“Let’s just say that Ramona is not one of my favorite people and leave it like that.” And Joyce rose, indicating that it was time for Bernie and Libby to go.
“So what did you think?” Libby asked Bernie once they were outside. “Do you believe Joyce?”
“About Ramona? About the story she told us?”
“Both.”
Bernie thought for a moment. “Well, I certainly believe what she said about Annabel and Richard not liking Trudy. That squares with everything we know. And I believe what she said about Annabel being a bitch. I don’t think there’s any argument on that score.”
“Well,” Libby said, “she was certainly anxious to steer us in Ramona’s direction.”
“Those two must have quite a history,” Bernie observed as she reached into her bag to get her keys.
“I would say,” Libby agreed.
Bernie put the key in the ignition. The van started with a loud grinding noise that seemed to be coming from the rear. She tried it again. Definitely the rear. Then the noise stopped.
“Joyce seems really nice,” Libby observed.
“One never can tell,” Bernie said as she pulled out onto the road. “Just because someone knits doesn’t make her a good person.”
“Have you ever heard of anyone knitting who was a bad person?”
Bernie smiled. “Madame Defarge in A Tale of Two Cities. I believe she was knitting the names of the people about to be beheaded into the scarf she was making.”
Libby sighed. She’d never been able to get into Dickens.
The van was three-quarters of the way down the block when Libby happened to glance around.
“Now that’s interesting,” she said.
“What?” Bernie asked.
“I think I just saw Joyce getting into Richard’s car and both of them driving away. She must have called him right after we left.”
“Or, more likely, before she answered the door,” Bernie said, doing the math in her head. “Are you sure it was Richard’s car?”
“It was the same one parked out front when we went to Annabel’s house the first time.”
“Well, he certainly didn’t waste any time getting here,” Bernie observed.
“I wonder what they have to talk about,” Libby mused.
“Somehow,” Bernie said, “I don’t think they’re reminiscing about dear old departed Annabel.”
Chapter 19
Sean hung up the phone and thought about what Clyde had told him. It was highly speculative, but still worth pursuing. In cases like this, one had to follow every tiny lead wherever it took one because you never knew. Things that seemed ridiculous to him were things that could drive other people to a homicidal rage. And had. He should know. He’d seen someone get stabbed over a penny debt once.
He’d tell Bernie and Libby what Clyde had told him when they got home and see what they wanted to do with it. It would probably amount to nothing, but there it was. Of course, in the old days he would have jumped in his car and gone off to find out. But this wasn’t the old days. This wasn’t even close. Not even remotely. Who would have thought he would end up like this?
Sean sighed. Okay. He was being negative and he hated people who were like that. Things could always be worse. But still. There was no denying that he wasn’t happy. For valid reasons. He was not happy because it was the middle of February. He was not happy because it was another cloudy, dreary day.
He was not happy because the shop had run out of lemon bars, so he couldn’t have one for dessert with his lunch. He’d had to settle for a piece of Linzer torte, which he also liked, but it just wasn’t what he wanted at that moment. He was not happy because his daughters seemed to be spending most of their time these days bickering and he was tired of hearing it. What they found to argue about never failed to amaze him. Really.
But he was most especially not happy because Ines had planned to come over to play Scrabble with him at one o’clock, but she’d had to cancel due to an emergency at the Longely Historical Society, although what could go wrong there, besides a fire or a flood—which there wasn’t—was a mystery to him. Not that he was wasting much time wondering. He was pretty sure he’d find out when she called later.
Then he’d wanted to work on his crossword puzzle and finish reading his book. But he couldn’t find either of those. Bernie had cleaned the house and put them heaven knew where. Given Bernie’s penchant for relocating things to odd places, he’d probably find them in the laundry basket three weeks from now. And then he’d just about decided to break down, call Marvin, and see if he could drive him to the mall—this not being able to drive was a terrible thing—when his day had gotten even worse.
A girl with pink and purple hair had burst in on him. She was carrying a dog in her arms and demanding to speak to his daughters. And when he told her they weren’t here, she’d put the dog down and burst into tears, which he couldn’t deal with at all. Well, it wasn’t that he couldn’t deal with it—between being married and being a law enforcement officer, he’d dealt with plenty of crying females in his life one way or another—it was that he didn’t want to deal with it. All that emotion just tuckered him out.
He’d had to calm her down, which he had done by feeding Samantha but-you-can-call-me-Sam the last of his chocolate-covered almonds, the expensive French ones that Ines had gotten for him when she’d been in Paris. And now, somehow or another, he had a snorting, wheezing pug sitting on his lap.
Actually, the pug had run straight over to him, stood up on her hind legs, and clawed at his pants. Samantha had picked up the pug and put it on his lap, saying, “Isn’t that cute. She really likes you,” before he’d had a chance to do anything. Like give the thing a little swat on the behind with the flat of his hand.
He didn’t think it was cute at all. He was not a big fan of dogs. Actually, he was not a big fan of animals of any kind. It’s not that he disliked them. In fact, he liked them. To a degree. But he’d grown up in the country and firmly believed that animals belonged outside, not sitting on him and trying to filch the last piece of his Linzer torte off the table.
“I assume this is Trudy,” Sean said to Samantha as the dog looked up at him with big bug eyes. Her tongue curled out of her mouth. She looked like an alien. What were these things used for? Nothing. They had no earthly use at all as far as Sean could see. Why would you breed something like this?
Samantha nodded. Her eyes began to mist up again. “I’ve done a terrible thing,” she wailed.
“I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” Sean said hastily. Actually, he couldn’t imagine the girl in front of him doing anything worse than jaywalking. If that. When you got beyond the hair color and the weird clothes, she looked like a skinny, frightened little girl.
“It is. I’m going to be put in jail. That’s why I came to see your daughters. I needed their advice, but they’re not here.” And Samantha started to sob again.
“Okay,” Sean said hastily. “Tell me instead.”
“Thanks for the offer, but you can’t help me. No one can. When my father hears what I’ve done, he’s going to throw me out of the house. Then I’ll have nowhere to go. I’ll have to live on the street and they’ll find me frozen to death.”
Sean interrupted her rant. “Let’s not get overly dramatic. I used to be the police chief here, so I think I’m certainly qualified to advise you on any situation you’ve gotten yourself embroiled in.”
Samantha wiped her nose on her sleeve. “You don’t know what I’ve done,” she said as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
“You killed someone.”
Samantha stopped crying. Her eyes widened in indignation. “What? Are you kidding me?” She put her hands on her hips. “Of course I didn’t kill anyone. Don’t be stupid.”
“Then you sold coke to an undercover agent and you’re looking at serious jail time,” Sean said as he pushed the dog away from the food.
“Don’t be ridiculous. What a thing to say!”
“Okay. You took Tru
dy.”
“How did you know I took Trudy?” Samantha asked.
“Because you’re here and Trudy’s here, so great detective that I am, I put two and two together.”
“How do you know she’s Trudy?”
Sean shrugged. “Who else can she be?” Sean was not someone who believed in random events.
“Cool,” Samantha said as she got up off the floor and went into the bathroom to wash her face, leaving Sean alone with the dog.
Trudy leaned against Sean’s chest and licked his hand.
“You want to get down?” Sean asked.
Trudy snorted. He tried to push her off, but she proved to be amazingly hard to move for something of that size.
“You just want to get closer to the food, don’t you?” Sean asked her.
She wagged her tail and gave Sean’s hand another quick lick. Well, she might not have it in the looks department, Sean thought, but she was smart. He’d give her that.
“All right,” he said. “I guess everyone deserves dessert now and then.” And he broke off a piece of the Linzer torte and held it out to Trudy, who very carefully took it out of Sean’s hand and ate it. “You have manners too.” Also not a bad thing.
Trudy snorted and worked her way deeper into Sean’s lap. She lifted her head up and gazed into his eyes. Actually, Sean reflected, she was kind of cute in an ugly sort of way. And really, if he thought about it, dogs like this did do valuable work. In a sense. They couldn’t herd sheep or protect a house against prowlers, but he could see that they would be good companions. And that was important too. Especially for shut-ins and people who couldn’t get around easily.
Of course, there was always the flea problem. He hated fleas. You got them in your house and you never got them out. They were scary little things. They could hibernate for up to two years. Then when the conditions were right, they’d spring out and bite you.
“Okay,” Sean said when Samantha came out of the bathroom. “Why don’t you tell me why you stole Trudy?”
“I didn’t steal her,” Samantha replied indignantly. “I rescued her.”
“Just tell me,” Sean said.
He wasn’t in the mood to get into a semantic discussion right now. As he listened to Samantha’s story—and it was a story and not a very good one at that—he began to formulate a plan. This situation might not be so bad after all.
“Do you have a car?” Sean asked Samantha when she was done talking.
Samantha looked at him as if he was crazy. “Of course I have a car. How do you think I got here?”
“Good,” he said. “Because we’re going to drive over to Ramona’s place.”
Samantha twisted a lock of pink hair around her finger. “Why would we do that?”
“Well, you just told me you found Trudy wandering outside.”
“I did?” Samantha asked.
“Yes, you did,” Sean said. “I distinctly heard you say that. You didn’t say you walked into Richard Colbert’s place and took her, because that would be stealing, correct?”
Samantha nodded. “If you say so.”
“I do. I’m just making sure we’re on the same page,” Sean told her.
“We are.”
“Good. Because we’re going to knock on Ramona’s door and ask her if Trudy is missing.”
“But she wasn’t wandering near Ramona’s place.”
Be nice, Sean told himself. “True,” he said to Samantha, “but Ramona doesn’t know that.”
“Oh,” Samantha said after a moment. “I get it. We’re going to play detective.”
“I don’t ‘play’ detective,” Sean said, stung to the core. “I am a detective.”
“Oops. Sor-ry.” Samantha bounced up and down on the sofa. “If you’re a detective, then I’m your trusty sidekick, right?”
“Right,” Sean said.
After all, Ramona was on the list of people who needed to be talked to and his daughters hadn’t gotten around to her yet, so why not take advantage of the opportunity that had been offered to him?
This way he’d get to see firsthand Ramona’s reactions to the questions that needed to be asked of her. That definitely beat listening to Bernie and/or Libby tell him what had happened. He’d always believed that in cases such as these direct experience was best. He’d believed it when he was the Longely chief of police and he believed it now. Anyway, talking to her certainly beat sitting around here doing nothing.
“This is so cool.” Samantha sprang up off the sofa. “Let’s go.” She was almost to the door when something else occurred to her. “Trudy is staying here, right?”
“Well…” Sean said.
“You can’t take her back there. You can’t.”
“I…” Sean hedged because he’d been planning on doing exactly that.
“Trudy’s a good girl. She’ll be fine.” Samantha ran over, got down on her knees, and grabbed Sean’s hands. “Please,” she begged.
“Get up,” Sean said.
“Not until you say yes.” Samantha gestured at Trudy, who was gazing at him with adoring eyes. “How could you consign her to a fate worse than death?”
“That is a little excessive. Now get up.”
“You promise?”
“All right,” Sean said. After all. Really. What could it hurt? How much harm could the dog do in the flat? All the furniture was old anyway and the carpet did need to be replaced. “But when we get back we have to figure out what to do with her, because she can’t stay here.”
Samantha jumped up and kissed the top of his head. “You are definitely the best.”
Sean felt himself beginning to blush.
Chapter 20
The moment that Sean and Samantha got down the stairs he regretted his prior suggestion to Samantha. He should have waited for the girls. So, he’d been a little bit bored. So, he’d been feeling a little bit sorry for himself. So what. It would have passed. But he hadn’t waited. He’d been in such an all-fired hurry to get out of the house. And now he had to contend with the matter of Samantha’s car. A Mini Cooper.
“Isn’t she too cute?” Samantha had squealed when he saw it. “Her name is Esmeralda. Don’t you think that’s a good name? You know, green? Emeralds? Get the connection?”
“Of course,” Sean muttered.
He didn’t think the vehicle was cute at all. It reminded him of a fancy tin can that had been painted green with checkerboard trim along the sides. Even the bumper cars in the amusement parks that he used to go to when he was a kid were better made than this thing.
Personally, he liked solid metal between him and every other vehicle on the road. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if one of these things collided with an SUV or a pickup truck. That’s why he hadn’t let Bernie buy one when she’d wanted to. He’d told her the vehicles were too dangerous and now he was going to be riding in one. Terrific. Karma, baby, as Bernie would say. She would find it funny. He, however, did not.
He looked at the Mini Cooper again. Of course, he was going to have to get into the thing first before he went for a ride. And that was going to be difficult. It was fine for a twenty-something like Samantha, who popped up and down like a jack-in-the-box. It wasn’t fine for someone like him, someone large and stiff in the knees. Even when he was younger it would have been a tight fit. In order to get in he was going to have to fold himself into an accordion shape. Frankly, he was too old to be pleated.
The only good thing was that Trudy wasn’t along. If she were she’d be sitting on his lap. Since there wasn’t room to move, his legs would probably go numb from her weight. Now that would be a disaster. They might go numb anyway if the ride was long enough, which he didn’t think it would be. And he didn’t even want to think about having to get out of the blasted car. That was a whole separate issue.
It would be worse than getting in. He could see it now. He’d get stuck and Samantha would have to grab his wrists and pull. He’d finally pop out and fall on his face like one of those clowns in
the circus. Or maybe the fire department would have to come. That would be unspeakably degrading. No, he wasn’t going to think about that.
He swore that he would never complain about riding in Marvin’s hearse again. Ever. Well, at least not for a month. Unless Marvin was using it to pick up a client, as he so euphemistically put it. But really that had happened only twice. And it couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t that Sean had anything against dead people. He’d seen plenty of them in his time. It just seemed kind of…well, tacky…to be combining errands, as it were.
And speaking of Marvin, Sean would never complain about his driving again. Samantha’s was even worse, Sean decided once he was in the car. Mario Andretti she was not. She’d peeled away from the curb in front of the shop without looking and had come within two inches of tearing off the sideview mirror on Mrs. Gupta’s Infinity. Then they’d torn through the streets without regard to pedestrians, or traffic, or lights, with Samantha shifting with gay abandon.
“You are all right, aren’t you?” Samantha asked as they sped through a yellow light at Ashcroft, Ashcroft being one of those tricky intersections where five lanes of traffic merge. It was just sheer luck that the SUV that Samantha had cut off had been able to brake in time.
Sean came out of his state of shock for a moment. “Are you talking to me?”
“Who else would I be talking to?” Samantha demanded.
“The traffic police,” Sean couldn’t help saying.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny.”
“It’s not funny. It’s true.”
“I’m not driving too fast for you, am I?” Samantha asked as she took the corner at Ash and Oak at fifty miles an hour. They actually went up on two wheels. “I mean, I know old folks like to go slow, so if you want I can gear down.”
Sean considered that option for all of two seconds. He wanted to say, Yes, please slow down, I don’t want to die yet, but his pride wouldn’t let him. Sometimes it sucked being a guy.
“No. It’s fine,” Sean heard himself telling Samantha. “In fact, you can go even faster if you like.” What had his mom said about pride being a terrible thing? Well, it looked as if she was correct.
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