Sleeping Dogs Lie wfm-1

by Sharon Henegar

  “Not true, officer, she threatened me with the gun. She was pointing it at me when these people—” Carl waved a hand at Kay and Bob—“showed up.” He rose to his feet and brushed leaves from the still immaculate creases in his slacks. What did he do, I wondered—run a line of glue down the inside?

  Ambrose and Ed had been standing quietly to the side. Ed looked like he was watching amoebas splitting in a petri dish. Ambrose spoke in his most disdainful drawl. “Louisa shot someone? I think not, dear boy.”

  Carl didn’t seem to appreciate being a dear boy. “Who are these people?” he burst out, his waspish tone offended.

  Ambrose looked down his nose at Carl, but it was the patrolman who spoke. “I am Officer George Smith. And you are?”

  Carl brushed a couple of leaves off his sleeve before answering. “Carl Walsh. I happen to be the president of the Trader’s Bank and Trust in High Cross, and I also happen to be a close friend of the High Cross chief of police, Tony Saretta.”

  “Mm-hmm,” the patrolman intoned, looking him up and down.

  “I demand you arrest this insane woman immediately.”

  Officer Smith looked Carl up and down. “What’s that mark on your wrist?”

  Carl was silent.

  “I had to bite him to get the gun away from him,” I said. Ambrose’s eyebrows shot up, and Officer Smith’s impassive face gave a brief twitch.

  The look on my cousin’s face was pure admiration. “You bit him? Way to go, Louisa,” she said.

  Ed said, “I hope he doesn’t have any serious diseases. You didn’t get any of his blood on you, did you, Louisa?”

  Carl turned red and started to sputter.

  “Uh huh.” Officer Smith studied my face. “Okay. We’ll find out more about that later. First, what’s this about someone being shot?”

  Carl opened his mouth but I spoke first.

  “It's Bonnie. He shot her down by the lake. He said he was going to dump both our bodies.”

  “Did you check her vitals?”

  “I—I was up above on a bluff and saw them. I tried to get away but I ended up here, and he was pointing the gun at me.”

  Carl shook his head, looking disgusted. He opened his mouth to speak again but this time was interrupted by the officer.

  “First things first. Let’s go,” Officer Smith commanded. He made a sweeping motion with his right hand. “Take me to the body.”

  “I don’t know how to get there,” I told him.

  “My cousin never knows where she is,” Kay added helpfully.

  I frowned at her. “Thanks a lot.” I looked around. “I think it's over that way.” I pointed.

  Officer Smith pursed his lips. “Not if she was shot by the lake. It's in the opposite direction.”

  “You’re quite right, officer.” Carl radiated pious distaste. “My poor sister-in-law is down here.” He started off, Jack at his heels growling softly. Ed followed them, then Kay, and I tailgated her, Emily Ann at my side. Officer Smith was behind me, and Bob and Ambrose brought up the rear. I looked around at our motley group stringing through the woods and thought that all we needed was a couple of snare drums and a tuba. Carl, with his indignant strut, made a dandy drum major.

  The adrenalin that had carried me through my encounter with Carl dissipated. Fatigue crashed down on me. I glanced over my shoulder. Officer Smith kept his hand on the gun in the holster strapped to his side. Of course as soon as I took my eyes off the ground in front of me I stumbled over a rock and nearly fell, but the patrolman leapt forward to grab my arm and keep me on my feet. Bob came to walk behind me, his hand at my waist as he steered me around obstacles.

  Carl had to struggle to push through the trees and vines and myanumma bushes. Once he let go of a branch just a little too soon and it whipped back into Kay’s face.

  “Hey,” she growled at him, “do that again and you’ll be sorry.” Her expression must have convinced him of her sincerity, or perhaps it was Jack’s curled lip and barely audible snarl. He took more care after that.

  Officer Smith muttered into the radio on his shoulder, I assumed calling for backup. I thought I heard something about hurrying. Suddenly he raised his voice.

  “Hey, you’re headed away from the lake,” he said sternly.

  Carl managed to look startled. “Sorry. I'm not used to tramping around in the woods,” he said. “Back this way?” He shoved his way through the underbrush, leading us downhill. “I think it's clearing ahead.”

  The ground leveled out, the trees thinned, and I could see water lapping at the shore. We followed Carl around a curve, and there was Bonnie’s body.

  I had seen her fall on her back when Carl shot her, but now she lay face down, an ominous pool of blood soaking into the earth under her. The cheerful red plaid of her shirt was stained brown with gore. A trail of blood led to the spot where she had confronted Carl.

  Kay pushed Carl aside, sprinted to Bonnie, and flung herself down to feel for a pulse. “She’s alive!” she crowed, her face split in a wide smile as she looked back at us.

  “And I am,” Bonnie said in wonder from her hospital bed. Her smile was as wide as Kay’s had been. “Thanks to you all, I'm alive. Bob, kidnapping you may have been the luckiest thing I’ve ever done.”

  The smile lines around his eyes crinkled. “Well, shucks, ma’am, it weren’t nothin’,” he drawled and tipped an imaginary hat. “Pretty darned lucky for me too.” We were all silent, thinking about what might have happened. If Bonnie had not snatched Bob, if Carl had found him home alone, Bob would have been armed with nothing more than a low-slung dog. Though having seen Jack in action, I thought that could have been enough.

  The door to Bonnie’s room opened and Ambrose backed in. He turned, and I saw that he was carrying a tray. “Hello, everyone,” he greeted us. “I was here yesterday when they brought Bonnie a meal, and I thought I would spare her another round of gruel and jello.” He raised the tray slightly.

  We shifted to make a path for him through the room. He set the tray on the rolling cart by Bonnie’s bed and swung it over her lap. The tray was exquisite, wooden with an inlaid geometric design of silver. On it rested a china plate decorated in an old-fashioned design of blue and yellow flowers, a yellow linen napkin, heavy shining silverware, and a little nosegay of scented purple violets. The plate held a variety of steamed baby vegetables, a pale green dipping sauce flecked with herbs in a little crystal bowl, and a fragrant fresh bread roll, the brown top shiny with butter. My stomach growled at the sight.

  Bonnie lifted the violets to her nose, breathed in and smiled. “This looks wonderful,” she said to Ambrose. She reached out and pressed his hand. “Thank you so much. I think one more hospital dinner might have finished off what Carl started.” She spread the napkin on her lap and picked up her fork. “I hope you’ll excuse me, but this is too tempting. And it feels so marvelous to be alive and hungry.”

  “We’ve been telling Bonnie what happened after she was shot,” Kay told Ambrose.

  “We should let her dine in peace,” Bob added. “She’s much better, but we mustn’t tire her.”

  She hastily swallowed the bite she’d just taken. “Oh, but tell me what’s happening now,” she said. “Is he still in jail?” When she spoke of Carl, she didn’t need to use his name. Her voice took on an edge that could cut glass.

  I nodded. “They made a case that he’s a flight risk.”

  Kay said, “His lawyer tried to argue that Carl’s a pillar of the community, but the judge looked at how much money he has and decided to keep him in jail.”

  “Quite right,” Bonnie sniffed. “Of course he would run away. He would set up a new identity somewhere else and ruin other lives.”

  “That’s assuming he could have sneaked past the news media,” Bob said. He looked at me and shook his head. “No wonder you were leery of me when you thought I might be a reporter.”

  I smiled at him. “You considered my reaction exaggerated, admit it.”

  “I
don’t know if Bob did, but I thought you were nuts,” my loving cousin said frankly. “I mean, I knew you’d been hurt by Roger and that you’re, well, sensitive—”

  “Thin skinned, touchy, you can say it,” I told her.

  Kay nodded. “Okay, thin skinned and touchy. But geez, this has been a zoo.” She turned to Bonnie. “They put guards on your door right away to keep the media out. Did you know that by the time the ambulance got you to the hospital, reporters were already here?”

  “I'm afraid I wasn’t paying much attention at the time,” Bonnie said. “Is that why everyone stayed away for days? The news media?”

  “That, plus you weren’t ready to entertain,” Ambrose said. “But eat your nice veggies and you’ll be better in no time.”

  “The media scrum wasn’t just here,” I said. “Ambrose rode with you in the ambulance, and another patrol car came for Carl, and the rest of us went to the Willow Falls Police Station in Officer Smith’s car. Half a dozen news vans arrived before us.”

  “They love things like a bank president running amok, shooting people in the woods and being bitten by one of his intended victims,” Kay said.

  Bob added, “Just when we thought things were cooling off, word got out that some of the High Cross police might be involved. And they were off again.”

  Kay began to laugh. “You should have seen Louisa on the news that first night. They caught her getting out of the patrol car. She had blood smeared on her face, and mud, and leaves in her hair.”

  “While Carl was all neat and clean on the film, and he still had those obnoxious creases in his pants,” I said bitterly. “I looked far more evil than he did.”

  Bob looked at me. “Creases?”

  “At least Emily Ann looked beautiful,” I added, giving Bob an ‘I'll tell you later’ look.

  “And now,” Kay said, “they are talking about a movie of the week loosely based on what happened.”

  “Loosely?” Bonnie asked.

  “Apparently the real thing wasn’t cinematic enough,” I explained. “Probably no good camera angles among the myanumma bushes.”

  “But the good news is that the store got so much press,” Kay went on, “that we’ve sold so much I may have to close for a couple of weeks to find more inventory. And Ambrose and Bob have more business than they can handle. Even that oak monstrosity in the restaurant in High Cross is famous.”

  A tap on the door. Officer George Smith stuck his head in, noted the group in the room, and entered. He held the door for Ed to follow. The room was as full as the proverbial sardine can. Bob and I retreated to the window and leaned hip-to-hip on the sill. Ed threaded his way to Bonnie and shook her hand. “You’re looking much better,” he told her with a crinkly smile, and I saw Bonnie squeeze his hand and smile in return. I began to understand what Kay saw in him. That smile was disarming.

  Officer Smith shook hands with Ambrose and Kay, and smiled across the room and nodded to Bob and me. “Good, you’re all here,” he said. “Ed and I were going to start with Mrs. Becker, and I planned to call the rest of you in the morning.”

  “What’s up?” Bob asked.

  The officer looked at Bonnie. “We just heard from the detectives working on your case.”

  All eyes were riveted on him.

  “They’ve broken Walsh’s alibi for the night his stepson died.”

  Bonnie’s quick intake of breath was loud in the silence that followed. Ed took up the narrative. “He claimed to have spent the night in a hotel in Kansas City. He had dinner with a young woman, and took her back to his room. We think he drugged her dinner. She passed out shortly after they went upstairs.”

  Officer Smith nodded. “We’ve ascertained that Carl rented a motorcycle under an assumed name earlier in the day, and that’s how he got back to High Cross in the night.”

  “A motorcycle!” Bonnie exclaimed.

  “With the helmet on, no one he passed on the road would recognize him.”

  “Then how—?” I began.

  “The guy at the motorcycle shop picked his picture out of half a dozen that we showed him, and the woman he took to his room will testify that she doesn’t remember if he was there all night.” Officer Smith gave a satisfied smile.

  “And a police report was filed that night,” Ed added. “One of the neighbors complained about a dog making a lot of noise at Walsh’s house.” He looked at Bob. “Your dog must have done his best to get to Walsh, but he was locked out of the house.”

  I swallowed hard at the thought of Jack futilely trying to get into the house to protect Ian that night. It was too vivid, and I pushed the image away. If only he could have saved Ian’s life, as he undoubtedly had saved mine.

  Officer Smith’s voice was sober as he went on, “The DA thinks she has a real good chance of convicting him of Ian’s death at least, as well as your attempted murder, Mrs. Becker. They are still working on the night your sister died, but we’ll be able to put him away even without that.”

  Bonnie carefully laid her fork down beside her plate and sat very still, her face tilted away from my view. She looked back, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Oh. God. Oh, thank you, George. And you, Ed. Nothing can bring back my sister or my nephew. But the pain of knowing he’d killed them and gotten away with it was even worse.”

  I felt my own tears about to spill over. I blinked hard. Kay reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table and handed a couple to Bonnie. Ed took the box from her and gave it to me. He gave me a little pat on the shoulder, which threatened my composure even more. I blew my nose harder than I intended, and the honking noise raised a relieved laugh from everyone. “Oops, sorry,” I said. “That’s great news.” I handed the tissue box back to Ed.

  “Get ready for more reporters,” he said, and Officer Smith nodded. “I understand the DA is planning a press conference for tomorrow morning.”

  “Here we go again,” remarked Kay. “I can hardly wait to see the movie they make out of this thing.”

  “I doubt if we’ll recognize it,” I said.

  Kay nodded. “Carl’s rented Kawasaki will become a roaring Harley, and the actor playing him will have to have long hair so it can stream out dramatically in the moonlight.”

  Ed grinned at the image. He turned to Bonnie, who suddenly looked exhausted. “Hey, you need to rest,” he said. “You’re still pretty pale.”

  “I'm all right,” she said staunchly.

  “You need to rest,” he said again.

  Officer Smith said, “They’ll be here from the DA’s office here tomorrow to talk to you.” Bonnie nodded, and sighed.

  Ed turned to my cousin. “You ready to go, Kay?”

  “Go?” I inquired, giving Kay a look over the tops of my glasses. Her expression was particularly bland.

  “Ed invited me to dinner,” she said, picking up her purse.

  “How nice.” I kept my tone dry to keep from laughing.

  “Yes. We have some things to talk about.” She went to Bonnie and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I'll be back tomorrow,” she promised, and she and Ed were out the door.

  “We need to be going, too,” George said. He was looking at Ambrose. “I was able to get those theatre tickets we talked about, and we have a reservation for dinner. Mrs. Becker, good luck with the DA tomorrow. I hope I'll see you soon.”

  Ambrose smiled and waved to us as he went through the door, closely followed by George. Bonnie and Bob and I looked at each other.

  “Well,” I said. And couldn’t think of anything to add.

  Bonnie nodded. “This is turning out to be the proverbial ill wind,” she said, “blowing more good than I would ever have thought possible.”

  I looked from Bob to Bonnie and promised, “I'll pry all the interesting details out of Kay and Ambrose tomorrow.”

  “We need to be going too,” Bob told Bonnie. “We have to feed the dogs, not to mention ourselves.” He turned toward the door, then stopped. “Oh, I just remembered. One loose end hasn’t been tied up
.”

  Bonnie and I both looked at him.

  “We still don’t know who Trixie is,” he explained.

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “Frankly, it’s driving me crazy. Do you mind if I use the phone? Her number will probably be busy, but I might as well try it one more time.”

  “Be my guest,” said Bonnie, who had heard about the matchbook and the elusive Trixie. “I'm as curious as anyone.”

  Bob sat down in the room’s single chair and pulled the phone on the bedside table closer to him. He dialed Trixie’s number quickly; we had all memorized it in the past few days from trying it repeatedly. As Bob had said, so far it had always been busy. I was convinced it was lying off the hook on a floor somewhere in an abandoned building. This time, however, a big smile soon creased his face.

  “It’s ringing!” he hissed at Bonnie and me. He sat up straighter and tightened his grip on the receiver. “Hello? Yes, this is Bob Richardson. May I speak to Trixie, please? Oh, good, I’m so glad to have gotten hold of you. Your line seems to be busy all the time…Say, do you mind if I put you on the speakerphone? I wear a hearing aid and it's easier to use the phone that way…Thanks.”

  Bonnie and I looked at each other. Hearing aid? “Great excuse to let us listen,” she whispered.

  Apparently Trixie agreed, and Bob touched the button to turn on the speaker. “Can you hear me okay now?”

  “I sure can.” The woman’s voice held a country sound. I could imagine her sitting at a farmhouse kitchen table covered by a red checked cloth. “I'm sorry, could you tell me who you are again?”

  I perched beside Bonnie on the edge of her bed. We made shushing gestures at each other.

  “My name is Bob Richardson. You don’t know me, but several days ago, someone left a matchbook at my house with your name and phone number written inside the cover…”

  I could hear the instant defensiveness in her tone. “Well, and just what did you think you’d find when you called the number? Just ‘cause a woman gives her number to someone doesn’t mean—”

  “Oh, no, please,” Bob jumped in. “I really didn’t make any assumptions. I’m trying to figure out who the heck had been in my house and left these matches. They’re from a bar I've never been to.”