The Pawful Truth

by Miranda James

  “Everything is ready,” I told her as we headed to the kitchen. Diesel walked right by her side. “Did something happen at the bistro this afternoon?”

  Helen Louise set down the cake plate and greeted Stewart before she answered my question. “I’ll say something happened.” She slipped off her jacket, and I took it from her. “I thought I might have to call the police because two men looked like they were going to fight, right there in the middle of the bistro.”

  “Good grief,” I said.

  “Anyone we know?” Stewart asked, his avid curiosity evident in his expression. He loved tidbits of gossip.

  Helen Louise glanced between us. “Yes, Carey Warriner and another man.”

  ELEVEN

  “Warriner?” I said, shocked.

  “Jeez,” Stewart said at the same time.

  “What were they going to fight over?” I asked, although I figured I knew the answer.

  “Irene Warriner,” Helen Louise said. “She was there with another man, and then her husband came in with another woman.” She laughed suddenly. “Since they were each with other people of the opposite sex, I can’t see what her husband got so het up about.”

  “Who was the other man?” I figured it was Dan Bellamy.

  “I don’t know him,” Helen Louise said, “but he looks either French or Italian. Very handsome. Dark wavy hair, tall, with dark eyes. He’s been in the bistro a couple of times, but I never managed to catch his name before.” She grinned at me, but I ignored this bit of teasing.

  Stewart and I exchanged glances. “Not Dan Bellamy,” he said. “I wonder who this guy is.”

  “I did overhear a name at one point tonight that sounded like d’Arcy,” Helen Louise said. “That was before I had to get between them to put a stop to such foolishness. You men are such silly creatures sometimes, acting like women are your personal property.” She grimaced.

  “Was Carey Warriner upset because his wife was out with another man?” I asked.

  At the same time Stewart asked, “Who was the woman with Warriner?”

  “One question at a time, if you please. And if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit down. I’ve been on my feet most of the day.”

  I hurried to pull out a chair for her. “Sorry, love, we got carried away by curiosity. You tell us your way, and we’ll be quiet.” I shot a pointed look at Stewart, who grinned back at me. He and I resumed our seats.

  “I’ll answer Stewart first,” Helen Louise said. “The woman with him was Barb Lamont. I know her slightly from church. I think she’s an English professor.”

  Stewart nodded.

  “Now, as to Carey Warriner,” Helen Louise went on. “His wife and d’Arcy, if that’s his name, arrived first and were seated at a table in the back corner. Warriner and Barb Lamont came in about ten minutes later. I don’t think they spotted one another right away, but Warriner happened to sit down at a table about ten feet away, facing in their direction. I was at the register at the time. The next thing I knew, Warriner was on his feet in front of the other table, yelling at d’Arcy.” She grimaced. “He was using ugly words, throwing out accusations. He was spouting invective so fast I couldn’t make out most of what he said. D’Arcy stood up and got right in Warriner’s face. He started yelling, too, and I couldn’t understand either one. That was when I went over and got between them. Henry came to help, and the women tried to tug on them, too. It was a mess.”

  “You shouldn’t put yourself between two men about to fight,” I admonished her. “You could have been hurt if one of them had swung at the other one.”

  Helen Louise snorted. “I’d like to have seen them try. I’d have decked both of them if I’d had the chance. You forget those years I spent in France, training as a chef. I had to dissuade many a Frenchman from trying it on with me.” She grinned suddenly. “I know I broke at least two arms while I was there.”

  Stewart and I laughed. Helen Louise, at six feet, was a formidable woman. I was barely an inch taller than she.

  “All right, then,” I said. “You could have handled them. Once you got them apart, what happened next?”

  “I asked them all to leave,” Helen Louise said. “Both women looked horribly embarrassed, and d’Arcy apologized profusely. He has the faintest accent, now that I think about it. Warriner still looked pugnacious, but both women grabbed an arm and pulled him out of the bistro. His wife looked ready to kill him, and poor Barb Lamont looked like she was ready to sink through the floor. D’Arcy slunk out after them.”

  Carey Warriner was obviously a hothead, if this incident was anything to judge by. There was also his unpleasant remark to poor Dixie Compton. Was there any connection between his temper and her suspicious death? The thought made me uncomfortable.

  “That was the end of it,” Helen Louise said. “It happened around four thirty, when a lot of customers drop by for coffee and croissants. Because of them I got a late start on the cake.”

  “I’m glad they didn’t start hitting each other,” I said.

  “They’d better be glad they didn’t, too,” Helen Louise replied, a martial gleam in her eye. Before she went to France to train as a chef, she had been a lawyer, and a successful one. No one trod on her toes and got away with it.

  “Enough of all that,” Helen Louise said. “How about some of Azalea’s beef stew? I’m famished.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Stewart said. “Would you like sweet tea or wine with dinner?”

  “Sweet tea,” Helen Louise said. “Time to please my inner Southern belle.”

  Stewart poured her tea, and I began to dish out the stew. Stewart next took the rolls out of the oven and plated them before he joined us at the table.

  I was determined to banish all thoughts of the Warriners and their domestic issues, as well as the death of poor Dixie Compton, from my mind while we chatted and enjoyed the meal. Stewart seemed to sense my resolve, because he didn’t bring up the suspicious death, either. Instead, we talked of various domestic things, including plans for tomorrow. Helen Louise was working at the bistro until two, and then she planned to come by to spend time with me and the grandchildren.

  While we ate, Stewart and I doled out bits of chicken to the two four-legged beggars who accosted us. Helen Louise occasionally joined in, and it wasn’t long before the supply of chicken disappeared. When they realized no more was forthcoming, both Diesel and Dante settled down and napped.

  Over coffee, we enjoyed Helen Louise’s delicious chocolate cake, and I finally broached the matter of Dixie Compton’s death. To begin with, for Helen Louise’s benefit, I mentioned her being in my class with Warriner and having talked to her about being her study partner. Then I shared what I had learned about her death.

  Helen Louise narrowed her eyes at that but surprisingly asked only one question: “So all you know is that she died under suspicious circumstances?”

  “Yes, Kanesha wouldn’t say anything else,” I replied.

  “I might be able to get more information out of Haskell,” Stewart said. “Although if Kanesha is bound and determined not to let Charlie know anything, he won’t tell me. He’s loyal to her, and I admire him for it.” He grinned. “Even when it frustrates the heck out of me because he doesn’t tell me the good bits.”

  “Good for him.” Though I couldn’t help but be curious about what had really happened to Dixie Compton, I knew that when, and if, Kanesha concluded that she had been murdered, we would know. In a town this size, sooner or later most people got to know about such things pretty quickly.

  “There is one more thing,” I said. “To do with Dixie Compton and Carey Warriner.”

  “What?” Stewart asked. “You mean you’ve been holding out on us? What else do you know?”

  “Give me a moment,” I said, “and I’ll tell you. It may not mean anything, but in light of what you told us, Helen Louise, it could have bearing on Dixie
Compton’s death.” I related to them the incident between Warriner and Ms. Compton that I’d overheard two days ago.

  When I finished, Stewart said, “Too bad you didn’t stay and listen to the whole thing. If Warriner was that angry with her for signing up for the class, he could have threatened her.”

  “Possibly,” I said. “I told Kanesha this, and now it’s up to her to question Warriner.”

  Helen Louise nodded approvingly. “Sensible attitude. This is one you can stay out of, though I know you’re itching to find out exactly how the poor woman died.”

  “Yes, but not for prurient reasons,” I said.

  “I know that,” Helen Louise replied. “You met the woman, felt a little sorry for her, and now you feel a bit guilty because you turned down her request for help studying for the class. Am I right?”

  Stewart chuckled. “She’s got you pegged, Charlie.”

  I gave them a rueful smile. “That she does. Yes, I do feel a little guilty.” I shrugged. “I can’t explain it; it was simply a feeling I had while we were talking that she wanted something besides a study partner.”

  “I wonder if she was afraid something bad was going to happen to her,” Stewart said, his expression thoughtful.

  “I wonder what could have happened between her and Carey Warriner to have him accost her so angrily,” Helen Louise said. “Given the scene in the bistro tonight, I have to wonder if he’d had an affair with her and had broken it off.”

  “And she showed up in his class in a stalking kind of way.” Stewart nodded. “I can see that. Maybe she was angry he broke it off, and she didn’t want it to end.”

  “Let’s not turn this into some kind of Fatal Attraction scenario. She didn’t seem enamored of Warriner when she came to my office,” I said. “I grant you that an affair gone wrong between them is a quick and easy explanation for his reacting so angrily to her, and her being negative about him to me, but there must be other reasons. We don’t know anything about their personal lives. Maybe he owed her money, for example, and wasn’t intending to pay it back.”

  “So she showed up in his class as a reminder?” Helen Louise asked. “Possible, I suppose.”

  “There’s one other thing,” I said. “She had also enrolled in Irene Warriner’s course on early medieval literature, Old English, I think. She told me so.”

  “I wonder if Warriner was aware of that,” Stewart said.

  “I have no idea,” I replied.

  “Maybe Ms. Compton was truly interested in both subjects and simply wanted to further her education,” Helen Louise said. “It makes sense to take both courses together, to get a complete picture of early medieval English history and literature.”

  “It does,” I said. “And you’re right, she might have been interested in the subjects and wanted a degree in order to better herself.”

  “Warriner obviously had reason not to believe this, don’t you think?” Stewart asked. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have responded the way he did to her presence in his class.”

  “You know what I think?” Helen Louise said, and Stewart and I looked at her. “I think we’re spending way too much time talking about people we don’t really know. Make that wasting time,” she amended. “I’m ready to talk about something else.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “This gets us nowhere. So what should we talk about instead?”

  “You two are no fun,” Stewart said in mock protest. “Speculation is such an entertaining game.”

  “Yes, it is,” Helen Louise said, “but you can have too much of an entertaining game.” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Yes, ma’am, Miz Brady, ma’am,” Stewart said meekly.

  “I’ll bet you were a handful in elementary school,” Helen Louise said with a grin.

  “Naturally,” Stewart replied.

  “How about more coffee and cake?” I said.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Stewart held out his plate.

  We chatted a while longer while Stewart ate his second—or was it third?—piece of cake, then Helen Louise pleaded weariness and headed home. I walked her to the front door to bid her good night in private.

  After a satisfying kiss, she pulled back and said, “You will stay out of this one, won’t you, Charlie? I have a bad feeling about this, that there’s something nasty at work.”

  “Have you suddenly turned into Sean?” I said lightly. My son deplored my habit of becoming involved in murders. “I can assure you I have no intentions of having anything to do with this, other than answering Kanesha’s questions. After all, I know practically nothing.”

  “Good.” Helen Louise bent to scratch Diesel’s back, because he had, as always, accompanied us to the door. “You two have a good night, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she turned and headed to her car. I watched until she had safely backed up onto the street and driven away.

  I had every intention of doing exactly what I told Helen Louise I would do, but good intentions didn’t always hold.

  TWELVE

  I had always enjoyed weekends—family time for so many years. First, for my wife and me with our two children, and second, as a respite from the workweek. These days I looked forward to Saturdays because it meant time with the next generation, my two precious, adorable, incomparable grandchildren. Along with other members of the family, of course, but being a grandfather brought special joy.

  Sean and Alex dropped off Rosie a little earlier than they’d originally planned, but I did not complain as it meant more time with my little girl. Alex hovered for several minutes while Sean patiently waited for her to decide she was ready to leave her daughter in my care. Alex had improved significantly in the past few weeks, but I still saw vestiges of her uncertainty over her abilities as a mother and hints of the depression that had worried us all. Finally she appeared calm and ready to go.

  “Have a wonderful afternoon,” I told them after kissing Alex’s cheek. “Rosie and I will do fine, and don’t forget, we have a backup nanny.” I indicated Diesel, who stood by my legs, watching every move I made with Rosie.

  “Helen Louise is coming over, too,” Sean reminded his wife.

  “Laura ought to be here with baby Charlie any minute,” I said. “Relax and enjoy yourself. You’ve earned an afternoon off.” I smiled at her.

  “You’re all so kind to me,” Alex said. “You’re right, Charlie, I do need a break.” She glanced at Sean. “So does my poor husband, all the hours he’s putting in to make up for my working only half-time at the moment.”

  “Not nearly as many hours as I had to put in every week when I worked for that corporate law firm in Houston,” Sean said. “This is fun by comparison.”

  “Shoo, both of you,” I said. “Get going.”

  “Yes, Dad.” Sean took Alex gently by the arm and drew her toward the front door. “We should be back by five so you can make it to that thing at the bookstore.”

  “Thanks,” I called after them. Moments later I heard the door open and shut.

  Rosie yawned, and I took her to her crib in the living room and put her down for a nap. She had been fed not long before Sean and Alex brought her over, and she would sleep for a while now. Like her cousin Charlie, she was not a fretful baby now that her problems with colic had subsided. For that I frequently gave thanks. At my age I wasn’t sure I was up to the task of dealing with one cranky infant, let alone two at the same time.

  Diesel stretched out on the floor beside Rosie’s crib, and I knew he would keep watch. At the first sign of any kind of distress he would let me know if I happened not to be nearby. I went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. Back in the living room I settled into a comfortable chair with my current book and began to read.

  Helen Louise arrived fifteen minutes later, followed quickly by Laura and baby Charlie. We put Charlie into his matching crib next to Rosie’s and removed
to the kitchen to talk. Diesel, the ever-faithful and alert baby monitor, remained in the living room. Before we left the room, however, I switched on the mechanical baby monitor as a backup to the feline one.

  Laura amused us with stories of baby Charlie’s crawling exploits and his attempts to pull himself up on various pieces of furniture. “I swear he’s going to be walking any day now,” she said. “He is so determined.”

  “He sounds a lot like you at that age,” I said. “You learned to pull yourself up pretty early on. Sean did, too.” I grinned at Helen Louise. “Both of them are strong willed and go after what they want.”

  Helen Louise and Laura exchanged a glance, then both of them fixed their gazes on me. “I think Sean and I came by it honestly, Dad,” Laura said. “You have been known to be pretty strong willed yourself, you know.”

  “Not to say hardheaded,” Helen Louise added.

  “Who, me?” I said in mock astonishment. “No, not me.”

  “Yes, you,” Laura retorted. “The second you sniff a mystery, off you go. You’re Frank and Joe Hardy rolled into one.”

  “I think this is an argument I can’t win,” I said.

  Helen Louise laughed and shook her head. “Don’t even try, Frankie Joe.”

  I groaned at the moniker, but Laura giggled. “Oh, I like that. Frankie Joe. I’ll have to tell Sean, Alex, and Frank about that. They’ll love it.”

  “On one condition,” I said. “Just don’t tell Melba, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Maybe,” Laura said. “I’ll think about it.”

  I decided that I’d better introduce a new subject before the conversation went any further along these lines. “So what’s the latest in the theater department?” That question never failed to get my daughter talking, and it did not fail now.

  Laura regaled us with various tidbits about the odd behavior of several of her colleagues and some of the inner workings of the department until Diesel appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and meowed. Not a sound of distress or concern, simply an announcement, I decided. One or both of the babies must now be awake. I followed him back to the living room to find Charlie sitting up in his crib. The moment he saw me he raised his arms and made a garbled sound that I interpreted as either up or out. Rosie did not appear disturbed by this. She still slept.