While She Slumbered: The Murder Blog Mysteries #5

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I heard about your little escapade the other day.”

  I widened my eyes. “Huh?”

  “Don’t act innocent. I saw the dog door derrière photo. Boy, did that give me a much needed laugh.” Her warm brown eyes narrowed, drilling into mine. “You do realize they could have arrested you for that stunt, right?”

  “I know, but I was really concerned about her, Angela.”

  “And now?”

  “I had decided to quit worrying and leave it to social services. But after seeing the pawned jewelry—and the fact that Donna is getting rid of Nina’s clothes.” I shook my head. “I’m back to fretting.”

  She frowned. “How do you know about the clothes?”

  “I saw Donna putting cardboard boxes in the car.”

  “So you were spying on her? Katy, she can get a restraining order. Do you want that on your record?”

  “Angela, I wasn’t spying. I was walking the dog. Minding my own business. I swear. I can’t help what I see.”

  She shook her head. “I suppose not. However, we can’t do anything unless a crime has been committed. We could get sued. As it is, the department has three in the works as we speak. One more, and I might lose my job.” She sighed heavily. “I just want to make it to retirement. Five more years and I collect my pension and then my husband and I go on a very long fly-fishing trip.”

  I hung my head staring at my hands in my lap. “You’re basically saying that until something bad happens, there’s nothing we can do to prevent it from happening.”

  “This is when I dislike my job. There are a lot of doors in this town that I would dearly love to kick in. But I can’t.” She reached for my hands and clasped them firmly. “Tell you what. I’ll call Adult Protective Services right now and see if anyone followed up on your report.” Angela sat at her desk and made the call. After a couple minutes, she hung up and returned to the couch. “I’m sure you got the gist of the conversation.”

  I nodded. “Doesn’t sound like they’re concerned.”

  “They did a home visit a couple days after your call. The woman said she would send me a copy of the report. She said they saw no signs of neglect—such as malnutrition or personal hygiene. Nor physical injury or signs of constraint or assault. They advised the niece to make sure that during the remodel, Mrs. Lowen was able to safely navigate the house.”

  “Did they talk to Nina?”

  “I would assume so,” she said. “The bottom line is, they saw no reason to remove Mrs. Lowen from the home.”

  I shook my head. “I know I’m right about this. I can feel it in my bones. But I guess that’s that.”

  Angela nodded, looking serious. “It is, Katy.

  I parked in my driveway and was gathering my things when Randy ran over. “You missed the fireworks!”

  “It’s a little early for fireworks.”

  “Not that kind of fireworks, Katy. It was Donna. She went totally ape-shit.” His eyes widened. “Sorry about the language.”

  “I’m not offended by anything nasty you say about her. Tell me what happened.”

  We strolled towards Nina’s as Randy told his story. “We were in the back yard when Donna started screaming, so we ran out thinking someone needed help. She was throwing dirt clods at the workers and calling them losers who don’t have a clue what they’re doing. The foreman dude said he was going to sue her for breach of contract. Then she said, ‘Not before I sue you first.’” We stopped on the sidewalk in front of the house.

  “Darn it! I would’ve loved to have seen that,” I said.

  “Yeah. It was intense. Then the guys packed up their gear and the porta-potty, and left.”

  “I see the old toilet is still in the yard,” I said. “Good thing the house has two bathrooms.”

  Donna came out on the porch and yelled, “What’re you two gawking at?”

  I grinned and waved. “Just admiring the yard décor. I’ve always been a fan of recycling old toilets into garden art. Have a nice day, Donna!”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Thursday • July 2

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Josh called late last night.

  The thing that I feared might happen has happened. Nicole proposed to Josh.

  He told me she’s not responding as well as hoped to treatment, so she has decided to stop the chemo and enjoy life. How could he say no?

  Josh will give her the happy ending she deserves. He’s buying an RV, and they plan to visit National Parks across the country. It’ll be their home on wheels. They’re even getting a little dog to share the adventure with them. A happy family.

  I think there’s a good chance that Nicole will beat this. Happiness can be potent medicine.

  But for me? It’s officially time to move on. And I will. Just not today.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Friday • July 3

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  “Katy!” yelled Sam. “We know you’re in there.”

  “Get your butt out of bed and open this damned door,” shouted Ruby. “Do you hear me, missy? You’re upsetting your mother.”

  “Please, Katy?” said Mom. “We love you. Things will get better, I promise.”

  “Geez, Louise. This feels like déjà vu,” said Ruby. “Seems like it was only last week that we were standing in this very spot banging on the door and begging her to let us in.”

  “I don’t remember that,” said Sam.

  “It was Marybeth and me. Katy had just found out that Chad-the-Cad was getting remarried.”

  Their conversation was recording on my doorbell camera. While they pounded on the front door, I was in the back yard cleaning my shed office. When I finally got weary of Daisy’s barking, I checked the app on my phone and heard my loved ones disturbing the peace on the porch.

  As I approached the front entry, I clicked the phone’s microphone icon and wailed, “I’m never getting out of bed again!” Then opened the door and hollered, “And you can’t make me!”

  The three of them froze, gawking at me.

  “You’re dressed,” said Sam. “You have makeup on.”

  “You’re having a good hair day,” grumbled Ruby.

  “My baby,” cried my teary-eyed mother, flinging her arms around me. “I hate Josh. He hurt my baby.”

  “Don’t hate him for doing the right thing.” I gently disengaged from her viselike grip. “There’s coffee in the kitchen and homemade cookies on the counter.”

  Ruby led the way into the kitchen. “Who brought you the cookies?”

  “No one. I made them.” I fluttered my hands. “With my own two little hands. I also baked bread and lemon bars.” I set the plate of bars next to the cookies. “Grab a few, and let’s sit on the patio. It’s such a lovely day outside.”

  I caught Ruby arching a skeptical eyebrow at Mom.

  “No, Grandma. I’m not unhinged. I had my cry, and it was long and bitter.” I patted my dog’s head. “Poor Daisy really had her work cut out, taking care of her hysterical momma. After that, I had a craving for goodies, so I started baking. Cleaning, too. Been wearing my FitTrim, and you’d be shocked how many steps you rack up in a day of serious house cleaning. I even rearranged a few things in the living room. Go look, Mom. Grandma.”

  “I take it that’s our cue to give you a moment with Sam,” said Mom, as she guided Ruby out of the kitchen.

  Sam took my hand and inspected my chewed-up nails. “Are you sure you’re okay? They wanted to come over yesterday, and I told them you needed to be alone.”

  “Good call. Thank you.”

  She pulled me close, patting my back like a momma. “It’ll be okay.”

  “I know. It’s not like I didn’t see this coming.” I shrugged, swiping away a fresh drizzle of tears.

  “True. But it still hurts.”

  “It hurts like hell. Some good has come from it, too.” I cleared the lump in my throat. “I now know what I
’m looking for in a man. Josh ticked off all the right boxes, and then some. However, the next one must be a totally unencumbered man.”

  “At our age, everyone is encumbered. Would you consider someone who has a kid?”

  “Yes. Definitely.” I thought about that a moment, and cracked a smile. “But only if he’s a widower.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Monday • July 6

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  My folks invited me over for a BBQ on the fourth, but I wasn’t up to it. While channel surfing, I discovered an all-day Twilight Zone marathon on the SYFY channel. I spent a therapeutic lazy day on the couch, noshing on snack food and residing in the “zone.”

  This afternoon

  * * *

  I ventured outside my bubble to see what’s going on in the world. As I passed by the next-door neighbor’s house, a hummingbird hovered inches from my face for a few magical seconds. Barely breathing, I felt a breeze from his beating wings while he decided if my orange shirt was a flower. He spun away and slammed into a solar panel in the lawn.

  Heartbroken, I cradled the bird’s tiny limp body in my hands and marched to the front door. I pressed the doorbell-video camera. No answer. I punched the bell again. And again.

  “What?” shouted a cranky, tinny, masculine voice from the doorbell.

  I leaned towards it, knowing he’d get a fisheye view of me. “I’m your next-door neighbor. Katy McKenna.”

  “Hello, Katy McKenna. I’m your next-door neighbor, Simon Prichard. What do you want?”

  I held out my open palm so he could see the hummingbird.

  “Why are you showing me a dead bird?”

  “Because you killed him with your damned solar panels.”

  “Well, excuse me for trying to save the planet. Do you have any idea how many birds collide with power lines and die every year? Twenty-five million. Twenty-two million die from crashing into house windows. Do you have any windows, Katy McKinnie?”

  I gritted my teeth. “It’s McKenna. And, of course, I have windows.”

  “Then you’re a bird killer. Buh-bye.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tuesday • July 7

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Last night

  * * *

  Stayed up late, reading Donna’s book. Not because I love it. Far from it. They say writers write what they know. So, you never know what I might learn.

  * * *

  Patsy opened a new bottle of berry-flavored sleep aid and poured the contents into a crystal syrup pitcher. Then she added liquid melatonin and topped it off with blueberry syrup. She stirred the concoction.

  “Ooo. Something sure smells good,” called Larry from his leather recliner in the living room.

  “Blueberry buttermilk waffles. I picked the berries this morning,” said Patsy as she dipped a spoon into the pitcher and stirred the concoction. “And I made your favorite homemade blueberry syrup.”

  “You’re killing me. But, sorry, no can do,” he said.

  “Tummy still on the fritz?”

  “Actually, I feel much better.” Larry walked into the kitchen and snapped his waistband. “Even lost a few pounds.”

  “I’ll take a pass on your diet methods.”

  Larry glanced at the waffle makings on the counter. “Two kinds?”

  “I know that blueberry is your favorite. But you know me, I’m old-school and stick with buttermilk and maple syrup. Never been a big berry fan.”

  “I do love blueberries.” He poured a glass of milk and sat at the kitchen table. “Anyway, I think I’m up to going to Anchorage for the Rotary meeting, after all.”

  Patsy frowned. “Oh, honey. Are you sure? It’s nearly a five-hour flight. Do you really want to risk being sick on the plane?”

  He nodded. “This meeting is very important, and to tell you the truth, my stomach is so empty that I don’t see how I could possibly get sick again at this point.”

  Patsy forked a hot buttermilk waffle from the waffle iron onto a plate. “You know what? On second thought, I think I’ll have a blueberry one, too,” she said very slyly.

  She poured the batter into the waffle maker and very gently set the top down. Then she sat at the table, spread a few tablespoons of butter on her waffle, and drowned it with Log Cabin syrup.

  Larry grimaced. “I don’t get how you like that syrup better than your own homemade blueberry syrup. It’s not even real maple.”

  “Takes me back to my childhood.” Patsy set down the syrup bottle and shoveled a big bite of dripping waffle into her mouth. She rolled her eyes. “Mmmm.” She dabbed her sticky chin, and then leaned back in her chair with a long, satisfied sigh. “So good. Too bad you can’t have any. Maybe on my blueberry waffle, I’ll have the blueberry syrup. I will enjoy it in honor of you.” She hopped up from her seat and went to the steaming waffle iron. “Done and all mine.”

  Patsy set the blueberry waffle on a plate and set the plate in the center of the table, and liberally buttered it. “This is that fancy French butter you love.” Then she drenched it with the blueberry syrup. “I’ll let it get a little mushy while I finish my first waffle.” She suppressed a little giggle as she watched her husband staring longingly at the heavenly smelling blueberry syruped blueberry waffle. He dipped a finger into the syrup and licked his finger.

  “Mmm. So good.” He crinkled his brow. “The syrup tastes a little different. Even better than usual. What did you do? Add more sugar?”

  “It’s the blueberries. I think they’re sweeter and juicier this year from that very hot heatwave we had.”

  Larry took another taste. “Yeah, that must be it.”

  “You sure you don’t want a few bites? I don’t want you getting faint from lack of food.”

  “I don’t want to take your waffle away from you,” he said.

  “No worries. I’m feeling full, anyway. There’s plenty more batter if I want one.”

  “Well, okay.” He dragged the plate over. “A few bites can’t hurt.”

  * * *

  “Larry. Don’t eat it! It’s drugged!” I shouted at my Kindle. He ignored me and ate the waffle. What a dope!

  * * *

  “Whoa. I’m so stuffed I might explode. I didn’t intend to eat three waffles,” said Larry, patting his belly. He glanced at his watch. “Yikes. I gotta get going, or I’ll miss my flight!”

  Patsy smiled sweetly. “Need any help packing?”

  “Nope. All done.” He belched, then stood and pecked her on the cheek. “Have fun while I’m gone.”

  “Oh, I plan to.” She reached up and pulled his lips to hers. “Drive carefully to the airport. It’s raining cats and dogs out there. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

  He chuckled. “No worries. I could drive that road—” he paused for a long yawn, “blind-folded.”

  * * *

  I stopped reading, distracted by thoughts of Nina and the cold medicine on her night stand. That stuff really knocks me out, so I never take it during the day, unless I’m really miserable and just want to sleep.

  Could that be what’s going on with Nina? She feels lousy and wants to sleep through the days? Donna was really getting on her nerves, so that could be another reason to want to escape into dreamland. Or, am I grasping at straws here to justify staying out of it?

  Today

  Late afternoon

  * * *

  I sat on the couch with my laptop to reread the story about Donna’s husband’s car crash. That story had included an account of her father and sister’s tragic deaths. After a few sips of coffee, I set it on the side table and opened the computer.

  The first time I read about the plane crash, I felt so sorry for Donna. She had been just a kid when she lost her father and little sister in the plane crash in Ketchikan.

  I still feel sorry for her; however, reading Donna’s book has got me wondering about her husband’s death. “Not a good idea to drink and drive,” is what she said to me. If drunk d
riving caused the accident, you’d think the newspaper story would have said so.

  From everything Donna and Nina said about him, the guy was a rat. He even gambled away their retirement. Thank goodness she got the house, the bakery business, and his life insurance.

  I was curious about what Donna’s house looks like, so I googled Donna Baxter in Ketchikan, Alaska white pages. I got a big surprise. Her current address is in Lahaina, Maui, Hawaii. It listed Ketchikan as a previous location!

  My hands were shaking as I typed in the Maui address. I found it on that popular real estate site—twillow.com.

  Currently off-market. Kaanapali condo home that contains 1,545 sq. ft. and was built in 1972. 3 bedrooms, 2.5 bathrooms. The estimate for this house is $1,259,000, which has decreased by $52,078 in the last thirty days.

  It was pushing five-thirty, time to trade in my coffee for a glass of wine. Next, I did a Google Earth drive-by. I couldn’t see the condo, but the complex was lush with mature landscaping and close to the water. I leaned back, pondering this crazy development. “I need to talk to someone.” My puppy nuzzled my leg, gazing soulfully at me, ready to listen to whatever I had to say, but I FaceTimed Sam instead, and Daisy eavesdropped.

  When she answered, I said, “I know you’re probably busy getting the kids fed, but I have to talk to you now. If I have to wait until Casey is tucked in, I will burst a blood vessel.”

  “Hold on. CHELSEA! I have an urgent call from Katy. Please come dish up dinner for you and your brother. I’ll eat later.”

  I heard Chelsea yell, “Coming!”