by R. P. Dahlke
I waited most of the evening for my cousin to break down and cry from the horror of shooting Burdell Smith’s killer. She lasted through dinner, two shots of my dad’s Johnny Walker, a hot tub, and finally to bed, all rosy and tipsy in her short pink baby-doll, which thankfully for me, since I put her to bed, included a pair of sweats instead of her usual matching thong.
Around midnight, I heard a sound. I sat up in bed, waiting to hear it again. I counted the minutes and there it was—a moan rising into a cry, and then into a long wail, ending with a sob. My great-aunt’s voice, crooning, consoling Pearlie.
I lay down again, and pulling the covers up to my chin, watched as the ghosts from my own nightmares melted back into the woodwork.
Chapter Seventeen:
My cousin Pearlie and I sat at the breakfast table drowsily blowing on our first cups of coffee. She put down her mug. “Why is it that every man I show the least bit of interest in gets put on your growing list of suspects?”
“Keep your voice down, will you? Aunt Mae is trying to sleep.” I got up and poured myself another cup. “I know how it sounds, Pearlie, but you have to admit, you just met him yesterday.”
“You’re one to talk. Yesterday you weren’t so sure about Mad Dog, and now it’s the ag school owner’s son? I have his card. He’s a bona fide attorney in Sacramento. Does that sound like the kind of man who would risk a good career for a bribe?”
Make that bribe big enough and I could see any number of people who might take the bait, but I wasn’t going to argue the point with my cousin, at least not now. “Pearlie, you were the one who said you wanted to help me prove Nancy innocent.”
“I never said that. I said I wanted to know if Mad Dog was lying, but if you’re gonna nitpick, let me remind you that I did save your butt yesterday, so I reckon you oughta give me some slack in the man department.”
“You’re right. And I’m sorry you had to shoot that guy, even if he was a killer.”
“If I hadn’t, we’d both be dead instead of arguing here in your daddy’s kitchen. Mentioning of dead, when are you gonna get a new stove? I know these old Wolf’s are guaranteed to last for life, but I think this one busted a gut during the Hoover administration.”
I ignored her diatribe on our kitchen equipment. “I presume your granny gave you a sedative.”
Her quick shudder told me everything I needed to know about last night’s bad dreams. “Okay, just ’cause you say so, I won’t accept any dates with the aero-ag owner’s son. I was only looking for a way to make Mad Dog jealous anyways.”
Now this was interesting. I thought Pearlie had secured Mad Dog’s devotion. “He’s losing interest?”
“I don’t know,” she said, pouting. “He said he had to go to Fresno today, check on a sick friend—and you know what that means—he’s got another babe on the hook.”
Mad Dog visiting a sick friend? Not the Mad Dog I knew. Or, was he visiting someone who’d been shot in the leg and ran out of our house bleeding? Jack Lee Carton, Arthur’s killer, the one who convinced Mad Dog to bring him to our barbeque.
“Did you ask if he’d like to have you along for the ride?”
She sniffed. “I already did that. He’s wasn’t interested. Says his friend might be contagious. I hope he gets crabs and herpes!”
“When did you talk to him? Did he leave yet?”
She shrugged, not particularly interested now that his attentions weren’t on her.
I pulled out my cell and hit auto dial for his number. While it rang, I considered how I would handle this; appeal to his moral side? I wasn’t sure Mad Dog had one. Money—that was the ticket.
I told Pearlie to wait, and when he answered, I said, “Mad Dog. I have your check for this week. You want to swing by and pick it up? You’re having lunch at Marie Callender’s? I’m on my way into town, how about I drop it off? Sure, not a problem.”
I closed the phone. “I’ll find out where he’s going and let you know.”
Pearlie hung on my arm. “Not without me, you’re not! I need to know where I stand with this guy.”
“Don’t be hasty. If he didn’t invite you, he won’t be happy to see you now.”
“I’ll be all scooched down in your car. Come on, Lalla, if you don’t take me, I’ll go nuts.”
I thought of another idea, one that might help me find out if my suspicions were right. “Has Mad Dog seen your rental car?”
“No,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Great idea. He’ll never suspect if we follow him in the rental.”
The downside was I would have to involve Pearlie again. “What’s Aunt Mae doing right now?”
“What time is it?”
I looked at my watch. “Ten-thirty, why?”
“She’s halfway through her morning nap.”
“Get the keys. If she wakes up, tell her you’re going downtown to shop. And Pearlie, don’t stop to put on your damn makeup.”
She rolled her lips in and out, considering, I supposed, whether or not it was worth the risk to defy me or miss out on finding out what Mad Dog was up to, and with whom.
<><><><>
Reminding her of her promise to remain out of sight, I got out of her rental. Laying low however, didn’t preclude her yelling out the window. “Don’t forget to find out who he’s havin’ lunch with!”
Inside, Mad Dog leaned out of his booth and waved. I did a quick peek at his lunch partner and automatically recoiled.
“Miz Bains.” Detective Rodney tipped his ice tea glass in salute. The detective was doing what—going over details that would seal Nancy’s case?
I laid the check next to Mad Dog’s plate and said, “Well, nice to see you again, Detective.”
I got as far as the exit and Mad Dog tapped me on the shoulder. “Wait up, will you? I don’t know what you thought you saw back there, but I was having myself a nice quiet lunch before the detective invited himself to sit down.”
The two empty plates on the table said he was lying, but I wasn’t going to get into that now, not when I had every intention of finding out who he was meeting in Fresno. “Pearlie asked me to invite you to supper tonight.”
I waited while he rubbed a hand across his face in a gesture that said he was feeling caught between a rock and a hard place. Good.
“If you have other plans… “ I said, pushing.
“I gotta be in Fresno today for—for a job interview for next season. I’d hate to have Pearlie hold up supper in case I’m late.”
I nodded agreeably. “Fresno’s only a couple of hours away. If you left now you could be back in time.”
“Yeah, sure, that’ll work. Might as well make a pit stop, all that ice tea I drank,” he said, turning back for the doors, probably to finish his conversation with the detective.
I got into the passenger side of the Mustang.
“You’ll never guess who he was having lunch with,” I said, telling her about the detective sitting in a booth with Mad Dog.
“What about his sick friend in Fresno?”
“This time it’s a job interview with another aero-ag company.”
“Liar!”
“He’s coming out again.” I pulled Pearlie down below the window.
Mad Dog hurried for his truck, pulling his keys out of his pocket, then fumbling the lock and dropping the keys on the ground, cursing. He was late, or flustered. But was it because I’d caught him with the detective, or because he was late for his meeting in Fresno? Whoever he was meeting, I knew it wasn’t for a job interview.
I told Pearlie to fire up the Mustang and to keep a couple of car lengths behind him.
She jerked the car into gear, flicked the turn signal for a left, and calmly waited for traffic to clear.
“What the hell’re you waiting for?”
“Oh, sorry. I guess I was thinking I was driving Granny. She always insists I do it by the book.”
“We’re going to have to cut out a few of those pages if we’re going to keep him in sight.”
&nbs
p; She grinned and floored it, and we were on our way.
We kept four cars between us and Mad Dog all the way to the freeway. Though Pearlie managed to keep out of his field of vision, I was still worried we’d lose him.
“Oh, relax, will you? I got him. Besides, he’s got that busted left taillight. There! He’s turning off. Is this the way to Fresno?”
“No, this is Merced,” I said, perplexed at the unexpected exit. “Slow down, Pearlie. It’s a small town and he’ll see us if we don’t stay back.”
Mad Dog slowed to the twenty-five mile an hour speed limit. Looking for an unfamiliar street? Then he sped up to the next block, tapped his brakes, and turned onto a side street. I told Pearlie to double back at the next light. When we turned onto the street, Pearlie slammed her fist on the wheel. “I knew it, we lost him!”
“No, we didn’t. Look, he’s parked and he’s getting out. Drive past and double back.”
This time when we passed by his truck, Mad Dog was walking up the steps to a renovated California cottage.
“That ain’t no hospital.”
“No, and we aren’t going to be ringing the doorbell, either. I will write down the address for later,” I said, pulling out a spiral notebook and jotting down the house number. I pointed to a muscular white Cadillac Escalade in front of the house next door. “Park here. He won’t see us hiding behind this SUV.”
Wire rims, low-profile tires, and extra-dark tint on the windows said the owner was either visiting from LA or he was the local doper.
With the engine off, Pearlie crossed her arms and sulked. “Now what?”
“Now we wait.”
“What do you think he’s doing in there? It’s gotta be a woman. There’s flowers and pots on her porch.”
“It could be he stopped by to visit his mother.”
“He told me his folks live in Iowa,” she said, reaching for the door. “I’m going to confront him. Right now. Get this over with once and for all.”
I reached out and grabbed her arm. “Don’t. This isn’t why I invited you to come.”
“What do you mean? We’re here to find out if Mad Dog is cheating on me.”
“Sorry, Pearlie, but this isn’t the reason why I came. If Mad Dog said he was going down to Fresno to visit a sick friend, it occurred to me that he might be here to check on the guy I shot at our house.”
“Why the hell would he wanna do that?”
“Because you said he never would’ve met the guy if he hadn’t taken that phone call.”
“Oh, no! You told Caleb, didn’t you? Mad Dog finds out, he’s gonna hate me!”
“Pearlie, Mad Dog is sticking to his story that he’d never met the guy before.”
“I mighta known you weren’t doing this for me,” she said, glaring.
Exasperated with my selfish cousin, I tried to reason with her. “Pearlie, we’re doing this to see if we can find Arthur’s killer.”
That snort of hers was beginning to irritate me.
A movement out the side mirror caught my eye and when I heard a motor start, I turned to look at the opaque windshield. Unable to see anyone, I shrugged and looked at my watch. “He’s been in there for a half-hour now.”
“I’m not waitin’ while he’s in bed with some woman. It’s too damn humiliatin’.” She put the car in gear and signaled her intent to leave.
“Wait. Look!” I pointed at Mad Dog already in his truck and heading back for the main street. “No, don’t pull out yet, we’ll wait for another car to go in front of us.”
As if on cue, the white SUV silently glided out from behind us. I nudged her to pull out and follow. “This is perfect, we’ll hide behind that big Escalade and Mad Dog won’t have any idea we’re following him.”
Soon all three of us, Mad Dog’s truck, the Escalade, and Pearlie’s red Mustang rental were taking the on-ramp for Hwy 99 south.
Chapter Eighteen:
We were a couple of cars back from the Escalade which, I noticed, managed to remain two cars behind Mad Dog. When he passed a semi and got back into the right lane, so did the Escalade.
“I got a bad feeling about this.”
“What’s eatin’ you, now?”
Pearlie’s barely controlled anger at what she saw as my personal betrayal was getting in the way, and I would have to find a way to make it up to her sometime today.
“That Escalade is following Mad Dog, same as us.”
“So what? Your imagination is just running away with the truth again.”
I ignored her bad mood and said, “If you can squeeze in between the semi and the Escalade I’ll get his license plate.”
Pearlie shrugged and grudgingly agreed, then wiggled her considerable bottom around on her seat and maneuvered into the space between the truck and the Escalade’s bumper, causing the truck behind to use his air brakes and horn
Then she turned on her left signal, looked over her shoulder, got into the middle lane, and let the trucker pass. He did, glaring down into the passenger side. Looking up, I saw his mouth move, and knew he was saying, “Dumb blondes!”
I smiled and waved.
Pearlie heaved a big sigh. “I hope you got the number on that license plate, ’cause I ain’t pulling a stunt like that again.”
“Yes, and that was some good driving, Pearlie. I couldn’t have done it better.” Never better since everyone knew I had more than my fair share of speeding tickets.
I took out my cell phone—who should I call? If I called Caleb, it would only raise his blood pressure before he reminded me to leave this investigation to the pros. I was still harboring a grudge for his terse comments at Burdell’s house. Like the poor man wouldn’t have been murdered if I hadn’t shown up. I couldn’t trust Detective Rodney, either. Information only went one way with him. No, the only person who was likely to be of help, the only person I could count on, was Marshal Jim Balthrop.
I scrolled through the numbers in my cell, found his, and after a five-minute explanation about how we were on a mission to see if Mad Dog was cheating on my cousin, he agreed to see what he could do about the license plate.
“How far away from Fresno are you?” he asked.
“About a half hour, why?”
“If you get in trouble, which may happen if that Escalade is any indication, I have a contact in Fresno who can help.”
“Thanks, Jim, but I’m not planning on getting in this guy’s way. I just came along for the ride because Pearlie wanted to find out if Mad Dog’s trip to Fresno is because he’s cheating on her.”
“You’re such a liar,” Pearlie grumbled.
Jim was quiet for so long, I thought he might’ve hung up.
“Gimme ten minutes,” he said. “This number?”
“Yeah, but….”
He’d hung up. Caleb would’ve got it sooner, but then I’d have a lecture to go with the help. Jim was picking up bad habits from Caleb.
Pearlie glared at me. “You should’ve asked him about that house in Merced. You ain’t helpin’ me at all!”
Not that I was interested in whether Mad Dog had stopped off to visit with some lady friend, but we did pick up that white Escalade there. “I’ll ask him when he calls back.”
“Good,” she said. “After draggin’ me all this way on false pretenses, it’s about time you did something right.”
Jim Balthrop called back as promised but the information wasn’t any help.
“Jim,” I said, “A seventy-five-year-old woman isn’t going to be driving a tricked-out Cadillac Escalade.” I listened to his next words and exploded. “Take over? How would your agent find us? Oh, but Jim—”
Pearlie butted in, “He wants us to quit tailin’ Mad Dog?”
I put a hand over the mouthpiece. “Just let me finish?” I went back to our conversation. “Look, Jim, I appreciate your concern, but we’re hanging back and like I said—”
Pearlie reached over and grabbed the phone out of my hand.
“Now you listen up, Marshal Balthrop.
This here expedition has nothing to do with any kind of crooks or killers. All we’re doing is following my boyfriend so’s I can find out if he’s been stringing me along, or not. What? No, this is not negotiable. Good-bye!” She closed my cell and stuck it between her thighs.
“Pearlie, he may be the only person we can count on to help us. Give me that,” I said, reaching for my cell.
She slapped my hand away. “He ain’t interested in helpin’ anyone but himself, and you ain’t getting’ this cell back, either. It’s contaminated.” She put down the driver’s side window and tossed the cell out, then plucked hers out of the center console, tossed it out after mine, hit the up button, and with a satisfied nod, put both hands back on the wheel.
I gawked and sputtered, “Have you lost your mind?”
“Don’t you watch any TV at all? They can triangulate our location from all those cell towers. That’s the way they find us.” She flicked her pink nails in the direction of said towers. “And I don’t plan on having any more interruptions until after I find out what that SOB is up to.”
I sat back against the seat. She had a point. We’d come all this way, hadn’t we? Cropdusters, aero-ag employees, barkeeps, they all talked when I asked questions, told me things they wouldn’t tell the police, and certainly hadn’t told Jim Balthrop. And who was to say that Jim’s agent friend would do any better at finding the truth? He might even mess it up, being a suit and all, scaring Mad Dog, who had to see by now he was being tailed by the Escalade. Yep, Pearlie was right, this job required the smarts and skills of not one blonde, but two.
The police, Jim Balthrop, and Caleb thought Pearlie and I were just a couple of dumb blondes. Well, we’d show them.
<><><><>
We were already coming up on the exits for Fresno when the semi we’d been following took the exit for Clovis.
That left us, the Escalade, and Mad Dog’s truck rolling along at the requisite sixty-five mile an hour speed limit. Then Mad Dog took an exit, and, as if leashed to his tail, the Escalade and Pearlie’s red Mustang.