driving, and the last thing she needed was a ding on her driving record. And a fine.
“Hey, what’s your twenty little peanut?”
“Um.”
“That’s ‘what’s your location?’ in trucker speak.”
“Oh,” she smiled. He was getting very good at making her do that. “I’m passing the windmills of Banning.” The propellers littered the hillsides; giants intended to harness the wind for energy. Tonight they were quite still in the absence of enough breeze to turn them.
“I was thinking about what you said about Penny. Maybe we’re wrong, and the antifreeze was being used for something completely harmless.” She just wanted to put the whole incident behind her.
“You know more about theater than I do. It happens all the time that dogs find a puddle and drink it. If someone was using it somewhere inside and whoever was supposed to be watching Penny let her lick it, then she could have ingested enough to make her sick. She’s only about eleven pounds, it wouldn’t take much.”
“Hey, I found my showbook. I guess in the confusion of the death it got moved.”
“Everything still in it?”
“I’ll go through it when I get to Phoenix, I wanted to get on the road before it got too late.” It doesn’t matter now, anyway.
As the ribbon of highway churned underneath her jeep’s headlights, they chatted easily. He told her about the preliminary investigation of the fire, and that faulty wiring was probably to blame. The tagging had been a problem around other horse properties, and the police had no leads, but suspected kids home from school looking to show off for each other. “They have a zero tolerance policy, so I’ve already repainted the barn,” he told her.
Lucy asked him if he’d talked to that crotchety Mrs. Graves again, but then she realized Cade hadn’t commented in several minutes. “Hello?” She checked the screen. “Cade?”
Before she could redial, a loud boom of metal on metal exploded the Jeep and deafened Lucy. Everything went black.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Pain axed into Lucy’s skull, and fire ants consumed her left arm. Her right eardrum ached, and she wondered why the curtain had dropped, she hadn’t called it. Before she could make sense of what had gone so wrong, and what show she had just screwed up, there was a loud bang, and someone yanked her arm, sending the ant bites up into her shoulder. “Ouch!”
Before she could focus, the lights went completely dark as rough, smelly fabric draped across her face. An arm fumbled across her, the seatbelt was released, and she was pulled from her car.
Someone grabbed her hands and tied them behind her back, while someone else held her by the shoulders.
“What are you doing, stop!” In sudden awareness, Lucy realized the car she’d been driving had been struck, but instead of paramedics who would take care of her wounds, some creepola was dragging her into the night. “Get my dog! I have a dog!” she tried to pull away, but had no strength in her legs, nor did she know which way was back to her car.
“Shut up.”
Something banged her shins and Lucy yelped, clutched at them, and was shoved down onto the floor of another waiting vehicle. Oily exhaust mixed with the smell of her own blood, which she realized was dripping down her forehead and was beginning to sting her left eye. “Where are you taking me?” A solid object was shoved next to her, the door slammed, and over unintelligible mumbling from the front seat, she felt the vehicle lurch into gear. A bump, and the tires seemed to roll off the road onto the shoulder, and for the next excruciating few minutes, Lucy fought to stay alert. Soft whining came from her right, and she realized it was Penny in her crate. “Shhh, baby, it’s all right,” she cooed, but doubted that was the truth. Someone had hit her car, and now she was being driven into the desert? Shudders ran up and down her spine as she imagined what could be going on and what they intended to do to her. But if they were going to harm her,
why bring the dog? Maybe they were afraid of leaving a witness? Could dogs be used as an eyewitness…or nose-witness as it were?
Her head ached with the questions and fear, her adrenaline from the crash was waning and her hands, tied behind her, were losing feeling.
Stay aware of where they’re taking you, she kept reminding herself. You could be your own rescuer. From the box, Penny’s soft whine rose as they jostled over rough ground. “It’s okay, honey, I’m right here,” she repeated. “I don’t know what’s going on either, but at least we’re together.” Bruised and bleeding on the floor of the vehicle bumping farther into the night, Lucy prayed for God’s protection from whatever these jerks intended to do to them.
In what she estimated to be about twenty minutes, even though it was hard to tell as she drifted in and out of consciousness, they came to a stop, and the engine was shut off. The front doors opened and closed, and she was handled with the same rough treatment as before, only this time they dragged her backwards.
“Where are you taking me?” She yelled, but when one of them gripped her hands, and shoulder, shoving her forward, she decided for hers and Penny’s sake she needed to cooperate. Disorientation and the blow to the forehead combined to create a whirling nausea into her throat. Swallowing bile, Lucy realized her right leg had gone to sleep, and it gave way. She crashed to the ground, and sand and dust seeped through the thin fabric into her mouth.
““Get up!” a gruff voice commanded, and once again she was lifted roughly to her feet.
She heard a creak that sounded like rusty door hinges, and felt herself being shoved forward. She tripped on the doorjamb, then stepped over onto a hollow sounding floor. Scraping followed, and the door slammed, metal on metal. Then silence. In a few stuttered breaths, she heard the engine start up and its coughing rattle recede into the night. Penny whined, and the curtain drew closed once again.
CHAPTER NINE
Groggy and aching with a thirst that closed her throat, Lucy opened one grainy eyelid, the other remained crusted shut. She could tell it was light outside by the change in the color of the fabric covering her face. Her arms cramped so it was difficult to move them since she’d lain on them for who knew how long, and her left shoulder was entirely numb. Fighting through the pain, she rolled over, then back again to test the best way to try and free her bound hands. She’d been a stagehand for a touring escape artist once, and recalled watching him rehearse. The trick was in his ability to drop a shoulder, then squirm until he’d worked his hands free. Curling her knees to her chest, she drew her arms down, stopping once when to wait for a shooting sensation to subside down her shoulder. Then she tugged her hands up over her feet. She lifted off the cloth before falling backward, gulping oxygen into her lungs and allowed herself a moment to rest.
She rubbed her crusted eye with the back of her hand to coax it open, and focused on a dust bunny inches from her face. It was crawling toward her, and she shrieked as eight nimbly legs flexed and folded straight for her. She pulled up her legs, still tied together, and scootched away from the arachnid targeting her jugular. Moments before it reached her bare ankle, she spiraled, spinning on the rough boards so she could smoosh it with her sneaker. Its guts squished out, the little black legs left in pieces from her rubber sole.
Panting, she checked the floor for more spiders, and had her first real look at the tiny cell. It was a shed of some sort, built of wood that had shrunken and weathered enough for light to seep into cracks between the two-by-four walls. High overhead, a tiny window framed a blue, cloudless sky. A half dozen or so rusty and cobwebbed tools leaned in the corner. Penny’s crate lay on its side near the door.
“It’s ok, girl. We’re alive,” she said, hoping Penny was still alive.
With her teeth, she pulled off the duct tape from her wrists, then ankles, and knelt beside the crate.
Bright eyes blinked at her. The pup was huddled in the corner of the crate, quivering. She reached in and ran a hand around to make sure she was all right, then lifted Penny out, again running fingers along her legs to check for broken bones and looking for signs of blood. Cradled her to Lucy’s chest, Penny offered a tentative lick to her sweaty face.
“Phht! Doggy morning breath.” She didn’t mind though, and uttered a prayer of thanks they were both alive and no real harm done. “Now let’s see about getting ourselves out of here.”
She set her down and Penny followed her to the door, expectant.
Her pockets only offered up an old tissue and a roll of mints. No phone. Popping a mint in her mouth, she listened for any activity outside before trying the knob.
Penny scratched at the door, but it was locked. Lucy peered through a gap, but could only see sand stretching to the horizon, and heard no one.
The window was too high, so she turned over a plastic bucket and had to stop as the movement sent daggers of pain into her mangled shoulder. When she could catch her breath again, she stepped up, careful not to teeter. She was still barely tall enough to see out. There was a well cap of some sort, and discarded tires and other trash. No vehicle or bad guys lurked.
Penny whined again and scratched at the door.
“Were not in Kansas anymore, girl.” Stepping down, Lucy wiggled the knob again, but still no luck. She scanned a wall of rusty implements hanging on equally corroded hooks. A saw was too brittle against the stubborn knob. Then a pick ax leaning in a corner caught her eye. She swiped away a curtain of cobwebs with the saw, and picked up the tool with her good arm.
“Stand back, girl. Over there behind me,” she commanded Penny, who promptly obeyed. Lucy had to use both hands to lift the heavy ax over her head, grimacing. She let it fall, sending sparks into the air and shocking jolts of torture ripping down her arms when metal struck metal.
After the first blow, she paused to listen but no one came running to the prison door. Again and again she struck the knob, and finally broke a small hole in the door, but the metal stayed firm. Adrenaline and panic combined, and sweaty tears stung her eyes, until the knob bent, then broke off, clattering onto the floor. The door swung open.
“Ok, you can go out.”
Penny scampered out and squatted. Lucy dropped the axe and massaged her throbbing shoulder. Used to a fair amount of heavy lifting, she usually wore gloves. The axe’s rough handle had raised a blister. Sucking at it, she realized there was a huge probability of snakes, and whistled to call Penny back. The dog had found the well, and was trying to lap water from a dripping faucet.
“Oh, honey, wait! I hope that water’s clean, the last thing you need is to be taking in more poison.” Lucy pulled Penny away, caught a few drops in her palm, sniffed, then tasted it. It had a tinge of sulphur, but it would have to do. She looked around for a dish or bowl or something to capture more water in. An old scrap of metal, when bent into a V shape, puddled enough for Penny to drink from. When the water ran clear, she rinsed out an antique looking Coke bottle of thick green glass and quenched her own thirst.
“We’ll take this on our hike back to the road, girlfriend.” Penny looked up at her. “If we stay here, the bad guys might come back, so we’d better get moving. She sounded braver than she actually felt, and was immensely glad Penny obeyed her well enough to stay close. The last thing she needed was to chase a dog into the sandy wilderness.
From what she could tell, they were several miles from the highway. No road noise, no cars skimmed along the horizon.
She looked down at the little dog, an expectant look in her big brown eyes.
“Off to see the wizard?”
***
Heat beat down, and a blister on Lucy’s left heel screamed to her to stop, but there was nowhere to sit except on a fallen cactus or rocks baking in the sun. If contact with the hot boulders didn’t burn her, a snake, scorpion, or a spider would be lurking in its shade waiting to attack. Penny had slowed, and dragged her little paws, her mouth open wide as she panted to keep cool. Praying for guidance and a miracle that neither of them would
keel over from heat stroke, Lucy lifted one blistered foot after another.
Every few steps she checked on the dog’s progress, aware her recent illness was affecting her. “C’mon little girl, you can make it.”
The water bottle, tied to her belt loop with a bit of string she’d found, had freed her good arm so she could hold a flap of cardboard over her head.
She glanced at the hills, judging they’d walked about a mile and a half. Stopping to listen for road noise, she prayed she was correct that the highway was just over the knoll. The sun was directly overhead, and she began doubting her directional expertise. Had she been thinking clearly, or was she panicking and in a hurry to get away from the shed when they started out? Did she recall the drive in last night, or was she delusional from the crash?
The dirt road running past the shanty had given no clue which direction would be the quickest to the highway, so she’d had to rely on her memory of the geography. The dirt road was hard and gravely, and had forked several times, causing her to make decisions. It was possible she was walking in circles, like the buzzards high overhead, catching thermals, probably eyeing the small dog for a quick lunch.
Without warning, Penny stopped, and then lay down on her side, tongue lolling into the hot sand. Lucy held the cardboard over her panting body, counting to ten to give her a rest. Then she called a cheery, “Let’s go!” but she didn’t jump up, she just lay there blinking and panting.
After a few more failed attempts to get her moving, Lucy knew she was going to have to carry her the rest of the way. With most of her weight on her one good arm, in about another mile, the dog began to feel as heavy as her dad’s bowling bag, custom ball, shoes, and all.
The afternoon wore on, the heat soared, and by the time Lucy heard the glorious whine of 18-wheelers, RV’s, and passenger cars, she was practically blind with exhaustion, a wrenching gut sick and exploding from the untreated water, and her arms felt like they would burst out of their joints. Stumbling toward a row of buildings and into their shade, she had to believe that some kind soul would find her lifeless body and give her a decent burial. And her little dog, too.
Murder, Most Sincerely: A Romantic Backstage Mystery Page 6
