While She Slumbered: The Murder Blog Mysteries #5

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  On my way to Nina’s, I peered under every bush and surveyed every tree and roof, continually calling his name. I arrived at her front door with a heavy heart.

  “What do you want?” Donna’s hair was freshly bleached to brassy-white, and styled into a hideous spiky do.

  “First off—your hair! Wow!” I said.

  “Thank you.” Looking pleased with the uncompliment, she mopped her damp brow on her forearm, and I spotted her long stiletto-sharp purple and green plaid acrylics.

  I grasped the screen door handle and pulled it wide open. “The reason I’m here is that I need to see Nina. It’s terribly urgent.”

  “Sorry. No can do. She’s already in bed. We had an early dinner, and she was exhausted.”

  “Is she doing okay? How’s her cold?”

  “Much better. The zinc really did the trick. Or maybe it was just allergies. Anyway, we had a big day.” Donna furrowed her black bushy brows. “Hopefully, we didn’t overdo it. We went shopping at Walmart. Then had our hair and nails done. Then a nice dinner.”

  “Your nails are really something. Very eye-catching.” Very hideous, too. “Where’d you have dinner? It must have been early because it’s only quarter after five now.”

  “Burger King. We love their Whoppers.”

  “Hey—who doesn’t? Now that she’s over her cold, I would imagine you’ll be going home soon.”

  She shrugged. “As long as I have access to the internet, I can work anywhere, so I’m in no hurry. I can stay indefinitely.” She started closing the door. “I’ll tell her in the morning that you came by.”

  I put my hand on the door. “Wait. You need to know what I was going to tell Nina.”

  Donna widened the gap, gazing at me expectantly.

  “I saw Mr. Snickers jump over the fence into the yard next door a little while ago.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud. That damned cat got out again?” Looking irate, she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Say, does this have anything to do with your dog? I heard a dog barking out front earlier.”

  “We were walking by, minding our own business, and then Daisy spied Mr. Snickers in the front yard. So, yeah, she acted like a dog and barked.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “So it’s your fault the cat is gone, huh?”

  “No, it’s your fault.” My brain was screaming, Shut up, Katy! “You’re the one who put the dog door in. Without Nina’s permission, I might add.”

  “Okay, we’re done here.” The door was closing. I stopped the action with my foot.

  “No, we’re not. I need a photo of the cat so I can make flyers to put up around the neighborhood.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Now, if you don’t mind,” she glanced down at my doorstop foot, “I’d like to get back to work.”

  This evening

  I didn’t want to wait until Donna scrounges up a photo of Snickers, which will probably never happen, so I found an image online that could be his doppelganger and posted it in the “Santa Lucia Lost and Found Pets” group on Facebook. I also posted on Craigslist. Fingers crossed!

  Chapter Eleven

  Friday • June 12

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  If at first, you don’t succeed, try, try, try again.

  ~ William Edward Hickson ~

  Afternoon

  * * *

  I figured that needing a photo of Snickers was a good excuse to try and see Nina again; however, standing at her front gate, I hesitated. I stood a good chance of getting rejected again.

  Maybe if I had a treat. That’s a neighborly thing to do.

  I had a plastic bag of baked chocolate chip cookies stored in the freezer for cookie emergencies. I hurried home and dug them out. They looked like they had frost bite, but after prying them apart and heating in the toaster oven, they smelled delicious. I nibbled one and it was pretty good for a cookie that had been frozen for over a year.

  Back at Nina’s house, I rang the bell and plastered a cheery smile on my face. Donna took her sweet time. Just as my grin was wilting, she answered, holding Baby Girl and wearing a yellow terrycloth strapless romper that made me miss her muumuus.

  “Hi, Donna. I thought I’d drop by and see if Mr. Snickers came back.”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh, no. I was so hoping. How is Nina handling it? She must be absolutely devastated.”

  “I haven’t told her.”

  “You’re saying she hasn’t noticed that her cat is gone?”

  Donna snuggled her dog. “Aunt Nina’s memory is fading. I think she may have Alzheimer’s.”

  My hand involuntarily scrunched the cookie bag. “She was sharp as a tack when you came for brunch.”

  “Was she? Really? Maybe you chose to ignore the obvious signs. She’s elderly, so it’s inevitable.”

  No it’s not! I held up the mangled, greased stained paper bag of warm cookies. “I brought a treat. Fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. Maybe we could all have coffee?”

  Donna shook her head. “Aunt Nina is a little under the weather today. Upset tummy, so no cookies for her. She’s napping now.” She opened the screen door wide enough to snatch the bag. “I’ll give them to her when she’s feeling better.” She pulled a cookie out and tasted it. “Not bad.”

  “Did you find a photo of Mr. Snickers I can use for the flyers?”

  “Not yet.”

  Did you even bother to look for one? “What’s a good time to come back for one?”

  “There isn’t one.” She shoved the rest of the cookie in her mouth and shut the door. Once again, her rudeness shocked me. You’d think I’d be used to it.

  Across the street, Randy was waxing his car. I watched from the curb for a moment, thinking, wax on, wax off. He waved, so I crossed the street to say hi.

  “Any luck seeing Nina?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. Her niece seems to always have a reason why I can’t. Today she says Nina is under the weather with a sick stomach. Yesterday it was all about how tired she was from getting her hair and nails done, shopping, and a fancy dinner at Burger King. She was so worn out that she was already in bed when I went over just after five. And the days before that, she had a cold.”

  Randy shook his head with a peculiar expression on his face. “Are you sure about the shopping and all that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Yesterday, I saw Donna leave in the morning and not return until late afternoon. I noticed that her hair was different when she got back. And she was carrying a Burger King bag. But Nina wasn’t with her.”

  The minute I got home, I added everything to the “Nina and Donna Timeline.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Saturday • June 13

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Josh’s housesitting cousin, Dillon, and his college buddies partied till dawn. Again. This morning I read the local noise ordinance online.

  The noise ordinance for the City of Santa Lucia is a 24/7 regulation. Between 10:00 p.m. and 7:00 a.m., it is a violation to make or allow any loud noise that can be heard across your property line. Loud noise includes music and other sounds such as a TV, music, power tools, or voices at a gathering.

  Evidently, Dillon thinks that three a.m. is a perfectly acceptable time to be blasting music. If you can call it that. Sorry, hip-hop and rap are not my thing. These thoughtless kids only think of themselves nowadays.

  Whoa. Who am I? Where did cool Katy go?

  She grew up, that’s where. Just call me “Geezer Katy.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sunday • June 14

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Lunch

  * * *

  Sam and I met at Suzy Q’s. It’s vegetarian with a boho vibe, and the food is so good that even an ardent meat-lover like my dad enjoys eating there. We usually sit on the patio, but it was borderline hot, so we sat inside by a window.

  Samantha sighed. “I needed a break. Spencer took the kids to the beach. Hopefully, he’
ll wear out Casey. I miss the days when he took an afternoon nap.”

  “You can always plunk him in front of the TV and let him play video games all day. That’s what the cool parents do,” I said, knowing I’d get a rise out of her.

  “No! Are you crazy? It’s not healthy for his developing brain.” She stopped, giving me a peeved look. “Okay, you got me. Although there are days when I’d sure like to. I think kids should be outside playing. The Parks and Rec summer program starts tomorrow and he’s signed up.”

  “He’ll love it. We sure did.”

  “I hope so. Let’s order first before we launch into a talking marathon,” she said. “I’m starving. I’ve dropped a couple pounds, so I need to feed this baby.” She patted her belly and opened the menu. “Let’s see. What looks good?”

  “Stand up a sec. Let me see your baby bump.”

  Sam stood, turned sideways, arched her back, and held her bright lime green top close to her body. “Not much to see yet.”

  A server came for our order. “Ladies! How’s it going today? Did you see the specials on the chalkboard?”

  “We did, and I’ll have the avocado toast and the microgreens salad,” I said.

  “Excellent choice. The pickled onions on the toast are incredible.”

  “What? No fries?” said Sam. “I’m shocked. I’m going to have the grilled tuna burger with a dinner salad and an order of garlic fries.”

  The waiter took our menus and said he’d be back in a jif with our drinks.

  “I’ll split my fries with you.” Sam leaned forward, elbows resting on the mosaic tiled table. “I read yesterday’s blog this morning. Anything new today on Nina? Did her cat come back?”

  “If he did, I wouldn’t know.” I beamed adoringly at her. “Sam? Best friend of mine? Did I tell you how great your hair looks?”

  She rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”

  “I have a huge favor to ask you.”

  “What?”

  “The other day at Benny’s, you said it’s too soon to call social services, but Donna doesn’t know that.”

  She grimaced. “Oh, boy. What kind of scheme are you concocting?”

  “I want you to go to Nina’s house and say you’re a nurse—”

  “Which I am.”

  “A geriatric nurse—”

  “That’s a pretty big stretch from maternity nurse.”

  “You’re with social services, and you’re doing your once-a-month check-in with Nina.”

  Her eyes darted around the crowded restaurant, probably trying to think of a nice way to say no. “When do you want this caper to go down?”

  I felt excitement bubbling up. “You mean you’ll do it?”

  “Yes. There are so many cases of elder abuse that go undiscovered until it’s too late. We need to be proactive.” She glanced up at our approaching waiter.

  “House-made lemonade for you,” he said, with a smile of approval to Sam. And then plunked a water in front of me. “Flat tap for you.”

  “Thank you. Our city water is great!”

  “If you say so. Your orders will be out soon.”

  I watched the water snob scurry away before resuming our conversation. “Could we do it this afternoon, Sam?”

  “I love how you say, ‘we.’ I’ll make you a deal. I’m willing to do it but not yet. I know I said it was too soon to call social services the other day, but what do I know? How many days has this Donna person been here now?”

  “Let me think. She arrived on a Tuesday.” I scrolled on my phone to the calendar. “We’re at twelve days now.”

  “And the last time you actually saw Nina was your brunch?”

  “Correct.”

  “So, it’s only been a week since you’ve seen Nina. I often go months without seeing some of my neighbors. Plus, you heard her calling from the bathtub a few days ago, and other than being cold, she sounded fine, right?”

  “Yes. But generally, if the weather is nice—”

  “Which is pretty much all the time here,” she said.

  “True. Anyway, I usually see her out in the front yard when I walk Daisy. Puttering in the garden or sitting on the porch—reading a book, or talking to friends on her phone. Unless I’m in a rush, I always stop to say hi. A few days ago, Donna said she’s pretty much over the cold, so why isn’t she back to her normal routine? All I can think is Donna is—”

  “What? Holding her prisoner?”

  I shrugged, realizing how crazy that sounded.

  “All right. I think it’s definitely time to call social services and make a report about your concerns. Have you been writing everything down like I suggested, so you have something to refer to. Especially, if they ask a bunch of questions?”

  “Yes, I have. Dates, times, all of it.”

  “Good. It’ll make you sound credible rather than just a nosy neighbor.”

  “Good to know I’m a credible busybody.”

  “You know what I mean.” Sam picked up her phone. “Hold on, I’m looking up elder abuse on the social services site.” She scrolled the screen. “Here it is. Adult protective services. Types of abuse.” She read for a moment. “I assume she is not being sexually assaulted or beaten.”

  “I can’t imagine she’s been sexually assaulted, but who knows about being beaten?”

  “Lack of clean, appropriate clothes or linens?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Here’s one that probably fits the bill. Caretaker isolates victim by restricting visits and phone calls—may not want to let someone into the home to speak to the victim.”

  “That’s definitely happening.”

  She continued. “Caretaker is violent.”

  “Not to my knowledge, but who knows? She sure is rude with me.”

  “Rude is not violent. What about—medications used to restrain victims?”

  “That certainly would explain the naps,” I said.

  “Or, she’s resting because she is still recovering from a cold.” Sam plucked the mint leaves from her lemonade and sipped. “When you get home, call social services and make a report.”

  “It’s Sunday, so I doubt anyone will answer.”

  “There’s a number for after business hours. I’ll text it to you now. If in a few days, you’re still worried, we’ll try it your way. Deal?”

  “Do you think they’ll call me after they check on her?”

  “Not likely.”

  “Will they tell Donna it was me who called?”

  She shook her head. “The website says all calls are confidential.”

  “All right, I’ll call. But I doubt it will do any good.”

  I saw the server coming and put my hands in my lap. After he set down our meals and left, Sam said, “I have a favor to ask you, too.”

  I snatched a fry and doused it in the aioli. “Name it.”

  “Chelsea needs to practice driving. I get too freaked out. Plus, I don’t want Casey in the car with that maniac, and Spencer is gone too much for her to get in enough practice to ever pass the test. So, you’re it—Auntie Katy.”

  “No problem. Should be fun teaching the maniac.”

  She snickered. “Famous last words.”

  “I sure hope not!”

  As soon as I got home, I called social services. As I relayed my concerns, I realized that I did sound like a busybody neighbor with too much free time on my hands. Next thing you know, I’ll be sitting at my front window policing the neighborhood through binoculars.

  They assured me they would look into the matter as soon as possible. Did that mean today? Tomorrow? Sometime this year?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Monday • June 15

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Earsplitting jack-hammering roused me this morning. After peeling Tabitha off the crown of my head, I checked the time. Seven-fifty. I threw on some clothes, then set out on a recon mission to discover the source of the annoying racket and wound up at Nina’s.

  The scene I beheld left m
e completely gobsmacked.

  The picket fence and gate were flattened to the ground. A tree removal truck with a wood chipper hitched to the backend and a cherry picker crane on top was parked in the yard. A man wielding a chainsaw stood in the basket, sky-high in the tree, sawing off the stately sycamore’s leafy limbs. Nina’s blue jay pal, Jasper, squawked his disapproval from a high branch.

  The heirloom roses had been dug up and tossed on top of a pile of rubble in a commercial dumpster. A heavily tattooed, muscular man in a sleeveless t-shirt was jack-hammering the mossy brick walk into crumbling chunks.

  A rusty white van with a faded logo on the side sat in the driveway. The Final Touch Home Remodeling. Quality Work Done Cheap!

  Three men sat on the porch steps, staring at their phones and sipping takeout coffee.

  Donna slammed through the screen door, hollering, “I’m not paying you to sit there slurping your fancy-schmancy lattes. I’m paying you to work! So get to it!” Her eyes flicked in my direction. She crossed her arms, and narrowed her eyes, daring me to say something.

  I kept my mouth shut and went home to ponder this new development.

  After a shower and breakfast, it was pushing nine-thirty—time to go back and ask what’s going on. Yes, it was obvious what was going on—but why was Nina’s award-winning garden being demolished? Why would Nina allow this to happen? Maybe she really does have Alzheimer’s.

  Hand on the front door handle, I hesitated. Maybe I need another cup of coffee before confronting Donna. I had started for the kitchen, when I heard paws scratching on the door. Not knowing what was on the other side, I cautiously cracked the door to peek out. Baby Girl barreled through, wagging her feathery tail with a guilty grin that revealed a healthy set of choppers.