by Lisa Wysocky
I hadn’t had much time to think of the possibility of Adam and me as an “us.” The chemistry was there, but we hadn’t spent enough time together to determine if there was enough to continue with it. There was too much else going on in both our lives. But, the thought of others gossiping about Adam and me as an actual couple, combined with the evening’s events, was altogether too much. My Irish temper, which I now realized had been simmering for some time, boiled over.
“First of all,” I replied, “I’ve never been on a date with Adam Dupree. In fact, I’ve spent a total of about three hours in his company. I don’t know what constitutes a couple in your mind, but I certainly need to spend considerably more than three hours with a man before I decide whether or not I like him.”
“Now, Miz Enright, uh, Miz Cat, don’t get all in a huff. It’s just that my Aunt Marybelle works over to the nursing home and says she saw you and Mr. Dupree hugging and holding hands. And then my cousin Sissy waits tables over to the Riverside Restaurant. I just been wondering. Seems to me if you’re hugging and holding hands and breaking bread together then maybe you’re an item.”
“Holy bells, the grapevine is just humming around here isn’t it? All right. You want to know how much of a couple Adam and I are? Here’s the deal. Monday I gave a riding lesson that included Glenda, and she disrupted the entire class with her theatrics. As I am sure you know by now, Glenda Dupree could be a royal bitch. After the class, I went to Adam’s office on Music Row in hopes that he could help me deal with Her Royal Heinie. He said the best way was just to go to Fairbanks and talk to her. As you know, I went over there because that’s when I realized Bubba was missing. Then the next day I found her. She was dead, but by God, I found her. You have that much in my statement.
“This morning I went to the nursing home to pay my condolences to Opal, Glenda’s mother. Adam was there. I didn’t know he was going to be there and he didn’t know I was going to be there. It was a difficult time. I don’t know if your Aunt Marybelle has mentioned it, but Opal’s mind is not what it used to be. She upset both Adam and me. We held hands as we walked out to the parking lot and gave each other a friendly hug. Then we went out for a late breakfast and we talked. That is the total extent of Adam’s and my relationship.”
“I see.”
“What do you mean, you see? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that I see the extent of your relationship now and it makes sense. He don’t seem your type anyhow. Flighty.” He glanced over at me and smiled. “To tell the truth, before I heard about you and Dupree I thought you might be interested in meeting my brother Brent.
I had to laugh, wondering what kind of impression I had made on Deputy Giles in the few days I’d known him that would make him want to introduce me to his brother.
“Brent’s real quiet. But independent. A little stubborn, but caring. He’s a veterinarian up in Clarksville. Small animals, though. He don’t treat horses.”
The deputy turned into my driveway, and wiggled around Jon’s barrier. The lights of my house were a very welcome sight. Lord, I was tired.
“I mean,” he continued, “if you’re not interested in Dupree, maybe you’d like to meet my brother.”
“You don’t like Adam, do you?” It wasn’t a question.
The deputy’s eyebrows went up. “Wouldn’t say that. Not at all. I just can’t get a feel for the guy, him being Hollywood and all. I ain’t ashamed to say that my family is country as a bowl of grits, so I got no common ground with Mr. Dupree. Nothing wrong with that. There’s lots of people I don’t share ground with. But I tell you what, you want to meet Brent, I’ll arrange it. You just let me know.”
I shook my head. “Thanks, Deputy. I do appreciate it. But I’ve got too many things swirling around in my head right now to make room for anyone else. Maybe later.”
He pulled the cruiser up to my front porch and put it into neutral. “Too bad. I think both of you’d hit it right off. I, ah, don’t suppose any of those things swirling around in your head have anything to do with the kid’s disappearance, or the lady’s murder?” He didn’t wait for me to answer before he continued. “I just was wondering if you maybe had happened on anything.”
I hesitated. I knew the question wasn’t an idle one.
“If you have come across something it sure would help me to hear about it. I told you Burns is making life difficult. He thinks you maybe had a hand in it, and I think everyone in that riding class of yours had something against the lady. The sheriff, he wants this case sewn up yesterday and he thinks staying on my ass is the way to get it done.”
He looked at me, and told me that the search warrant had been to recover clothes I had been wearing––clothes from the night I reported Bubba missing and the day I found Glenda. I’d already figured that out. My wardrobe was not so extensive that a few missing items would go unnoticed.
“They found blood on your boot. Blood that his doctor’s records say is of the same type as Bubba Henley.”
My heart once again began thudding in my chest. This time the rapid thumps in my chest were accompanied by hands that were clammy with cold. “I tripped over the cap,” I said in hot defense. “When I was outside Glenda’s house. I scraped my hand! The cap got stuck on my boot and I had to peel it off. Remember? I gave the cap to you. That’s how I found out Bubba was missing. I––”
“I know that. Calm down,” said the deputy as he placed a large hand on my arm. “I’m just telling you how the sheriff sees it. That cap, by the way, didn’t only test positive for the kid’s blood type. It tested positive for the lady’s as well.”
Deputy Giles and I sat there in silence for a minute or more while I took several deep breaths and processed all that information, then I got out as he he shifted the car into reverse.
“Well,” he said as I was closing the door, “if you run across anything, it’d sure help me out.”
The car began to roll.
“Deputy, wait.”
The car stopped.
“You were willing to share your information with me and I know you didn’t have to do that. Maybe I have run across something. Some things. I don’t know. Do you want to come in? I at least owe you a cup of cocoa for the lift home.”
The smile on the deputy’s face was almost enough to salvage my day.
21
BEFORE I COULD SPILL MY GUTS to Deputy Giles I had to check on the horses. I had been absent so much recently and had earlier told Jon that I’d take care of the evening walk-through tonight, even though it was his night to do that.
With the deputy in tow I opened the barn door to the soft rustling and munching that I associate with horses settling in for the night. If I had my druthers, I’d keep all the horses turned out. A horse, after all, is a horse, and does best in its natural environment. When the weather was warmer, and the ground not so slippery, the horses in my barn did spend time outside. In the summer, they often were turned out at night, when it was cooler and when the sun wouldn’t fade their lustrous hair coats. But this past week had been so wet that it was too dangerous to turn the horses out. They were show horses after all. One playful slip in the mud could keep a horse out of competition for a year or more.
Tonight the ten horses in the barn all stuck their heads into the aisle when we entered. All except a striking three-year-old palomino filly named Tater. Tater was a western pleasure hopeful and had come in after the world show in November. Jon and I had put about eighty days of training on her––enough to know neither her gaits nor her temperament were suitable for the show ring. Her trot was too choppy and her mentality was more like that of a yearling. She needed more time than most horses to grow up and become a responsible adult. I’d tried to tell her owner that before I accepted her, had tried to turn her away. Her owner was a steady client of many years, however, so I finally said I’d give her a try.
I explained all this to Deputy Giles who looked uncomfortable as he stood in the center of the aisle. I checked on Tater, w
ho was sound asleep, stretched out diagonally in her stall, snoring. All good there. Then I went into each of the other stalls to be sure the automatic waterers were working and that none of the horses had managed to cut, bang, or scrape themselves since Jon fed them a few hours ago. You’d be surprised at the damage a horse can do to him-or herself, even when there is nothing to get hurt on.
“Um, is this horse okay?” The deputy was standing in front of Sally Blue’s stall and I walked up the aisle to join him. Sally was staring directly at the deputy. Then she dropped her head to the ground and pawed. She pawed for about ten seconds, and then repeated the process of staring, then pawing. It was a much stronger, firmer paw than horses usually use to move bedding around before they lie down, but I explained that was what she most likely was doing.
I pulled a stethoscope from my equine first aid kit and listened to Sally’s stomach. The absence of typical stomach sounds, especially when combined with dull eyes and sweating, could mean colic. Horses are not able to throw up so when they get a tummy ache, it can be a serious thing. But Sally’s eyes were bright, her coat was dry, and her stomach was gurgling as strongly as a babbling brook. She was fine. Physically anyway. I did give Sally a curious glance over my shoulder as we exited the barn, though.
Hank met us at the door to the house with the stick he had been carrying around for several days. I had quite a difficult time explaining to Hank that if he wanted to come in, the stick had to stay out. In the end he stayed out with the stick, but soon set up such a howling and moaning that I gave up and let both of them in.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a big howl on such a little dog,” said the deputy.
“That’s why I named him Hank, after the country singer, Hank Williams. They both have that country moan in their howls. Maybe I should see about getting Hank an agent.”
The deputy shook his head, not even bothering to reply. But there was a quirk at the end of one side of his mouth that led me to believe he was trying to hide a smile.
I gathered cups, saucers, and spoons––a procedure I’d been doing so often lately I was beginning to feel like Miss Susie Homemaker. Now there was a frightening thought. We settled at the kitchen table with my third dose of hot chocolate for the evening. I wanted to add a large splash of coffee-flavored brandy to mine, but thought I’d better not tempt the deputy with such a delicacy while he was on duty.
I didn’t know where to begin, so for lack of anything else I pulled Glenda’s notebook from my pocket and placed it on the table between us. Then I told him everything, from more details of the scene with the riding class and Sally Blue finding the notebook in my pocket, to the strange meeting with Opal Dupree, Carole’s find at the library, the encounter with Frog, and Darcy’s investigations on the Internet.
As my grandma used to say, “letting the cat out of the bag is a whole lot easier than putting it back in.” I tried not to squirm as the deputy scowled at me, but I couldn’t quite pull it off. Guess he’d be having second thoughts about introducing me to his brother.
“You mean to tell me that a horse, that horse right out there in the barn that was staring at me just now, is responsible for finding this notebook?” he finally exclaimed.
I nodded.
“Now how in hell am I supposed to tell Sheriff Burns that I need to question a horse? Tell me that, huh. Tell me just how I’m supposed to go about doing that?”
There really wasn’t an answer to his question, so I just shook my head and bit my lip––but whether it was to keep from laughing or crying, I couldn’t honestly tell you.
“Well,” he said after a long period of silence, “I can tell you right now I’d like to take your silly ass and throw it in the lockup for your own protection, if nothing else. Why on earth didn’t you tell me all this earlier? Especially the part about the notebook?”
Deputy Giles looked unhappier by the minute. “I’ve also been wondering when you were going to clue me in on your version of the details of the big barn fight. Do you have any idea, any idea at all, what Burns will say when I tell him you were trying to stop the deceased from slandering you, and now you’ve got her private notebook?”
He gave me another very dark look, which I did my level best to ignore.
“And then there’s the kid. Bubba Henley,” he continued. “You know who saw him last and where. You know all this. Why you? That’s what Burns will say. Why do you know stuff no one else seems to know?”
“Give me a break!” My Irish temper was rising again and I made no attempt to stop it. “In all fairness, I learned about Bubba’s noon stroll through the fence just this evening and believe me, I wasn’t in a position to drop everything and say, ‘I gotta go call the cops about this.’ Secondly, yes, a horse did find the notebook in my pocket yesterday morning, but I just this morning remembered I had it, so it’s not like I sat on information forever. And thirdly, don’t tell Sheriff Big Jim squat about me right now. Just tell him you heard rumors from reliable sources.”
And he had very reliable sources. Deputy Giles had talked to Robert Griggs today and pulled Darcy out of class. Jon mentioned that he had talked with the deputy, too, and I’d bet my spare tire that he talked to Carole as well. With the possible exception of Robert, those sources were as reliable as any I could think of.
“Nothing says you have to tell Burns I told you anything,” I fumed. “The fact that you now have the notebook should be enough. Lastly, Deputy, I didn’t have to tell you any of this and if I’d had one iota of common sense I wouldn’t have. I don’t need you to yell at me. This day has been rough enough anyway.”
As quickly as it had risen, my anger subsided, washed away in a sea of mixed emotion. “Besides,” I added, “even if I happen to be a suspect in Burns’s mind––and I realize that I am––this case is going to look at quite a few people before it’s all said and done. Isn’t it?”
Another thing my grandma used to say was: “never miss a good chance to shut up.” This was my chance.
I spent a full minute fighting the fidgets before the deputy began to nod his head slowly.
“So,” I continued cautiously, “with all the new information I just gave you, Burns will have enough to turn his attention to other people and maybe even solve this case correctly.”
He nodded. “Maybe. We talked with your students today.”
“And?”
“Can’t rule anyone out, but that Griggs, he’s kinda cold. There’s something there. Don’t know if it has to do with the lady, but there’s something.”
“What about Carole?”
“Observant. Good memory. Pleasant. Dunno.”
He didn’t bring up Darcy and I didn’t have the courage to ask. Surely she didn’t have anything to do with this.
Deputy Giles swirled his chocolate. “Miz Cat, I appreciate the info. Truly, I do. But you gotta realize that it is your duty as a citizen of this fine county to turn this stuff over to us. You got to keep me more informed. See, the time Frog saw Bubba confirms what we already suspected, and it helps pinpoint the time of the murder. And,” he added, rubbing a big hand over his face, “in all fairness, I do have to tell Burns about all this.”
It was my turn to frown.
“And I will tell him. Just as soon as he gets back from that police convention up to St. Louis.”
I stared and felt a wave of shaky relief wash over me.
“Burns left town about noon, just after he finished chewing my ass for not hauling your ass in. Won’t be back until Saturday.”
“And then what? What happens on Saturday?”
“I’ll tell him I’ve had you under surveillance. He’ll like that because he likes us to use those big, long words––thinks no one else in the county can understand ’em, like we’re talking code or something. Beyond that, well, hopefully something will come to light before then.”
I then asked the deputy something I’d been thinking too much about in the past twenty-four hours. “Tell me the truth, Deputy. Do I need
a lawyer?”
His eyes were solid on mine for a few seconds before he said, “It wouldn’t hurt to have one in mind. But, in the meantime… . ”
The deputy pulled out a sheaf of papers. My statement. I looked it over, noticed and ignored the omission about the scene at the barn, signed it, and pushed it back across the table.
“That out of the way,” he said, “I also need to tell you that the medical examiner is finished with the body. Funeral is tomorrow at noon.”
“Tomorrow!”
“Family wanted it over and done with. Mrs. Dupree, Mrs. Opal that is, muddled as she is, still has a lot of pull out here.”
He headed for the door, notebook in hand.
“Uh, Deputy? Martin? You … you don’t think I killed her, do you?”
He turned, and his beefy hand once again rubbed his face. “No, Miz Cat. I don’t. No rhyme or reason for it, but a man’s gotta trust what his gut tells him. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you now, I don’t believe you had anything to do with it.” He sighed. “But that don’t mean I can convince Burns of it. He’s looking for a conviction and that election’s coming up quicker every day. Wish me loads of luck. That’s all I can say, ’cuz you’re going to need every bit of it.”
I wished him luck in persuading the sheriff. But as I watched his taillights disappear up River Road, I didn’t feel much luck surrounding either Deputy Giles or me.
“Grrrraarrffff,” said Hank, the stick still in his mouth. “Grrrraarrffff.”
“Yes, Hank,” I said absently, giving him a pat on the head. “That’s exactly my thought, too.”
Cat’s Horse Tip #11
“The sequence of footfalls for the horse at the walk is left hind, left front, right hind, right front.”
22
WESTERN HILLS CEMETERY IS ENCLOSED ON three sides by a four-foot stone wall that was most likely a 1930s WPA project. The wall had seen better days, but they were long, long ago. The fourth side of the property featured a slightly lower wall with a wide gap on the left. The gap was bisected by a gravel drive that wound through several side roads and eventually circled around and led back out to Highway 100.