Revenge is Sweet (A Samantha Church Mystery, Book 2)

by Betta Ferrendelli

  “Looks like you’ve put on a little more weight, Sam,” Esther said, turning her attention back to the road, now navigating the Subaru along a two-lane road thick with Evergreens.

  Esther’s comment shouldn’t have caught Sam off guard, but it did. Her brief conversation with David earlier that day came to mind. Sam thought of his offer to help her lose weight. Sam patted her thighs firmly, the same way she had done that afternoon while talking with David. No use denying it. She had gained more weight. She had to lie down on her bed this afternoon to button her Levis. And she wasn’t the least bit happy about it. “I’ve probably gained a little,” Sam said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.

  “I didn’t have a chance to get to the store to get some groceries,” Esther said matter of factly. “But we can make a run to the store tomorrow.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” Sam said. “Obviously you know I am not going to starve.” She was thankful that the trip from the ferry terminal to Esther’s house was no more than two miles. Sam hadn’t even been in the car five minutes with this woman and already she wanted to strangle her. She could hardly wait to get to the house and have all those dogs start jumping all over her. What fun that’ll be, she thought.

  Sam decided it was best to be prepared for what awaited her when she walked through Esther’s front door. “How many dogs do you have at the house now?” she asked.

  She could see Esther’s eyebrows drift above her glasses as she did the math.

  “Seven,” she said finally. “No, eight! We got a new little one just the other day.” Esther didn’t try to hide the fact that she was obviously proud that there were consistently more canines living in her place than humans. She also had a nasty habit when she talked of using the collective “we.” When, other than paid help, she was the only one living in the house and had been for years.

  Not long after she had moved from Denver to the Pacific Northwest, Esther got involved in animal rescue. Her love had always been dogs. It started out as a manageable, even noble, cause. Sam even remembered how happy Jonathan was when his mother had finally found something useful to do with her time. It took an enormous amount of pressure off him.

  What started out as just one or two dogs, however, grew to unmanageable numbers like seven and eight and sometimes as many as ten. Now it seemed that Esther couldn’t be happy unless the place was crawling with a pack of them. And she’d have more, if she could have gotten away with it. In fact, when the numbers of dogs swelled to eight and nine, she was already pushing it, as a city ordinance prevented residents living within its limits from having more than five dogs.

  After Jonathan’s father had died, Esther wandered aimlessly through her life for several years in search of something new and meaningful. It wasn’t long after his father passed on before Jonathan started saying to Sam that his mother, ‘had lost all her marbles.’

  “She’s just so different now, Sam,” Jonathan used to say. But that was when Sam and Jonathan were still at a point in their marriage when they shared things as couples who love each other do. Sam knew it had bothered Jonathan that his mother had begun to care more about the animals in her life than the people. Sam told him it was because there were so few people in her life. Sam didn’t have to know Esther long before it became apparent that she was one of those people who enjoyed making other people jump through hoops.

  They drove the rest of the way from the ferry terminal in silence. Sam looked out the side window. Esther negotiated the Forrester through several turns on the main road before making a final left-hand turn onto a gravel road, which led to her front door.

  Esther’s place, a rambling, dark-wooded ranch-styled log cabin, was set on a two-acre plot surrounded mostly by tall Evergreens. Esther’s home was like many of the subdivisions on Canal Island, where tall trees and shrubs hid the houses. Often all one could see of their neighbor’s place was the roof. The foliage gave an added sense of privacy from the neighbors that Sam knew Esther found appealing. The only light in the house came from what Sam knew was the study, where Esther would watch TV all evening, surrounded by her dogs. Who needed a burglar alarm with a house crawling with huskies, shepherds and chows?

  Sam looked toward the opposite end of the house, to April’s room. It was dark. She tried to ignore the hopefulness she felt, wanting April to be in the study watching television and waiting for her arrival. Wanting her daughter to fall into her arms the moment she saw her. Wanting her to cry with happiness. Wanting Sam to take her home. Wanting to leave tomorrow. Wanting. Wanting. Wanting.

  “We’ll go through the garage door,” Esther announced. “It’ll be easier.”

  As soon as the garage door went up Sam heard the dogs start barking, deep-throated yaps and barks conveying a mixture of excitement and fear at the would-be intruders. Sam rolled her eyes as Esther tried to open the door in the garage, which led to the utility room and all the food bowls. If there were seven or eight dogs all crammed near the door entrance, Sam was certain that it was going to impossible to get in without being mauled, pawed and slobbered upon. She was thankful she had packed several pairs of jeans.

  Sam was hit with the pungent odor of wet dog when Esther opened the door. She took a deep breath and held it. “Get back! Come on! Move! Let me through! Let me through!” Esther was saying as she tried to push the door open further so they could get in the house.

  Sure enough there they all were, all eight of them, barking, panting and wagging their tails now that they saw who it was. The dogs were acting like Esther had been gone for years, not the ten-minute trek to the ferry terminal. Even if April were asleep, she wouldn’t be for long with all the noise.

  Sam decided she would wait for the dogs to settle down before bringing her bags into the house. It took nearly five minutes to climb the stairs toward the room, which doubled as the laundry room and doggie room because the narrow stairwell was too crowded with Esther and the dogs. Despite Esther’s repeated commands for the dogs to move, they weren’t going anywhere. Esther managed to get to the top of the stairs completely surrounded by a sea of dogs, which seemed to carry her. Sam shook her head and looked on in amazement. Most of the dogs didn’t seem the least bit interested in her and she had a bit more freedom to walk up the stairs.

  In the laundry room, Sam scanned the perimeter, which save for the washer and dryer was elaborately set up to feed a number of dogs at once. Rows of stainless steel dog bowls were neatly lined along the floor. The bowls had been securely built into the wall so that the dogs couldn’t push their bowls around the floor while they ate and were positioned directly across from the washer and dryer. A doggie door was situated at the end of the farthest bowl, so the moment the dogs finished eating, they could zip through the flap and head out of doors. More bowls were built into an adjacent wall. Sam counted a spot for eight dogs to eat comfortably without turning to attack the other in case one finished first and tried to eat out of another dog’s bowl, which often was the case.

  A large water dish had been built into the wall, and was designed to refill automatically. The dog food was kept in several securely mounted black vinyl bins on the wall above the bowls. The two windows had neither blinds nor curtains. The view was darkness, but in the morning it would give way to the backyard and an expanse of Evergreens. The utility room floor was easy-to-clean linoleum, which was the light color of lemon.

  “This is quite the set up,” Sam said to Esther as she watched her remove her rain slicker and hang it on one of several thick wooden pegs that protruded from the wall. Sam placed her Polar Tec jacket on the empty hook next to Esther’s jacket.

  Once Esther removed her coat, and in the better, bright light filtering in from the kitchen, Sam noticed that Esther had also put on weight. Her face was fuller, as was her midsection. It wasn’t noticeable with her rain slicker, but now Sam could see that she carried most of her extra weight around her stomach like a spare tire.

  “Got to be able to feed them,” Esther said trying
to speak over a chorus of barking dogs. “All right! Hush! That’s enough! You’ll wake April.” Esther used a stern voice and most of the dogs, taking note, quieted down. Sam and the dogs followed Esther into the kitchen, where the surface of the floors changed to hardwood light in color.

  “The place is such a mess,” Esther said surveying the kitchen as she passed through on the way to the study. “The house keeper won’t be back ’til Monday. I guess I could get out the vacuum.”

  That wasn’t going to happen because of Esther’s aversion to actually doing housework and cleaning up after herself. Sam knew from experience that Esther’s comment was directed at her. Esther merely suggested that she should get out the vacuum, when all along she really wanted someone else to offer to do the work. Sam would make no offer to run the sweeper.

  Sam followed Esther’s retreating shape toward the study and couldn’t help thinking, what a terrible thing the dogs are doing to these hardwood floors. The dogs only had access to the doggie room, kitchen and study. A gate had sectioned off the back of the house, which contained the great room, dining room and three bedrooms. The gate was a new addition since Sam had been here last. Before, the dogs had run of the entire house. Maybe Esther had decided that she should preserve some areas of the house before the dogs ended up destroying everything.

  Before Sam entered the study, she glanced down a long dark hallway to the last door on her left. April’s room. There was no light coming from beneath the door. Sam tried to ignore the disappointment because April had not stayed up to greet her. Sam held out hope that Esther had not told her she was coming.

  She turned to the study, a cozy room with heavy wooden blinds covering a single large window. A lamp on an end table was on, producing a soft light. A bookcase lining the back wall from floor to ceiling was filled with hardcovers and paperbacks. A big, flat-screened television and stereo system were prominently displayed in an adjacent entertainment center made of light oak and wood. A Bev Doolittle painting hung on the only other wall in the room. A peach-colored area rug in the center of the room covered the hardwood floor. Bits of debris that the dogs had carried in on their paws and clumps of darker dog hair showed easily on the carpet. The furniture, a love seat and recliner, were black leather and soft as butter.

  When Sam entered the room, there was no place to sit. Esther planted herself in the recliner and was already in a horizontal position with her feet up. A wiry, little dog that reminded Sam of ‘Toto’ from the Wizard of Oz had jumped into Esther’s lap and had curled itself into a tiny ball. Two of the bigger dogs had jumped up on the love seat, occupying both sections. They were panting furiously now that their body heat and the warmth the leather was producing were mixing. The remaining dogs had found places to settle on the floor.

  Sam also knew from experience that she wasn’t about to ask one of the dogs to get off the couch. That was simply something one didn’t do in Esther’s house. Here the animals had it first come, first served. If one wanted to sit on the sofa in the study and a dog was already there, they had to ask nicely for the dog to get down. Sam elected to stay standing.

  “Tippet, you sweet thing, get down so Sam can sit,” Esther said to one of the dogs with a thick coat of fur in varying shades of gray. She spoke in a tone of voice that sounded more like a child’s. Sam couldn’t help rolling her eyes and hoped that Esther didn’t noticed.

  “No, no, that’s okay, Esther,” Sam said waving off Esther’s suggestion to Tippet. “I’ll just sit over here.” Sam walked to a chair in front of the bookcase that came from the table in the breakfast nook in the kitchen. She settled in the chair and Esther flicked on the TV with the remote control as the chimes from the grandfather clock in the great room, sounded on the half hour. “Is April already in bed?” Sam asked, looking again down the darkened hallway.

  When Esther didn’t answer right away, Sam turned her attention to her. She was intently watching a rerun of Law & Order on a cable channel. Sam glanced at the television set. The sound was muted, but the scene of several police cars coming to a stop at the scene of the crime, played out before her. “Esther, is April already in bed?” Sam said again.

  Esther turned up the volume and then looked from the television program to Sam and nodded. “She still isn’t feeling well, so I put her to bed early tonight. At seven-thirty. I’d rather you not wake her now, but wait ’til the morning to see her.”

  Sam snorted under her breath. What she wanted to say was, “How could anyone possibly be asleep with all this noise?” But that wouldn’t set too well with Esther. And Sam knew it. It was just the beginning of the long weekend. It wouldn’t be wise to get started on the wrong foot, which would, no doubt, set a sour tone for the duration of her stay. “Did you tell her I was coming?” Sam asked, looking intently at Esther. She could see the flicker of the television set reflecting in Esther’s glasses.

  Esther watched the set a moment, ignoring Sam. A nasty habit that Esther had, which drove Sam nearly insane. “Esther, does April know I’m here?”

  Esther gave Sam a brief moment of her attention. “Of course,” she said stiffly before she went back to watching the tube. “Didn’t you ask me to tell her you were coming?”

  A commercial had come on announcing a new and improved formula for a carpet fresh product. Perfect, Sam thought. Just what this place needs. She stretched her arms above her head as high as she could. “Well, it’s been a long day,” she said, feigning a yawn. “Guess I’ll get my bags out of the car and go to bed, too.”

  “There are towels in the guest bathroom,” Esther said, her eyes still on the TV. “Use whatever you like.”

  None of the dogs followed Sam as she left the study. The closer Sam got to the doggie room and the garage the heavier the scent of wet dog became. She tried breathing through her mouth. The smell in the study didn’t seem as bad, which Sam guessed was due to the ionizers that were positioned high on kitchen counters and just outside the study. Sam returned moments later with her purse and travel bag in hand. “Thanks for picking me up at the ferry, Esther. See you in the morning.”

  “Do you need the hall light on?” Esther asked.

  “No thanks,” Sam said as she turned and headed for the gate. “There’s enough light coming from here that I can find my way. G’night.”

  “Night,” Esther called from the study.

  Sam pushed the gate open and walked quietly through the great room, thankful to be away from the dogs and Esther. She stopped at her bedroom door next to April’s. She put her hand on the knob, but stopped before turning it. It was all she could do to stay where she was. There wasn’t any way, however, that Sam would let the entire night pass without seeing her daughter. She had come too far and the visit would be too short not to see April tonight. In an hour or so Esther would come down the hallway and go to bed. Sam would wait and listen. Then she would slip quietly into April’s bedroom and do what she had been aching to do the moment she got off the plane, crawl in her bed and lay beside her.

  There was no reason to fight the tears of frustration and sadness she felt rolling down her face as she let herself into her own bedroom. She flicked on the overhead light. The room was small and the same heavy wooden blinds covered her bedroom window. A single twin bed was positioned against the wall beneath the window. There was a small nightstand with a clock radio and lamp on top, next to the bed. The blinds were open and Sam set her bags on the bed. Before she closed them she looked out into the yard. The moon was shining overhead, completely filling the perimeter with its distinct light. The tall trees looked like giant sentinels that stood perfectly still in the distance. Sam closed the blinds and switched on the light on the nightstand. She turned out the one overhead. There was a tall dresser that matched the nightstand and a generous closet. As Sam expected, the print on the wall was a limited edition by an artist with a name that she did not recognize.

  Nothing had changed with respect to the prints Esther had in her house. Most were limited edition prints that had
been expensively framed. The only photograph of any one person in her house was a photo of Jonathan when he graduated from the police academy. There was another of Jonathan and his siblings taken on a picnic, the weekend before his father was shot in the line of duty. Sam knew that Esther kept both of them on the nightstand in her bedroom.

  Just before midnight Sam heard Esther coming down the hallway. Sam listened and wondered if she would check on April. She listened a few moments more and could tell that Esther had not opened the door to April’s room.

  Within minutes the house was quiet and dark. Sam waited until the red numbers on the clock radio showed 12:30 a.m. She threw her covers back and was hit by the chill of the late winter night. She shivered and wished she had brought a warmer nightgown. Quietly she opened her bedroom door. She had not turned on the light in her bedroom, so her eyes were well adjusted to the darkness. She walked on cat’s feet toward April’s door. Her heart was beating fast.

  Sam reached her daughter’s door. She put her hand on the knob and her ear against the door to listen a moment. Silence. Sam turned the knob and quietly pushed the door open. She held her breath, hoping that it wouldn’t creak on its hinges or that April wouldn’t call out when she opened the door. The room smelled faintly of shampoo and lotion. Sam closed her eyes, drew a deep breath and held it. It was the scent of her daughter and she wanted nothing more than simply to bathe in it.

  The soft sounds of the rise and fall of April’s breathing filled the darkened spaces. Sam could feel tears well in her eyes. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. She entered the room and closed the door softly. The room was utterly dark. She felt for the edge of the bed and followed along the side until she felt the tenderness of flesh from her daughter’s arm. She let her hand stay gently on April’s arm a moment to let the feel of her daughter run through her. Her skin was soft and Sam squeezed lightly. Her bones felt slight, still fragile, still forming, still soft. “Oh baby,” Sam whispered. Her voice quivered with emotion.