I Shall Not Want

by Debbie Viguié

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  She looked up at him, not wanting to hurt him, but needing him to know what she was thinking.

  He looked deep into her eyes and then smiled at her. “It’s okay, you know.”

  “What is?”

  “To just be friends.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. There’s no spark for either of us, and that’s okay. No reason to try and force it.”

  “You are a mind reader. And a good friend,” she said, gripping his hand, and realizing how easy it was to do so now that there was no expectation behind it.

  He laughed and swung her arm back and forth slightly as they walked outside.

  She looked at him. “You are going to make some lucky woman very happy.”

  Suddenly, she heard a commotion and saw a flash go off. She turned and froze like a deer in the headlights when she saw reporters staring at them. A couple more flashes went off, and she instinctively pulled closer to Joseph until she remembered seeing the picture of them in the newspapers the morning before.

  She dropped his hand and took a distancing step. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Whatever it is, it isn’t good,” Joseph muttered.

  “Hey, that’s him!” she heard one of the reporters shout.

  Suddenly, they were at the center of a press of bodies, half of them with cameras or microphones.

  “Joseph, care to explain how people keep ending up dead around you?”

  “Is it just a coincidence that you’re here today, or did the police call you?”

  “First your assistant and now one of your charity cases. Are you cursed?”

  Dead. Charity cases. The words echoed in Cindy’s mind. She thought of the old woman they had talked with on their way into the theater. Had something happened to her?

  Cindy turned her head, and through the crowd of reporters she saw a line of yellow police tape and some uniformed officers.

  “No,” she whispered, pushing her way forward. She had to know. The reporters pressed in harder against her, determined to get answers. She pushed back hard, and finally bodies began to give way. She broke free of the crowd and ran toward the barricade, where an officer grabbed her and stopped her from moving forward.

  On the other side of the line, she saw the little dog, Ginger, pacing back and forth next to some huddled people. She felt her stomach lurch, and then her eyes fell on Ginger’s owner. The old woman was alive and talking with Paul, the detective.

  She felt someone brush up against her, and a moment later Joseph called out. Paul looked up and then waved them through. Cindy slipped under the tape and was grateful that the reporters could not follow.

  “What happened?” she burst out.

  “Bernadette here found a body,” Paul said, scowling.

  Cindy turned toward Bernadette. The old woman had clearly been crying. Her eyes were puffy and swollen. “Are you okay?”

  Bernadette shook her head. “I knew something bad had happened to Sammy, I just knew it. I walked all around the theater looking for him and Buddy. I saw his hat first,” she said, pointing.

  Cindy turned to look, and by a row of bushes an old battered hat was lying on the ground, a handful of crinkled bills still inside it. An investigator stood over a dark shape in the bushes, which Cindy realized must be Sammy.

  “He’s dead?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

  Bernadette nodded, and Joseph slipped an arm around her skinny shoulders. “I called 911 on my phone,” Bernadette continued. “It’s prepaid. Sammy gave it to me last year for emergencies. He always said to call 911 if I got in trouble or something bad happened. I never dreamed I’d be using it because something bad happened to him,” she said, fresh tears streaking down her cheeks.

  Cindy looked away as a lump formed in her throat. She knew what it was like to see the body of someone you cared about, to be shocked by sudden, tragic death. Her eyes roved the crime scene looking for another familiar figure but didn’t find him.

  Cindy turned to Paul. “Where’s Mark?”

  “He had more pressing concerns today,” Paul said, grimacing.

  She had no idea what could be more pressing, but she was sure she didn’t want to know. Her eyes drifted back to the dark figure in the bushes and to the forsaken hat on the pavement.

  “It can’t have been a robbery. Otherwise they would have taken the money from the hat,” Cindy said.

  “Thanks, but I think we already came to that conclusion ourselves,” Paul snapped.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No. Someone is dead. I’m never okay when faced with the destruction of human life. Also, unlike my partner, I don’t have much tolerance for amateur detectives.”

  Cindy blinked at his brusque tone.

  “I’m not an amateur detective. We talked to Bernadette before we went into the theater. I was afraid something had happened to her given what the reporters who mobbed us were saying.”

  Paul muttered something under his breath that sounded unflattering to the reporters.

  Meanwhile Bernadette was still crying and talking. “And I called and called, but there was no sign of Buddy.”

  “His dog is missing?” Cindy asked sharply.

  Bernadette nodded.

  “Is it possible he ran away or Sammy left him someplace else?”

  Bernadette shook her head and pointed toward the body.

  Cindy looked and saw what she had missed earlier. There, in the pool of blood, were dog prints, much larger than any Ginger could have made. Whatever had happened to Buddy happened after Sammy was killed. “Another missing dog? And this one not one of Joseph’s puppies?”

  “Yeah, yet funny that the dog was still connected to him. It was one of the ones adopted Friday night.”

  And suddenly it struck her. “Joseph’s a suspect, isn’t he?”

  “Lady, everyone’s a suspect,” Paul snapped. “Your boyfriend isn’t anything special in that regard.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” Cindy protested, though it seemed such a foolish thing to quibble about as the coroner began to remove Sammy’s body.

  It made no sense. Buddy didn’t have a diamond-studded collar or even a crystal one. This couldn’t be the work of jewel thieves. Could it be completely unrelated? Somehow she didn’t think so. The timing was just too weird. “Joseph, I wanted to ask you, do you know for sure that you still have Clarice’s diamond collar?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you sure that someone didn’t steal it and leave a crystal one in its place?”

  “I can find out as soon as I get her back. She’s wearing the real one, or at least, she was.”

  “You know, even women know enough to leave the real jewels in the safe and wear the copies,” Paul said.

  Joseph shrugged, an embarrassed look on his face.

  “Ms. Preston, you can go home. We’re done with you for now,” Paul said.

  She opened her mouth to protest and then snapped it shut. She glanced uneasily over her shoulder at the mob of reporters. Paul followed her gaze. “I’ll have someone escort you to your car.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  A uniformed officer moved close and walked with her toward the parking lot. When they left the cordoned-off area, a couple of reporters rushed forward, but he shot them a look so full of menace that even Cindy wanted to run away from him.

  “I’m glad you’re on my side,” she admitted as the reporters backed off.

  “Just doing my job, ma’am,” he said.

  They made it to her car, and he stood guard as she put it in reverse and exited the parking space. As soon as she hit the boulevard, she relaxed slightly. She thought about the pictures that might show up in the paper, though, and realized she should make a couple of phone calls when she got home. The last thing she needed was another wake-up call from her mother.

  6

  AS IT TURNED OUT, SHE GOT AN EARLY-MORNING WAKE-UP
CALL ANYWAY, but it was from Mark. She avoided asking him where he’d been the day before and agreed to meet with him and answer some more questions on her lunch break. After hanging up the phone, she dragged herself out of bed. Despite having played nearly two hours of solitaire trying to calm down, she hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly four a.m., and then she had had nightmares about speed dating. Every time the bell rang, a different dog jumped up into the chair opposite her instead of a guy.

  She checked her e-mail and saw the alert reminding her that she had signed up to go to a timeshare presentation that evening. She was sure she wasn’t in the mood to go, no matter what prizes they tempted her with.

  Nothing else caught her eye, so a couple of minutes later she climbed into the shower and promptly fell asleep sitting on the bench along the back while trying to shave her legs. She woke up when the hot water ran out. She considered walking to work, afraid that she’d fall asleep driving even though the church was only a couple of minutes away. Ultimately, she forced herself to run three times around the car, breathing in the cold air before getting behind the wheel.

  She staggered into work a couple of minutes late, and Geanie looked up from her desk with a smirk. “Late night?”

  “Don’t ask,” Cindy groaned as she sank into her chair. It was a Monday, and those never seemed to go well. She was sure there was some fresh disaster waiting in the pile of papers on her desk or in her e-mail, and she wished she could find a way to avoid it all and go back to bed.

  “Oh, but inquiring minds want to know. Besides, it’s more fun to hear about it from you than to read it in the paper.”

  Cindy groaned and slammed her head down onto her desk. She had managed not to think about the newspapers yet that morning. “What do they say?” she asked, without lifting her head.

  “That a homeless man was murdered yesterday and that Joseph and his girlfriend, Cindy, were among the people questioned by police at the scene.”

  “Oh, no,” she moaned. “Not good. No one will ever believe I’m not his girlfriend now.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No!”

  “Didn’t you go to the movies together yesterday?”

  “Yes, but we realized we’re nothing more than friends, and we’re both happy that way.”

  “Oh. Really?”

  “Yes, really,” Cindy said, raising her head, wondering why Geanie was obsessing on that and not commenting that Cindy had managed to stumble into yet another crime scene. She cleared her throat. “So what fresh torture awaits us this morning?”

  “Wildman is going a little crazy trying to nail down the last-minute details on the food drive.”

  “Of course he is.”

  Wildman was the nickname for the church’s youth pastor, a great guy who had been accused more than once of being bipolar. Still, dealing with teenagers could make just about anyone that way, Cindy figured.

  “So what exactly is the problem, and does it require us to do anything?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t know. Sorry, not very helpful.”

  Cindy sighed. “That’s okay. Anything else I should know about?”

  “Um. He also mentioned that deposit money is going to start coming in this week for the high school weekend camp in March.”

  “Oh, goody, deposit money. I think I’m sick.”

  “You’re not sick.”

  “Well, I wish I was. Does homesick count?”

  “Sorry, can’t give it to you,” Geanie said. “At least it’s a short week thanks to Thanksgiving.”

  “Let us give thanks.”

  “Nice one.”

  Cindy turned on her computer and waited for it to boot up. Thanksgiving. Still no invitations, and she was beginning to wonder what she was going to do.

  “Are you going to your folks’ house for Thanksgiving?” Cindy asked.

  Geanie shook her head. “They’re celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary by taking a cruise. Looks like I’ll be flying solo this year.”

  “Me too. Hey, I know, why don’t you come over to my house, and we can do Thanksgiving together?”

  “Seriously?”

  Cindy knew it was probably the sleep deprivation talking, but it did seem like a good idea. “Yeah. I don’t have anywhere to go this year, either. There’s nothing to say we can’t make Thanksgiving dinner ourselves.”

  “I don’t know. You’ve never seen me in the kitchen.”

  “Okay, then I can make it. You can bring pie.”

  “Is it cool if it comes from a store?”

  “Absolutely,” Cindy said, turning to look as the office door opened and Joseph walked in. Speak of the devil.

  “You’re on,” Geanie said.

  “What’s on?” Joseph asked.

  “Thanksgiving at Cindy’s,” Geanie said.

  “Really? What does a guy have to do to get an invite?”

  “You don’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving?” Cindy asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t have any family, and I usually take the holiday to travel somewhere. The police want me sticking close by, though, in light of everything that’s been happening.”

  “You’re not a suspect?” Geanie asked, horrified.

  “There are a lot of connections to me, and I guess they want to be able to get hold of me whenever they have a question.”

  Cindy wanted to know what they had asked Joseph after they had escorted her from the scene the night before. He looked almost as tired as she felt, but otherwise he seemed none the worse for wear. He turned to look at her and gave her a weary smile.

  “We’d love to have you join our misfit Thanksgiving,” Cindy said.

  “But you have to bring sparkling cider,” Geanie said.

  “Easy enough. Will a case do?”

  Cindy burst out laughing. “There’s only going to be three of us.”

  “So far. These things have a way of spinning out of control,” Joseph said, giving Geanie a wink.

  “In that case, I’d better bring two pies,” Geanie said, blushing.

  “So what can we help you with today?” Cindy asked.

  “I was driving by on my way to pick up Clarice, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “You can pick her up?”

  He frowned. “They called and said I could come get her. They got DNA samples off her. They think she was in a fight with another animal.”

  “It took long enough.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Let me know about the collar.”

  “You got it,” he said. “Well, if everything is under control here, I’ll be on my way.”

  “We’re fine,” Cindy assured him.

  “See you Thursday,” Geanie added.

  Cindy watched the expression on Geanie’s face as Geanie watched Joseph leave and suddenly knew why Geanie had questioned her so sharply about their relationship. “So, maybe you should date Joseph,” she teased once the door had closed.

  Geanie tossed her hair over her shoulder but refused to say a word.

  Cindy briefly considered forcing Geanie to admit it, but her silence spoke volumes. Cindy stared at her contemplatively. Geanie was wild, unorthodox, and a bit of a free spirit. Cindy wondered how she would do paired up with the more practical, traditional Joseph.

  Either it would be a match made in heaven or… someplace else, Cindy thought to herself.

  She shrugged. It would be interesting to watch the two of them at the dinner. They were both great people, and if they could find happiness together, then she would be thrilled for them. If they could be happy together, then maybe someday I’ll find someone too.

  She thought of the computer programmer and their upcoming date. Then she instantly felt guilty about it as she thought of the dead men. That had always been her problem, though. When she was faced with death, she didn’t know how to get on with life. She could feel a dark mood creeping over her, and she stood up abruptly, determined not to let it t
ake root.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find out what Wildman’s problem is with the food drive.”

  “You’re a braver soul than I.”

  Wanna bet?

  She found the youth pastor in the teen room, scribbling furiously on the chalkboard. He didn’t seem to hear her come in.

  “Dave?”

  He jumped, dropped the chalk, and spun to look at her, eyes bulging from his head.

  She took a step backward. “Sorry to startle you.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Not your fault. I’m just concentrating too hard.”

  “The food drive?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, retrieving the chalk.

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  “I’m trying to work out how I’m going to get enough teams to deliver all the food.”

  “Okay. Can you be a bit more specific?”

  He waved at the board. “We’ve adopted ten families from the community and collected enough food to give them all really great Thanksgiving meals. We’re scheduled to deliver all the boxes Wednesday afternoon, after the kids get out of school.”

  “All right, with you so far.”

  “We’re only sending one team to each house and then all meeting afterward at the homeless shelter to donate some more food and to help with food preparation for the next day.”

  “Sounds like a great plan.”

  “It is. The problem is that only eight of the thirty-nine kids who have volunteered to deliver food have driver’s licenses. I can take a group, but that still leaves us a driver and a car short.”

  “No other kids can do it?”

  He shook his head. “A lot have extracurriculars at that time of day, or they’re going out of town with their families, or don’t have access to a car, or just really don’t want to do it.”

  “How about one of the parents or one of the college kids who worked as camp counselors?”

  “Believe me, I’ve tried everyone.” He put down the chalk and turned to stare glumly at her. A second later a smile tugged at his lips.

  “Dave, don’t look at me like that.”

  “What, it would be work related.”

  “No.”