I ran out my back door, detoured toward Grace’s property and hissed, “Addison alert, Addison alert,” slurring the words together so they held meaning only for Boffo. I knew he’d burrow under her fence and scurry through the varmint tunnel. I tossed a doggie treat near his escape hole in my yard. He blasted out, grabbed the treat and followed me to the front yard.
I charged toward the officer’s car screaming, “Help! Help! Somebody’s after me!”
The officer screeched on his brakes, bounded from the car and barreled toward me.
“He’s in the back. The perp is trying to get in the back,” I shrieked, wide-eyed. “Addison alert. Addison alert,” I mumbled.
The cop squinted, looking confused by my nonsensical words. Eyes wary, he yanked his pistol from the holster and streaked toward my house. Boffo charged after him, pounced on his shoe and growled up at him, expecting a treat. The cop tried to shake him off. “Damn dog.”
“Don’t shoot him. He’s my neighbor’s pet.” Grace and Elmore were enjoying breakfast at the Sunken Garden.
“I hope the suspect doesn’t escape through the front!” I’d left my front door wide open. “Addison Alert, Addison alert,” I chirped. The officer, staring at me like I was a lunatic, hobbled to my house, struggling to shake Boffo off his shoe while he tried to close my front door.
I’d wrapped green string around the furry toy that happily cohabitated with Addison and had hidden the end of the string in shrubs near my door. While the officer tried to dislodge Boffo, I swooped down, murmuring sympathetic words, and surreptitiously yanked the string. Intoxicated with new vermin smell, Boffo bounced away to attack the furry imposter. While the officer locked my door, keeping one eye on the growling terrier, I flailed my arms and flew around to bolster his view of my dementia, passing close to the front hedges to check my hidden bag while I kept the officer in view.
Racing back toward the house, I swept low, grabbed the twine attached to the stuffed rat and gave it a couple more yanks to stimulate Boffo’s aggressive behavior. Boffo growled so ferociously, the officer jumped six inches. Having secured my door, he was probably calculating whether the intruder would shoot him before Boffo attacked.
Having immobilized his prey, Boffo got bored. When the officer moved away from the door and sprinted around the side of the house, Boffo jumped to the challenge. He was back in the game. He charged after the cop and sprang onto his shoe. Clamping squatty legs around his captured vermin, he chomped his teeth into the cop’s pant leg.
“Aggh!” He should have brought doggie treats. Cursing and stumbling, the police officer lurched around the side of my house with Boffo attached. He was making so much noise, an intruder could have taken off for the next county.
Boffo made me proud. Growling viciously, he wasn’t about to relinquish his prey. He had mastered cage training and tunnel training and clung stubbornly to his captive. I thought he was ready for AKC’s official Earthdog Test.
I smiled at the satisfying sight of pooch attached to the officer’s leg, but I couldn’t hang around for the finale. I scrambled back to the front yard, dove into my bag, grabbed Grace’s frumpy oversized jacket and wrestled it over my head to cover my Garfield shirt. Crouching down, I wriggled the skirt Grace gave me up over the bottom of my nightshirt. Plastering the snood over my hair, I pushed stragglers inside and wrenched Aunt Justa’s homely wide-brimmed hat over the top.
When the Ford Taurus approached and slowed near the police vehicle, I was digging for Charlie’s boots. Clutching my bag with the boots still inside, I sprinted for the Ford and leaped in. Meredith stomped the gas pedal.
“Don’t screech the tires,” I yelled. “He’ll hear you.”
She backed off the pedal, drove thirty-four miles per hour to New Braunfels and turned right before either one of us exhaled.
Her black long-sleeved dress buttoned down the front to the calf-length hem. She wore thick hose and wide-heeled witchy shoes. A pillbox hat over a droopy black wig covered her light hair.
I started to laugh. “Where did you find that get-up?”
“I told Mom I was going to a costume party. She rummaged through my grandmother’s trunk.”
“I recognized your Taurus, but for a second after I jumped in, I thought I’d gotten in the wrong car.”
“You look absolutely awful,” she said. “Like a bag lady.”
“I know. Check these brogans.” I tugged on Charlie’s heavy boots. I hoped I wouldn’t have to run.
“They’re gross.”
“Did you get fake drivers’ licenses,” I asked, “in case the officer catches us? I’d hate for SAPD to find out who we are.”
“No, I couldn’t figure out how to pilfer licenses from senior citizens.”
“That’s okay. If another cop stops us before we make it to the club, you can say you left your license in another purse. He’ll give you a ticket, but when you take your actual driver’s license to court, you can say you were dressing for a costume party and forgot to put it in your purse. I’ll tell him I don’t drive. They really hate to pick on old people.”
She exploded with laughter. “Agatha, I am amazed at the extent of your devious mind.”
Frankly, I was, too. Sometimes you had to get creative. People put too much emphasis on aging. We’d outfoxed a young police officer, could probably outrun him and were having more fun than a couple of twelve-year-olds.
We made it to Fit and Firm and glided into a parking spot in the garage. Under our disguises, and under my Garfield sleep shirt, we wore workout clothes. My rolled-up leggings were killing me. We stripped down to T-shirts and rolled down our leggings. Underneath everything else, I had on a new swimsuit.
We pulled off the weird garb, dabbed on makeup and bustled toward the entrance. It was time to get serious. The frustrated officer had probably notified Sam, who would go to my house and tromp through every square inch of it to make sure I wasn’t there and hadn’t been abducted. Then he’d think about where I was and start fuming like a bull. I figured I had two hours, max, to confront the suspects before Sam showed up and spoiled everything.
Thirty-Five
When we approached the club’s entrance, I saw somebody had removed the sign advertising the club’s ten-year anniversary. In its place, they’d taped a sheet of paper to the glass door:
ATTENTION NEW AND RETURNING MEMBERS: Six Months FIT AND FIRM Memberships
Half-Price for the first 200 people who sign up.
Meredith looked pleased. When we stepped inside, a dozen people stood in line. Waiting around could ruin my scheme. Fortunately, an employee behind the check-in desk broke everyone into two lines, one for new members and one for returnees. Eleven people moved to the other line, leaving only one person ahead of us. The club had our paperwork on file, and we already possessed club ID cards. Registering for the discount wouldn’t take long.
While we waited, I peered across the lobby into Tofu Temptations Grill. The place opened for breakfast, but few people ate there. The room was empty except for one man who sat alone at a table studying the menu: Sheldon Snodgrass. If I could get past the grill without his seeing me, I could start exercising with Meredith, slip back downstairs before he left and corner him.
We checked in and registered for six month, half-price memberships.
“Isn’t this great?” I asked Meredith.
As we passed Tofu Temptations Grill, I edged to Meredith’s right side, putting her between Sheldon and me in case he glanced up. We climbed the steps to the third floor and picked two treadmills with the best view of the TV. I allowed time for us to program the machines and settle in before I announced I had to use the bathroom.
“Don’t go to the ladies’ locker room. Use the one on this floor.”
We could see the door to the restroom by turning partway around. “Good idea. I’ll wait until somebody else goes in so I won’t be in there alone.”
I knocked on the bathroom door, acted like I was talking to somebody inside, and entered.
I stayed a few minutes, peeped out to make sure Meredith was engrossed in TV and sneaked down the stairs.
Sheldon still inhabited the grill. I walked slowly over to him and smiled sweetly. “Hi, Sheldon.”
He lifted his fork and glared at me, eyes bulging. “What are you doing in this grill?” I heard a growl in his throat. “Did you decide to come ruin my breakfast?”
I didn’t like the menacing way he held his fork. “I just wanted to say hello. The last time I saw you was...unfortunate.”
“That’s an understatement. Did you decide to come destroy a public eating place, too?”
This was apt to get ugly. I tried not to focus on what he devoured.
“I came to apologize for the way I acted at your party...you know, when I got sick.” He growled again.
“I wanted to tell you the reporter from La Prensa told me later what a fabulous party you gave. You must have cleaned up quickly because she found the event awesome...the food...the people...everything!” His buggy eyes relaxed back into his head. He put his fork down.
Putting a finger to my lips, I rolled my eyes up. “Or was it the girl from Flash-News? Anyway, two different reporters raved to me about the party. Maybe they’ll both write it up.”
Sheldon licked his lips. “By the way, how are you feeling?”
“Better. Much better.” I hung my head. “Sometimes I get depressed about Holly.”
“Hmmm.” He stuffed a mystery clump in his mouth.
“What’s that you’re eating? It looks really good.”
“Soy and tofu pancakes drizzled with roasted honey,” he mumbled, chomping.
“You have unique taste in food.” Thank goodness I wasn’t nauseated.
He nodded and continued ruminating.
“I guess Holly loved to eat exotic things, too?”
“Not really. She went for ordinary protein and salad...totally without imagination.”
“After you dated her a while, surely you introduced her to some of the delicacies you love.”
“I tried, but she just wanted to dance and party. She loved to be in the middle of lots of people. The only reason she ate at all was so she could keep moving.”
“That must have disappointed you.”
“Well, I’ve dealt with a lot of carnivores. They eat the same disgusting animal products...never branch out. That’s why, in addition to vegetarian dishes, I highlight exotic meats for the misguided omnivores who attend my Euphoria parties.”
I tried not to think about the hog.
“Holly did seem sort of rigid, uptight, like maybe she needed tranquilizers.”
“I gave her some once so she’d relax, but she didn’t like the feeling they gave her. Pills didn’t change her eating habits, anyway.”
“Then I guess she didn’t use other drugs.”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t allow it.”
He apparently thought he’d controlled Holly. Temporarily.
“Why work out and eat healthy food,” he masticated half a pancake, “if you’re going to put junk in your body? I have two uncles who come over all the time, and I have to keep a whole stock of medicines for them. That’s bad enough.”
I molded my face into an image of sympathy. He concentrated on chewing.
“It’s good to see you,” I lied, backing away.
“Don’t forget to remind the reporters about my party.” He waved his fork with his mouth full of food.
I smiled encouragingly. He’d probably scour two publications for two months before he called the editors or confronted me.
He didn’t appear to be sufficiently emotionally involved with Holly to have a motive to kill her. Either that or he was an accomplished liar. He was definitely more interested in food than people—a real cold fish. Of course, he could be acting nonchalant and biding his time while he hated me to the depths of his purified colon.
Even if Sheldon had tried to kill me, I knew I was safe from him for a while. He had to preserve me as his media contact.
Thirty-Six
It was time to check in with Meredith. I ran upstairs to the treadmills.
“Where did you go?” she said. “I was getting worried.”
“My calves cramped, so I decided to find a police officer and tell him we’re here, then go to the weight room. Want to go?”
“I’ve only done twenty minutes on the treadmill. In twenty-five more minutes, I’ll do weights. Now that we’re actually here, we might as well do everything.”
“Okay. I’ll finish the weight room circuit. If my calf muscles un-kink, I’ll come back here and do cardio.” My strategy was working. Meredith was happily occupied, leaving me free to implement my plans. I hoped to find Ned Barclay and Pete Reeves in the weight room.
As I scooted down one side of the basketball court on my way to Machine Mecca, I passed Mickey Shannon leaning over the water fountain. His leg muscles bulged all the way to his gluteus maximus.
“Hi.” I made it a two-syllable word.
He straightened up, apparently surprised to see me. It looked like he started to scowl but produced a smile. Since he’d last seen me on a stretcher, and I’d weaseled out of his grasp a few days before that, he seemed confused about how to respond. Smiling provocatively, I batted my lashes.
“Sorry I was in such a rush the day you wanted to talk.” I gazed skyward as though I had a revelation. Then I peered at him, wide-eyed, “Do you ever do laps in the pool?”
His pupils enlarged. “Sure.” A grin spread across his face. “I’m going to do thirty minutes in Cardio Boot Camp, but we can swim after that.”
I moved closer and traced a finger over his bicep. He flexed. “You’re in great shape, Mickey. I’ll see you at the pool in forty minutes.” I turned to go and winked over my shoulder. I could practically hear him panting as I switched my body, not too fast, toward the weight room.
When I spotted Pete Reeves, he was helping a young blond operate a leg machine. His blue eyes were glued to her every move. I bet he didn’t make her lie down on the floor and clamp weights on the ends of her bar.
I saw Ned at the back of the room. He was working on the stomach crunch machine and appeared accessible. He saw me coming and gasped. With his feet slapped onto the platform and his torso crunched over the bar, it was hard for him to escape. I planted myself in front of him.
“Hi, Ned. I’m awfully sorry about what happened with the leg extension machine.”
He turned scarlet and did a dozen more crunches bobbing his head up and down, which made me dizzy but gave me the opportunity to talk. “I saw some beautiful pictures of you and Holly.”
He popped up, surprised, and stared needles at me. “My relationship with Holly is none of your concern.” He shifted out of the machine and walked to the angled, wide-grip pull down. He wrenched the bar down to his chest and started yanking the bar up and down so fast he made a human fan.
The pulley for working biceps was near him, so I picked up the handle, faced him and tugged it up to my chest. The faster he pulled his bar down, the faster I lifted my handle. It was a terrible stress on my puny muscles.
“Holly was my friend. She told me she cared for you, Ned. Very much.”
Suspicion and anger flashed across his face. “Why would she tell you that?” He released the wide grip pull down and strode to the seated bench press on the far side of the room. I scurried behind him, slipped onto the pectoralis fly next to him and scanned the instructions: “With arms at ninety-degree angles, touch elbows in front of chest.” I strained to push my elbows inward. Not much happened. Didn’t those yo-yos realize pectoral muscles were smothered by boobs?
While I puzzled the problems of anatomy, Ned dashed to the seated hamstring machine. I was afraid he was trying to complete the circuit and flee. Things were getting sticky. He might bolt before I could get anything out of him. I flew to the apparatus next to him, the leg extension machine. Realizing my colossal blunder, I zoomed to his other side, jumped on the back extension machine and assumed the p
reparatory position with my hands crossed demurely over my chest.
“Sarah Savoy told me you and Holly loved each other.”
Ned gritted his teeth. Blood vessels pulsed against his temples. “I thought we did.” He struggled to keep his voice low, grinding his words between clenched lips. “She was going to have my baby. That was my child Holly Holmgreen gave away!”
Ned had confirmed my suspicions. He was the father of Holly’s baby. She had lied about her child’s father denying paternity.
He pushed himself off the machine and stormed out of the room. He charged down the side of the basketball court. His shoulders shook with rage.
Thirty-Seven
I had needled Ned Barclay into a frenzy. I got zilch out of Sheldon, and it was time to meet Mickey. Swell. At least I hadn’t bumped into Harry Thorne, which was just as well since I wasn’t sure how to approach him. All I could do was forge ahead with the rest of my plan.
At least my timing looked good. Water aerobics had just ended. Sarah would return floater belts and water dumbbells to the equipment room. Mickey would be finishing Cardio Boot Camp, which would give me time to strip down to the swimsuit under my workout clothes.
I raced through the locker room to the storage room to catch Sarah. Sure enough, she was stacking water aerobics equipment on the racks and was about to lock up.
“Sarah, could you leave the room unlocked? Mickey and I want to work out in the pool. We might use a couple pieces of equipment. I’ll lock up when we leave.”
“Whoa.” Sarah had a huge grin on her pretty face. “Don’t get carried away and drown.” She winked impishly. “Want me to put a ‘Pool Closed’ sign inside the locker room door?”
Fit To Be Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 1) Page 20