While She Slumbered: The Murder Blog Mysteries #5

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  “Uh…oh! What’re you doing here?”

  She rolled over, submitting her furry tummy for a rub that I lavishly bestowed. “You naughty girl. Your mother must be having a panic attack. Well, at least I have a good excuse to go over there now. Your timing couldn’t be better.”

  Daisy strolled into the house through the dog door. When she saw Baby Girl sprawled on her back, she rushed in for a sniff. The little dog scrambled to her feet, and the two of them raced through the house having a blast. Donna’s dog probably never has “doggy fun” so I went ahead and made myself a cup of coffee while they romped.

  Steamy mug in hand, I sat on the easy chair in the living room and watched the dogs play tug-of-war with an old slipper. I sipped my coffee while savoring the thought of Donna panicking about her missing dog. Then, in no rush to relieve her misery, I poured another cup.

  Nina’s front door was wide open. I stepped in and called hello. After my second “Hello!” I moved into the living room and yelled, “Nina? Donna?”

  Donna came down the hall. Her eyes bugged out when she saw Baby Girl in my arms. “Oh, my God! What the hell’re you doing with my dog?”

  “Instead of yelling at me, you should be thanking me. She showed up on my doorstep.” I handed the dog to her. “You’re welcome for me rescuing her before she got hit by a car.”

  Donna clutched Baby Girl. “With all the commotion here, I didn’t realize she was gone.”

  Darn it! I had hoped she was losing her mind with worry.

  She held the dog out at arm’s length facing her, and sharply said, “Shame on you! Why did you run away?”

  “Uh, maybe because the door is open and the noise and machinery scared her.” I shrugged. “That’d be my guess, but what do I know?”

  I was rewarded with a scowl.

  “So, what’s going on here?” I made a big show of looking out the front door. “Nina hasn’t mentioned a thing about demolishing the yard. Her garden is the envy of the neighborhood, so I’m surprised, to say the least. Last year they did a feature on her garden in the Santa Lucia Living magazine. They had a contest and her yard won first place.”

  “If you must know, I’m helping my aunt get the house ready for sale. We’re updating to appeal to a younger demographic. Families are not interested in a high maintenance yard. Plus, those old bushes and trees were blocking light into the house.”

  A couple, maybe in their mid-forties, dressed in white coveralls, entered the room and spread a measuring tape across the wood floor. “Fourteen, six,” said the tall, lean man. “Okay, Karen. Let’s run it the other way.” He snapped up the tape measure, eyeing me. “Would you mind stepping aside, please?”

  I shuffled to the opposite side of the mahogany wainscoted room, and Donna followed.

  Karen, a big-boned curvy redhead, wearing a blue bandanna wrapped around her head like Rosie the Riveter, said to her partner, “Joe? Do you know if we’re keeping the fireplace?”

  Before he could answer, Donna said, “No, it’s dated. We’re bringing this house into the twenty-first century.”

  “It’s not dated. It’s vintage,” I blurted. “The house was built in the early 1930s, and the fireplace is classic Craftsman style. It goes with the period of the home. Buckingham Palace is dated, too, you know, by several hundred years, and you don’t see the royal family updating it to the twenty-first century, do you? No. You don’t. Because that would be nuts.”

  “Who cares?” said Donna. “We’re taking out that wall anyway to open up the space. That’s what buyers want nowadays. People want to be able to see everything from the kitchen.”

  I took a deep inhale, struggling to calm myself before I said too much. “Nowadays, most folks are restoring these old bungalows. You could save a lot of money selling it as is. It’s in perfect condition. Don’t you ever watch any of the restoration shows on TV?”

  “I know what I’m doing. I redid my mother’s old house after she passed and made a ton of money.”

  “Well, excuse me. I didn’t realize you’re a remodeling expert.” I checked my sarcasm, and continued in a quiet NPR monotone. “How about I take Nina over to my house. You know, get her out of all this commotion. It’s got to be driving her crazy.”

  “She’s fine.” Donna snuggled her dog. “Isn’t she, baby? Auntie Nina is just fine.” Then to me, “In fact, she’s taking her morning nap, now.”

  “She can sleep through all the racket?”

  She shrugged. “What can I say? She’s ancient, she’s worn-out, and her hearing isn’t what it used to be. So yeah, she’s sleeping like a baby. Wish I could sleep like she does. Must be nice.”

  The other day Nina told me she hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in decades. “How is she feeling?”

  “She’s doing much better. Still taking lots of vitamins and zinc.”

  The dog struggled in her arms, and she held him tighter. “Baby! Stay still. I can’t put you down. The door is open, and I might lose you.”

  Again. “Speaking of losing a pet, did Mr. Snickers come back?”

  She shook her head with an unconcerned half-shrug like she couldn’t care less, and then herded me towards the front door. “I’ll tell my aunt you dropped by.”

  At the door, I stood my ground. “Not so fast, Donna. I don’t believe you’re telling Nina anything about my visits. I also do not think anyone could sleep through all this commotion. I want to see my friend. Now!” I shoved past her, heading for the hall. “Nina!”

  “You’re trespassing,” screamed Donna. “Time for you to get out!”

  Karen rushed to block the hallway. “I think you need to leave, lady.” She stretched her arms wide, setting a hand on each wall. Her short sleeves inched up to reveal well-muscled arms. One bore a USMC Death Before Dishonor tattoo. The skull was a nice touch. She cocked an eyebrow that clearly said, Try it. I dare you.

  Back at home, I was boiling mad and called Ruby to vent.

  After listening to me rant for a couple minutes, she calmly said, “Katy, maybe this woman is on the up and up and actually trying to help her aunt. Not everybody is sinister, you know. Just because you don’t like her doesn’t make her a bad person.”

  That statement pissed me off, and I struggled not to lose it. “I was threatened by a Marine.”

  “Donna had told you to leave, so that woman must’ve thought you were a threat to Nina.”

  “Whose side are you on, Ruby? I’m telling you, this isn’t right. First off, other than the sniffles, Nina was fine the last time I saw her. Second, just because she’s eighty-seven doesn’t mean she’s ancient or has Alzheimer’s. Everyone ages differently—like you! I think of you as youthful.”

  “How youthful?”

  “Like in your fifties, not seventies.”

  “Well, thank you, although I like to think I’m in my forties, even though my wrinkles and the calendar say otherwise.”

  “I don’t trust Donna, and you wouldn’t either if you met her.”

  “Then I tell you what. I’ll do just that.”

  “What?”

  “Meet the woman. How about I come over on my lunch break?”

  Ruby halted where Nina’s picket fence gate had been and surveyed the torn-up yard. “You said it was bad, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad.”

  “I don’t know how you’re going to make it to the front door in those heels, Ruby.”

  “Oh, poo. I could climb Mount Everest in heels.”

  I followed her to the front door, ready to catch her if she stumbled. She rang the bell, and we waited. She jabbed it again, and Donna yelled, “Hold your horses. I’m coming.”

  I poked Ruby’s arm. “What are you going to say to her?”

  “Not sure. I’ll wing it.”

  A long minute later, Donna opened the door. When her eyes landed on me, she did not look pleased. “What is your problem? I told you she’s napping.”

  “That was hours ago.”

  “Exactly. Auntie Nina had a nice lunch, a
nd now she’s napping.” She swung her cold gaze to Grandma. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Katy’s grandmother, Ruby. Nina and I are good friends.” Ruby’s tone was bubbly. “We go way back. She invited me for lunch today. By the way—love your muumuu. Very trendy.” She turned to me. “Sweetie, thank you for walking me over. You can go home now.” And to Donna, “This will give you a laugh. Katy didn’t think I could walk through the yard in my heels.”

  Donna crossed her arms, looking suspicious. “When did my aunt invite you?”

  “The other day,” fibbed Ruby. “In the bistro at Shady Acres. We were having coffee.”

  “That couldn’t have been just the other day, because I’ve been here for two weeks, and she hasn’t been out of my sight since I arrived.”

  “Then it was right before that. I put the date on my phone.” She brandished her phone at Donna. “What can I say? I’m ancient, and these days everything is just the other day for me. Thank goodness for my calendar alerts, or I’d always be a day late and a dollar short.” She patted my shoulder. “It seems like yesterday that my dear granddaughter was born, and here she is, thirty-three.”

  I smirked. “Thirty-two, but who’s counting?”

  “The thing is, today is the day.” Ruby glanced at her cell phone. “It’s Monday, twelve thirty-three, so I’m three minutes late. If she’s already had lunch, we can just visit.” She turned towards the yard and spread her arms to encompass the mess. “This is sure a surprise. Nina never mentioned anything about all this. Her garden was her pride and joy. Did some kind of deadly disease invade the yard?”

  While she nattered on, I tried to see if Nina was in view, maybe sitting in a chair, but Donna’s bulky frame blocked the line of sight.

  Ruby continued. “Let’s go wake up my lazy gal-pal.” She placed a pointy toe on the threshold.

  Donna didn’t budge. “Wow. You Californians are sure a pushy bunch, aren’t you? As I said, my aunt is sleeping, so—no lunch for you.”

  “Tell you what, hon,” said Ruby. “Be a sweetheart and let Nina know I’ll be back later.”

  I warmed up the iron skillet, then placed two buttered Swiss and cheddar cheese sandwiches on the hot surface. While I grilled, Ruby used the bathroom, gave snacks to the furry kids, cleared off the kitchen table, and then sat gazing out the window until I set lunch on the table. “You want chips?”

  “No, this is plenty.”

  After a couple bites, I put down my sandwich. “So? You gonna say anything?”

  “Two words. No. Make that three words.” She pointed at her sandwich. “Delicious. Elder abuse.”

  “I think so, too. That’s why I called Adult Protective Services a couple of days ago and made a report. Who knows what will come of it, though.”

  She sipped her sparkling water. “Elder abuse is more common than you’d think.” Another sip, and she set down her glass on the placemat. “Listen. I could be totally off-base about this Donna person, but given everything you’ve told me and what I saw… Something is definitely not right over there. I don’t know what we can do, but ignoring it is not an option.”

  When it was dark outside, I went over to Nina’s with a stepstool and plucked several of the heirloom rose bushes out of the dumpster. I’m going to plant them in pots and save them for her. If I’m lucky, maybe I saved her mother’s roses.

  If it turns out she doesn’t want them when she moves to Shady Acres, then I’ll have to learn how not to kill roses. I wonder if there is an app for that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tuesday • June 16

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  My “missing cat” post on Facebook has been shared twenty-seven times. So far, no one has found him. I’ve also been checking the pound online twice a day for any new cats brought in. I feel responsible for Mr. Snickers’ disappearance.

  Late afternoon

  * * *

  I stretched out on the patio chaise lounge to read more of The Kupcake Kaper on my tablet. I skimmed through the little I’d read and got to:

  Suddenly, Patsy’s usually perpetually perky, happy-go-lucky smile drooped, and she burst into uncontrollable tears.

  “What’s wrong?” questioned Larry, looking very distraught.

  “My dear grandmother always dreamed of owning a bakery. Remember, I told you it was her who taught me how to bake?”

  “I remember. She taught you to bake to make you happy after your father and baby sister died so tragically when you were a little girl,” said Larry.

  “Yes. It was front page news, remember?” said Patsy. “It was even on the network news. They blamed my father.”

  * * *

  Nina had told me the tragic story about the plane crash that killed her sister’s husband and child. Curious to learn more, I dug around online for old Ketchikan news stories.

  In the search box, I typed tragic death of father and child in the 1960s in Ketchikan, Alaska.

  First up: Alaska Shipwrecks. 1750 to 1850.

  Then a memorial page for the 1964 Alaska earthquake.

  I’m more efficient with a keyboard, so I went in the house to get my laptop. I wound up in the living room where I could watch HGTV while searching for information. My research assistant, Daisy, jumped on the couch and got comfy next to me.

  “Okay, Daisy. Let’s try Bob Baxter death in Ketchikan, Alaska. No, probably would be Robert Baxter.”

  We Found Baxter | View Public Records Online.

  Ketchikan Records Free Search | Enter a Name & Search For Free: Find Out Everything You Want to Know About Anyone for FREE!

  * * *

  ‎ I scrolled beyond the ads and did something I rarely do. I clicked on the next Google page. Halfway down, I found this:

  September 14, 2004. A man was found dead when his partially submerged car was discovered in the George Inlet by a passing bicyclist on the S. Tongas Highway. Gary Morgan, 54…

  “Wasn’t he Donna’s husband?”

  … drowned when his Ford Explorer went off the road and landed in the water sometime in the early morning hours. Emergency services were called, and Morgan was pronounced deceased at the scene of the accident.

  Officers say the death is not being treated as suspicious. Morgan’s wife, Donna Baxter Morgan, was devastated by the news, saying, “He was a good man and a devoted husband.”

  “Uh, no. You said he was a bastard.”

  Donna Morgan was at the epicenter of another heartbreaking tragedy when she was a child. In 1971, several passengers from the cruise ship Pacific S.S. Princess Beatrice were killed when the Ketchikan-based sightseeing plane they were aboard crashed into the George Inlet waters.

  The airboat, built by Admiral Skyways in 1936, and originally used for commercial transport, held 22 passengers. Among the dead were Donna’s father and pilot of the plane, Robert Baxter, 38, and his four-year-old daughter, Trudy. Donna Baxter, 10, and four other passengers were the only survivors of the crash. After a thorough investigation, they ruled the cause of the crash pilot error.

  I read the story three times, trying to absorb the enormity of the tragedies. Donna is lugging around a heavy load of baggage. Not only did she lose her father and sister—her dad was blamed for the crash. I’m sure she had to deal with a lot of hostility from community members and cruel ridicule from classmates.

  Her husband betrayed her several times and then drove off the road and died, although I doubt she was very broken up about that. After all of that, she nursed her ailing mother until she passed from emphysema.

  Maybe I need to cut her some slack. Maybe all she is trying to do is take care of Nina. And perhaps she’s simply overly cautious.

  Last thought

  * * *

  I updated my Donna-Nina timeline, then had a long thinking session about everything that has happened since Donna had arrived. I decided I can’t allow myself to be swayed by her sad history. I may be dead wrong about Nina’s welfare, but until I see my friend and feel assured she is all right, I can’t
turn a blind eye to what’s happening over there.

  Tomorrow, it’s time for Sam’s spy mission to Nina’s.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wednesday • June 17

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Samantha and I stood at the edge of Nina’s property peeking around the bushes at the demo team scurrying like busy bees.

  “You told me what’s going on, but seeing is believing,” said Sam. “Her yard was the yard of my dreams. Why would anyone do this? It’s so strange.”

  “Speaking of strange—”

  I spun around to Randy and Earl lurking behind us. “Holy crap. You scared the-you-know-what out of me.”

  “Me, too,” said Sam, patting her chest. “I’m lucky I didn’t pee my pants.”

  “Sorry,” said Randy. “Didn’t mean to scare you. We’re wondering if you’ve noticed the homeless-looking dude staying at the Miller’s house?”

  The Millers were the family who’d lived in the house between Nina’s and mine. They moved out while I was in England with Ruby.

  “No.” I scanned the yard and realized the “For Sale” sign was gone. “Maybe he bought the house.” I set my hands on Sam’s shoulders. “You ready?”

  “Ready for what?” asked Earl.

  “I’ll tell you later.” I adjusted Sam’s hospital ID hanging around her neck. She was wearing navy blue scrubs, and her stethoscope and medical bag made her appear hospital-official. “Ready?”