by Gale Borger
A small round woman bustled through the open door. She waved a hanky and said, "Oh, Mister Ian, you are still here. Are you staying?" She looked around. "Do you want me to start now or come back?"
Ian hugged her. "Louisa, you can begin whenever you want. I'll be out of your way in a minute. Mag? Are you about ready?" Mag numbly nodded her head. "Good. You just keep those clothes on–you can change when we get to your house. Is that okay with you?"
Mag nodded again. Ian took off down the hall and Kitty flew after him. "I'll get our stuff, Mag. You can get rid of the popcorn bowl and find your shoes. Will that be okay?" Mag once again nodded her head.
Shannon turned to a dazed Mag. "It was great meeting you, Mag. Sorry I'm kicking you out, but we've been planning this for weeks."
Mag put her shoes on and stood. "No, that's fine. We probably should have left already anyway." She yawned.
Coming back into the room, Ian waggled his eyebrows and winked at Mag. "It has been a real long two days and neither of us has had much sleep."
Shannon cringed and held up a hand. "Stop! Too much information! I'll change the sheets."
Mag blushed and tried to correct herself. "No, what I mean is that you don't have to change the sheets. We didn't, uh, in the bed…" She turned even redder and looked beseechingly at Ian as he waltzed back into the kitchen.
Ian grinned at both women. "No, but you might want to change the water in the hot tub!"
"Oh Ewwwe, you sick jerk! Maggie, how can you stand this knob?"
Mag made for the front door. "I'll take that as a rhetorical question and get out of here. Nice meeting you, Shannon."
"You, too."
Ian set Kitty to flight, and he flapped off into the atrium. The Banana Palm leaves shook when he landed. Ian kissed Shannon on the cheek and headed for the door. He carried an unzipped duffel stuffed full of clothes and his files.
"See you later, brat. Hey, you get to feed the Kitty–don't forget, no pizza this time, and tell your friends to either empty their beer glasses or drink out of a can. I don't want to come home to a drunken bird with pizza breath."
"Okay, okay. Kitty food only. Got it. Thanks again for your place!"
"Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty," came from the Banana Palm as Ian followed Mag out the door.
22
While Ian and Mag were busy falling in love on their way to Milwaukee, I sat staring at the whiteboard in my living room, trying to connect the dots. I decided to check my answering machine, and saw the red light flashing. I punched the message button.
"Hi Buzz, this is Malcolm. I'm calling on official Coroner business. It's regarding Carole. I have the results of the autopsy sans the toxicology report. Either call me or stop in when you have time. Thanks."
I looked at the date. Shit. He'd called early this morning. I grabbed my keys and headed for the door, punching in Mee-me's number. He answered and I told him I was coming in. Next I punched in J.J.'s cell. I got his voice mail and left a message for him to call me.
I drove to the Coroner's Office by way of downtown. I noticed my mother's car at Sal's–didn't want her seeing me. She loves to badger Malcolm about who's in the cold storage. I turned right and went around the block in case she was looking out the window. I noticed Mary's and Joy's cars were also in the parking lot. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of mischief Mom and her cronies were stirring up. Dad's problem, not mine, I reminded myself as I pulled into the medical building's parking lot.
Mee-me met me at the door and we went into his office. He sat behind his desk and slid the report across to me. He rearranged his blotter, straightened his pencils and pens, pulled at his tie, and kept glancing at the clock.
"Malcolm, are you feeling okay this morning?"
He cleared his throat and fidgeted. He pushed his glasses up his nose and cleared his throat again. "I, uh, nothing, Buzz. Excuse me a minute, take your time."
He got up and bolted from the room. I sat there momentarily thinking about how strange it was for Malcolm to just get up and leave like that. It was also strange that he did not ask after Fred.
I got up to follow him. I opened the door and almost ran into him. "Malcolm, for God's sake, what the hell is wrong with you?"
He stared at me for a moment and brushed by me, picking up the autopsy report. He shook it at me. "This, Buzz. This is what's bothering me; the results. I went over Carole with a fine tooth comb. The bullet killed her, but she had the crap knocked out of her before she was shot."
Tongue-in cheek, I teased him. "Is that what the report says in professional terms?"
"Don't laugh at me, Buzz. A nice lady like that shouldn't have to go that way." He flipped open the report and pointed. "Look here, I found wood chips and bark in her hair where she bled from the back of the skull. I sent Ivan over to check around the trees near your folk's house. He came back with a log from the woodpile with hair, blood, and broken fingernails that match up to Carole. There were also embedded fibers in the log which initially match her tee shirt in color and type."
I looked at the autopsy photos and the log. I felt a little ill and took a cleansing breath. "With the fingernails embedded in the wood, she was probably either scrambling to get away or she picked up the log to fight back." I again looked down at the pictures. "It looks like they beat the living daylights out of her with that log."
Mee-me showed me the police photos. "J.J. actually came up with the theory. I just matched up the wounds. I think he's right because it looks to me like they shot her by the wood pile when she tried to escape. She was killed over at your Mom and Dad's, Buzz."
I tried not to panic. "I see that. What the heck was she doing over at Mom and Dad's that night? What does that say about our murderer, and what about the gak under what finger nails she had left?"
"J.J. had me scrape the nails and I sent that off with the rest of it to the crime lab for DNA testing. I also need to tell you that one of the dead guys from your night out at the Graff's place had interesting scratch marks on his jaw and chin. I sent a sample of his DNA to the crime lab too. I'm thinking we're going to get a match."
I thought about that piece of information for a minute. "Well, doesn't that just wrap this murder up all nice and tidy?"
Malcolm bit his lip and cleared his throat again. "With a pink bow on top. So does that mean this is over?"
I walked over and placed the file on Mee-me's desk. I didn't know how much I should reveal about the drug connection. "Not by a long shot. What bothers me is that there are still so many unanswered questions about this case. I don't want J.J. to close the book on this, but I'm afraid he doesn't have enough evidence of a secondary crime to delve further into it, so it's over. Now I find out that I killed the guy who probably killed her."
I ticked off the humiliating points on my fingers. "The victim is dead, the perp is dead, the whole damn thing is dead. When J.J. finds out I killed his defendant, I'm probably dead too."
Malcolm bustled over to his desk. "That's why I wanted to talk to you first. Word has it that J.J. is pretty pissed at you for, um, you know…your midnight rendezvous with your killer amigos and all."
He jerked his head toward the cold room where, through the window I could see good old Ivan smiling and nodding at me, pointing to the bad guy he was cutting on.
I let out an exasperated sigh. "Does everyone know about that? No, don't tell me. I already know the answer. And what do you mean you wanted me to know first? Didn't you already show J.J. these results?" Malcolm slowly shook his head, biting his lip and stepping away from me.
"Oh, shit. Malcolm, I gotta get out of here! You never saw me! Call J.J. and give him the report." I grabbed my keys off the desk and hustled out of his office. I was jogging down the hall and calling over my shoulder, "Malcolm, call J.J. right away. I don't want him to think th–" I ran full bodied into a brick wall. I bounced off and looked up at J.J. scowling down at me. In full defensive stance, legs apart, and hands on hips, he blocked my only way out. He took a step forward an
d I took one back. He stepped toward me again and I retreated.
He walked me backward until we came even with Malcolm's office where he grabbed me by the sleeve and dragged me with him. He dumped me in a chair as he stormed behind Malcolm's desk. He tapped the autopsy report. Very casually, he asked, "So, what's the Buzz, Buzz? Was anyone going to invite me to this party? And what is it that you don't want me to think?"
He pulled his reading glasses out of his pocket and put them on. He looked at me from over the top. "Before you even ask, Jane Knight was behind you when you made that right turn to avoid your mother. She went straight to Sal's to tell her. I was having coffee at the time and heard you were here. I couldn't imagine that you and Malcolm were having a tête-à-tête with Fred still in the picture. The only other thing you have in common is the murder, and the autopsy report." He banged a fist on the desk. "MY autopsy report!" I flinched and Malcolm shrank back and fled down the hall.
I figured the best defense was a good offense. "I called you and left a message to call me. I wanted you to come with me to read the report. How was I supposed to know you hadn't seen it?
"I was in the process of telling Malcolm to call you because I didn't want you thinking exactly what you are thinking."
He stopped reading and again looked at me over the tops of those damn glasses. "And what is it, my darling Buzz that I am thinking?"
I blinked at the absurd address, and realized J.J. was angrier than I had ever seen him. Oh well, honesty was even better than a good offense. What was he going to do, shoot me? "That I was being low-down, sneaky, and going behind your back. That I somehow coerced Malcolm into letting me see the report first. That I was sneaking off when I ran into you and I was going to run off half-cocked into some situation out of which you would have to come and rescue my sorry ass."
He stared at the ceiling, his steepled fingers tapping on his lip. "Yep, that about sums it up. So what did you and Malcolm find out?"
I glared at him. He could be so damn annoying! "That it was Colonel Mustard, in the library, with the wrench!"
He barked out a laugh. "Damn, and here I thought it was going to be the knife. Quit trying to soften me up Buzz. It's hard to stay mad at you when you do stuff like that."
"Not after I tell you that the guy who murdered Carole is probably the same guy I killed out at the greenhouse."
I heard J.J. suck in a long breath through his teeth. He pursed his lips and slapped his palms down on Malcolm's desk. He pushed himself to his feet, shoving Malcolm's chair against the wall. "Well, I guess that's it."
He picked up the autopsy report and slid it inside his jacket. I jumped to my feet. He walked around the desk and rested his hand on the back of my neck.
I jumped about a foot in the air and he patted me between the shoulder blades. Absently, he rubbed my neck. "Come on, Buzz, let's get out of here."
Damn, that felt good. No wonder the dogs love it so much. In a daze, I asked, "Mmmm, are you talking to me?"
He sighed and lightly grabbed the back of my neck. He steered me down the hall. I stumbled going out the door. "No, I'm talking to the mouse in your pocket! Of course I mean you."
I grinned and tested the waters. "Am I under arrest now, Officer? Am I going to ride in your big police car now? Are you going to guide my head through the door after you cuff me? Am I going to ride in the back with the puke and the bugs? That's one sure way to piss me off."
He shifted his arm around my shoulders and laughed. "Damn it Buzz, you sure know how to castrate a guy with words, don't you? I just thought maybe we'd get a cup of coffee or just go to your house so I can yell at you in private and play with the dogs."
I was so relieved I had tears in my eyes. He noticed before I could look away. "Hey, now, no need to get sloppy over a cup of joe, pal. We could go to my house, but you've got the bonus of having the dogs."
I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve. "J.J., you and I go back a long way and I would have hated to do something stupid enough to jeopardize our friendship. Besides, my dogs would disown me if you didn't come over any more."
He laughed again and squeezed my shoulders. "Kid, it would take a lot more than a misplaced bullet to wreck what we have. Hell, we're practically like an old married couple as it is." He kissed the top of my head.
23
I smiled and got a tingly-mushy feeling. It scared the living shit out of me. Not J.J., I yelled at myself. I ducked out from under his arm and jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow.
"Yeah, hot shot, and we'll be front page news if Gossip Central sees you hugging on me in public, so knock it off."
He grinned and shoved me sideways. "Oh, God, could you imagine? Your mom would be picking out china this afternoon! Mag would bitch constantly 'cause she had to wear a dress. Fred would rip hers when she fell off her shoes walking up the aisle, and Al would make sure she was in all the pictures! Ha-ha!" He stumbled against the squad in a fit of laughter. "Can you picture Wesley knocking the cake over? Ha-ha, it's a good thing we never went that route!"
The truth hurts, they say, and the warm fuzzy feeling I was afraid of vanished into thin air. When the laughter didn't stop I became downright grumpy. "Yeah, yeah, it's a good thing you escaped with your life, now come on turkey-butt; you owe me coffee." I marched off to my own car and slammed the door.
J.J. sobered and trotted over to the driver's window. I lowered it a crack. He seemed to think that was funny too and I almost ran over his toes just to shut him up. "Come on, Buzz. You know it was funny. Lighten up! I have an idea. Why don't you follow me over to my house and I'll drop the squad off? That way no one will see it parked in your driveway."
At my scowl he said, "Who started on Gossip Central?"
I sighed. "Okay, Cowboy, let's go. You buy the pizza and I'll pull out the good china and the Irish linen."
He clasped his hands over his heart and sighed loudly to the Heavens. "The paper plates and the paper towels. What more could a man ask for in his lifetime. A beer, perhaps?" He waggled his eyebrows.
I laughed. "Beer I got."
"You are the perfect woman, Buzz Miller."
"Just don't let it get around. I don't have time to fight them all off."
He was still chuckling as he got into his squad. I followed him across town to his house. He parked the squad, grabbed a duffel bag out of the back, and jumped into my car. I took off and he peeled off his uniform shirt. I looked at him. He grinned and tossed it into the back seat. I turned on my street and he pulled his tee shirt out of his pants and dispensed with it in the same manner.
It shocked the crap out of me, but I tried for nonchalance. "Damn, you look pretty good for an old guy, Green!"
He poked at his biceps. "I don't know, Buzz, I keep finding soft spots that won't go away."
I held up a hand. "Let's not get into your love life, J.J.. This is a family show." I laughed at my own joke.
He stuck his nose in the air. "When I said soft spots, I was not referring to Mr. Ed."
I hooted. "Mr. Ed? Who the hell would name his penis Mr. Ed?"
He sang, "A horse is a horse, of course, of course…"
I banged my head against the headrest and moaned in disbelief. "Please spare me, Oh Keeper of the Equine Erectus!"
"Laugh now, Oh Ye of Little Faith. Once you sneak a peek at Mr. Ed…."
I pulled into the driveway wiping the tears out of my eyes. I was still laughing as I turned off the car.
"Oh, give me a break, James Joseph Green. First of all, I have no intention of peeking at the One-Trick Pony. Even if it were true, you couldn't keep something like that a secret in this town. I'd have read it on a bathroom stall by now."
We exited the car. He put his nose in the air. "Mr. Ed is very discriminating." He waggled his eyebrows at me from across the roof of the car. "But look at you! I can still make 'em cry!" He ducked in, grabbed the duffel bag, and headed for the house. I stood still, dumb struck. He yelled, "Come on, slowpoke, toss me the keys!"
I
threw them to him and gathered my notes. I closed the car door just as he got the front door open. I thought about warning him, but just smiled as he shoved the door open.
Wesley catapulted across the threshold and planted his enormous front feet on J.J.'s chest. They both flew off the porch and hit the ground. J.J.'s duffel bag bounced and rolled to my feet. I picked it up and walked past the roiling mass of big man and big dog.
I met Hill on her way out to greet J.J. She waited patiently until Wes and J.J. were both exhausted from rolling around on the ground. She walked forward and put her head in his hand. He rubbed her ears and asked, "How's my best girl today?" Hilary closed her eyes in ecstasy and delicately passed gas.
He jumped to his feet. "Whew! I guess that answered that question! Come on, guys." He strolled through the front door, the dogs happily trailing behind him.
I called from the kitchen, "I ordered the pizza and your duffel bag is on the couch." I set the coffee pot on automatic for the morning and walked back into the living room. It was empty. I walked down the hall. "J.J.? Wes? Hill? Where the heck is everybody?"
I heard water running and went into the master bedroom. Sure enough, my shower was running. "J.J.? What are you doing?"
"Playing Parcheesi, what does it sound like? Or would you rather come in and take a look for yourself?" He proceeded to neigh.
I laughed and shook my head. "No thanks, John Stud. You get that pony corralled all by yourself. When you're ready, come down and have pizza and beer." I walked out and laughed again when I heard neighing and pawing from behind the door. The dogs cocked their heads and stared at the door.
I was almost to the kitchen when I had a sudden thought. I was not expecting company today–especially of the male variety. I tried to remember how I'd left my bathroom. Did I leave any unmentionable or humiliating things lying around?
I chewed my fingernails and feared the worst. J.J. came whistling around the corner and stopped in the doorway. I took one look and my brain turned to mush. Fresh from the shower, he wore an old threadbare football jersey with the sleeves torn off. His sweat pants rode low on his hips and his feet were bare. He looked good enough to take a bite out of and smelled like a dream. That wonderful combination of soap and testosterone; ggrrrrr, come to Mama! I pulled up short, but sneaked in one more whiff. Whoa, there! Get hold of yourself, girl.