Killer, Paper, Cut

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  "Aye, you better," said Brawny. I sensed a friction between them. Clancy didn't like being bossed around. Brawny thought of Clancy as a staff member and treated her accordingly. Of course, from what Brawny had told me and what I had read, people in the UK accepted the idea of class distinctions and their resultant hierarchy. After all, the Royal Family was simply born into their good fortune, and for the most part, that was unquestioned.

  Once Brawny left, Clancy pulled a stool up next to mine and got right in my face. "What on earth got into you? You could have died! There could have been serious repercussions for the baby. Kiki, you have to promise me to be more cautious. You have to put yourself first!"

  To my surprise, her eyes filled with tears.

  "Clancy, how could I have lived with myself if I didn't help Leighton? I didn’t have a choice. I'm all right. Really I am. The chance that my baby has been harmed is tiny. Too tiny to worry about, according to the doc. I was in and out of that garage pretty fast."

  "But you could have succumbed. You could have died!" and she threw her arms around my neck and started crying.

  Clancy only cries when she watches romantic movies. Not in real life. I held her and soothed her. "It's okay. Honest. See? I'm okay."

  Margit toddled up from the back room. "You scared us half to death, Kiki."

  Pretty soon, she was crying, too. Then I started.

  "Look, guys, we can't do this right now," I said, as I wiped my eyes. "We have customers coming in. Margit? Let's schedule a time to cry, okay? You're in charge."

  "Ja, but what are you crying about?" she asked in a huffy tone. "We almost lost you. You knew what you were doing!"

  "Yes, and either of you would have done the same. You know it. So don’t fuss at me, please." I sniffed and sat up straight. "As for what I have to cry about, well, plenty. Sheila just told me that Leighton will probably have to sell his house."

  "Yes," said Clancy, dabbing her eyes. "I heard that. It's all over the news. First he escapes with his life. Then he learns he's flat busted and no long has control over his own books."

  "Allein ist besser als mit Schlechten in Verein: mit Guten in Verein, ist besser als allein," said Margit. "It is better to be alone than in bad company. I understand how he wanted his daughter close by, but he was asking too much. At least, too much from her. She was not worthy and not able to return his affection."

  "Right, well, here I was all yippee-skippee happy that we didn't have to move. Now I wish we were moving, and he wasn't because I'm not sure what will happen to Monroe—and I hate the fact that lot will be divided up." I stopped and added, "Plus I feel awful for Leighton. I can't imagine the sense of betrayal he must be dealing with."

  "Speaking of disappointments on a minor scale, Faye Edorra came in for her check," said Clancy. "She was none too pleased that you hadn't signed it."

  "Argh," I said. "She has a right to be ticked off with me. I'll do it before I leave tonight, if you'll remind me. Any news about Laurel?"

  "Ja," said Margit. "She called to say that she was home and that she was thinking of all of us. I talked with her on the phone for a few minutes. She also told me to tell you that when she comes back she wants you to do a crop featuring a skinny cow?"

  Clancy and I busted out laughing.

  "You know," I said. "That's a great idea. We could all do pages of food that we love or our favorite snacks."

  "This is funny how?" Margit glared at us. She hates not being in on anything, so Clancy reached under my work table for the box of Skinny Cow bars that I keep as my personal stash.

  "Here," she said. as she tossed a bar toward Margit. "You're going to love this. I guarantee it. I bought two boxes."

  "Ach! A skinny cow!" marveled Margit. When she bit into the treat, she grinned at us. "Moo, moo, moo!"

  Chapter 78

  I'm not sure whether it's absolutely correct to call a Zentangle gathering a "crop." After all, we don't cut around photos. So I'm hereby coining a new term. From now on a Zentangle gathering will be a tangle-ation. See, it’s a combination of tangle and celebration. Pretty cool, huh? The name fits what we were doing. It was Amy Goodyear’s week to teach us a new tangle pattern called Scalez. Amy not only showed us a new tangle that she and I had worked up, but she also gave us a mini-tutorial on watercolor painting with salt lifts.

  "Because salt absorbs the water," she explained, "when you sprinkle rock salt over the watercolor, it acts like a blotter. It sucks up some of the color. You get this lovely mottled look to your paper."

  She also showed us the tangle she'd done with the watercolor background. Since our own watercolors would take time to dry, she'd very thoughtfully made sheets of watercolored paper for all of us to use as backgrounds to our tangles.

  "I am so glad I came," I said. "Just looking at this beautiful paper makes me feel calmer."

  "I agree," said Jennifer Moore. "This afternoon, I was thinking that I didn’t have the time to come and play, but now I'm realizing how much I needed this."

  At the opposite end of the table, the Gruesome Threesome—Mary Martha, Patricia, and Dolores—sat like human gargoyles, glaring at us.

  "This," said Mary Martha, "is nothing more than doodling!

  "No, it's not," said Amy Gill, the other Amy in this session. "When you doodle, you make aimless, random marks on the paper. Zentangle has specific patterns that are reproducible. Think of the tangles like vocabulary words. Here’s another difference: I can't teach you to doodle, but I can teach you to draw a tangle. Furthermore, once you learn the patterns, with their repetitive, deliberate strokes, you'll feel a tiny click happening in your head. Your body will shift from one mode of brain function to another. It's a lot like meditating."

  "Is that Christian?" Dolores sneered.

  "I can answer that," said a deep male voice. We all turned to see Father Joe. "I'm late, but I did call ahead and reserve my spot with Mrs. Whitehead."

  I tried to stand to welcome him, but he waved me back to my seat. "I've heard you've had a rough day."

  "Yes, but it’s better already. Glad you could make it." As I spoke, I glanced toward the end of the table. The three women from his church preened, touching their hair and fluttering their lashes. Mary Martha's cheeks pinked up, while a slow red stain began at Dolores's throat and moved north. Patricia looked as though she was on the brink of ecstasy.

  "Regarding your question, Dolores, the word 'meditate' appears fourteen times in the King James Version of the Bible. In Matthew, Jesus tells his followers to close the door and pray, while cautioning them not to babble words,'" Father Joe explained. "Meditation prepares for the trials and tribulations ahead."

  The attendees sat with jaws open and eyes wide as the young man spoke. As mesmerizing as his beauty was, his words were even more compelling. You read about charisma, and how certain people have it, but rarely do you see it in action. There was an aspect of divinity about Father Joe that kept all of us riveted.

  "Well," he clapped his hands. "I came here to learn a new skill. I apologize for being late. Where do I sit?"

  A few minutes before the break, Theresa George hopped up to heat the casserole she'd brought. The fragrance of her Chicken Tetrazzini caused our mouths to water. "

  "Wait until you see what we have for dessert," I told Father Joe. "Victoria Hrabe brought her Better Than Sex Cake."

  "There's something better than sex?" asked the priest. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world!"

  "I also brought a pan of my Cheesy Chicken and Dressing Casserole," said Victoria. "We always send Kiki home with leftovers. If we don't, she'd never get any dinner!"

  "Not since Brawny came to live with me," I said. "But she doesn’t fix my lunches, so bring it on!"

  Chapter 79

  By the time Brawny came and picked me up at the end of the evening, I was exhausted. I asked her how if Lorraine Lauber had made it in and how she was.

  "Miss Lorraine was very tired when I picked her up from the airport," said Brawny. "She asked t
hat I take her straight to her hotel. I know Detective Detweiler was looking forward to greeting her, and she wanted to see Erik, but you can understand that she has to be careful with her energy. She was very pleased with her accommodations, especially because she has her new canine security companion with her. A Giant Schnauzer named Paolo."

  "Good," I said. "I’m glad she has the guard dog. We can all breathe a little easier about her safety, right?"

  "Aye," said Brawny. "Although he's still young and she’ll need to work with him. They’ll send a trainer to her home to help her learn how to shape his behavior. He’s already very, very well-trained, as you might imagine. A handsome lad."

  "So why is there more training involved?"

  "They need to work together as a team. But he's whip smart. Doesn't shed either, which is a blessing because I think Miss Lorraine might just wear black the rest of her life."

  "She really loved her brother, didn't she?"

  "Aye, she did. They got along so well. That's why she was so accepting of Miss Gina. Whatever made Mr. Lauber happy was fine by Miss Lorraine. The three of them enjoyed their times together. They liked each other’s company. Sort of like the Three Musketeers."

  I smiled, thinking how my sisters and I also appreciated that iconic reference.

  Brawny continued, "It was a near thing that Miss Lorraine wasn't in the car when Mr. Lauber went off the road."

  "Do you think he was murdered?" I said. This was the first chance the two of us had had to discuss the matter privately.

  "I think it's very possible," she said, that soft burr turning "very" into "verra." "We all have a sixth sense, a gift from our Maker, and it warns us when a person's a bajin."

  "A bajin?"

  "A bad one." She sighed. "Mr. Thornton saved Mr. Lauber's life when they were young. The mister was always one to be thankful, but I think he went too far. Mr. Thornton has a black heart. He’s a bajin. I wouldna put nothing past him."

  By the time we got home, the kids were already asleep since this was a school night. I felt bad that I hadn't spent time with them, especially since they probably needed reassurance that I was okay. Detweiler insisted that I, "Go straight to bed, do not pass Go, and do not Collect $200."

  "Why would Miss Kiki need to collect money for going to bed?" Brawny raised her eyebrows.

  Detweiler and I both laughed and told her we'd teach her all about Monopoly come Sunday.

  After Detweiler closed the door, and we were alone in our bedroom, I sat down on the bed and asked, "What about Sunday? Can we continue to live here? And for how long?"

  "I don't know," he said, while rubbing his chin. "I plan to talk to Leighton tomorrow. He's due to be released from the hospital, but we need to take his statement at the station. The social worker has already filled out the forms alleging Elder Abuse, and we have more than enough for that. I'm worried he won't help us prosecute Melissa. Of course we have your testimony and mine, plus what the EMTs discovered when they arrived, but Leighton might back down and refuse to testify against her."

  "I'm not sure I could testify against one of my own kids," I said. "Of course, I can't imagine one of ours trying to hurt me."

  "That's true," said Detweiler, as he sank down onto the bed beside me. "Much less deprive us of the money we rightly earned."

  "So you've heard about him losing the rights to his books." I sank down onto my side. I was so tired I could barely hold my head up.

  "Yes. That really stinks, doesn't it?"

  "Sheila called me to tell me," I said. I could hear that I was slurring my words. "She thinks he'll have to sell this house and the big one. Where will Monroe go?"

  Detweiler rolled onto his side and pulled me close. He kissed me gently. "Trust you to worry about the donkey."

  "Well," I said. "The donkey is the only one of us who's flat out of options."

  He laughed softly. "Don't worry. My parents will take Monroe if it comes to that."

  "I hadn't thought of that," I said. The relief flooded through me.

  "No, I bet you didn't. You were too busy worrying to think about the family farm," said Detweiler, nuzzling me with that beard of his. "Next to scrapbooking and doing your tangles, worrying is your favorite hobby."

  "Nope," I said, looking at him and smiling. "I have another favorite hobby. Want to see what it is?"

  Chapter 80

  The next morning both kids were full of themselves. Erik hugged me and said, "You're okay? Right?" and I told him I was. It dawned on me then that this little guy had more reason to worry than most. I gave him a big hug and patted his back, marveling at how small those shoulder blades were. My little man. He would grow up so quickly.

  While Brawny buckled him into his car seat, Anya leaned close. "Erik was scared, Mom. He climbed into my bed last night. I guess after what happened to his mother, he has a right to be."

  Putting one hand on each side of her face, I directed her gaze. "You are being such a wonderful big sister. I'm so proud of you. Thank you, sweetheart."

  She smiled and said, "So I get to keep my job as oldest sibling?"

  "You betcha," I said.

  Detweiler protested loud and long when I said that I wanted to drive myself to work. Finally, I decided to let him do the driving.

  "Let's see," I said, putting a finger to my lips. "First I get a nanny, and now a chauffeur. I'm well on my way to becoming a lady of leisure."

  He laughed at that. Gracie stuck her head between the seats and licked his shoulder.

  Since we had a little time before our work days started, and so little alone time, he drove to the nearest Kaldi's. While he was getting us both a latte (mine would be decaf) and a pastry, my cell phone buzzed.

  Will you PLEASE sign my check? This is ridiculous! was the text message from Faye Edorra.

  Yes, sorry. I sent the message back, clicking on her email address. When I did, I noticed the suffix.

  As Detweiler climbed back into the Crown Vic, I asked, "What does 'edu' mean as a suffix on an email address?"

  "That the address is processed by a server at an educational institution," he said. "Why?"

  I shrugged and gave myself over to the joys of coffee, butter, and sugar. "Just wondering. Faye just sent me an email and that was on the tail end of it."

  "Who is she?" asked Detweiler.

  I explained that she had been our ghostly guide during the Halloween party.

  "Any word on the situation with Laurel?" I asked. "I figured you'd keep your ear to the ground."

  "When I talked with Father Joe, I suggested that he visit the local police and remind them of the many acts of vandalism."

  "And?" I asked.

  "He called me last night on his way to your event to tell me that he'd done exactly that. They promised to look into the matter." He sighed. "Unfortunately, that's the best he can do, and my hands are tied as well."

  With a mouthful of scone, I changed the subject. "When are you going to interview Leighton?"

  "He and an attorney are coming in this afternoon."

  "Does the presence of an attorney mean that he won't answer any of your questions?" I nibbled the edges of my treat. I was trying to show restraint. Not that I have much of that. I dove into our Better Than Sex dessert last night as if I were personally gearing up for the Last Supper. Oh, boy, was that ever good!

  "It might." Detweiler smiled at me. "Don't go getting your hopes up about staying in the house, okay? I talked with Hadcho and Robbie last night. Melissa really took her father to the cleaners. Leighton will be lucky if he gets to keep the shirt on his back. Of course, there are limits to what can be put on your charge card without a proper signature, and all that, but situations like this take a while to untangle."

  "Did you feed and water Monroe this morning?" I asked.

  "What do you take me for? A farmhand?" and he laughed. "Of course I did. I told Anya that she has to take over on the weekends."

  "Good," I said. "Oops. That reminds me. She was supposed to go to the Moores
' house tonight for a sleepover. I'll have to tell Jennifer that she doesn't need to keep Anya all weekend. That might mean that you'll be mucking out the stall tomorrow morning. A night with her friend Nicci will be good for Anya."

  "She asked me to cancel her sleepover," said Detweiler. "She is worried about Erik. He's been pretty clingy."

  "Wow," I said. "Do you think she'll always be this loving of an older sister?"

  "Are you asking if they'll never fight?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "Because that would be abnormal, wouldn't it? I think I'd choose normal sibling spats over abnormal any day."

  I told him what Brawny told me about the Laubers.

  "That confirms everything I've seen and heard from Lorraine," said Detweiler. "I can't imagine losing one of my sisters. I'm glad for you that Catherine has come home. How's she working out at the store?"

  "Really well. I have to admit that I was sort of looking forward to living in the same house with her once again. Mom is really mean to her, and she deserves better," I said.

  "Maybe we should send Brawny over to do another therapy session."

  "Maybe."

  Chapter 81

  Gracie was not happy about saying goodbye to the love of her life. She adores Detweiler, and I'm a distant second in her affections.

  "Come on, girl," said the cop, as he tugged on her leash. "You’re going into the store, like always."

  "She seems to have a firm opinion about leaving your car, and the answer is no," I said, as I watched him struggle with her. The black and white monster finally gave in to Detweiler's urgings. Margit greeted us at the back door. She gets this wistful smile on her face when Detweiler’s around. He's taken to giving her a peck on the cheek, and by golly, she turns red as a tomato.

  After greeting Margit and handing the leash to me, Detweiler gave me a kiss. A real kiss, not a peck. "I'll let you know what I learn when I talk to Leighton. About the house, that is."