That task completed, I watched Fred interact with the women. Grace’s house, two doors down and across the street, was too far for me to hear what he was telling them, but they stopped fighting.
A pied piper with an invisible pipe, he led them down the street and up his front porch steps.
“Lindsay, meet Kristi, Chaille, Anita, Becky, and Alinn. Someone played a cruel joke on them, luring them to an empty house.”
“Oh, my, why would anyone do a dastardly thing like that?” I tried to sound sincere.
“They all have long drives ahead of them to get home tonight, so I invited them to join us for a cold drink before they depart.” Fred opened the lid of the chest to reveal bottles of water and cans of Coke nestled in ice. “Please help yourselves. The day has become quite warm, and you ladies have been out in the heat. You shouldn’t get dehydrated.”
The women grabbed drinks and settled in the chairs.
Anita plopped her skinny witch butt in my purple chair.
I waited for Fred to make her get out of my chair.
He selected a bottle of water then sat in the red chair without acknowledging Anita’s appropriation of my purple one.
I glared at her. She was too busy stroking Fred’s arm and batting her gunky black eyelashes at him to notice.
I selected a Coke and took a seat between Pinched Lips and Simian Face. Chaille and Alinn. The former smelled of discount perfume, the latter of perspiration. I tucked my shoulders in tightly to avoid touching either of them, but that had no effect on my sense of smell. Why hadn’t I set the chairs farther apart?
Fred sipped from his bottle of water, crossed his legs, and leaned back. He wasn’t encouraging Anita’s attentions but he wasn’t shoving her away either. As Sophie’s friend, if this went on much longer, I’d have to zap Anita with my purple stun gun. Accidentally, of course. Stand, trip, reflexively press the button and grab her arm in an attempt to stop my fall.
“Lindsay, do you remember that man who died Saturday in the house down the street where these ladies were congregated?” Fred asked.
“Yes?” I was pretty sure that was the right answer though sometimes Fred goes down convoluted side roads.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he said, “but all these ladies were married to him.”
I took a long pull on my Coke.
Kristi saved me from coming up with a response. “I was first,” she said in a flat, nasal voice.
Alinn thrust out her chin. “No, you weren’t. I was.”
Chaille leaned around me to snarl at Alinn. “I was last. He left all of you to marry me.”
I clutched my purple rectangle more tightly. If the two of them started fighting with me in the middle, I’d push that button and keep pushing until they dropped to the porch, immobilized by a million volts each.
“Grace married him in August,” I said.
Suddenly I had everyone’s attention.
“Is that the bitch who killed him?” Alinn asked.
“Allegedly killed him,” Fred corrected. “The police arrested her based on circumstantial evidence. But who could blame her if she did? He lied to her. Cheated on her. Oldest motives in the world.”
Silence wrapped around our little group. I could almost hear the wheels creaking in the brains of the other lied-to, cheated-on women.
Anita stopped touching Fred and sat stiffly upright, her thin lips a hard, red line. “He lied to us.”
“Cheated on us.” Becky’s timid voice held a sharp edge.
“Have the authorities questioned any of you yet?” he asked.
“The authorities?” Chaille repeated.
“The cops,” I translated.
“Why would they question us?” Anita asked.
“You have the same motives his latest wife had,” I said.
“But they’ve already arrested her,” Alinn protested. “She’s guilty. Why would they come after us?”
“She has a very good lawyer,” Fred said. “He’ll get the charges dropped before the case ever goes to trial.”
She does?
He will?
Either Fred had contacted that very good lawyer on his way to fetch the women, or he was lying.
“I’m sure you all have nothing to worry about,” he continued. “I believe there’s some suspicion that Chuck was involved in illegal drugs. Perhaps the authorities will focus in that direction.”
Kristi’s low forehead dropped lower. “Drugs?”
“He smoked.” Chaille’s lips pinched more tightly.
“He stopped a few weeks ago.” Deep lines around Anita’s mouth suggested she’d done her share of smoking. Was she angry because she didn’t have anybody to join her in an after-dinner smoke? Had he tried to get her to quit too? Surely she didn’t murder him because he stopped smoking and nagged at her to quit. Her brown eyes glittered with such malice, I couldn’t discount the idea.
“Did he buy a lot of decongestants?” Fred asked.
“He had allergies,” Kristi said. “The dumb government wouldn’t let him buy enough so I had to get some for him.”
“Me too,” Becky said. “Every time he came home, I went to the drugstore and bought decongestants for him.”
I could feel the anger sizzling through the air on Fred’s porch as the women looked at each other.
“Yeah, me too,” Chaille mumbled.
“Oh, my,” Fred said.
Oh, my? Fred wasn’t an Oh, my kind of guy.
“Are you saying he used you to buy products to make illegal drugs?” Fred asked incredulously. “That’s despicable.”
“It certainly is,” I agreed.
The eyes of the wives-in-law narrowed as they scanned each other.
“He deserved what he got,” Anita said.
Slowly the other women nodded their agreement.
Fred rubbed the back of his neck. “Unbelievable. He must have been a master of deception to fool all of you.”
Alinn grunted. “He always brought me gifts. Every time he came home, he brought me a bird.”
“A bird?” Becky asked.
“Not a real one,” Alinn said disdainfully. “I collect statues of birds.”
Becky leaned forward in her seat. “He brought me a bird once. I don’t collect birds. I collect frogs. I guess he got us confused.”
“Cats,” Kristi said. “We couldn’t have a real cat because of his allergies, so he brought me little cats when he went out of town except one time he brought me a wolf.”
“I collect wolves.” Anita looked like a fierce wolf as she spoke.
“Mushrooms.” Chaille spat out the word. I had a feeling she’d destroy all those mushrooms when she got home.
“Wait till I tell Brother Daniels,” Becky said. “He’s our preacher. Every time Chuck was in town, we always went to church. He even met with Brother Daniels for Bible study on Thursday evenings. Everybody in the congregation is going to be shocked.”
“Chuck was a deacon in our church.” Kristi looked murderous enough to have killed him. “Reverend Ward always said he was such a good man.”
Anita cast her malevolent gaze on the others. “That jerk might only be at home for a few days but he always managed to find time to see Father Donovan. Didn’t have time to take his wife on vacation, but he was always yammering on about doing the right thing and helping the poor.”
“Same here,” Chaille agreed. “Time for everybody except his wife. We didn’t even get to go on a honeymoon.”
“Neither did we,” Kristi said.
At least Grace had a honeymoon. They’d spent it in a fishing cabin at a lake, but it was more than some of his wives had. I made a mental note to tell her when she got out of jail. It might make her feel better.
“He wanted kids really bad,” Becky said. “I’m glad we didn’t have any.”
“Me too,” Anita agreed. “His kid might have grown into an evil man like his daddy.”
The group went silent. Didn’t want to talk about kids?
“In the world.” I took the box of cookies and brownies from my bag and passed it to Chaille.
“I have not eaten chocolate desserts in every country in the world,” Fred said, “but I think Lindsay is very likely correct.”
Chaille took a cookie and offered the box to Becky who turned up her nose and gave the box to Kristi. She picked out a brownie, got up and brought the box to Alinn who also turned up her nose.
Two of them didn’t want my desserts? What kind of women had Chuck married?
Kristi gave the box to Anita. She might be a witch, but at least she took a cookie.
“What kind of relationship did you have with your in-laws?” Fred asked. “Didn’t they find it unusual that he had a different wife at Christmas than the one he’d had at Thanksgiving?”
The women studied each other, their eyes sliding from side to side, calculating.
“He didn’t talk to his folks,” Becky said.
Chaille shifted in her chair. “He hadn’t talked to them in years.”
“He’s an only child,” Alinn said. “They put their hopes on him. Wanted him to be a doctor because they’re rich and all that, but he didn’t want to be a doctor.”
“That’s right,” Anita confirmed. “He dropped out of medical school to become a salesman.”
“Broke his heart them snotty rich people wouldn’t have anything to do with him,” Becky said.
“So Chuck’s family has money?” Fred asked.
“Gas wells,” Alinn said. “Lots of gas wells out in the Oklahoma Panhandle.”
Again they all nodded.
He’d told the same story to each of them. Did that mean it was true or that he found it easier to keep track if he told the same lie to everybody?
“Sad when families are separated like that.” Fred looked sad.
“They made sure he’d never get any of the money,” Chaille said. “They put it all in trust for his kids.”
His kids?
Grace said Chuck couldn’t have kids because of an old football injury. Stella had said they wanted kids but never had any. Was that why Chuck had so many wives, trying to find one who’d give him a child? If he’d adopted Rickie, the kid could have been rich. That was a sobering thought. A scary thought.
I looked around at the wives. “How many kids does Chuck have?”
Nobody said anything.
I interpreted that to mean zero.
“I’m being rude,” Fred said, “keeping you from your drive home. I’ve very much enjoyed chatting with you.” He extended a hand toward the cooler. “Help yourself to a fresh drink before you leave.”
They took drinks and left, driving off into the sunset.
Fred folded his arms and watched them go. “That was quite illuminating.”
I mimicked his posture. “Oh, yeah.”
Illuminating?
I tried to think like Fred. What had we learned?
Chuck was a thoughtful husband who brought gifts to his wives, though sometimes he got the wives confused. I could see how that might happen.
Chuck had a predilection for decongestants.
Chuck was really into church. I’d have to ask Grace about their religious preferences.
Chuck’s parents were wealthy, and he’d disappointed them with his failure to become a doctor. Had he learned how to make meth in chemistry class and decided that would be a better career choice? Fewer middle of the night emergency calls?
His parents had set up a trust fund for his offspring, but none of the wives had produced any offspring except Grace who came with an instant family. Had that been part of her attraction? Or had Grace known about the trust fund and chose Chuck because of it? If she did, that was further proof she didn’t kill him. She’d have waited until the adoption was final so Rickie could inherit all that money.
“If Chuck was involved in the illegal drug business—” Fred began.
“If? You think there’s a possibility he wasn’t?”
“We have a lot of circumstantial evidence, but at this point, we have no proof. If Chuck was involved in the illegal drug business, the question is, was his next stop a pickup or a delivery?”
“He had a lot of decongestants which would suggest he was planning to see his cook next.”
“According to Grace, he also had a lot of cash. That could mean he needed to deliver that cash. Perhaps the late tractor delivery story he told Grace actually referred to a late delivery of cash.”
“You think that creepy Howdy Doody guy sent George to Grace’s house to find the money?”
“It’s possible. However, George was trying to find money in your basement first. Perhaps he’s acting on his own.”
“Not like he’s above stealing. He’s done it before. So what’s our next step? Are we going to search Grace’s house to find the money or drugs or whatever? Is that the real reason you left her in jail overnight?”
“Are you suggesting we break into her home? That would be illegal.”
I thought of some of the things Fred had done and began to laugh.
I sat down in the purple chair, held my head in my hands, and laughed.
Chuck had convinced seven women to marry him. Chuck attended church regularly. Chuck’s family was wealthy. Chuck dropped out of medical school.
Fred had lied to five of Chuck’s wives and lured them over to talk to him. Two of those wives refused my chocolate.
And Fred wouldn’t break into Grace’s house because it was illegal.
The world had gone completely crazy.
Chapter Ten
I tried to convince Fred I wasn’t having a meltdown, but he insisted on walking me home anyway, a journey of about twenty-five feet.
Henry met us at the door, rubbed against my leg, and snubbed Fred.
Fred snubbed him back, told me to lock the door, then waited on the porch until I went inside and swore to him the door was locked.
I’d missed two phone calls from Trent. He left a message saying I didn’t need to call him back if it was too late.
I took my phone to the kitchen and gave Henry some catnip.
“Trent’s so trusting,” I said. “Maybe I don’t deserve his trust. I’m keeping things from him. More things every day. I don’t think it would be a good idea to tell him about meeting the wives tonight. It’s not a secret, but I think he’ll sleep better if he doesn’t know about them or the stun gun, don’t you?”
Henry snorted. It sounded like an affirmative snort to me.
“He withholds information from me all the time. Can’t talk about an ongoing investigation. Blah, blah, blah. That means I’m justified in withholding information from him. Right?”
Henry said nothing. It sounded like an affirmative silence to me.
I decided to take Trent up on his offer not to call him back if it was too late. It was definitely too late. I needed to go to bed soon. In the next hour or so.
Tomorrow I’d worry about what I could and should tell him.
When Henry woke me that morning at 3:15, the time didn’t bother me. I always get up early to make chocolate while the rest of the city is still sleeping. What bothered me was that he was standing with his front paws on the window sill, looking out toward the street, yowling like a jungle cat.
I dragged myself from my warm bed into the cold darkness and went to the window. The moon had set, the street light was out again, and the darkness blended everything into shadows.
Maybe a shadow moved on Grace’s front porch.
Or maybe not.
I hoped not.
“I don’t see anything,” I said.
Henry looked up at me with that expression of disdain cats use for creatures with inferior senses of sight, hearing, and smell.
He dropped to the floor and trotted to the bedroom door where he stood staring at the door, waiting for it
to open. I was never sure if he expected it to open from his own telekinetic abilities or from an obedient human.
His obedient human opened the door.
He waited.
I sighed. I didn’t want to go out. I didn’t want to explore the darkness for whatever creature caused Henry’s unease.
Maybe I could distract him with catnip.
I took a step into the hallway.
He shifted his gaze to my bare feet.
He was planning an outside trip and knew my feet were soft and vulnerable without enough fur to keep them warm.
I sighed again but put on a robe and my fuzzy purple slippers.
I had a small hope that I could give him enough catnip to make him forget his obsession with Grace’s house. Nevertheless, I grabbed my cell phone and stun gun from the nightstand before I followed him downstairs and turned right toward the kitchen.
He turned left toward the front door.
“This way,” I encouraged. “Catnip!”
He stretched up and wrapped both paws around the door knob.
“You’re not going out there. I’m not going out there. What if Chuck’s murderer is out there? What if some drug dealer is trying to get into Grace’s house to find drugs? Worse, what if it’s another wife?”
He meowed threateningly.
“Maybe we should get Fred.”
He scratched at the door impatiently.
I was not the least bit impatient to go out there. “What’s your hurry? It’s not like we’re rescuing somebody who’s in danger. Grace is safe in jail, and Rickie’s with his sperm donor.”
He scratched again.
Grace was in jail. Her house was empty. What did Henry know that I didn’t? Had some of those boxes caught on fire? My house had outdated wiring when we bought it. Grace’s house probably did too. Rickhead would never bother to fix something hazardous just because it could endanger his son who would be living there.
“All right!” I opened the door.
Henry darted out and...no surprise...headed across the street at an angle, straight for Grace’s house.
I wrapped my robe around me tightly. The morning was chilly. And, did I mention, dark?
Guns, Wives and Chocolate Page 8