Rags wandered over to the spot and surveyed the lawn around it, even brushed the grass blades with his toe. He didn’t seem to find anything. It was reassuring that he was so thorough that he even checked the soil beneath the lawn.
His attention zeroed back on me. “Anything else going on that I need to know about?”
“I guess you should know that my daughter and I drove up to the Stafford home to learn more about Randal Thornton’s connection with them. I believe he sold Edgy drugs supplied by them. Then Bev Stafford came here with the pretense of having a cup of coffee, but she really wanted to threaten me not to say anything about their family business. She even showed me the handle of a gun in her purse as a warning.”
He rubbed his chin in a way that clearly conveyed that he wanted to tell me that going up to the Staffords’ had been a stupid thing to do. “That’s all I need for now. I’ll be in touch.” He left swiftly, leaving me with the feeling that someone was finally on my side. I should have taken Marley’s advice and talked to Mr. Bassett long before now. Somewhat at ease, I fired up the mower and finished the lawn as knots in my shoulders tightened. I didn’t stop but once to listen for anything unusual. I hadn’t realized just how uptight and wary I had become.
Around six that evening, I needed to do something, anything, besides wait for the hammer to fall. I went downstairs to the laundry room and turned on my old feel-good-rock tape. I set the iron to cotton temperature and picked up a shirt from the small pile of ironing on the utility table. I swayed with the beat of the song as I ran the iron over the fabric.
“Are you down there?”
I jumped liked I’d been shot. “Marley! You scared me to death,” I yelled back. “Come down here. I’m in the middle of ironing.”
Her footsteps slowly clomped downward. She crossed the room without saying a word, kicked off her work clogs, and flopped into an old recliner I had kept for no good reason. Her deep blue scrubs were spotted with who knows what, and she appeared frazzled, sleepy, and despondent.
“Tough day in the ER?”
“I want half of whatever you’re cooking for dinner.”
“Just frozen pizza, but I can toss a salad and give you a can of beer. There’s a fresh container of vanilla ice cream in the freezer and maybe a can of crushed pineapple in the pantry. Salted peanuts, too.” I tilted my head. “A little caramel on top?”
Marley grinned. “You just saved the day.”
“And you work too hard.”
“Wouldn’t have to if people would stop and think once in a while. Had a near-drowning victim today, couple of broken bones of a fallen rock climber, and the worst was a leg almost severed with a chainsaw. That’s just to name a few.” She sighed as if she’d survived a war. Then she looked closer at me. “You seem calmer than I’ve seen you in a while.”
“I finally did what you’ve been pestering me to do.” I ran the iron over a sleeve of my plaid shirt.
“And?”
I pressed the other sleeve. “Hired a lawyer. Mr. Timothy P. Bassett now has an investigator checking out Lester Fitch, the Smiths, and Randal. You were right. I do feel somewhat protected now.” I hung the shirt on a hanger, giving her time to absorb the fact that I had finally done what she’d been telling me to do.
She raised her hands and looked toward the ceiling. “Thank you.” She looked back at me. “I knew you’d feel better if someone was on your side besides Patrick and me. That’s what was good about Dad. He stood between us and any trouble we faced. I miss his butting into everything.”
I smiled at her as if she was still my feisty sixteen-year-old, fighting Mel’s overprotectiveness tooth and nail. “We all miss him in our own way. I’ve come to believe my missing your father led to the mess I’m in now.”
Marley sat up quickly, head cocked, listening. “What was that?” she whispered.
I tightened and whispered back, “What did you hear?”
“Sounded like the back door closing.” She jumped up and ran upstairs. I followed at her heels. The kitchen door was shut and the room was empty.
Marley hurried to the door. “It isn’t locked. I came in the front door and I relocked it.”
“I’m sure I locked it.” I peeked out the window and didn’t see anything moving, not even leaves in the trees. “Maybe you were hearing things.”
Marley zinged a disgusted look at me. “I heard something. Stay here.” She skimmed up to the bedrooms two stairs at a time. I kept watch standing on the bottom step, counting the doors Marley opened and then closed with a bang. One. Two. Three. Four. She reappeared at the top and shrugged.
“I don’t know what you heard,” I said.
She loped down the stairs.
“Will you quit running? Get a beer and sit down.”
“I swear something thudded.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a brown bottle of craft beer from a microbrewery.
“Old houses make noises, but I promise to be more vigilant and keep the doors locked.” I turned the oven knob to 425 degrees and got a pizza from the freezer.
Marley swigged the beer and wiped her mouth. “You know, Mom, I’m just beat. Can we cut the frozen pizza in half and I’ll cook it at home?” She blinked. “Is that even legal?”
I got out the cleaver and pressed the blade slowly through the frozen crust.
Marley stood beside me watching my every move. “What did the investigator do?”
“Goes by the name Rags. Don’t know why, but he rubbed the toe of his tennis shoe in the grass all around the bare spot where the tree used to be. He’s hyperaware of everything around him in a weird kind of way.”
“That’s strange.”
“Maybe so, but I liked him. He’s inquisitive and easy to talk to.”
Marley pressed her lips together to stop the laughter rising up. I could tell by the sparkle in her hazel eyes, casting blue from the color of her scrubs. “So, you were checking out the private investigator? Is he cute?”
“Will you be serious?”
“I hope you told him about us going up the Forest Service road and those loggers running us off.”
“Yes, I did. I also liked the lawyer. He seemed smart and caring. Pretty sure he’ll sniff out all the answers before he asks anything in court.”
“You make him sound doglike.”
“He fits his name or his name fits him. Can’t decide which. I know I’m talking silly, but it helps control my need to scream.”
“Why scream? You have help now.”
“Because I’m on a roller coaster of emotions. Mostly, I’m jumpy as hell. Being suspected of murder does that to a person.”
Marley grew quiet as she leaned a hip against the cupboard. After a long moment, she finally met my eyes. “I have news,” she said, as if the news might make me unhappy.
“Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Before I left work, I signed divorce papers online. Can you believe legal papers can be done like that? Electronic signatures. I signed my husband away without touching a pen or him. Helluva thing.”
“Sorry.” I wanted to hug her, but she would break down if I showed too much sympathy. For now, I’d let her build a wall around the hurt. Eventually, we’d tear it down together.
She shrugged bravely. “It’s over and done with. I’m driving to Great Falls to pick up my stuff. Would you come with me and drive my car back home? I’ll need to rent a truck or van to haul what I want to keep.”
“I think I’ll need permission to leave.”
“Oh, poo,” Marley said. “I’ll call Bruce and tell him we’re going on my next days off. I’ll probably need to rent a storage unit.”
“If you think your sad face is going to make me tell you to store your things here, it isn’t working.”
“I thought you loved stuff.”
“I do, but moving things to your apartment made me realize it’s good to let things go. Especially since I live with a hammer hanging over my head and it’s about to strike.”
“One minute I’m calm, the next my mind is whirling. I know I should feel better now that I have a lawyer and investigator, but I’m still paranoid. I can’t help it.”
She appeared to shrink deeper into herself as if she didn’t like what we were discussing. “Why would they arrest you when you haven’t done anything wrong?”
“You and I know that, but our esteemed commander of detectives doesn’t know it. I just hope they send Detective Langnecker when they come for me.”
“You’re morbid.”
“Everything I’ve told them has landed on suspicious ears. Something bad is about to happen.”
Marley rubbed between her tired eyes. “Very bad has already happened. Edgy is gone, Lester is gone, Fred is moving, your friend Randal left. You’ve lost a lot in just over a month. No wonder you’re nervous. Our trip to Great Falls will get you away from all this for a couple of days.”
“If I’m not arrested first.”
Marley shot me her look, the one that killed negative thoughts. I laughed at her.
“I gotta get some sleep.” She kissed my cheek. “Thanks for the pizza and beer.” She left without eating any ice cream.
I checked the doors to make sure I had remembered to set the locks. I pulled all the shades and thanked the heavens I was tucked safely inside my home with only the normal creaks to remind me of the age of the house.
I climbed the stairs and checked under my bed for the rifle. Loaded and locked, it lay within easy reach. Before I shut the drape for the night, I scanned the backyard. Dusk had settled, but it was still light enough to see. Everything looked calm. I closed the curtain but left the window cracked to allow cool air currents to come inside. I snuggled into my sheets and picked up the novel I was reading about a bear mauling in Glacier Park. I finished one paragraph before I set it down, listening to the sounds coming through the window. A night owl called to his mate. It sounded sad, or maybe I just thought so. The motion light on Ida’s garage came on, then went off as I strained to hear.
Oh, damn. I had forgotten to turn off the sprinkler in the rose bed.
Chapter 25
I peeked out the kitchen door into an evening softened to a roseate gray. Patches of sunlight still touched the tips of the mountains, but the valley was darkening for the coming night. A surprisingly cool breeze brushed my arms. I liked this reminder of the change of season. Fall was on its way.
I rubbed my arms as I studied the trees but couldn’t spot any motion in their dark shade. Ida’s back screen door closed with a soft slap. A garage door across the street rattled open, its light flicking on. A couple of kids on skateboards clattered down the sidewalk, the rollers clacking against each seam in the cement. Someone nearby had teriyaki chicken on the grill. I breathed deeply, my mouth watering. I would cook that soon. My thoughts of food enhanced my awareness of my yard. I scanned the dark shadows. Nothing looked unusual or out of place. How could I let my mind run over trivial things? Maybe it was a guard against going insane with depression. I banished my overly cautious notion of doom and scurried across the backyard to rescue my drowning roses. I shivered, then twisted the handle of the water spigot, inhaling the aura of my moisture-laden flowers as the flow of water slowly shut down.
Clink.
What was that? I halted, my senses on high alert. The sound seemed to have come from the shed. Something rattled. Maybe the galvanized bucket. Instantly, every vigilant nerve of mine tightened. I strained to hear.
Another chink.
“That blasted cat got in the shed again,” I mumbled to myself. Damn that Felix for sneaking in there all the time. How long had he been locked inside this time? I creaked the door open until it caught on the uneven floor planks.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” I stepped into the musty gloom and bent down, looking into the blackness under the table for cat eyes. “Kitty, kitty.”
A hand touched my shoulder. I jumped as if I’d been shocked.
“Corinne, it’s me.”
“Fred?”
He stood there, his hand outstretched. In the shadows, his usually calm features were hidden behind an inexplicable expression, as if asking my pardon was beyond him, too complicated. He leaned forward a bit, and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times. His breathing sounded labored, as if he was battling strong emotions. He bent over like he was trying to rid himself of whatever horror was in his mind.
“Fred! You scared me to death. What’re you doing in my shed?”
He sighed in a dejected way. “Whirly Dog. I can’t find him.”
“What?” I hooked my hands on my hips, striving not to yell. “You left him with your sister in Missoula. Remember?”
“I did?” He narrowed his eyes with an edge of suspicion as if he couldn’t believe a word I had uttered.
“Fred. Are you all right?” I talked loudly, trying to break through his apparent confusion. “Come on, let’s get you home. You look way too tired. Maybe that’s why you’re mixed up.”
Fred pulled upright, coming to attention. “Maybe I wasn’t looking for Whirly.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nobody does.” His hands balled into fists. Malice laced his eyes. They darted back and forth, up and down, like he needed to hurt something, even if it was the walls or floor, anything, just to do harm. Then his fists relaxed and a strange, crafty look came over his face. His hand snaked out and grabbed my garden shears hanging from a nail. He did it quickly as if he thought I wouldn’t see. Then he snapped the blades together.
Click-click. Click-click. He studied the blades in a weird sort of way.
Leave now! I fought the urge to duck and run. Instead, I slowly backed toward the doorway, my right hand brushing across the worktable searching for something, anything I could grab. The tips of my fingers touched the base of the wasp spray I had left there that afternoon.
Fred hunched closer, face flushed and drawn as if he was about to pass out from lack of sleep. “Where are you going? You just got here.” His words carried the bewilderment showing in his face.
My heart ached at his pain. “Fred, you’re scaring me. We need to get you help.”
“For what?”
“You haven’t slept, have you?”
“How in the hell do you expect me to sleep. My girl’s gone!”
I inched away one slight movement at a time, trying not to jolt him into action. I clutched the wasp spray as I went.
He grabbed for my arm the same moment I triggered the insecticide and sprayed it into his face. I spun, darted out the door, and fled for the house.
Banging, crashing, and cursing echoed from the shed. I raced hard for the back door and cleared the porch steps in a dead run. The shed door slammed against the wall as I charged inside the kitchen and threw the deadbolt. My cell lay on the counter. Heart pounding, I seized it and darted for the stairs—for the rifle in my bedroom.
Window glass broke. The kitchen door crashed. I ran harder up the risers. My left foot caught on a step. I pitched forward, grabbed for the banister, and fought for balance.
Fred’s harsh breathing and lumbering footsteps shook the house. “Damned stupid to run upstairs! I gotcha now!”
I cleared the landing, sprinted down the hall, slammed my bedroom door, and jammed home the lock. I palmed up the rifle from behind the bed ruffle, pushed the safety off, cocked it, and aimed it at the door.
Call 9-1-1. I lowered the rifle to my hip and held it pointing at the door with one hand. I thumb-swiped the face of the cell, touched the call icon, then called 9-1-1.
Fred kicked the door. It held. He kicked again, punching through a wood panel. It splintered, and his leg appeared in the opening. He pulled it back and hit the wood hard with his shoulder, and the rest of the door sprang loose and slammed against the wall.
“Corinne Cooper,” I yelled at the phone, then dropped it and shouldered the rifle, aiming at Fred’s heaving chest as he breached the opening a
nd stepped into the room. “Go home, Fred! Take another step and you’re dead!”
He stopped in midstride and laughed without mirth. “Corinne, you’re such an idiot.” His chest heaved for gulps of air, and his spray-reddened eyes leaked tears.
I raised the rifle barrel higher, pointing it right at his mouth. “Don’t ever call me dumb.”
He laughed again, only harsher. “I always told Edgy you were too stupid for your own good. Look at you standing there giving orders instead of pulling the trigger. You can’t, and you know it.”
I tightened my finger on the trigger. “You want to bet your life on it?” Adrenaline jittered in me, but my aim was steady and dead on.
Fred raised his hands, palms out, as if to surrender. “I had to kill Edgy because of your unbelievable stupidity, so damned horny to get a man in your bed. Edgy got killed over that. What makes you think I won’t kill you, too?”
“You’re crazy with grief. You couldn’t kill Edgy. Not the way you loved her.”
“See what I mean. Brainless. You made her take you to that night club. Exposed her to her wild side. Let the genie out of the bottle after I worked so hard to lock it away. Betting on a pool game was like a narcotic.” He scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. He blinked and then shot hatred at me.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I yelled.
If looks could kill.
I tensed. Two steps, and he could easily yank the rifle from me.
Fred didn’t move. “And a fight in a church?” He sneered, “Poor thing stewed on that until I knew she’d never let it go.” He stepped back a little and sagged against the doorframe. “Do you have any notion in your empty head how it hurts to watch your wife buy drugs from a creep like Randal in the parking lot of a goddamned bingo parlor, of all places? And then she runs from me? Yes, that’s right. I followed you two so I could keep her safe. I knew you wouldn’t.” He shuddered, fighting to breathe, face flushed and eyes filled with malice. You stupid woman. You didn’t even see what you unleashed.”
Pass out. Pass out. I didn’t want to pull the trigger. The barrel dipped a little. I took a firmer grip on the heavy rifle, shoved the stock into my shoulder and locked my stance to guard against a sudden leap to seize the rifle. It would happen quick, but I was ready. I pressed my finger on the trigger almost to the point of firing.
Blame the Car Ride Page 22