Chapter Thirty-Three
Saturday • July 11
Posted by Katy McKenna
This morning
* * *
I created a phony missing dog flyer and printed out a few to hang around the neighborhood. I doubt Donna does much walking even when she doesn’t have a sore ankle, but if she does take a stroll she will see them on the lamp posts in our vicinity. I also posted in the Facebook “Lost Pets of Santa Lucia” group.
I warned Ruby not to walk the dog until I remove the Facebook post—which will happen right after I show it to Donna. Ruby’s dog groomer friend, Celeste, is coming over to give BeeGee a stylish haircut today. It’s unlikely that anyone seeing BeeGee would have a clue who she belonged to, but a short, new “do” will give Ruby peace of mind. Me, too.
I rang Donna’s doorbell, hollering, “Hey, Donna! I have those flyers I said I’d make. I want your approval before I put them up around the neighborhood.”
She opened the door, looking worse than yesterday. She was still in the flannel nightgown, which concerned me because I’m the reason she injured her ankle.
I glanced at her foot. “You better sit down. That ankle is still pretty swollen. Then I’ll show you the flyer and the Facebook post I did.”
After she was settled, I handed her a flyer.
“Wow, that’s nice. Look how cute Baby Girl looks.” Her chin trembled and she sniffed. “Oh, God. I hope she’s all right.”
“I bet someone nice has found her and is taking good care of her. Did you call the SPCA and report her missing?” She nodded. “Then I’m sure you’ll have her back soon.” I drew my phone from my pocket. “I posted a picture of her in a local lost pets group on Facebook.” I scrolled for a moment. “Here it is.”
Donna stared at the post with tears welling in her eyes. “There are several comments already.” She read one aloud, sounding choked up. “Did the dog have a tag on? Microchipped?” She gazed at me. “I appreciate you doing this. Thank you.” She pointed at a cardboard box on the floor. “There’s a framed photo of Mr. Snickers in there. Would you take it and make a flyer for him, too?”
“Sure thing. I’m worried about you. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the ER?”
She appeared to consider it, then shook her head. “No, it’ll be fine in a few days. The black and blue bruises make it look worse than it is.”
“Then I’m going to go. I’ll make a flyer for the cat and put them both up around the area.”
“You’ll post it on Facebook, too?”
“Sure will.” I started towards the hallway. “I want to pop into Nina’s room and say hi, real quick.”
“She’s sleeping. She had a rough night, and I don’t want her to wake until she’s fully rested.”
I was halfway down the hall. “I’ll just take a little peek in case she needs something, so you don’t have to get up.”
“No. Don’t!”
Nina was snoring like a hibernating grizzly. I tiptoed around her bed to the stuck window to see if I could hoist it up. I thought that being inside at a higher level than outside might give me the leverage to do it. Sure enough, my third tug loosened it. I left it halfway up and drew the drapes together. I don’t know that I’m ever going to sneak in the house that way, but at least I have the option, if needed. With hope, Donna won’t notice. The bedroom was stinky, so, if she confronts me about it, I can always say I opened it to air out the room.
On my way to the front door, I said to Donna, “Nina is sleeping like a log. Maybe you can get some rest, too.” I started to leave, then stopped. “Donna? Don’t you think you’d feel better if you got out of that nightgown? Whenever I feel lousy, I’m always amazed what a quick shower and fresh clothes does for me.”
“It’s not the ankle that’s got me down. It’s my dog. I was mean to her right before she ran off. It’s my fault she’s gone.”
Partly your fault. Mainly mine.
“But you’re right. A shower would do me good. I probably stink.” She lifted an arm and took a whiff. “Yup.”
I started reading the next book in Donna’s series—The Ketchikan Kulinary Mysteries. Patsy got away with murdering her husband in the first one. I’m curious to see what she’s up to now.
In the second book, she has hired a senior woman to run the bakery counter and a hot, young mysterious guy named Brandon to do deliveries. Business is booming, and she’s got her eye on the delivery boy’s bulging biceps.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sunday • July 12
Part One
Posted by Katy McKenna
While rinsing dishes at the kitchen sink this morning, I noticed through the window, a squad car slowing in front of my house. The driver’s side window was down and I recognized her as the same officer who’d warned me about trespassing at Nina’s house.
She decelerated to a crawl, flicking a glance at my house but not stopping. Relieved she wasn’t after me, I set the last dirty plate in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then I got curious and walked over to peek through the bushes lining the border between Prichard’s and Nina’s properties.
Simon strode across the yard. “Spying on the neighbors again?”
“Yes, and I’m trespassing on your property, too.” I gave his mud-stained jeans a once-over. “Doing some yard work?”
“You’re very astute.” He pointed at a rototiller sitting near the porch. “I’m going to plant vegetables after I turn over the soil.”
“Out here? In the front yard? What about the solar panels?”
“They’re only on one side of the yard. I can plant on this side, plus the dirt under the panels can be planted, too. I’ve already got corn, beans, potatoes, carrots, and onions growing in the back.”
“What are you planning to do—open a neighborhood farm stand?”
“I’m putting my land to good use. I see no reason to be watering useless ornamental grass when I can grow food.” He peered through the leafy evergreen shrubbery. “What’re the police doing over there?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. I hope nothing bad has happened.”
“If that were the case, there’d be an ambulance and a fire truck here, too.”
Randy and Earl joined us. “Is everything okay?” asked Earl.
Randy poked his arm. “If everything were okay, the cops wouldn’t be there, bro.”
“Why don’t we stand out front on the sidewalk?” I said. “Maybe we’ll hear something.”
“You mean loiter like a bunch of nosey neighbors,” said Simon.
“I mean loiter like concerned neighbors.”
We shuffled to the sidewalk just as Donna stepped onto the porch, leaning on a cane. “Thank you, officers, for coming so quickly. My auntie is missing and I’m very worried.”
Stunned, I glanced at my neighbors to see their reaction. Simon whispered, “This is an unexpected development. Where would she have gone?”
“And how?” said Randy.
“And why?” said Earl.
“Maybe because she’d had enough of her niece,” said Simon.
I said, “I managed to get a quick peek of her yesterday. She was dead to the world.”
Earl drew in a sharp breath. “She was dead?”
Randy bonked him on the head. “It’s an expression, dude.”
“I meant she was sleeping. Snoring. It’s hard to believe she got up and left.”
The four of us edged our way into the yard to better hear the conversation.
Donna glanced at us and continued talking to the cops. “I went into her room to give her breakfast and the bed was empty. Her window was open. I can’t imagine her climbing out, though. But what else can I think?”
Not realizing it, I grabbed Simon’s forearm.
“Ow. You got a mean grip, lady,” he said.
I released my claw. “Sorry.” Oh, my God. I opened the window. Did she climb out? No, she was too feeble. I can’t imagine her doing that—ever. I can’t imagine me
doing it, either.
“She most likely walked out the front door,” said the brunette officer. “When did you last see your aunt?”
“I guess it was around eight o’clock last night. I helped her to the bathroom and then tucked her in.”
“You guess?” she said. “Did you or did you not see her last night?”
“Yes, of course, I did. I’m just not sure of the exact time. I don’t check my watch every time I do something. Do you?”
The stony-faced officer ignored Donna’s sarcasm. “Have you searched the entire house and yard?”
“The house, yes. The yard, no.” Donna joggled her cane. “I had a little accident. Go in and search for yourselves.”
The officer turned to her partner. “Check the yard, then meet me inside.”
The young, brawny cop asked us to step back onto the sidewalk while he searched the bushes. By now, several neighbors had joined us.
“What do you think happened, Katy?” whispered Earl.
“I don’t know. People don’t just disappear from their home. Especially an elderly person.”
“It happens more often than you’d think,” said Simon. “My grandfather went for a stroll in the garden and vanished. He was found dead in a vacant lot several days later.”
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry,” I said.
“He had Alzheimer’s and didn’t know who any of us were anymore. However, he could still name every plant in the yard with its common and Latin name. After he died, I dropped out of college to work on a GPS tracking system app for people like him. There was nothing on the market that would track further than five hundred feet, and those were sketchy at best.”
“I’m impressed,” I said.
“I couldn’t save my grandpa, but the device has helped many people.”
“What’s your company called?”
“Wandering Angels. However, it’s not my company anymore. I sold it a couple years ago.”
The front door was wide open, and we heard Donna shout, “Stop questioning me like I’m guilty. You have to find her before something terrible happens to the poor thing. She’s demented—”
“She is not demented,” I whispered to my neighbors.
“—and has heart trouble—”
I shook my head. “She has never mentioned heart problems to me.”
“—and a history of strokes. For God’s sake, she could be out there somewhere having another stroke this very minute while you two are wasting time grilling me. Me! An innocent disabled senior citizen.”
Randy scrunched his face. “Disabled? Since when?”
“She twisted her ankle,” I said.
The cops came out of the house and motioned us into the yard. The attractive brunette glanced at me and nodded, then said, “I’m Officer Rodriguez and this is my partner, Officer Dawson.”
“Did anyone see or hear anything suspicious during the night?” asked Dawson, staring at me as if he’d read my mind. “Shouting? Cries for help?”
Everyone shook their heads, murmuring, “No.”
Earl said, “Violet—she’s our dog—started barking around two in the morning. Maybe she heard something.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Daisy was barking, too. It made me nervous, so I got up and checked the doors. By then, she’d settled down, so I didn’t worry about it.”
“Your dogs may have been barking at my son, Ethan,” said a striking, curvy blond standing on the fringe of the group. She glared at the cute pimply, gawky boy standing beside her, “…who came home hours past his curfew.”
“Mommm,” he whined. “I told you Jack’s car broke down.”
Mom waved her phone at him. “See this thing? It’s called a phone. All you had to do last night was take your phone out of your pocket and answer one of my umpteen calls.”
“Mom. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Well, too bad.” Then she said to the rest of us, who were probably all experiencing painful flashbacks to our teen years, “I’m sorry if my grounded-for-life son woke up the neighborhood. I assure you it won’t be happening again.”
Dawson said, “Ethan, did you notice anything suspicious when you got home?”
The kid jammed his hands into his pockets. “Like what?”
“People out walking. That would be unusual that late at night.”
“You mean morning, right?” said Mom.
The officer nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m giving everyone our business cards. If you think of anything, call us. Even if it seems trivial, we want to hear it. We need to get this lady home.”
Officer Rodriguez said, “Does anyone happen to have a recent photo of Nina Lowen? It seems everything in the house has been packed up and put in storage.”
I raised my hand. “I do.”
I posted the photo that I gave to the police on Facebook. Afterwards, I packed a water bottle and a plastic dish in my backpack, leashed my dog, and set out to search the neighborhood for Nina.
Daisy sensed that our walk had a purpose and trotted beside me, looking vigilant.
“We have to find our friend,” I said. “Mr. Snicker’s mama.”
As if on cue, Daisy put her nose to the ground and began following its lead.
Then an idea hit me.
“A shirt. Or a scarf. You know, something that hasn’t been washed since Nina wore it.”
Donna frowned. “You want something with Aunt Nina’s scent on it because you think Daisy is a bloodhound?”
Daisy’s tail wagged when she heard her name.
“She may not be a bloodhound, but she knows Nina and has a very sensitive nose. I thought if she got a whiff of Nina, she might pick up her scent while we’re walking and, you know, start wagging her tail or something.” I shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
Donna sighed. “You’re right. Hold on.”
She closed the front door. My “bloodhound” yawned and sat down to give her crotch some unladylike attention.
The door opened again. “How about this?” She dangled a red blouse. “It was at the bottom of her hamper. I’m behind on the laundry, so it’s been in there for a while.”
I took the wrinkled shirt and resisted giving it a sniff test. “This is great. Thank you.”
“I wish I could go with you, but I’m stuck here with this bum ankle.” Donna tapped her metal cane on the floor. “Between losing the cat, my precious dog, and now Aunt Nina, it’s all too much.” She sniffed and clamped her hand over her mouth.
I shook off a pang of guilt about her dog. “I have a nice photo of Nina that I took recently. We were sitting on my porch swing having coffee. I gave it to the police and posted it in several local Facebook groups, so maybe someone will see her.”
“That was a good idea. Thank you.” She snickered bitterly. “We have the missing cat, Baby Girl, and now Aunt Nina on Facebook. People are going to wonder.”
“Don’t worry. They’re in different groups, so it’s doubtful anyone will notice.”
Plus, the fact that the only real post on Facebook is about Nina, I thought. “By the way—where did you get the cane? I didn’t think you went to the doctor’s.”
“I found it in the hall closet. Lucky find for me.”
“Yes, it sure was. How does your ankle feel?”
“It’s improving each day,” she said.
“I should get going. With any luck, Nina will be back by dinnertime.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.” She swiped an invisible tear and shut the door.
“Okay, Daisy. Take a big whiff.” I jammed the shirt against her nose. She grabbed it with her teeth and yanked it with a playful growl. “No. We’re not playing tug-of-war. Let go!”
We checked empty lots, skulked around vacant houses, showed Nina’s photo to everyone we saw, and came up with zilch. According to my FitTrim, we had walked over four miles when I finally gave up.
“My stomach’s growling. Let’s go home, Daisy, and have a snack. Then we can drive around and look for Nina
.”
Daisy cocked her head at the word “snack,” gave me a woof of approval, and dragged me home.
We spent the next several hours cruising through nearby neighborhoods. Whenever I saw someone, I’d pull over, show them a letter-sized photo of Nina that I’d printed, and ask if they’d seen her. A few people acted like I was a crackpot and ignored me. Then Daisy would stick her head out the back window, and I would get instant approval.
At six-twenty, Ruby called. She’d watched a story on the local news about Nina’s disappearance.
By eight-thirty, it was getting dark, and I was down to fumes in my gas tank. After a fill-up, I headed home feeling like a failure. I rummaged in the fridge for something tantalizing to cheer me up. Nothing in there was going to cheer me up, so I settled for cheese puffs and a glass of wine.
I dragged the comforter off my bed and got cozy on the couch to watch the local news that I have set to record every evening at six. I wanted to see the story about Nina that Ruby had told me about, so I fast-forwarded to it. When I saw her name on the screen, I paused, staring at it for a long minute, my thoughts wandering.
Suddenly, I felt compelled to go over to Nina’s. Who knows? Maybe she was home by now and I could stop fretting. I stood for a few minutes in the dark staring at the well-lit house, then picked my way through the yard to the living room window and took a peek. I’m becoming an expert peeping snooper.
Donna was sitting on the green sofa chowing down on delivery pizza. She picked up the TV remote and paused the show she was watching—an old Big Bang Theory episode. Then she glanced over her shoulder towards the hallway and hollered, “Hey! You’re missing the show!”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sunday • July 12
Part Two
Posted by Katy McKenna
While She Slumbered: The Murder Blog Mysteries #5 Page 16