Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  “Cute shoes. New?”

  “No, I just never wear them when I have to actually walk.”

  “Yeah, I can see where that might be too much to expect from a pair of shoes,” said the stiletto queen.

  “Well, they’re going in the Goodwill bag.” I tossed them onto the car floor and collapsed into the passenger seat. It felt so good to sit down.

  “Maybe I’ll give ‘em a whirl.” Ruby got into the driver’s seat and we buckled up. The top was down, so she offered me a scarf from a collection she keeps stashed behind the passenger seat.

  I debated a moment. Scarf hair or wind hair. Scarf hair won. “Ruby? Am I plain?”

  “You are most definitely not plain. You’re gorgeous. Why would you ask such a silly thing?”

  Of course my grandma is going to tell me I am beautiful; that’s her job. “A mean man said I’m plain,” I answered glumly.

  “Well, he needs to get his eyes checked. You’ve got my green eyes, my auburn hair—”

  “Your hair’s blond.”

  “The blond is helping me transition to gray.”

  “You’ve been transitioning ever since I’ve known you.”

  “I was prematurely going gray, and it wasn’t working for me.” She pulled a pink paper from her pocket and handed it to me. “Not your lucky day, huh?”

  “What’s this?” I glanced at it. “A thirty-five dollar parking ticket? Are you kidding me? Why’d I get a ticket? I still have lots of time left on the meter.”

  “Because when I got here, you didn’t.” She started the car, revved the engine to its maximum RPMs, and peeled away from the curb. “Let’s go get your key.”

  I love her little sports car, a gift from Gramps when Grandma had been diagnosed with breast cancer in her fifties, but I never feel safe with just a lap belt, especially the way she drives. Fast and furious. Heck, with Ruby driving, I probably wouldn’t feel safe in an Army tank.

  “I should have called this morning and warned you.” She shifted into third.

  “About what?”

  “Last night I decided to do a card reading about this Duke fellow. You know the Dial-A-Ride driver? He seems like a nice young man, but you never can be too sure. Sure would hate to set you up with a serial killer. Anyway, a couple of cards came up indicating today would have been a good day for you to lie low. But I knew you wouldn’t listen, so against my better judgment, I kept my mouth shut.”

  I was clutching the dashboard and gritting my teeth as we zoomed through town at warp speed. “Am I in imminent danger?”

  “No. I would have warned you if that was the case.”

  “Ruby!” I shouted frantically, slamming my foot on my phantom brake to no avail. We were about two hundred feet from an intersection. “The light’s yellow. Slow down.”

  “Relax. We’ve got plenty of time. It’s just a soft yellow.” She floored it, and we sailed through as the light turned red. “See?”

  In record-breaking time, we arrived at my house in a squeal of brakes. It took me a moment to compose myself before pulling off the scarf and shakily fumbling for the door handle.

  “Hold the phone.” Ruby pointed through the windshield. “Who’s the stud muffin mowing his lawn?”

  “Oh, that’s Josh, my next door neighbor. You met him the other day when he came in through my window, remember?”

  “When you wet your pants?”

  “Yes,” I muttered.

  “Well, you’d think I would’ve remembered him.” She smiled appreciatively or should I say, lasciviously? “He must work out. Look at those buns. Mmmm-mmm.”

  “Ok-a-a-y… I’m going to go get the key now. You wait here.” I scrambled out of the car before she could scorch my ears with more smutty remarks about my neighbor’s hot bod, and padded barefoot up my front walk to the door, and then it dawned on me that I didn’t have a key. Rats. Why hadn’t I hidden one outside after moving in? Daisy barked on the other side of the door, and I assured her it was me, which turned the barking into whining and sniffing at the threshold. Too bad she couldn’t open the door.

  “Hi, Cookie.” The Viking sauntered across the lawn, dressed in board shorts and a tight, white tank top that enhanced his rippling, bronze muscles.

  OMG. Be still my heart.

  He climbed the porch steps, flashing his dazzling, toothy smile, “I couldn’t help noticing you standing there, looking troubled. Are you locked out?” His eyes swept down my body to my bare feet. “Wow. What is that thing on your foot?”

  “Nothing.” I self-consciously set my left foot over my right foot’s burgeoning bunion and then I caught sight of Ruby climbing out of the car. “Stay in the car!” I hollered, waving her back. “This’ll only take a sec.” I didn’t want her talking to Josh. There was no telling what she might say. She ignored me and sprinted up the walk, leaping up the steps in her five-inch heels.

  “Hellloooo,” she panted, unabashedly ogling him. “Katy, who’s your handsome neighbor?”

  I’ll kill her later. “Josh, this is my grandmother, Ruby. Ruby, this is Josh, the, uh, my neighbor,” I stammered. I’d almost said “the Viking.”

  Josh turned his blinding smile on Grandma. “Hi, Ruby. I remember you from the other day.” He leaned forward and gave her a quick hug.

  “You do?” Ruby was close to swooning. “Oh, yes. That’s right. When Katy wet—”

  “YUP! I’M LOCKED OUT!” I crossed my eyes and twiddled my finger by my ear. “Silly me.”

  “Maybe I can help you. Be right back.”

  He vaulted the porch railing, neatly clearing the bed of red geraniums below and jogged to his house, unaware of the immense pleasure he was giving Ruby... and me.

  “Oh, would I like to play some backseat bingo with that fella.” Ruby patted her chest as she watched him, then turned to me with her hands on her hips. “Tell me why you’re not dating him?”

  “For starters, I barely know the guy, and besides, I’m not ready to get serious about anyone.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m not talking about getting serious. I’m talking about getting laid.”

  “Grandmother. Really.” I sounded like a Victorian prude. It was one thing for Samantha to suggest that but my grandma? Eew.

  “Kiddo, if I was forty years younger—”

  “Forty years ago you were married to Gramps,” I righteously reminded her.

  She smiled softly with a faraway look in her eyes. “Yes, I was. My cowboy.”

  “Gramps? A cowboy? I thought he was a high school English teacher.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, Katy. You don’t have a romantic bone in your body, do you?”

  “I used to.”

  She patted my arm. “You will again, sweetheart, but in the meantime... oh, here he comes.”

  Josh dashed up the steps, two at a time, holding an odd looking tool that he fanned out like a Swiss army knife, and bent down in front of the doorknob. “This may take a few minutes. Is the alarm on?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hopefully I won’t set it off, but I’m a little rusty at this.”

  “You’re going to pick the lock?” I suddenly wondered who this Josh person really was. “What are you? Some kind of cat burglar or something?”

  He laughed without taking his eyes off his task. “No. I’m a P.I.”

  “Huh?”

  Ruby answered for Josh. “Private investigator. Gumshoe, flatfoot, sleuth, snoop. You know, like Jim Rockford, Thomas Magnum, Jessica Fletcher, Barnaby Jones, Sherlock Holmes.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her and smiled patiently. “Yeah. I know what a private investigator is, Ruby. Like Angel and Veronica Mars. I’ve just never actually met one before.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not nearly as interesting, exciting, or as dangerous as the TV shows make it out to be. Same for the cop shows. Which I was,” he said as he deftly inserted two different picks into the lock and slowly tested it. “Nope.” He tried another combination and nothing happened.

  “Why aren’t you
a cop anymore?” I asked.

  “I was a detective. Undercover narcotics.” He tried another pick in the lock. “Really hard on marriages. Mine included.”

  Ruby couldn’t let that go by. “So you quit the department to save your marriage?”

  “I wish. No, unfortunately, the marriage was over before I figured it out.”

  She jabbed me in the arm with her bony elbow and raised her eyebrows at me as he inserted another pick.

  “Okay, I think this is the one. Oh, yeah, baby. This feels sooo... gooood.”

  You can probably guess what was going through my mind as Josh was sweet-talking the lock. I looked at Ruby and she was right there with me. Oh, yeah. Bingo!

  “Got it.” Josh glanced up at me. “As soon as I open the door, run in and disable the alarm.”

  He opened the door and I turned off the alarm while Daisy did a happy dance.

  I turned to Josh, noticing his incredible periwinkle blue eyes for the first time. And he was taller than my 5’9” by several inches. I felt petite.

  “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.” I may have batted my eyelashes.

  “No problemo,” he said, gazing deep into my eyes, our two souls merging into one. “Would you—”

  Yes. Yes. I will marry you.

  “—consider putting a spare key outside?”

  Okay, it was too soon for marriage. Maybe Ruby’s idea was better. Get laid. “I could get one of those fake rocks.”

  “No. Not a good idea. And neither is under the doormat or a flower pot. Might as well leave the door unlocked.”

  During this exchange Ruby had not said a word, but I caught the smirk on her face.

  “Well... uh... I guess I better get my keys...” I tore myself away from his embracing eyes to get the spare key to my car.

  “And shoes,” Ruby added.

  “I better get back to my lawn. It’s not going to mow itself.” He turned to Ruby. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

  Ruby was beside herself with glee as she attempted to break the sound barrier on the way back to Acme. “Wow. I could almost see the steam rising between you two.” She was practically cackling. “And then when he said he looked forward to seeing me again... Well, I don’t have to tell you what that meant.”

  “What?” I was a little spacey or was this horniness? I wasn’t sure; it had been so long.

  “He’s going to ask you out.” She slapped my knee and laughed. “What you need right now is a transition man. A hot he-man who’ll show you a good time, and honey, Josh fills the bill nicely. Mmm-mmm.”

  I was way past transition and thinking about having the Viking’s babies when we pulled up to the curb near Acme. I leaned over and gave her a smooch.

  “Keep me posted, Katy. I want all the juicy details. I’m so excited.”

  I got out, grabbed my portfolio from behind the seat, and watched her lay rubber as she drove away. I’d keep her posted, but I wasn’t sure about sharing all the juicy details. Oh, please, let there be some.

  I was surprised to find the Acme door propped open, so I fed the voracious meter and went in.

  Wanda sat at her desk behind the counter cuddling Doris, both looking forlorn.

  “Hey, Wanda. I’m so sorry.” I had no idea what I was sorry about, but her gloomy, mascara-streaked face crushed me. “Is there anything I can do?”

  She pulled a tissue from a box on her desk and dabbed her eyes. “No.” Her voice choked and she blew her red nose.

  Doris creaked a long, mournful yowl.

  “It’s okay, baby.” Wanda stroked the ancient cat. “No parent should ever be put through the agony of outliving their child.”

  “Oh, Wanda. I had no idea.” I tossed my portfolio on the counter and ran around the counter to the chair next to her and sat down, taking her hand in mine. “Why are you here? You should be home in bed.”

  “Life has to go on. The living must go on. It’s what he would have wanted.” She lifted her head and looked around the shop. “This place meant everything to him. It will be so empty without him.”

  “How old was he?” I asked, without thinking whether it was any of my business or not.

  She broke down into gut-wrenching sobs. “One hundred and twenty-five.”

  It was Dave who’d passed. Good old Dave.

  “His heart gave out. I tried to revive him, even called the paramedics, but it was too late. He died in my a-a-rms.”

  Doris leaned forward and gave my hand a half-hearted chomp that broke my heart. I needed to let these two mourn in peace, so I told her I’d call in a few days.

  I had the rest of the afternoon free and after hearing about Dave, I honored his memory by taking my best furry gal-pal, Daisy, to the park. We hadn’t been there in a while, so when I said, “Wanna go to the doggie park?” she went berserk. Of course, using the right tone, I probably could have said anything and she would have gone berserk, like, “Wanna go to the mall and watch Mommy try on bathing suits and cry?”

  Usually we go to the large regional park just off Highway One, but I changed it up and drove to the one at Lago Park on the west end of town. As I drove in, Daisy noticed the ducks hanging out in the lake skirting the road and her tail thumped against the seat in anticipation.

  “Oh, darn it. I forgot my shotgun, so I guess you won’t be jumping in the lake and retrieving dead ducks. Poor Daisy.”

  After releasing my squirming girl from her backseat tether, she dragged me to the entrance gates. The first gate was no problem, but the second was blocked by the dogs inside who couldn’t wait for Daisy to enter. Finally, she was free to romp, and I collapsed on a bench next to an older man doing needlepoint.

  He saw me glance at his project. “It was the one thing I simply could not give up after my sex change operation.”

  I had nothing to say to that, so I smiled and nodded like a bobble-head.

  “I’m kidding,” he said with a devilish grin. “I do needlepoint to calm my nerves. Beats the hell out of Xanax.”

  I looked at his project, a cute puppy chasing a ball.

  “I make them into pillows and give them to kids at the women’s shelter.”

  “How nice,” I replied, thinking what a dear man he was.

  “It’s the least I can do,” he said.

  Daisy ran to me and gave my flip-flopped feet a lick, then dashed back to her new best friends.

  “Nice dog,” said my bench mate.

  “Which one is yours?” I asked.

  “Don’t have a dog, just like watching them play. I used to go to the park and watch the kids, but some of the parents started giving me odd looks, like I’m a predator or something.” He sighed. “I understand where they’re coming from given how many I defended through the years, but I’m just a grandpa who misses his grandkids. So now I watch the dogs, soak up the sun, and do my needlepoint.”

  “Ever think about getting a dog?”

  “One of these days, I will. This is like window-shopping for me. Right now, I’m leaning towards a Labrador. Never met one I didn’t like.”

  I figured it was time to introduce myself. “My name’s Katy and that’s Daisy.”

  She heard her name and streaked over to say hello to my new friend.

  “Hello, Daisy.” He scratched the scruff of her neck. “I’m Ben.”

  Daisy gave him an appreciative kiss on his hand and dashed off to wrestle a Boxer.

  “I take it you’re an attorney.”

  “Was. Retired now and glad of it.” He did a few delicate stitches to the puppy’s nose and then continued. “I was a criminal attorney in Los Angeles for over forty years. The sad reality of the job is that most of the people you defend are guilty as sin.” He paused, resting his handiwork on his lap. “Somewhere in the midst of all that, I lost my humanity. It all became a game for me. A game I had to win, no matter how heinous the crime was. My wife kept begging me to stop, said I was no longer the man she married. After forty-five years of marri
age, she gave up and left me.”

  “Is that why you retired?”

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat and pinched his tear ducts under his wire-rims. “So, Katy, my dear, what is it about you that just made me unload on you?”

  I considered his question a moment. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a complete stranger about your troubles than to tell a friend.”

  “Or a shrink. I tried that and was given antidepressants, which made me feel worse.”

  “So you do needlepoint—”

  “And volunteer at the women’s shelter and do pro bono work. I’ve got a lot of making up to do.” He smiled at me. “I feel like Jacob Marley dragging around a heavy chain of sins.”

  Daisy came to me panting and collapsed at my feet. “She’s done.” I leaned down and clipped her leash to her halter. “How often do you come to the park, Ben?” I asked as I stood to leave.

  “Oh, three, four times a week, around this time of day. Maybe I’ll see you again.”

  “I look forward to that.”

  He gave Daisy another scratch behind the ears and we went to the gate, this time to fight our way out of the park without releasing the other dogs crowding us.

  Walking back to the car, I thought about Ben. Silver hair, wire-rimmed specs, goatee, snappy dresser, and somewhere around Ruby’s age. That’s right, I was thinking about doing a little matchmaking. But first I’d need a few more visits with him to see if I get any red flags.

  Chapter Nineteen

  DEAD GIRLS DON’T BLOG

  1996

  Friday, May 10

  Seventh period was study hall for Lindsay and Jenny. In Lindsay’s former life, they would have been whispering, stifling giggle fits, and passing notes, but now she felt claustrophobic in the crowded, stuffy room and longed to be out in the fresh air.

  She whispered to Jenny to take her backpack home, telling her she’d pick it up later, then asked the teacher’s aide for permission to go to the bathroom, which she did so she wouldn’t be lying. Afterward she went out to the flagpole where her mom would be picking her up in thirty minutes. She sat on the lawn and leaned against the pole, using her purple cardigan as a back cushion.