Mother’s eyes lit up, and I could tell I was going to get a juicy piece of gossip. “Daniel is good, but his heart’s just not in it. When Natalie married him, he wanted to be a general practitioner and heal the world. But he was on a scholarship. His family is dirt poor. Natalie decided she wasn’t going to be married to just an ordinary doctor and she holds the purse strings, so he went into the specialty she chose for him.”
I lifted an eyebrow in amazement. “One of your circle of friends married a guy with no money?”
Mother finished her glass of wine and folded her hands, highlighting her perfectly manicured nails. “Natalie’s not exactly a friend. She’s a couple of years older than me, but I remember the story quite well. Just before a big homecoming dance, her fiancé dumped her and married a waitress.” If she’d said prostitute instead of waitress, she couldn’t have said it with more disdain. Since I wanted something from her, I refrained from reminding her that her daughter was a waitress. “I don’t think Natalie cared that much about her fiancé,” she continued, “but she was totally humiliated. It was quite a scandal.”
Mother lifted her glass and took a dainty sip of wine. She looked pleased. I had no problem believing Natalie was not exactly her friend.
“Of course she needed an immediate replacement. Daniel was very good looking and any girl would have been thrilled to go out with him even though he was on a scholarship and came from some religious farm where everybody’s poor and they wear ugly clothes.”
That was an interesting coincidence. Fred had told me Matthew came from Seventh Gate, the religious farm community west of town.
“Daniel was very nice and very shy and didn’t seem to have any idea half the women at the university were interested in him. He was completely focused on his studies.” Mother paused while the waiter refilled her wine glass. “When Natalie went after him, Daniel never stood a chance.”
Mother seemed to like Daniel Jamison in spite of his humble beginnings. I wondered if she had been one of the women interested in him before Natalie stepped in. “Did you know he owned Fred’s house for a while? Apparently he and his wife were having problems and he considered moving out.”
Mother ate a bite of fish and looked pleased. “Of course she never mentioned it, but I’m not surprised. It was probably when one of Daniel’s younger brothers moved in with them. They’d only been married a couple of years and he was still in medical school, but he wanted to help his brother go to college. I think he had about a dozen brothers and sisters. Honestly, those people have never heard of birth control.”
A younger brother? Matthew was younger than Daniel. Was he the plastic man’s brother? Had Dr. Dan lied about nobody living in Fred’s house? It seemed awfully suspicious that the house would have sat empty for five years. Had Matthew lived there, been somehow connected with Sophie? I gulped the rest of my wine.
“Natalie didn’t like having him there,” Mother continued, oblivious to my approaching breakdown. “Usually Daniel did whatever she told him to do, but he stood his ground on that one. Maybe they bought the house for the brother to live in though I don’t think he ever did because Natalie complained incessantly about how he was always underfoot and how much money they spent on him.”
Sophie had mentioned Carolyn and her mother, nothing about a boy. Upon reflection, I doubted the brother had lived in that house but I was still bothered by the possible connection between Matthew and Daniel. “Do you remember the brother’s name?” I held my breath.
“The whole family had Bible names.”
Bible names? Like Matthew? I coughed, grabbed for my glass of wine which had somehow become empty, then settled for a long drink of water.
Mother frowned, a peculiar expression since her forehead didn’t move thanks to her latest round of Botox. “Did you find a bone in the fish? I’ll get the waiter.” She lifted a peremptory hand, but I shook my head.
“No. The fish is fine. What was the brother’s name?”
“Lindsay, why are you so interested in Daniel’s brother? Does this have something to do with your decision to have some work done? He’s a little old for you, and I think he’s still married to his third wife. Or maybe she’s his fourth. Anyway, someone like Gregg Lansford would be more appropriate. You dated him in high school, remember? He just went through a divorce too so you have something in common.”
“Mother, what is his name?”
She did the frown thing again. “I just told you. Gregg Lansford.”
“No, what is Daniel’s brother’s name?”
“Oh, are we back to him again? He’s Jay Jamison. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He’s an attorney but not in the same class as your father. Jay represents murderers and drug dealers and he’s on television a lot. He loves the press. He even has an ad on television.” From the tone of her voice, I envisioned Jay Jamison’s ad featuring a prostitute in skimpy black leather, wielding a whip and gun in one hand, a crack pipe and heroin needle in the other with a banner running across the bottom showing Jay Jamison’s name and phone number. Need help? Call Jay Jamison.
“Everybody’s entitled to legal representation, blah, blah, blah. Mother, Jay’s not a Biblical name. Is that maybe his middle name? Do you remember his name?”
“Let me see. Something old-fashioned, but those old-fashioned names are becoming trendy again.” She tapped the table with one white-tipped fingernail. “Joshua. That’s it. Natalie called him Jay, but Daniel always used the full name. Joshua.”
I let out a long breath. Not Matthew. I still had some concerns about him, but I was glad to know he wasn’t directly linked to the house where Sophie dreamed that she saw someone die. Fixing Paula up with a stalker would be bad enough, but I was pretty sure she’d be extremely upset with me if he turned out to be a murderer.
Chapter Eleven
My first impulse when I got home after my lunch with Mom was to rush into my house, eat half a dozen brownies and relax for an hour or three or four before fetching Rickie. But I couldn’t do that to Fred. Anyway, he’d know. Fred knows everything. I’m certain he has all the houses in the neighborhood bugged or he has x-ray vision or he’s psychic. Maybe all three.
When Fred answered his door, I expected to see him disheveled and distressed, but he was immaculate and calm. He must have locked Rickie in the basement.
I entered the living room to find the boy sitting on the sofa with a book in his lap.
“Rickie, why don’t you go outside while Lindsay and I talk?” Fred requested. “Don’t leave the yard.”
Without a protest, a shrug or a whatever, Rickie laid down the book and walked outside.
“What did you do to him?” I asked as soon as the door closed behind him. “Did you beat him? Drug him? You haven’t had him long enough to brainwash him.”
Fred shook his head. “Really, Lindsay, you come up with some of the strangest notions. We just had a little chat. Would you like wine or Coke?”
“Coke and chocolate if you have any. I had plenty of wine at the restaurant but no decent chocolate. They had chocolate mousse, but it was mediocre. I guess I’m spoiled by my own baking.”
“Well, I suppose there’s no reason to be humble when you’re the best.” He went to the kitchen and I sat down on the sofa.
I picked up the book Rickie had been holding. The Shining by Stephen King. If the kid had actually been reading it, I hoped it didn’t give him any ideas for new mischief.
Fred returned with a brownie and Coke for me and a glass of wine for himself.
“You survived your mother and I survived your stepson,” he said as he settled in his recliner.
I flinched. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that. I’m not married to his father. He’s not my stepson.”
“Very well. Your ex-husband’s son failed to destroy my house or my person in spite of his best efforts. Tell me what you learned about Daniel Jamison.”
I repeated my mother’s stories. “I didn’t really learn anything useful, but the possible co
nnection between him and Matthew is creepy. Can you find out anything else about those people out there?”
“It’s difficult to find information about them because they’re not in any of the public records.”
“Does that mean we’re going to pay them a visit?”
“Maybe. I’ve got a couple more things I want to try. Take your ex-husband’s son home and let me get back to work.”
I finished my Coke and set the can on the coffee table. “You’re doing such a good job with him, I thought maybe you’d want to keep him for a while.”
“Very funny. No word from his mother?”
“I haven’t checked my land line messages, but I doubt it.”
“What are you going to do with him while you work tomorrow?”
I heaved a deep, sincere sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe I can leave him at Zach’s babysitter.”
“Only if you don’t care if the woman never speaks to you again.”
“I could stick him in one of the ovens at the restaurant. Shove something under the handle so he can’t get out.”
“I hope you have no plans to become a mother.”
“You ever think about getting married? Having a family?” For all I knew, he could have been married five times and have a dozen offspring. That’s how little I know about him.
“I’ve often thought about flying, but that doesn’t mean I plan to find the nearest tall building and try it.”
“Good decision. I tried it from our rooftop when I was five. Dropped like a rock.”
I went outside and found Rickie sitting quietly on Fred’s front steps. I looked back at Fred. “Are you sure you didn’t drug him?”
He closed the door.
“Let’s go home and eat some leftovers. I’ve got to work tomorrow so we have to go to bed early tonight.”
“Okay.”
It wasn’t yes, ma’am, but it was better than whatever.
When we got home, he voluntarily took a shower. I sent up a short but fervent prayer that the effects of whatever Fred had done to him would last for a few days, at least until someone came to reclaim him.
*~*~*
Henry woke me a little after two a.m., leaping onto my chest and yowling. Obviously the soothing effects of his catnip had worn off.
“If this is Sophie doing her nightly visitation thing again, you’re cut off catnip for the rest of your natural life.”
He leaped off the bed but instead of going to the window that looked out on the street, he went to the side window where he stood with his paws on the sill.
I went to the window and looked out at the trees that separated my house from Fred’s. It was a beautiful moonlit night and a soft breeze stirred the leaves.
Then the leaves on a branch close to the house shuddered wildly. Considering everything that had been going on, that was a little creepy. “You better not be carrying on about a raccoon or a possum,” I warned, though I was seriously hoping to see a pointy little face appear among the leaves. Better than the alternative.
That’s sort of what happened. Rickie, dressed in T-shirt and shorts instead of pajamas, crawled out of the foliage and reached for the window sill of the guest room.
“Hey!” I shouted.
He fumbled and almost fell but grabbed the window at the last minute and pulled himself up, disappearing inside.
I charged out of my room and down the hall to the guest room door. Silly me, thinking I could control Rick’s son by just telling him he was locked in a room. If there hadn’t been a window, he’d have tunneled out from the second floor.
I yanked the door open and he fell into my arms.
“He’s after me!” he shouted.
“Nobody’s after you. You’ve just been busted and you’re not getting out of it with some ridiculous story.”
“Yes, he is after me! The man in Sophie’s house. He saw me and he came after me!”
I disentangled myself from his arms and pushed him away so I could look into his eyes. He was doing a really good job of looking scared. Terrified, actually. “Sophie’s house? Have you been at her house? What were you doing over there? Either you tell me the truth or I’ll take you back to Fred’s!”
“I am telling the truth! You made me to go to bed too early and you don’t have television in here or anything, so I climbed out the window, and when Sophie went over to Fred’s house, I went inside.”
“You broke into Sophie’s house?”
“No! She left the door open. I just went in. If the door’s already open, why shouldn’t I go in?”
I threw my hands into the air in frustration. “Because you shouldn’t. You don’t go in somebody’s house unless they invite you.” I shook my head. “Go back to bed. We’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”
I turned away, but he grabbed my arm. “No! There was a man who came in after I did, and he went in the kitchen and did something to her stove and then he turned around and saw me and chased me!”
I studied him more closely. I hadn’t turned on the hall light, but even in the moonlight I could see the perspiration on his brow. The fear in his eyes and his voice seemed genuine.
“What did he do to her stove?”
He stood on one foot and then the other. “I don’t know. He did something behind it. I think he cut something. He had a knife. A big knife.”
“What did the man look like?” If he said it was Matthew—well, if he did, I’d decide then whether or not to believe him.
He wiped a hand across his face. “He was huge and his face was covered with a black mask and he had a gun.”
A knife and a gun. If I let him continue, the guy would soon acquire a grenade and a rocket launcher. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going over to Sophie’s house to check out her stove. We’re going to wake her up in the middle of the night. If you’re telling the truth, she’ll be grateful to us. If you’re not, you’re in big trouble.”
He staggered away from me. “No! I don’t want to go back! What if that man’s still there?”
“We’ll take an iron skillet and Fred with us.”
He looked to one side of the room and then the other as if searching for an escape route. I grabbed his arm just in case he headed for the window again.
I didn’t believe Rickie. Not completely. But his attitude was so different from his normal surliness, I had to give him some credence.
I called Fred, grabbed my cell phone and my iron skillet, took Rickie by the hand and met Fred as we headed to Sophie’s house. Rickie tugged, whined and protested the entire way.
As we crossed the street, I saw something sparkling lying on the pavement, something catching the moonlight and reflecting it back in a thousand facets.
Sophie’s ring.
We stopped. Fred picked it up and looked at me. “It’s hers,” he said.
“She dropped it when she went back home!” Rickie said, struggling harder.
Fred shook his head. “She didn’t have it on when she came to my house.”
I had to focus to control the hand holding my iron skillet. “You stole her ring,” I accused.
“That man must have dropped it,” Rickie mumbled, looking down at the street.
“The truth.” Fred stood directly in front of him. Since Rickie didn’t look up, he couldn’t have seen Fred’s gaze, but I was sure he could feel it.
“It was just laying there on the table. I picked it up to look at it and then I saw that man and I ran away and forgot I had it and I guess I dropped it when I ran across the street because I was scared for my life and I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You’ll give it back to her and apologize.” Fred sounded angry. Very angry.
So was I, but I couldn’t match the anger in Fred’s voice. I couldn’t recall ever hearing that tone coming from him before.
He put the ring in his pocket and we continued to Sophie’s house.
Her front door was unlocked.
“I unlocked it,” Rickie said, still looking down. “When I
was trying to get away.”
“Call her, Lindsay,” Fred instructed. “I’m going in.”
I released Rickie’s hand, set my iron skillet on the porch and took my cell phone from my pocket. I heard Sophie’s phone ringing inside the house just before I heard Fred shout, “Gas! Call 911 and go to the far side of the street!”
Gas? Someone had done something to her stove, maybe cut the gas line with a big knife, just as Rickie said. Maybe he hadn’t lied.
But he had stolen her ring.
He had saved Sophie’s life.
But he was a thief.
Chapter Twelve
“Go back inside my house!” I shoved Rickie toward the street, killed my call to Sophie and punched in 911. “Gas leak!” I shouted into the phone, then took a leap of faith in Rickie’s story and added, “Home invasion!”
While I answered their questions, I grabbed my trusty iron skillet and ran around to the side of the house where the gas meter was located. I needed a wrench but all I had at the moment was the skillet. I used the handle to whack the lever in the direction to turn off the gas to the house. The gas company would probably be upset with me for damaging their equipment. They could get in line behind the people who thought I should put poison on my lawn and the ones who didn’t like my driving and…well, the list goes on.
When it appeared to be in the correct position, I disconnected the 911 operator, turned to go back to the front of the house and ran smack into a solid body.
Strong arms grabbed my shoulders. I went straight from panic mode to sheer terror mode. Had the mysterious man in black with a big gun and a big knife returned? I lifted my skillet to defend myself but recognized Fred before I delivered a fatal blow.
I lowered my skillet and he stepped back. “I was going to take care of that.” He nodded toward the battered gas valve and took one of those multi-purpose tools that men carry from his pocket. “But it looks like your method, while a bit crude, worked.”
I lifted a hand to my throat and tried to appear calm. “Is Sophie okay?”
Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 04 - Chocolate Mousse Attack Page 10
