by R. P. Dahlke
“I know it sounds odd, but I guess I simply needed to hear you say it.”
“I didn’t kill Arthur. He was a good man. The best….” Her words dropped off to a sigh.
This was the way she’d first described him to me—a good man, her hero—because she loved him, adored him, worshipped the ground he walked on? Or because she felt obligated, and had no other choice? She told us she felt responsible for her godfather’s death and for Arthur’s having to go into the program. Arthur got a new identity with a spiffy new name, a pretty young wife, and an exciting new career. But did Nancy really understand how this would play out for herself? A Las Vegas girl giving it all up for a backwater town in the middle of California farmland? Or suddenly married to a man she barely knew and probably didn’t love, when she had no job, no family, or friends?
I heard a car turning on to our road. It was Pearlie and Aunt Mae back from town, no doubt loaded with groceries and ready for gossip. Nancy stood, restless and nervous.
“It’s only my cousin and great-aunt.”
“I know, but….”
“But you don’t think my cousin likes you—join the club. You’d think with her orphaned of her parents that we’d gravitate to each other. But Pearlie sees every female as competition for whatever man she’s interested in at the moment.”
“And I’m a widow who may be charged with murdering her husband. Why can’t she get that I’m not competition?”
“You’d be shocked to hear this, but she’d happily trade places with you if it meant she finally managed to get a man to the altar.”
“She’s never married?”
“Aunt Mae does tend to find the worm at the bottom of the tequila bottle. It’s not that she wants to discourage her granddaughter from a happy marriage. It’s more like that she can’t bear the thought of Pearlie going through five unhappy marriages.”
Nancy smiled, now a little more relaxed. “Sometimes we women outthink ourselves.”
“Hey, I’m best when I’m multi-tasking.”
The relatives got out of the rental and waved us over to the open trunk.
“You see the newspaper today?” Pearlie rushed the plastic bag on to my wrists, confirming my status as a beast of burden. “We did. A break-in at the Bains residence, and that Lalla Bains shot and wounded the burglar.”
“Great,” I said, hefting another bag on to my arm. “Now all my customers will have an excuse to greet me with a shotgun when I come to collect those tardy invoices.”
“Yes, but the paper made it sound as if the guy the police took in for questioning was the only one. You think Jim Balthrop is responsible for keeping it out of the news?”
“Don’t know,” I said, lugging my haul to the kitchen door.
Nancy trailed in behind us and unloaded her bags on to the kitchen table.
I counted twice the usual number of grocery bags. “Who’s coming to dinner, the Peruvian Army?”
Pearlie ignored me and fluttered around the table, checking the bags.
Aunt Mae did that eye roll that said she was allowing me one guess.
“Mad Dog? But Pearlie, don’t you think—”
Pearlie waved a long carrot at my face. “He has every bit as much right to be here as the marshal does. No offense, Nancy, but I promised the man a home-cooked meal and—and I’m gonna see he gets one tonight.”
What she meant was, now that Nancy’s prospects were looking like she was about to be fitted for an orange jumpsuit, she was feeling relaxed enough to have him at our dinner table.
<><><><>
Dinner was interesting, just not in the way Pearlie had in mind. I sat with Caleb and Mad Dog on one side of the dinner table, Aunt Mae, Nancy, and Pearlie on the other side, and my dad and Jim Balthrop anchoring each end.
Mad Dog was incredibly solicitous of Nancy, offering her second helpings, filling her water glass, diverting her with his military history. She answered politely, glancing once or twice at Jim, who to his credit ignored the display and kept up a running conversation with Aunt Mae.
Finally, Pearlie stood up and sniffed. “This room has gone all stuffy. I’m going out to the porch for some fresh air. Are you coming, Mad Dog?”
He looked up and smiled. “In a minute, darlin’. I don’t want to leave the ladies to clear up all by themselves.”
Everyone but Mad Dog was aware of Pearlie’s muttered cursing. The front door slammed so hard the glasses on the dinner table shuddered.
My dad looked to Aunt Mae for some explanation of what just happened. He put down his fork and touched his face for errant pieces of food that might have offended his niece’s delicate sensibilities. Apparently that wasn’t it. “Did I forget to compliment her on her cooking?” When Aunt Mae didn’t answer, he looked at me. “Should I go tell her now?” Then to Caleb, he said, “Best cook this side of the Rockies. Can’t have her sore at me.”
I waved him back in his seat. “Mad Dog, you’re our guest tonight. We’ll have this cleaned up in a few minutes. Go on out to the porch with Pearlie and enjoy the evening.”
He blinked, looked from me to Nancy, and reddened. Finally, it sank in that he was the one who was responsible for Pearlie’s bad mood. He pushed back his chair and stood. “If y’all will excuse me, I think have some ’pologizin’ to do.”
When he was gone, I said, “And he wonders why women aren’t falling at his feet.”
Nancy giggled and Aunt Mae snorted.
My dad shook his head in disgust. “You women all talk in some kind of code. I’m going to take Bruce for a walk. Work off the meal.”
Aunt Mae called after him, “Anytime you’re ready to admit that four-legged critter is ready to barbeque, just let me know!”
The kitchen door slammed and we girls had another good laugh.
Jim stood and offered to help clear the table. Nancy agreed to let him and the two of them started removing dishes to take to the kitchen.
Caleb said, “I guess I’d better head out, too.”
“Wait,” I said, “just for a bit, or we might interrupt something private.”
Caleb thought about that and nodded. “Then I’ll help with the dishes.”
When cleanup was finished and the lovebirds hadn’t returned, I told Caleb it was probably best if he left by the kitchen door. He kissed me and shook Jim’s hand, sure that with Jim at our home the doors would be locked and the alarm set. And before he said goodnight, he reminded us that two sheriff’s cars were on patrol all night.
Dad hung Bruce’s leash on a hook on the same rack Juanita hung her purse when she was here. Which reminded me to ask, “You hear from Juanita lately?”
“Oh. Yeah. She called.”
I swatted him with the dishtowel. “Why do I have to pull information out of you? What’d she say, Dad?”
He stuck his head in the fridge again and mumbled some incantation to the refrigerator god, then closed the door. “No pie left?”
“That’s not what I asked. Now tell me. What did Juanita say? Is she going to get to see her grandkids or not?”
When his eyebrows danced, I shook my finger at him. “Are you trying to tell me she’s not coming back?”
He rubbed his arms along his sleeves as if a chilling threat had passed too close. “She’s going to petition the court for grandparent rights.”
“The daughter-in-law wouldn’t let her see her own grandkids? Well, then the court will help her change her mind.”
“I thought so, too.”
He read the expression on my face and said, “Awright, so I offered to help. I paid for the attorney and court costs. Told her it was a gift, not a loan. You happy now?”
What he should say was that she deserved it, putting up with him all these years. I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever done, and just right, too,” I said, pulling back and swiping at my leaking tears. “Really. I’m very proud of you.”
“God knows, I can’t keep Pearlie forever,” he sniffed. �
�Might as well have my housekeeper back, even if her cooking isn’t as good as Pearlie’s. Besides, Juanita’s practically family, you know.”
My dad, the romantic.
Aunt Mae had a big smile on her face too, but instead of adding to his mounting embarrassment, she gave her wig a scratch. “Time I took off this dang hair piece and went to bed.”
Jim excused himself for the TV room and Nancy and I sat down with a cup of tea. She said, “I don’t know what to make of your cousin, Lalla. I’ve been extra careful not to appear like I was flirting with Mad Dog.”
“No one thought you were, least of all, Pearlie. She’s just got her feathers in a fluff because she thinks he’s her personal property.” I wasn’t about to tell her that Pearlie’s campaign for Mad Dog would include some trash talk about the competition.
Nancy took a sip of her tea. “Well, he doesn’t do a thing for me, and I still can’t get past the idea that he may have brought Arthur’s killer to your party.”
“The jury is still out on that, but I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“And he’s dating your cousin.”
“Not that it gives him any points with this family, since wooing the Bains women seems to be a pattern with Mad Dog. I sure didn’t want him.”
She shook her head and smiled at the idea. “I think Caleb’s a much better choice. You two seem to fit.”
“Do you think you and Arthur were a fit?”
She faced the wall where on the other side Jim Balthrop was probably going over leads that would help him find Arthur’s killer. “He never let me down. He protected me with his life, and really, there’s no better kind of love than that, is there?”
I took her comments to mean she was talking about Arthur, but I had to wonder if in her heart she wasn’t wishing she could have chosen another man. “No, I guess not. That’s what men do, or should do, for the women they love—be willing to protect us with their lives. I know Caleb sure keeps trying, but I tend not to mind his very good advice. What about the marshal? Correct me if I’m wrong, but he appears to have feelings for you.”
“I don’t know, Lalla. He’s an attractive man and every time he walks in the door, my heart skips a beat. But then I wonder if that’s just what my psychiatrist called transference. That I’m transferring my affections from one protector to another.”
“You had a psychiatrist? Was that before or after you went into WitSec?”
“It’s a required part of their adjustment program.”
“Makes sense, but do you think it’s true—what you’re feeling for him?”
“I don’t know what to think. I’m not exactly in any position to start a flirtation. Besides that, he’s risking his job with the federal marshal program, getting involved with my problems. If they find out, he could be in trouble, or worse, he could lose his job.”
I was impressed with her calm reasoning. It was mature and unselfish for a twenty-eight-year-old. “You have us, Nancy—me, Caleb, and my dad. We’re going to see you through this.”
Outside, I heard Mad Dog leave and Pearlie came back into the kitchen, her eyes sparkling. “It was just a silly misunderstanding.” A blush rose on Pearlie’s chest and spread to her neck, a sure sign that her scheme to mash Nancy’s reputation had backfired.
She flopped down into a chair across from Nancy. “I hope you don’t mind, but I had to tell him just every little thing—about the police and all. He’s such an ol’ sweetie, he didn’t realize how it would look to some of us.”
Pearlie caught my smirk and fast-balled it back at me. “He was only trying to make the poor thing feel at home. But I told him that’s what us women folk are for—isn’t that right, Nancy?”
Nancy, only too eager to find some common ground with my difficult cousin, nodded.
“So,” I asked, “you’re still going out with Mad Dog?”
“Of course. That man is a dream on the dance floor.”
Oh, boy. One night of the “Cotton-Eyed Joe” in a local honky-tonk and Pearlie had him in her sights for the altar.
I thought we ought to do a head count on the weapons we had in the house. “Pearlie, did you and Aunt Mae bring your guns with you?”
“Do bears poop in the woods?” She set her purse on the table, and from an outside zippered compartment, pulled out a handgun. “Had the bag custom made. You won’t catch me fumbling around inside my purse for a gun.” She held up the pistol for us to admire. “Keltec P-3AT, .380 caliber. It’s a nice semiautomatic. Six rounds is plenty. And it’s bigger than a .32 and smaller than a .38. It’s lightweight, and easy to handle for a woman’s smaller hands. Try it,” she said, shoving the grip into my hand.
I hefted the small gun. “Is it empty?”
“Don’t be silly, of course it’s not empty. Wait,” she said, clearing the chamber and popping out the clip. “Now it’s empty. And Granny is right—you need to get yourself some practice. She’s got a Smith & Wesson Lady Smith you might like, but it’s too bulky for me.” Then remembering her manners, she added, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt Nancy to learn how to shoot, too.”
Nancy shied away from the gun, but then changed her mind. “Can I hold it?”
Pearlie handed her the gun by the grip and Nancy held it in the palm of her hands, as if it were a baby bird. Pearlie did one of her grandmother’s indelicate snorts. “It’s not going to bite you,” she said, taking back the gun.
“You know,” I said, “there’s no reciprocal between Texas and California for a concealed weapons permit, so keep it zippered in that bag, but keep it handy. I don’t want any more surprises tonight.”
Pearlie winked and turned for the stairs. “Not with my Pearlie special loaded.”
When she left, Nancy huffed out a laugh. “She’s really something.”
“My cousin and Aunt Mae are crack shots, but with no practice I’m kinda rusty. Will you take Pearlie’s offer for target practice?”
“Oh, gosh, I’m such a weenie about guns. No, thanks. I think it’s safer to leave the shooting to someone like your Texas relatives.”
Ah yes, my Texas relatives. I wondered if the charming and generous Mad Dog knew my cousin was packing heat.
Chapter Eleven:
With Marshal Balthrop now sleeping downstairs on a couch, not to mention his new security system attached to TV cameras around our house, I’d slept just fine. I threw off the covers and glanced at Nancy, asleep on her cot. She was on her side facing the wall, her breathing even and steady. It looked like we’d both enjoyed a much deserved rest, uninterrupted by nighttime intruders.
What we needed was a diversion from Cousin Pearlie’s sandpaper personality. And I knew just where we could get it. Roxanne was hosting our wedding reception. I could use that as the excuse to get Nancy out of the house for a few hours.
Of course, Jim would follow, and we’d have to run the gauntlet of curious patrons, most of whom used Roxanne’s as Modesto’s clearing house for gossip, but it would be worth it since Roxanne’s skills as a therapist might give me a better take on Nancy.
Besides, Leon made the best pies in Stanislaus County and I was hungry.
I was eating too much again. Lately, I noticed a muffin blooming over the top of my jeans. If I kept this up, I wouldn’t fit into that nice linen dress I had selected from the back of my closet for the wedding. If I admitted that my selected wedding dress wasn’t going to fit, Pearlie would have me into that pink Chanel in nothing flat. Maybe I’d lay off the pie. Either that, or I was going to have to take over the job of walking Bruce, the goat.
I woke Nancy, and while she dressed, I called Roxanne to give her a heads-up we were coming. With Jim trailing out the door behind us, we escaped before either Aunt Mae or Cousin Pearlie could ask to tag along. I could always say they weren’t downstairs in time.
<><><><><>
I opened the front door to Roxanne’s and let Nancy precede me into the diner, leaving Jim to amble inside and take a seat by the door.
Since the only customers were those with nothing better to do than sit around, gossip, and drink coffee, they turned en masse and shared appreciative nods. Of course we were an improvement over the usual clientele, since most of them sported overalls and a day-old beard. We, on the other hand, were one tall skinny-legged blonde, and a delicate brunette whose rosebud mouth, turned-up nose, and bruised, shadowed eyes fairly begged for the sympathetic clucking that would surely start the minute we sat down.
I kept us moving past tables and greetings to the far end of the counter. Seeing my spot was occupied by a local farmer, I waited while he moved his plate and coffee two seats over.
Nancy asked the obvious question. “You own this seat?”
“Well. Yes. I guess. After I discovered who killed the really nice old lady who used to occupy this stool everyone insisted I have it.”
Nancy tugged on her ear, and for the first time today, smiled. “You mean nobody else wanted to sit at the dead lady’s place.”
“Oh. I really never looked at it that way.” And to think Leon served me my favorite chocolate chip pie, and everyone applauded. Now I understood why—I’d lifted the curse on the dead woman’s spot.
One of Roxanne’s waitresses came by, laid two menus on the counter, and smiled at Nancy. “Hi, Lalla. Breakfast, or just coffee?”
“This is my friend Nancy.” I left off her last name in case it showed up in the newspaper this morning. Though it would be nice if Jim were able to quash the news in our local paper, I doubted his leave of absence included that kind of power. I slid a copy over and unfolded it to the front page. Larry the loser, as Caleb called him, wasn’t glamorous enough to warrant more than one line in yesterday’s paper. Larry, Caleb said, was in jail awaiting arraignment on armed robbery, home invasion, and attempted kidnapping charges.
We ordered coffee and breakfast, then asked the waitress if she would alert Roxanne we were here.
Roxanne personally brought our breakfast plates. Two eggs each, hash browns, and sausage for both of us. I had to eat with her, she needed it. I’d worry later about how I was going to work off the fat and carbs. Roxanne topped off our coffee, put another mug on the counter, and then came around and shooed the farmer down another couple of stools so she could sit next to Nancy.