“I’m not saying goodbye, I’m saying I loved you, and I still do, but you were right. I need love today. Not just a memory of it.”
A smell of flowers on warm wind blew across Belinda’s grave, almost as if she approved.
The next day Bill made arrangements to head to Texas for a few days of vacation. He had told his son about his intentions, not knowing what to expect.
“Dad,” Billy Roy said, “go get her if she makes you happy. You do Mom an injustice by not living your life, by staying alone. If Susan doesn’t understand, she’ll come around.”
Susan, his youngest child, had loved her mother fiercely and was devastated when Belinda died of ovarian cancer. She never got over it and didn’t look kindly on any woman who might try to take her mother’s place. Bill didn’t argue, simply stated his plans for the future, adding he loved her and hoped she could understand his loneliness.
He called the airport and made a reservation, intending to begin his life anew.
Chapter 16
About eight o’clock Friday night, that same week of the Avery bust, Maude’s phone rang, waking her from a sound sleep in her favorite chair. Grappling with the receiver of the landline, she finally managed to answer before being disconnected. It was Bill Page, saying hello and he intended to make a trip to Texas, if that was okay. Maude told him to come on down, and they could sip a few Cokes or a cup of coffee together. He got really quiet for a minute.
“Have you stopped guzzling gin?” he asked softly. “Beer too?”
“Yep, all of it. Think you can stand me sober?”
“I think I’d like to try,” he said, a grin in his voice. “Be something different. Maybe you’ll remember me the next morning.”
“Dang you, Bill. Hurry up and get here. You flying in?”
“Be there at ten o’clock tomorrow. Don’t have to be back till Thursday. Think you can put up with me that long?”
“Sure, but what will you do while I’m working?”
“Thought I’d borrow your pickup and scout out some jobs down there. Get to know some of the places might be hiring in the spring.”
“I’m waiting now. Be there to get you. Maybe bring some breakfast, we’ll go to the park.”
“I’d rather go back to your place, if you get my drift?”
“I do so, Bill, and I couldn’t agree more. Ten o’clock. Can’t wait.”
“Till then, goodnight, Maudie-girl. I’ll be thinking of you when I snuggle with my pillow.”
“Night, Bill,” she said, lingering on the phone after the connection went dead.
The next morning Maude was up early, drank a pot of coffee, and read the Big Book. She noticed how much better mornings were when she rose sober. He head was clear, and the lines of exhaustion in her face had faded. She was darn glad for the new haircut and color; it made her feel younger, prettier. She blushed, thinking she might be considered pretty. Handsome was a better word for a woman her age. Still, she knew she looked better. Some of the old boys at the Cop Shop had been eying her lately. She thought maybe there was something on her face, until one of them winked. Probably has two ex-wives, and a mistress, but on the lookout for new stuff. Even so, Maude had to admit it was flattering. She hoped Bill noticed and liked the new look.
The airport was twenty miles away, and she left in plenty of time to pick up breakfast before the plane arrived. Sitting in her truck, she noticed the people coming and going from the gate. One grabbed her attention. It was Buzzcut. She’d know his blond hair and round glasses anywhere. He headed toward short-term parking, and she followed at a distance, not forgetting the craftiness of the man. It wouldn’t do for him to see her. The car he picked up was a rental, obviously left there for him. She wrote down the name of the agency and the license. Meanwhile, Bill’s plane was due in, and she had to go back to curb pick up where she’d told him to meet her. Hoping against hope Bill was there and they could follow the car, she drove quickly, back to the curbed area, and motioned Bill over. He threw his bag inside the bed and was about to lean over and kiss her when she yelled, “Fasten your seatbelt. I’ll get that kiss in a little while.”
Zooming out of the mainstream of airport traffic toward short-term parking, she glimpsed the taillights of a car that looked like the one Buzzcut had gone toward. It was gray, an Acura, very new and stylish. Nothing but the best for Dawson’s henchman, she thought.
Bill sat buckled in, admiring the scenery that zipped by him, content to ride with his girl. He glanced over and whistled, just then noticing her new look.
“Damn, you look good, Maude. What did you do? Oh hell, I don’t want to know. Just keep doing it. You’re gorgeous.”
Her face was red, she could tell. The blush heated all the way to her forehead. She looked across for a minute and smiled, thanking him before putting her eyes back on the road.
“This fellow we’re chasing, is he a dangerous sort?” Bill asked, leaning back in the seat, his eyes on Maude.
“He’s the one who kidnapped Lilly Ann last fall. Works for the scumbag who killed those women, and cut out their hearts.”
“Oh, I remember him—Dawson—the one who shot you. I thought he was comatose, little more than a vegetable.”
“So did we, but he’s alert and playing it cool. Up to some of his tricks.” She began to tell Bill about the hole in the ground behind her house and the elaborate way it was set up.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You be careful with him, Maude. Psychos are apt to change their plans in the middle of carrying out one. They tend to think by the minute sometimes.”
“Not Dawson,” she said, glancing over at Bill. “Dawson is committed.”
“So you think this fellow you’re chasing is in cahoots with Dawson, and if you catch him he’ll give something away?”
“Something like that. I just wish I knew what he had in mind. I believe he had all to do with Eve Devine’s murder, but there are those who would laugh at me and say I’m focused on a helpless man. Maybe they’re right in one way—I’m focused on him after seeing his face in the hospital. Before that, I was of the belief our troubles with him were over.” She hit her brakes for a minute and skidded around a curve in the pursuit of the gray Acura. “Like now, it wouldn’t surprise me to know he’s playing a little game. Knew I was going to pick you up this morning and sent Buzzcut here to up the ante. But that would mean he had a way into my home phone. So how would he do that?”
“Have you had any telephone work done at the house lately? Or anyone doing work while you were gone?” Bill asked the questions he would have asked anyone suspicious of their privacy being compromised.
“None that I can remember,” she said, puzzled by the question. “Wait, why didn’t I think of that? It’s easy to do. Just run some wires and set up a listening device. Funny, when it’s your own place, you don’t think it would happen.”
“Yes, ma’am, easy as that. They just need access to your phone line. We can check when we get to your house. If you think someone is playing with you, it would be a good place to start looking.”
Maude thought about what Bill had said as she continued to follow Buzzcut. Suddenly, the Acura turned off the freeway onto a ramp, and she quickly caught the next one, determined to stay on his tail. After exiting the main road, a one-way service road took over, leading her to an old part of town where the Catholic cemetery dated back two hundred years. The service road narrowed, then became graveled roadway with signs pointing to the entry of the burial grounds.
“What the heck is going on?” she asked, busy looking for a turnaround. “I’d forgotten about this road.” The cemetery office lay straight ahead, after a slight turn to the left. There was no sign of the Acura. They drove a little farther, and saw it parked on the side of the small road dividing the grounds of the facility. Easing up to automobile, Maude kept her eyes on the driver. A young woman with wildly curled hair sat smoking a cigarette, her eyes on the road. Maude pulled the snap on her holster and got out of the truck. The girl d
id nothing more; she simply sat and smoked.
“Who are you, and where is the driver of this car?” Maude said, standing next to the window. Her weapon was in easy reach, but the girl appeared to be harmless. She had her hands intentionally visible.
“Vera Miller. That’s who I am, and I’m the driver. What do you want?” The girl didn’t seem sure of herself, even when she acted as though she was being harassed.
Maude showed her identification and asked again about the driver. The girl insisted she had driven the car there. Bill stepped up and looked in the car. “How much did he pay you to drive here?” he said, smiling into the girl’s eyes.
“Fifty bucks. But I don’t know who he was. Someone handed me an envelope with instructions and money. It was in passing as I left school today. The university. I needed the money,” she said pleadingly. “I’m a student.”
“Is this your car?” Bill asked.
The girl shook her head. “No, I picked it up in the garage outside school.”
Maude walked to the front of the car and read the license plate. It was different from the other car. Somewhere along the way, Buzzcut had slipped away. It was all planned, from the first to the last.
“You need to get out of the car and call someone to come and get you,” Maude said. “We’ll be in touch with the rental agency. Meanwhile, you need transportation.”
Maude took the girl’s information and told her she could go, but if they needed her later, she would be called. She also advised the girl of the foolishness of taking jobs without knowing who was paying her wages. By that time, the driver was properly frightened and called her parents.
“Bill,” she said as they waited for the tow truck, “what did I do to get this fellow on my heels?”
“Just lucky, I guess,” he said, grinning. “Looks like I came at a good time.”
“I’m ready to go home, make a pot of coffee, and have you tell me how gorgeous I am. Maybe then I’ll tell you about a case we just finished.”
When they arrived at Maude’s house, she began searching for signs someone had tampered with the phone lines. They had already come to an agreement—say nothing that would tell anyone that Maude was onto them. The house showed no signs of anyone there that day, but looking back, she believed it was done when the big hole was filled in on Sunday. They’d had plenty of time to do what was needed. She searched and found the invoice for work completed by the landscape company, a company she had dealt with before. Stepping outside, Maude carried her cell phone, and spoke to the manager of the company. She asked if he’d had a new employee come to her house on Sunday, and he remembered one of his guys had called in sick. A work force man showed up and took his place. She told him there was a possibility someone had been in her house that day, and if so, he was responsible for bringing an unknown person onto her property.
Admitting to his fault, the manager said if it was true, he would like to make it up to her with a free mower service the next couple of times her grass got tall. She grudgingly agreed, and said she would confirm with him if it had happened, that it would mean changing locks on her house and he could pay for that. There was no way of knowing if the man had broken in, or used a key.
By the time she went back into the house, Bill was standing at the kitchen counter, pouring two cups of coffee. Beside his cup lay two small devices. He indicated they came from her phones. Taking their coffee outside, they sat down on the porch and discussed the meaning of the listening devices and what should happen next.
“You must have really upset this man—he’s trying to stay one step ahead of you. I don’t think you should let him know what we found. That hole in your yard was to piss you off and take your mind off his real purpose, to get someone in the house.”
Bill was disturbed for Maude and wanted to help, but there was little he could do. As an employee of another state’s police force, he had no jurisdiction in her town. But he could advise. That made him happy enough, if he could help. That night, though, belonged to them. He didn’t intend to share it with anyone else.
“Tell me about the drinking, Maude, so I can know firsthand what you had to go through.”
For the next couple of hours, they sat like old friends, talking through her abuse of gin over the years, and how it had come to her to quit. She was embarrassed to admit it, but not so badly she wanted to keep it to herself. That was the thing about her relationship with Bill. She felt she could tell him anything but goodbye, and he would understand.
“As for me,” Bill said after she was finished telling, “I’ll do whatever it takes to support your efforts. Drinking is a pastime with me that comes and goes. I don’t rely on it much, so it isn’t something I can’t do without. I don’t intend to take your problem as mine, because it isn’t, but I’m here all the way.”
She thanked him, and said she liked his attitude and would depend on it. Her meetings had to come into a daily life, and so as long as he understood, they should be okay. Bill nodded and gave her a sympathetic look.
“I have a few friends who would understand. Police work encourages the letdown that alcohol allows. It helps to put things in perspective, that life is not all about the criminal element. It’s about living with your family or people who love you. Like me.” He ducked his head when he said the last part, as if, to admit he might love her, Maude might think him weak.
She reached out a hand and touched his face, smiling into his eyes.
“That’s just about the nicest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say, Bill Page. I had begun to think I was unlovable before I met you.” She wrapped both arms around his neck and snuggled, enjoying the shaded coolness of the porch overhang. “Doesn’t change a thing, but it’s good to hear you say it.”
The locksmith came around 2:30 and changed the key locks on all three doors, front, back, and garage entry. Bill put the devices back in the phone after Maude decided to use them against the listener. It wouldn’t be the first time a thing like that was done, just the first time in her own home. She often sat amazed at the changes in the world around her, the lengths criminals would go to steal paintings, the artwork of masters who would never have agreed to such a fuss. Or they used sophisticated stethoscopes and broke into safes, where diamonds and gold commingled with precious colored stones, where coin collections amounted to much more than the value printed upon their silver and gold faces. Little machines made of tiny microphones and sending units—how did they come up with such miracles for the criminal mind? She supposed it wasn’t only criminals who used them, after all—the government of, by, and for the people had been committing similar acts upon its citizens for decades.
Funny how fast the weekend flew by, she thought, showering on Monday morning, after the alarm buzzed her awake. Bill’s presence in the house was comforting and wonderful, a light reaching into all her dark thoughts. The animal stayed docile while Bill was there to touch her, and reassure all would be well. Water from the hated showerhead washed away tears of gratitude. Old woman tears, she thought. I’m feeling my age. Loneliness was harder to bear as the years passed, leaving more behind than there were ahead. For a great period of life Maude had believed she was set apart from such things. She denied the emptiness at the end of the day, when there was none to listen or speak, except for the sound of her own voice. She had believed there was no love for Maude Rogers.
Bill was sitting on the edge of the bed, sipping his first cup of coffee. He grinned at her as she worked the blow dryer, styling her hair. Bless him, she thought, he doesn’t ruin the morning with useless chatter. Soon she was ready to go, her dark red blazer left to put on over the rest of her clothing. Mondays were sometimes hard days, finishing off work left from Fridays, or writing any kind of report that happened over the weekend. Maude needed to play the Dawson situation very close, avoiding any outside agency’s involvement. Also, she might be called paranoid by her coworkers if the word got out she thought the maniac was alert, and planning chaos again.
They sat on the porc
h, enjoying the early morning air, the sounds of morning birds chirping all around. Feeders with millet and sunflower seeds brought them in, just as the copious amounts of food appealed to day-foraging squirrels and raccoons visiting at night. Bill had offered to trap the big-eyed marauders and drop them off at the animal shelter, but Maude didn’t mind feeding them. Still, the first time they dumped trash from the receptacles left outside would be the day she pulled the live trap out of the shed.
“Time for me to go,” she said, rising from the chair. “Lots to do today—cleanup from the weekend.”
“I know,” Bill said sadly, “it’s a long time till five o’clock when I see you again.”
“Where are you going? Got it planned out?” she asked, finishing the morning cigarette. She smoked outside, not in the house, and was pleased with the clean smell of the air in her home. Not like the old days when she puffed unfiltereds continuously. Her whole house back then had reeked of stale smoke. Now she couldn’t believe the difference in her smoke-free home. Someday maybe the last four cigarettes would go, but for now, she wasn’t interested in hurting any more.
“Think I’ll go to the criminal justice building and pick up an application. Who knows, might be some interesting work for a retired cop. Besides, I would see you more if I stayed in Madison.”
Maude didn’t know she’d been holding her breath while he was talking, but there at the end of his sentence, she swallowed hard, and breathed at the same time. Bill close by. What the heck, life could be more fun with him around all the time.
“See you later. Good luck on your hunt,” she said, and kissed his cheek.
“Hold up,” he said quickly, and gave her a kiss on the lips. “Try this one on for size. You’ll be more likely to remember me throughout the day.”
She laughed at his antics and went for the door. Turning back, her face was serious.
The Maude Rogers Murder Collection Page 71