A Dead Red Oleander (The Dead Red Mystery series)

by RP Dahlke

  Pearlie patted her grandmother on the shoulder. "We should let her and Nancy get dressed." She nodded as Nancy stood, groaned, and head in hands, lurched for the bathroom.

  Aunt Mae tsked. "Hung over? Liquor won't fix that poor girl's problems. Breakfast. That's what she needs. Pearlie will fix it, won't you, darlin'?"

  Aunt Mae and Pearlie left me to pull on last night's clothes, and as they passed by the bathroom, I heard Pearlie stop and rap on the door. "Pancakes and sausage in fifteen minutes!"

  Pearlie laughed at her ability to start up another round of retching. Her granny scolded her, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. Pearlie simply couldn't resist.

  <><><><>

  I was getting coffee when my dad walked into the kitchen, pushing his shirttail into his pants, his white, flyaway hair uncombed, and his eyes bleary from lack of sleep.

  Aunt Mae sniffed at his disheveled appearance. "You sure you don't want to go upstairs and try again, Noah?"

  "I'm as dressed as I'll ever be and you're not my mama, thank you very much," he groused, then smiled at the steaming pile of pancakes and peach preserves stacked up on the kitchen table alongside the sausage.

  "Pearlie, I do believe you've outdone yourself this morning. And considering last night's fiasco, I'm glad to have a hearty meal before I spend the rest of my day repairing a broken window."

  Aunt Mae sniffed at the napkin stuck into the neck of his shirt, but that didn't keep him from throwing himself into his breakfast.

  I really should have Pearlie move in with my dad, I thought. She could take the scary out of him.

  The phone rang, which normally would send my dad into a ripping line about how he couldn't get any peace with the phone ringing all day long. However, he was remarkably silent on the subject. Instead, he pushed back his chair and readjusted his belt to the next hole."I think Bruce and I better get a walk in before I tackle the broken window."

  Pearlie was looking better to me every day.

  I scooted back my chair and answered the wall phone. It was Caleb. "You have an appointment with Detective Rodney at ten today. You and Nancy want to come by my office first? Marshal Balthrop is here and he's asked to see her."

  I interpreted his words to mean that something was afoot and I was going to get to listen in, 'cause Caleb knew better than to exclude me. My chest swelled with pride. Though I wasn't exactly a member of the police force, I was an asset, and a good partner to his investigation—at least that's what I told myself. "We'll be there at nine-thirty sharp. No problem."

  Nancy got as far as the kitchen door, turned an unspeakable shade of green, did an about-face, and took off for the stairs. I could tell that she made it to the bathroom, because I heard the toilet flush. I got some crackers out of the cupboard and went up to see if I could get her presentable before we had to leave for town.

  "What most people don't know is," I said, wiping her face with a cold rag, "the secret to drowning your sorrows in drink isn't the booze, it's the hangover. From where you sit, hugging that toilet bowl, last night doesn't look so bad now, does it? See? I can tell you feel better already."

  She grabbed the edge of the toilet and heaved until the bowl echoed with her sobs.

  "Okay, maybe not just yet. But Marshal Balthrop is waiting for us at Caleb's office so we better get moving."

  She wiped her mouth. "Jim's in Modesto? Today?" Her red-rimmed eyes widened and she staggered to her feet to look in the mirror. Shaken by her reflection, she started crying again.

  I patted her shoulder. "You look pretty pitiful right now, but you're young enough that you won't look so bad in another hour. So first things first." I turned the shower on and helped her strip down.

  It took all of an hour before she was clear-headed and no longer laying claim to the only toilet in the house. Juanita was still in Bakersfield, so it was up to me to see that the bathroom got a complete scrub down and once again smelling like a bowl full of cherries.

  <><><><>

  Caleb was waiting for us outside his office. He greeted me with a tight nod and took Nancy's elbow and ushered her into his office. The marshal stood up. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all. There was also a tension between the two men, a disagreement, or something that was putting them on edge.

  Caleb indicated a seating arrangement that included Nancy next to him and Marshal Balthrop on the other side of the table. Jim ignored Caleb and seated himself next to Nancy.

  I looked from Caleb to Jim Balthrop to Nancy.

  Nancy touched the marshal lightly on his wrist. The gesture melted his glower by a few degrees. Neither of them noticed when Caleb tipped an eyebrow in my direction that said, You were right. He is sweet on her. I answered with a quick nod.

  "What is it, Jim?" she asked. "You can tell me. Did I poison Arthur with that oleander after all?"

  He patted her hand. "Don't worry about that damn oleander anymore, will you? We have a bigger problem. I spent most of last night going over everything this case had, and I think it's time you told them your relationship with your godfather."

  "My godfather?" Nancy blanched. "Why? Is it going to be important?"

  "Tell them everything, and I'll fill in the blanks. Go on."

  She looked at me and then at Caleb. "The truth is my godfather was a gay man living a double life. His wife might as well have been a cardboard cutout, his sons were adopted, and he had a boyfriend he kept in an apartment on the other side of town."

  I said, "Does this involve some sort of blackmail?"

  "Yes, but not because he was gay."

  Jim cut in. "We pieced most of her godfather's background together after the fact. But this is what we know so far: after a brief stint in the Army he went AWOL and disappeared. His family was wealthy, so he could've slipped across the border and gone anywhere. He resurfaced twelve years later with a new identity. And with money funneled to him through his family's lawyers, he was able to buy a small hotel/casino."

  "My godfather's secret—that he'd gone AWOL from the Army, and then came back with a new identity—it made him the perfect patsy for a takeover. They sweetened the deal with a much needed infusion of cash, and they got the perfect setup to launder their money. But I had to go and open my big mouth, tell him he'd been discovered." Nancy slumped in her chair, biting on a cuticle.

  "So they used his secret life to control his casino, but why is this relevant now?" I asked.

  Jim answered for Nancy. "There's more. Tell them, Nancy."

  "My godfather was still alive when they took him to the hospital. His wife called me, frantic that I get there in time to donate blood, and of course I rushed to the hospital—he was the nearest thing I had to family. At the time I didn't question why she wanted me to donate blood. But, of course I went, grateful that she called me. He died as they were taking my blood. At the funeral, she was back to her cold, distant self, which only made me feel guiltier.

  "Then the boys were in that horrible car accident. I went to the hospital to see them. One of the boys was still alive and I offered to donate blood again, but she just pushed me away. They both died, and then … then she committed suicide."

  Jim cleared his throat. "The boys were adopted so they could take a universal blood donor. Nancy and her godfather were AB negative."

  Caleb said, "I take it AB negative is rare?"

  "Yes," Jim said, "and most people can accept blood platelets for surgery, but for a major blood loss, the AB negative people need the same type blood for a transfusion."

  I stared at Nancy, remembering our conversation about her mom and a cold speculum. "You had the same blood type because your godfather was your mom's sperm donor!"

  "Yes, and Jim was adamant that this remain a secret until my godfather's partners were convicted."

  "If I could discover the connection between Nancy and her godfather," Jim said, "so could they."

  I mentally tallied the bodies. Except for a biological daughter, his family members were all dead. "Then Nancy is her godfather's
only living heir?"

  "Unless they can get to her."

  "So last night's kidnapping was the real deal. They intend to kill her, too."

  Nancy sighed. "I don't think my godfather ever considered how ruthless these men were."

  "Jim," I asked, "even without Arthur, don't you have enough to prove these guys murdered her godfather to hide their money laundering?"

  "Arthur's testimony was critical to the case. The charges have now been dropped for lack of evidence. Of course, if we could find this Jack Lee Carton guy, get him to roll on his bosses, we'd have the proof we need to put them away for life."

  Nancy sighed. "It was my fault that my godfather was murdered, not Arthur's."

  "That's not true, Nancy," Jim said. "These men have a long history of criminal activity, and your godfather and his family would've been eliminated at some point. They got to Arthur at the barbeque and planned to kidnap you, thinking you would be easy pickings. Thank God Lalla proved them wrong." He looked at me. "You're a real scrapper, Miss Bains, and I have no doubt that the man they sent to get Nancy is now fully aware of that fact. Not that it will keep him from continuing to try, but I think it would be best if Nancy and I were in a motel where I can protect her."

  "Then she's back in the program?" I asked.

  Jim scrubbed at the stubble on his jaw. "I tried, but that's not the way they work. It's so much bureaucratic bullshit, and she still needs protection, so I'm taking some vacation time. I can't, I won't, leave her alone again."

  Nancy swallowed, unable to hold back her tears. "Jim, I can't tell you how grateful I am for your help, but I don't want you going out on a limb for me."

  "Somebody has to watch out for you."

  Nancy clasped his hand tightly as she searched his face. "Are you sure you want to put your career on the line for a woman who may be charged with murdering her husband?"

  He put his hand over hers and looking into her eyes said, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

  I looked at my watch. "What if the detective thinks he has enough evidence to arrest Nancy for her husband's murder?"

  Jim kept Nancy's hand in his. "Neither Caleb nor I believe this meeting with the detective is anything other than another go round with Nancy as a person of interest. And until the final toxicology report comes back, we don't even know how he was killed. I'll talk to the detective. See if I can't make him see beyond his big fat nose."

  Caleb raised a cautionary hand. "Be careful with that, Jim. Don't let him see you have any personal interest in Nancy, or he'll use it against you and you won't get any more information from him."

  I said, "I have to agree, Jim. There's no reason for Nancy to be stuck in a motel. There's no safer place for her than at our ranch. The house is surrounded by open land, and between my dad's shotgun and my Texas relatives, we can keep anyone at bay for as long as needed."

  Caleb said, "I can double the patrol on the ranch."

  Then I had an idea. "And you should stay at our house too, Jim. We've got a downstairs TV room with a nice big couch nobody's using. You'd be our first line of defense. What do you say?"

  His eyes went from mine to flicker on Nancy and then back again. "I was going to get a couple of hotel rooms in Modesto for us, but I think you're right. Your place would be safer than a motel—that is, if your dad doesn't mind another house guest."

  "I can assure you, he'll be glad to have another male at the dinner table." I was smiling when I said it, but I had no idea how my dad was going to take having another house guest.

  I said to Nancy, "With Jim there, we'll get to the bottom of Arthur's death, you'll see."

  "If you say so. Then let's go meet with the detective."

  Chapter Eleven:

  On the other side of our neighbor's peach orchard, someone was burning wood from fall pruning. The gray smoke coiled up to a ceiling of cooler air and trailed lazily south. I sat on the front porch, a glass of ice tea in my hand, while I allowed my thoughts to drift along with the smoke.

  Yesterday's meeting with Detective Rodney went as predicted: Rodney blustered and threatened a possible murder charge, but with no concrete evidence, Nancy was once again confirmed as my house guest.

  Caleb and I agreed to keep Nancy's biological relationship to her godfather a secret unless it became vital to her safety. I'd called home to alert my dad to expect another house guest,at least a few more nights.

  His reaction was silence. Then he asked, "Another female, I suppose?"

  "Actually, it's the marshal in charge of Nancy and Arthur's case. He'll be okay on a couch."

  "The T.V. room then. He's a trained U.S. marshal, he'll know the best line of defense against a threat. I'll move back upstairs, keep my shotgun by the open door. No one will get past the two of us."

  I sighed with relief and hung up. I could hear the pride in his voice. My dad was now part of a SWAT team, and I could envision his chest swelling when he told Shirley he couldn't spend the night because he had sentry duty.

  Light footsteps behind me said my house guest wasn't able to nap this afternoon, either. "Want a refill on that ice tea?"

  I held up the half-full glass. "How's Jim settling in?"

  While Nancy poured she filled me in. "Jim's set up a command post in your dad's TV room, and he's just finished rigging the exterior of the house for the remote cameras. Nobody's getting past Jim Balthrop."

  She sat down next to me in one of the two old wicker chairs. "I hope I don't keep you awake tonight. I just don't seem to be able to sleep anymore."

  "I've got some really boring gardening catalogs you can read. Aunt Mae sends them every spring. If you ask, I'll bet she has some in her suitcase, guaranteed to put you to sleep."

  "Lalla, what do you think my chances are?"

  I put down the glass and turned, causing the wicker in the chair to complain loudly. "Did you kill Arthur?"

  I didn't think her face could pale any further, but it did." Of course not! I thought you said you believed me."

  "I guess I simply needed to hear you say it."

  "I didn't kill Arthur. He was a good man. The best …." Her words dropped off to a sigh.

  This was the way she'd first described him to me—a good man, her hero—because she loved him, adored him, worshipped the ground he walked on? Or because she felt obligated, and had no other choice? She told us she felt responsible for her godfather's death and for Arthur having to go into the program. Arthur got a new identity with a spiffy new name, a pretty young wife, and an exciting new career. But did Nancy really understand how this would play out for herself? A Las Vegas girl giving it all up for a backwater town in the middle of California farmland? Or suddenly married to a man she barely knew and probably didn't love, when she had no job, no family, or friends?

  I heard a car turning on to our road. It was Pearlie and Aunt Mae back from town, no doubt loaded with groceries and ready for gossip. Nancy stood, restless and nervous.

  "It's only my cousin and great-aunt."

  "I know, but …."

  "But you don't think my cousin likes you—join the club. You'd think since we were both orphaned of at least one parent we'd gravitate to each other. But Pearlie sees every female as competition for whatever man she's interested in at the moment."

  "And I'm a widow who may be charged with murdering her own husband. Why can't she get that I'm not competition?"

  "You'd be shocked to hear this, but she'd happily trade places with you if it meant she finally managed to get a man to the altar."

  "She's never married?"

  "Aunt Mae does tend to find the worm at the bottom of the tequila bottle. It's not that she wants to discourage her granddaughter from a happy marriage. It's more like that she can't bear the thought of Pearlie going through five unhappy marriages."

  Nancy smiled, now a little more relaxed. "Sometimes we women outthink ourselves."

  "Hey, I'm best when I'm multi-tasking."

  The relatives got out of the rental and
waved us over to the open trunk.

  "You see the newspaper today?" Pearlie rushed the plastic bags into my arms, confirming my status as a beast of burden. "We did. A break-in at the Bains residence, and that Lalla Bains shot and wounded the burglar."

  "Great," I said, hefting another bag on top of the others. "Now all my customers will have an excuse to greet me with a shotgun when I come to collect those tardy invoices."

  "Yes, but the paper made it sound as if the guy the police took in for questioning was the only one. You think Jim Balthrop is responsible for keeping it out of the news?"

  "Don't know," I said, lugging my haul to the kitchen door.

  Nancy trailed in behind us and unloaded her bags on to the kitchen table.

  I counted twice the usual number of grocery bags. "Who's coming to dinner, the Peruvian Army?"

  Pearlie ignored me and fluttered around the table, checking the bags.

  Aunt Mae did that eye roll that said she was allowing me one guess.

  "Mad Dog? But Pearlie, don't you think—"

  Pearlie waved a long carrot at my face. "He has every bit as much right to be here as the marshal does. No offense, Nancy, but I promised the man a home-cooked meal and—and I'm gonna see he gets one tonight."

  What she meant was, now that Nancy's prospects were looking like she was about to be fitted for an orange jumpsuit, she was feeling relaxed enough to have him at our dinner table.

  <><><><>

  Dinner was interesting, just not in the way Pearlie had in mind. I sat with Caleb and Mad Dog on one side of the dinner table, Aunt Mae, Nancy, and Pearlie on the other side, and my dad and Jim Balthrop anchoring each end.

  Mad Dog was incredibly solicitous of Nancy, offering her second helpings, filling her water glass, diverting her with his military history. She answered politely, glancing once or twice at Jim, who to his credit ignored the display and kept up a running conversation with Aunt Mae.

  Finally, Pearlie stood up and sniffed. "This room has gone all stuffy. I'm going out to the porch for some fresh air. Are you coming, Mad Dog?"

  He looked up and smiled. "In a minute, darlin'. I don't want to leave the ladies to clear up all by themselves."