Whiskey on the Rocks

by Nina Wright

  “Oh my God! Is she all right?” My voice cracked with panic. The thought of Mooney pressing his weight into the belly containing Leo’s heirs made my knees weak.

  “We think so. She’s carrying the baby low, and Mooney aimed high—at her diaphragm.”

  “Two babies! Twins!” I cried, more upset now than I had been all night. “There are two babies in there! Did you hear me? Call an ambulance! She needs a doctor! What if she goes into labor or something?! She can’t have those kids here!”

  I managed to sound more frightened for myself than for her.

  “So you know her?” Tanner asked.

  “She’s my husband’s daughter. My late husband’s daughter. He’s dead. She’s pregnant. And from Belize. I hardly know her.” I paused for breath, always advisable. “Call an ambulance!”

  “There’s one on the way,” the other deputy replied. Then he asked for Avery’s full name and vital statistics. I told him what I knew, which wasn’t much. I couldn’t even remember her middle name.

  Tanner said, “Any idea why she’d break in?”

  “She hates me,” I offered. Other than that, I was clueless. I stared at Avery, who was staring back, her eyes unusually wide as she struggled for breath. For years she had squinted at me in what I took to be a habitually suspicious or hateful manner. Tonight she looked terrified. It was almost endearing. Part of me wondered whether I should try to comfort her. Then I reminded myself that she had broken into my house.

  “Where’s Mooney?” I said, scanning the room.

  “In the kitchen,” the second deputy said.

  “Should I do something? Does he need anything?”

  “You might want to give him a dog biscuit or a pat on the head. Maybe tell him to lie down. Let him know he’s off duty now.”

  I explained that I couldn’t talk to Mooney because the words I needed were online. The second deputy looked confused until I explained about Dogs-Train-You-dot-com. Turned out he had used the same system with his own guard dog, so he gave me some canine phrases. Verbally armed, I headed for the kitchen.

  I screamed the instant I opened the door. Mooney was on top of Chester, who lay flat on the floor in his pajamas, apparently being crushed. Or licked to death.

  “I’m okay, Whiskey!” he managed between swipes of Mooney’s enormous tongue. “He’s not on my solar plexus. See!”

  Indeed. Mooney was astride Chester. But that tongue looked big enough to suffocate Shaquill O'Neal.

  I wanted to ask how he knew about Mooney and the solar plexus, but first things first.

  “How did you get in here?” I demanded.

  “The usual way,” Chester said, pushing Mooney back with calm authority. “You left that window over your sink unlocked again.”

  “Too bad Avery didn’t notice,” I sighed.

  “She’s too fat to fit through it,” he said. “What did she want, anyway? Something of Leo’s?” He stroked Mooney lovingly.

  I said, “How do you know this dog?”

  “Everybody knows Mooney. Why did the Judge lend him to you? Were you expecting more trouble?”

  More trouble than what? I didn’t think Chester knew about the hang-glider with the deer rifle. And at that moment I didn’t have the strength to tell him. Besides, the two deputies had appeared in the doorway.

  “Can we get your mom’s autograph?” Tanner asked. “We have all her CDs, don’t we, Butch?”

  “You bet! Random Rain is my fave!”

  “It’s good, but not as good as Wind in My Heartstrings,” Tanner insisted.

  “Do I hear an ambulance?” I glared at them until they went to check.

  Mooney was resting his immense drooling head on Chester’s lap as a puddle formed around them on the floor.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t let him get quite that close,” I said, remembering how nervous my mother used to be when she watched us kids play with big dogs.

  “He’s a nice Rott Hound,” Chester cooed, and Mooney slapped him affectionately with his wet sponge of a tongue.

  “Rott Hound?”

  “It beats Bloodweiler, doesn’t it?”

  There were two sirens—one for the ambulance, the other for Jenx.

  “You’re supposed to be off duty!” I said when she walked in.

  “Right.” Jenx yawned. “I was coming back from Hamlin County—tell you later. You okay?”

  I said I was afraid that Mooney might have hurt Avery’s babies.

  “No way! He knows what he’s doing.”

  After Jenx had finished chatting with the sheriff’s deputies, I asked, “Does this fall under their jurisdiction or yours?”

  “It’s complicated. Got coffee?”

  In the kitchen, Mooney and Chester greeted Jenx like a long-lost friend.

  “My favorite deputy! And my favorite deputy-dog!” she exclaimed, hugging them both and making it look easy.

  “So you know Mooney, too.” I was groping around my cupboards for coffee. The gesture seemed futile. I couldn’t remember when I’d last bought any.

  “We deputize Mooney whenever we need canine back-up.”

  “There’s coffee in the freezer,” Chester said helpfully. He was holding the carafe and a paper filter. I hoped he’d washed his hands.

  Jenx yawned. “Almost 4:30! I could sure use some breakfast.”

  “Me, too!” said Chester. “Too bad we’re at Whiskey’s.”

  My cupboards were not completely bare. Chester found an old box of pop-tarts. How old I didn’t care to speculate, for I was sure Leo had bought them. Chester wouldn’t let me check the expiration date.

  “It’s just an FDA formality,” he said. “What do you think all those chemicals are for?”

  Jenx and I were on our second cup of black coffee when we noticed that Chester and Mooney had collapsed against each other in a snoring boy-dog pile. I suggested moving the boy to a bed and the dog to the yard, but she shook her head.

  “There’s been a development,” Jenx whispered. “Disturbing stuff. Let’s talk in your office.”

  I sat at my desk while she paced, coffee mug in hand.

  “I got a call from the Hamlin County coroner earlier tonight. Some kids found two bodies in a shallow grave. Caucasian male and female in their early thirties. Both dead less than a week. Female’s skull was crushed. Both had had autopsies.“

  My mouth was too dry to say anything, so Jenx said it for me.

  “Our missing bodies.”

  “How—?”

  “Crouch uses a funeral home in Ritchie as his morgue. Does every autopsy there. The morning after he released the remains, they disappeared. Funeral director couldn’t explain what happened.”

  “Someone stole the corpses?”

  Jenx said, “Probably someone named Santy.”

  I thought about Marilee Gallagher. At least now she’d have her husband’s remains.

  “What about Holly Lomax?” I said. “Anybody report her missing?”

  “Only her parole officer. Lomax was a lost soul. A hooker and druggie who fell down the well.”

  “What was her connection to the Santys?”

  “Besides the fact that they probably killed her? I think she worked for them—and probably killed Dan Gallagher. Why, I don’t know. How, I don’t know yet, either. We’re still waiting for the rest of Crouch’s tox screens to come back.” Jenx finished her coffee. “Somehow it all connects to Warren Matheney’s finger. And that missing butt-ugly Cloud Ring.”

  I told Jenx about the recorded phone message that jarred me awake. She asked who knew I hadn’t cancelled Leo’s cell phone.

  “Anyone who’s called that number since he died.”

  “Hey!” she said suddenly. “Where’s that photo of Leo I always liked?”

  I followed her gaze to the empty space on the mantel behind my desk. Then I remembered: the picture was in my purse. I had grabbed it for luck when I left for Angola.

  “So it was there when Avery was here earlier? For the lunch with gunshots?�
��

  “Yeah. What’s your point?”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “You don’t know the story behind that picture, Whiskey?”

  The way Jenx was giving me the fisheye I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know it. Here I’d thought it was just a nice picture of my now-dead dear love.

  But according to Jenx, ever since she hit town, Avery had been telling anyone who would listen that she wanted that photo of Leo because it belonged to her.

  I said, “Leo gave me that picture last Christmas.”

  “Do you know who took it? Or where?”

  I didn’t. “Are you saying Avery took that photo?”

  “That’s what Avery says. Look at the background. Can you tell where it is?”

  I fished the picture out of my purse.

  “Looks like the beach,” I said and passed it to Jenx.

  “What beach?” She examined the photo under my desk lamp.

  “Around here somewhere, probably.”

  “Look again.” Jenx tapped the glass. Next to her finger, in the background, was an image that seemed both strange and familiar—the way the Eiffel Tower might strike you if you finally noticed it in the background of an old family portrait.

  “That’s Christ the Redeemer!” I said.

  Jenx nodded. “Giant Jesus on the Mountain with His arms stretched out. Where is that?”

  “Rio.”

  “Rio where?”

  “de Janeiro,” I said hoarsely. “Brazil. You know--The Girl from Ipinima? That’s the beach in the song.”

  “I didn’t know you’d been there.”

  “I haven’t. Leo and I talked about going. But we never made it.”

  “Looks like Leo did.”

  I stared at the photo. He smiled back--happy, tanned, relaxed. All the qualities that made this picture one of my favorites.

  “So, Leo went to Brazil with Avery and didn’t tell you,” Jenx said.

  “If Avery took the picture. You’re sure she took the picture?”

  “You’d rather he was with somebody else?”

  “No! I’m sure it was Avery. If Avery says so.”

  “Avery says she took the picture, it’s supposed to be hers, and she wants it back.”

  “Then why doesn’t she ask me for it?”

  “She did. Remember Leo’s funeral? You told her to go to hell.”

  A sickening memory snaked across my mental view-finder.

  “Shit,” I said. “I did say that.”

  “I know. I was there. So was half of Magnet Springs.”

  I closed my eyes and willed the ugliness away. “Not a good scene.”

  “Awful,” Jenx agreed. “Avery accused you of stealing her picture, and you called her a ‘lying little manipulative bitch.’ But you were in bad shape. It was three days after the accident.”

  “I’m sorry I said it—even though I was right. She is a bitch. But Leo loved his daughter.”

  “Leo loved you. Like crazy. Everybody knew that.”

  I studied the photo. “Christ the Redeemer in the background. I can’t believe I never noticed it. Maybe I didn’t want to.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s not like you’re a trained observer.”

  “I’m a real estate professional! I notice things!”

  Jenx shrugged.

  I said, “You’re thinking Avery shattered my patio door just to get this photo of her father? Why would she pull a stunt like that when she’s pregnant?”

  “Avery didn’t break in. But she was right behind whoever did, probably some guy. Neither of them knew Mooney was here. When the guy saw the dog, he freaked and ran. In her present condition, Avery couldn’t.” Jenx unclipped a magnum flashlight from her hip. “Let’s take a look outside. I’ll bet we find two sets of footprints coming and one set running away.”

  We did. To my untrained eye, both sets looked like boot prints. The ones running away were smaller.

  “I don’t get why Avery thought she had to break in. I’d open the door for her anytime. Well, anytime I had to.”

  “Like I said, Avery went along with somebody. Somebody with a bigger agenda.”

  “Like a missing finger? Like a Cloud Ring?”

  “Let’s see if Avery can tell us.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk with my hostile pregnant stepdaughter so soon after her bungled burglary. But going back to bed wasn’t an option. Mooney and Chester were awake and chasing each other through the house. The two deputies sat in my kitchen drinking what was left of the coffee and brainstorming excuses to interview Cassina. When I said I was leaving, they fell all over themselves with promises to escort Chester home.

  At Coastal Medical Center, Avery was still in the ER. Jenx went to inquire about her condition while I sat in the waiting room watching early-morning TV with a handful of other miserable souls. Maybe it was the fluorescent lighting; maybe it was the ungodly hour. I couldn’t tell those waiting for family from those waiting for a doctor. Everybody looked sick.

  “She won’t see you,” Jenx announced. “She says you’re not family.”

  “Except when we’re discussing money. Will she see you?”

  “After she lawyers up. We’ve got to get her a public defender. Unless you want to hire somebody.”

  I stuck my tongue out.

  Jenx said, “She already made her one phone call—to Guess Who?”

  “Her mother.” My voice was flat with fatigue. “Can’t wait to see Georgia’s new boobs and tattoos.”

  “Nope. Avery called Antiques Boy in Angola. He’s on his way.”

  I was suddenly wide awake. “She phoned Darrin Keogh?”

  Jenx said, “Or should I call him Afghan-Breeder Boy? You know—the guy you were sure was a perv . . . till he bought you a beer and showed you his doggies.”

  My face got hot. “Darrin Keogh is nice. He even likes Avery. Wait till you meet him!”

  Jenx ignored me. “We’re taking Avery to the station as soon as she’s released. She and the babies checked out fine. Did you know she’s due this month? The OB-GYN says she could deliver any day now.”

  That news left me unable to do anything but go to work. When I opened the front door of Mattimoe Realty, Odette was already in her cubicle—on her third cup of coffee and her fourth phone call. Or so she whispered as I walked by. I’m in awe of her ability to pitch real estate before sunrise.

  I was pouring a cup of coffee when she announced, “Our Featured Home seller accepted Rico’s offer!”

  “Congratulations,” I said. “Now will he stop trying to ruin us?”

  “One would expect so. If the sale goes through.”

  “Will it?”

  Odette’s thin shoulders rose and fell. “The seller is a tad leery of Rico’s financing, and so am I. But he’s making a $30,000 deposit. He says he has sixty percent in available funds; the other forty will come from a private lender.”