by Susan Union
“Wiccans.”
“What?”
“That’s what practicing witches are called these days, and they’re completely harmless.”
“Great. Another thing Gina was into that she didn’t tell me about.”
They crossed a healthy patch of grass to where a Saltillo tile deck led to a pair of French doors. Blooming succulents lined the patio, and a statue of Buddha sat by the door. Randi pushed through a second gate, causing a tiny bell to announce their arrival. No barks, no yips, no howls. She checked her reflection in the glass next to the door. “The windows are spotless.”
“If you’ve got dogs,” her mother said with the air of an old hand, “you’ve got nose prints.”
Randi gave the front door a generous rap, the kind any canine worth his salt wouldn’t take lying down, and cocked an ear. “I don’t hear anything. The old guy must have steered us wrong.”
“I agree. This can’t be the right place. Let’s get out of—”
The door swung open, exposing Mel in shorts and a red tank top. Her shiny blonde hair set off her surfer girl tan. Randi had a flash of an old highway billboard: The Coppertone girl and the puppy tugging her down her bathing suit bottom.
“Mel?” Randi asked more to be polite than to validate what she already knew.
“That’s me.” Her eyes were dark blue, almost purple, a shade that matched fingernails currently wrapped tight around a glass of rosé wine as if she were afraid someone might pry it from her grasp. The eyebrow sporting the silver ring went up. “Who are you?”
“Randi Sterling. And this is my mother, Lee Ann. We were at Kira’s last night. You were our waitress.”
“Oh. Sorry. I don’t recognize you. Did I give you the wrong change?”
“No.” Randi shook her head. “That’s not why we’re here.”
“How did you find me?”
Randi swallowed. She’d promised Kira she wouldn’t say… “An old guy we ran into. Neighbor of yours?”
Mel’s face hardened. “He’s a whack job.” She gulped her wine, staring at them over the rim before she lowered the glass.
Randi peered past Mel’s shoulder. All she could see was the corner of a sofa. Where are all the dogs? She was dying to see how it would work with such a large number in such a small space. “May we come in?”
“Uh…I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
The two of them weren’t exactly the threatening sort—less so than a pair of pamphlet-wielding Jehovah’s Witnesses. “It won’t take long. It’s about Gina Thorton.”
Mel drew her head back. “What do you want?”
“Gina and I were best friends growing up,” Lee Ann offered.
The walls came down. Mel’s face softened. “Did she tell you about me?”
“No, her brother did.”
“Andrew doesn’t know where I live, does he?”
“Is that why you told Kira you live at the other place? So Andrew won’t find you? Are you afraid of him?”
“He doesn’t like me. And he’s a bully. I don’t need his brand of bullshit.” Mel moved away from the door and motioned them inside. “Can I get you some wine? Don’t get me wrong, I’m no alkie or anything, but the past couple of days have been tough.” She shifted the glass, nails clacking. The one on the middle finger of her right hand had snapped off and stood out amongst the long ones. The kind of thing that might happen when one threw a rock through a window. “It’s chilled.”
Randi checked the time. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Barely noon. “No thanks.”
In front of the sofa sat a line-up of dogs, in various sizes, shapes and colors. All held in a down-stay, ears and eyes alert and focused on Mel. An Aussie, a sheltie, a greying German shepherd, an Irish setter, a wiry brown thing, a pug and a medium-sized generic-looking black dog. Seven of them.
Her mother’s hand flew to her cheek. “My word. They didn’t bark, didn’t jump up or anything. I feel like I’m at Madam Tussauds.”
Mel smiled. She didn’t seem put off her mother had just likened her dogs to wax figurines. “I put a lot of time into each and every one of my kids.”
Randi pointed to the small brown one with a bristly face. “What kind is that?”
“That’s Emma, my Border terrier.” Mel lowered her voice. “Don’t tell the others, but Emma’s my favorite. The Aussie is Cooper, the sheltie Angus, Gunner is the shepherd, Bailey the Irish setter, Polly the pug and the black mix is Hattie. Also known as an ‘All-American.’ I’m very proud of her heritage.”
Mel padded into the only kitchen Randi had ever seen that was smaller than hers. “Sure I can’t get you something? I have some blueberry pancake batter in the fridge. Wouldn’t take long to cook some up. I also have some wine.” She held up her glass with a sideways smile. “That, you already know.”
Randi’s stomach rumbled.
“We’re fine,” her mother said.
The interior of the mobile home was as immaculate as the exterior. Mel set her wine on the table. “Let me put the children on the back porch so there’s room for you two to sit.”
The children ambled out the sliding glass door in their established pecking order. No charging, no bumping, no snarling, no growling. Amazing. Randi had never observed such a well-behaved group. She’d seen dogs, solid individuals, toss obedience training to the wind when a pack was formed. Even Shane had been guilty of group warfare on more than one occasion.
Peering through the patio glass, careful not to touch it with their noses, the dogs waited politely for the moment Mel would choose to let them back inside.
Her mother whispered, “Maybe she drugs them.”
“Or they’re little humans in doggie suits.”
“Little humans are seldom so well-behaved.”
Mel came back in, shut the door and guzzled the rest of her wine. She refilled her glass from a box and carried it to the sofa, a glazed, unfocused look in her eyes.
Drunk people were a pain. Wore their emotional baggage on their sleeve. However, in this situation it could work in their favor, Randi hoped.
Her mother sat. “Looks like you have your hands full. Maybe it’s for the best Steve is keeping Zoom.”
The color drained from Mel’s cheeks. “Copeland has him?” She flopped against the back of the sofa. “God, I hate that guy. That’s so unfair.”
Her mother coughed. “This is a nice place. We heard your sister is traveling?”
Mel’s shoulders slumped. “Did she mention Sandy’s a neat freak? My dogs are clean, but she’s going to kill me when she hears what happened last night. They trashed the place, tracked dirt all over the carpet.”
“They?” Randi asked. “Who are they?”
Mel lifted her glass to the light and swirled the contents like she was checking for legs on a vintage Cabernet. “Somebody broke in.”
Her mother drew her head back. “With all these dogs?”
“I was out walking them. Late. About eleven-thirty. Gone for twenty minutes, tops.”
Randi looked around. “I don’t see any broken windows.” The bigger question was, how did Mel control seven dogs at the same time?
“I left the door unlocked, so I guess technically it wasn’t a break-in, but the sprinklers had been on and muddy footprints were tracked all the way to the bedroom. I panicked about the mess. Sandy’s doing me a favor letting me stay here, but sometimes I feel like I’m being watched, like she set up a camera to keep tabs on me.”
“What’d they take?”
“So far the only thing I’ve noticed was the mini-safe I kept under the bed, which is weird because Sandy has a ton of valuable shit—crystal, silver, and jewelry all over the place. None of it’s missing. I don’t know how they knew where I kept the safe.”
Randi chewed her lip. “I read under the bed is one of the first places thieves look.”
A well-known comedian had made fun of Mel’s safe placement, saying he was sure burglars were pleased when the homeowner conveniently ga
thered all their belongings and packed them into a handy carrying case. Thank you very much.
Mel lowered her eyelids. “I’ve never been known for my originality. Pretty stupid place to keep things when you think about it.”
Randi stole a glance at her mother. “Anything of value in the safe?”
Mel ticked off items on her fingers. “My passport, the pink-slip to my car, my birth certificate, a letter from Gina, and my baby teeth. Sucks. Now I’m going to have to re-apply for copies of that stuff.”
“What was in the letter?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t opened it.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t supposed to. Not unless something happened to her.”
Her mother scowled. “Well, something has and now you don’t have it. Did you call the police?”
Mel’s eyes sparked. “I don’t like cops and they don’t like me.”
Randi nodded. “Understood.” She used to think all cops were heartless and out to get her. Whenever she got pulled over in high school for some dumb teenage move behind the wheel, she pictured the worst, handcuffs and a jail cell.
Her mother clasped her hands in front of her like she was about to pray. “Forgive me for seeming crass, Mel, but I’m going to get right to the point.” She nodded at Randi, passing the buck.
“Uh…my mother and I think Gina’s death may not have been an accident.”
Mel wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, for starters, according to her family, Gina’s health was excellent.”
Mel’s fingers tightened around the glass. “By family, you mean Andrew and Valerie? Those two aren’t family. They’re leeches—bloodsuckers.”
Her mother shifted uncomfortably. “Did you see Gina yesterday, before she died?”
“No. I was home until I went to work in the afternoon.” Mel sloshed some wine onto her lap. “The autopsy will show a reason. Heart failure, or a brain thingy.”
Randi stood. “May I use your restroom?”
Mel pointed. “Down the hall and through my room.”
The bedroom must have been where Mel let it all hang out. Covers and pillows were flung everywhere and a shroud of dog hair covered the sheets. The closet door hung open. Silky dresses filled the racks. Randi couldn’t help but trickle her fingers along the fabric. At the bottom were rows of shoes. Pumps, sling backs and strappy sandals in every shade of the rainbow. Ferragamo, Chanel, Gucci, Jimmy Choo—pointy like they’d been stuck in a pencil sharpener. Mel seemed more like the athletic type than a fashion maven. This stuff likely belonged to her sister.
In the far corner by the headboard sat a decorative table. Randi hesitated. When the perfect opportunity to snoop stared you in the face, you couldn’t pass it up, even if you weren’t sure what you were looking for. She moved closer. The small round surface was topped with two candles, a vase with flowers and an incense burner. In front of that, a small plate cradled an apple. A box of matches lay on the bed.
Mel had said she was in the middle of something. Was this it? Some sort of ritual? A séance? A black handle protruded from beneath the plate. She pulled it out, gasping at the sight of a double-edged knife. She knew nothing of Wiccan rituals, but the blade didn’t look friendly. Maybe this was the reason the old guy was worried about his pet rabbit. She shoved the knife beneath the plate, the same way she found it.
The dimensions of the bathroom mimicked those inside a cruise ship Randi took to Cabo San Lucas years ago, where you could sit on the toilet and lean over the sink to brush your teeth at the same time. She flushed and washed her hands, leaving the water running as she cracked open the medicine cabinet: Advil, cotton balls, face wash, and a bottle of Percocet. Hmm. Painful dental work, perhaps? Minor surgery? Expired two years ago. Quantity thirty. Bottle was almost full, so…if Mel killed Gina, this bathroom wasn’t giving away how.
A cabinet slammed at the other end of the trailer, followed by a clink of glass and the rush of running water. Randi’s heart quickened. She scurried back to the living area.
“This may sound corny,” Mel was saying as Randi settled onto her spot on the sofa, “there was a bit of an age difference, obviously, and I know people wondered what we saw in each other, but Gina and I were connected on a deep spiritual level.” Mel lifted her chin. “She took me places I’d never thought possible. We learned tai chi together and kayaked in Alaska. It was pure heaven.”
Randi fully supported equal rights, but for some reason the image of Gina and Mel together made her feel like she’d just found a worm in her apple. “Was Gina a morning drinker?” Like you?
“No, not really. If she was nervous about something she had to do that day, she might throw some Bailey’s in her coffee, but that was the extent of it. Why?”
“I smelled alcohol after she collapsed.”
“She would have been anxious. That agility competition was a big ordeal for her.”
“Andrew said you were pretty upset when Gina broke it off. In fact, somebody chucked a rock through his window yesterday. He’s fairly certain it was you.”
A breeze picked up, tangling the branches of a weeping willow and bringing a wooden wind chime clattering to life. Mel got up and tottered to the kitchen. “Andrew’s got it wrong. I was the one who split up with Gina, not the other way around.”
“So you didn’t throw the rock?”
“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”
“Why did you call it off?” She wasn’t sure she believed Mel’s story but had to ask.
“She got all secretive and weird on me. I’m not into that. Which is why I have to confess, I lied to you two about something.” Mel stuck her head inside the fridge and retrieved the wine box. She set it on the counter, pumped the button then tilted the box, giving it a rap on the side for good measure. The wine trickled out a few drops at a time. After a lot of effort on Mel’s part, the box managed to produce a good three inches.
“I did see Gina yesterday. I wanted to talk to her and see Zoom. I miss him terribly.” She leaned against the counter and drained the contents of the glass in one fell swoop. “By the time I found Gina, she and Zoom were ready to go on course. I didn’t want him to be distracted by the sight of me, so I went to get a couple of dog collars I needed. There’s a vendor who sells these glow-in-the-dark ones and I figured I’d restock, but the line in front of his place was so long by the time I finished buying them, Gina had completed her run. A crowd gathered in the arena, but I didn’t think much of it. She always had quite the following. I didn’t know Gina was dead until Valerie called on my break at work yesterday.” She drummed her nails on the countertop. “Hell of a way to find out.”
CHAPTER NINE
The Sub King sat a block from the beach; it had virtually no parking and a heavy-duty black screen door that swung closed on your butt with a smack. The wall-to-wall carpeting, forest green in the corners, pea soup in the traffic areas, was dusted with a perpetual coating of sand, but the place always had a line because you couldn’t find a better sandwich west of I-5.
Hawaiian Island knickknacks lined the walls: Surfer-girl key chains, plumeria license plate borders, carved wooden turtles and an abundance of floral shirts, all of it pinned with paper price tags. Donna, the shop’s owner, a dark-haired, blue-eyed woman with a raucous, crow-like laugh, made the five-hour flight over the Pacific a couple times a year “In search of single men and good bargains too.”
Randi stood in line behind a group of construction workers, while her mother peeled off to grab a table. Ocean breezes swept through a window, stirring up the scent of sweet onions, salty pickles, fresh bread and roasted turkey. The queue moved along nicely, considering its length, and soon Randi faced the counter, ravenous, following their visit with Mel. “Chicken, bacon, avocado on a French roll, please.”
Donna gave her a questioning look. “Your usual? Half?”
“Whole this time. I’m splitting it with my mother. Oh—and a Dr
. Pepper for me and a lemonade for her.”
Donna nodded to the table in the corner. “That’s your mom? I thought she was your sister.”
“Don’t tell her that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“My lips are sealed.” Donna wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll bring your sandwich over when it’s ready.”
Randi thanked her, collected napkins and plastic silverware from a basket on the counter and carried them to the table. Arranging the items beside the plates made her think of Mel’s strange bedroom altar. “Mom, what if Mel put some kind of Wiccan spell on Gina, not necessarily to kill her, but it went haywire and ended up doing more damage than she intended?”
Her mother scoffed. “You don’t really believe in that stuff, do you? You’re the one who said Wiccans were harmless.”
“True…but I believe your thoughts direct your life. What if they can direct another person’s too?”
Lee Ann leaned back and folded her hands on the table. “Then I have a lovely piece of swampland in Florida I can sell you.”
“Very funny. My point is, that entire visit was strange, not just the set-up in Mel’s bedroom, which included a nasty-looking knife, but she was guzzling the wine. Not ordinary morning behavior, wouldn’t you agree?”
Her mother pressed her lips together.
Too late, Randi realized. She’d seen her dad three sheets to the wind before noon more times than she could count. Surely her mother had too. She quickly changed the subject. “What do you think was in the letter Gina wrote Mel? The one stolen along with the safe?”
Her mother’s face relaxed. “Anybody’s guess. As you recall, turns out I didn’t know Gina as well as I thought I did.”
“Love or money. That’s my guess. What else do people write about?”
Donna appeared with lunch. She set the food down and put her hands on her hips. “Nice to meet you Randi’s mother. Are you here on vacation?”
“I guess you could say that. I came for a dog agility trial over at the fairgrounds.”