He looked sympathetically at Sylvia. “The good news is that nothing is broken.”
Did he really just say nothing was broken? Deena’s heart soared.
“The bad news is that you have a really nasty sprain. You’ll need to wear a supportive boot for the next two weeks until it heals.”
A boot? Deena had worn one once when she twisted an ankle. She took it off after the second day. Maybe Sylvia would bounce right back, too. Maybe she could be home by the end of the week.
“And another thing. No driving for two weeks.”
Deena’s heart sank like a stone in a swamp. How could this be happening just when she was ready to send Sylvia packing? She had an idea. “Maybe I can drive you back to Tulsa to recuperate at home. Surely, you want to see your own doctor.”
“Absolutely not,” Gary said. “There wouldn’t be anyone there to help her during the day.”
Deena shot her husband a look. Unfortunately, he had reverted back to being “Sylvia’s baby boy” and didn’t seem to get it.
“I don’t want to be a burden,” Sylvia said, reaching for Gary’s hand.
“Nonsense,” he said. “We’ll be happy to take care of you, right, Deena?”
All eyes turned to her, and she forced a smile. “Of course.” She hated to lie, but what else could she say?
Chapter 4
Her cell phone rang at eight o’clock sharp, and Deena knocked it to the floor trying to shut it off. She hadn’t slept well at all. Her restless dreams had been filled with visions of ghosts and witches, all with her mother-in-law’s face staring through her soul.
“Who was that?” Gary was dressed and pressed, ready to head out for the office. His job at Maycroft Financial Management required him to dress up more than most businesses in their small town. Secretly, Deena thought he actually liked wearing a tie and dress shirts. They made him look even more dashingly handsome.
“I don’t know.” She peered through sleepy eyes and pulled her phone up from the floor by the cord as though she were fishing for lake trout. Her phone showed the call was from Ian Davis. Immediately, her eyes flew open. Could he be calling about Sandra? Had she gone into labor already? She wasn’t due for at least a few more weeks.
She sat on the edge of the bed and called Ian back.
Gary paced nervously across the bedroom. “What was that about?” he asked as she ended the call.
“Ian wants me to come up to the office. He may have a new case for me to investigate.”
Gary picked up his suit coat and laid it gingerly across his arm. “Have you forgotten about Mother? You have to take care of her today. She’ll probably be up any minute now.”
Deena rubbed her eyes. She had not forgotten about Sylvia. In fact, that was all she had thought about for the past twenty hours. “I’m on it. I’ll get her dressed and fed and then run up and see what Ian wants. She can call me on my cell if she needs anything.” She stood up and gave him a reassuring kiss on the cheek.
“Okay,” he grumbled. “Just be sure she has her soaps to watch and her hot tea. You know how she likes her tea, right? Milk and sugar with a small lemon wedge?”
“Of course. It’s not like I haven’t been with her every day for the past six weeks.” Deena got up and pushed him toward the door. “You just go on to work and make other people rich. I’ll call you later.”
As soon as the garage door closed, Deena heard Sylvia’s shrill voice call out from the bedroom. Hopeless had turned into helpless. Maybe she could give her mother-in-law a big dose of painkillers and...
Stop it, she chided herself. You’ve been reading too many murder mysteries.
Chapter 5
Sylvia limped over to the patio door to check on the weather. Even though Maycroft was only 250 miles south of Tulsa, it might as well have been in Mexico. The temperature was stifling. She thought about the Halloweens when her children were young. Most of the time they ended up wearing coats over their handmade costumes.
Handmade. Who was she kidding? Sylvia usually picked up store-bought costumes and embellished them to look as though she’d made them herself. After all, she didn’t want any of the neighbors to know she’d never mastered the art of sewing. She did love to knit, however, and Deena had found her some lovely vintage yarn from the thrift store.
Before she could get to her sewing tote, Hurley barked and turned circles in front of the patio door. Sylvia let him out into the backyard and tottered toward the bedroom. She thought about changing out of her housedress and slippers, but decided she would be more comfortable sitting in Gary’s big chair wearing something loose. Besides, she was injured. It’s not like she’d be seeing anyone today.
When Deena had finally left to go see that lawyer she worked for, she had told Sylvia she’d be back in a few hours. She had held her tongue. She knew Deena had a tendency to let a few hours turn into an entire day. Just as well. Sylvia could get a little rest and relaxation without having to entertain her daughter-in-law for a change. A quiet morning with only her knitting and soap operas was just what the doctor ordered.
As she picked up the tote, she heard the dog bark wildly. What is it now? It seemed like that dog barked at every squirrel and rustle of the wind that happened along. She set her knitting bag next to the chair and grabbed the cane Deena had found for her. Opening the door, she saw Hurley next to the fence on the side of the yard jumping up and down like a circus dog.
“Hurley!” she called, but the pooch ignored her. She used the cane to steady herself as she hobbled around the pool toward the mutt. As she got closer, she realized what had captured the dog’s attention. That crazy Mr. Cooper had his bony fingers crammed through a knothole in the wooden fence and dropped something in the grass.
“Stop that! Get away from there!” Sylvia screeched. But before she could get there, Hurley had nuzzled the ground and eaten whatever the old man had thrown down.
What had he done? Was he trying to poison the dog?
Sylvia’s maternal instincts kicked in. She threw down the cane and rushed over to get the garden hose. Turning it on full blast, she squeezed the nozzle and aimed it just over the top of the fence.
“What in tarnation are you doing?” the old man growled.
She saw his beady eye behind horn-rimmed glasses peek through the knothole. She adjusted her aim and blasted him with water right in the kisser. “Take that, you old coot!” she howled. “That’ll teach you to mess with the Sharpes!”
She could see him through the slats in the fence as he stormed off into his house and slammed his back door shut. Hurley seemed to think this new game was even more fun, as he jumped up and down trying to catch water in his mouth.
Sylvia turned off the hose and led the dog back inside. Just as she closed the door behind them, Hurley shook his whole body and sent droplets of water and the smell of wet dog across the den floor.
“Bad dog,” she said, but he paid her no mind. He wagged his tail and scratched at his dog bed. When it was just right, he lay down for his morning nap.
Sylvia wondered what she should do. If that evil man had tried to poison the dog, surely he would start gagging. If she had her Ipecac syrup, she could give him a dose and make him throw it up. It was doubtful Deena kept any in the house.
Sylvia’s foot throbbed and the boot was starting to rub a blister on her foot. She sat down in the recliner, deciding just to keep her eye on the dog. If he showed any signs of illness, she would call Gary. Before long, she was engrossed in her show. When the commercials came on, she called Hurley’s name to see if he was doing okay. He raised his head and tilted it from side to side as if wondering what on earth she wanted.
She let out a sigh of relief and said, “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I’m the crazy one around here.”
Chapter 6
The old Victorian house that served as the law office of Ian Davis seemed to sway in the morning breeze. A new roof and shingles had really spiffed the old girl up. If only Ian would pony up for a
little landscaping, the place would look like something out of a magazine.
She went inside, nodded at Rob, and poked her head in her little office space. A thin layer of dust had settled on everything. She could take care of that later.
“What’s up?” she asked, sitting across from Ian Davis in his newly renovated office. “Do you have a case for me?”
Deena had begun working as an investigator for Ian earlier in the fall. So far, she had followed two cheating husbands and videotaped two shopping trips by a would-be insurance fraud. Luckily, the fraud turned out to be legit, and Ian was able to help the woman win her claim against the company. It was a fun alternative to her former career as a high school journalism teacher and helped supplement her income and keep her antique booth stocked.
Ian shifted back and forth in his desk chair, studying the writing on his yellow number two pencil. At last he said, “It’s not exactly a case, but maybe it is.”
Ian wasn’t usually so indecisive. He was generally sharp as a tack and a straight shooter. Something must have been bothering him. “Tell me what’s going on,” she said and pulled out her legal pad. She put on the new reading glasses she was trying to get used to wearing.
“I heard about how you found Ray Brewster dead on Saturday.” He tossed a folded newspaper in her direction. “It was also in this morning’s paper.”
“Really?” She opened it up. There it was on the front page of the Northeast Texas Tribune. She read the headline aloud: “Local Man Found Dead in Haunted House.” She skimmed the article. It was creepy to see her name listed as the “church member who found the body.” Stephanie and Charlie were referred to as Maycroft High School seniors. She looked back at Ian. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Nope. I’m just wondering.” He hesitated again. “What does your gut tell you about how Ray Brewster died?”
This was definitely not the topic she expected to be discussing with Ian. “Well, it looked like he had a heart attack. Either that or he drank himself to death.” She laid her pad and pen on the desk. “Why do you ask?”
“I—we—have a client who was about to file a restraining order against Ray Brewster. Obviously, that’s not going to be necessary now.”
Deena’s jaw dropped as she locked eyes with her boss. “You don’t think he killed—”
“She,” Ian said. “And I’m just wondering the same thing myself.”
“Have you said anything to the police?”
“No. Attorney-client privilege is at play here.” He swiveled in his chair.
Deena was dying to ask for the woman’s name, but she knew Ian would tell her when he was ready. “What are you going to do?”
“I took an oath to uphold the law, but I also have a responsibility to my client.”
“Yeah. Maybe you should just wait and see what the medical examiner says. If Ray died of natural causes, you don’t have to do anything.”
Ian jabbed the pencil at his legal pad, breaking the sharp point. “That’s a problem. You know that the election is next week, and Mayor Thornhill is trying to hold back a run on the office from Marty Fisk. Fisk is running on a platform of law and order. He’s holding Mayor Thornhill responsible for the increase in crime, especially murders. Therefore, Thornhill says he wants to waste a bunch of taxpayer money on increasing the police force instead of improving the parks and adding streetlights.”
“That seems like a waste of funds. The article in last week’s newspaper said overall crime on the mean streets of Maycroft was actually down.” Deena rubbed her shoulder that still ached from her fall.
“Consequently, the mayor is pressuring the DA’s office to hold someone responsible for Ray’s death so he can prove he’s tough on crime.”
“But who says Ray was murdered? Surely the autopsy results haven’t come back already?”
“Apparently the mayor knows a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy who works in the ME’s office. He thinks they are looking at poisoning as a possible cause of death.”
“Poisoning?” Deena leaned forward in her chair. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“They apparently found a prick mark on Ray’s hand that could have been from a needle used to inject a toxin.”
Deena shuddered. “That would seem to make your—I mean, our client more suspicious.”
“Exactly. For now, Detective Guttman is trying to keep his investigation on the down low, so it will be next to impossible to get information from him.”
“Then how did you find out about it?”
“I know a guy, who knows a guy...”
“I see,” Deena said, nodding. “So what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to start by finding out exactly what was going on between Ray and our client. She said he was harassing her, but I think there was more to it than that. She wasn’t forthcoming with the details.”
Deena’s back tensed. This client, whoever she was, was possibly guilty of murdering Ray Brewster and needed to pay for it.
That’s why Deena had gone to work part-time for Ian as an investigator: to help his clients get the justice they deserved. In this case, though, their client could be guilty and would deserve to spend her life in prison.
“So who is it?” Deena finally asked. She pictured a shady barmaid.
Ian pulled a manila folder out of his desk drawer and pushed it toward Deena. “She’s a party planner. Wendy Fairmont. Do you know her?”
BEFORE LEAVING IAN’S office, Deena called Wendy to say she needed to bring by some paperwork for her to sign. That wasn’t true, of course, but Ian typed up something that looked like an official document needed to close her request to file a restraining order against Ray. It did the trick, and Wendy agreed to meet with Deena at noon.
Could Wendy really be guilty of murder? Of course she could.
The last murder case Deena was involved in had stripped away her rose-colored glasses to reveal a world inhabited by people capable of anything. Her Pollyanna outlook on life was gone and replaced by one more suitable for a Stephen King novel. Gary had called her cynical, and maybe she was. She saw herself as just opening her eyes to the realistic side of life.
Not knowing how long her visit to Wendy would take, Deena decided to run by the house to check on Sylvia before getting too caught up in the investigation.
When she pulled into her suburb of Butterfly Gardens, she noticed a police car turning down her street. They were probably just patrolling the neighborhood. That’s what they paid taxes for, after all. When the cruiser pulled up in front of her house, Deena put on her brakes and stopped dead in the middle of the street.
What in the blazes could be wrong? They didn’t have their lights on, so it couldn’t be an emergency. Were they there to ask her more questions about Ray Brewster? That’s probably it, Deena decided as she pulled into her driveway.
Sure enough, Officers Hitchcock and Linndorf got out of their car and strode to talk to her.
“Howdy,” Hitchcock said and tipped his Stetson hat.
“Ma’am.” Linndorf touched a finger to his hat brim as well. “Seems like you’ve had quite a commotion over here this morning.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve been out this morning,” Deena said, fumbling with her house keys.
“We got a complaint from one of your neighbors about an old woman assaulting him this morning with—”
Before Linndorf could finish his statement, Edwin Cooper bounded across Deena’s front yard waving his arms and yelling, “Arrest her, Officer! She’s harboring a criminal.”
Deena squinted her eyes at Edwin. Had the man lost his mind?
“Now Mr. Cooper, we said we were going to handle this,” Hitchcock said. “You need to just go on back to your house before you make things worse.”
“Worse? How could they be any worse than what that woman did to me?” He pointed a trembling finger toward the house.
Deena opened the front door just in time to hear a bedroom door slam shut. “Sylvia!” she y
elled. “Get out here.” Deena stood in the doorway like a sentinel guarding a castle. “I don’t know what this is about, officers, but we need to get to the bottom of it.”
Sylvia rounded the hall corner, holding her cane and limping like she’d just been shot in the gut.
It wasn’t hard for Deena to see that she was going for sympathy. “Sylvia, what happened?”
Edwin flew toward the doorway. “I’ll tell you what happened. She turned the hose on me! That’s what happened.” He crossed his arms.
Hitchcock put his hand on Edwin’s shoulder and pulled him away from the door. “Is that true, ma’am? Did you purposely spray Mr. Cooper in the face with a hose?”
“Yes, but he deserved it. He was trying to poison our dog!”
Two things struck Deena about that statement. First, she never thought her mother-in-law would claim Hurley as “our dog,” and second, she couldn’t believe Edwin would try to harm a helpless pooch. Sure, he was a peeping Tom who liked hanging out and peering through their fence, but beyond that, he seemed perfectly harmless. She turned back to Edwin to see a look of disbelief on his face.
“Well, now,” Linndorf said, “that changes everything. Seems like this was just a nuisance call. We’re sorry to bother you lovely ladies today.” He removed his hat and tipped his head again. “We’ll just be having a talk with Mr. Cooper now so we can get back to our real police cases.” He shot a glance at his partner. “You ladies have a nice day. Looks like it’s going to be a clear night for Halloween.”
Hitchcock had Edwin by the arm and was leading him back to his house when Deena closed the door.
Sylvia, obviously still playing the helpless old lady card, limped toward the recliner in the den.
Deena counted to ten as she placed her purse and keys on the entry table. She hung her jacket on the back of a kitchen chair and followed Sylvia.
Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set Page 68
