Dagger in the Dahlias

by Dale Mayer

  “The police never found out,” he said. “And I don’t understand what difference it makes all these years later. They’re still dead.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t make any difference. Maybe it was an accident. Then again, maybe it wasn’t,” she said. “But it makes a difference since Penny still has no idea what happened to her brother-in-law.”

  The humor drained from his face. Hornby nodded. “I know George was completely cracked up about it. George and Johnny were close.”

  “They were close,” she said, “according to Penny. But were they close according to Johnny?”

  Hornby took a minute to process that; then he nodded. “Yeah, I think they were. Johnny hung on to George as the stalwart part of his world. Once their father passed away, it was just the two of them. He had a medallion he got from his father. He wore it all the time. Played with it sometimes around his neck. It was like a piece of his father that Johnny carried with him.”

  “We found that,” Doreen said. “We found it broken in the yard where he was last seen.”

  Alan just stared at her.

  She could see him withdrawing slightly inside. Was he looking down memory lane? “How much did he care about that medallion?” she asked.

  “He’d never take it off,” he said. “And I mean never.”

  She nodded. “So, considering we found the medallion—and we found his dagger too, by the way—we have to wonder what happened to Johnny.”

  “He was probably killed by a drug dealer,” Hornby snapped. “He was always trying to score drugs for us.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “But, in that case, there’d be a body.”

  “Not if the drug dealer was scared of what he’d done and decided to take the body and deep-six it somewhere.”

  “Deep-six it,” she said conversationally. “That sounds more like dropping it into the ocean.”

  “Considering we live by a lake,” he said in a dry tone, “I hardly think the ocean would come into play.”

  “Point taken,” she said with a big smile. “However, I think, after all this time, the body probably would have shown up again.”

  But then she remembered the vehicle she had just found with a little boy and the older man. “Unless he drowned in the lake inside a vehicle.”

  “In which case,” Hornby said, “it should have been his own vehicle because then he’d have made a clean getaway, and nobody would ever know what happened to him.”

  “True.” Stumped, she just stood here.

  “If you’re trying to find a killer,” he said gently, “you’re barking up the wrong tree. We were all messed up back then. Johnny was messed up back then. George was the mainstay in his life, but they fought all the time. Just like all brothers fight.”

  “Understood. Thanks for answering the questions.”

  He chuckled. “No problem. How about a cup of coffee?” He motioned his arm toward her kitchen.

  She hesitated, not really sure why.

  He saw the hesitation and chuckled. “I guess you’re Mack’s property then, huh?” He hopped up, gave her a mock salute, and walked away.

  Chapter 17

  Saturday Morning …

  The next morning Hornby’s words still burned a hole in Doreen’s head. She belonged to Mack. It wasn’t that it was right or wrong, just that such a complete connotation of ownership was too much like her marriage. She didn’t want any more of that in her life.

  To think somebody was making those kinds of insinuations, making a mockery of her friendship with Mack … well, it was just wrong.

  She stared gloomily out the window, wondering why the clouds always seemed to match her moods. “Too bad I don’t have the power to create sunshine everywhere,” she muttered, feeling off since her conversation with Hornby last night.

  She almost chuckled because plenty of self-help gurus out there would tell her, if she switched her mood, then everything around her would appear bright and sunny too.

  “Too bad I’m not of that ilk.” She poured her first cup of coffee and stepped out on the veranda. While she had outdoor furniture on both the veranda and the front porch—courtesy of Nan—Doreen wandered down the steps and across the backyard so she could look at the creek. Thaddeus wandered behind her, pecking away at various things on the ground. Goliath had raced ahead, dashing around like a crazy cat. Still, he was happy, so she could hardly begrudge him that moment. Mugs uncharacteristically moped alongside her.

  “What’s the matter, buddy? Didn’t you get enough sleep last night?”

  He didn’t bark or even woof. He didn’t pick up his pace. He just dragged his feet beside her.

  “Yeah, I kind of feel the same way today.”

  If anybody else heard her talking to all the animals like she did, they’d think something was wrong with Doreen. Maybe so. But the truth was, she preferred having her animal family around more than a lot of other people. Particularly that guy, Alan Hornby, from last night. She shouldn’t let his words get to her, but it was hard not to.

  She was still outside at the creek when she heard her phone ring. She’d left it on the kitchen table. She shrugged and said, “Tough. Whoever it is, they’ll have to call back.” It was probably Mack. And, for a perverse reason based entirely on Hornby’s conversation last night, she figured she would just let Mack wait. She wasn’t here to jump when he said jump.

  Immediately she felt terrible because it wasn’t his fault. “Come on, guys. Let’s go in and see what Mack wants.”

  She sipped her coffee as she walked back. The animals were all uncharacteristically silent now. In the kitchen, she picked up her phone. Sure enough, Mack had called. She called him back.

  When he answered, she said, “I was out in the garden.”

  “Good,” he said. “It’s Saturday. You should be enjoying yourself.”

  “When you don’t work Monday to Friday,” she said, “Saturday has as little meaning as Monday does.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing,” he said with a laugh.

  “Did you do anything with that medallion?”

  “I sent it to forensics,” he said. “Don’t forget. Just because the case has never been solved doesn’t mean it’s been forgotten.”

  “No, but you don’t have man-hours to keep putting work into these cases,” she said, “and that seems very sad and wrong too.”

  “We can’t take our efforts away from current crimes either,” he said.

  “I know. Budget, budget, budget.”

  “Exactly. You’re in an odd mood this morning.”

  She groaned. “Yeah, I had a visitor last night.”

  “What?” he cried out. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said. “It wasn’t an intruder. When I came home from Nan’s place, a car was in the drive, and nobody was on the front porch, so I went to the backyard to find a visitor sitting on my back steps.”

  “Were you expecting this person?”

  “No,” she said. “It was Alan Hornby. He wanted me to stop asking questions about Johnny’s disappearance.”

  The silence lasted on the phone for all of ten seconds, then Mack exploded. “What? Did he threaten you?”

  “I think he was almost flattering me. Maybe flirting a little. I’m kind of out of the game, so I’m not sure. But he did suggest we go into my house and have a cup of coffee together, which I not-so-politely declined,” she said with a note of humor. “Maybe he got the better part of that deal because it is still my coffee.”

  “Your coffee is great,” he said. “What else did he say?”

  “He doesn’t really know anything. He was in a vehicle with Susan, when a car sideswiped Johnny’s car ahead of them, and their buddies were run off the road.”

  “They saw a vehicle run the two guys off the road?”

  “That’s what the girlfriend told her uncle. But she’s dead, and her uncle Richie told Nan. Richie also told Velma, who is Hornby’s aunt, that I was asking questions. Then Hornby came over here to tell me to stop.
He also said he can’t remember anything about the accident, but, if he said they were run off the road back then, then that must have been what happened. Now he’s saying too much drugs and alcohol over the years have caused his memory to dim.”

  “Is that right?” Mack said in a dry tone. “I don’t doubt the drugs and alcohol have certainly had an impact on his memory, but, when you see your two good friends burn out in front of you, I highly doubt you forget that.”

  “Can you check the file and see if anything was mentioned about the car being run off the road?” She sighed. “Richie just told Nan about it, but that should have been something the cops were all over back then at the time of Susan’s statement.”

  “Sure, they would have been,” he said. “I can check and see what’s in the file. I don’t remember offhand. I’m not sure I saw anything about it actually.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said. “It’s been a long time, and memories slip. Maybe they didn’t see or say anything. Or it’s just a convenient excuse.”

  “That’s certainly possible.”

  “What are you doing today?” she asked.

  “Not sure yet,” he said. “I’m hoping to spend some time doing yard work, and I’ll visit my mom for a bit. I’ll drop by with the cash I owe you today.”

  “That would be good,” she said. “I need to go shopping again.”

  “Right. We were supposed to do pasta, weren’t we?” he asked in surprise. “Was that today?”

  “Maybe,” she said, “if that’s okay with you.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll go shopping and pick up what I need. It slipped my mind. I’m really sorry about that,” he said, his tone apologetic and surprised at the same time.

  She understood how he felt. Normally he was very good at remembering things like that. “It’s no biggie,” she said. “What time do you want to eat?” She checked the clock. “It’s early, not even nine o’clock yet.”

  “We’ll plan on pasta for dinner tonight. If you want to come with me, we can go shopping now. I could drop the stuff and you back off, then go about my day, whatever that’ll be, and come back later this afternoon. We can cook then.”

  She brightened. “That might not be a bad idea because then I can see what you buy too.”

  “Right. I tend to forget shopping is something you’re not used to either.”

  “Unless it’s for one-thousand-dollar shoes,” she said in a dry tone.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I’ve had a few of those.” She groaned. “I wish right now I had all that money back in my pocket.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry you’ve had to reassess how you live.”

  “I hear you, but I’m much better off where I am,” she said. “Much happier.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll swing by in about twenty minutes.”

  Just enough time for another cup of coffee. She poured herself a second cup and put on a piece of toast. “Getting a little low on peanut butter here, guys.” She wandered around, making a short list of a few necessities, like toilet paper. She raised her eyebrows at the single roll left. “That ain’t happening.”

  She could use treats for Mugs. And, after all the omelets, she needed more eggs. But thankfully Mack had bought the last ones anyway. She didn’t have much in her fridge, so she could definitely use more cheese and sliced meat. Sandwiches were a standard she thankfully loved.

  As soon as she was done, she grabbed her purse and walked to the front door. “Mugs, I have to leave you behind, buddy.”

  He woofed several times. He hated being left behind. Maybe because he thought Goliath would pick on him; she didn’t know. She reset the alarm and stepped out the front door, locking it.

  She walked down to the end of the driveway just as Mack pulled in. She hopped into the front of his truck and said, “Mugs is not happy.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing for him to get used to being alone for a little while.”

  “Maybe not,” she said, “but I worry he’ll turn the fancy furniture into toothpicks.”

  At that, Mack laughed. “That image is a good way to start the day.”

  “Good for you,” she said. “I woke up feeling like the world was against me, and no sunshine was left anywhere.”

  “Do you think it was because of Hornby’s visit last night?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I feel like people are lying to me, lying to everyone else. I really think Johnny is dead, and people know more than they’re letting on.”

  “Who is it you think is lying?”

  “Hornby, for one,” she said. “But I’m not sure which part he’s lying about.”

  Mack drove straight to the grocery store and hopped out. Doreen got out on her side, once again remembering Hornby’s words about her being Mack’s possession.

  When he grabbed a cart and waited for her, she realized they were acting like any normal couple, and anybody outside their circle would assume they were dating. A part of her really liked that, but another part worried she and Mack were giving the wrong impression. Still, it wasn’t her fault that others just assumed something.

  As they wandered through the grocery store, she stopped in front of the fresh vegetables, looking for her salad and sandwich stuff. She picked up a head of lettuce, some radishes, green onions, cucumbers, and tomatoes. Happy with that, she turned to watch Mack in surprise as he grabbed carrots, celery, lots of tomatoes, and something dark and leafy.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  He looked at the big leaves in his hand. “This is kale.”

  She nodded. “I’ve heard of kale shakes and kale chips, but I didn’t think it would look like that.”

  “This is what it looks like,” he said. “This is the black kind, but it’s always nice to have a bit of green veggies.”

  “You mean, black veggies,” she said with a smirk.

  He nodded.

  She put her groceries in the top little basket, and he filled the base. She wasn’t even sure what to do with half of the vegetables he put into his part of the cart. She found herself wondering if she should get her own. “Am I taking up too much of your space?” she asked hesitantly.

  He looked at her in surprise. “You mean, that little bit?” He shook his head. “No, that’s nothing. Surely you’re getting more than that, aren’t you?”

  She gazed back at him blandly. “I like my veggies and dip, and I have enough here for sandwiches too.”

  “It’s barely enough to keep a hamster alive.”

  She shrugged, walked to the fruit section, found a few apples on sale, and picked up two bananas to add to her pile.

  He chose a big bunch of bananas and bagged a dozen apples.

  She stared at him. “That means you’re eating like three to four pieces of fruit a day.”

  He counted the fruit and shrugged. “I might not get back to the store in the next week, you know?”

  As they walked down the aisle, she saw a man smirking at them. She froze, and somebody behind her stepped into her. She yelped. Mack turned, and the person behind her apologized.

  Flustered, Doreen motioned with her hand. “Sorry, it was my fault.” She hurried forward past Mack.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Hornby,” she snapped. “He’s up ahead.”

  While Mack scanned the crowd around her, she deliberately kept her head down so she didn’t have to look at Hornby. As she and Mack continued their shopping, she found mushrooms, but they had a hefty price tag. She really would like a few, if only for raw munching. She bagged four small ones, putting them with her items.

  Mack leaned over and said, “Are you deliberately buying a couple items because that’s all you want or because they’re expensive?”

  “It’s a combination,” she said.

  He didn’t say another word, but he filled a bag with mushrooms and tossed it into the cart.

  She looked at it and smiled. “Can yo
u really use that much food?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “Lots of this is going into the spaghetti sauce.”

  She scrunched up her face. “Which ones?”

  He chuckled and separated out the celery, onions, tomatoes, and mushrooms. “I’ve got a bottle of red wine that I’ll open and use with it too.”

  “Interesting,” she said. “Red wine in bourguignon maybe.”

  “Do you know how to make a beef bourguignon?” he asked with interest.

  She shook her head. “No, but I like eating it.” She stared at all the vegetables he’d pointed out. “It will be interesting to see how you make all of that turn into something yummy. Personally I don’t like celery.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you do or not,” he said with a grin. “It goes into the spaghetti sauce. And we need garlic too.”

  She watched him in fascination as he picked up some weird little clove things. “Don’t you bake those whole and serve them with camembert?”

  “Maybe you did,” he said. “But the rest of world chops it up and sautés it with meat.”

  She followed him as he added eggs, bacon, hamburger, and milk in the cart, stacking up a grocery bill that her heart would have loved to afford. But, as it was, she couldn’t justify that kind of money much less know how to cook most of it.

  When they got to the bakery, she picked up several loaves of bread and several tubs of peanut butter to go with her milk for her tea and more eggs for a new omelet—and she added in some cheese.

  Mack looked at her purchases. “Well, it’s growing slightly, but it looks like I’m a pig and you’re a bird.”

  “Not at all,” she said. “I wouldn’t know what to do with most of what you have.”

  “Good point.” He motioned toward the cashier. “Let’s go.”

  She pulled into the first nearly empty register. As she unloaded her groceries, she looked up to see Hornby two aisles over, staring at her. He had a big grin on his face.

  “Don’t look now,” she said in a low tone that only Mack could hear, “but Hornby is at eleven o’clock.”