Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 02 - Inn the Doghouse

by Heather Horrocks

  I looked at her in amazement. “I didn’t notice you outside. How did you see everything?”

  “I have binoculars, and I know how to use them,” Agnes said with an emphatic tip of her head. “From my upstairs bedroom window I can see all sorts of things.”

  “Really?” I said.

  “And you wouldn’t believe everything I saw on the day before your husband was shot.”

  Liz and I exchanged glances. Did we want to know? It didn’t matter, because Agnes continued, a steamroller in a flowered dress. “First that young girl was here. The pregnant one.” She pursed her lips in disapproval. “I am sorry, Liz.”

  “He brought her here?” Liz hissed. “To my house?”

  “She wasn’t here long enough for anything to go on, if you know what I mean. And that’s the only time I saw her here. That happened somewhere else.”

  Liz’s eyes brimmed with tears she blinked back furiously.

  “And then, while the girl was still here, an old man drove up. I could hear him yelling at Gene on the porch. Then they shoved each other a few times, and the old man fell down. Then the young girl drove off with the old man.”

  “Who was the old guy?” I asked, guessing he must be Herbert Norris, the retired postal worker. “And was he related to the girl?”

  “I see everything, but I don’t know everyone. I hadn’t ever seen him before.” Agnes motioned with her hands in the shape of binoculars in front of her face. “But that wasn’t half of it. Then another man, a younger man, drove up and he had a yelling match with Gene, too. I opened my window, but it was on the porch, so I didn’t hear any of it.” She sounded disappointed. “And he punched Gene before he stormed off.”

  “So that’s why Gene had a black eye,” Liz said sadly.

  “And then a young kid, I think he said his name was Colt or Colton, or something like that, asked about the pregnant girl. And then he pushed Gene, and Gene went inside the house, and the kid stayed outside for a long time before he drove off.”

  Amazed, I stared at my sister, who shook her head and said, “What was Gene mixed up in, anyway?”

  “Nothing good,” Agnes said.

  I was glad my sister had a nosy neighbor so Liz could learn what was going on.

  I shook my head and echoed. “Nothing good.”

  ~ ~ ~

  As soon as we walked into the crowd of lunch diners at the Moose Muffin Café, we spotted DeWayne, sitting by himself at a booth along the side wall. That was good, because every other booth and table were taken. Even the seats at the coveted Round Table were filled with denim jean and coverall-wearing, middle-aged and older men, most of them sporting ample bellies. They talked gravely amongst themselves and ate just as seriously.

  Evelyn Deeds and Yolanda Butterfield were busy working their way between the tables, and taking turns at the cashier spot. I knew because I’d often worked with them. There should have been two more waitresses here at lunch time, but I didn’t see them yet. They must have been in the kitchen.

  “Hey, DeWayne,” I called out and waved.

  He looked up and smiled. “Hey, ladies.”

  “Mind if we join you?” Liz asked as she slipped in next to DeWayne. He looked a little uncomfortable, which was a strange reaction for him when Liz was around.

  After a delay, he said, “Sure.”

  I sat down across from them and studied him. Something was up, but what?

  Evelyn moved from her area and came over to our booth. “How are you ladies today?”

  We told her we were fine and asked about her family. Then she asked, “What can I have Crystal bring you to drink?”

  “Crystal?” I was surprised. “I thought she just worked evenings.”

  Evelyn leaned in closer, batted her eyelashes dramatically at DeWayne, and said in a near whisper, “Oh, she switched her shifts. She knows what time ‘A Certain Somebody’ comes in.”

  DeWayne’s face reddened and he nearly sputtered.

  Liz glowered. “Is that so?”

  The man shrugged, trying—but failing—for nonchalance. “Evelyn’s got it wrong. Crystal is just a friend.”

  “Just a friend.” I turned to Evelyn. “You know what’s funny? Robert and I were just friends for a long time and you know where it got us.”

  “I know.” Evelyn straightened. “I’ve got to get back to work. You might have noticed how busy we are today.”

  As Evelyn walked away, DeWayne sighed and looked at me. “I bet you miss Robert.”

  “No wonder you’re a police officer,” Liz said cattily. “You’re so freaking observant.”

  “Play nice,” I cautioned her, “or I’ll order you a bowl of milk.”

  DeWayne said, “That’s okay, Vicki. I know Liz is upset because of Gene’s death.”

  That shut her up. Liz sighed and looked away. He knew my sister well.

  The door opened and my friend, Stephanie Bowcutt, came in. She saw me wave and headed for our booth. “Care if I join you?”

  “The more the merrier.” I smiled cheerfully at DeWayne. “Don’t you think, DeWayne?”

  He snorted. “What guy wouldn’t be happy with three women? If I was a polygamist, I could have this many women sitting at my table all the time.”

  We three women groaned. Liz said, “You wish.”

  “Yeah, I do wish, actually.” DeWayne grinned.

  Crystal headed toward our table. She was dressed more conservatively in jeans and a pink T-shirt emblazoned with Moose Muffin Café—The best food in the universe.

  I said, “Maybe even four women at your table.”

  Now it was his turn to groan. “Okay. Forget it. I don’t want to be a polygamist. It would be a major expense just to go out to lunch.”

  We laughed.

  Crystal came to our table with three glasses of water. She went back for a fourth and set it in front of Stephanie before pulling out a notepad and pen. “Hi, guys. What can I get for you today?”

  But the only guy she was looking at was DeWayne. She smiled at him. He smiled back. Liz frowned. I looked between the three of them and exchanged a glance with Stephanie.

  “I’d like a milkshake,” Liz said. “Light chocolate, extra thick.”

  Crystal actually pried her gaze from A Certain Somebody. “Sure. Anything to eat with that?”

  “Maybe an appetizer for all of us. Chips and salsa.” Liz’s polite words were uttered icily.

  I knew Liz was hiding her feelings—right now a jumbled mess of feelings for Gene and old feelings for DeWayne and Gene’s infidelity and his death—behind the iciness, but Crystal didn’t have to take the brunt of it.

  I smiled at Crystal, trying to lessen the impact of Liz’s arctic words. “I’ll have the chicken salad.”

  She smiled at me. “Okay.”

  Stephanie said, “I came in for a burger and fries.”

  “Burger and fries,” Crystal repeated, turning back to DeWayne. When she looked at him, her entire face lit up.

  DeWayne, face still red, said, “Make it my usual, Crystal.”

  “Sure thing, sugar. Chicken fried steak coming up.” She leaned in closer. “I got my daddy to talk to the guys at the Round Table. I think you’re going to get an invitation to sit there soon.”

  DeWayne’s eyes widened, but he leaned back quickly. “I appreciate that offer, Crystal, but I can’t sit at the Round Table.”

  “Oh?” Crystal looked disappointed. “Why not?”

  “Wow,” Liz said, “Paul will string you up for sitting there before him.”

  Crystal looked confused, so I explained. “Paul’s life’s purpose is to sit there.”

  “Oh.” Crystal smiled. “Maybe I can get Daddy to talk to the men for him, too.”

  “Glad you have so much influence in this town,” Liz said snarkily.

  Crystal looked at her with visible hurt in her eyes.

  I kicked Liz’s leg under the table, and she jumped and glared at me. I smiled nicely. “I think it’s sweet of Crystal.”

>   Liz leaned close to DeWayne and slipped her arm through his. “It is sweet of you, Crystal, being so nice to our big, brave DeWayne.”

  Crystal frowned. “I’ll bring your appetizer,” she muttered before taking off.

  DeWayne said, “You don’t have to be mean to her, Liz.”

  “She’s so phony nice.”

  “I think she genuinely likes DeWayne,” I said.

  “Yes, but I don’t think she likes us or Paul.”

  DeWayne said, “What’s not to like?”

  Stephanie nodded. “Are you the evil twin today, Liz?”

  Liz just smiled serenely and took a sip of water.

  I shook my head and changed the subject. “DeWayne, did you guys ever check into Jeff Eklund’s alibi? That waitress at the café in Heber?”

  He nodded. “She’s on vacation for two weeks and we haven’t been able to reach her yet. She didn’t take her cell phone with her as she wanted to get away from life. So he doesn’t have an alibi until she returns.”

  “If she returns,” I said ominously.

  “And if she backs up his story,” Liz said, pulling her arm free of DeWayne’s and patting his arm. “I think maybe he’s the guy who killed Gene.”

  “Have the police spoken with the nosy neighbor?” I asked.

  DeWayne nodded. “We’ve been checking out everything she said, too. And we’ll know soon enough on Jeff’s alibi.” He looked down at Liz, and then over at Crystal, who set down our chips and salsa and smiled at DeWayne again before going to another table to take orders.

  I thought David might be right. DeWayne lived with unrequited love for so long, he’d become easy pickings for any gal who was head over heels in love with him.

  Stephanie and I exchanged glances again. I didn’t need ESP to know she was thinking the same thing.

  ~ ~ ~

  As we left the café and climbed into my Jeep, Liz said, “Why don’t we go back to the nursing home and see if Gene’s mother is more lucid today?”

  I turned on the defrost as the temperature had dipped below freezing and the windows had fogged over while we were in the café. Slowly, a small circle of clear windshield appeared and grew larger until I could see the road.

  “You haven’t had enough drama already today? Confronting your brother-in-law and then Crystal didn’t satisfy the fix you have for trouble?”

  “Shut up and head toward Park City,” Liz said, looking out the window.

  “Got it. More drama coming up.” I nodded and turned toward the highway into Park City.

  “There won’t be any more drama today,” she said. “Who else is there to fight with? I’ve had it out with everyone over the last few days.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  Liz sighed. “You say it gets better after the funeral?”

  “A little. And a lot more after a year or two.”

  “But will I stop crying soon? I can’t deal with all this emotion.”

  What could I tell her? “I cried for months, but stopped crying in public within a few weeks. However, I didn’t have the conflicted feelings you do, what with divorcing Gene and all. You were in a bad marriage.”

  She was silent during the fifteen-minute drive to Park City’s Golden Hills Residential Living Center, until I parked. Then Liz shook her head. “I hope we never get Alzheimer’s.”

  “If we do, maybe we’ll look at each other and think we’re just looking in a mirror.”

  She snorted and tried to not laugh, but started anyway and couldn’t stop. I joined her for a few minutes.

  Finally, Liz said, “You’re really silly. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “Things were becoming entirely too serious.”

  She shook her head, still snickering, and said, “Let’s do this.”

  I followed her, chilled by the short walk from the parking lot and glad for the warmth inside the building. We checked in at the main desk, where the nurse recognized us from the day before. She informed us that Gene’s mother had a visitor already, but we could still see her.

  So we did. Together, we walked down the same plush carpeting and wide hallway, seeing the same medical personnel, and smelling the same antiseptic, hospital scent.

  The door to the room was open and what we saw made us stop in tandem.

  Gene’s mother sat in her bed, wearing a different robe, and a pregnant teenager—the teenager pregnant with Gene’s baby—sat in the chair next to her. She was talking a mile a minute and Gene’s mother was looking at her and smiling.

  Liz made a choking sound and started forward. I grabbed for her arm.

  She slipped free and demanded, “What are you doing here?”

  The pregnant girl stood and put up her hands. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  When she caught sight of me, she looked between us for a moment.

  Liz picked up speed and I had to run to grab her, practically tackling her, before she could take down the young girl. I spun my sister around and hissed, “You can’t do this. I don’t want you going to jail.”

  “Let me go. I can take her.” She turned, but I clung onto her arm. As she tried to push me away, she said, “You have no right to be here, you little slut.”

  “I do have a right to be here. This is my baby’s—”

  “Don’t you dare say it!”

  A nurse poked her head into the room. “What is going on? You’re going to disturb Mrs. Eklund.”

  “Nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “We were just leaving.”

  Liz pulled herself together with obvious effort and finally told me, “I’m okay. Let go of me.”

  We walked back out, Liz still shaking with anger, but thankfully, silent. As we left the building, her tears began in earnest. By the time we climbed into the Jeep, she said, “I can’t take this.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  “What was wrong with Gene to make him want a babe in the cradle and then get her pregnant? I tried for two years and couldn’t get pregnant. We were going to start working with an infertility doctor. Why wasn’t he man enough to wait it out with me?”

  I put my arm around my sister. If Gene were here in front of me, I would have thrown another rock. How could he have hurt Liz so much?

  I pulled away from the main building, and parked in front of the Chevron station next door. It might take awhile to get her calmed down enough that I could drive back home, and I didn’t want the pregnant girl walking outside and provoking Liz all over again.

  The last thing she needed right now was an assault charge.

  Finally, she used all the tissues and fast food napkins I had so I went inside and bought a couple of bottles of water and snagged more napkins.

  When I climbed back into the car, I said, softly, “Is this you not having any more drama? Because you’re really bad at it.”

  She took the napkins. “Thanks for not letting me assault her.”

  “I was serious. The last thing I want to see is you in jail.”

  When her cell phone rang, we both stared at it. “It’s Paul,” she said.

  “Answer it.”

  She did. And when she hung up a few minutes later, she said, “Gene’s body is being released. Paul called Chad Hullinger for me, and we can schedule the funeral as early as Wednesday.”

  “That’s as good a day as any.”

  “It will be good to get it behind me. But four days doesn’t give me much time.”

  “There’s never much time to plan a funeral. Everything’s handled already.”

  I grew a little melancholy when I remembered that I didn’t have a chance to leave the flowers on Robert’s grave last week, because when I saw Gene’s body, I dropped them on someone else’s grave. But I chose not to say any of that because I didn’t want to make her sad all over again. It was a positive sign that she was trying to pull herself together.

  “I need a good laugh. Tell me a good joke.”

  “Okay. Knock, knock.”

  “I said a good joke.” S
he rolled her eyes, but said, “Who’s there?”

  “DeWayne.”

  “Okay. DeWayne who?”

  “DeWayne the bathtub; I’m dwowning.”

  “I am drowning,” she said, turning to look through the windshield.

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I kept quiet and drove.

  Chapter Nine

  Wednesday, November 9 ~ Day of the Funeral

  THE NEXT THREE DAYS PASSED in a blur. The mortuary picked up Gene’s body late Saturday, after Paul’s call. On Sunday, my parents got back into town, and my mother oversaw the arrangements made by her counselors for the funeral luncheon services. Today, Wednesday, Kent and Cielo were on duty at the Inn so I could attend the funeral and luncheon afterward.

  The morning of Gene’s funeral was eerily like the day of Robert’s funeral—and yet not at all the same. Robert’s family was middle class and down to earth. Gene’s was high class and wealthy. His sister and other female relatives dressed in black sheath dresses and the Jimmy Choo shoes I’d read about, but never actually seen until I met Janice, Gene’s only sister. Second-born Jeff was there, as well as John, the youngest brother. Janice was the baby of the family.

  Their mother was not there, but safe in the nursing home, oblivious to the death of her oldest son. Jeff finally listened to the voice of reason provided by our mother, who called to ask him to please leave his mother inside on this chilly day. I was thankful she wasn’t there. I was also glad to see the pregnant girl stayed away.

  The room was full of flowers. Even my cousin, Manny Much, sent an expensive spray.

  Zach stayed close to me during the viewing. He had seen a casket before, during his father’s funeral. This casket was closed for obvious reasons. But I knew my son was upset and I spent some extra time talking to and comforting him.

  Liz stood beside the casket, along with Jeff, John, and Janice.

  Shortly before the funeral was supposed to start, the funeral director announced it was time for the family only.

  Usually, this would be the closing of the casket, but that step was left out of this particular funeral. Today, we would go straight to the family prayer.