by Dale Mayer
“Sure,” she said in a distracted tone.
“What are you up to?” When she didn’t answer right away, his voice sharpened. “Doreen, talk to me. What trouble are you in now?”
She glared into the phone. “Hey, be nice. I didn’t have to answer the call, you know.”
“Why wouldn’t you answer the call?”
“I had three threatening phone calls last night,” she said calmly. “But I got the last laugh.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he roared. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She snickered. “The messages were short. Just bitch, bitch, you’ll get yours. That kind of stuff,” she said. “But, on the third call, I told him he was getting really boring, and I hung up on him first. I haven’t heard back from him since.”
There was silence, then he said, “Did you taunt some stranger who was threatening you?”
Still squatting at the edge of the creek, staring at the ground, she sat back and frowned. “I don’t know that I would call it taunting exactly …”
“I would. Did you consider the fact somebody out there just murdered a woman and may very well have seen you following them?”
“I highly doubt they would think I was any kind of threat,” she said. “I mean, let’s get real.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice turning hard, cold. “Let’s get real. You hear an argument. You follow a couple. You hear gunshots. You find a dead body. Then you get threatening phone calls. All in the same frigging day. Is that real enough?”
She winced. “Okay, so I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I did,” he snapped. And then he groaned. “You have such a strange sense of right and wrong.”
“Maybe. But at least it’s my sense.” And she disconnected the call.
As she sat here, she muttered, “Damn, damn, damn.” Of course he was right. She was still a little out of control after being so fettered under her soon-to-be ex-husband’s thumb. She made all her own decisions now, but was she making good ones? Not necessarily. Mack was pissed she’d followed that couple, and, the trouble was, she didn’t even really have a reason for it. Well, except for her gut feeling and that the truck had followed the Mini.
But maybe they were attending the same meeting? It wasn’t like Doreen thought the woman was in any real danger, which would have been a whole different story. But yet, the woman could have been in danger. Doreen just thought the way the couple acted was curious. Doreen would like to say she was psychic, but that would make her a pretty shitty psychic, since she didn’t save the woman’s life by warning her. So, while Doreen wasn’t exactly sure what the hell was going on with her unknown caller, in the end, she decided that Mack had a good reason to be disgruntled with her, what with her not being an accurate psychic and all.
She also hadn’t really considered that the caller last night was serious. His tone had been too mocking. As if he was pulling a child’s prank.
She straightened up, threw out her arms at the animals, and said, “You guys need to pinpoint what you want me to see because, from this position, I can’t see it.”
The look on Goliath’s face was enough to make her glare at him. “Stop being so arrogant and just show me.”
And the damn cat got up, did a forward stretch like one of those silly yoga poses with his butt in the air waggling, and his claws came down on something in front of them.
She heard a metallic clink as his claws met something hard.
She dove forward. “Why didn’t you say so?” A small corner of something stuck just barely out of the ground. She’d never have noticed it because it was all rusty and covered in mud. “No clue what this is,” she said.
She tried to pinch the corner and tug it loose, but it wouldn’t move. She needed a shovel.
“We have to go back. I need some tools. This looks like it could be a bigger job.” She wiggled the rusted muddy piece again but still got no movement. “And I’d prefer gloves.” She looked down at her fingers.
Appropriately Thaddeus squawked at her.
She glared. “Don’t tell me that you saw this last night and have kept an eye on it all night? It’s hardly big enough to see from where I’m standing, forget about from the second story of the house.” But, as she looked up toward her house, she realized it was in a direct line with her bedroom window. She groaned. “Okay, so you guys just might be the weirdest animals on the planet.”
Mugs barked.
She grinned at him. “That’s all right. I love you anyway.”
She grabbed her coffee cup, and her phone rang. It was Mack again. She clicked Talk and said, “I’m not answering this.” And she hung up. And then she realized what she’d done.
She threw her head back, her gaze up at the sky, and groaned. “Well, that’ll make his morning. If he tells his coworkers, they will all think I’m crazy.”
Then again they probably already did. She’d seen the looks on the guys’ faces when they arrived at the carnation garden yesterday. They had to wonder at anybody who could find bodies on a regular basis like she did. What no one seemed to understand was that she didn’t go looking for them.
Okay, so yesterday she was looking, but she wasn’t expecting a body. She was searching for carnation beds to see what they would look like en masse. Surely it wasn’t her fault somebody had decided to drop the body in the carnations. Besides, she certainly wasn’t seeking any family planning. The last thing she had in her future was the prospect of children.
That caused her a pang of regret because that possibility had always been out there, just never at the right time. But somehow plans changed. Anyway, she needed gloves and a shovel. She marched toward the house and put her phone on the kitchen countertop. “Mister Smarty-Pants Mack, if you call again, I truly won’t answer. I’m leaving my phone right here.”
She refilled her coffee, grabbed her gloves and shovel, and headed back toward the creek. Maybe, with any luck, this would be something fun for a change. And not something that would lead to more murdered people. She was decidedly not in the mood for murder—unless she was the one who got to help with the investigating of the murdering.
Chapter 8
Back outside in the garden Doreen placed her cup of coffee off to the side. “Mugs, don’t dump that.”
He gave her a sad look. She chuckled.
She shooed the animals away so she had a little more space to work in. They were still sitting as they were before, in front of the buried mystery. With her gloves on, she tried again to pull the exposed corner.
It was thin, and it was metal. It looked as if it had been here for a while.
With the shovel, she scooped away some of the dirt and rocks around it, hoping for a way to loosen it up. Slowly, bit by bit, it worked. It resembled a license plate. And that made no sense. How would a license plate get washed down the creek? Unless it had come through the debris flow during the high water runoffs in spring.
As she’d learned, all kinds of things came down in that spring runoff. And not necessarily anything she wanted to see. It was kind of sad in a way, but that was the routine of Mother Nature.
Finally, with lots of back-and-forth action, she loosened the item enough to pull it out. She lifted it and stared at the banged-up piece of metal. “So now we have a license plate.” She looked around at the three animals staring at it, like it was a viper. “What are we supposed to do with this?”
“You could give it to me for a change,” Mack said from behind her, reaching out one palm.
She looked up at him, begrudgingly handing over her find. “Who invited you?”
“I invited myself,” he said darkly. “What the hell do you mean, I’m not answering this call and then hanging up on me?”
“I didn’t think it through,” she admitted. “I just answered you and hung up.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You realize I was standing in the middle of the office, howling at your response. So I was forced to tell the guys what you’d done.”
“Oh, you have a reputation all right,” he said with a nod of his head. “But hardly as an idiot.”
“As what then?” she asked curiously.
“Maybe as somebody who has more than enough bad luck to get caught up into trouble time and time again.”
She snorted at him. “Well, they can just get over it. If they did their jobs, I wouldn’t need whatever magical ability I have to attract bad luck.” She pointed at the license plate he now held. “I know it’s not a normal question, but have you ever seen that before?”
He rolled his eyes. “Close to fifty thousand people live in this town. Do you really expect me to remember all their license plates?”
“I figured, since this license plate was buried close to my property, and, considering the recent Betty Miles case, I wondered if it was related.”
Frowning, he shook his head. “It’s a truck license plate.”
She studied the letters and numbers. “Whatever. Why don’t you run it through your database and see if it comes up with anything?”
“And why would I do that?”
She raised her hands in exasperation. “Maybe the rest of the truck is buried around here too. And potentially,” she added, “it might have something to do with another case.”
“Wow, you’re really desperate and bored.”
“Not anymore,” she said. “Apparently we have another murder case to solve.” She beamed up at him.
He shook his head. “No, no, no, no, no. I have a new case to solve. You don’t.”
“It’s not my fault somebody killed her while I was out there.”
“What do you mean, they killed her while you were out there?”
“While I was at the run-down house, I heard the gunshots. As I told you.”
“We only have your word for that.” His gaze narrowed at her in warning.
“Are you telling me that you haven’t gone inside the house to check?”
“We have officers there now,” he said. “We had no reason to go inside the first time.”
“Good,” she said. “I was afraid, just because I was the one who told you about it, that you might get stubborn and not check it out. But, if that’s the actual crime scene, well, all your forensic evidence will be there.”
“Thank you very much for your Detective 101 insights,” he said sarcastically.
She punched her hands onto her hips. “If you’re in a bad mood, you can leave.”
“I want one of my IT guys to look at your phone, see if we can trace your threatening caller.”
She ignored him but knew he would win out in the end.
It was his turn to raise his hands in surrender. “What is it about you,” he asked, “that sends me around the bend?”
“I’m irresistible,” she said. “If nothing else, you get to solve cold cases. Maybe they’ll give you a medal for the Betty Miles case.”
“It should be you who gets the medal,” he muttered.
“Okay, does it come with a cash reward?” She shot him a cheeky grin.
At that, he snorted. “No, you’re supposed to do your duty as a good citizen.”
“Yeah,” she said. “The trouble is, this citizen is broke.”
“Did you check with Wendy?”
Doreen nodded. “I did. But I didn’t understand that ninety-day accounting stuff.”
His face turned sympathetic. “It makes sense she would do it that way.”
“I guess,” Doreen said. “But I have to wait a long time for that money.” Then she brightened. “On the other hand, I did start going through Nan’s stuff in the master bedroom. I found a whole pile of clothes that I’ll keep,” she said. “And I found a couple hundred bucks in cash already.” She beamed. “I don’t know how she got through life losing that kind of money all the time. But I’m grateful for it.”
“Did you ever consider she might have salted the clothing?”
“Salted?” She couldn’t make the connection between adding salt to clothing and why Nan would do that.
His face broke into a wide grin. “Meaning, she might have planted that money in the pockets for you to find.”
She stared at him blankly. “Do you think Nan would do that?” Doreen hoped not. Made her feel like a pity case.
“No idea,” he said. “But, if you think about it, she knew you were in a tough spot. This is a great way for you to find extra money.”
She frowned. “Well, I can kind of see her doing it. But Nan should keep her money. It takes some of the fun out of it.”
“So forget about it,” he said. “Just because it could be a salted gold mine, doesn’t mean it is.” When his phone rang, he answered it as he turned away from her. “Okay, fine,” he said. “I’ll be there right away.” He turned back to her. “I’ve got to leave. Try to stay out of trouble.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked. And then she spied the expression on his face and knew. She asked eagerly, “They found something at the Hawthorne house, didn’t they?”
He shrugged and walked toward his car.
She ran up behind him, Mugs running ahead, Goliath weaving between their feet. Almost tripping over him, she swore, “Goliath, damn it. Get out of the way.”
Mack laughed. “See? Even your animals are trying to keep you in line.”
“Good luck with that,” she scoffed. “I’m right though, aren’t I? Aren’t I?”
He glared at her.
“Yes, I am,” she said. “Woohoo! Now what you really should do is thank me for that because I just made your job much easier.”
At the corner of her house he spun around. “And how do you think this phone call had anything to do with you?”
“I told you where the shooting took place,” she said. “I found you one body. So do I also have to find her killer?” she added with a note of asperity in her voice.
“Just because you saw two people arguing at a public store,” he said, “doesn’t mean he shot her.”
“No, of course not,” she said, trying for a bland face. “But, then again, it’s a good place to start.”
“No,” he said with a meaningful smile on his face. “We’ll start with the body at the crime scene.” And then he was gone.
It took her a minute to think through his last statement. She ran out to the front yard. “You mean, there’s a second body?” she cried out.
She came to a dead stop as reporters stood, eager to hear her words. I walked right into this media nightmare, didn’t I? She shook her head as Mack drove away, a big grin on his face. She turned around and hastily ran to her backyard. For the first time in a long time, she closed the gate with a firm click behind her. Maybe that would keep out the predators. She couldn’t guarantee it, but she could hope.
In the backyard, she walked onto the veranda and sat down with her cell to see if there was any news on Celeste’s body. Sometimes the local stations did a pretty decent job in keeping up. Indeed, already a report on a body had been made because of the unexplained police presence at the Family Planning Center.
Thaddeus hopped up onto the veranda table, checking to see if any birdseed was here. She looked at him and said, “You know what? Because you’re eating enough for two, I’d wonder if you were pregnant.”
He gave her his most shocked look. She burst out laughing. As she did, her phone rang. She looked down to see it was Nan. “Hi, Nan,” Doreen said gaily as she got up and refilled her cup with the now-cold coffee from the pot. It had shut off while she was outside with Mack.
“How are you, dear?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “What’s up?”
“I just worry about the effect on your mental health when you keep finding all these dead bodies.”
“I didn’t say anything about finding any dead body,” she said. “What are you ge
tting at, Nan?”
“Well, a dead body was found,” she said, “and I’m pretty darn sure you’re the one who found it.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked warily.
“Because you’re finding all the dead bodies so far. You really should allow other people to find them.”
Doreen stared aghast at her phone. “Nan, you make it sound like I’m being greedy.”
“Well, you are, in a way.”
“Do you want to find dead bodies?” she asked her grandmother.
“No, no, of course not. But, if you find them all, what are the police supposed to do?” she said in her most reasonable tone.
Along with most of the other conversations with Nan, this one had turned bizarre. “Are you just fishing for information for the betting pools?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m really worried about your health. Your mental health.”
“My health is just fine. I’m worried about my bank account,” she said bluntly.
“Did you contact Wendy?” Nan asked curiously. “She should have some money for you by now.”
“Why does everybody ask me that?” Doreen asked, laughing. “Yes, I did. And, yes, a few things have sold, but I won’t be paid any money for at least three months.”
“Oh my,” Nan said. “That doesn’t sound fair.”
“I don’t know if it’s fair or not, but it’s the way Wendy does business,” Doreen said. “It doesn’t really leave me a lot of options.”
“What about the antiques?”
“Wendy did give me the name of somebody to contact. A German guy who works at the Mission Bible Thrift Store on a volunteer basis to fix small appliances or something.”
“Fen Gunderson?” Nan asked, her voice rising.
“Yes that’s the man.”
“He had an antique shop,” she said, “but I’m not sure he isn’t a bit of a thief.”
Doreen shook her head at that. “Why would you say that?”
“Because Gloria bought a toaster from that place which he supposedly fixed. She took it home, and the first time she used it, there was a puff of black smoke, and the darn thing never worked again.”