Ten Little Bloodhounds

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Ten Little Bloodhounds Page 22

by Virginia Lanier


  I suppressed a smirk as he approached us.

  “You borrowed that from a friend?”

  “Yep, not all Southerners are as touchy as you are. I have a couple of Southern friends.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” I murmured. “Let me introduce you to my roommates. The small one is Rudy, and the big one is Bobby Lee. Shake hands, guys.”

  I was shocked speechless when Rudy casually raised a paw to Rand, who had squatted before him. He acted as if he had been shaking hands daily since he was a kitten. I could only stare as Rand reached out and rubbed his knuckles under Rudy’s chin.

  “It’s rare to see a such a well-trained cat,” Rand commented.

  “If you only knew,” I said with awe.

  I was still having trouble believing what I had seen, that Rudy had actually shaken hands with a stranger. I dropped my hand to Bobby Lee’s shoulder, and he stuck out a paw.

  Rand rubbed Bobby Lee’s ears and leaned closer, and said something that I couldn’t hear. Rising, he gave me a warm smile.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That he was a lucky dog.”

  “Uh-huh.” Staring into his eyes, I felt uncomfortable. “Where are my manners? Come on in.”

  I held the screen door until he was inside, then the animals and I followed him in. He stood and surveyed the room slowly, turning so he could see it all. I sat in an armchair and, when I caught his eye, nodded to indicate that he sit opposite me. He remained standing.

  “Have long have you lived here?”

  “Almost seven years.”

  “Do the two young men I saw on my earlier visit live here with you?”

  “They live in an upstairs apartment to the left of the kennels.”

  “Are they currently upstairs?”

  “I suppose so, I haven’t heard them leave.” My ears began to tingle. The questions were innocent enough, but I was beginning to feel as if I was being interrogated, not just having a casual conversation.

  “Who lives next door?” He nodded his head in the direction of Jasmine’s apartment.

  My ear tingle was augmented with a flush starting at my neckline and slowly rising to cover my face and creep into my hair. What was with this guy?

  “No one.” I didn’t expand my answer to cover Jasmine’s expected arrival. I wanted to know where he was going with this.

  “I thought you had a female associate who lived here, at least that was what I was told.”

  The ear tingle increased, although the blush had faded. His question had been quick and sharp. I shifted in the chair, and crossed my leg.

  “I did until Saturday night,” I said smoothly. “That’s when she moved out. Are we playing twenty questions?”

  “Sorry,” he said, giving me a boyish grin and sliding into the chair in front of me. He didn’t sit back relaxed, but perched on the edge of the seat with his hands clasped between his knees

  “I did sound odd, didn’t I? I wanted to make sure that you would be free to go out tonight for a little while. I have something I want to show you. It will only take a few minutes.”

  “I’m sorry, Rand, I tried to tell you over the phone when you called, but you didn’t hear me because of a lousy connection. I can’t go anywhere tonight. I have someone coming over later.”

  Rand tipped his head and regarded me somberly.

  “When’s he due?”

  “Within the hour.”

  Don’t ask me why I lied. I was relying on my ear tingle. It has fooled me a few times, but generally its presence signals that something isn’t quite right. Mostly I feel it when the motor doesn’t run smooth in the van, and I anticipate major surgery will be required on its innards. It also appeared last month when the refrigerator added a strange ping whenever the fan motor came on. I joke about intuition, but I pay attention every time I experience it.

  I stood quickly and stepped out of his reach, and forced a laugh.

  “Sorry, I have to use the restroom, be right back.”

  I took off down the hall, with Bobby Lee right behind me.

  “You silly boy,” I said cheerfully to Bobby Lee, “I don’t need you along!”

  I was talking to cover my steps. I rattled the doorknob once, pulled it closed, then released the knob and left the door standing open. Moving quickly, I tiptoed silently into my bedroom, and eased open the night-stand drawer. I grabbed the .32, opened the cylinder, and fed six rounds in the chamber one by one, trying not to let them clink together as I handled them.

  I stuffed the small gun in the back of my jeans and rested it against my lower spine. God knows the jeans were tight enough that it wouldn’t slip. I pulled the heavy shirt over the slight bulge to hide it.

  I walked gingerly back to the bathroom, flushed, and rattled the knob again. We went back into the office a lot slower than when we left it.

  “Where were we?” I inquired good-naturedly as I returned to my seat.

  Rand was sitting in the same chair, but he had slid back in its depths and crossed his legs. He didn’t look threatening at all. I began to feel silly. Maybe my sneaky trip to arm myself hadn’t been necessary. I relaxed in the chair, very aware of the cold steel on my skin and the pressure on my backside.

  “I was telling you that I have something I want you to see. I want you to come with me. Ten minutes there, five minutes to see it, and ten minutes back. Will you come?”

  I checked his voice and his lazy smile. I knew right then that I wouldn’t get in a car with this man if he was the last man on earth and owned the only car that functioned.

  I returned his smile. “Sorry, not tonight.”

  He shrugged. “How’s the investigation going? Imagine our surprise when Master John Jason Jackson told us that you would be handling a private investigation into Alyce’s murder, independent from the official one.”

  “We?” I raised one brow.

  “There I go grouping myself with the Cancannons, and everybody knows I’m not part of the clan. I am, however, one of the people named in the will, and it was that we I meant.”

  “You’re also one of the prime suspects in her murder.”

  “Prime? Why do you say prime? I’m no more of a suspect than any of the other nine. What gave you that idea?”

  He had managed to sound indignant. I laughed at his expression. This is one of the reasons I wanted to be a problem-solver. These conversations charged with innuendoes are right up my alley.

  “Come on, you were on the scene and don’t have an airtight alibi.”

  “Don’t you think I’m smart enough if I knew I would need an alibi, meaning if I snatched the cat and killed Alyce, that I would have a good one in place? The fact that I don’t have a perfect one should point to my innocence, not guilt.”

  “Uh-huh. What about Celia’s alibi? Are you saying her lack of an alibi means she’s innocent also?”

  “Celia doesn’t mean squat to me. She’s not my problem. Neither are the others.”

  “Really? That’s strange. It’s obvious that she adores you. You’re gonna abandon her?”

  “Abandon her, what do you mean by that? She’s nothing to me. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  His voice had risen with each sentence uttered. He squirmed in his seat and seemed agitated. I decided I had pushed him as far as I cared to tonight.

  “Relax. I’m just trying to fit everyone’s relationships that are germane into the proper prospective. Sorry if I upset you.” I made a show of staring at my watch and producing a frown. “I wish we could continue this conversation, but I’m running late. My company will be here soon.”

  I rose briskly to make my point. I wanted him out of here. My ears were not only tingling; they felt like they were on fire. The flush had returned to my face. My eyes were lowered, and I was straightening the waistband of my new T-shirt. I saw him beginning to rise from his seat, and I turned to escort him to the door when he struck.

  Before I knew what was happening, he caught me during my turn and wrappe
d his left arm around my neck, and with my right arm behind me, he was forcing it upward to a painful height. I rose on my toes, trying to ease the pain. I was attempting to arch my back to keep his body away from mine. I didn’t want him to feel the hard object lodged near my spine. He snickered.

  “Ready for a little ride?”

  32

  “Riding the Terror Train”

  October 23, Monday, 10:00 P.M.

  I was completely powerless, and it’s hard to think while someone’s trying to separate your right arm from your shoulder. I decided to act like a helpless female, which was exactly what I was.

  “Please … Stop … You’re hurting me! Please …”

  While I was giving an Oscar performance, he was forcing me into the kitchen. It was essential for him to keep me on my feet so I could help him navigate, so the pressure on my arm eased somewhat.

  “You got any duct tape?”

  He was breathing heavily through his mouth. He had expended a lot of effort moving a reluctant one hundred-thirty-pounder, which should have given me an edge, but unfortunately my own breath was more labored than his. I felt like I had gone a round with Ali.

  After two upward yanks on my arm, I told him where the duct tape was kept. He forced me to my knees, put a knee in my chest, and stretched me out flat. I knew my spine was splintered by the gun that was between the floor and me. Hope died as he brought my arms forward and began taping them in front. I had already mentally practiced flexing my wrists bound behind me, so I wouldn’t drop the gun when I fished it out and shot him dead. Scratch that plan.

  He pulled me up and wrestled me back into the office, prudently keeping me more or less by his side. Our thoughts were on the same subject. I longed to get a strong kick in his nether region and he was determined to deter me. He pushed me into a chair and stood close, his legs hugging mine.

  “You try to scream for your boys, and I’ll gag you with my socks.”

  “I promise I won’t scream.”

  I meant it; it would be wasted energy. Wayne was deaf, and Donnie Ray’s radio earplugs appeared surgically implanted during his waking hours. There was no one to hear.

  He paced restlessly around the room, keeping me within view at all times. Time was passing and I knew that Jasmine would walk right into this nightmare if he kept delaying whatever he was gonna do. I had to do something.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “All I wanted to do was take you for a little ride, introduce you to my new buddy, but no. You wouldn’t go willingly. All this hassle is your fault!”

  “Well, now that you’ve explained, I think I’d like to go. I like surprises.”

  “Now you decide to go,” he jeered. “Why didn’t you do that a while ago? Then I wouldn’t have missed the first meet. You women are all alike!”

  I was filing away his skimpy clues and trying to decide how to get him moving.

  “I gather that you arranged a later date to meet this buddy? Tell you what. Why don’t we drive around while we’re waiting for the time to pass? Let’s go.”

  I stood. He was behind me, and I couldn’t see his face to gauge his reaction to my suggestion. I was pulled backward and shoved back into the seat.

  “Sit and shut up!”

  “Listen,” I said, trying to judge his reaction to my inability to keep quiet. “Why do this the hard way? If you move me one foot from this chair while I’m bound and without my permission, it’s kidnapping. You’re an intelligent man, and know I’m telling the truth. Why risk something going wrong and serving a long prison sentence? You can avoid this by simply cutting this tape off and escorting me to your car. Surely you can see I’m sincere.

  “You haven’t threatened me with a weapon or told me that I was going to be hurt in any way. Let’s just get out of here, and on our way to meet your friend. I’ll hush now and let you think it over. What have you got to lose?”

  I tried to read his expression as he listened, and I thought I saw apprehension and fear flit across his face. He opened his mouth and laughed. Guess not.

  He spoke slowly and seemed to be enjoying himself. Some men get off on having a woman beg for favors when she is in a precarious position. I couldn’t tell if he was one of them.

  “Jo Beth, you are something else. All you have said is true. I would be wise to listen, if I was only taking you to meet my friend, having a few drinks, and bringing you back before midnight, but it’s a little more intense than that. Let this be a lesson to you, that you really shouldn’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. What do you think your big dog will do if I drag you out of here?”

  “What he’s doing right now, sleeping. I could be kicking and screaming and calling out to him, and he wouldn’t do a blasted thing!”

  I tried to sound disgusted that Bobby Lee wouldn’t be any help. I must have convinced him. He gave me a confident smile.

  “You don’t have a clue what’s in store for you, do you?”

  “Why don’t you enlighten me, so we’ll both know?”

  I said it quietly and without rancor. My chest felt tight, and I didn’t want to explore his clues. They were too scary.

  “My new friend is your old friend. Technically speaking, he was at one time. Sure you don’t want three guesses?”

  I couldn’t speak. My chest turned to ice and I struggled to breathe in a lung full of air.

  “If you mean my ex-husband, Bubba Sidden, you will be guilty of conspiracy to murder one. You’ll get the chair!”

  My words were whispered, but I was proud I managed to tell him the crime he would be committing, and the punishment. At least I let him know I knew his fate, if he were caught. I felt numb. The icy feeling was spreading into my limbs and up into my head. I rested my head on the chair back and closed my eyes. I wanted to sleep.

  “Don’t be so melodramatic!” he said, seemingly enjoying himself. “I can understand that you don’t look forward to a beating. It’ll be a few broken bones, which is only assault, and I won’t be the one wielding the bat. You are as healthy as a horse, for God’s sake. It won’t kill you!”

  I roused from my stupor when his words penetrated my brain. Might as well give it a go.

  “You idiot,” I said, temporarily silenced by a wide yawn. I didn’t open my eyes. “You call up … You call up the editor of the Dunston County Daily Times. Tell him that someone told you that Bubba would kill Jo Beth, if he can get his hands on her. Say you’re a friend of his, and don’t believe it. Fred will set you straight and won’t ask any questions. What have you got to lose but the rest of your life?”

  “You’re lying,” he yelled.

  “Like hell I am,” I said without emphasis.

  I raised my head and watched him as he thought it over. I saw resolve and the tiny negative motion of his head and knew I had failed.

  “I’m going to the kitchen, and watching you every second. You move out of that chair, you will be sorry!”

  “I’m too scared to run,” I whimpered.

  I counted several seconds, then leaned my head around the chair back to see what he was doing. He was coming toward me with a pair of scissors in his hand. I screwed up my face and started whining.

  “Don’t hurt me … Please … I was just looking … Please!”

  “Shut up,” he said with contempt. “I liked you better when you acted like a bitch! Dreading that beating, I guess. I’m going to cut the tape off your hands. You try anything, anything at all, I’ll stab you with these, okay?”

  “Please, please don’t …”

  I lowered my lids so he couldn’t read the expression on my face as he pulled and whacked at the tape. I was elated. I didn’t know his reasoning, but I was hoping he no longer considered me a flight risk. I would be easier to move without the secured wrists, and he could deny any wrongdoing up to minute he handed me over to Bubba. He might have been listening to what I said. I didn’t care what made him change his mind, all I cared about was that I had a chance to get free.

&nb
sp; He ripped the cut tape from my wrists, taking all the hairs that were caught underneath, and several small hunks of hide and flesh. I’m allergic to the glue in duct tape, and most other types of stickums. I flinched and gave little jumps and grimaced, but I didn’t feel a thing. I was so pumped with adrenaline, I could have floated on air out the door and into the borrowed truck.

  He had me drawn close to his side with a strong grip on my arm. I leaned my weight against him, and pretended weakness. He had to assist me into the truck because of the extra five inches from the ground. I sat there and didn’t attempt to close the door. He was halfway around the truck when he saw I hadn’t closed it. He came back and slammed it harder than necessary, mumbling something under his breath.

  I had been clenching and unclenching my fingers from the second he cut the tape. They were fine and would react as fast as they always did. I saw myself reaching for the hidden gun, and shooting Rand as he climbed into the truck. I had plenty of time and knew I was capable of pulling the trigger to save my life. I sat there calmly and didn’t move a muscle. I didn’t like the thoughts that were running through my mind.

  I could end all the uncertainty tonight. It was within my power to shoot Bubba and Rand, and not be censured. There was the tape with Rand’s fingerprints and my bloody wrists. A pair of my scissors was in his pocket. I banished the thoughts, but they came back quickly, settling in and assuring me that I could do this, that I had the right to do this. I shook them off.

  As Rand climbed into the truck, the front gate alarm sounded. It startled Rand.

  “What was that?” He must have been playing his radio with the windows rolled up in the truck when he arrived; it had rung then too.

  “The front gate,” I whined. “If it’s my boyfriend coming in the drive, let me get rid of him. I don’t want him hurt. If it’s my maid, let me leave her orders, or she will alert the others, and he still might get hurt. Please? I’ll take the beating.”

 

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