Ripped Apart

by Jeanne Glidewell

  Rip walked into the trailer just then. “Joe needs to track down the snake dude. Didn’t you tell me you ran into the man who lives next door at the grocery store in Portland?”

  “Yes. He told me he was renting a fully-furnished condo there.” I hesitated before giving out any more information and then decided I’d only be prolonging the inevitable if I didn’t spill it all. “He was having dinner with the lady who owns the house up the street that was nearly demolished. Her name is Jo Wallinski, but she goes by JJ She’s currently staying at the Motel 6 in Portland.”

  “That’s great, honey! This JJ lady can probably lead Joe to Par―”

  “Percival.”

  “Percival’s whereabouts.” Rip grabbed an energy drink out of the fridge and headed for the door. “After I give Joe a call, I’ll go help Milo with the windows. He had to go to the Home Depot in Corpus to pick up the materials, so he’s getting a late start.”

  “Percival told me the lines there were really long.”

  “Wow! You and he had quite a chat, didn’t you?”

  “Well, we were stuck in a lengthy line at the grocery store at the time with nothing else to do to pass the time.” Rip gave me a look that spoke volumes all by itself. “I can’t help it if I’m sociable. Being friendly’s not a bad thing, you know.”

  “I’m just amazed at the coincidence of you ending up in line directly behind him.” I read the sarcasm in his voice and gave him an icy glare. After studying my expression, he laughed and enveloped me in a bear hug. “I was just kidding, sweetheart. I applaud you for your quick thinking. And your outgoing nature is one of the many things I love about you. Now I need to get going. You should relax this afternoon and take it easy.”

  “That’s what I’d planned to do.”

  As you can well imagine, that’s not all I had planned to do. As soon as the Chevy truck was out of view, I slipped on my shoes and began walking up the street. I’d come up with an excuse to pop in at the Barnaby house. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was all I could think of at the time. This was one of the occasions I wished I had Lexie Starr with me. Her ruses were rarely without peril, but they were usually effective.

  “Hello, again,” Bruno said as he opened up Barlow’s front door. “What’s up?”

  “The other day when I found Barlow’s body hanging in the living room, I’d been touching up my lipstick when I passed out. I haven’t seen that tube of lipstick since then, and it’s my favorite color. Thought I’d drop in while someone was here and look for it.”

  “I haven’t seen any lipstick, Ms. Ripple.” Bruno was gazing at me in a peculiar way. Perhaps he couldn’t understand how a woman could unexpectedly stumble across a nude man hanging from a ceiling and her first thought was to touch up her lipstick even though she was on the verge of fainting. What’s not to understand about that?

  “Hmm…it must be here somewhere. I can search around for it while you and Tony continue your work.” I hadn’t spotted Tony, but I saw his toolbox on an end table in the corner of the living room. His crowbar was lying directly behind it. I hoped to be able to snatch the bar up and sneak out of the house before Tony returned to the room to get it or something else out of his toolbox. Later, when he couldn’t locate the crowbar, he’d likely think he’d mislaid it or left it in another room. He’d surely never suspect me of taking it. After all, why would I want to pilfer something like a crowbar when I'd only dropped by to look for my missing tube of lipstick?

  “Tony’s not here yet. His dental appointment must be taking longer than he expected. I doubt he’ll feel like working this afternoon.”

  That’s awesome! I thought. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “He was in such pain this morning, his girlfriend had to drive him to Corpus to find a dentist who took emergency cases on Saturday.”

  “Oh, you mean that pretty lady with the long blond hair?”

  Wearing a bemused expression, Bruno replied, “Yeah, Judy Goetz. She’s a looker, for sure. They’re engaged to be married on Valentine’s Day.”

  “How romantic.” That was one question answered. The blonde I’d seen in his passenger seat was his girlfriend, not the missing neighbor. “I hope Tony’s back to work soon. I know work goes much faster when you have an extra hand helping out.”

  “That’s for sure,” Bruno muttered. “Holler if you need anything. I want to finish getting the sheetrock up on the bedroom wall today so I can get started on the living room.”

  He’d barely left the room when I rushed over, pulled a latex glove out of my pocket, put it on, and picked up the crowbar. I was surprised to see there was still a decent amount of the red-colored stain on it that I hadn’t been able to see in the video I’d taken. I hastily made for the front exit. As I opened the door, I shouted, “Found my lipstick! Thanks, Bruno!”

  I didn’t wait around for a response. As I hustled up the street, holding the crowbar to my chest so it couldn’t be seen from the windows of the Barnaby home, I wondered about Tony’s reaction to finding it missing. If it truly was the murder weapon and still had proof of his victim’s blood on it, he might experience a feeling of pure panic. I know I would’ve keeled over for the third time in a matter of days if something like that happened to me.

  Maybe this sudden habit of passing out is something I should bring to Dr. Herron’s attention at my appointment next week, I thought. If nothing else, maybe it’ll be a good enough distraction to keep her from lecturing me about the weight I’ve gained since my last checkup. Note to self: scratch malted milk balls off the grocery list.

  “What do you mean, you took it when no one was looking?” Rip was livid. I’d expected a high five, not a look of condemnation. Rip and Milo were standing in the front yard with their hands on their hips and sweat rolling down their foreheads when I walked up the driveway from Barlow’s house with the crowbar. “Are you intentionally trying to make any evidence the crime lab might find on it inadmissible in a court of law?”

  “Well, no. No, of, course not. I, I, just…” I was stuttering, trying to justify my impulsive actions. “I was just thinking―”

  “No, you weren’t thinking. That’s the problem.”

  “But, I, I just―”

  “You need to take that crowbar back right this minute. I’ll call Chuck and have him get a search warrant to pick it up at Barlow’s house. If we have proof to arrest a perpetrator for murder, we don’t want him getting off on a technicality. Do we?”

  “Of course not. I’ll go return this thing right now.” Rip was right. I hadn’t thought about the legal aspects of how the evidence was obtained. I needed to get the crowbar back where I’d found it before Bruno discovered it missing or finished the bedroom and started putting up sheetrock in the living room.

  I was back in Barlow’s driveway in record time, hurtling over anything in my path, including a kid on a Big Wheel bike. Did my speed and agility spare me the embarrassment of returning the crowbar? No, it didn’t! Did it cause me to injure my ankle from an ill-timed leap onto the front porch? Yes, of course it did! I didn’t not pursue a career as a ballerina out of choice, but rather because of my ability to stumble over things that aren’t even in my way. I once tripped over the shadow of an overhead power line on a sidewalk and wrenched my knee. What can I say? The wind was causing the electrical line to sway and I thought the undulating shadow it cast was a snake. And not a dead one, either!

  That recollection made me wonder what was going on behind the scenes regarding the bag of rotting timber rattlers. Has Percival been arrested? I wondered. Would he be told who’d discovered the snakes and turned him in? Was I in the process of making sure I was on the top of everyone in the neighborhood’s shit list?

  That was my last thought before my ill-timed leap onto the front porch landed me on my rear end in a crumpled heap at Barlow’s doorstep.

  Twenty-Two

  “What the hell?” Bruno asked when he responded to my tapping on Barlow’s front door with the crowbar. He looked
down at me as if eyeing a circus clown stuck in a wooden barrel. “What happened?”

  “What do you think happened?” I asked, feigning indignation. “I tripped over this damned crowbar someone left on the top step!”

  “Oh, crap! I’m so sorry. Tony must have set it down as he was leaving last night and forgot to pick it up. Are you all right?”

  “Not really. I think I broke my ankle.” I was trying not to smile at this fortunate turn of events. Not that my ankle might be broken, mind you, but that Bruno hadn’t noticed the crowbar lying behind Tony’s toolbox earlier when we were talking in Barlow's living room.

  “Should I call for an ambulance?” Bruno looked genuinely concerned, which touched me. “No. But could I use your phone to call my husband? I left ours with him. I’m beginning to think we both should have our own phone, like the rest of the world.”

  “Not a bad idea. And of course you can use my phone. Give me the number.” He dialed and handed his phone to me. “Can I get you anything while you’re waiting for your husband?”

  I smiled and shook my head. After speaking with Rip, I handed the phone back to Bruno. “Thank you. I’m going to set this crowbar against the railing so no one else trips over it.”

  “No. I’ll take it inside to make damned sure no one else gets hurt because of it.”

  “Good thinking.” I was concerned about any trace evidence on the crowbar being compromised and wanted to suggest he wear my latex gloves to handle it but knew that’d look suspicious.

  As I waited for Rip, Bruno did everything he could to make me comfortable. He brought me a bottle of water, gave me a cushion to sit on, and a second one to prop my throbbing ankle on. He went back inside to retrieve a third cushion to wedge behind my back as I leaned against the porch railing. It was hard to imagine he’d harm anyone. But I had to keep in mind you couldn’t judge a drywaller by his cushions.

  After a trip to an urgent care center for x-rays, I was back home with my left leg elevated and a bag of frozen peas resting on top of my black-and-blue sprained ankle. While I rested on the couch, Rip went over to take care of Rascal. He looked as if he’d rather go into a bear’s den and offer to give it a free colonoscopy.

  He returned twenty minutes later, smiling and all in one piece. As he walked into the Caboose, he said, “I’ve got great news!”

  “Really?” My spirits perked up immediately. I’d been feeling kind of low since the accident on Barlow’s front porch. I hoped the medical examiner had called Rip with results from the crime lab on any trace evidence they might have found on the crowbar, even though it didn’t seem as if enough time had elapsed for the results to be available. My spirits perked right back down at the “great news” Rip had to report.

  “Yes. I never even laid eyes on that pint-sized devil while I was next door, so we don’t have to make a second trip to the urgent care center today.”

  I’d been napping on the couch, but woke up when someone lifted my foot and placed something cold next to my skin.

  “You’re supposed to have that ankle elevated,” Rip said. “I don’t want it swelling up on you, so I brought you a fresh pack of frozen corn. The peas are thawed and nearly ready to eat from the heat of your body lying on top of them.”

  “I was wondering what that lump beneath me was.”

  “I also have some news for you.”

  “Oh, Rip, stop it.” I knew he’d gone back over to give Rascal a couple of raisins as a mid-day snack and figured the fact he’d come home unscathed was the news he was about to share. Not only was my foot throbbing, but now my head was, too. “I’m not in the mood for your nonsense right now.”

  “You must have misheard me, honey. I didn’t ask you if you wanted to fool around.”

  “Be serious!” I whacked him on the head with the bag of corn he'd so thoughtfully placed on my ankle.

  “I am. Chuck just called me with the results of the DNA test.”

  “Wow! That was quick. So it was blood, and they were able to run a sample?” I asked excitedly. “Was the blood Reilly’s?”

  “Yes and yes. As you expected, the DNA test on the blood matched hers. When the detectives picked up the crowbar at Barlow’s house today, they also had a search warrant to pick up a brush belonging to the missing woman at the Reynolds’s house. They got a DNA sample from a few strands of her hair in the brush.”

  “Great thinking.”

  “Thanks! It was my idea.” Rip was deservedly proud of his suggestion to the sheriff.

  “I’m not surprised.” I was fully awake now. Even my headache had suddenly abated. “Have they arrested Tony?”

  “Not yet. They’re still trying to put the case together. It’s just now gone from a missing person case to an official homicide investigation. Finding Reilly’s blood on a tool in her house doesn’t prove without a doubt she’s been murdered. It points a finger in that direction, but it certainly doesn’t point it at any particular suspect. On another front, your friend’s husband is now behind bars.”

  “Percival Pandero?”

  “Yep! Detectives Morris and Collins found him at the Motel 6 in Portland with his girlfriend. Good job on extracting that information out of him, Rapella.”

  “Thanks, although he told me it was just a platonic relationship.”

  “Yeah? Then why were the two entangled in the bed sheets when the detectives arrived?” Rip asked derisively.

  “I should’ve known that rake was lying to me. What about Suzanna? Have they got a warrant out for her arrest, as well?”

  “Mr. Pandero swore his wife knew nothing about the snakes. In fact, he said if Suzanna had had any idea there were rattlesnakes in that bag―dead, or not―she’d have never had the guts to pick it up and haul it to the curb. He’d told her it was meat from a small feral hog he’d trapped, which is legal, and was surprised she’d even drag a bag containing part of a dead hog to the debris pile unless she had a huge incentive to do so.”

  “The stench of the bag was all the incentive most folks would need. That’s good news about Suzanna, though.” I breathed a sigh of relief and hoped Pandero was telling the truth for once. I would hate to be responsible for having Suzanna thrown in jail, even if what she’d done was wrong. I suspected she knew full well what was in the black bag in her chest freezer, but I’d never say so out loud. If that was the case, it was considerate of Percival to lie to protect her, considering they were on the brink of divorce. “Did he say why he had a bag of dead timber rattlers in his freezer in the first place?”

  “A friend of his owns land in Refugio and runs about a hundred head of cattle on it. A couple of years ago, the friend wanted to relocate the snakes on his property to open grassland because the aggressive rattlers were striking his livestock. He paid Pandero to do the job. Pandero claims the rancher had no idea they were relocated to a chest freezer in Pandero’s basement. Pandero couldn’t come up with a logical explanation of why he froze them rather than relocate them. The rancher in question was shocked to hear what his friend had done, and the sheriff is convinced he had no part in the crime.”

  “That’s good news about the rancher, but the killing of a protected species is despicable.” I wasn’t overly fond of snakes—or anything else that creeps or crawls and can inflict great bodily harm. But protected species are protected for a reason. I didn’t particularly condone the killing of anything, with the exception of a few annoying nuisances like mosquitoes and flies. “Can a rattler kill a cow?”

  “It’s rare, but they can. Often, the bite results in dead or damaged tissue, which can cause infection. If the infection becomes systemic, it can cause blood poisoning and potentially kill the cow. Calves are the most susceptible.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “And, Rapella. Just FYI, Perch―”

  “Percival,” I supplied when Rip hesitated.

  “Percival. What the hell kind of name is that anyway?” he asked in disgust.

  “Probably more common than Rip, and not much r
arer than Clyde.” I teased Rip because of his distaste for his given name. He’d been happy to be nicknamed Rip in grade school and even happier when the name stuck for his entire life. “And to answer your question, I think Percival is a French name. And, of course, one of the knights of the round table was named Percival.”

  “Round table?”

  “Yes. Percival, like Lancelot, was one of the knights in King Arthur’s Court who sought the Holy Grail.”

  “Oh. That round table.” I couldn’t tell by Rip’s response if he actually knew what I was talking about or had just tired of the conversation. As I’ve mentioned before, he wasn’t exactly an avid reader. The only thing I’d ever known him to peruse religiously was the TV guide.

  “Get back to what you were going to tell me about Percival.”

  “Oh, yeah. He was questioned about the missing neighbor lady, and he had an alibi for the entire window of time in which she disappeared. It was easily confirmed.”

  “Really? What was his alibi?”

  “He was in Christus Spohn Hospital in Corpus Christi throughout the storm. Two doctors and numerous nurses confirmed it, along with a disgruntled roommate who was being treated for a sexually transmitted disease.”

  “That’s weird,” I said.

  “I thought so too, being the roommate was in his eighties and a Catholic priest.”

  “Okay, that is strange, but that’s not what I was referring to. Suzanna told me Percival came to their house to seek shelter from the storm and she wouldn’t let him in.”

  “That’s kind of cold, don’t you think?” Rip replied.

  “My thoughts exactly. Clearly, however, her story was a lie.”