Maddie Cochere - Two Sisters and a Journalist 01 - Murder Under Construction (16 page)

I carried the beer bottle to the kitchen and tossed it in the trash before checking the doors and windows to be sure they were locked. I left the light on over the kitchen sink and slogged my way up the stairs. It would feel good to climb into bed.

The hallway was dimly lit at night by a few recessed lights along the walls, so I didn’t bother with the bedroom lamp and simply made a beeline for the bathroom. I stopped in my tracks when I saw a glimmer of light out the window. It was a small light, like the one I had seen two nights ago. It wasn’t moving away this time, it was coming toward me.

Was this the same person I had seen before? Why were they in the construction site? What were they looking for?

I suddenly felt cold. What if it was the same person who peeked in my kitchen window? Maybe it was the same person who opened the window to my murder room? I may have seen them running away that night. Were they coming back now?

The light was halfway across the site now. I quickly checked the windows in the two spare bedrooms. Both were locked. I ran to the murder room. Even before entering, I could see by the dim hallway lighting that the blinds were closed. I stepped into the room and flipped the wall switch for the overhead light.

I was momentarily stunned. Someone had been in the room. The white board was clean. Everything tacked to it was gone, and all of the information I had written was wiped off. My laptop was gone from my desk. Absolutely everything I had pertaining to Paula’s murder had been stolen.

Whoever did this might still be in the house, but my instincts told me I was alone. If someone wanted to hurt me, they could have done it while I was sleeping in the chair for six hours.

I raced back to the bedroom window and peered out again. The light was past the first dirt mound now and would soon be to my back yard. I knew I had to get out of the house.

I ran through the darkness and grabbed my keys before bolting out the front door. I made sure it locked behind me.

Now what?

I could drive away. That would ensure my safety. I could run over to Pepper’s. I definitely should call the police. Someone had broken into my house and stolen my laptop, and the prowler from Friday night might be in the construction site.

But a little voice in my head said if I was going to be a private investigator, I needed to handle some of these situations by myself. I suddenly felt emboldened and decided to find out who was skulking around in the site on my own.

I ran across my front yard and through the Irwin’s yard next door. I cut between their property and Mrs. Wyler’s and ran back to the construction site. This put me near the third mound of dirt where I had found Paula’s body.

It was dark, but I knew the ground was flat here. The moon was a sliver and kept the night from being pitch black. I crept behind the mounds of dirt to keep them between my house and me. When I rounded the second mound, I saw my upstairs windows clearly. There were glimpses of light in my yard. I moved closer to the bushes at the edge of the property and peered through. The moving light was gone, and I didn’t see anyone.

What was going on? I stared hard. I blinked my eyes several times and tried to pick out movement in the yard, but there was none. I was almost ready to go back into the house when I saw him walk through my kitchen. He passed the sink, and the light illuminated his face. It was Terry Cord. The man who murdered Paula was in my house.

It was definitely time to call the police. Terry Cord was the last man I wanted to face on my own. I backed up and ran behind the mound of dirt. I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

A soft voice whispered urgently out of the dark, “Jo, what’s going on?”

I jumped three feet in the air.

“Stewie! You scared the snot out of me! What are you doing here?”

“I was doing some last minute work on the Jackson closing, and I had a strange feeling I should come by your house to see if you were ok. When I pulled into the driveway, I saw you running between the houses. What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” I said breathlessly. “Someone stole my laptop and erased all of the work I’ve done on Paula’s murder. And now Terry Cord is in my house.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes. I saw him,” I said excitedly. “I know he murdered Paula, and I think he intends to kill me, too.”

“He’s not going to hurt you, Jo,” he said. “He’s just going to get the folder you took out of Paula’s apartment, and then he’s leaving the country again. By the time the police figure out what happened, we’ll both be in Germany, and we won’t be back.”

Confusion clouded my mind. Stewie knew that Terry murdered Paula?

“Stewie, I -”

He cut me off.

“Jo, I’ve told you before. Don’t call me Stewie.” His voice took on an angry tone. “I can’t stand that name. You sound like my mother. Stewie this and Stewie that. Every day she made that disgusting soup with lima beans and called it stew-for-Stewie.” He changed his voice to a high-pitched whine when he said the words again. “
Stew for Stewie
. Every time you call me Stewie, I want to punch something.”

I felt lightheaded. Paula’s words flashed in my mind,
the soup killed me
. I took a step back. The business card I had found. It had to be Stewie’s. The letters TS were from his last name of Tofts. The ALS.COM was from his appraisals business. Stewie was the one who dumped Paula. The words were barely audible as they came out of my mouth. “Terry didn’t kill her. You killed her.”

He didn’t deny it. “All those years of waiting for Terry to run for office again, and that slut gets pregnant and wants Terry to leave his wife and marry her. She was a prostitute for crying out loud. No one would have cared that she died, and everything would have worked out just right, but you had to put your big nose in it. Such a shame, too, because I liked you, Jo.”

It was then I saw a glint off the knife in his hand. I took another step back. I tried to scream, but it was as though my throat had constricted and no sound came out. I turned to run, but only managed a few steps before he grabbed my arm and yanked. I pulled hard in an effort to wrench my arm away.

It felt as if we were moving in slow motion, yet my mind was in hyperdrive. In another second, he would have the knife plunged into my body. I planted my left foot and swung my right foot with all of my might into his groin.

What happened next was surreal. I had an out-of-body experience. I hovered high above us and watched as Stewie grabbed my foot and flip me onto my back. I landed with a thud and a loud oomph. My foot hadn’t connected with his groin at all. The knife was raised and coming down fast. I willed myself to move. I saw my body scoot and manage a half roll. The knife plunged into the fat pad on my hip.

I snapped back into my body and had no trouble screaming as loudly as I could. The pain was searing. Stewie was on top of me in an instant with his hands around my throat, cutting off my voice and breath. I clawed at his hands. Paula’s voice filled my mind again,
pull it out quick and use it
.

There was no longer any pain. A burst of adrenaline surged through my body as I grasped the handle and pulled. I drove the knife upward into Stewie’s body.

His hands let go of my neck, and I gasped for air. He raised himself up before falling over with his hands around the knife. He didn’t have the strength to pull it out, and he made strange gurgling sounds before falling quiet. I tried to stand but fell twice before I was steady and could limp away. I was terrified Terry Cord would find me.

I stopped between the Irwin and Wyler houses and tucked myself in close to a rhododendron bush. I had the Buxley police department on speed dial. I said through chattering teeth, “This is Jo Ravens. I just killed a man.”

The cul-de-sac was full of vehicles and people. No one on Clark Street was sleeping now.

Keith came running around from behind my house and whooped, “I saw the dead guy when they put him in the ambulance.”

Pepper was ready to throttle him. “You and Kelly go back over to the house. Now. You can sit on the front porch, but you have to quit getting underfoot here.”

Kelly protested. “I wasn’t sneaking out back to look at the guy Aunt Jo killed. Why can’t I stay here? I don’t want to miss anything.”

Officer Wheeler was walking toward us. Pepper admonished the kids again. “If you aren’t both over at our house in two minutes, there are going to be punishments, and they are going to involve Grandmama. Go!”

Both kids folded their arms across their chests, stuck lower lips out, and stomped down the driveway.

Glenn stood in front of me. “The ambulance is ten minutes out, Jo. Are you ok? I can run you to the hospital right now if you want. You don’t have to wait.”

I was shivering under the blanket Pepper had thrown around my shoulders - partly from the shock of my encounter with Stewie, and partly from the ice pack against my hip.

“I’ll wait,” I told him. I was doing ok for now and didn’t want to ride to the hospital in the back of a cruiser.

Glenn was on duty and acting professionally, but there had been a time or two when he looked as though he wanted to say something personal to me. There had been a soft look in his eyes. The look reappeared now. “If I can get anything or do anything for you, let me know. I’m really sorry about the mix-up with the ambulance.”

It was an effort to talk, so I nodded to let him know I understood. If I could string words together, I would tell him it wasn’t his fault.

Glenn was first on the scene after my call. Dispatch told him where I was, so he was quick to find me. He tried to convince me to get up and sit in the cruiser, but I refused to leave my rhododendron refuge until I was certain Terry Cord was out of my house and under arrest.

I was huddled up to the bush, aching and sore, worrying about bleeding to death, for nearly half an hour before Glenn came back for me. He reached a hand down, but I didn’t have the strength to pull myself up.

“He stabbed me,” I said and held out my hand. His flashlight caught the blood on my hand and hip.

Without saying a word, he reached down, slipped his arms around me, and pulled me to my feet. It felt nice to be close to him. A second later, he swept me up into his arms to carry me to my house. I was a little shocked he had lifted me - and a lot embarrassed about my weight.

“Put me down. I can walk,” I protested.

He ignored me and carried me as if I were light as a feather. I sat on the porch waiting for an ambulance.

Jackie pulled in a few minutes later and ran over to wake Pepper. Pepper brought the blanket for me, while Jackie went into official reporter mode and started gathering information. She kept Pepper and me apprised of happenings. I was glad to hear her say Terry Cord was nearly to his car on the other side of the construction site when two officers in a cruiser spotted him. They found the folder with Paula’s incriminating evidence against Telcor under his shirt. 

Shortly after that bit of good news, she told us an ambulance had driven onto the construction site to take Stewie away. I asked her why they didn’t send a meat wagon and the coroner, Howard Sanders.

“Because Stewart’s not dead,” she said.

I was stunned to hear her say that. I was certain the noise before he went silent was a death rattle. Something deep inside me was secretly glad he lived. Justice would still be served, and I wouldn’t have to live knowing I had taken the life of another. He had no qualms about wanting to take my life, and he had taken Paula’s, but I didn’t want his death on my conscience.

She also told me an officer was nailing plywood over the broken basement window behind the shrub at the back of my house. That explained how Terry entered the house so quickly. He must have broken it earlier when he cleaned out the murder room.

Fatigue was setting in fast. The knife wound on my hip was a deep puncture wound, so it wasn’t bleeding excessively. If I had told Glenn I’d been stabbed when he first found me, I would be at the hospital already, but the first ambulance took Stewie and left. Not that I would have ridden with him anyway.

A car parked down the street. A man exited and ran toward the house. I thought it might be Sergeant Rorski. He had been conspicuously absent throughout the entire ordeal. I almost laughed when I saw it was Doug Preston. Talk about late to the party.

He was unkempt, and I was sure a plaid pajama top was sticking out of his pants. He held a notebook in one hand, a pen in the other. He seemed overly excited. “What’s going on here, Jo? Why haven’t you called me so I could interview you about the dead girl? Give me the 411 quick. Did you kill someone here tonight?”

Jackie stepped out onto the porch and told him, “It’s pretty much all over now, Doug, and I’ve already called in most of the details. You can read about it in the morning edition.”

His frustration was apparent. He turned and stomped down the driveway, not unlike Keith and Kelly earlier. Halfway down, he threw his hands in the air and yelled, “It was supposed to be my exclusive, Jackie.”

Pepper sat down beside me and put her arm around my shoulders. “You did a good job on this, Jo. You didn’t quite have it all figured out, but you caused enough ruckus to get to the truth - even if you did get to it the hard way. You’re going to make a good investigator.”

I gave both girls an appreciative smile. “As long as I have a sister and a journalist by my side, I think I’ll make a great P.I.”

~ ~ ~

Mama clinked glasses and clanged plates with gusto in my kitchen. I appreciated that she wanted to wash up the dishes from lunch, but I would have preferred that she simply load them into the dishwasher. She was a pro at chipping dinnerware.

“Can we do anything else for you before we leave?” Pepper asked.

I shook my head. I was managing without too much difficulty. A pillow between my knees, and one behind my hip, gave me the most comfort as I stretched out on the sofa. Painkillers were helping, too.

Pepper fussed anyway and made sure magazines and the television remote were within reach. She refilled my glass with lemonade and placed the red phone on the floor next to the sofa. “I’ll call you later,” she said.

Keith gave me a hug and set the shadowbox he made for me in the center of the coffee table. Both kids had brought homemade gifts to cheer me. Pepper said she was marking the projects down as art class toward their homeschooling. I didn’t mean to laugh when she said it, but I still couldn’t see her going all in and schooling them.

They left with a promise to check in on me later.

Mama was finished in the kitchen. “I’m leaving, too, Jo,” she said. “It’s Monday Madness Bingo at the church today, and I’m meeting your Aunt Bee.”

“Ok. Thanks for bringing lunch. It was good.” Her tuna noodle casserole was the recipe from her old Betty Crocker cookbook. I loved the casserole as a child, and I loved it now.

She stood by the door, but she didn’t leave right away. I knew there was something coming I didn’t want to hear.

“I know you want to be a dick,” she said.

“It’s a private investigator, Mama. A private eye.”

She ignored me. “I think this incident last night should show you this isn’t the job for you. You weren’t strong enough to fight that guy off, and he almost killed you.”

“But he didn’t kill me,” I said as a start to my defense. “And you don’t have to be -”

She cut me off. “No, he didn’t kill you, but this isn’t work for a girl. This is a man’s job, and you need to get this silly idea out of your head. This won’t end well if you do this.”

My voice went up a couple of octaves. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. This is the third murder I’ve helped solve. I can be good at this.”

She half closed her eyes and held her hand up in a stop motion. “I just want you to know how I feel about it. Someday I’ll be saying I told you so - if you’re alive to hear it.”

I knew there was no use arguing with her. She didn’t understand how I felt about investigating, and I wasn’t going to try to convince her.

“I’ll stop back tomorrow to see how you’re doing,” she said before walking out the door.

I hated arguing with Mama. We rarely saw eye to eye on anything - politics, religion, and even simple things like who should win American Idol.

The house was quiet now. I was tired and wanted to take a nap, but I needed to use the bathroom first. The doctor didn’t want me to walk any more than necessary for a few days, but this was necessary.

I hobbled into the half bath off the kitchen. This was the hard part – sitting on the toilet seat with only one good buttock.

No one was around, and because I knew it would feel good to say them, I interspersed swear words between short cries of “ouch, ouch.”

I reached for the toilet paper on the holder opposite the toilet and caught a movement in the kitchen out of the corner of my eye.

I threw my hands over my face and screamed.

I wanted to die. Absolutely die right there. I reached a hand out to the bathroom door and gave it a shove. It slammed with a loud bang.

It took a couple of minutes, but I finished my business and made sure my bandages were secure. I examined myself in the mirror. Had I even brushed my hair today? I rummaged in the drawer and found an old comb of Alan’s. I raked it through the tangles. I washed my face and used a mostly dried-out mascara from the back of the drawer. My cheeks and lips were on their own. At least my t-shirt was clean and my sweatpants didn’t have holes.

I gritted my teeth, opened the door, and shuffled in my orange fuzzy slippers through the kitchen. I rounded the corner to the living room, half hoping he would be gone.

Glenn jumped to his feet. He was holding a pretty bouquet of flowers. It reminded me of the bouquets in the cooler at the grocery store.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I talked with Pepper, and she said the door was open, and I should walk right in.” He laid the flowers on the table and gave me a hand with my pillows as I settled into my reclining position again.

I managed a smile and simply said, “It’s ok.”

He picked up the flowers. “I hope you like daisies. Do you have a vase?”

“There’s one on the top shelf of the cupboard to the left of the sink.”

On his way to the kitchen, he called over his shoulder, “That was a great write up in the paper today, don’t you think?”

I grabbed
The Buxley Beacon
from the coffee table. The entire front page was devoted to the story. Jackie had done a wonderful job of spelling out the details of Paula’s murder and the downfall of Terry Cord. She made it clear Ruby Rosewell, a.k.a. Paula Charlotte Radford, had never been a prostitute. She was simply a girl who loved to dance. I especially liked the part where she referred to me as
Investigator Jo Ravens
. I don’t know how she got away with that.

“She did,” I said. “Jackie’s a good writer. She’s working on a novel. I expect she’ll be famous one day.”

Glenn slid Keith’s shadowbox over and set the vase of flowers in the middle of the table. “If you keep solving murders, you’ll be famous one day, too.”

I laughed. “I’m a regular Clouseau, aren’t I?”

We made some small talk, but my eyes drooped, and I had a hard time stifling yawns.

“Go ahead and take a nap,” Glenn said. “I’ll sit with you for a while, and then I’ll let myself out.”

I nodded and shoved my hand under my chin so my mouth would stay shut. I hoped it would keep me from snoring. I was asleep within minutes.

Short dreams came and went. They were pleasant. They were like my dreams of old – fun and colorful. In one, I strolled through a field of beautiful flowers and saw people slow dancing in the distance. Some had partners, others made round, sweeping moves by themselves. It was lovely to watch. One girl in a tangerine dress stood out. I knew even before I saw her face it was Paula. She twirled and looked in my direction. Her face beamed with happiness. She waved, and I knew she was waving goodbye. I wanted to talk to her, and I started to run through the flowers.

The red phone jangled my dream into oblivion.

My usual state of confusion surrounded me when I was startled awake. Glenn had fallen asleep in the comfy overstuffed chair, and he appeared momentarily confused as well.

I grabbed the handset and mumbled, “Two setters and a cellist.”

Jackie burst into laughter. “How many pain pills have you taken?”

“All of them,” I said before quickly adding, “Not really. I was napping. Glenn’s here. I guess he was napping, too.”

“Really?” Her voice had a devilish edge to it. “Glenn is there, and the two of you are napping? Very nice.”

“It’s not like that. He stopped by to bring flowers and see how I was feeling. I simply couldn’t stay awake. He -”