“That sounds about right,” Diddy said, her eyes glazed.
“Trixie should be home by three-fifteen at the latest. I hope she gets in touch with us before the police come to call,” Dodo said ominously. “If Fred starts out as soon as Trixie gets home, he should be at the inn by five-thirty. You should see that dog! He is ferocious, and he’s so big he’s scary. His teeth look like shark’s teeth.” Dodo leaned back, exhausted from her monologue.
“Shut up, Dodo,” Ducky snarled. “Let’s just sit here and wait for the police. We need to practice looking stunned when they tell us Marcus disappeared. They’ll have to tell us Marcus is gone, so we want to look shocked. Then we have to look angry and puzzled as to why they’re questioning us. Diddy—are you even listening to me?” Ducky asked.
“Yes. I thought you wanted us to shut up.” Diddy clamped her lips tight, her thoughts on the cargo in the rusty old truck heading toward Rayne.
Trixie heaved a mighty sigh of relief when she turned off the highway and onto the deeply rutted road that led to her sixty-five-acre farm. She really had to get after Fred to get the mile-and-a-half-long driveway paved. She knew she wouldn’t do any such thing because Fred wouldn’t do it, saying that he was leaving the road as is to discourage unwanted visitors. She swerved to avoid a particularly deep rut and tried to slow the truck at the same time. She heard the tailgate go down, heard Flash’s shrill bark as he suddenly streaked alongside of her. Where the hell was Marcus and the wheelbarrow. She saw him a moment later whizzing past the pickup that was now stalled in one of the ruts. She could see Flash was having a hard time keeping up with the battery-operated vehicle. Damn, the start button on the wheelbarrow must have jarred loose when it sailed out of the truck.
Trixie did what she always did in a time of crisis. She bellowed at the top of her lungs for Fred. She closed her eyes to avoid looking at Marcus’s flapping arms and feet as the wheelbarrow careened down the bumpy road, Flash trying to stop it.God, what if Marcus falls out and dies?
Trixie turned on the ignition, cursing under her breath as she backed up again and again, then managed to move the old truck forward. She gunned the engine and roared down the road in time to see Flash finally catching up with the wheelbarrow. She watched in amazement as the big dog tried to slap at theON/OFF switch. Trixie wanted to cry when the wheelbarrow came to a stop about a hundred feet from where Fred was standing. He looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head.
Trixie stopped the truck. She ran to Flash to praise him. Marcus was shaking. With laughter. “What’d he say? How are you, dear?” she said to Fred as though this was an everyday occurrence.
“I think he wants to know what you do for an encore. What the hell happened, Sweet Cheeks?”
“We need to fix that damn road, Fred. I hit a big hole, the tailgate came down, and out he went. That contraption is battery-operated. I want one. Marcus is all right, isn’t he?” She hated how anxious her voice sounded.
Fred McGuire looked like a modern version of Santa Claus, with his snow-white hair, white beard, wire-rimmed glasses, and round belly. He leaned over. “You okay, Marcus? Welcome to McGuire Farm. Good to see you again. You wanna get out of that contraption?”
“I want a drink,” Marcus mumbled, as Fred helped him out of the wheelbarrow. Fred looked at Trixie to see if a drink was in order. She nodded. “Make me one, too, sweetie. A stiff one. I want a cigarette, also. Never mind, I’ll get it. Just help me get him into the house. You need to get started for Baton Rouge. Ah, Fred, I don’t think there’s any need to…ah, tell anyone about our little mishap. All’s well that ends well.”
Fred grinned. “I hear you, Sweet Cheeks. Are you sure that jalopy is going to make it all the way to Baton Rouge?”
“It got me here. You better buy some gas. I gotta tell you, the springs are shot. It’s a real kidney crusher. Did you call the doctor?”
“I did. He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. I guess I’ll see you when I see you. Nice to see you again, Marcus.”
When the door closed behind her husband, Trixie settled her guest in the kitchen rocking chair. She knew she was twitching all over the place. If anyone needed a drink, it was her. She slopped Kentucky bourbon into two glasses and handed one to Marcus. Flash licked up the excess. Trixie finished her drink with one gulp and poured a second. “Bottoms up, Marcus!”
Using both hands, Marcus was able to bring the glass to his lips. He imitated Trixie, then held out his glass for a refill. Trixie obliged. “Now if I can just find a cigarette, we’re in business. I quit. Fred quit. Then Fred started up when we retired, so I did, too. Then we started to train the dogs, and we quit again. Technically, we are off cigarettes,” Trixie said, rummaging frantically in the kitchen drawers. She finally found a crumpled package of cigarettes and lit one up. Marcus held up his hand, indicating he wanted one.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Marcus.” When he said “please,” Trixie capitulated. “Okay, but no more. Just one. Fred will kill us both if he finds out. So will the doctor who’s coming to check you over. Hurry up and puff,” she said in a jittery voice. She puffed furiously, not even enjoying the cigarette. She watched Marcus, who blew a perfect smoke ring, then gave her a lopsided smile.
“Safe here?”
“Absolutely. Flash will guard you with his life. Seriously, we have it under control, Marcus. I don’t want you to worry. Just cooperate with the doctor, and we’ll take it from there.”
Another perfect smoke ring sailed upward.
Trixie turned away so that she was facing the door, Flash at her side. He pawed her leg. It was time to take off his working gear. Trixie bent over to undo the straps of his bulletproof vest. The huge dog licked her hand before he trotted back to the man in the rocking chair. He whined in pleasure when the man’s hand dropped down to stroke his big head.
“I forgot to put the wheelbarrow back in the truck,” she muttered. “How could I have forgotten to do that? I hear a car. It must be Elmo.” She turned around. “Elmo is retired now, but he stays up on what’s going on. In the world of medicine,” she clarified. “He’s bringing his wife, who’s also his assistant. He has a little clinic in his old offices, so they’ll run some blood tests. That means they have to draw blood from you. Are you okay with all this, Marcus?” Marcus’s head bobbed up and down. He looked tired.
“You aren’t getting out of here until you answer a lot of questions, Marcus. Just so you know. I wonder if that dear, sweet, charming wife of yours reported you missing yet. I guess we should turn on the TV to check that out. I gotta tell you, Marcus, this was one of the most exciting snatches I’ve ever participated in. Fred and I really have to do one more book.” She was dithering with apprehension as she stared at the small television on the counter. She jerked upright when she saw a banner running across the screen. A young woman who looked like she was sculpted from glass said, “This just in to our newsroom. Mrs. Bella Gunn, wife of Marcus Gunn of Baton Rouge, reported her invalid husband missing at one-thirty this afternoon. Mr. Gunn, in the company of his nurse, was having lunch outdoors in the garden, when he disappeared. At this time, we don’t know if the nurse is missing or not. Our details are sketchy. It seems that Mr. Gunn either walked away or was taken away, because his wheelchair was left behind.”
The lacquered, sculpted newswoman then proceeded to talk about Marcus and the good deeds he’d done during his lifetime. An old picture of Marcus in a three-piece suit shaking hands with the then-governor of Louisiana flashed on the screen. She finished up her segment by asking anyone with information as to Marcus Gunn’s whereabouts to call the number listed on the screen. It was at that precise moment that Elmo Odam creaked into the room, followed by his wife, Tildy.
Trixie drew a deep breath as the retired doctor homed in on the picture of Marcus flashing on the screen. He looked over at Marcus, who held up his thumb, a sign that he was amused by what he was seeing.
“I assume you and Fred are coming out of retiremen
t and are contemplating a new novel and what I’m seeing here is hands-on research. I’m honored, Trixie, to be part of that effort. Now, if you’ll take Flash and disappear for a while, I’ll do what I do best. Nifty-looking wheelbarrow you got out there. I’ve been thinking about getting one. I could wheel Tildy around the backyard.” Trixie made her way to the door, Flash leaving his post the second she held up her hand. She turned back and reached for the last cigarette lying on the counter.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that,” Elmo said.
“I’m going topretend to smoke it, Elmo.” Trixie turned back a second time. “I’d be happy to lend you the wheelbarrow to try out. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to waste the money buying one.”
“Take the offer. Fingerprints. DNA,” Marcus said smartly.
Trixie was stunned at Marcus’s willingness to help his kidnappers.
Elmo walked over to the door. “I’d be happy to take it off your hands for a trial run, Trixie. Fred and I can load it up when we’re finished here.”
“Fred isn’t here, Elmo. He had…uh…business in Rayne.”
“Not a problem. Give us thirty minutes, Trixie.”
Trixie walked away from the house. As soon as she was out of sight, she whipped her cell phone out of her pocket. Dodo picked up on the first ring. Trixie’s words all ran together in one long rush. “We got here, Fred’s on his way, the doctor is here. Marcus is okay. He had a drink and a cigarette. I forgot to send the wheelbarrow back, so Elmo is going to take it to his house. I saw Marcus on the news.” She wound down like a balloon with a slow leak.
Trixie fired up the cigarette with shaky hands. She almost choked to death. Now she remembered why she gave up cigarettes in the first place.
Dodo’s voice was just as fast and furious as Trixie’s voice. “Lunch was fine. Ducky said Bella played it real cool. No unwanted visitors yet. We have an alibi for two o’clock, with those goons working on Bella’s houses in the shoe. It’s on the news here, but they’re not playing it up. Yet. We haven’t seen Darby or Ben yet either. We’re just sitting here on the porch. Call me after the doctor leaves.”
“Okay.” Trixie snapped off the phone. She puffed and coughed, coughed and puffed, as she walked around the yard, Flash at her side. She smoked the cigarette until it was down to the filter. She felt relieved when she was finished. She looked back at the house, wondering what the future held in store for her friends. She shivered in the humid summer air. She would be glad when autumn arrived. The new dogs would arrive for training in a few days. Or was that tomorrow. Damn, she couldn’t remember anything anymore.
Trixie sat down on a small round bench that circled a monstrous oak tree that dripped Spanish moss. Over the years, she’d eaten lunch with Fred in this very spot more times than she could remember. The good old days. She sighed. These were good days, too. Fred and I have wonderful friends, friends that don’t ask questions and help even if it means bending the law. Then there was her niece and godchild, Jane, and her husband, Mike, with the two little ones to round out her life. Yes, life was good. Flash was the dearest animal on earth, as were all thenewbies who arrived four times a year for intensive police training. She crossed her fingers that the good life would continue.
Flash leaped to his feet, his head swiveling to stare at his mistress. They were being called. He pawed her skinny leg. Trixie took a long moment to observe her beloved companion. His last checkup revealed the beginning of arthritis in his hindquarters. Flash was aging just the way she was. A wave of sadness engulfed her. A shrill whistle from the back porch shook her from her reverie. She got up and followed the German shepherd to the house.
Elmo was beaming from ear to ear. “This young fella,” he said, jerking his head in Marcus’s direction, “is in surprisingly good condition. I’d like to see him get a little exercise. Start out slow. Let him walk with the dog but be close by or give him a cane to begin with. He’s a tad wobbly. I’ll get back to you with the blood results by late tomorrow. No reason at all I can see that he can’t be on the same diet as Fred. I’m leaving samples of the meds he’s on as well as a dozen insulin packs that I put in the refrigerator. Fred can give him his shots.” He shook his head to show what he thought about what was going on. “Well, Trixie, my good and old friend, I’d say God is going to smile on you for what you’ve done.” He leaned over, and whispered, “Your secret is safe with me. Obviously you knew that, or you wouldn’t have called me. I’ll give you a call later this evening. I just gave him his shot, so he’s good till morning. Now, if you and my wonderful wife are of a mind, let’s get that wheelbarrow into my trunk.”
“Flash, keep your eye on our guest. I’ll be right back.”
Outside, the three oldsters huffed and puffed until they got the wheelbarrow into the trunk of the ancient Buick. Elmo tied it down with a ratty-looking piece of rope.
“Thanks for all your help, Elmo. Tell me something, why is Marcus’s speech so slow?”
“Yours would be, too, if you had as much Valium in you as he does. He’s going to be fine once it wears off. Trust me, Trixie. Say hello to Fred for me.”
Still dressed in her cop uniform, Trixie walked back into the house. She smiled when she saw the shepherd on Marcus’s lap. That alone was a feat that verged on awe. Both man and dog were sound asleep. Trixie dusted her hands dramatically as she left the room to go upstairs to change her clothes.
Yep, this was too good a plot to let fall by the wayside. When she returned downstairs, she put on a pot of coffee. While it dripped, she went into her office for a yellow legal pad. She carried it out to the kitchen and started to write.
And thus the sixty-seventh T. F. Dingle masterpiece was born. She knew as she made her notes that she had an instant best seller on her hands.
Oh, yeah.
13
The Lane sisters were sitting in Dodo’s kitchen drinking strong black coffee, their eyes on the clock and Dodo’s cell phone, sitting smack in the middle of the table. They werenot so patiently waiting for the phone to ring. Diddy was pouring herself a third cup when she heard the sound of a car’s engine. She craned her neck to look past the trailing green fern hanging over the kitchen window. “It’s Ben.” Her voice was flat yet jittery-sounding.
Dodo toyed with her coffee cup before she held it up for Diddy to refill. “I wonder where he’s been all day. Do you know that for every cup of coffee you drink you have to pee three times. I read that inHealth Watch when I was waiting in the dentist’s office.”
Ducky grimaced. “Thanks for sharing that little gem, Dodo. God, you don’t think that old clunker broke down, do you? No, no, Fred would have called if that happened. Where the hell is he?”
“Unlike his wife, Fred does not have a heavy foot. He’s probably going the speed limit. He’ll be here soon. What is Ben doing?”
Diddy craned her neck, the fronds of the fern tickling her neck. “He’s walking across the yard. I assume he’s going to see Darby. Yep, that’s where he’s going. Willie just barreled out of the house. I think you’re going to get your wish, Dodo. Something’s going on between those two.”
Ducky bounced across the kitchen. She turned on the television for the six o’clock local news. She looked over at the clock. “Two minutes till the news comes on,” she said. “I’m really surprised that Bella hasn’t called. She was too damn cool at lunch. I think she knew something was going on. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.”
Dodo scoffed as she gulped at her coffee. “You only feel that way because you feel guilty. Get over it. All you did was eat. Diddy, Trixie, and I are the ones who did all the dirty work. It’s our rear ends that will go in a sling if Bella can nail us.” She gulped at her coffee.
The phone in the center of the table rang just as the local newscaster appeared on the small TV screen. The Lane sisters looked at the phone. It rang four times before Ducky shoved Dodo’s hand toward it. “Answer the damn phone already, Dodo. I’ll watch the news.”
Dodo’s voice was a bare squeak when she said, “Hello. Yes. Ten minutes.” Her sigh was so loud in the kitchen it literally drowned out the voice of the newscaster. “Go! Go! I’ll fill you in when you get back,” Ducky said, making shooing motions with her hands. The screen door slammed with such force, Ducky shuddered. She turned up the volume on the TV the moment Bella Gunn appeared on the screen, wringing her hands and sobbing.
Ducky pressed her face to within inches of the screen to better tell if Bella was acting or not. She decided she was acting when she didn’t see any tears rolling down Bella’s gaunt cheeks. One thing was being made clear between Bella’s sobs. The nurse had had some kind of blackout and was currently being examined at Baton Rouge General Hospital. The cameraman moved his camera back to the newscaster, who said, “As we all know, the first twenty-four hours are crucial in a disappearance or a kidnapping. The police, at last report, are saying they have no clues as to Mr. Gunn’s disappearance. We don’t know yet if the FBI will be called in.”
“Oh, God, oh, God!” Ducky said, running to the kitchen cabinet. With shaking hands she reached for a bottle of apricot brandy and guzzled till her eyes started to water.
Her back to the kitchen door, she turned when she heard the screen door creak. She whirled around, the brandy bottle in her hand. “Ben!”
“What’s wrong?” Ducky pointed to the television screen. Ben’s jaw dropped. “What the hell…”
“Bella…Bella…was just on, sobbing and wringing her hands. Your father either wandered off or he was kidnapped. They said…they said the nurse…they implied she had some sort of…of blackout or maybe a seizure of some sort. She’s in the hospital. The nurse, not Bella,” Ducky babbled.
Ben stood rooted to the floor. “Are you telling me my father’s missing?”
Hey, Good Looking Page 17