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Authors: Mignon F. Ballard

Angel at Troublesome Creek (11 page)

BOOK: Angel at Troublesome Creek
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“
B
ut Hairy was there when I left!” Robbie said. “I let him out just like you told me, and we played fetch for a while, then I fed him.”
The boy had been practicing shots at a basketball hoop above the family’s garage, and sweat trickled down his red face as he bounced the ball on the asphalt. “Hairy—he minds me real good. I wouldn’t let him get away.”
“I know that, Robbie. You take good care of him. But think about it—did you remember to lock the door?” I tried not to sound accusing, but somebody had ransacked my apartment, and it didn’t look as if the lock had been forced.
He shrugged. “Twisted that knob thing the way you showed me—tried it too. That door was locked sure as I’m standing here.” The ball bounced feebly, then rolled away into the grass. “I don’t know how he got out.”
“I believe you, Robbie, but I had to ask. You understand, don’t you?” I paid him the three dollars we had agreed on, plus whatever change I had, and he stuffed it into his pocket. He didn’t answer me, didn’t look up.
“If you see Hairy, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
He nodded, still not meeting my eyes. I wasn’t forgiven yet. “Old Hairy, he’ll come if you call him I reckon. Always does,” Robbie said.
But I had called until my throat hurt. I called some more.
The police, when I phoned, weren’t unduly concerned about a missing pet.
“Ma’am, are you sure you had the door shut good? Dogs can be right smart, you know. Why, I’ve heard of—”
“Look, somebody searched my apartment,” I said. “They were looking for something.”
“Anything missing?” Did I detect a smidgen of interest in his voice?
“I told you—my dog—and who knows what else!”
“Somebody will be right over. That address again?”
I sat down to wait.
 
 
It didn’t take long. The young policeman who showed up at my door looked familiar, so familiar I guess I must have stared.
“Dennis Henderson,” I said finally.
He gave me a puzzled look.
“Miss Arnold’s social studies. Eighth grade.”
“Oh … yeah … right.” I could tell he didn’t remember me.
“Didn’t you sing in the choir for a while? Aunt Caroline used to brag on your tenor.”
Now he smiled. “Right! She’s the one got me to liking music. In fact, I’m taking voice training now. Sure hated to hear about her accident. Your aunt was some nice lady!” He stood in the living room looking about as if he expected a guided tour.
I gave him one. “Look at this footstool—ripped apart! And that end table—somebody’s been going through it. They’ve been in the bedroom too. Dresser drawers aren’t quite right.”
He frowned. “Aren’t quite right?”
“Not like I left them. Everything’s out of place. Now, about my dog. Have you heard anything?”
“Not yet. Anything else missing?”
“Not that I’ve noticed. Look, Hairy’s still a puppy. I’m afraid he’d never find his way home, and he could get run over out there.” I looked out the window as I spoke, hoping to glimpse his silly old shaggy head.
“Any idea who might’ve done this, or why?” He squatted to examine the remains of Aunt Caroline’s needlepoint stool.
I shook my head. How could I explain about the missing Bible when I didn’t even understand it myself?
“Notice anybody hanging around who doesn’t belong?”
Todd Burkholder
. I told him about being followed that morning and he scribbled something on a pad.
“See him after that?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Haven’t seen him, or whoever it was, since we—I—lost him this side of High Point.”
“You said
whoever it was
, so you’re not sure it was this guy, Todd Burkholder, you saw?” Dennis hesitated, pen above pad. “What would he be looking for here? Anything in particular?”
I didn’t know, unless it was me—which made me feel like my middle had turned to mush. I took a couple of deep breaths to keep from being sick.
“Any idea how he got in?” He inspected the door again, ran his hands along the windows. “Everything looks okay here. Who else has a key?”
“Miss Fronie, of course. And Robbie, the neighbor boy who fed the dog, but he returned it this afternoon.” I found the key in my pocket and held it out for him to see. “I can’t think of any reason why Robbie would tear the stool apart.”
Dennis Henderson shook his head and grinned. “Miss Fronie? She that lady who sings in the choir?”
“Right. Fronie Temple’s my landlady—owns this house.” I shrugged. “If she wanted to search my apartment she could do it anytime while I was at work. Besides, Miss Fronie’s been away all day. Had a dental appointment in Charlotte.” I looked at my watch. “Should be back by now … .” It was beginning to get dark. It wasn’t like Fronie Temple to be out this late.
“Anyone else?” Dennis clicked his pen.
“Nobody else has a key, at least no one I can think of … unless …”
“What? Unless what?” Click. Click. Click. Click. The man was getting impatient.
“I almost forgot. I keep an extra key hidden outside in case I lose mine.” I tend to be forgetful.
He actually rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me. Under the doormat?” “Certainly not! It’s under that loose brick on the top step—or was.” The two of us hurried out to see if the key was still there. It was.
“Anybody know where you hide this?” Dennis asked.
“Not that I know of,” I said.
He picked up the key, weighed it in his hands before giving it to me. “Not exactly the best hiding place; or somebody might’ve watched you put it there. I don’t think I need to tell you not to do this again.” Dennis shoved the brick back in place with his toe. There was a question in his eyes.
Todd Burkholder. It came back to him every time.
 
 
“What in the world’s going on here? There’s a police car in the drive!” Miss Fronie’s lemony curls bobbed as she glanced about, taking in the carcass of the footstool, the young policeman trying his best to look in charge.
“Dennis Henderson! That you? What are you doing here? Mary George, what happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Miss Fronie,” I said, enduring a couple of pats and a squeeze on the arm. “But there’s been a break-in and Hairy Brown’s gotten away, or else somebody’s taken him.”
To give her credit, I think she really tried to look sorry, but it just didn’t work. “Oh, dear. Now, that’s too bad. But why do you suppose anyone would … I mean, who would do a thing like that?”
“We’re not sure,” I said. “But it looks like they were searching for something.”
“We’ll do some checking on this Burkholder guy,” Dennis said, stuffing his notebook in an inside pocket. “If he was here, we’ll find out about it. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“But what about my dog? What about Hairy?”
“I’ll ask around, but you might check with Animal Control. Of course if we hear anything, we’ll let you know.”
“And Todd? When will—”
“Doesn’t look like he actually took anything, but you’ve given me his home address and we know where he works, so we should know something tomorrow.”
“And then what?” I asked.
“It all depends,” he said.
I waited until noon the next day to give Dennis Henderson a call.
“Meant to get back to you on that, Mary George,” he said. “Afraid we’ve hit a dead end on the Burkholder angle. Claims he was making sales calls over in Burlington all morning and got back to the office around three. Secretary there backs him up. We’ll be checking out the customers he says he called on over there, of course. See if he’s telling the truth.”
I didn’t believe Todd Burkholder knew the truth from a toad on a log. If he left work even a few minutes early, he’d still have time to rip apart Aunt Caroline’s footstool and poke about where he didn’t belong. And now my dog was missing, the only living thing I had left to love.
I knew Todd had a rotten streak, but why would he want to do this to me? Was it because I didn’t welcome him back like a silly, love-blind doormat after his erotic aerobic interlude? And hadn’t he said I would be sorry?
Revenge. Pure and simple. Well, simple maybe, not pure. Anger rumbled deep inside me. My insides burned with the acid of resentment. He wasn’t going to get away with this.
I snatched up the phone and called directory assistance.
“Mary George, honey! Well, this is a surprise! Finally had to admit you couldn’t live without me, huh?”
That snake Todd not only had the nerve to pretend surprise at hearing from me, but he sounded almost convincing. Not enough.
“How dare you follow me yesterday, you slimy creep! I can’t believe you had the nerve to slither around in my apartment while I was gone. This is absolutely the last straw! Did you really think I wouldn’t suspect it was you?” I deliberately lowered my voice, glancing behind me to see if the doc had left for lunch. Good. His smock hung just inside the office door and his keys were missing from their usual place on his desk.
“What?” He laughed. It was that weak, sickening kind of laugh losers give when they know they’re cornered. “Mary George, sugar, I do believe you’ve flipped out.”
“Don’t you call me sugar!” I wanted to gag at the sound of his voice. “Did you have to tear the place apart? Aunt Caroline’s mother stitched that little footstool. What were you looking for, Todd?”
“Would you mind letting me in on your little game? Just what in hell are you talking about? I’ll swear I haven’t a clue.” His voice was cool, remote.
“Don’t pretend with me, Todd Burkholder. I’ve already talked with the police. What have you done with my dog? If anything’s happened to Hairy, I’ll make hell seem like a winter resort!”
“So that’s what all those questions were about. Some guy was over here this morning annoying the secretary, making a nuisance of himself. Thought maybe a car like mine had been involved in an accident—or a robbery—something like that. Just what is it I’m supposed to have done?”
I told him. “I saw you, Todd. Out past Hughes near that intersection. And then when I got home, somebody had searched my apartment and Hairy Brown was gone. I’d think you’d at least have the guts to confront me to my face. Why are you doing this? You haven’t hurt my dog, have you?” Surely even Todd wouldn’t do that. Would he?
“I have no interest in your mutt, Mary George, and I’ve never been inside your apartment. Believe me, if I had, you’d know it for sure. And it wouldn’t be for the dog.”
My throat felt dry, so dry I had trouble swallowing. “Watch out for this guy, Mary George,” my friend Missy had warned me, but of course I hadn’t listened. I was listening now.
When Todd spoke again, his voice, under other circumstances, might be considered a lover’s whisper. “Don’t you worry, my girl, I won’t forget this. Or you.”
I thought Doc Nichols would never get back from lunch, although he only took his usual forty-five minutes. I was even glad to see Amanda Fitzgerald and her ill-tempered cat, Snooks, whose evil fangs and claws would make a Bengal tiger think twice. By two o’clock the waiting room was jammed and I didn’t have time to worry until the last patient, an energetic Laborador, led his owner to the parking lot and home.
“Try not to think about it, Sport. We’re going to find that funny old dog of yours.” Doc Nichols watched me from the door of the examining room as I gathered my things at the end of the day. It was after six and I usually left a half hour before that. He shook his head and smiled. “You know nobody’s gonna want that dog but you. He’ll turn up.”
I knew he was trying to make me smile, so I did. I had called Animal Control three times, and we’d been in touch with the microchip company to see if Hairy had been turned in at a shelter, but so far, no luck.
“Give it some time,” the doc said, briskly drying his hands. “He’s only been missing since yesterday. Who knows, when you get home, you might just find a big, brown dog waiting on your doorstep.”
But what if he wasn’t? I dreaded going back to those three empty rooms. Even Augusta had deserted me, and the weather didn’t cooperate either. Just as I reached our street, thunder rumbled and black clouds turned day into night. If Hairy were there he would hear my car in the drive and gallop to meet me. Oh, how I wanted to see his big, raggedy shape!
But Hairy Brown wasn’t there. Instead someone else waited under the small overhang by the door. Someone tall. A man. And in the shadows I couldn’t see his face.
 
H
e waved and started toward me at a half run. I didn’t have room to turn around without running over him, and it was raining so hard I couldn’t see to back down the drive. I locked my doors as I threw on the brakes, scattering gravel left and right. If Todd wanted to reach me, he’d have to break a window.
“Mary George?” Someone tapped on the window glass. He had something oblong in his other hand, and with a snap it ballooned into something round. “Thought you might need an umbrella,” Kent Coffey said. “Watch your step. There’s a puddle here.”
Sheepishly, I unlocked my door, and with his arm to steady me, stepped into the mire. I was glad the rain hid my burning face.
“Heard about your break-in yesterday,” Kent said as he waited for me to unlock my front door. “Hairy turned up yet?”
I shook my head. “No, and I can’t imagine where he is. Looks like he just disappeared.” I wanted to cry. Instead I went into the bathroom and wrapped my wet hair in a towel.
I found Kent flipping through a magazine in the living room, looking about him as if he might be disappointed. “Did you expect to see the grisly scene of the crime?” I asked, tucking my towel into a turban.
“From what Miss Fronie said, I thought maybe Ma Barker and the boys had dropped by.” Kent tossed aside his magazine and sat beside me. “Sure surprised me! I might’ve walked in on your mystery guest yesterday if I hadn’t been in a hurry to keep an appointment.”
“What do you mean?”
“I came home for a few minutes to get a report I needed, and was on my way out when I heard somebody down here. I just thought it was you. Still, I wondered why you were home in the middle of the afternoon.” Kent frowned. “Started to stop by, ask if you were sick, if I could bring you something, but then I thought if you really felt bad, you’d rather not be bothered.”
It couldn’t have been Robbie. Our young neighbor said he fed and exercised the dog around noon. “What about the dog?” I said. “Did you hear Hairy?”
He closed his eyes. “Hairy. No, I don’t believe I did. He didn’t bark or growl, anything like that.”
He wouldn’t, of course. “Was there a car? Whoever was here must’ve had some kind of transportation.”
“Didn’t notice any, but he could have parked on the street. Neighbors wouldn’t pay much attention to a car parked on a public street.”
I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. It hit me like a splash of ice water how frightened I was. When Kent went back to his own apartment I would be alone, and although I no longer kept a key under the loose brick out front, it wouldn’t take a magician to get inside. I examined my fingernails, gnawed to nubs, and curled them into fists. Why was Todd doing this to me? What did he want?
Kent touched my arm with what was probably meant to be a reassuring touch and I had to force myself not to jump away from him.
What if the intruder hadn’t been Todd
? I didn’t know if that was good or bad.
“I suppose you’ve checked the animal shelters?” Kent leaned back to look at me. He must have read my message as he didn’t try to touch me.
“And all the vets within a hundred miles. Nothing.”
“Then let’s go take a look around.” This time he did grab my hand.
“Where?” I let him pull me to my feet. The towel slipped to the floor.
“Here. Troublesome Creek. Anywhere. We’ll grab some hamburgers. I’ll drive, and you look. Maybe we’ll see him, maybe not. At least we’ll be doing something.” He threw the towel at me and waited by the door. “Hurry and get ready. I’m starving.”
I dried my hair and put on jeans and a baggy blue shirt. This man was almost as bossy as Augusta, but for some reason I didn’t resent it. After all, he was just trying to help. God knows, I needed it! Kent was right: at least we’d be doing
something
. And I wasn’t completely unaware that the rain had made my hair curl just a little around my face and that the blue of my shirt was the color of Kent Coffey’s eyes.
 
 
We drove in gloomy drizzle for most of two hours, cruising past back alleys, vacant lots, trash collection sites where stray animals usually hang out. Three or four scavenging dogs scattered when our headlights circled the parking lot behind Anderson’s Market, but none of them was Hairy Brown.
The rain had slacked when we pulled in front of Earl’s Quick Trip for gas, and as Kent went inside to pay, I saw Delia Sims coming out with a sack in her hand. I called to her and waved from where I waited in the car.
“Mary George, is that you? Whose car?” She frowned as she looked it over.
I explained about Kent, and then about Hairy Brown since she hadn’t heard what had happened. “He’s not anywhere in town,” I said. “We’ve looked everywhere we could think of—and then some.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Delia reached in the window and took my hand, and the sweet, familiar touch of an old friend made me wilt a little. “I’m afraid something awful’s happened to him.” I sniffed, searching for a tissue.
Cans clanked as she shifted the sack to her other arm, patted her pockets. “You say your apartment was disturbed. Was anything else missing?”
“Not that I could tell.”
“I just thank the good Lord you’re all right, Mary George Murphy! I hope you’ve locked that place up tight.” Delia put her head to one side and looked at me with her big old worried brown eyes. “You know you can stay with me.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Miss Fronie’s close by, and Kent’s just upstairs. It’s not like I’m there all alone,” I dried my eyes on the tail of my shirt.
She clutched the bag closer and made that little cat-sneeze sound that means she doesn’t put much significance to what I said. “You know what he’s after, don’t you?” Delia said. “Somebody’s looking for that Bible, Mary George.”
“Well, they’re looking in the wrong place. I don’t have it. It might help, though if I could get my hands on that cookie jar. Surely that woman’s due back from Europe soon. I’ve tried and tried to call her. Just how long a tour is she taking?”
“I imagine she’ll be back any day now. Her cousin should know; if you like, I’ll give Lottie a call tomorrow.” Delia peered closer. “But what makes you think having that cookie jar will bring you any closer to finding the Bible?”
“I just know Aunt Caroline meant for me to have it, that’s all. Guess I’ll know more when I find it.” How could I say more? The ceramic dog had been the first thing I’d noticed in the attic after Aunt Caroline died. Set apart from everything else, it was as if she had meant it as a sign. And even then, I didn’t realize its significance until it worked its way into my dreams. I had dreamed of the ceramic dog for the third time the night before. This time I was decorating cookies to fill the jar, sprinkling sugar crystals over a large gingerbread angel. Only it wasn’t Aunt Caroline who was helping me but my grandmother, who died when I was four, and whose face I barely remembered. Yet I knew it was my grandmother.
“Are you absolutely sure you don’t have that Bible?” Delia insisted. “Could Caroline have put it inside something? Maybe it’s in another cover.”
“Why would she do that?” I couldn’t imagine why anybody would be interested in that old Bible in the first place, but the facts screamed out. Somebody wanted
something
badly enough to search my things—maybe even enough to kill.
“At first I thought it was Todd, but now I’m not so sure.” I told Delia how my ex-fiancé had stalked me the day before. “He denies it, of course, and he could be telling the truth, but he says things—threatening things. I’m not kidding, Delia, this guy gives me the creeps.”
“Who gives you the creeps?” Kent opened the door on the driver’s side and slid in beside me, depositing a six-pack between us. “Thought I might talk you into coming up for a beer?”
Delia stuck her head in my window and gave him the once-over. I introduced the two of them in the manner Aunt Caroline had taught me, but when Kent smiled and reached across me to offer his hand, Delia backed quickly away, barely acknowledging it.
“Better go,” she said. “Ran clean out of cat food—that’s why I’m here—and the kitties are waiting. Can’t let my babies go hungry.” She gave the car door a final thump before turning away. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Mary George.”
It sounded like a warning.
“What was that all about?” Kent asked as we drove away.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on, don’t pretend! That woman back there—your friend. Is my fly unzipped, or was it something I said?”
I laughed and glanced over to check that out. “No to both questions. I think Delia’s getting a little uptight about moving. She’s lived in that house forever, and then she found out they don’t permit pets at that Pine Thicket place. Frankly, I think she has condo-itis!”
My answer seemed to satisfy him, but it didn’t convince me. It wasn’t like my old neighbor to do something like that. She had acted skittish, almost rude. Not like Delia at all.
“Did you leave your stereo on?” Kent asked when we got back to Miss Fronie’s. Benny Goodman or Duke Ellington—somebody—was swinging out with “On the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe.”
I smiled in the darkness as we walked up the narrow flagstone path to my door. Augusta did like those train songs.
 
 
“Where have you been?” I demanded when I was sure Kent was upstairs and out of hearing. Since it was getting kind of late and we both had to work the next day, Kent and I decided to socialize tomorrow night instead, and I’d promised him dinner as well.
“Oh, good. That must mean you missed me.” Augusta grabbed my hands and whirled me about until I felt like one of those china ballerinas on top of a music box.
“‘
Miss you since you went away … miss you more than words can say
… . ’.” Augusta sang, finally settling against the cushions of the couch with her dainty feet crossed. She wasn’t even breathing hard. “Goodness, haven’t thought of that song in years! We heard it just about every day when I was here last.”
I panted, waiting for the room to stop whirling. “You didn’t answer my question,” I said.
“Look, Mary George, I know I can be a bit of a dose at times. I thought you needed a break, that’s all.”
I made a face. “And you didn’t? You really picked a great time to disappear. Somebody came in here while we were out yesterday and tore the place up looking for something, and I haven’t seen Hairy since.” I sank down beside her and put my face in my hands. “Kent and I have been out looking for him for hours, and I’ve checked everywhere. He could be lying out by the side of the road somewhere, you know what a klutz he is.” My head felt like it weighed a ton and I rested it against the back of the sofa.
“I don’t think so,” Augusta said.
“How do you know?” I heard her move, felt myself being covered with my aunt’s soft afghan, but I couldn’t open my eyes.
“Trust me,” Augusta said, and the last thing I remember was the scent of those heavenly strawberries.
I woke refreshed the next morning, still on the sofa, to the smell of coffee brewing and made it to work almost fifteen minutes early. Augusta had sprinkled her shoes with something that looked like—but surely couldn’t be—stardust, and while they dried, padded about with bare feet happily humming the song. I didn’t know if she’d be there when I got back.
 
 
I was checking the classifieds about midmorning to see if they ran my lost-dog ad when Delia appeared like a wraith before me. The Chihuahua in the kennel behind me was yapping so constantly I hadn’t even heard her come in.
A strand of her usually tidy white hair trailed across one cheek, and something that looked like snow drifted down the front of her dress. “Now I know where I’ve seen that man, Mary George! It just came to me all of a sudden-like when I was rolling out pie crust for the picnic tomorrow. You know how Caroline loved peach cobbler … it was one of her favorites, and that’s what made me think of it.”
“Think of what? What man?” I tried to whisper because Royce Bolding was sitting right there under my nose with his accident-prone collie pup, and what Royce doesn’t know hasn’t happened yet.
“That man you were with last night—the one who lives upstairs at Fronie’s. He’s the one I saw at your aunt’s last spring, the one I told you about.”
I rattled the newspaper, hid behind it, trying not to smile. “Delia, you must be mistaken. What would Kent Coffey be doing at Aunt Caroline’s? Why, he didn’t even know her.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, clamped that mouth tight as an oyster, and leaned as far as she could over the counter. “And how do you know that, Mary George? Do you think he’s about to admit it?” My neighbor reared back and got a second wind. “And I’ll tell you something else: his car looked familiar too. Thought I’d seen it somewhere before, and I have.
Parked right over there in Caroline’s driveway
.”
BOOK: Angel at Troublesome Creek
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