by Maris Soule
“Sounds like something I should try. That plant your mother gave me isn’t doing well.” Of course, if I remembered to water it regularly, that might also help. “Anyway, I’m glad to hear Ken isn’t doing heroin or cocaine.”
Wade simply grunted.
As I washed two plastic containers that couldn’t go in the dishwasher, I said, “I had a visitor today. A Customs and Border Protection agent showed up around eleven thirty asking questions about Brenda Cox.”
“A CBP agent?” Wade grabbed a dish towel and dried the two containers. “What did he want to know?”
“He was a she. Agent Andrea Tailor. She knew I’d talked to Detective Ferrell, and that I’d told him that Brenda had been threatened by her boss. She said Brenda worked at Patterson’s Furniture, and she wanted to know if I’d been to that store.”
“The agent told you your friend worked at Patterson’s Furniture?” Wade frowned and set the dried containers on the counter.
“Well, she didn’t say the store’s name, but I went on-line and found out where she worked.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to get involved.”
“I’m not getting involved. I was simply curious.”
“Do you realize that’s where Mr. Herman worked?”
“No.” That was a surprise.
“I was over there this afternoon, interviewing the owner, who swore he knew nothing about the pills we found.”
“Of course.” It wasn’t like the man would admit to pushing drugs.
Wade nodded and chuckled. “He said he didn’t actually hire Herman, that the store manager did, so he called the manager over. And, talk about evasive. This guy insisted he had no idea how Herman could have ended up with oxycodone pills. ‘Maybe someone came by after hours and sold them to him,’ he said. Which, of course, I don’t believe. As for why he didn’t report Herman as missing Friday, he said he just figured Herman had found the work more physical than he’d expected and quit.”
“So, both Brenda and Jerry worked for Patterson’s Furniture.” I repeated the information for my own clarity. “And now both are dead.” I looked at Wade. “That’s got to be more than a coincidence.”
“P.J. . . .” He stretched out my name, a warning tone to the syllables. “Forget it.”
Looking into his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes that have fascinated me from the day I met him, I wanted to assure him I wouldn’t get involved. Not this time. Not when I was only days or weeks from becoming a new mother.
“I’m just pointing out that two people dying the same day, two people who worked for the same store, might be more than a coincidence,” I said and started the dishwasher. “Especially when a federal agent comes around asking questions about that store. Does Detective Farrell know your OD victim also worked for Patterson’s Furniture?”
Wade smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know, Miss Detective, I haven’t told him, but I will make sure he’s aware of that. Now—” He slipped an arm around my shoulders. “Come into the living room and sit down for a while. Aren’t you sore from that accident last night?”
“A little,” I admitted, walking with him out of the kitchen. “By the way, Howard said our local pig farmer admitted he had pigs loose last night. So there.”
Wade chuckled. “Are you saying pigs don’t fly?”
Chapter Sixteen
On Wednesday the weather played its usual turnabout. The temperature rose and snow turned to rain. Jason and Wade left the house at their usual times, and by ten o’clock, I’d called the mechanic in Zenith, the one Howard had recommended. To my relief, the man said if I brought my car in that afternoon, he had a loaner I could use until he replaced the airbags and made the necessary repairs to my car. That meant I not only could make it to my regular Mothers-to-Be meeting, I could also stay in town and enjoy my once-a-month dinner with Grandma Carter.
I hadn’t wanted to miss either. I loved getting together with Grandma, and I wanted Connie to listen to my baby’s heartbeat. Paige Joy hadn’t been moving around much this morning, and I was worried. Being bounced back and forth and thumped by an airbag couldn’t be good for her. I would feel better if I knew everything was all right.
With several hours to go before I left for the meeting, I went to work on a federal tax form for the third and last client on my list. Once I had those taxes completed and filed, I would start Wade’s—we wouldn’t file as a couple until next year—which would take some time since his idea of keeping records involved stuffing receipts, notes, and documents into shoe boxes. I had two boxes to go through.
A sharp pain in my side took my breath away, and I stood, hands on my belly, waiting. Was this the start of labor?
Dozens of thoughts raced through my head. If I were going into labor, how long should I wait before calling Wade or Connie? Did I have everything I needed here at the house, or because of the accident, should I go to the hospital?
Undecided, I paced the living room. Baraka went to the front door, indicating he wanted to go out. A good idea, I decided. His last fart had gagged me.
The rain had subsided to a drizzle, and I stepped onto the porch to watch Baraka start his customary search for the perfect spot to cock his leg. A pair of crows in the tree across the road cawed. Warning others that the dog and human were outside? Or was I giving the birds too much credit? Howard said crows were highly intelligent, but did they really set up sentries to alert others about my activities?
In tandem the crows cawed again, then flew from the tree. I visually followed their flight toward Howard’s house, then noticed a car parked on the shoulder of the road, not far from my driveway. A silver SUV, its lights on.
In trouble?
I watched it, trying to see if there was anyone in the vehicle. Its windshield wiper made a swipe, and I thought I saw someone on the driver’s side. I debated walking down to check if the driver needed help. The SUV wasn’t that far away, and I’d learned that in the country, people helped each other. But something didn’t feel right. I couldn’t see any damage to the car. If the driver was simply having engine trouble, he could come to me. Even if he didn’t want to walk the short distance, he could get out of the car and signal for help. And if he’d already called for help, there was no sense in me getting wet to learn that.
I heard the SUV’s engine start, watched it pull back onto the road and head my way. It slowly passed in front of my house, but tinted windows stopped me from seeing inside. And then, once by, the SUV sped up. In seconds it was out of sight.
Strange, I thought. Very strange.
* * *
I hadn’t felt any more sharp pains since that first one, so once Baraka finished outside, I let him back in, and returned to my computer. At one o’clock, since I still hadn’t felt any more pains, I drove my car into Zenith, stopped at the bank to make a deposit into my business account and cashed the personal check the Sporbachs had given me. I then drove to the mechanic’s shop just north of town.
The sign for Schipper’s Auto Repairs wasn’t large, simply a sheet of plywood, barely four-by-four nailed to two short posts. It was set back from the road between a ranch-style house and a large pole barn, but I hadn’t noticed it before. Hadn’t noticed how many cars were parked in front of the barn, some with their hoods up, others with obvious damage. I guess I hadn’t paid attention because up until now I hadn’t had a need for a mechanic.
Nate Schipper, I discovered, was a graduate of Zenith High and had worked for six years as a mechanic at the Chevrolet dealership in Kalamazoo before buying this property. “We’re expecting, too,” he said, pointing at the house. “Zenith is a good place to raise a family.”
I hoped so, though having been raised in the city, I was still adjusting to living in a rural area where everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business. Earlier, when I’d called to see if he could fix my car, the moment I mentioned my name, Nate knew I’d gone off the road and hit the Hammon’s mailbox.
“Ye
ah, Howard stopped by and said you might call,” Nate said as he walked me over to the side of his barn. “He said you’d probably need a loaner. This Chevy’s not in the best of shape, but it will get you around until I can install new airbags in yours.”
I hoped he was right about the car getting me from place to place. The loaner was a faded red, six-cylinder Chevy Impala with almost two hundred thousand miles. Several scratches and dents marred its exterior, and the moment I opened the car door, I could smell stale cigarette smoke and see a burn spot on the passenger’s seat and stains on the floor mats.
I almost decided against taking the car, but if I wanted my car fixed, I didn’t really have a choice. The positive side was he said the loaner car got good gas mileage. With a smile, I took the keys and headed for Kalamazoo.
After a while, I didn’t notice the cigarette smell, and the car actually didn’t handle badly though it did seem to pull to the left. I arrived early for the meeting. That is, early for me. Tamara was already inside the building, standing in the hallway outside of our meeting room. “We have to wait,” she said when I headed for the door. “Connie’s inside, arguing with the minister.”
I could hear voices through the closed door, Connie’s and another woman’s. “Why are they arguing?”
“Seems someone broke into the church last Saturday,” Tamara said. “Down here the wastebasket in the bathroom was turned over, its contents strewn all over the floor, and the paper towel holder was smashed. Upstairs, in the sanctuary, all of the hymnals had been pulled out of the racks in front of the pews and tossed on the floor. I guess the minister’s office also was broken into, but I don’t know what damage was done there, or what might be missing. From what I’ve heard through the door, she’s blaming us.”
“Us?” I didn’t understand. “Why would we want to mess up a church that’s allowing us to meet twice a week?”
“I don’t know. I guess—”
The door opened and Tamara stopped talking as a tall, gray-haired, black woman stepped out into the hallway. “Today, but that’s it.” The minister shook a finger toward the open doorway. “I don’t care if you had nothing to do with what happened. I’m making a rule. From now on, only members of this congregation will be allowed to use this building. No outsiders.”
“Phew,” I murmured, watching the minister head for the stairs, her back as rigid as her words.
“Phew is right,” Tamara said and pushed herself away from the hall wall. “Shall we go in and see if our loyal leader survived the battle?”
* * *
Connie waited until we were all there before she explained the problem. “I think having the church broken into just a day after a woman was killed out front has been too much for Reverend Jones. And the timing isn’t all that bad. Some of you are near your due dates, and since a couple of you have indicated you want me as your midwife, chances are I would have had to start rescheduling these sessions.”
“I almost called you this morning,” I said. “I felt a strong pain right along here.” I rubbed my hand over my right side. “I was sure I was starting labor.”
“But nothing more?” Connie asked, looking at me.
“Nothing more. I got up and walked around a bit, let my dog out, and went out on the porch. Everything felt fine.” I didn’t add that seeing the silver SUV made me forget I’d been worried about going into labor.
“Well, don’t hesitate to call if you think you might be going into labor, even if it is a false alarm.” She looked at the rest of the group. “That goes for all of you. Even if you’re going to have your baby in the hospital, I’d like to know when you go into labor.” She smiled. “I feel like you’re all my daughters.”
Maria made a derisive sound. “I hope you better than mi madre. She kick me out when I am seventeen.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Connie said.
“Iz okay,” Maria said and smiled. “I land on feet, and Madre now dead.”
I didn’t know what to think about Maria’s last statement, and from Connie’s expression, I could tell she wasn’t sure what to say, either. No one seemed to. Finally, Connie cleared her throat and said, “Changing the subject, did any of you know the woman who was hit by a car out front of the church?”
Before I had a chance to speak up, Tamara said, “I did. Years ago, I was in a soc’ class at Western with her. She and I used to compare notes before exams. I was surprised when I saw her Friday. Surprised she remembered me.”
“You talked to her?” I said. “Did she tell you she was being followed?”
“Being followed?” Tamara shook her head. “No. She stopped me just as I was about to enter the church, asked where I was going. When I told her about this group, she wanted to know if there was somewhere private downstairs where she could make a phone call. I told her I didn’t know about any other rooms being open, but there was a bathroom. She walked downstairs with me. Last I saw of her, she went into the bathroom.”
“Is that where you saw her, P.J.?” Connie asked. “Talked to her?”
“Yes.” I briefly related what I’d overheard. “I told Brenda to call 9-1-1, but I should have done more to help her.” I still felt guilty.
“Yes, good friends help,” Maria said.
Connie frowned at Maria. “She told her to call 9-1-1. Sometimes we can’t help people. They have to help themselves.”
“Maybe, but if me, I would have asked for help.” Maria looked directly at me. “If you such good friends, why your friend not ask?”
“I don’t know why.” Except, I did. “I was in such a hurry to get to the toilet, I—”
“Don’t try to second guess yourself, P.J.,” Connie said. “And what about you, Maria? Did you see her? Talk to her?”
Maria stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “Why you ask me?”
“Because, as I recall, you came in late Friday. Something about a phone call from your husband. Did you see the woman?”
“No.” Maria looked at all of us. “No one here to blame. Right? Paper said it was accident.”
“I don’t think it was.”
I didn’t mean to say that aloud, and the moment I did, everyone’s gaze switched to me. “Do you know something we don’t?” Connie asked. “P.J., did your husband tell you something?”
“No.” I laughed at the idea. “Just the opposite. He keeps telling me to forget it, not to get involved.”
“Yes, forget it,” Maria said. “Iz better to do what husband wants. Everyone happy then.”
“Maybe.” Tamara kept looking at me. “Come on, P.J. Do you know more? Have they figured out who was driving the car that hit her?”
“Not as far as I know, and Wade’s right, I shouldn’t get involved.”
“My boyfriend wouldn’t think of telling me what to do,” Sarah said.
Anna laughed. “That’s because you’re young and not married. Now, in my case, by not having a partner, I can do what I want whenever I want.”
“Okay, okay,” Connie motioned with her hands that it was time to change the conversation. “Let’s talk about what we’re going to do now that we can’t meet here.”
Brenda’s name wasn’t mentioned again, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d let her down.
Chapter Seventeen
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Anna asked me as we walked to our cars after the meeting. “Monday night I was already worried about you having to make that long drive back to Zenith. And later, when I heard about the pileup on I-94 just outside of Galesburg, I hoped you hadn’t gotten caught in that. I didn’t think about the road out of Zenith being bad.” She chuckled. “Didn’t think about pigs being on the road.”
I stopped walking. “It wasn’t funny.”
“I’m sorry, P.J.” Anna shook her head, still grinning. “But the way you told it at the meeting, about them having completely disappeared by the time your husband got there, it did sound funny.”
“If I hear one more comment about disappearing pigs, I think I�
�ll scream.” Even the teller at the bank in Zenith had mentioned my disappearing pigs.
“You have had a rough few days. When you and I met Monday, you didn’t even mention having your house broken into on Sunday.”
“I shouldn’t have mentioned it during today’s session. I’m sure Connie thinks I’m crazy. Crazy like my mother.” I sighed, wishing I hadn’t told the group all the crazy things my mother did when she was pregnant with me. “Probably you all do.”
“No,” Anna insisted. “You know your house, know where things should or shouldn’t be. It’s just that . . .” Again, she chuckled. “Well, what you told us sounded strange. Really strange.”
“Baby brain strange?” I tried to smile. “I don’t know. Maybe I am going crazy.”
“Or, maybe,” Anna said as we started walking again, “someone did break into your house. After all, besides the missing thumb drive, you said your dog was outside when he shouldn’t have been.”
“I should have locked that door when I left.”
“In the neighborhood where I grew up, a locked door wouldn’t have stopped someone from breaking in. If anything, that big dog of yours should have scared your burglar away, which might be why he was thrown outside.” Anna stopped beside her car. “Do you think they tranquilized him?”
“Wade doesn’t think so. When we arrived home, Baraka acted subdued but not like he was out of it. And you’re right, most people look at him, and because of his size, assume he’s vicious, but I’ve never seen him act aggressive when people come over. Mostly he sits and watches them.” I laughed. “However, having a Ridgeback stare at you can be intimidating.”
“Well, you said nothing valuable was taken, so you lucked out there.” Anna waved as Tamara walked past. "See you,” she called out to her before turning back to me. “Thanks for sending those pictures of the bank statements. I printed them. They came out pretty good. Good enough to show the differences.” Shaking her head, she opened her car door. “I can’t believe I left that original statement in the folder. How stupid.”