Advance Notice (7 page)

Chapter Twelve

I stared across the desk at Bruce and cradled my
bandaged hand in my lap. “Are you willing to accept the fact that Dottie Baker
is in danger?”

“I’m willing to accept the fact you’re on
to something, yes.”

“Come on, Bruce. Dottie needs police
protection.”

He reached for a stained coffee mug and
eyed me over the rim. “She hasn’t been shot at and threatened. You have.” He
took a sip and set the cup down. “We have the bare minimum of police here,
Marsha.
Me, and a recently hired part-timer.
Are you
willing to give up your protection for Dottie’s?”

That was a tough question. It shouldn’t
have been. I should have leaped to my feet, fist in the air, and shouted, “Yes,
give Dottie the protection.” Instead, I remained quiet. Dottie had a few more
weeks before her deadline. My danger was immediate. “Can’t you temporarily have
some officers come down from Little Rock?”

“Everyone has cut back on personnel.”
Bruce leaned back in his chair. “We may have had our differences in the past,
and you may make me want to shoot myself on occasion, but I’ll do my best to
keep you walking this earth.”

His words warmed my heart. He did care. I
blinked back tears. “Thank you.”

“Don’t start blubbering.” He rolled back
in his chair and crashed into the wall behind him. “I can’t stand crying
women.”

“I’m leaving.” Sewing and crafts might be
difficult to manage, but I could at least work the register at the store. I’d
also decided to add last night’s happenings to my gossip post.
Nothing better to divert attention from me as the writer, than by
putting in something about myself.

I headed down the street toward the
coffee shop. A late night warranted a big
Venti
-sized
coffee. My hand had throbbed into the wee hours of the morning and kept me from
a deep sleep. I used my hip to push open the door, then stepped inside,
relieved to see Duane wasn’t interviewing with Stacy.

Instead of heading straight to Country
Gifts from Heaven, I sat at a small table outside the coffee shop and watched
the cars drive past. I’d promised Duane last night I wouldn’t go anywhere
alone. Sitting in plain sight of River Valley’s residents definitely wouldn’t
count as alone. Probably everyone who drove past could tell you what time
they’d seen me and what I was wearing.

I ran my good hand down the dark jeans I
wore.
Definitely better than my overalls.
Paired with
the cranberry sweater set, I looked better than I had in a long time, and of
course, Duane was nowhere around. Being a Saturday, I’d hoped to run into him
at the coffee shop. I glanced at my watch. Nine o’clock. Most likely he’d be in
soon. My man was as regular as clock work, and if we hadn’t made a date for Saturday
morning coffee at my place, it was always at the coffee shop.

A Ford 150 truck cruised into a space in
front of me. Duane climbed out, giving me a glimpse of scuffed cowboy boots,
then long denim clad legs, before the ripple of muscles through a black tee, as
he closed the truck door. He sauntered over to me and kissed my cheek. “Why are
you sitting out here in view of everybody?”

“You told me not to be alone. This is as
public as I could get.”

“I’ll get our drinks and be right back.
You look great.” After glancing up and down the street, he shoved through the
shop doors.

His worry made me nervous, but I could be
shot inside as well as outside. At least out here, there was
less
tendency
for an innocent bystander to get in the way. My skin crawled
with invisible bugs as I tensed and waited for something, anything, out of the
ordinary.

Duane returned with our coffees and sat
next to me. “Your mom is watching out the window.”

“I know.” I waved and watched her pull
back behind the display of quilts. “She’s worried about it.”

“We all are.” He took my hand in his.
“After the last time… well, I’d rather not think about that.”

“Other than Nina coming to ask for my
help, I didn’t go looking for this. But then, seeing Dottie’s name…well,” I
sucked on my straw. I really had no idea what to say. This case came to me.
None of my family members were being fingered for a crime they didn’t commit. I
had absolutely no reason to be involved, other than a woman’s cry for help. A
woman I’d failed to keep safe.

“I understand, and I know why you feel
you need to solve this.”

Did he?
Because I
certainly didn’t.
I’d done very little sleuthing, come to think of it,
yet someone still tried to kill me.

“Did you fill out the report at the
police department?” Duane pulled his gaze from the road and fixed it on my
face.

“Yes, right before coming here. Bruce is
actually starting to believe something fishy is going on.”

“Good. Before you head to work, I want
you to have your hand checked out.” Duane stood and pulled me to my feet. “I
cleaned it as well as I could, but not as well as a doctor.”

“Fine, but just take me to the Little
Clinic in the drug store. There’s no point in sitting for hours at the doctor’s
office or urgent care.” Usually I balked at anything to do with seeing a
doctor, but considering how much my hand throbbed, I was actually hoping for
some pain meds.

Duane escorted me down the block to the
drug store. I’d never visited the clinic inside, but townspeople have raved at
the convenience. Ten minutes later, I sat in a small back room with a smiling
woman wearing a white lab coat.

“Mrs. Steele, what have you managed to do
to yourself?” She carefully unwrapped my hand and tsk-
tsked
.
After flushing the cuts with some type of solution, she put on a pair of
magnifying glasses and picked up some tweezers. “Whoever cleaned this did a
good job, but missed a few little strays. Once I get these picked out, I’ll
give you a shot of antibiotics, a prescription for pain meds, and send you on
your way. Butterfly Band-Aids should be enough. I don’t think you need
stitches.”

Wonderful. People were right. How nice
not to sit for hours in an emergency room or urgent care for something minor.

“There.” She rewrapped my hand. “Try to
take it easy for a couple of days. Don’t use your hand, and you should heal up
just fine.”

“Thank you.” I took the prescription and
headed back to the waiting area where Duane waited. “Looks like I’ve got a
couple of days to sit around on pain meds and rest.”

“Good. You could use it.”

“Mom won’t be happy. This will leave her
short-handed.” At least I’d be back to work by next Thursday, when the quilting
group met again. “And being stuck at home will put a damper on collecting
gossip.”

“Let’s catch some lunch while your
prescription is filled.” Duane escorted me down the road to Wanda’s diner.
Normally, all the walking along Main Street had no effect on me, but that day,
my body dragged. Exhaustion covered me like a humid blanket. Sitting down
sounded like heaven.

Once inside, I slid with a sigh into a
booth and laid my head back. “Order me a BLT on wheat with avocado,
french
fries on the side, and a diet soda. I’m beat.”

“Maybe I should take you home and bring
your prescription to you.” Duane’s eyes focused with concern on mine.

“No, I still need to eat before taking a
pill. Otherwise, my stomach—”

“How dare you!” Stacy marched to our
table and planted her palms flat with a slap onto the Formica top.

I pushed back against the red vinyl
seatback. “What?”

“Your column and my chest. How dare you
post something so outrageous?” Her face turned so scarlet, I feared for her
blood pressure.

“Need I remind you that it’s a gossip
column?” Wanda, owner of the diner, set our drinks in front of us and took a
few steps back, clearly more interested in Stacy’s tirade than in retrieving
our lunch. “People don’t take it serious. They only read it for fun.”

“You had implants?” Wanda asked. “
Can’t hardly
tell.” She stabbed a finger at Stacy’s chest.
“Are they real?”

Stacy’s mouth opened and closed like a
fish, before her steely gaze swung back to me. “Don’t touch me. Watch it,
Marsha. You’re treading on thin ice.” She tried to stomp away on her four inch
heels, but only succeeded in wobbling a bit on her way to the door.

“This is why you can’t be left alone for
even five minutes,” Duane pointed out. “Stacy is not someone you want to make
your enemy.”

I shrugged. “We were never friends to
begin with.”

“Uh-oh. That’s my cue.” Wanda motioned
her head toward the door where Dottie barged inside. “She looks madder than a
hatter, and I’m not in the mood.”

Dottie made a beeline for our table and
scooted in beside Duane. She took a deep breath and expelled through her nose,
before folding her hands on the tabletop, staring with wide eyes at me.
“Marsha, Marsha, Marsha. Is your mother the new gossip columnist?”

Not exactly the question I’d expected.
“No, ma’am, I’m pretty sure she isn’t. Why?”

“Someone posted about me being on a dead
line, no pun intended, and how I believed I’d win the retirement pageant again
this year. Who else but your mother would post that?” Her penciled eyebrows
moved to peaks.

“Well…” I took a sip of my soda, enjoying
the cool carbonation before answering. “The quilting
group
were
all present when you were talking about the pageant.” They were
there, weren’t they? I couldn’t remember for sure. I looked to Duane for help,
but he suddenly became interested in the burger Wanda sat in front of him.

“Hmmm.” She tapped a fingernail the color
of poppies against her dentist-whitened teeth. “I didn’t think any of them knew
about the obituary, but anything’s possible. Especially with the fuss your
mother was making.”

“Dottie, I think you may want to talk to
Bruce.” Duane came out of his burger stupor and laid a hand over her wrinkled
one.

Her face flushed like a young girl’s. I
grinned. My man had that effect on women. “I don’t care to speak to that man.”

“But, darling, he’s beginning to feel
concerned about your safety as well as the rest of us.” Duane gave her a tender
smile. “For me. Talk to him.”

“You, sir, are a good-looking rascal with
a silk tongue. Flattery drips from your lips.” Dottie slid her hand free. “But
you know as well as I do that our esteemed Officer Barnett is not capable of
keeping a kitten safe, much less a feisty old lady. He even locked Nina in
jail, little good it did, though.” She shook her head,
then
stood. “No, I’ll take my chances. Since
Gertie
and
Marsha have warned me, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

“You mean…you believe us?” I couldn’t
believe the masquerade she’d put on.

“I’d be silly not to. No,
Gertie
and I love to spar with each other. We’ve been doing
it for years.” She tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Lunch is on me.
You two young people are good for an old woman’s soul.”

I slid from the booth and motioned for
Duane to stay before I followed Dottie outside. “Someone shot at me last
night.” I held up my bandaged hand. “Luckily, they only got the glass. Please,
be careful. And when that day number thirty comes, I’ll spend it with you at
the mall. We’ll stay in a public place. You’re right. The River Valley police
can’t keep us safe.”

Dottie patted my cheek. “You’re a doll,
and I’d love a day at the mall with you. But sweetie, when it’s my time, it’s
my time. I’m an old woman. When God calls me home, I’ll go.”

Chapter Thirteen

I understand her words, but realized that as
much as I loved my heavenly Father, I wasn’t ready to go to that mansion in the
sky just yet. I waved as she climbed into a cotton-candy pink Cadillac and
backed out of the parking spot without looking.

A man I didn’t recognize, laid on his
horn while flipping Dottie a gesture no gentleman would use toward a lady. He
stuck his head out of the window. “Stupid old drivers! Ought to all be
euthanized.
”
He roared into the spot she’d vacated,
then
got out of his truck.

I stepped aside as the barrel-chested man
barged into the diner. Duane came out a few seconds later, a paper bag in his
hands. “You didn’t eat, so I had Wanda bag it for you. I want you to sit in my
truck while I pick up your prescription.”

“Do you mind dropping me off at the
store, then picking me back up? I need to let Mom know I won’t be working
today.” Thankfully, tomorrow was Sunday and the store would be closed.

Duane dropped me off at Country Gifts,
then left. I knew he’d be back within fifteen minutes, so I pushed through the
door and struggled not to look as tired as I felt. “Mom?”

“Back here.”

I headed to the back room.

Mom stood at the window, hands on her
hips. “That kid, Danny, works hard, I’ll give him that. But sometimes, he just
sits and stares at the ground like he doesn’t have a lick of sense.”

I stepped beside her. Sure enough, Danny
sat on a folding stool and stared at the ground between his feet. “Maybe he’s
resting from all his work.”

“Maybe. But something heavy rests on that
boy’s mind.” Mom turned. “How’s the hand?”

“Duane took me to the clinic. They
cleaned it out, gave me a prescription for pain and antibiotics, and told me to
rest for a couple of days. So, he’s coming to pick me up, and I’ll be at home
the rest of the weekend. Can you manage?”

“You bet. Go home and rest. I’ll check on
you later.” Mom gave me a hug and then a gentle nudge toward the door. “Love
you, sweetie.”

Duane was just pulling up to the curb
when I stepped outside. I climbed into the truck cab and closed my eyes. Duane
patted my shoulder, then handed me a pill and a sip from his water bottle.
“You’ll be home and in bed within ten minutes.”

It wasn’t just my hand hurt that gave me
pain and dragged me down, but that someone wanted to kill me. Add in that
Dottie’s life was also in danger, and I didn’t know which way to turn to
protect either one of us.

Last time, the murderer had been someone
I saw on a regular basis: A member of high-standing in the church. She’d been head
of the women’s ministry. I ran through my mind everyone I knew that could
possibly wire a house to blow up. I didn’t know anyone.

Duane pulled the truck to the back of
Mom’s house, making the distance to the cottage less. He thought of everything.
By this time, my legs were starting to feel like rubber because of the pain
meds, and I happily leaned on Duane’s arm while he half-carried me into the
cottage.

“Sofa or bed?” He pushed open the door.

“Sofa, with the remote close by.”

 
“You got it.” Duane settled me on the
sofa, propped pillows behind my back,
then
headed to
the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a water bottle from the
refrigerator. “Where’s Lindsey?”

“I have no idea.” She’d been sleeping
when I’d left the house that morning. “Maybe she’s still in bed.”

“I’ll check.” He headed down the hall,
returning seconds later. “Nope. I’ll text her to come home and take care of you
until your mom gets off work. I have some football stuff to do.”

“I’m not dying, Duane.” Yes, my hand felt
like it was killing me, and I loved all the attention he poured on me, but I
didn’t need a full-time babysitter for a few cuts. “I’m going to sleep, then
watch some television. I’ll see you later.”

He kissed me and left. I rolled over and
gave in to the pain meds.

*

Loud voices woke me. Not angry, just
voices trying to speak over the sound of a power tool. Tossing aside the afghan
I’d covered with, I shuffled to the window and parted the curtains.

“I’ll tell you right now, son.” Leroy
wiped his face with a stained bandanna. “A man has to own up to his mistakes.”

“What mistake?” Danny jerked, dropping
the hammer. “How did you find out?”

“The fact you nailed those two boards in
the wrong place! Are you asleep? I can see your mistake with my own two eyes.”
Leroy shook his head. “You swore you didn’t smoke any of that loco weed, but
sometimes I wonder.”

Danny visibly relaxed. Yep. Someday, that
boy and I were going to have a long chat so I could ferret out his secrets.

I stepped onto my tiny porch, more like a
stoop really. “Leroy, what are y’all doing?”

“Sorry, sweetie. Didn’t know you were
home. I guess we’re making quite the racket out here.” Leroy clicked off the
sander. “Your mother wanted the back porch rails smoothed and repainted. Since
the back room is almost finished at the store, and she complained of a
headache, I thought I’d use Danny for another hour or two. He doesn’t mind the
extra money, do you, boy?”

Danny rolled his eyes and shrugged. “My
mom is probably pacing the floor right about now. If I’m not home when she gets
there, she starts to worry.”

“A man your age shouldn’t have to worry
too much about that. It isn’t good to rely on your mother too much at your age.”
Leroy pointed at a stack of wood beside the back porch. “Check those for warped
pieces, then go on home.”

Obviously, I wasn’t going to get anymore
rest. I moved back into the house, grabbed my bag of M&Ms from the cookie
jar, and settled in front of the television with a chick flick. I might as well
try to enjoy the rest of my day.

Leroy might be noisy, but I felt a whole
lot better knowing I wasn’t alone. The afternoon passed with the sound of
sawing from outside and vows of love from the TV. Occasionally, I’d glance at
the clock to check the time, wondering where Lindsey was, but at the almost
tender age of sixteen, she flew off the handle when I asked too many questions.
She had a dinner curfew and a night time curfew, and woe to the one who checked
on her before those times.

The closer she got to
becoming
an adult, the more of a stranger she became. Was every teenage girl such a
nightmare? Last mystery we’d been involved in, Lindsey couldn’t wait to help me
solve it. Neither could Mom. Maybe that’s why I was getting nowhere fast. The
three Callahan women weren’t together.

I sat up and grabbed my cell phone off
the coffee table, then texted Mom and Lindsey for a meeting right after supper.
With it being Saturday night, my daughter might balk a bit, but I was hoping
she’d be thrilled at helping us brainstorm.

Seconds later, I received a text from my
daughter saying, ‘If I have to’ and one from my mother saying she’d bring cake
and coffee. Maybe I should have texted her first, then relayed her message to
Lindsey. Cake could sway the toughest opponent.

The hours until the meeting time of seven
o’clock dragged, despite Duane bringing pizza and Lindsey actually coming home
in time to eat. Since she loved her uncle, conversation wasn’t stilted as I’ve
heard it could be with prospective step-parents. But…she did get a glint in her
eye when he spoke to her in a gruff voice about her attitude. How would she act
if we decided to have another child?

“You’re quiet tonight. Is your hand
hurting?” Duane bit into a slice of meat lover’s pizza.

“No, just thinking.” I smiled at Lindsey.
“Thinking on how fast my baby is growing up.”

“Mom, please don’t start the gushy talk.”
Lindsey set her soda can on the table. “I’m too old for that.”

“Never.” She’d always be my baby.

“
Yoo
hoo
!” Mom shoved against the screen door, loaded down with
a pitcher and a platter.

“Cake!” Lindsey immediately perked up,
losing the bored look teenagers loved to wear.

Duane jumped up to help her. “Do I get a
piece of this before you women run me off?”

“I’ll cut you a big slab right now, and
you can run over to the house and share it with Leroy. He’s watching some
sports thing on TV.”

Mom set the cake in the middle of the
kitchen table and cut him a piece before transferring it to a paper plate.
“There’s hot coffee at the house, too. Now,
git
so we
can go over our notes.”

Duane froze. “Y’all are meeting about the
killings?” He turned to me. “Didn’t almost getting shot teach you anything?”

“Yes.” I lifted my chin. “It taught me
that I need to find out who is behind this before one of my family, or myself,
end up dead.”

He sighed. “Fine. Do what you want.”
Gripping the paper plate hard enough to bend it, he stormed out the front door.

My heart ached at his attitude, but I was
now past the point of no return in this latest mystery. Squaring my shoulders,
I plopped into a kitchen chair. “Since I can’t write with my injured hand, I
need you to take the notes, Lindsey.”

“
Uhm
. Huh.”
Lindsey scooted the paper and pen toward her. “Last time, I almost got ran off
the road and thrown in jail. I’m not sure I want to get shot at, Mom.”

“I’m not going to put you in danger.” I
leaned my elbows on the table and rested my head in my hands. “The whole
purpose here is to prevent someone else from dying. I just want you to
brainstorm.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“Me, too,” Mom added. “Although, I don’t
mind a little danger in my life. It keeps things exciting.” She pulled out
another chair and sat. “Who are our suspects?”

“Well, I’m thinking Frank Powell. The
newspaper has to be selling more copies since the deaths and the early obits. That
gives him motive.”

Lindsey made a suspect column and jotted
down Frank’s name.

“Put down Danny.” Mom poured a cup of
coffee and slid it to me. “Something about that boy seems a little off.”

More than a little, in
my opinion.
His mom, too.
“What about some of the ladies in the
quilting circle? Would any of them have motives?”

Mom shrugged. “Not sure on that one. The
victims are all older women living alone. That makes up the entire circle. Why
would one of them want to kill one of their own?”

Good point. I drummed my fingernails on
the table. There had to be something we were missing. Frank and Danny were too
obvious, but both did warrant a closer investigation. Maybe I could slip some
casual questions into our meeting on Friday. “Add Stacy to the suspect list.
She’d do almost anything for a good story that would take her out of River
Valley.”

“You’re just saying that because you
don’t like her,” Mom stated, cutting into the cake.

“No, that’s only a small part of it. I
don’t trust her. Never have. I’m also going to be asking some questions of your
friends at the next quilting meeting.”

Mom’s hand stilled. “Do you really think
one of them old women tried to shoot you?”

“Anything is possible. They all grew up
in a time where everybody owned a gun. I bet most of them still do.”