Deadly Neighbors (A River Valley Mystery)

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Speaking of, did I hear a dog barking?” Duane took my elbow and steered me toward the passenger seat of a truck.

  “That’s Cleopatra. I bought her today. I’ll introduce you to her later. She’s great.” I slid onto the seat and closed my eyes, anticipating, yet dreading, the next question. One, two. . .

  “Why do you need a dog?”

  I opened my eyes and rolled my head so I faced him. “Thank you for not bringing the motorcycle.”

  “Marsha.”

  “We kind of had an episode last night.”

  “An episode?” His brows drew together. “This isn’t television, Marsha.”

  “Someone wearing a Bill Clinton mask came into our home. They were obviously surprised to see us still awake. Hence, the need for a dog. Cleo’s perfect. She’s a German Shepherd and the most beautiful. . .”

  Duane removed his hat and ran his hands through his hair. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “First the threatening letter, now this.”

  “Bruce told you about the letter?” So much for confidentiality. “It’s actually all part of the same.”

  “How much snooping have you done?”

  I crossed my arms. “Not much, but I’m going to increase. First a car, then a tazer, then I’ll find out who is robbing the town’s citizens.”

  “Lord, help me.” Duane turned the key in the ignition, backed the truck out of the driveway then headed toward town.

  “I don’t know why you’re so upset. It’s not like it’s any of your business.” I stared out the window. “I mean, we’re friends and all, but --”

  Duane stomped the brakes hard enough to throw me against the shoulder harness of the seatbelt and skidded to a stop on the shoulder of the road. His glare froze me in place. “I don’t even know what to say to that so I’ll try to cover it all. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m not the same man I was fifteen years ago. I care about you, Marsha. Very much, but I won’t waste my time if there isn’t a chance between us. If you want to get back at me for the pain I caused you, then fine. Fine! Do it. Hit me.”

  “What?” He’d gone crazy. I flattened myself against the door. Hit him?

  “Think about it, Marsha.” He wiggled a finger between the two of us. “We need to have a serious talk, you and I.” He returned to the road. “I know who has a car for sale. Stephanie Jackson is selling a Prius. Dirt cheap, I heard.” The muscle in Duane’s jaw ticked faster.

  I ripped my gaze away and stared at the passing houses. How did I feel about Duane? I’d already told him I still loved him. Did I want a relationship with him? Could I put myself in such a vulnerable position again? What if he skipped town again? How much can a person really change? “I’ll have to think about that tomorrow,” I whispered to myself. “Today has enough worries of its own.”

  “Okay, Scarlett O’Hara. We’re here.”

  We stopped before a three-story, lavender Victorian. Stephanie carted a box to a nearby shed and glanced over her shoulder as we marched up her flagstone walkway. “Be right there!” She tossed the box inside the building, slammed the door, and inserted a lock. But not before I noticed stuff piled to the ceiling. She wiped her hands on her navy shorts and plastered a smile to her face. “Marsha, how nice to see you. Did you bring some items for my yard sale?”

  “Is that what’s in your shed?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

  I shrugged. “Looks like a lot of stuff. I’m going to be moving into my mom’s guest house. Once we clean it out, I should have something for you.”

  She clapped her hands together in a semblance of glee. “I can’t wait. Gertie’s been hoarding for years. What can I do for you today?”

  “Do you still have the Prius for sale?” Duane asked.

  “I sure do.” She batted her lashes at him. “You’re fast. I just posted it yesterday.” Stephanie led us toward her garage and punched a code into the electronic keypad. “Five thousand dollars, fully loaded, midnight blue; she’s a beauty. Hate to part with it, but we’re saving for the adoption.”

  Duane and I walked around the car, my heart lifting with each step. I ran my fingers over the smooth paint. The Prius might be second-hand, but it was still the newest automobile I’d ever owned. Why was she selling it so cheap? I’m no expert on blue book prices, but even I could guess the price was a steal. I opened the door and slid behind the wheel.

  I’d have to dip into the life insurance money I’d stashed away after Robert’s death, but one look at the cute little hybrid, and I was sold. Having reliable transportation constituted using emergency funds, right? “I’ll take it. I’ll write you a check, but don’t cash it until after tomorrow. I’ve got to transfer the money.”

  “No problem. I didn’t expect it to sell so quickly.”

  I felt giddy with excitement and turned the keys in the ignition. The engine turned over without a glitch. No more Little Blue beast. Lindsey would be sixteen soon and the proud owner of an ancient AMC Spirit. I thought my face would split with the intensity of my grin when I turned to Duane. “Thanks.”

  He winked. “You’re welcome. Do you want me to go with you to buy that Tazer?”

  “Sure. We’ll check the pawn shop first. I’m driving.” I got out from behind the wheel and jogged to Duane’s truck then reached through the window for my purse and withdrew my checkbook. “I just want something that will serve as protection, not break the bank.”

  Stephanie fidgeted from foot to foot, smile wavering, and kept glancing toward the shed. A strange whining cry came from behind the door. “Just an old generator,” Stephanie assured me. “Thing’s been messing up for months.”

  “Do you want me to look at it?” Duane took a step in that direction. “I’m good with mechanical things.”

  “Oh, no. Mark’s just about got it.” Stephanie bit her lip.

  I wrote a check for $5,000 and held out my hand for the title. She gave an obvious sigh of relief as she handed me the envelope. “Here’s the title to the car.” She whirled and hurried toward the shed. Unlocking the padlock, Stephanie slipped into the shed. I couldn’t wait to slide behind the wheel of my new baby.

  But not before I heard a yelp from behind the shed door.

  “Wait a minute, Duane. I heard something.”

  Stephanie disappeared into the darkness where she stored her yard sale junk. The door closed with a bang behind her.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Duane reached out a hand to stop me, but I sidestepped him and headed on my way. “I’ve got to check something out.” I ran on tip toes to peer into the murky recesses of the shed.

  Boxes piled on boxes. What I could only guess was another vehicle lay covered by a tarp. Stephanie rummaged in the corner, offering me an unflattering view of her behind, and the thong sticking up from her waistband. Yuck. Another yelp sounded and I leaped back, tripping over a metal trash can. It fell to its side with a clatter. I clamored to my feet and dashed back to the truck.

  Stephanie emerged from the shed. A calico cat curled in her arms. “Are you spying on me?”

  I was an idiot. Why did I always assume the worst? A cat could’ve easily made the sound I’d heard, right? Maybe? Until I had proof of something, I needed to lay low and not make assumptions. I gave her a smile and a wave, pretending not to hear her shouted question then turned to Duane.

  “Duane, do cat’s yelp?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Follow me home, then I’ll drive us to the pawn shop.”

  I climbed behind the wheel of my new baby and turned the key. Concrete sang beneath the tires as I backed from the driveway. No more groaning or grinding from shifting gears. This baby purred. Like a cat. Dog’s yelped, or whined. I wondered what was in Stephanie’s shed and if I’d recognize the voice when I called to check on the puppies.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Stephanie carried a large cardboard box across her lawn and into the house.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Duane must have still been smarting from
my less than warm attitude toward him. Instead of leaving his truck at my house, he decided to drive it home, tossing me a wave out his window as he drove past the house. Fine. I had things to do, anyway. I directed my new car to the nearest cell phone store.

  An hour later, armed with a shiny new smart phone, I punched in the numbers for the sale of the Chihuahua puppies.

  “Hello?” A man’s voice answered. A lawnmower roared in the background.

  “I’m calling about the puppies.” I tried to balance the phone on my shoulder and start the car at the same time. Obviously, the tiny electronic device wasn’t made for that. I dropped the phone between my seat and the door. After fumbling for several seconds, I pressed it back to my ear. “Sorry. Are you still there?”

  “The puppies aren’t here right now. They’ve, uh, been taken to the vet, for, uh shots. Yeah. Call back in an hour.” Click.

  O-kay. I stared at the phone for a minute before dropping it on the front passenger seat. The man didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to sell the puppies, did he? I’d expected a woman to answer. I would’ve sworn Stephanie Jackson was the dog thief, head of women’s ministry or not. Appearing to be on the wrong track with my hunch on the dogs, I headed to the nearest pawnshop.

  While I drove, I kept eyeing my sleek new phone. The urge to use it was like an addiction. I grabbed it and punched in the number to Gifts from Country Heaven. “Hey, Mom. Guess what?”

  “I don’t have time for guessing games.”

  “I’m talking on my new cell phone. You’re the first person I called.” A weird stranger selling dogs didn’t count. I swerved, and a truck roared past me blaring its horn. My heart threatened to jump out of my ribcage.

  “Are you driving?”

  “Yep.” Made me feel important too.

  “No driving and talking on cell phones. It’s against the law.” Click.

  Hmmph. I started to dial Lynn, then remembered she wasn’t likely to be home and didn’t possess a cell phone. That left Duane. He couldn’t possibly still be mad at me, could he? I pressed the numbers and waited.

  “Hello?”

  He sounded wonderful on the phone. Deep, southern voice. Husky as all get out. “I’m calling on my new cell phone.”

  “Marsha?”

  “Of course it’s me.”

  “Are you calling to apologize?”

  “For what?” I wracked my brain. What had I done now?

  “Call me back when you’re ready.” Click.

  Well, pooh. No one wanted to talk to me, and the whole world was rude. A lonely fifteen-minute drive stretched in front of me. My mother accused me on many occasions of being attention-deficit, but it wasn’t until faced with minutes of having nothing to do that it occurred to me she might be right.

  Focus, Marsha. Think about clearing your daughter of all suspicion regarding theft, or I could think about how I really felt about Duane. No, definitely not that.

  Okay. Point one, Sharon lost a necklace and is now dead. Point two, Harvey Miller is missing a wallet, and Bruce found it in my daughter’s backpack. Not good for Lindsey. Point three, Gloria Simpson’s puppies are gone, and point four—money is missing from mom’s till.

  Suspects? Everyone, and no one. I wasn’t very good at this. Maybe I should think about Duane. He looked good. Better than when I saw him ten years ago. His muscles had filled out, his dimples had deepened, and his kiss rivaled the sun’s heat. I turned on the air conditioner.

  What would be the harm of exploring a new relationship with him? Men played around all the time. It shouldn’t be different for women. I sighed. I couldn’t. Love was a serious thing for me. It was all or nothing. I may not have felt as strong for my husband as I do for Duane, but I’d been the model wife, and Robert had died a happy and content man. I couldn’t be satisfied with less than that. Only time would tell whether Duane wanted something serious and permanent with me.

  The pawnshop, Other People’s Junk, appeared ahead, sparing me the path my thoughts insisted on taking.

  I pulled my Prius into the vacant parking lot, cut the ignition, stuffed my phone into my purse, then slid from the car. I stared at the smudges of something unidentifiable on the shop’s front door. Uh-huh. Wasn’t touching that. Using my hip, I pushed the door open and stepped into the dim recesses of a cluttered, second-hand paradise.

  “Hey, pretty lady.”

  I grimaced at the greasy man behind the counter. Hopefully, I could get what I needed and skedaddle. “I’m looking for a Tazer.”

  “Self-defense? I can see how someone with your good looks would need it.”

  Good grief. I nodded.

  The man reached beneath a glass counter and pulled out a card deck-sized—

  something. Never having seen one before, I felt disappointed. A black square. Didn’t look very impressive. Didn’t they come in pretty colors? “Does it work?”

  “Like a charm. If my dog was here, I’d show you.” He set it on the counter and leaned on the glass. “A one-second burst will shock and disorient a person; a two-second one will send them to their knees for thirty seconds. A cop’s tazer only lasts five seconds. Tazers for civilians are meant to allow you time to get away. Do you want a pretty blue arc, or something that shoots probes? Who do you want to zap?”

  “Nobody right now. The arc type will be fine.” I turned the Tazer in my hand. If I had the ability to shoot anything, I’d be dangerous to be around. Hard to believe something so small could actually knock a person down. “How much?”

  “Twenty-nine, ninety-nine. Comes with a thirty-day guarantee, too. You want a gun to go with it? You’ll have to wait fifteen days to get it, but I can sell it to you now.”

  Fifteen days might be too late. “It’s an emergency.” I drummed up a quivering chin. “Someone’s stalking me. Isn’t there any way you can make an exception?”

  He rubbed his chin and stared at me. “You don’t look dangerous, but you’ll have to make it worth my time. An extra fifty dollars and I’ve got a pretty little .22 pistol you’ll fall in love with.”

  “Sure. That would be great!” A gun, a Tazer, and a German Shepherd. Nobody would mess with me.

  Purchases tucked under my arm, I practically skipped to my car. I wanted to call everyone and tell them. An evening loomed ahead with hours to play with my toys. Did I live within the city limits? Would they arrest me if I set aluminum cans on the fence post for target practice? I really should work on cleaning out my new home. Maybe I could devote time to both.

  My phone rang. I jerked and the car swerved toward the ditch. I straightened out and fumbled in my purse. “Hello?”

  “Are you coming to work today?”

  “Hi, Mom. I’m driving. Can’t talk now.” Two could play that game.

  “Don’t give me that. We’ve had an order for three Time-Out Babies. I need you behind the sewing machine.” Click.

  Why did everyone keep hanging up on me?

  The moment I sashayed in the door, Mom thrust bolts of flowered fabric at me. “What took you so long? Duane came by an hour ago. Does it take that long to buy a cell phone?”

  “I had another errand to run.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. Three o’clock. The store closed in two hours. “I can get one of these sewed. Tomorrow, Lindsey can help me stuff while I sew the others.”

  “As long as they’re ready to be shipped by Friday.” Mom marched to the back of the store.

  There went my opportunity to play. The bell over the door jangled, and Stephanie waltzed in.

  “Hello, Marsha. Have you had an opportunity to see whether you have any donations yet? My yard sale is this Saturday.” She glanced around the shop. “There’s a lot of stuff in here. Surely, you can spare something. Maybe a doo-dad we can raffle?”

  I paused in threading the machine needle. “We cannot spare anything in the store. It’s all for sale. This is our business. I’ll get to our shed by this weekend. I promise.”

  She stared at me for a moment, her smile frozen in
place like a clown’s mask. “This is important to me, Marsha. I’ll do anything to achieve my dream of being a parent.”

  “Point taken.” Good grief. Talk about over the top. She acted like I personally wanted to foil her adoption plans. I turned back to my work. “Good afternoon, Stephanie.”

  A few minutes later, Melvin Brown and Kyle Anderson barged in, arguing loudly over exactly what kind of gift an elderly woman might want. “I’m telling you, she’d like a nice broach to go on a scarf,” Melvin said.

  “And I’m telling you she’d want something hand-made.” Kyle crossed his arms. “That’s why we came here.”

  I sighed and stood. “Gentlemen, may I help you? Who are you shopping for?”

  “Our grandmother.” Melvin glared at Kyle.

  I’d forgotten the two men were cousins. “We do have jewelry, Kyle, and handmade scarves. Why don’t you buy one of each?”

  Melvin frowned. “They ain’t expensive are they? I’m saving for my business. I’m starting to collect a nice little nest egg. Wouldn’t want to dip into it for anything.”

  “Don’t be cheap.” Kyle riffled through the box of pins I laid on the counter. “I’m the one that was robbed. Got to start all over now. But I’ve got an idea that might get me into some fast cash.” He handed me a pink-stoned pin. “This one. Melvin can choose the scarf.”

  Melvin ran his hands through the lengths of silk and chose one that matched the pin.

  Purchases complete, the two men left the store, still bickering over whether a ninety-year-old woman even needed more jewelry. I shook my head. Before the door could swing shut behind them, Marilyn the dog walker breezed in.

  “Hello!”

  I sighed and glanced at the still unthreaded machine. I’d never get home at this rate. Where was my mother? Why wasn’t she waiting the counter so I could work? “Hello, Marilyn. Can I help you?”

  She waved a fluorescent yellow sheet of paper in my face. “I noticed Stephanie had a flier up about her sale, and wondered if I could put one up advertising my dog walking business.”