“Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. Right after Mom got better and I started going around with old friends, I started dating again. Not often, and not just with one guy. There is one at work, a friend of a friend, and now Tom.”
“Send me your leftovers,” I joked.
“I’m not serious about any of them and the most I’ve gone out with one of them is three times and I’m not sleeping with any of them!”
“Okay, take it easy, I was kidding,” I cautioned.
“Sorry, but it’s getting to me.”
“What?” I said helpfully.
“Two months ago, I started looking over my shoulder when I’m out of the house and going to work, or let’s just say when I’m going anywhere.”
“Uh-oh.”
“God, I’m glad you understand so quickly. Sheri said that Bubba had stalked you for years, and that if anyone could understand, you could. I really don’t think she did.”
“Have you ever seen anyone following you?”
“No one. I see nothing that looks suspicious. I feel like I’m becoming a basket case. I feel eyes on me, Jo Beth. Someone is out there, I know it!”
“I believe that you’ve seen something or heard something that registered in your subconscious, only you can’t remember what it is. I have a simple way of explaining what’s happening. Your cavewoman’s senses have been activated. They’re warning you that you are in danger from someone. It’s sorta like when you have a spider on your shoulder and someone brushes it off. Hours later, you still can feel a spider crawling in the most unlikely places and try to keep brushing it away. Have you ever had that happen? The tiny sensors on the surface of your skin and hair follicles have been activated and minuscule particles like a snip of hair or even scaling skin can trigger that feeling again.”
“The weirdest thing happened a month ago.”
“Tell me.”
“I came home and my front door was unlocked. I tried the key and couldn’t turn it. I reached out and pushed and it swung open. Jo Beth, I can’t positively swear I locked it, but it’s a faithful habit with me. I always lock it!”
“Did you go inside without anyone with you?”
“Yes, I convinced myself that I had forgotten that morning to lock it.”
“Bad move. Don’t ever do it again. Did you find anything disturbed inside?”
“My imagination did. My toothbrush was in the wrong slot in the holder. I thought I could see an impression on the bedspread where a head had rested, but I had been running late that morning and more or less flipped the spread over the pillows, so I couldn’t be sure. My mother is shaking her head right now, saying I’m talking nonsense.”
No wonder she had told me she wasn’t sleeping with any of the three hopefuls. A daughter is always chaste in a Southern religious mother’s opinion, even after motherhood or divorce. If Alice Mae was having a male guest sleep over, she had to be discreet and slip him in after dark and out before daylight.
“You’re calling from your mother’s house?”
“My door to my cottage was standing ajar when I came home from work at two-thirty this afternoon.”
“You haven’t been inside?”
“I remembered Sheri’s dinner conversation about you and decided to call.”
“Stay inside with your mother. I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes.”
27
“The Forgotten Evidence”
October 17, Tuesday, 3:30 P.M.
I called Donnie Ray. He picked up the phone in Wayne’s office.
“Are you and Wayne busy right now?”
“No, ma’am. Wayne just finished feeding the new puppies, and I fed the rest. The dogs’ suppers are mixed. We’re just waiting until time to feed them. I’m playing a computer game and Wayne is reading. Need anything?”
“I need you to bring my van around to the porch steps, and for you to load the scent machine in my car and follow me. When we get to our destination, I’ll tell you what to do. Don’t forget the gauze pad. Tell Wayne you’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
“Should you be driving?”
“I can drive and use my right leg. It’s the left leg that’s sore. No problem, okay?”
“Yes’m. Be right there.”
Bobby Lee was delirious when I told him to fetch his leash and that he could go.
We waited in the drive until Donnie Ray drove out of the garage and pulled up beside us. He ran back to get my car while I loaded Bobby Lee and eased into the driver’s seat using the crutches. I saw Jasmine running down the apartment stairs, taking two or more steps at a time. I lowered both windows as she walked up to the van door.
“Do you need me to drive you?”
She spoke in a neutral tone of voice, but I sensed her disapproval.
“I’m fine,” I said with a smile. “But thanks for asking.”
She stood there expecting an explanation. She turned her head and watched Donnie Ray pull my car behind the van and wait with the motor running.
“Are you sure you don’t need me?”
She now looked worried. A small frown appeared.
“Positive. See you later.” I pulled off and left her standing there. As I slowed at the inside gate to pull onto the driveway, I glanced back and she was staring at me. I felt better. She was worried about me. I should have relieved her mind, or invited her to join me, but I still felt betrayed to a certain extent. I knew it was silly, but I was just perverse enough to leave her in the dark and let her stew.
It was less than two miles to Alice Mae’s mother’s home. I pulled up to the modest house on Sycamore Drive and tooted the horn. She ran out to greet me, and stopped short when she saw Bobby Lee with his head out the window.
“Meet Bobby Lee,” I said as I moved him over to the empty space between the seat and connected him to his seat belt.
“Does he bite?”
“One caress and he’s a friend for life. Hop in and ride around to your door with me.” She slid into the seat and closed the door cautiously, keeping her eye on him. I put my hand on his left shoulder.
“Shake hands with your left paw, Bobby Lee.”
He solemnly offered his left. She laughed. “He always puts out his left paw, right?”
I casually dropped my right hand on Bobby Lee’s right shoulder.
“Use your right, sweetheart.”
He obligingly stuck out his right. She gasped. “He really knows his left from his right!”
“Not really. He was born blind, and I trained him with hand signals on his shoulders. He has the ability to see now, but he still needs the hand signals.”
“How did he gain his sight, with surgery?”
“Nope. Over a few weeks’ period, he acted skittish and had me worried. The vet thinks it was a blood clot that eventually was absorbed into his system that had been blocking the optic nerve.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that you’re working with dogs now. I remember the dog you had in the third grade that got run over. We all thought you were gonna die. I heard my mother tell a neighbor that you were gonna dry up and blow away, you had lost so much weight.”
“It was a bad time for me; I had just lost my mother. All I ever wanted to do was raise bloodhounds. I just had to work for several years to be able to start.”
“Are you having fun?”
“They are my reason for rising early every morning. They are eating me into bankruptcy, but I couldn’t imagine life without them.”
I pulled around the driveway and stopped at the door of the cottage.
“Who’s in the car behind us?” Alice’s voice was sharp.
“Donnie Ray, my videographer for the kennel. He’s bringing the scent machine, and will set it up. I don’t get around too well on these crutches.”
We got out, and I hobbled to the door. Donnie Ray joined us, and I introduced Alice. Mrs. Carter had walked around the house, and appeared with a baseball bat.
“Just in case,” she said defensively as she saw th
e three of us staring at her.
Alice was embarrassed. “Mother, for Pete’s sake!”
“A practical woman is a prepared woman,” I said, grinning at Mrs. Carter. “Do you know how to use it?”
“Alice’s father liked to shag flies in the spring. I was the one who hit them to him. I can handle a bat.”
“Good. I’m sure if there was an intruder, he’s long gone, but we’ll stay out here until Donnie Ray checks.”
I put on a pair of thin gloves, opened the filter that Donnie Ray brought, and loaded it in the top of the scent machine.
“Set the machine on the floor by the bed. Plug it in, and take a quick glance under the bed, behind the shower curtain, and in the closet. I want you back out here in thirty seconds, don’t dally.”
I held the screen door and gave the front door a nudge. He slipped in, and I pulled it shut behind him.
“Want to contain the existing air inside,” I explained. We stood waiting for him to return. He was back in forty seconds.
“What took you so long?”
“There were three closets,” he replied, aiming his glance upward. He knew I was kidding.
“How long does it have to run?” Mrs. Carter inquired.
“I’ll give it five minutes. That should be sufficient.”
“I understand the concept, from Alice’s explanation, but won’t the air have other scents?”
“Well, the theory is that Alice’s and yours have had time to settle in the several hours since you’ve been in there. The prevalent scent, of the intruder, if there has been an intruder, should be still floating around in the dust motes and tiny currents of air. That’s why I had Donnie Ray in and out so quickly.”
We all stood and listened to the small hum we could barely hear coming from the cottage. It sounded as if a vacuum was being used in a faraway bedroom.
When the five minutes had passed, I sent Donnie Ray back inside to retrieve it. On the small stoop, I removed the filter pad of gauze, still wearing my gloves, and double-bagged it into gallon Ziploc bags.
“Label it and stick it in the freezer. I’ll be along shortly,” I told Donnie Ray.
Alice and her mother insisted that I stay and visit for a while, but I begged off, pleading some heavy reading on a present case.
“Invite your three suspects and a few people over for drinks as soon as possible. Put me on the guest list. I don’t want to drag this out; I’m worried about you being stalked. Get a new lock on your door tomorrow. See you soon.”
Back home, I settled in the office, and decided that ten suspects to juggle was way too many. I would make a list of all of them, showing only their city of residence, occupation, and brief alibi for the time when Amelia was kidnapped. Maybe I could narrow the number of suspects while being sure their alibis were airtight. An hour later, with the list finished, I stood up to stretch, and admired how neat it looked. I typed it so I would be able to read it in the future.
SUSPECTS
Celia Cancannon, private secretary, on island, inside working.
Rand Finch, helicopter pilot, off island, picking up supplies.
Cathy Cancannon Kingsley, unemployed, Bethesda, MD, home alone.
Larry (Cathy’s husband) Kingsley, unemployed, Bethesda, MD, fund-raising party, Washington, DC
Teri Cancannon Halbert, designer, Lathrap, CA, her office, then home alone.
Phillip (Teri’s husband) Halbert, CPA, Lathrap, CA, works in his home office, then home alone.
Sabrina Cancannon Wilder, public radio, Atlanta, GA, on the air, then home.
Paul (Sabrina’s husband) Wilder, real estate broker, Atlanta, GA, his office, then dinner out.
Cynthia Cancannon Ross, unemployed, Kalamazoo, MI, shopping, then home alone.
Steven (Cynthia’s husband) Ross, lawyer, Kalamazoo, MI, office, dinner with client, then home alone.
I studied the list, then eyed the heavy stack of reports already accumulated, and decided to make them more manageable. I pulled out one of the many summaries and began clipping them, and pasting the articles on an individual page for each suspect.
I heard the first gate alarm and from my kitchen window watched Jasmine drive through the second gate and garage her car. I stood in the dark and watched her climb her stairs and enter her apartment without glancing once in my direction.
I resented the fact that she was ignoring me. She was making too much of our little spat. Common courtesy dictated that she should have stuck her nose in my door and asked how I felt, and if I needed anything. It was only 10:00 P.M. and my light was on in the office. She knew I would be checking to make sure it was her returning from her college class and not Bubba with his baseball bat. I hardened my heart. There would be no apology from me tomorrow, or in this millennium. I could out-stubborn her any day of the week.
I went back to my pile of papers, and finally finished cutting out and pasting all the alibis that had been verified on their individual sheets. It was after midnight. My eye settled on the top sheet, which was number ten on the list. It was Steven Ross, Cynthia’s husband, from Kalamazoo, Michigan. His alibi had been checked several different ways. His client, who had been his dinner companion, had been questioned, and the waiter had picked out Ross’s picture. The restaurant had looked up the dinner check that had been charged on Ross’s credit card, which had a register printout time of 10:35 P.M.
He couldn’t have traveled even by private jet to get to the island within the time frame.
I felt justified in using an orange-colored highlight pen and boldly crossing him off the list, thus eliminating my first suspect. And then there were nine.
28
“Nailing the Stalker”
October 21, Saturday, 3:00 P.M.
Wayne was weighing the masterpiece litter, and I was charting their gains with satisfaction. They were little wrinkled butterballs.
Wayne grinned at the last one as he placed him back in the puppy cart.
“They are doing great!” I signed. “I regret that we can’t keep one, but we don’t have the time to show it and give it the right ring training. All of these deserve to be champions. At least we’ll be mentioned as the breeder, that should give the kennel some good publicity. I suspect we’ll be getting a lot of phone calls seven or eight months down the road about these guys when they start in the ring.”
Wayne nodded his agreement and began signing.
“Can I ask you a personal question without you getting angry at me?”
“Certainly.” I bit back my reluctance. I might as well answer him and get it over with. The situation between Jasmine and myself still remained mired in an impasse. I couldn’t very well tell Wayne it was none of his business. I suspected that he and Donnie Ray were on the receiving end of our short tempers and had gotten a lot of snappy retorts they didn’t deserve. You could cut the tension with a knife. Jasmine and I were trying to act cool, disinterested, and haughty to each other. All our nerves were wearing thin. Ours from the strained relationship, and theirs from being available and within firing range.
“When are you and Jasmine gonna make up?”
“She started it, not me.”
“But you’re the boss. It’s up to you, not her, to smooth it over.”
“Sounds like you’re now choosing sides, and you think it’s my fault. You can tell her, if you wish, that I will be glad to accept her apology and end this nonsense.”
The speed of his signing accelerated.
“I wouldn’t pass on that message on a bet. I’m too young to die. It’s your place to apologize!”
“In a pig’s eye.”
“Donnie Ray and I are serving notice. Any time in the future when you and Jasmine meet in our presence, we are going to disappear, regardless of what we’re doing. We don’t want to be victims or witnesses. Okay?”
“Read and understood. Anything else you wish to add?”
He signed so rapidly, I couldn’t assimilate his mes- sage. He threw up his hands and left. If I didn’
t know better I would swear he had been cursing, but Wayne never uses cuss words.
Back in the office I decided to call Patricia Ann Newton and thank her on the phone instead of writing a bread-and-butter note for the lovely dinner she prepared for me last evening. I’m sure Miss Manners wouldn’t approve.
Yesterday I had visited the SPCA kennel at five. I ran into Patricia, who spends many hours there each week doing volunteer work. I had met her at the beginning of this year, while I was working to solve an old murder case, and we had become casual friends. She donated a lot of money to the kennel, and also gave freely to some of my special projects.
On the spur of the moment, she urged me to go home with her, promising to prepare dinner for us. I accepted the invitation with alacrity. I had dreaded the thought of sitting home alone, waiting to see if either Jasmine or Susan would come to our regular Friday girl’s night. I suspected both of them would be no-shows. I had an excellent dinner, stimulating conversation, and was back home before ten. I read more reports and went to bed at midnight, without eliminating any of the remaining suspects.
Patricia answered her own phone, something she wouldn’t have done back in January.
“This is Jo Beth, and I wanted to thank you again for the lovely dinner last night.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I was spellbound with some of the local stories you shared with me. I’ve fallen more deeply in love with this town of ours with each day that passes. I’ll be a Southerner before you know it.”
“You were born in the South, and don’t you forget it. Spending thirty years in the Big Apple doesn’t cancel your Southern heritage.”
Ten Little Bloodhounds Page 19