Fat raindrops spattered against the hood. Removing my keys from my pocket, I climbed in, shut the door and locked it. Normal stood in the open doorway, the wavering shadows cast by the television playing in the dark room behind him. I turned my head and met the old man’s steady gaze.
The car started on the first try, thank God. Normal closed the door. Hot and more than a little bothered, I lowered the window to let in the humid breeze. The sound of yelling inside the house blended with the purr of the engine.
I made out the words “cop,” “wife,” and “idiot” before shifting into gear.
Left ankle throbbing, I managed to work the clutch well enough to get down the driveway without stalling out. I turned back toward the meadery, swearing under my breath at Cabot and her lousy directions. Guess it served me right, not calling Iris before heading over to her house.
The adrenaline began to fade, leaving me shaking from scalp to toe.
And my mind began to work.
Why had Jakie reacted so violently when I knocked on the door? He could have simply told me to go away. I would have happily skedaddled. But to drag me inside? What was that all about?
And that house! Normal’s use of the word “mess” was the understatement of the year. The only way to make that place habitable would be to remove all trace of flooring and start over again. I bet even the paint on the walls smelled bad.
Sheesh.
The state patrol car came up behind the Land Rover fast and silent, red and blue lights flashing brightly against the afternoon gloom. I pulled to the side, sucking my breath in through my teeth in pain when I had to use the clutch to downshift.
The lights pulled in behind me.
What the …?
Barr boiled out of the cruiser and ran to the Land Rover. The skin was drawn tight across his features, and worry radiated from his eyes. I lowered the window the rest of the way as he reached me.
“Are you okay?” were the first words out of his mouth.
I nodded. “How did you know?”
“You’re really okay,” he said, relaxing the tiniest amount.
“My ankle’s twisted, but I’m all right. Honest.”
He stared at me, then passed a hand over his face. When he looked back up at me the worry in his eyes had been joined by fury.
“God damn it, Sophie Mae!” he roared.
I flinched.
“What the hell were you thinking? Didn’t I tell you specifically to stay away from Normal Brown?”
“But—”
“Didn’t I ask you nicely to leave him out of your ridiculous little investigation?”
“But—”
“Didn’t you promise?”
“I—”
“Why couldn’t you once—just once—do as I asked? Have you any idea what you’ve done?”
I opened my mouth, intending to defend myself, but all that came out was a choked sob. And then another. All the fear and anger and desperation of the last hour came pouring out.
Barr yanked the door open and wrapped his arms around me.
“It was—” I managed, “an accident.”
He patted me on the back. “I know.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I gasped out.
More pats.
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. Willed away the sudden flood of tears. For the first time since Jakie opened that door, I felt truly safe.
“I didn’t go there on purpose,” I said.
“It’s okay. Sorry I yelled. I was just so scared when they told me you were in there. Forgive me?”
Sniffling, I nodded my snotty nose wetly against his shoulder.
Wait a minute. What?
I pulled away and fumbled for a tissue. Blew my nose. Peered around my husband’s shoulder at the patrol car behind us, the lights now blessedly off.
“Who told you I was at Normal’s?”
“I’ll explain later,” Barr said.
My eyes, already swollen and red, narrowed. “Tell me now.”
He sighed.
“Barr, what’s going on?”
A pickup truck drove by, the occupants gawking at us, probably wondering what the tousled blond with the red nose had been up to that got her pulled over by the cops.
“Normal has been under surveillance for some time now. That’s why I didn’t want you to have anything to do with him. Not only is he dangerous, but we’re developing a case against him that should put him away for a good long time. Probably the rest of his life.”
“Murder?” I breathed.
His mouth twisted in a wry grimace. “No, dear. Not murder. That’s your purview.”
I ignored the sarcasm, looking back at the car behind us again. “Who—”
“Can you get home on your own?” he interrupted. “We need to get off this road.”
“My ankle is pretty messed up. It’s hard to shift, but I made it this far.”
He shook his head. “I’ll drive you. Hang on a minute.” A few strides later he was talking to the driver behind us. I heard the other car’s engine roar to life, and the sound of tires on gravel. As the patrol car passed by, the officer inside gave me a long, hard look.
Then Barr was back by my window. “Scoot over.”
I scooted. He climbed in and adjusted the seat. We fastened our seat belts, and he pulled back onto the road.
“Where’s your car?” I asked, meaning the department’s unmarked Impala he usually drove.
“At the station. The lieutenant was there, and we came out here together when Robin called with the news that my wife was a possible hostage.”
“Hostage? She really said that?”
His eyes cut toward me and then back to the road. “Jakie’s frighteningly volatile—anything could have been going on.”
I swallowed, forcing my dry throat to work. I’d been really scared, but maybe not scared enough. A sudden weariness descended over me, and my eyes closed for a long moment. The pain in my ankle flared every time my heart beat, a throbbing reminder of my close brush with violence.
Opening my eyes, I slid my seat back and put my foot up on the dash. My ankle had swollen to twice its normal size and turned a lovely shade of purple.
“Who’s the lieutenant? And why are you guys working outside of the city limits?”
“It’s a multi-jurisdictional case, so we’re working with both the sheriff’s department and Washington state patrol.” He glanced over at me, probably weighing what to say.
I waited, too exhausted to quiz him.
“Since there are only two detectives on the Cadyville force, we’re working on this thing pretty much full time and fitting in our other cases around it.”
“No wonder you’ve been so tired lately.”
“It’ll be worth it in the long run. We’re gathering more evidence every day. Do you remember the Morton case? The one the judge threw out because the confession wasn’t clear on the recording and Morton wouldn’t sign the transcript?”
“Of course I remember. The guy who was selling drugs at the high school. That’s the whole reason you wanted those mini-cassettes in the first place.”
“Believe me, I’m aware of the irony. No way would you have been inside Normal Brown’s house if it hadn’t been for those stupid tapes.”
I waved my hand in front of my face, remembering. “God, it was awful in there. So Normal’s involved with drugs at the high school like Morton was?”
“He’s involved with Morton—and some other people. I’ll tell you more when I can, but we’re trying to keep all this on a need-to-know basis. Maybe I should’ve told you this much before, but I was trying to keep you as far away from the situation as possible.”
“But I didn’t know I would be breaking my promise to stay away from Normal.”
“And Jakie.”
“And Jakie,” I agreed. “I was looking for Quentin’s house, to drop by and see whether I could do anything for his widow. I’d never have gone to the door of that miser
able dump if Willa hadn’t told me her sister was at Iris’ house. Victoria’s Passat was right there in the driveway, so I figured it had to be the right place.”
His face cleared. “That makes perfect sense.”
“Well, I’m glad something does.”
“If it makes you feel any better, Victoria was indeed at Iris’ house. Which is quite close to Normal’s house. The one he actually lives in. His truck had a flat tire, so he borrowed her car to come over to the drug house.”
“Boy, that’s some surveillance you have on him.”
“Him and Jakie, both. Mostly on the house you just escaped from.”
Escaped from. God. “Which you just called ‘the drug house.’”
We’d reached the edge of Cadyville. Barr slowed to a sedate twenty-five miles an hour.
“I guess I did.” He was quiet for a moment. “What did you see in there?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Nothing at all?”
“It’s empty except for a chair and a TV. No other furniture that I saw. Nothing on the walls. No lamps. It was dark. The blinds and curtains were all closed.”
He nodded. “They would be.”
“But there’s nothing to see in there. Of course, I was only in the living room. Never saw into the bedrooms or the kitchen.”
Relief flooded his face. “You didn’t see into the kitchen at all?”
I shook my head. “Nuh uh. The door was closed. All I could see was the light on under the door.”
“Good.”
“Good? I’d rather be able to help you.”
“I’m glad you can’t. That way Normal won’t have any reason to keep you quiet.”
A shiver ran through me. I rolled up my window. Sniffed my jacket. “I don’t know how they can stand to be in there with all the windows shut like that. The stink was so bad it made my eyes water. I can still smell it on my jacket. Cat pee.”
He pulled my other arm over to his face as we pulled up in front of the Drop-In Clinic. “Let me smell.”
“Weirdo.”
He let go of my arm and straightened. “Ammonia.” He met my eyes. “The telltale smell of a meth lab.”
“It’s just a sprained ankle,” I told the curly haired doctor. “There’s nothing to do about it except ice it and wait.”
“Stop telling her how to do her job,” Barr said from his position by the door of the examining room.
In the car, I’d argued against medical attention and lost. At least my concerned hubby hadn’t insisted on taking me to the hospital in a neighboring town. The Drop-In Clinic was as good as it got in Cadyville, which was fine with me.
Doctor Freeman bent over my foot, propped on a stool in front of me, probing and rotating and saying, “Hmm. Mmm, hmm,” under her breath. She looked up. “Yeah, it’s sprained all right.”
“See? I told you. Ice and wait.” And slather copious amounts of arnica salve on it.
A smile tugged at her lips. “Ice, elevate, and wait. You’re going to have to stay off this. I’m giving you crutches.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“Sophie Mae …” Barr’s tone held warning.
“Fine.” I forced a smile. My energy was returning as the adrenalin backlash evened out in my bloodstream. “Crutches it is.” I glanced at my watch. “Penny was due at the house fifteen minutes ago. I’m sure she’s waiting.”
The clinic set me up with a pair of crutches, and I swung my way back out to the Land Rover. On the way home, Barr called the station and arranged for a patrol car to pick him up and take him back to work. It was waiting behind my employee’s PT Cruiser in front of the house when we got there.
Penny flung her car door open before we had even stopped. Radiating agitation, she marched up to the window. “Sophie Mae, if I’m going to be kept waiting like this, I—” Coming face-to-face with Barr brought her up short. “Oh …”
“You must be Penny,” he said. “I’m Sophie Mae’s husband.” He stuck his hand through the opening.
She took it without a word.
“I’m afraid it’s my fault that Sophie Mae’s late. I insisted we have her ankle looked at before coming home.”
On the other side of the Rover, I wrestled crutches, tote, and self to the sidewalk.
Penny craned her neck, trying to see me better. “Her ankle? What happened?”
“Just a little sprain,” I called. “Be with you in a jif.”
Awkwardly working the crutches, I managed something that faintly resembled a rhythm. At least I hadn’t fallen down using the darn things.
Yet.
“Don’t worry,” I said to Penny. “I’ll pay you for your time. And there’s plenty to do inside, so if you want to stay an hour later, that’s fine, too.”
“Oh, no, no, I couldn’t possibly do that. In fact, I’ll have to leave early today.”
The crutches stilled. “What?”
“Robbie—my youngest?” Gone was the agitation, replaced by delight.
I nodded. The one who couldn’t walk two blocks to a gas station.
Barr had gotten out and was waiting. I held up a finger. “Hang on just a second, Penny.” Turning to him, I said, “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. Go ahead. Catch the bad guys.”
He came up and wrapped his arms around me, right in front of Officer Dawson still waiting in the car and Penny gawping at us from the sidewalk.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he whispered in my ear. “Don’t get into any trouble before then, okay?”
I laughed—sort of. Hadn’t he said that yesterday? “I’ll do my best.”
“Hmmph.” He strode to the police car and got in. They drove away. I watched them go most of the way down the block before turning back to my employee. Who had been telling me she had something better to do than actually work for me that afternoon.
“You two are so cute!” she gushed. “My husband would no more kiss me on the street than he’d drop his pants.”
Good to know.
“So. Robbie,” I prompted.
“Yes. He’s looking for a job, you see. Now, we’ve told him his job is to go to the community college and get good grades. To concentrate on his schoolwork, and we’d pay for his apartment and living expenses.” She paused.
I began to shuffle up the walk, desperately hoping she would get to the point.
She fell in beside me. “He wants to get a job anyway. Says he’s too old to have us paying for everything.”
“How old is he?” I asked, mentally kicking myself for extending the story.
“Twenty-seven.”
Oh, good Lord.
“That seems old enough to make your own money,” I ventured.
She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. At any rate, he’s filling out job applications this afternoon.”
I waited. She beamed at me. Finally I said, “And …?”
“And I need to leave early to help him.”
That seemed like a good time to try putting some weight on my left foot. The pain shooting through my ankle successfully distracted me from saying what I was thinking.
“When were you thinking of going?” I asked instead.
She looked at her watch and then up at me with regret. “I thought I’d stay an hour, but now it will have to just be half an hour or so.”
That would be about enough time for her to package a dozen lotion bars.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off? No sense getting started on something and then having to leave in the middle.”
A sunny smile at that. “Well, I think you’re right about that, dear. And that way you can take the afternoon off, too. Take care of that ankle of yours.”
“Mmm.” No way could I afford to take the afternoon off—
especially now.
Sheesh.
“What happened to your ankle, anyway?”
“I sprained it,” I said, unwilling to give her any gossip fodder
. Not that it would matter in the long run. I wondered what story she’d come up with to spread around.
For once, whatever it was, I doubted it would be nearly as salacious as the actual truth.
_____
I tossed the crutches on the bench in the foyer and hopped on one foot into the bathroom to retrieve the arnica salve. Back on the sofa,
I carefully rubbed it on my swollen ankle, drawing the lavender scent into my lungs. The enormity of what really could have happened to me hit once I was alone. Thank God, Penny had gone. I simply couldn’t deal with her on top of everything else right now.
Ice. I needed ice. And to elevate my foot.
Now how the heck was I going to do that and get anything done? Anxiety flittered against my rib cage. I had to get those orders out. All by myself, since Cyan had a little do tonight called prom and Penny, bless her absence, was, well … absent.
A nice big handful of painkillers might come in handy. I wondered whether Victoria had any OxyContin to spare.
When the doorbell rang, I might have ignored it if Brodie hadn’t gone nuts with the barking.
“Shhh,” I said, and got to my feet.
Or foot, rather.
Gingerly, I put a tiny bit of weight on my bad ankle and found I could bear it if I limped heavily. Uncomfortable but doable. Good. No way could I wrestle a pair of crutches up and down the stairs to my workroom.
Ruth Black stood on the front step. “Sophie Mae, honey, what’s wrong?” She bustled in. “Thaddeus gave me your message yesterday, and I didn’t hear back from you so I thought I’d just drop by since I was out running errands. You look terrible!”
“Thanks, Ruth,” I said with a rueful grin. I limped back into the living room.
She grabbed my elbow after a few steps. Her spiked white hair had been freshly trimmed to an inch long, her eyes twinkled concern at me, and her long, batik-print skirt swished between us
as she guided me to the sofa. She was surprisingly strong for a seventy-one-year-old.
“What happened?”
“I sprained my ankle.”
She gave me a look. “No kidding?”
I eased onto a chair. “Let’s just say I chose the wrong gravel driveway to run on.”
Her eyes flicked to her watch. “I know there’s more to it. Have you been up to one of your investigations again? That’s when you usually get hurt.”
Wined and Died: A Home Crafting Mystery Page 14