Haunting Harold

by Jenna Bennett

  “I’m sure you would. But this is my job, so let me do it.”

  He hustled me toward the door, staying between me and the road. Edwina, meanwhile, wandered out into the middle of the grass and squatted.

  “The dog—” I began.

  “Can take care of herself.” He didn’t pause, just kept me moving toward the front door. Once I was safely inside, he turned and whistled for Edwina. “Come on, dog.”

  “It’s a wonder she likes you,” I said, “the way you talk to her.”

  He grinned. “I’m irresistible.”

  I wanted to correct him, but I couldn’t. So I looked around instead. “All safe?”

  He nodded, waiting for Edwina, as she trotted back toward the door.

  “I spoke to Heidi while you were inside,” I informed him. “She got home safe, and she didn’t tell anyone but Gwendolyn and Jacquie that she and I were going to meet Tara tonight.”

  “Or so she says,” Mendoza said, shutting the door behind the dog as she passed between us.

  Or so she said. But assuming she was telling the truth— “I don’t see either Gwendolyn or Jacquie running around with a rifle taking potshots at me. Or at least I don’t see Gwendolyn doing it. Jacquie probably wouldn’t grieve if I ended up dead, but there isn’t enough profit in it for her to do anything about it herself.”

  Mendoza nodded.

  “If she’s still dating Nick, I guess she might have sent him. But again, not really much of a payoff for them. And I don’t see them killing me just because I was married to David when he died, and Jacquie wasn’t. It wasn’t my fault.”

  Mendoza nodded again. “Want me to stay?” he asked.

  The question totally derailed my train of thought, and for a second I just stared at him, my mouth slightly open.

  He stared back, those chocolate brown eyes steady on mine.

  “No,” I said eventually. “I feel safe.”

  A corner of his mouth curved up, but he didn’t say anything. Not about that. “Call if you change your mind,” he said instead, and turned toward the door.

  I told him I would, and then I locked and bolted the door once he was outside. And looked at Edwina, who was panting at my feet while Mendoza descended the stairs and headed for his—or the police department’s—truck. “Did you hear that? Was that what it sounded like?”

  She didn’t answer, just planted her butt and began whining as the truck lights came on and the vehicle started down the driveway to the street.

  * * *

  It was close to eleven by the time my phone finally rang. By then I was in bed, if not asleep, and still trying to figure out whether Mendoza’s offer to stay had been a pass, or just a detective doing his duty. When the phone rang, I thought it might be him, and my heart did a little dance in my chest. When I rolled over and looked at the display, I saw that it was even better.

  “Zachary!” Finally. “Are you OK?”

  “Fine,” Zachary’s voice said from far away. “It took this long to follow her home.”

  “You followed her?” How had he gotten out of the cordon Mendoza set up around Harold’s office? And how come we hadn’t seen him?

  “That’s what you wanted me to do, wasn’t it?”

  He didn’t wait for me to answer, just went on. “Are you OK? I heard the shots, and then I saw the Beetle, and I figured you’d rather have me follow it than stop to make sure you were all right.”

  “You saw the Beetle?” How?

  “Of course I saw the Beetle,” Zachary said. “I wouldn’t have left otherwise.”

  “Are you sure it was the right Beetle?”

  Because according to our scenario—mine and Mendoza’s—the yellow Beetle (and Tara) should have been up on top of the hill across the street shooting at me at that point.

  “It came around the corner at the same time as the shots,” Zachary said. “I just caught a glimpse of it before the car made a U-turn and went back the way it came. So I followed.”

  I must have been too preoccupied with staying alive, and with Mendoza coming to the rescue, to notice.

  “And you’ve been following her this whole time?” There’d been enough time for her to drive halfway to Knoxville by now.

  “She stopped for a while on the next block,” Zachary said. “We spent at least thirty minutes sitting in a restaurant parking lot there while she tried to figure out what was going on. When the cop car with Mrs. Newsome in it left, I thought we might be following that, but she stayed. Finally, when you and Mendoza left, she did, too.”

  “She followed us?”

  “All the way home,” Zachary confirmed. “You didn’t notice either of us, did you?”

  I hadn’t. It hadn’t even occurred to me to look. I wondered whether Mendoza knew that we’d had a tail. But no, if he’d known that Tara was back there, surely he would have done something to stop her, instead of going inside my house to make sure it was safe for me.

  “When you drove up to the house,” Zachary said, “she went on, so I did, too. I figured Mendoza had it covered.”

  “He checked the house. Then he left.”

  “Do you want me to let him know I tailed Tara home,” Zachary asked, “or do you want to?”

  I hesitated. “Better if you do it, I think.”

  “Better, how?” Zachary wanted to know. “He’ll probably want to go talk to her.”

  Probably. And I’d be stuck here, since I didn’t have a car. Unless I could talk Mendoza into coming back to get me. And I wasn’t sure I could.

  If I left this notification up to Zachary, Mendoza might try to cut me out entirely.

  “I changed my mind,” I said. “I’ll call him. Give me the address.”

  Zachary rattled it off, and I wrote it down. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  “Stand by,” I told him. “If Mendoza wants to go over there tonight, I might need you to come pick me up. My car got towed.”

  “I’ll head your way, then. Let me know what he says.”

  He disconnected, and I found Mendoza’s number in my contacts and dialed.

  He picked up on the first ring, and I could tell from his voice that he was amused. “Mrs. Kelly.”

  “Zachary called,” I said, before he could form the wrong idea about why I was calling, and ask me if I’d changed my mind about having him spend the night. “He figured out where Tara Cullinan lives.”

  There was a second while Mendoza switched gears. Or maybe that wasn’t what he was doing. Maybe he was just processing the news and deciding what to do with it.

  “How?”

  “She was there,” I said. “Zachary saw the Beetle and followed it.”

  There was no sense in mentioning that they’d both followed us. It was obvious that Mendoza hadn’t noticed them, and no point in telling him that he’d dropped the ball.

  “He called you?”

  “He’s on his way here now, to pick me up. I thought you might want to go over there tonight.” And I didn’t want to be left out.

  Mendoza hesitated. I imagined him glancing at the time. I also imagined him naked under a sheet, but I won’t dwell on that. “No,” he said.

  No? “Are you sure? What if she noticed Zachary behind her, and she’ll be gone by tomorrow morning?”

  “She won’t,” Mendoza said.

  “How do you know? If she tried to shoot at me earlier, and she’s afraid we’re on the trail, it would make sense for her to clear out.”

  “It’s late,” Mendoza said.

  Well, yes. It was. But— “Not that late.”

  He sighed. “I’ll go over there tomorrow morning. If you want to show up then, I can’t stop you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, although between you and me, I wasn’t too sure about this development. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Fine. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” Mainly because it didn’t seem like something he’d do—choose to stay in bed while a suspect may be packing up and leaving—but maybe
he knew something I didn’t. “Do you want the address?”

  “Yes,” Mendoza said. “Give it to me.”

  I gave it to him, and assumed he wrote it down. “When should I be there in the morning?”

  “Early,” Mendoza said. “I’m planning to be there by seven, just in case the girl starts school early and the aunt drives her there.”

  “I’ll see you by seven, then.”

  “Sleep well, Mrs. Kelly.”

  He disconnected. I put the phone down and got out of bed and put my clothes on, and then I went downstairs to wait for Zachary.

  He pulled up the driveway some ten minutes later. As he came to a stop outside the front door, I went out to meet him.

  “Go on in. Stay with Edwina. Do you mind if I borrow your car?”

  He blinked at me from the driver’s seat, cute and red-headed and nineteen. “Why?”

  “Because Mendoza said he isn’t going over there tonight, and I don’t want to run the risk of her packing up and clearing out while we’re all asleep. This way, I can at least notify Mendoza if she goes somewhere else.”

  “I can do it—” Zachary began, but I shook my head.

  “You’ve done enough. You’re still recovering. And you need a good night’s sleep. Go on in. You can take the room you used last week.”

  He looked torn. On the one hand, he appeared exhausted. I hadn’t been kidding when I said he was still recovering. The beating he’d taken had been severe, and he probably wouldn’t be back to normal for a few more weeks, or maybe even longer.

  But on the other hand, he did like to be in the middle of things.

  “Feel free to come with me,” I said, “if you want to. I’m not going to stop you. But I hope it’ll just be a night of sitting in the car outside the house… Is it a house? Or an apartment building?”

  “Half a duplex,” Zachary said.

  I nodded. “I’m hoping all I’ll be doing is sitting there until Mendoza shows up at seven tomorrow morning. You’re welcome to come. But I think you’ll be better off in a real bed, getting a real night’s sleep.”

  Zachary nodded. “I’ll take you up on that, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all. Lock the door behind you. Take Edwina into your room so she doesn’t wake you up later. I’ll be back in the morning. Or you can call Mendoza before six-thirty and ask him to come by and get you. Grab whatever you want from the kitchen.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Gina.”

  “You don’t have to thank me,” I said. “You earned your keep tonight. Good job.”

  “Thanks.” He grinned tiredly. “See you tomorrow.”

  “See you then,” I told him, and fitted myself into the seat of the ratty compact while he headed for the door.

  * * *

  The duplex turned out to be a twenty minute drive from Hillwood. Across town on Harding Place, then south on Nolensville Road to Tusculum. By the time I got there, to a two-story duplex in a residential neighborhood, it was almost midnight.

  I drove slowly past the duplex. All the lights were out, and the yellow Beetle was parked in the driveway. Every other house on the block looked mostly the same. A middle-class neighborhood, where people got up in the morning and went to work. Here and there, there was the flicker of a television behind drawn curtains, but mostly, everyone looked like they were in bed.

  Across the street, a matching duplex sported a For Rent sign in the window. I pulled into the empty driveway and turned off the lights and engine. And prepared myself to stay awake for the next seven hours, until Mendoza got here.

  There was no sign of life from the duplex, and not much in the way of life up and down the rest of the street, either. A black cat slinked along the sidewalk and disappeared into a yard. The flicker of the television turned off in the house three doors up, and the front door opened. A medium-sized dog ran out and squatted, and ran back inside. The door shut, and it was so quiet I could hear the sound of the deadbolt hitting home.

  After about ten minutes, though, a pair of headlights came around the corner and up the street.

  I shrank down in my seat as a beefy truck rolled by, slowly. Up at the next intersection, it made a wide U-turn and came back down. I narrowed my eyes as it drew to a stop across the street from the duplex, just about twenty feet from where I was sitting.

  Chapter 14

  Damn Mendoza. Telling me to stay home in bed, while all along, he was planning to come here.

  I opened the door silently and slinked out of Zachary’s car. There was no point trying to hide, though. By the time I approached the truck, I heard the sound of the doors being unlocked. It was probably my imagination, but I thought the sound was resigned.

  I was grinning when I pulled the door open. “Evening, Detective. Imagine meeting you here.”

  “Mrs. Kelly.” If the sound of the locks unlocking hadn’t been resigned, Mendoza’s voice definitely was. “What are you doing here?”

  “Doing the job you told me you weren’t going to do,” I said, boosting myself up onto the seat next to him. During the couple of hours since I’d last seen him, he’d changed into sneakers, faded jeans, and a sweatshirt. “You look comfortable.”

  He looked across at me—jeans, boots, coat—but didn’t comment.

  “You lied to me,” I said. “You told me you weren’t coming down here.”

  “I don’t think I said that. You asked me if I wanted to go over here, and I said no.”

  “So…?”

  “I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay in bed.”

  “But you drove here anyway. And you gave me the impression that you weren’t going to.”

  He shrugged.

  “Liar,” I said. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

  His mouth quirked. “My pants are fine.”

  Yes, they were. Not that I was supposed to notice that.

  “If I had known you were going to sit out here,” I said, “I would have stayed in bed.”

  “Go home,” Mendoza answered. “I’ve got it covered.”

  Well, yes. And I had a car. I could be home and in bed by one. But— “What if you fall asleep?”

  “I won’t fall asleep. This isn’t my first stakeout, Mrs. Kelly.”

  “Fine.” I turned on my side and curled up. “Wake me in three hours. That way you can get some sleep, too.”

  He didn’t answer, and my eyes were closed, but I could hear him sigh. I pretended I hadn’t heard it, and after a second, he reached behind the seat and grabbed something. A moment later, something soft descended on me. “It’s going to get cold.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked, without opening my eyes.

  “I’ve got another one.” He rustled around some more. When I peered out, he had dug up another blanket and was spreading it over his lap. “Sweet dreams.”

  I burrowed my chin into the leather seat and went to sleep.

  * * *

  ”Rise and shine, Mrs. Kelly.”

  When I opened my eyes again, it was dawn. The sun was brightening the horizon behind the trees to the east.

  “This isn’t three o’clock,” I said.

  Mendoza shook his head. “It six-thirty.”

  “You were supposed to wake me at three so I could keep watch for a few hours and you could get some sleep.”

  He finished bundling up the blanket he’d had over him, and shoved it out of sight behind the seat. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “I would have been responsible,” I protested.

  He smiled. “I’m sure you would have been. But I have to do it myself. That’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”

  Fair enough. Although the fact that I’d been asleep for more than six hours, while he’d stayed awake, watching, was a little disconcerting. I sat up and pushed the blanket down. “I didn’t snore, did I?” Or drool, or anything else embarrassing?

  “No.” He slanted a look my way. “Do you know that you talk in your sleep?”

  “Oh, God.” I felt myself
turn pale. “What did I say?”

  “Nothing important,” Mendoza said. “Although I’m pretty sure I heard my name in there. Between all the moaning.”

  My mouth dropped open, and it took me a second to hike my jaw up. “You liar!” That had to be a lie. If I’d dreamed about Mendoza, surely I would remember it.

  Wouldn’t I?

  He didn’t answer, just grinned. “Tic-Tac?”

  Great. I had morning breath. “Yes, please.”

  I cupped my hand, and he shook a couple of the small, white candies from the box into it, before he shook a couple more into his own. “I’d kill for some coffee,” he remarked, before he popped the Tic-Tac into his mouth.

  “Feel free to go get some. There’s probably a coffee shop down on the main road. Or a gas station, if nothing else.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what they pay me for, Mrs. Kelly.”

  Of course not. “I’d offer to go get us some,” I said, “but to be honest, I’d be afraid that you’d go knock on the door as soon as I leave.”

  There was a moment of silence while he definitely didn’t deny that. “Guess we’re at an impasse.”

  “Guess so,” I said, sucking on my Tic-Tacs, with my attention on the duplex across the street.

  Mendoza’s attention was on me. “I don’t have to take you with me inside, you know. I’m the police. I can make you stay outside.”

  “Someone could shoot me,” I said. “And for that matter, someone could shoot you when you go in.”

  “That’s a good reason why maybe you should stay out here. So if someone shoots me, you can call for an ambulance.”

  “Nobody’s going to shoot you,” I said. “I’m the one who’ll be exposed out here, all by myself. And you’ll be so busy talking to Tara, you probably won’t even notice.”

  “No chance of that,” Mendoza said. “Fine. Come inside with me.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced at the front of the duplex. “Now?”

  “No time like the present.”

  “What if we wake them?”

  “All the better,” Mendoza said, and reached for his door handle. “If this woman shot Harold, and shot at you yesterday, the more off-balance we can keep her, the more likely she is to confess.”