The Body in the Wetlands

by Judi Lynn

  “Jazzi is nice. You’re the one who isn’t, so go away.”

  “Or? What are you going to do about it?”

  Jazzi shook her head. Tonya was messing with the wrong person.

  He took out his cell phone. “I’m going to report you as harassing us.” He jerked his head toward the city-county building. “I can have help here in a few minutes.”

  Tonya took a step backward. Ansel didn’t bluster like Mack did. “No need for that. I’ll leave.” But she hesitated.

  Jazzi was tired of her. She wadded up their dirty food wrappers and motioned for her to move on. “Gaff’s already talked to Mack. Do you need a lecture, too?”

  Ansel’s brows furrowed into a frown. “She obviously does, but if she gets out of here, I’ll put my phone back in my pocket.”

  Tonya turned and hurried away.

  Ansel shook his head in wonder. “Is Mack as bad as she is?”

  “They’re a perfect pair.”

  He sat down next to her to finish his last hot dog. “You shouldn’t have to deal with those two anymore. If she bothers you again, I’ll ask Gaff to deal with it.”

  “You won’t have to. I’m out of patience with them, and they know it. They won’t come around again.” Tonya would be stuck with Mack for as long as she could hold him, but that’s exactly what she deserved.

  * * * *

  They loaded back into the van a short time later, and Ansel drove home. It didn’t surprise Jazzi when he climbed onto his riding lawn mower half an hour later to mow around the house.

  “That way, I can take extra time to bag all the clippings today, then I can mow around the pond tomorrow.”

  “If you’re going to work, I’m running to the store to get that out of the way. I want to deep clean the house tomorrow. I’ve rushed things lately.”

  “Don’t buy anything to cook for supper tonight,” he told her. “I’ll run to get Chinese so you don’t have to cook. This is a goof-off Friday. It’s special.”

  “A freebie. I love it.” Ansel started his mower, and she headed to the store. The weather was so nice, and Ansel loved to grill so much, she decided to buy sirloins and chicken breasts for Sunday. She’d marinate both. She grabbed corn on the cob, because soon she wouldn’t be able to get it, and three bags of coleslaw. She decided to make cream pies for dessert.

  Ansel was still bagging the clippings when she got back, so she carried all of the groceries into the kitchen herself and put them away. When she emptied the brown paper grocery bags, she tossed them on the floor for the kittens to run in and out of. She only had a few. The rest of the bags were plastic. When the kittens got bored with the bags, she also tossed down two felt mice filled with catnip she’d bought in the pet aisle. The kittens pounced to attack them and batted them around the kitchen. George waited until she got to the bag with his favorite doggie bones. She tossed him one, and he carried it to his dog bed to guard it.

  She’d lost more time shopping and putting things away than she expected and had just finished when Ansel walked back in the house. He glanced at the clock. “It’s later than I thought. Let’s clean up, then I’ll go grab us Chinese.”

  They both headed up to the shower. It was a while before they came back downstairs, and if a dog could roll its eyes, George did. Jazzi had changed back into her T-shirt and shorts. Ansel ogled her legs. “No matter which part of you I look at, it’s a treat.”

  “You’re prejudiced.” He was. Some men zoned in on breasts. Some liked legs. Ansel even liked her back. He had eclectic tastes. “Want me to come with you?”

  “No, I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

  She started to the living room. He’d be gone about fifteen minutes, no longer. Not enough time to bother with anything. “I’m planting myself in front of the TV. I’m going to be lazy.”

  Forty minutes later, she glanced at the clock. What was taking Ansel so long? Ten minutes later, she started to get worried. Had he been in an accident? Then she heard his van pull into the drive and park near the kitchen. She got up to open the door for him in case his hands were full.

  He carried in a big bag of Chinese food, a tiny sack, and a bottle of champagne. He went to the kitchen island and dropped the food and bubbly there. Then he came to her and removed a small square velvet box from the tiny bag, went down on one knee, and flipped the box open. A white-gold braided band nestled there, embedded with small diamonds.

  “I think we make a pretty good pair,” he said. “We can fix anything if we work together. I know you said you didn’t want diamonds, but you can’t snag these on anything. Marry me?”

  He fit the ring on her finger, and she threw her arms around his neck.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes!” She knew she’d said they needed more time, but she’d never meet anyone she wanted more than Ansel.

  He scooped her into his arms and started for the stairs. George didn’t even bother to follow them. The Chinese food needed to be reheated by the time they got back to it, but the champagne was still cold.

  Chapter 43

  Nothing had really changed, but everything felt different when Jazzi started cleaning the house on Saturday. She was wearing Ansel’s ring. They were official. It was almost awkward at breakfast. What did you do when you declared yourself taken?

  Ansel kept glancing at the ring on her finger, and he looked proud of himself. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told her.

  Silly man. He could probably do better, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “It’s mutual, but I like things just the way they are. I don’t want anything to change.”

  “Agreed. We’re perfect as is, so I’m going to do what I always do.” He glanced outside with a gleam in his eyes.

  She had to laugh at him. She might be able to compete with other women, but she was no match for the riding lawn mower. “Big Green’s calling to you.” His name for it. “The grass is at least a half inch too high around the pond.”

  He acknowledged his fixation with a grin. She didn’t need to tell him he was a bit obsessive about the lawn. Besides, the man loved being outside, and this was a perfect day. An artist could have painted the blue sky filled with puffy white clouds. The perennials in her flower beds were just about done, only the sedum and mums blooming, but they were still attractive. When she looked out the back windows, beauty greeted her.

  When he went out to tackle the yard, she got busy scrubbing toilets, tubs, and sinks. Not nearly as glamorous. She dusted the upstairs, swept the floors, and changed the sheets on both beds before starting on the living room. She’d finished dusting it when the doorbell rang. She glanced at her reflection in the living room window. Hair a mess. Ratty T-shirt and mid-thigh shorts. Not good. But it was Saturday. What did anyone expect?

  The front door was open, and she saw Greg standing at the screen. It was locked, as usual. But the big door was wide, so he’d know someone was home. Still, at this angle, he couldn’t see her. Jazzi didn’t scare easily, but Jo had opened her door to someone she knew and ended up dead. Greg drove a blue car. Ansel was mowing around the pond and wouldn’t hear if she screamed for help. She moved closer to the wall, out of sight, and didn’t answer the door.

  He pushed the doorbell again, waited, then started to walk around the house to the back. She should be safe if she met him outside. She scrambled through the kitchen, grabbed her cell phone, and pushed Ansel’s number, then rushed to the back patio and bent to deadhead a few flowers, as if she’d been working there and didn’t hear him.

  When he saw her, he gave her his best smile. “I thought you might be out here. Hey, I found this cell phone at the bar, and I’ve been carrying it around for a while. Wondered if it might be yours.”

  She glanced at it and shook her head. “Nope, I have mine, but thanks for thinking of me.”

  A light gray van was parked in the
drive. It surprised her. “Did you get a new car?”

  A swift look that she couldn’t define passed over his face. “I’m going to start working mixed-drink parties with a friend who’s a chef. I needed something big enough to haul food and supplies.”

  She wanted to kick herself. She shouldn’t have mentioned the van. It had alerted him that she knew he drove a blue car. She put on a happy face for him. “Good for you! You get to start your mixology business. Is Seth going to teach you his secret recipes?”

  “He’s even going to show up at the first few parties to give me a good start.”

  Jazzi looked him up and down. He was looking particularly snazzy today in light jeans, a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a red tie hanging loosely for a pop of color. “Are you doing a party tonight?”

  “No, just testing things out.” Greg wiped his forehead with his arm. “The sun’s got some heat to it today. I don’t suppose you have a beer?”

  She didn’t want him in the house with her. She motioned for him to take a seat at the patio table. “Sure, wait here. I’ll grab one for each of us.”

  He pulled out a chair but didn’t use it. Instead, he followed her into the kitchen and gave a low whistle. “You’ve turned your house into something special.” He looked at the heavy Dutch oven on the six-burner stove. “That looks serious.”

  “It is. When you fill it, it takes some muscle to lift it.” Did he use a heavy pan to bash in the back of Jo’s head?

  He went to try it out. “I see what you mean. You couldn’t swing this thing.”

  She wanted him out of here. The sooner she gave him a beer, the sooner she could lead him back to the patio. She opened the refrigerator. “Is Stella all right?”

  “Perfect.”

  When she bent to reach for one, she heard him move. She gripped the beer bottle so that she could use it as a weapon if she had to, but the back door opened at the same time, and Ansel stepped into the house.

  He frowned at Greg. “Didn’t know you were here.”

  “I didn’t know you were back in town.” Greg took a few steps back toward the kitchen island.

  “Got back just in time to put a ring on Jazzi’s finger. Did you notice it?”

  Greg’s expression turned sour. “Not really. I came to return her cell phone, but it’s not hers. Someone else must have left it at the bar.” Jazzi slid the Stella across the island toward Greg, but he shook his head. “I think I’ll take a rain check, but thanks anyway. I have a few things to do before I work tonight.”

  Jazzi went to stand beside Ansel. Greg had been coming up behind her. What for? With a visible effort, Greg tried to turn on the charm. He looked frustrated but started toward the front door. “I hope I’ll still see you at the bar sometimes.”

  Ansel nodded. “We’ll be there.”

  Greg winced at the we. Had she misread things? Had he come to flirt with her? Was he going to grab her and kiss her at the refrigerator?

  Jazzi watched him walk to his van and drive away. She couldn’t relax until he was gone.

  Ansel crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “What the heck were you thinking—letting Greg in here when you were alone?”

  “I called you and met him on the back patio. He followed me in the house when he asked for a beer.”

  “I wouldn’t be any help when I’m working by the pond. I can’t even see the house over the rise. If something happened, I wouldn’t know you needed me.”

  She blinked. “That’s why I called you.”

  “You didn’t leave a message.”

  “I didn’t have time.” Her arguments sounded hollow, even to her own ears.

  “He was four steps behind you at the refrigerator when I walked in. He was starting to take off his tie.”

  His tie. She could feel the color drain from her face. She’d never seen him wear one before. A perfect noose. A perfect way to strangle someone. Meghan had been strangled. She went to a barstool. She suddenly needed to sit down.

  Had he worn the same outfit when he went to Meghan’s apartment?

  She was getting ahead of herself.

  Ansel came to stand behind her, to wrap his arms around her. “I never want to lose you. You have to be more careful.”

  “You could be right. What if you are?”

  “We’ll let Gaff decide.” He kept one arm cradled around her as he made the call. When he hung up, he said, “Gaff took it seriously. He’s going to look into Greg more.”

  They let the subject drop for the moment. Jazzi didn’t want to dwell on it. Apparently, neither did Ansel. He locked the front door and grabbed a bottle of water to take with him to finish the lawn.

  He stopped at the door. “We need some kind of system so you can call me to the house when you need me.”

  “You can’t be there for me every minute of every day.” She was a strong woman. If Greg had slipped a tie around her neck, she’d have given him a run for his money, starting with a broken beer bottle across his face. He’d have scratches and bruises, for sure. Meghan was a nurse, though. Nurses lifted patients when they needed to. They were strong, too. But Meghan was nice. How much of a fight did she put up? Jazzi was nice, too, but she’d grown up around Jerod. She could tussle with the best of them.

  Ansel looked solemn. “I know I can’t always be there for you, but I can be there as much as possible.”

  She loved him. She waved him away, too choked up to talk about it anymore. When he went back to the yard, she cleaned with a vengeance, concentrating on eliminating any trace of dirt rather than thinking about what-ifs.

  When the house was spotless, she turned on music and started cooking for the Sunday meal with her family. She started with the desserts—chocolate cream pie, butterscotch pie—then moved to Jerod’s favorites, coconut cream and pecan cream. Cooking calmed her. Then she made the coleslaw. If it sat for a while, it would be better. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

  Ansel glanced at the desserts when he finished for the day.

  “Not even a nibble,” Jazzi told him. “They’re for tomorrow.”

  He made a face but didn’t argue. “What’s for tonight?”

  “Carry-in fried chicken. The works.”

  He raised his eyes to the heavens. “That’s the way it always works. Put a ring on a girl’s finger, and she stops cooking for you.”

  She tamped down a smile. Thank heavens, they were back to normal. “You get gruel for breakfast.”

  He laughed. “George and I love fried chicken. I’m buying every side to go with it.”

  “Just remember you’re grilling steaks tomorrow. Save room for them.”

  He looked offended. “I can always eat a steak.”

  Come to think of it, he could. So could Jerod.

  Gaff called later that night. “Just wanted to let you know that we traced where Greg traded in his car for the newer van. The dealership’s already cleaned it, but my techs are going to go over it anyway. If Greg stuffed Leo’s body in the trunk, we should find something.”

  Jazzi wasn’t sure if she wanted the killer to be Greg or not. If it was him, she’d had a close call today. She thought back on his visit, and she remembered how his expression had changed when she’d asked him about his new van. Had he driven it here as a test? To see if she knew about his blue sedan? She had to get better at this detecting stuff. No, she had to avoid it. From now on.

  Chapter 44

  The kittens disappeared when people started filling the house on Sunday. The talk was all about Ansel’s return and the ring he’d given Jazzi. She and Ansel had agreed not to mention a word about Greg’s visit yesterday. It would only upset people.

  While Ansel and Jerod grilled, Jazzi’s dad and Eli—Jerod’s dad—went out to join them. The women stayed in the kitchen, and Mom and Gran oohed and aahed over Ansel asking Jazz
i to marry him.

  “Do you have a date?” Mom asked.

  “We haven’t gotten to that.” Jazzi carried dips to the table for Franny’s vegetable tray. She added pita and bagel chips. Everyone stood around the kitchen island, yakking and snacking. Jerod came in to grab some food to take outside.

  Gran raised her hand to her throat, beaming. “Our Lynda gave such a beautiful engagement party here. Remember it, hon? You should give one, too.”

  Joy flooded Jazzi. Gran remembered that long-ago party when Lynda was going to marry Cal and she could still stay grounded in the present. When she wasn’t stressed, Gran didn’t retreat to the far past.

  “We should give you an engagement party,” Olivia said. “Thane and I will buy the drinks if you do all the cooking.”

  Franny laughed. “That’s the majority of the work.”

  “But I can’t cook!” Olivia protested.

  “I thought you and Thane were going to make recipes his grandma gave you.” That’s what Olivia had told her.

  Olivia blushed, embarrassed. “We tried a few of them.”

  “And?”

  “It takes time to cook. There’s always something to chop or dice. And then it takes more time, cleaning everything up.”

  Jazzi raised an eyebrow. “What about the new KitchenAid you bought?”

  “I still have it.”

  Talk about dodging the issue. Jazzi gave a frustrated sigh. “Have you used it?”

  “It has even more parts that need to be cleaned.”

  “Exactly,” Mom said, rushing to Olivia’s defense. “Cooking is overrated.”

  Jazzi shook her head, dismissing them. “I like to cook. We’ll have to plan a party, but it has to wait a while until Ansel and I decide what we want to do.”

  Talk turned to the armoire Franny was close to finishing. Her shed was full of pieces to strip and stain. She was trying to get them done before her due date. Her stomach moved, and she put a hand on it. “This baby moves a lot.”

  She looked uncomfortable, and Jazzi felt sorry for her.