“Not really. I’ve met Pete a couple times, but I wouldn’t say we were the kind of neighbors who borrow things from each other. We keep to ourselves and he keeps to himself. I was sorry to hear about his ex-wife though and double sorry that he had to be the one to make the discovery.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine.”
“Who’s we?” Blake leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“Hmm?”
“You said, we keep to ourselves.”
“Oh, you’re doing the police thing, aren’t cha? I heard you used to be a detective. Back in Minnesota, right?” Heath crossed his arms over his denim jacket, and breathed out a laugh, short on humor and long on cynicism. “I guess we’ll always be playing for opposing teams.”
“I’m not a cop anymore. I’m a private eye. And you never answered the question. Someone else live here with you?”
“Just the pups and me. Arthur and Agatha count, don’t they?”
Shelby noticed there were no games or game player near the TV and the only reading material was a couple of water-damaged magazines sitting on the rickety table at the end of the couch. A piece of knotted rope lay on the floor at her feet. Other than the television, the room did not look humanly habitable. In fact, it looked more like a doghouse.
Arthur wandered in from the kitchen where he’d obviously been getting a drink. Water dripped from his jowls and onto Blake’s jeans when he jumped up on the couch beside him and laid his head on his lap. A low growl indicated he wasn’t happy about sharing the space.
“This is Arthur’s bed, isn’t it?” Blake said, his voice tight with anger. “You invite us in and have us sit on your dog’s bed. You think that’s funny?”
Heath howled with laughter and slapped his thigh. “Darn right, it’s funny! I wish I had a camera. Oh, wait!” He pulled out his cell phone and took a picture before Blake could get out from under the weight of Arthur’s head and stand.
“You know what? Now I remember why I never liked you. You’re a jerk.”
“Aw, don’t be a sore loser. You had it coming. Remember the first time I saw you down at Luanne’s Café after you came back home? You were all friendly like, asking me about my time in the pen, but you didn’t bother to mention you were a cop. I was just having a little fun with you.” He slipped his phone back in his jacket pocket and held out a hand. “Truce?”
With a pained look on his face, Blake shook Heath’s hand. He dipped his chin toward the television. “So why’s that in here?”
“Agatha and Arthur like to watch Animal Planet. Come on in the kitchen. I’ll let you sit on people chairs.”
Blake slipped a chunk of beef jerky from his pocket and let Arthur chomp it down. He patted his head. “Thanks for sharing your bed, Arthur.”
Across the hall, the kitchen was as bright as Arthur’s room was dark. It reminded Shelby of a hazardous waste sign. The walls, painted a shade of sunflower yellow with a hint of neon were accented with black appliances. Above the stove hung a black and white clock in the shape of a cat, the tail below ticking out the time. A small table and four chairs took up the middle of the kitchen, serving both for preparation and dining. Celery, carrots, onions, and peppers were spread out around a cutting board.
“I was in the middle of fixing soup when you two showed up,” Heath explained, moving the vegetables to the sink. He waved with the paring knife in his hand. “Sit down. Makes yourselves comfy.”
“Sorry about interrupting your dinner,” Shelby said, taking a chair.
Blake settled next to her. “You know we didn’t randomly drop by for a Sunday afternoon visit, so why don’t I just get down to it and you can get back to making soup.”
“Suits me.” Heath turned and leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter, arms crossed, face impassive.
“You’re acquainted with a man named Dalton Guthrie. I heard you two spent some quality time together in Marquette Branch.”
“Is that a question?”
“No, but this is. Where is he?”
“How the heck should I know? Just because we served time together doesn’t mean we’re attached with an ankle bracelet.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, jamming his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “When I was released, I never intended to set eyes on his surly mug again.”
“You never intended to, but you did, didn’t you? He showed up asking for a favor. And you owed him. Right?”
“Fine. He got me out of a couple jams inside. It’s a dangerous place behind bars if you don’t have anyone looking out for you. I made some promises. So I set him up with a lady lawyer. Got him a job when he was released. Let him crash here for a couple nights. But that’s all,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Nothing illegal. I swear.”
“What about after Sadie was murdered?” Shelby asked. “Did he ask for your help then?”
“What? No. Why would he?”
Blake pulled out his notebook and flipped through it until he came to the page he wanted. “Michigan requires licensing of snowmobiles. I looked up your records and you have two. Did you happen to let Guthrie borrow one the other day?”
“I may have. Why do you ask?”
“Because he attacked my wife and shoved her into a mirror that day. He put her in the hospital with a concussion. Do you see the scabs and bruises? That was Guthrie’s doing. Afterwards, he fled on your snowmobile.”
“Blake.” Shelby warned softly, color filling her cheeks. Both men stared at her as though she were an inanimate object. “I don’t think this is helping.”
“Where was this exactly?” Heath asked, obviously confused.
“At Sadie’s house. Pete gave us a key. We didn’t realize Guthrie was already there when we went inside.” Shelby put a hand to her cheek. “This is nothing. Really. Blake is being over-protective. I’m sure you had no idea something like this could happen when you loaned your...”
“Of course not. I would never…” he caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “Look, Dalton isn’t really a bad guy. He’s had some bad breaks and he does have a bit of a temper, but…”
“I know. He’s misunderstood, right?” Blake ground out. “He was sent to prison because he accidentally threw his friend off the roof and killed him. Then when he was released, he coincidentally began dating the woman who worked for the lawyer you… and I quote… set him up with. A few weeks later, she’s found dead and buried a mile down the road from here.”
Heath wiped a hand across his mouth. He turned a chair around and straddled it, crossing his arms over the back. “What are you really here for? Are you trying to clear Pete’s name by looking for a scapegoat? I don’t know anything. You obviously think Dalton had something to do with Sadie’s death. I had no idea he was even seeing her.”
Blake got up and opened the refrigerator. “You really don’t have anything but beer. I could really use a diet cola.”
“Sorry, I only stock those for the ladies, and I’m all out.”
“You must be quite the ladies man, huh?” Shelby said, seeing the flattened cardboard container of an empty 12-pack of soda sticking out of the trash, along with the remains of a tangled ball of red twine.
He followed her gaze, but rather than exhibiting his usual nonchalance at her observation, he quickly reached out and shoved the cardboard further down in the trashcan. “I do what I can. Since Achy Breaky here is off the market, us second-stringers have to pull our weight and then some.”
She rolled her eyes. “Does everyone know that silly nickname?”
Blake earned the name Achy Breaky in high school. According to Tucker, Blake broke so many hearts in town he had to start dating girls from the next county. He’d been the star quarterback his senior year, and whether she liked it or not, was still a bit of a star with some of the women in town. Like Cynthia.
Blake gave up on the cola and closed the fridge. He moved to look out the window above the tiny porcelain sink before turning back to Heath. “Where’s your partner?”
&n
bsp; “My partner?”
“Don’t play dumb. Bart Linder was with you at the café that day. You said he was your partner in a new business venture. Remember?”
“Um…”
“I know Guthrie works for Linder Construction. So Bart should know where to find him. And you should know where to find Bart. Because he’s your partner.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Blake moved so fast it took them both by surprise. Shelby gasped when her husband grabbed Heath by the collar of his flannel shirt and hauled him to his feet. He shoved him against the wall and pinned him there, his face an inch away as he ground out the words. “I don’t care if you are growing pot out of your chimney. I am trying to clear an innocent man of murder and find a killer before he hurts somebody else. Are you going to help me or hinder me?”
Shelby thought he might as well have asked: are you going to be my friend or my enemy? Heath was a guy who liked to scoot under the fence when it came to the law and Blake was once the man who patrolled that fence. Nevertheless, Heath seemed to respect Blake’s desire to follow a moral code even if he didn’t. Asking him to choose between helping an old friend and making an enemy out of a new friend was maybe not the best way to handle a guy like Heath.
“Hey man, take it easy.” Heath put his hands up in surrender until Blake eased back. “Look, I had no idea Dalton was seeing Sadie Dugan. But I knew he was seeing someone. He even talked about asking the woman to marry him. So why would he turn around and kill her?”
Blake stepped away, blinking as though the light hurt his eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard women say, ‘He loves me. He didn’t mean to hurt me. It was my fault. I provoked him,’ after I was called to a home where a woman had been beaten within an inch of her life?” He pointed his finger at Heath’s chest. “You said yourself that Guthrie has an anger management problem.”
“I never said that. I said he had a temper. He manages it quite well.” He gave a nervous laugh. “You know first-hand how annoying I can be, Blake. Remember the hard time I used to give you on the football field? When you were calling out numbers?”
“How could I forget?”
“I’d sing that song under my breath, just loud enough for you to hear and get distracted. Our linemen tackled you more than a couple times with that ploy.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that Guthrie can barely abide me. But unlike you… he’s never hit me, and I push all his buttons. If he loved her he wouldn’t hurt her.”
“He’s not above hurting women. He hurt Shelby.”
“Okay,” Heath pushed away from the wall and got up in Blake’s face. “What’s this really about? I thought you’d be over it by now, but apparently you’re still harboring a little resentment.”
“About what?”
“That I had your prom date in your coach’s car.” He grinned at the shock on Blake’s face. “Yeah, I saw you walk by and look in. You were always Mr. Goody two shoes. Bet you got an eyeful, huh?”
Shelby saw Blake’s fists clench. She jumped up and stepped between them before more damage was done. “Stop! Just stop now. What is wrong with you two? High school was a million years ago. Get over it.”
“Leave. Now.” Heath spat the words like verbal punches. “Don’t bother to stop by again. I’m not answering anymore of your questions. You cops are all the same. Always trying to set somebody up to take the fall so you can get your accolades and slaps on the back.”
“That’s not true, Heath. Blake isn’t like that and you know it. He just wants to find Sadie’s killer.”
“Forget it, Shel.” Blake grabbed her hand. “We’re out of here.”
Outside, they heard the front door slam behind them.
Agatha darted out from under the porch and tried to jump in the car with Blake but he shooed her away and closed the door. The little dog, tail down, wandered back to the porch and sat on the bottom step watching their departure.
Shelby glanced at Blake as he turned the car and bumped over the gravel road. She didn’t know what to think about the recent exchange. Was he really upset about Heath’s confession or was it something else? She waited until he turned onto the highway and headed back to Port Scuttlebutt before reaching out and giving his shoulder a squeeze.
“Is there something I should know about? You seemed awfully upset. I know domestic abuse is a huge thing and much more common than people realize but…” She broke off, suddenly understanding.
He cleared his throat and slanted her a glance before fixing his eyes back on the road. “It hit me like a fist to the gut. My father murdered my mother and nobody even questioned her death. She never got justice.”
“I’m so sorry. I should have realized how this case would affect you.”
When Blake was a young boy his dad had drowned his mom and then told people she’d gone out for an early morning swim and hadn’t come back. After her bruised and battered body was found washed up on the shore of Lake Superior, rumors started that she’d actually committed suicide. Growing up in Port Scuttlebutt, Blake heard the rumors from time to time and even though he didn’t want to believe them, he lived with the fear that his mother chose to leave because she didn’t want him anymore. Until a few months ago… when they’d learned the truth.
He flipped his blinker on and passed a slow moving vehicle. “I don’t want to make a mistake. What if Pete is a master liar like my dad was? What if this is all a big manipulation? He murdered his wife because he was tired of supporting her, tired of her nagging. He’d found a beautiful, vibrant, young woman to warm his bed and he didn’t want to mess it up. Sadie came by to harangue him again and he lost it. In a moment of anger, he killed her. When he realized she was dead, he knew he’d be the number one suspect. So instead of taking her body somewhere far away and dumping her, he buried her nice and close. And then discovered her himself. Making it look like he was either a complete idiot or someone had plotted to set him up. Masterfully engineered.”
“For the record, I don’t believe he did and I don’t think you really do either. Which leaves only one choice. He really was set up and we need to prove it. Don’t let personal history corrupt clear thinking, babe. Remember? You taught me that.”
He forced a tight-lipped smile. “Now you quote me like the Bible. What about all the other times I said something profound and you ignored them?”
“I have no recollection of that which you speak. Want to enlighten me?”
“Love is a battlefield?”
“Ha ha. Pat Benatar is no Shakespeare.”
“I don’t know. Seems pretty profound to me.”
She cleared her throat, watching him closely. “Speaking of love and battlefields…”
“Uh oh. What did I get myself into?”
“Do you really consider Cynthia beautiful and vibrant?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Ah, but I was channeling Pete’s thoughts. He thinks she’s beautiful and vibrant. After all, she’s half his age. I think she’s hellfire on stilettos and I don’t want anything to do with her.”
“Good answer,” she said, relaxing into the seat with a sigh.
<<>>
All was quiet on the home front when they returned. The Booth family drama had dissipated in their absence. Alice was back in jeans and a t-shirt, sitting on the couch eating a very large bowl of chocolate ice cream and reading a tacky romance novel.
Shelby waved Blake up the stairs and joined her, curling into the opposite corner of the couch for a chat. “Everything back to normal?”
She lowered her book. “Define normal.”
“Don’t ask me. We just learned Pete is dating Cynthia. Normal around here is way off the charts.”
“Want some ice cream? I think I’ve eaten enough of my feelings.”
“I’d love some.” She took the proffered bowl and sat back to enjoy.
“Looks like you might have a few feelings to eat as well.”
“If you’re re
ferring to that blonde b–”
“Now, now,” Alice said, wagging a finger. “Eat. Don’t speak. I don’t want to be the only one ten pounds over-weight.”
“Great friend you are.”
“Hey, you’ve already got the guy of your dreams. I’m the one who needs to worry. If my father doesn’t run Tucker off, my marshmallow physique probably will.”
“Are you kidding me? You looked like a million bucks this morning and I don’t think Tuck wants a refund. When you’re around, he can’t keep his eyes off you.”
A small smile played over her lips. “Ditto for your man. So why are we both sitting here eating a five-thousand calorie chocolate downer?”
“I don’t know.” She licked the spoon. “I just don’t get it. If Cynthia was Blake’s type in high school, what does he see in me? I can’t wrap my head around this. He asked her to the prom. On purpose.”
“You’re exactly Blake’s high school type, except you’re not blonde, you weren’t a cheerleader, and you have a brain.” Alice reached out and patted her leg. “Don’t over think it. He loves you.”
“Thanks.” She held out the now empty bowl. “But you could have said that before I finished all the ice cream.”
CHAPTER TEN
The door to the bedroom was open when she got upstairs an hour later. Blake had put the mattress back on the box springs, picked up most of the clothes and put them away and was now in the closet rearranging shoes.
“Wow, you’ve been hard at work. I completely forgot we had this mess to clean up when we got back or I would have come upstairs sooner.”
Down on his hands and knees, he poked his head around the closet door. “If I’d remembered the mess, I would have stayed downstairs with you.”
“Then Alice and I wouldn’t have been able to have our girl chat.”
“Are she and her father back on inside-voice speaking terms?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
“I think so. She’s more worried about Tucker.”
He stood, a pair of pink sandals in his hands. “Where’d you have these?”
Much Ado About Murder (Double Barrel Mysteries) Page 12