“Yes, my friend Liz Dawson was there, too. She heard him.”
“She’ll confirm that?”
“I know she’ll confirm that the colonel said he’d let his lawyer handle it because that’s exactly what happened,” I snapped. Wesson was beginning to irritate me as much as his partner.
“All right, Laurel. Please understand that I’m just doing my job. You may know these people or think you know them, but I need to check and confirm all the information we receive.”
Now I felt as though the detective were giving me a lecture. I could feel my face turning red again, the second time in only a few minutes. The same man who’d flustered me earlier infuriated me now.
“If that’s all you want, I’ll be going,” I announced and, fuming, I flew out the front door without waiting for his reply. I could hear him calling good-bye, but I didn’t acknowledge it.
That went well, I told myself sarcastically, as I stowed my suitcase in my trunk and headed for home, still angry with Wesson for making me feel like a fool. Although I couldn’t deny my growing attraction to him, the detective had implied that I’d been less than honest when he and his partner had interviewed me the first time, and I didn’t appreciate it.
My anger with the detective dissipated the second Bear greeted me at the door, holding his hard rubber ball in his mouth and dancing around me excitedly. Clearly, it was doggie playtime, but I had no idea when he’d sneaked the ball out of his toy box. He knew he was supposed to play fetch outside.
“Bear, no playing ball in the house,” I scolded mildly, but it was impossible to be cross with my playful Lab, especially as he raced eagerly toward the patio door. I followed him onto the patio, and he whipped his head toward me, tossing the ball at my feet. Ready for his favorite retriever game, he ran to the far side of the yard and waited for me to throw him the ball. Obliging him, I tossed it his way, and he ran to fetch it, then joyfully loped toward me. After a brief tug-of-war, he allowed me to take the ball from him, and we continued the game until I tired of it. Not surprisingly, I was always the one who tired of it first; Bear probably could have gone on chasing the ball for hours, but I hadn’t eaten anything all day except a microwaved frozen waffle, and I was hungry.
Rummaging in my almost-bare refrigerator netted a couple of frozen pizzas, some deli tuna salad that was long past its prime, and the package of frozen waffles I’d opened for breakfast. Not counting numerous condiments, iced tea, and bottled water. I always had plenty of those on hand. What I frequently didn’t have was much real food. Unlike my mom, my aunt, and my cousin Tracey, I hadn’t inherited the family cooking gene. I tossed the past-its-prime tuna salad into the garbage disposal, threw away the container, and popped one of the frozen pizzas in the oven. Still panting from his exercise, Bear followed me hopefully around the kitchen, but I made him wait until the pizza had baked before giving him a couple of carrot sticks and a slice of an apple. After downing half the pizza in record time, I wrapped the rest in foil and stowed it in the refrigerator for dinner.
Realizing that I’d been so frazzled that I’d forgotten to text Tracey after my run-in with Wesson, I fished my cell phone out of my purse and quickly sent her a message asking when she expected to arrive home. Tracey had taken a few days off work to join her parents, Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bill, on a short trip to the Ozarks, ending in Branson, Missouri, where my uncle planned to finalize arrangements with the owner of the Show-Me Gallery to represent his wood carvings. Like my parents, Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bill lived in Seattle and had been none too happy when their only daughter had moved to Iowa, but frequent trips back and forth had mollified them somewhat. Knowing that the trio would be sightseeing most of the time, I’d kept my texts to Tracey short and benign, mentioning only that I’d catch her up on all the community happenings when they arrived home.
An hour after I texted Tracey, my phone beeped, signaling the arrival of a text message. Texting from the art gallery, Tracey said that she and her parents planned to go to an early dinner with the gallery’s owner before driving back to Center City in the evening. They wouldn’t arrive at Tracey’s house until after midnight, and Tracey suggested that we all go out to a Sunday champagne brunch the next day. I agreed to meet them at Tracey’s around noon. I was eager to see my aunt and uncle and to find out more about Uncle Bill’s burgeoning artistic endeavors.
I didn’t plan to tell Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bill about the crime wave in Hawkeye Haven, especially since I knew the news would undoubtedly upset them. They had always contended that their little girl Tracey and I should never have moved away from Seattle. In fact, I planned to tell Tracey what had happened in Hawkeye Haven while she and her parents had vacationed, and, hopefully, we could keep them from listening to the local news so that they wouldn’t find out. The last thing Tracey and I needed was more urging to leave Center City and move back to Seattle. I was sure that Victor’s murderer had targeted him specifically, so I doubted that Tracey and I were in any real danger. I really didn’t think there was a serial killer running around loose in Hawkeye Haven.
However, the attack on Bessie puzzled me, but the possibility that Bessie’s gun had been the weapon used to kill Victor puzzled me even more.
If my aunt and uncle found out about the attacks, they were bound to be horrified. If possible, I wanted to make sure that didn’t happen.
Chapter 9
Promptly at noon the next day, I parked in front of Tracey’s house, but before I reached the front sidewalk, Aunt Ellen burst from the front door and ran to greet me. Her enthusiastic bear hug all but knocked the wind out of me. Aunt Ellen is a physically strong woman who teaches exercise classes and lifts weights for fun in her spare time.
“Great to see you, Aunt Ellen,” I said when she released me from the bone-crushing greeting. “How long has it been?”
“Laurel McMillan, you know darn well it’s been over a year since we’ve seen you.”
“Yes, it’s been too long,” I agreed. I didn’t dare tell her how much I missed being close to my parents and all my other relatives and friends who still live in Seattle. She and my mother are sisters, and when it comes to nagging their children, they’re both champs. They never tire of telling Tracey and me that we should move back to Seattle. Despite how often I yearned for Seattle, I felt enough at home in Center City to want to stay, and whenever I visited Seattle, my heart broke all over again, remembering Tim and our life together there. No, I thought, putting distance between Seattle and me felt like the right thing to do.
I’d barely recovered from Aunt Ellen’s crushing hug when Uncle Bill appeared and enveloped me in another.
“Laurel, we’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Uncle Bill. How’ve you been?”
“Great!” he boomed. Uncle Bill had never been known as the shy, retiring type. “Tracey, are you ready to go yet?” he yelled.
“In a minute, Dad!” Tracey called.
“Laurel, why don’t you see if you can hurry her up?” Uncle Bill suggested.
“Sure.” I tapped on Tracey’s bedroom door. “Trace?”
“Almost ready. I just need to find my necklace.” Tracey rummaged in the carved wooden jewelry box on the top of her dresser. “Dad gets so impatient whenever we’re going out to eat. You’d think he never ate anything at home.” Of course, we both knew that was far from the truth.
“Here’s what I’ve been looking for, but I can’t get the chain untangled,” Tracey exclaimed, holding up a delicate gold-chain necklace bearing a tiny initial T pendant. “Mom gave me this necklace for Christmas last year, and I’m sure she’d like to see me wear it.”
“Here, let me see.” I held out my hand, and Tracey gave me the necklace. I worked at untangling the chain while Tracey fluffed her long, blonde hair and tucked a curl behind her ear.
“There, got it,” I said, handing her the necklace.
“Tracey!” her dad bellowed. “We’re going to leave without you!” I grinned because it reminded me
of when we were teenagers. Uncle Bill was the same impatient guy he had always been, but beneath the bluster, everyone in his family knew that he was just a great big softie.
I put my hand on Tracey’s arm and motioned for her not to leave.
“Just one more minute, Dad; I’m almost ready,” Tracey called.
“Uh, Tracey, I have an idea,” I said. “You won’t believe what’s happened here in Hawkeye Haven since you left for your trip, but if your parents find out about it, I know it will upset them. Maybe we can keep them from hearing about it. I need to tell you what you’ve missed, but it might be better if you can keep them from watching the local news tonight. I know they have an early flight in the morning, so they’re not likely to watch the late news before you take them to the airport.”
“Good grief, Laurel! Hawkeye Haven made the news? What’s going on?”
“Tracey!” Uncle Bill hollered again.
“Tell you what. Why don’t I fill you in after brunch? I know Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bill want to see that new sci-fi movie that’s playing at the mall, and we can talk while they’re at the show.”
“Okay, I can’t wait to hear what’s happened, but we’d better go now before Dad has a cow,” Tracey said. “Coming!” she yelled, almost as loudly as her father. The old cliché that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree might apply, I thought.
“You look lovely, dear,” Aunt Ellen told Tracey, as we stepped into the living room. “You too, Laurel. Such a pretty sundress. You girls don’t look a bit older than you did in high school.”
Aunt Ellen dabbed her eyes with a tissue, and realizing that twenty years had passed since our high school graduation, I felt a little bit misty myself, thinking about all that had happened in those twenty years and how Tracey and I had come to live more than a thousand miles away from the rest of our family.
Oblivious to nostalgia, Uncle Bill urged, “Let’s get this show on the road, girls. Who’s driving?”
“I’ll drive,” I volunteered. “The restaurant’s not too far from here, and it’s right in the mall, so you won’t have far to go for your movie. We’ll be there in a few minutes. You’ll like the buffet, Uncle Bill. There’s plenty of variety.”
Although Aunt Ellen’s a gourmet cook, she’s also very strict about portion control, and, despite Uncle Bill’s protests, she manages to keep him on a diet most of the time. Today wouldn’t be one of those times, however. Luckily, we didn’t have to wait in line when we arrived at the buffet, and Uncle Bill took off toward the ample food display without bothering to wait until our server took our drink orders. Aunt Ellen shook her head in mock disbelief, and we all laughed.
Between Uncle Bill’s frequent trips to sample new dishes, he managed to tell me that he’d successfully placed his carved wooden sculptures with the Show-Me Gallery in Branson. Only a few months after he’d retired from the King County Assessor’s Office, he had launched a second career, one that gave him the opportunity to concentrate on his artistic talent.
“Uncle Bill, we’re proud of you,” I observed. “I hear that the Show-Me Gallery is one of the most prestigious in the country.”
“I’ve been lucky. Des, the owner, happened to see some of my sculptures at the Seahawk Gallery when he was visiting Seattle a couple of months ago. He actually contacted me.” Modest as always, Uncle Bill sounded amazed by his good fortune. “He told me that I should have an artist’s website, and I agreed with him, but, to tell you the truth, I don’t have a clue how to set up a website. I guess I’ll look into hiring a web designer after we get back home.”
“Dad, don’t pay someone to set up your site. I can do it for you,” Tracey volunteered.
“Really? You can do that?” Aunt Ellen seemed surprised.
“Sure, no problem. I helped Laurel with her site, didn’t I, Laurel?”
“Yes, you really did the lion’s share of the work. I never could have done it without you. My agent even refers her other clients to my DIY Diva site as an example of the way an author’s website should work.”
“Great!” Uncle Bill exclaimed enthusiastically. “That’s a load off my mind.” He quickly changed the subject. “Time for dessert, girls.” I wouldn’t have been surprised to see Uncle Bill rub his hands together in glee.
“Go easy on the sweets, Bill,” Aunt Ellen cautioned.
“Awww, Ellen, just this once. After all, how often do we eat at a buffet?”
Aunt Ellen sighed. “Well, maybe just this once.”
Aunt Ellen sipped her coffee in resignation while Uncle Bill proceeded to devour a couple of platefuls of goodies, but her eyes lit up when he finally suggested that it was time to leave for the movie. Perfect, I thought. Now I’d have the chance to tell Tracey about Victor’s murder and the attack on Bessie.
“How about it, girls? You like science fiction, don’t you?” Aunt Ellen asked.
“Sometimes, Mom, but Laurel and I want to browse through the shops in the mall for a while. Why don’t we meet you and Daddy after the movie at the south elevator to the parking garage?”
“Okay, see you later,” Uncle Bill said.
Tracey and I headed for the shops while her parents hurried toward the mall’s cine-plex. We found an empty bench in the middle of the mall, and I hurriedly told Tracey about what had happened in Hawkeye Haven while she and her parents had been touring the Ozarks.
“I can’t believe there was a murder in Hawkeye Haven only half a block from my house! That’s really scary. No wonder you didn’t want to tell Mom and Dad. They’d freak out for sure. They’ve always been so overprotective.”
“I know. Whenever they visit, I feel as though we’re kids back in Seattle again.”
“They’re always trying to talk us into moving back, and I might even consider that someday, but now’s just not the right time for me.”
“I don’t think I’d ever move back—too many memories.”
“Laurel, you can’t let Tim’s death keep you from moving on with your own life. You know Tim wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“I’ve moved on,” I sighed.
“Sure you have. That’s why you haven’t dated since the accident.”
“I have so,” I protested.
“A handful of first dates doesn’t count.”
“I guess, but I just don’t seem to meet anyone I’d want to date.”
“Of course not. You hang out with women all the time. Why don’t you try online dating? My friend Kara met her husband on romance.com. Maybe you should try it.”
“I don’t know,” I said uncertainly. “I’ll think about it,” I added, mainly to keep Tracey at bay. I love her to death, but once she makes up her mind about something, she’s as persistent as a bull dog. “Anyway, I met someone this week.”
“Laurel McMillan,” Tracey said, sounding just like her mother, “you’ve been holding out on me.”
“No, it’s just that with everything else going on, well….”
“So, give. Who is he and where did you meet him?”
“He’s a police detective. He and his partner came to the house after Victor was murdered. I think they questioned everybody who showed up at the murder scene. He seemed like a nice man then, but yesterday I ran into him at the community center, and he acted as though he suspected me of something. He made me mad.”
“Well, at least you had a reaction. You felt something.”
“I doubt that I’ll see him again.”
“You like him. Don’t deny it.”
“Okay, so I like him.” I added glumly, “I guess.”
“And he likes you?”
“He said I was a beautiful woman.”
“He told you that?”
“No, I overheard him tell his partner that he thought I was beautiful.”
“Laurel, I have the feeling that you’re going to see your cop again. I bet he asks you out.”
“Maybe,” I said weakly. I couldn’t work up much enthusiasm over the prospect. “Let’s go down to Ultimate Beauty wh
ile we’re here,” I said, changing the subject. I didn’t want to think about Wesson and his maddening ways anymore. “I need to buy sunscreen.”
“Okay, I’m about out of that lavender body scrub I like, and I know they carry it.”
We vacated our seats on the bench and headed down the mall toward Ultimate Beauty. Fifteen minutes later and a hundred dollars lighter, we emerged carrying our packages. As we slowly walked back down the mall, we stopped to gaze in the windows of the high-end boutiques, jewelry stores, and gift shops. Inspired by designer creations, I frequently come up with my own DIY versions of pricey items. So far, my DIY Diva book series included fashion, jewelry, and home decorating topics, and although I could always add many more project books on those subjects, I thought branching out with a DIY project book for dog lovers might be a good idea. With millions of pet parents as crazy about their furry companions as I am about Bear, I hoped that DIY for Dog Lovers would sell well.
“Isn’t that Karl over there?” Tracey asked as we brushed past a kiosk vendor offering perfume samples. “It is,” she confirmed as the man turned around. Karl, trailed by Cynthia and her husband Pete, spotted us, waved, and came over to greet us.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Cynthia said.
“We came to the champagne buffet with Tracey’s parents. They’re visiting from Seattle, and right now they’re at a movie, so we decided to shop while we’re waiting for them.”
“We just came from the buffet ourselves,” Karl said, patting his ample stomach. “As usual, I ate too much, but at least we got eighteen holes in before we came over.”
Pete nodded. “Great day for it,” he commented.
“Karl, Laurel told me that Courtney’s staying with you and Eva,” Tracey said. “It was so nice of you to offer to let her stay with you.”
“Glad we could help. The poor kid’s had such a shock. We invited her to come with us today, but she wanted to stay home with Eva.”
“How is Eva?” Tracey asked. “I used to see her at the community center once in a while, but I haven’t seen her for a long time.” Obviously Tracey didn’t realize that Eva’s agoraphobia had worsened.
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