Creeping back to the kitchen, I fumbled in the darkened room until my hand found the cell phone on the counter. After punching in one number, I stopped. What use would it be to call the police now? The trespasser was gone. Either they were just passing through, or they’d been scared off when they discovered I was awake.
Or I’d imagined it, initiated by the bad dream, and there hadn’t been anyone.
With my luck I’d have to talk to Jimmy Farlow. Why was he always on duty when I needed the police? I was in no mood to spend the next hour listening to his dismissive remarks.
Before returning to bed, I stopped at the linen closet and dug under the stack of towels. The Smith & Wesson 442, a gift from my late husband, was stashed at the back. I’d kept it because Marc wanted me to have protection. I’d stashed it under the bath towels because I hated guns. But I pulled it out, checked to confirm that it was loaded and carried it to my bedroom.
Mason occupied the center of the bed, stretched out on his back. He slept soundly.
I could have adopted an orphaned pit bull instead of an entitled cat.
Shoving the feline to the side, I placed the handgun and cell phone side-by-side on the bedside table. After considering leaving the light on, I switched it off. Unlike the cat, I would never be able to sleep with it on. Light from the hallway seeped under the bedroom door as I drifted off to sleep.
~~
The sun was up and a well-rested cat pawed at my face to wake me. Birds played in the left-over rain drops clinging to the leaves outside the window. In the light of the rising sun, the previous night’s fright seemed silly. Had I dreamed it? The gun was on the table, so I knew I’d been up. Did I imagine the midnight visitor? That was a possibility. My friends were always teasing me about my imagination.
Mason met me in the kitchen after I emerged from the shower. I filled his bowl and while the coffee-maker worked on its job, I took a stroll outside to breathe the freshly cleansed air. I’d never been an early-riser, but when I woke by accident, the cool morning breeze was a treat. The green vegetation was brighter and the flowers stood taller. The ground squished under-foot.
My stroll came to a halt at the little bush under the bedroom window. After stooping for a closer look, I dashed for the house. My phone lay on the counter next to the coffee pot.
Chapter Seventeen
I dropped the phone, retrieved it, and misdialed twice before I got the numbers in the right order. When I’d succeeded, Wallace’s house phone rang five or six times with no answer. I clicked off, inhaled slowly to calm my palpitating heart, and tried his cell. No response. A glance through the living room window confirmed Wallace’s truck wasn’t in his driveway. He wasn’t home.
I knew the next number on my list of emergency contacts would bring an answer. When it didn’t, I could only stare at the phone. The connection had broken after two rings. That had to be a mistake. Jack Spencer always responded to my call. I took my time punching in his number once again, making sure to get it right.
The man, who never failed to make me feel safe, answered. “Good morning. Can I call you back in an hour?”
The instant the deep clear voice came through the phone I felt warm and sort of tingly. If there was anything wrong in the world, Jack would fix it.
Words tumbled from my mouth without prelude. “Jack, someone was in my yard last night. They were lurking by the maple tree, and then they disappeared. You know how it rained? Maybe you didn’t get any rain down there, but we did. It came down most of the night. Anyway, someone was out in my back yard, sneaking around the house.”
“Um, slow down a little. Who was in your yard? Tell me what you saw.”
“Didn’t see much. I only got a glimpse of the man—or the person. Could have been a woman, I guess. You see, I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t go back to sleep. So I was looking out the bedroom window, you know, trying to relax and get sleepy. The storm was coming in and lightning flashed. That’s when I saw a figure standing by the tree out back. But when the yard lit up the next time, they were gone! I didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t go back to sleep with some stranger on the property.”
I paused to catch my breath and charged ahead. “So I went through the house and turned on lights. Then I turned on the outside light. I figured it was the right thing to do and hoped it would scare them away. That plan seemed to work, but now I think maybe it didn’t. This morning I went out back and found footprints in the mud. Someone was snooping all around the back of the house and right up next to the windows.”
“Could’ve been kids, or a peeping Tom. You close your curtains don’t you?”
“Sure. I always shut the draperies and lock the windows. It was raining hard, quite a shower, so I can’t imagine a peeping Tom staying out in it to peek in my windows. I’m not that exciting.”
“You might be surprised. I’ll have to call you b—”
“Anyway, I was so scared I left the lights on all night.”
Jack sighed. I heard it through the receiver. “Did you call the police?”
“No. You know my relationship with our police department. Don’t you remember my encounters with Officer Farlow? I’ll only call him if I’m in mortal danger.”
“I guess I can’t blame you. So, what did Wallace say?”
“He isn’t home. I tried his cell and he didn’t answer. I talked myself out of worrying last night, but this morning, the foot prints have me creeped out. I didn’t know what to do, but I had faith you would.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to speak to the Evelynton Police Department, or wait until Wallace gets home to see what he says. You know I would help, but I’m three hours away and working on a case.”
“Working? Right now?”
He lowered his voice. “Yes. I’m interviewing a client. He’s sort of an important client.”
I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Oh. They’re in your office now?”
“No. I’m in his office. The mayor’s office.”
Crap.
“The mayor. I’m so sorry. Better let you go. I’ll wait for Wallace. Now that I think about it, it’s probably nothing anyway. Sorry for bothering you. Say hello to the mayor. No, don’t do that. Um, talk to you later. Bye.” I clicked off without waiting for Jack’s reply.
I carried my coffee to the table, pulled out a chair and plopped into it. Mason crouched at my feet, and I leaned over to gaze into his eyes. “Why didn’t you warn me? I should have thought it over before I made that call. Maybe I should have had a cup of coffee first? Jack was right. It was probably a harmless peeping Tom who doesn’t know enough to stay out of the rain.”
My cat leapt into my lap and rubbed his head on my chin. “Too late to apologize. You already let me embarrass myself. And all because I got freaked out over some misguided soul.”
I shoved the cat from my lap, and sipped hot coffee. Who would have stood in the rain outside my house that night? Could it have been someone I knew?
Was it Perry Sizemore? He’d made it obvious he’d had designs on me—and a few other women in town—but a peeping tom? No way would he brave the weather for a thrill. Unless of course, there was more to the story of him and Valentina.
Wait. The shadow wasn’t large enough or round enough to be Perry.
Who else? I took a long slurp of coffee, weighing the possibilities.
What about Ted the handyman? He’d been inside my house, and all over the property. But he was a nice man and never anything less than polite. Although he was clean cut when I’d first met him. Neglecting haircuts and shaving shouldn’t make him a suspect.
Who else? Wallace Binion? He’d been acting strange lately, but he was the last person who’d be sneaking around my property. No, not Wallace. He’d helped me on countless occasions.
That left someone I didn’t know. A stranger. Probably some kid, or a drifter. Not dangerous. There was nothing to be worried about.
~~
By lunchtime I’d managed to stay focused o
n my writing long enough to finish an assignment. It was a beautiful portrayal of life in a small town. I’d put the Norman Rockwell lifestyle into words. Right down to the lovely moonlit walks on quiet streets. I was careful to include the security of living in a community of friends and family. Where there were no strangers within fifteen square miles. Tranquil, calm, no worries.
So I’d drifted into fiction. It’s what sold magazines.
Satisfied I’d created a masterpiece that would pay the bills, I placed a call to Anita. Best to seek another opinion of my spooky backyard visitor.
“You’ll never guess what went on here last night.”
After repeating the story, I had to admit it seemed to be a tale concocted of my absurd imagination. Anita wasn’t laughing at me, so I confessed to calling Jack Spencer and not giving him a chance to tell me he was busy.
“Now the man thinks I’m not only out of my mind, but a pest as well.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. So you’re excitable sometimes, he knows how you are.”
“Excitable?” I thought she could have been more encouraging. Spontaneous, would have been a good description.
“Not in a bad way. Besides, he’ll overlook it because he’s smitten with you.”
“Smitten? Do you think so?”
“Of course he is. Why else would he drive all the way up here to spend time with you? Besides, I’ve seen the look on the man’s face when you’re together.”
“It’s nice to think about. But he lives and works three hours away. That makes it impossible to build any kind of relationship.”
I thought about that word for a moment. “Wait. I’m not sure I even want him closer. I’m not ready for the relationship thing. It’s important that I’m able to take care of myself before I fit someone else into the equation. The way I lost control this morning proves I’m still much too needy. I’d wear the guy out.”
“Hmm. Guess you’re right.”
Still waiting for the encouraging words.
“Tonight will be good for you. Clair called, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she told me about the movie party. But you know I’m not good at large gatherings, and I don’t watch romance movies.”
“Give it a chance. It’s just some of the girls stopping over for snacks and Hallmark movies. You know almost everyone. Clair’s hosting it at my house because her apartment is too small.”
“It’s hard to believe Clair would take time away from work for anything, let alone to watch romance movies.”
“Yes, I know. Isn’t it great? She’s making some changes, enjoying life more. Something you should do, too. But we’re firm on romantic flicks, no mysteries or suspense. I think it’s perfect timing. You could use a break from cops and robbers. Let’s watch something sweet and happy.”
“There’s never anything to think about in those movies. You always know how it’s going to work out and who gets the girl—after the one heart-breaking misunderstanding.”
“Exactly. Isn’t it comforting? That’s why I love them.”
“I thought you’d become a mystery buff.”
“Only in short bouts. I love happy endings, don’t you? Come over. We’ll have fun.”
~~
That evening, I said good-bye to Mason on my way out. “Keep the sofa warm for me. I’ll be gone an hour at most. Planning an early exit, just before the sappy movies start.”
Anita’s rambling farmhouse sat three miles out of town. Towering sunflowers swayed at the side of the house. A long, fruit-tree-lined lane led to the house. The scene was a picture of domestic bliss, right out of one of those darn romance movies. Anita and her husband, Jake, weren’t farmers, even though they had a nice vegetable garden. The out-buildings, that completed the farming picture, housed rakes, barbecue grill, and snow mobiles.
When I stepped out of the car, two over-weight Golden Retrievers galloped to greet me. After slobbering on my hand, they followed me to the house, tails wagging and tongues hanging. The party sounded as if it was in full swing inside, so I opened the door to let myself in. The crowded living room—more women than I’d expected—almost moved me to beat a fast retreat. But Clair caught sight of me before I could slip out. “Lauren, you’re here.”
Anita’s third monster dog, a chocolate lab named Gordon, lay in the middle of the room. His head remained flat on the floor and his tail thumped as I stepped over him. I made my way to the sofa where Clair sat beside a woman wearing jeans and a fluffy blue blouse. I didn’t know her. In fact, most of the guests were strangers to me.
I passed Patricia Martin, dress shop owner. Her stylish sweater and slacks must have been among the newest arrivals at her shop. The woman beside her seemed familiar, and I should have remembered her name, but hadn’t a clue. Patricia broke off her conversation to introduce me to Francis somebody, who worked at the post office.
I moved on and did a double-take at a woman slumped into an overstuffed chair in the corner. “Hi, Ava. Hardly recognized you outside of the Java.” She smiled and mouthed the word “Hi” before resting her head on the back of the chair. I was pretty sure she’d be asleep soon.
Irma, the police station file clerk, perched on a footstool next to Ava. She took a sip from her wine glass and shrugged. “Ava gets up early to open the coffee shop.”
Anita poked her head out from the kitchen and called above the chatter. “So glad you made it. I think you know everyone, except maybe Cindy.” She pointed to the woman beside Clair. “She’s an old friend. First person I met when I started attending First Evangelical. We’ve been great friends ever since.”
I did my best to imitate someone who was happy to be part of the group. Even participated in small-talk while squeezed into the end of the sofa, next to Clair.
Gordon maintained sentinel in the center of the room. His brown eyes followed Anita while she stepped over and around him, to hand Clair an iced-tea.
“What can I get you? We have tea, coffee, pop, two kinds of wine—sweet or dry.”
I requested tea. My mind already constructing a believable excuse for early departure.
Clair leaned toward Cindy. “Lauren is a writer. She’s the top contributor to several big magazines. We’re so proud of her.”
“That’s exciting. Tell me about your writing. I can’t imagine how you know what to write about. Where do you get your ideas?”
I explained that ideas were always floating around in my head, mostly about mysterious murders. Cindy smiled and focused on Clair, to ask about her health.
Someone flipped the television on and sweet romantic music filled the room. I turned away so I wouldn’t get drawn into the plot. I ended up facing Irma.
“Have they learned anything new about the death of your neighbor?”
“Melvin says it was suicide, so he’s done working on it.”
“How did he determine that? Did they get the forensics back?”
“Nope. He says there wasn’t any evidence to the contrary, and he’s been in the business long enough to trust his gut.” Irma leaned toward me. “Personally, I think he needs an antacid.”
“How much experience has Melvin had? I know he’s experienced in basic law enforcement but how many unexplained deaths have there been in Evelynton? Nothing ever happens in this quiet little village.”
Irma raised her eyebrows.
I back-tracked. “Well, there was that murder right after I moved back to town. And Patsy tried to shoot me. And then the body in the ravine, about a year later. I did almost get shot before that one was solved. But before that, Evelynton hadn’t had any homicides. Had they?”
“Wasn’t that enough?” Irma drained her glass and held it up to Anita for a refill.
Didn’t have an answer to that, so I shrugged. “You haven’t heard anything else about the body in the garage?”
“Nope. Case closed. Can’t wait until someone else moves into that house. They can take care of the lawn.”
Patricia had been listening to our exchange. She chimed i
n with, “I think I met the mummy woman last year. A woman was in my shop and her name was something funny. Might have been Utkin. She bought several of my higher priced dresses. Had me wondering where she was going to wear them. I only keep them in stock to make my inventory look better.” She drained her wine glass. “I had to dust them off before she tried them on.”
“That’s interesting. Did she say why she wanted the dresses? What did she talk about?”
“I don’t think she mentioned where she planned to wear elegant frocks like those. Really don’t think we discussed anything in particular. I was happy to get them sold.”
Ava woke up and lurched forward in her chair. Blinking at me, she said, “Hi Lauren. When did you get here?” I smiled back at her bleary grin and she turned to Patricia. “I almost forgot to ask. Did you get my support hose in?”
I let the two of them discuss the advantages of vein support, and turned my attention to Clair. “Are you crying? What’s wrong?”
She pointed at the television and sniffed. “Chrissy and Phil broke up. She said their lifestyles were too different. She’s a farm girl and he’s a big city attorney, but I can tell they really need each other.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll get back together.”
“Do you think so?”
Two hours later I pushed myself off the sofa and said my good-byes, hugging Anita at the door. I had to admit she’d been right. I walked out refreshed after a pleasant evening. It had been stress-free—except for Clair’s tears over two fictional characters.
Like parking attendants, two dogs met me at the door and escorted me to the station wagon. I rewarded each with a pat on the head and climbed into the Chrysler.
An unexplainable peace had settled over the land. Clouds obscured the night sky. Not a sign of the moon or a star. My headlights barely pierced the darkness on the country roads. The dark roads and lack of visible landmarks should have worried me, but I found it soothing. I reached Evelynton city limits and followed the street lights toward home.
Murderous Heart Page 10