Broke: (15 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Everyone in the room froze at the sound of the doorbell. Theo stood,
one hand
still
on the back of Dewey's chair
, looking mi
serable. Dewey put a disgusted sneer
on his face. It was hard to read Hortense
.
Ralph had worn his cop face ever since Dewey had threatened to drive drunk.
So
Immy decided she'd better see if Nelda
had arrived
.

She
turned on the porch light and
opened the door to a petite
, blond
woman who looked nothing like Theo. "Yes?" said Immy, holding the door open just
wide
enough to talk
, not sure if she should let the woman in
.

"Is this where Imogene Duckworthy lives?" the woman said. Her
tone
was belliger
e
nt and Immy
wasn't sure if
she should give anything away to this stranger.

"I believe so.
"
Immy remembered her manners. She'd had enough of rude people today.
"
But who's asking, please?" Maybe this woman would get the hint and find
some manners herself,
somewhere.

"I'm here to see Theo Nichols." Nope, she couldn't find her manners.
Her words were clipped and cold.

"Who are you?" Bluntness might work, Immy thought.
She folded her arms and stood her ground.

"Is he here?"
The rude woman
stuck her head out and looked like she was going to make a play for the away team.

"For godssake, Aunt Nelda." Theo came up behind Immy and opened the door to admit the little bulldog of a woman. "What's the matter with you?"

"You need to leave right now, young man." She
took a few steps into the
Great Hall
and
addressed Theo
,
ignor
ing
the rest of the people in the room.

"Aunt Nelda," said Theo, gesturing toward Immy, "this is my cousin Imogene, and this is her mother, Mrs. Duckworthy." He swept a hand toward Hortense.
"
Ralph Sandoval, and y
ou probably know my father, Dwight."

The
bad-mannered
woman kept her eyes on Theo after a brief glance at the others. "You need to come with me. There's an emergency."

"I'd better b
e
going," said Ralph, and he fled the scene. Immy hoped he wouldn't go too far.

"Did you drive here
, all the way
from Ft. Worth?" asked Immy.

Nelda threw her a glare.

"Would you like some refreshment?"
Immy smiled
, showing her teeth
.
The ruder that woman was, the politer Immy was determined to be. "There are
delicious, fresh b
rownies, too, if you'd like."

Nelda
huffed, like Immy was being rude. The nerve.
"Does that mean you don't want any?
" Immy smiled bigger, making her voice meltingly sweet. "
I believe I'll have some more wine." Immy emptied the bottle into her glass and
plopped
into a chair
, leaving the woman standing.

"Aunt Nelda..." Theo
raised his palms toward her and
looked embarrassed. "There's no reason to be so rude. This is my family."

"
I'm
your family," she said.
"This person--" she jabbed a well-manicured but stubby finger at Dewey "--ran out on you.
They're
his
family.
How can you call these people
your
family?"

Dewey kept the disgusted sneer on his face
as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye
. Immy didn't think he was trying to endear himself to Nelda.

"Can we talk outside?" Nelda asked.

Theo followed her to the front porch. Immy had half a mind to turn off the porch light.

"I'll tell ya why she's here." Dewey was still slurring his words, but looked less floppy, more alert. Or maybe just angry. "Frieda, my ex, made her sisser promise ta keep Theo away from me when she was on her deathbed. Tha' bitch wrote me and tole me thass what she did. She wrote me in prison t
a
tell me that. What a--"

Theo came in
,
shaking his head and clenching his fists
. "I gotta go. The IRS is running an audit on my business tomorrow."

"What is your business?" Immy said.

"I'm a financial advisor.
"

"A stock broker?" she asked.

"Yeah, I invest for my clients. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He
waved to them and
left.
Dewey slumped, going back to acting
extremely drunk.

"I could speculate as to why the woman chose to make the journey here, rather than to use telephonic communication," Hortense said, sipping the last of the one glass of wine she'd had.
"But I wouldn't come up with a conclusion."

"I was wondering that, too," Immy said.
"Sounds like she
mostly
wanted to get him away from us, the horrible family.
Or maybe she wanted to check us out and see how horrible we really are.
"
She finished her glass in a couple gulps. It was a good night to drink lots of wine.

"I will return to my own abode now. I wonder if I could offer transport to D
wight
."

He was tilting
to the left
. Immy was afraid he might fall off the chair. "Help me get him onto the couch. I think he'
ll
have to
stay here tonight."

The two women each grabbed a muscular upper arm and propelled
Dewey
to the settee. He fell onto his side
.
Immy
lifted his feet onto the cushion
and started
remov
ing
his boot
s
.
He was snoring by the time she got the first boot off.

"Imogene," whispered Hortense, pulling her away from the couch. "Do you suppose Theo
dore
has the same proclivities that his parent has?"

"Um, which proclivities
?
" And which parent, Immy wondered.

"The larcenous ones. Your Uncle Dwight was incarcerated for defrauding people out of their capital. Is it possible that the government is investigating Theo
dore
for a similar trespass, related to the brokerage business?"

"I think it's
only
an audit. He seems nice to me."

Hortense didn't look convinced.

After Hortense left,
Immy
covered
her uncle
with a blanket and started upstairs, tired after her entertaining, and disappointed that such a pleasant meal had to end on such a sour note.

But there was no rest for her yet. A light rap sounded on the front door.

"Dammit! What now?"
She trudged back down the steps.

The porch light was still on and she peeked to see Vance and the little toad man.

"What the hell?" she said, opening the door. "Do you know what time it is?"

Vance had the good grace to look embarrassed. "I know it's late. But we were driving past and saw all the lights on.
We thought you might be up.
"

From the aroma, it seemed they'd finished off their meal with a bunch of drinks, too.
She'
d
remember to turn the porch light off after this.
Lock the door
and
turn off the lights.

Immy stepped outside
and gripped her upper arms for warmth
. "There's someone sleeping on the couch." She didn't think they'd wake
her Uncle Dewey
if they talked inside, maybe even if they shouted. But she didn't want to let them in. She was beginning to have some trust issues with Vance.

"You have a man staying over?" asked Vance.

She started to tell him it was her uncle, then decided to try to build some jealousy. "A ver
rr
y, ver
rr
y good friend
,
"
s
he
said, catching her lower lip with her teeth on the Vs.
"He's staying tonight
and...
I don't know for how long."
She
gave a one-shoulder shrug and
put on a dreamy smile.

"You're not allowed to sublet."

She frowned, probably destroying the whole
effect
.
"Good grief, I'm not subletting. He's too drunk to drive."

"Where's his car?"

Theo's car was gone and Dewey had come with him.
Time to change the subject.

"Listen, why are you here at this hour?" He wasn't intending to jump into the sack
with her while he had
that other guy along. Was he?
Oh dear.
Was Vance kinky?
Immy wouldn't like that.

"Just stopping by.
Wanted to talk to you about something.
"

She took a
forceful
step forward. "Were you going to try your key again?"

He backed up. "No, no, I knocked, didn't I?"

"Not very hard."
She advanced
another
half a step.

Vance backed up a
gain
. "Look, it's too late. I'm sorry Quentin and I bothered you. We'll come by another time." One more step back
. But h
e'd reached the e
dge
of the porch.

He tumbled down the wooden steps. Quentin
scrambled after him
and
squatted
on the sidewalk
.

Vance rose to his hands and knees, blood dripp
ing
from somewhere on his head.

"Oh shit, you're hurt," said Immy. She ran
to Vance
and knelt beside Quentin. "Do you need some ice?"

"This is your fault," said Quentin.
He was even uglier when he was angry.

"What? How is this my fault?"

"You backed him off the porch."

Immy stood and looked down at the pair of them. "I haven't found out why you were on my porch in the first place.

Vance swiped a hand at the back of his head and it came away red and dripping.

"Do you want some paper towels?" asked Immy.

"
Got
some in the car." Quentin hopped up and ran to get them. He returned, pressed a wad of paper to Vance's head, and
helped
Vance limp to the car's passenger seat.

Immy watched the taillights go up the street and stayed outside in the chilly night air for a few more minutes. Her wi
ne buzz had dissipated and she wasn't
a bit sleepy. There was something in her house that Vance wanted. She wondered if it was the same thing Geoff had been looking for upstairs.
She wanted to find it first, w
hatever it was.

Chapter Seventeen

Immy woke up early
, and
with a headache. Rats. It was Saturday and she could have slept in
, except for her pounding temples
.
And except for the fact that
Drew and Marshmallow bounded into her room
and
Drew tugged her out of bed. They all clattered down the stairs before Immy remembered that Uncle Dewey
had spent the night on
the couch.

H
e'd
already
heard the racket and was sitting up, rubbing a hand over his
stubbly morning
face. Maybe Immy should offer him the razor she used on her legs. Maybe later.

"Hey, punkin," he said to Drew. Last night's wine didn't seem to have affected him. Maybe when Immy was older she'd develop more tolerance for the stuff.

Drew ran to Dewey and he ruffled her curly head
with a gnarled hand
.

"You slept in your clothes,"
Drew
said, looking down at her own, more appropriate night wear.

"I forgot to bring my PJs over."

"Are you gonna stay all day?"

He looked at Immy. "What's the plan? Where's Theo?"

Maybe his tolerance wasn't that great. He didn't seem to remember where Theo had gone. "Nelda was here last night. He went back to Ft. Worth with her."

"Oh Chri--. Oh criminy. Now I remember. That...witch came and snatched him away."

"
A
witch
was
here
? Where is she
, Mommy?"

"You need to go give Marshmallow his breakfast. I'll be in the kitchen in a minute."

The girl and the pig scampered away.
Immy thought Marshmallow had learned the words for eating: breakfast, lunch, supper, treat.

"You're welcome to stay here if you need to, Uncle Dewey.
Y
ou were
staying
with Theo at the motel
,
I guess.
"

"Yep. He was taking good care of me. I wonder if he'll be back."

"He said he would, as soon as he could. Do you want some breakfast?"

Immy
decided to make
pancakes for the humans.

She used a mix, but t
hey turned out well.
Maybe they turned out well
because
she used a mix.
She even found some frozen blueberries that she thawed under running water
for a minute
and set in a dish. Drew had always been suspicious of blue food and turned up her nose at them, but Dewey heaped them on his flapjacks and ate heartily. Immy thought this was probably how Hortense felt when people like Ralph and Chief Emersen chowed down her cooking. It made her feel good to see Dewey so enthusiastic about her handiwork.
The dinner had gone well last night, the eating part of it.
Maybe she should take up cooking.

"Now," he said, patting his belly and sipping the last of his coffee, "what are you going to do with me? I
reckon
Theo took his car."

"I could drop you at the motel if you'd like," said Immy. "Or
, as I said,
you're welcome to spend the day here. We don't have plans, except to work on the house."

"I could help with--"

The doorbell rang. Immy went to answer it.

A
Wymee Falls police officer and a
nother
man
, this one
in a suit
,
were
standing on the porch
. Did the city council send policemen when they condemned a house? she wondered. Oh well, she'd face the music.

She
squared her shoulders and
swung the door open
, asking
if she could help them.

"Are you harboring Dwight Duckworthy?" the
uniformed
officer asked.

"I don't think I'm harboring him, but he's in the kitchen."

"We need to speak with him, ma'am," said the man in the suit. "I'm Detective Ramsey and this is Officer Cross."

Good name for
the officer
, thought Immy.
She wondered if
the
irritated
frown
was
his
permanent
expression
. Detective Ramsey looked a little more pleasant, but still very serious. She
felt a slight tremor of
fear. "Is anything wrong?"

"May we come in?" asked the cross officer.

"What makes you think he's here? Did Ralph tell you that?"

"Who's Ralph?" Officer Cross looked a little more human when he was puzzled.
"You said he was in the kitchen."

"Oh yeah." Her interrogation techniques needed some brush up.

Dewey walked up
behind Immy
. "What's the problem, officers?"

Officer Cross
whipped around
behind Dewey so fast Immy barely saw him move.

While he snapped handcuffs on her uncle, Detective Ramsey
cleared his throat and
started reciting in a sing-song voice
.
"Dwight Duckworthy, you're under arrest for the murder of Lyle Cisnernos. You ha
ve the right to remain silent."

"Yeah, I know the drill," said Dewey
, succumbing to the indignity with grace, Immy thought
. "But you got the wrong guy."

The detective went through the whole Miranda thing anyway.

"Honest, I was asleep.
" Dewey sounded reasonable. "
I was way too drunk to kill anybody."

Immy didn't think that sounded like the best defense. "Uncle Dewey, maybe you should
do that remaining silent thing."

The officer tugged on Dewey's arm to propel him out the door.

"I'll start working on your case, Uncle Dewey," Immy called after them as they headed for the cruiser at the curb. "
I'll call Theo. And a lawyer.
Right away."

Did they have to leave th
ose
flashing lights on? That was sort of embarrassing. Immy peeked up and down the street, but didn't see any gawkers. Maybe none of the neighbors
had
see
n
what happened
.

But what if her boss drove by?

Immy
sat on the porch steps and
phoned the lawyer she'd used earlier in the year when she'd had some legal issues,
Sarah Joyce. Ms. Joyce's answering message said the office was open weekdays,
and Immy's heart sank. But the message went on to give
an emergency number.
That was a relief. It only made sense.
A criminal attorney was bound to have felons calling after office hours. The call to that number went to an answering machine, too, but three minutes after Immy hung up, the scrappy little lawyer called her back.

"Good to hear from you again, Immy. Whatcha got this time?" she said.

"My uncle is in some sort of trouble. I wonder if you could help out." Immy was still on the porch. She didn't want Drew to hear her conversation.
The child
picked up everything she heard.

"What uncle is this? I thought he died?"

"This is a new uncle."

"What sorta trouble? Criminal or civil?"

"Criminal, I guess. They think he killed someone."

"Who thinks that?"

"The Wymee Falls cops."

"That's criminal and that's trouble, all right."

Immy gave her all the details she knew, which weren't very many. When the lawyer wanted to discuss payment, Immy wasn't quite sure how to proceed.

"He just got out of prison, so he doesn't have any money. Can he work out a payment plan?"

"Prison? You're kidding me." Her voice rose in Immy's ear. "What was he in for?"

Ralph
had driven up and now
he hopped out
, grabbed his toolbox
and came up the sidewalk
to sit
beside Immy. She turned away a little, but he was going to hear the whole thing.

"He was in for some kind of fraud."

Ralph
tapped her shoulder and
mouthed the question, "Dewey?"

She nodded.

"What kind?" the lawyer asked.

"Um, some kind of swindle. I'm not sure exactly. It involved rodeos."

Ralph raised his eyebrows and mouthed, "Who?"

Immy answered, "Lawyer," also silently.

"Give me his full name and I'll look him up."

Immy told her, Dwight Duckworthy, and that he'd been in Allblue.

"I'll get back to you." Sarah Joyce hung up.

"Well, what was that about?" asked Ralph.

"Oh Ralph...." Immy couldn't help it. Her eyes filled with tears of frustration. "They just hauled Dewey away."

She collapsed on his nice, solid chest and had a bit of a cry. But soon Ralph raised her chin and wiped the tears off her cheeks.
"Who hauled him away? Where
to
?"

"The Wymee cops. They arrested him for a murder he didn't do."

"Nobody ever does murder."

"Well, somebody does."
She pushed away. If he was going to be like that....

"Nope. They all say they're innocent. Swear on stacks of bibles, mothers' graves."

Immy stood and started pacing the front sidewalk. "But I know he didn't kill that guy."

"Which guy?"

"The one I found in the bathtub."

"Ah
, that guy
. Come inside and tell me about it.
And y
ou wanted me to look at that drain upstairs."

Immy gasped
, putting the plugged drain and the dead guy together in her mind
. "Do you think...? The drain that's slow is the one in the bathtub where he died. Do you think th
ere's a body part or something in
there?"

She hadn't used the bathtub for bathing, and probably never would, but she had tried to clean it.

"I think it's a very old bathtub. I don't think the dead man lost a body part down the drain. If he had, forensics would have missed it and gone looking
for it
."

He led the way inside and Immy followed him up the stairs.

Ralph stuck his
plumbing
tool
into
the drain and twirled it around. There was dark sludgy stuff on it when he drew it out, but no body parts. He plumbed the drain depths again.

"What do you know about the Cisneros case?" Immy asked.

"Not much, since I'm not a Wymee Falls cop."

"But you people talk to each other, don't you?"

"Not much."

He wasn't going to spill.
"Well, could you find out what they have on Dewey? Why did they suddenly arrest him today?"

Ralph shrugged, drawing more goop out of the drain. "They've probably been questioning people. Maybe
someone
gave them incriminating information against him. Maybe they caught him in a lie."

"He's not lying!"

He looked up at her. "You don't know that, Immy. You don't know this guy."

Her brain knew that was true, but something else in her wouldn't believe it. "Can he take a lie detector test?"

"Sure, but it wouldn't help him. Th
ose
can't be used in court." He wiped the probe thing off with a rag and put it back into his tool box. "I think this is clear now." He stood up and ran the water.

Immy was happy to see it swirl down the drain. "Well, let's make a list of other suspects.
I
n case Dewey
is
telling the truth and didn't kill Lyle Cisneros."

Ralph trailed her down the staircase and into the kitchen. "Do you have any Dr. Pepper?" he asked.

Immy handed him a can and put a paper and pencil on the table. She made a column heading: SUSPECTS IN CISNEROS CASE.

When her pencil hovered on the next line, Ralph said, "You should put Dewey first."

Immy ignored that.

"There was another guy with them that night. Grunt, Dewey called him." She penciled his name in. "Oh yes, Abe was his first name.
" She added that. "
He's someone Lyle knew.
Weren't you going to go through the people named Abe that were released from Allblue recently?
"