One Dog Too Many (A Mae December Mystery) (13 page)

“Stay here. I’m going to fix you a hot toddy.”

He went to the liquor cabinet and took the bottle of bourbon into the kitchen. She heard cabinets opening and closing and Ben talking to the dogs. He hummed the tune the organist had played at Ruby’s service. After a few minutes, the teapot started its shrill whistle. Ben walked back into the living room and handed her a steaming mug.

“Drink it. It’ll make you feel better.”

“What song were you humming?”

“‘Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday.’”

“That was a good choice.”

She leaned her head back on the couch for a second and then sat up with a jerk. “Do you think someone is trying to frame me?”

“I’m sure someone is trying to frame you, but it’s a pretty transparent attempt. Try not to worry.”

“This is really good.” Mae sipped some of the hot liquid. “What’s in here?”

“Hot tea, bourbon and sugar. My grandpa used to make these for me when I got sick. Is it helping?”

She drank more deeply and her body started to relax into the couch. Heavy fatigue washed over her.

“Do you want me to build a fire? You’re still shivering.”

“I had gas logs put in. Could you flip the switch?”

He went over to the fireplace and turned on the fire. Coming came back toward her, he took the mug from her hand.

“Why don’t you rest for a while? I need to go to the lab and follow up on the weapon. Someone will be watching your house around the clock. You’ll be safe, Mae. I promise.”

Mae stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes. Ben’s hand lightly touched her cheek and then she sank into sleep.

When Mae opened her eyes, the sky was dark. Ben was gone and the rain had stopped. Tammy and Patrick were talking in the next room. Mae walked into the kitchen, still wrapped in the blanket. They stood close together, but stepped apart when they saw Mae.

“You two look like a couple of biddy hens, clucking over me. What are you doing here?”

“Ben called before he left and asked me to come over tonight. I decided to call Patrick. Ben said somebody was trying to frame you. He told me there would be an officer in the driveway, but he thought you’d feel safer with me in the house. I decided we’d both feel safer with Patrick here.”

Patrick came over and gave Mae a hug. “We’re here for the duration. You still look wiped out. Tammy and I are going to make some dinner.”

“Yes, why don’t you go take a long, hot bath? We’ll call you when dinner’s ready and Patrick will tell you all about his tournament. He’s dying to tell someone besides me.”

“You go relax for a while,” Patrick said. “The epic story of my triumph can wait.”

Tammy winked at her. “He’s right, Mae-Mae. Go take a long relaxing soak in the tub. We know where everything is. We’ll get some food going.”

Her wet clothes were still on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. She took them into the laundry room and put them in the
washer. Tallulah looked up from her babies, her face more scrunched than usual. Mae rubbed the wrinkly spot in the middle of her forehead while the little pug gazed up at her unblinkingly.

“Don’t worry, little mama. We’re all going to be just fine.”

D
etective Wayne Nichols felt every minute of his fifty-eight years. On this particular morning, his alarm sounded at five a.m. He rolled out of bed and into the shower, where he did most of his best thinking. He hadn’t gone to bed until around two and he knew there were many more long days ahead. When he wasn’t working a case, Nichols would get to the office later in the day, but he pulled out all the stops when working a murder.

As the warm water spilled over his scar-riddled body—from bullets, knives, and dog bites—he mulled over what they knew about the Ruby Mead-Allison case. She was killed late on March fifteenth. Earlier that day, she met with Commissioner Stillwell. According to Dory, she emerged from the meeting with a
triumphant smile on her face. Stillwell was heard talking on the phone to his secretary, saying Ruby was going to be the death of him.

Ruby had arrived at the Bistro at six forty-five in the evening, having missed an appointment with her doctor. She stopped in to see her attorney and presented him with an expensive cigar. They now knew that David Allison had lied to them about being at a dinner meeting. His credit card purchased the meal at the Bistro. The host at the Bistro
identified Allison from a photograph. Ruby was killed approximately five hours later. Did Allison kill her? Did someone else come to her house later on in the evening? Mrs. Ryan thought so; she reported seeing a pick-up truck there at around one in the morning. Lucy Ingram had also mentioned seeing a pickup truck parked in Ruby’s driveway after Allison left.

Apparently, the murder weapon had turned up in Mae December’s barn. Ben’s blind spot about her could be a problem for the investigation. Funny what a murder case brought out in everyone involved. His thoughts bounced back and forth between the past and present as they always did when working murder investigations. He knew all too well how easily he himself could have become a killer, one of the hunted instead of the hunter.

The memory never really left him; he still heard the muffled sobs and angry voices of his foster parents.

“I see the way you look at that goddamn half-breed, you slut!”

A scream and heavy steps from the bedroom to the living room. Then the front door was thrown open, slammed, and the truck door was opened and closed. Pressure built behind his eyes. Was he the half-breed? Some of the kids at school called him “Injun” or “chief.” He never paid much attention to them, but “half-breed” sounded very ugly coming from his foster father’s mouth, almost as ugly as “slut.”

If that man hits her again, I’ll … the thought ended there, like always. He wanted so badly to save her but was afraid. Was he big enough, strong enough to fight the drunken man? If only I had a gun, he thought. But if he did, he knew he’d use it. He needed to get out of there soon, or he’d find a way to stop the man for good.

“Wayne, come here.” Her voice was usually soft and easy to listen to, but at that moment it was high pitched and loaded with pain and fear. He got up and left the bedroom where his little brother lay sleeping. She sat on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands.

He sat down next to her and put his arms around her. She flinched. “Did he hurt you?”

Wordlessly, she pulled down the strap of her nightgown to show the purpling bruises that darkened her white skin. He tore his eyes away from the tops of her breasts. His anger and disgust with his foster father joined with feelings even more disturbing.

“And this, too.” She pulled up her nightgown to show more bruises on her thin, pale legs. A dark triangle of hair showed through the thin fabric of her panties. His mouth felt dry.

“Don’t …” His voice was low and rough as he pulled her nightgown down. Didn’t she know he was almost a man? She looked into his eyes, pulled him close suddenly and kissed him hard, on the mouth. He felt her strong tongue push past his lips. Gasping, he ran away from the room, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Walking back down the hall, he opened the door to his bedroom, taking care not to make any noise. He knelt beside his brother’s bed and shook him by the shoulder.

“Kurt, get up.” Kurt was ten, tall for his age and slender with dark hair and eyes. They had come to this house together from another foster family when Kurt was only three. Neither boy belonged to the foster couple. Kurt wasn’t Wayne’s real brother, but they were as close as two halves of an orange.

“I need you. Come out to the kitchen.”

Kurt sat up and swung his legs over the small bed, placing his toes on the cold floor. He followed his brother down the hallway, a sleepy little boy whose world was about to be ruptured.

“This is important. Don’t make a sound. He’s not in the house, but he’ll be back soon. He’s only sleeping it off out in the truck. I have to go. I have to leave the house.”

Kurt looked up at him and said a small, fierce, “No.”

Wayne hugged the little boy. “When Mom wakes up, give her this.” He handed
him a note. “I don’t want to leave you, but something bad is going to happen if I stay here, something even worse than this.” He gestured out at the truck. “Mom knows I have to leave. She knows why. Don’t go to school today. Don’t get on the bus. Hide in the ditch beside the road. Don’t let the bus driver see you. Go to the Wilshire’s house. Tell them Dad hit Mom again. Ask Mr. Wilshire if he’ll come over. He’s a deputy. He can stop him.”

“Don’t go.” Kurt’s little voice rasped out, then it changed, became hard. “Please.”

Wayne placed his backpack on the table and finished putting some food in it—peanut butter, crackers, apples, a can of tuna fish and a small can opener, along with a thin white blanket. He reached up and lifted a stack of plates, taking down the money hidden under it.

Kurt’s eyes widened. “You can’t take that. That’s Mom’s money.”

“I have to. I’m going to be gone a long time. I’m only taking a little of the money. Don’t wake Mom. Wait until she gets up before you give her the note. Let her sleep as long as she can. If you give her the note too soon, someone might come after me.” He ruffled Kurt’s hair. “Don’t worry, they probably won’t. They’ll be glad to get rid of me.” He hugged the small boy again. “I’m sorry. Someday I’ll come back for you. When you’re older, you can live with me.”

He zipped the backpack shut, put on his jacket and stepped outside into the early summer morning. It was foggy, the kind of mist that lay on the ground in white puddles. He hesitated, looking back through the kitchen window. Kurt peered out at him. His heart clenched. The little boy raised his eyes to his brother and then turned away. Even from beyond the house, Wayne could sense Kurt’s despair. For a moment, he wanted to go back, but he couldn’t. He raised an arm in farewell and let the mist take him.

I
t was a beautiful morning, sunny and cool. Tammy Rogers drove her two-seater convertible into Rosedale and parked behind Birdy’s Salon. Her mother, Grace, owned the historic brick building that housed the salon. Tammy rented one of the storefronts for Local Love and an apartment on the second floor, where she lived with her three cats and countless plants. Other than her cozy apartment, complete with a raised deck overlooking a small courtyard, Grace used the rest of the second story for storage. The other storefronts on the street level housed a coffee shop, a jewelry store and an antique store. Tammy used her building key to let herself in the back door and went up the rickety stairs to her apartment, picking up a bundle of mail on her way.

She unlocked the ornate iron door that the antique dealer downstairs insisted he’d purchased in New Orleans. Though he said he was practically giving the door away at the price she negotiated, he wanted her to have it “for safety’s sake.” Until Ruby’s murder, Tammy had always felt safe in the building where she’d practically grown up, spending time in the salon with her mother and grandmother. Her innate sense of style was strengthened there, and although her mother was skeptical about her living in what she described as “that ratty old attic,” Tammy created a sumptuous nest for herself.

Tammy had painted the door a deep blue and distressed it to look old. She pulled the iron filigree outer door shut and locked it behind her. She dumped her mail and pocketbook onto her tiny kitchen table and fussed over her cats, apologizing for her absence. She filled their large crystal water bowl with fresh water and put dry food into three silver bowls. After filling a Mexican pottery pitcher with water, she stepped out onto her verandah to water her outdoor plants. The sun was warm on the sheltered eastern side of the building and she lingered over the pots, pinching off violets and snapdragons that were now past their prime.

“Tammy,” a deep voice called from down below. She looked over the railing. Ben stood by the gate of the small courtyard. “Is
Local Love closed today?”

Tammy shaded her eyes. “Not for you,
handsome. I’ll be right down. The gate is always locked. No one seems to know where the key is. I’ll meet you at the front door.”

Tammy ran down the stairs, after grabbing her keys and cellphone and locking the door behind her. She entered the office of
Local Love through the service door and turned the bolt to admit Ben. Standing there in his uniform, he looked very official.

“Is everything all right?” Tammy asked, breathless. “Mae?”

“Everything’s fine. Don’t worry. I wanted to thank you for staying there last night, and I have a favor to ask.” He stopped, looking at her a little self-consciously.

“Don’t be shy, honey. You know I’ll help if I can.” Tammy tilted her head and gazed up at him in amusement.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this in the middle of a murder investigation. I wanted to ask you to take me out of your listing for the dating service. I know I paid for another six months, but I don’t think I’m going to need them.”

He looked straight down at his shoes. Tammy didn’t even need to hide her triumphant smile. She couldn’t resist toying with him a little bit.

“Have you been unhappy with my services?” She unsuccessfully suppressed a giggle.

“No, not at all. Don’t tease me. You know it’s because of Mae.”

Tammy reached out her hand and gave him a playful tap on his cheek. “I tease everybody I like, you know. Of course I’ll take you off the list, but you better be good to my friend, or you’ll be on my bad list, Sheriff.”

“Of course. Thanks. I better get back to work.”

They smiled at each other in perfect understanding. He walked away. Mae’s right, thought Tammy. He does have a cute butt.

She locked the door behind him and went back upstairs to curl up on her dark orange velvet couch with her phone. She checked the battery status. It had a full charge. She had already left him multiple messages, if he didn’t call back soon, she’d turn it off.

The cushion under Tammy’s cheek vibrated. She opened her eyes and looked at her phone. There was a notice on the screen indicating that she had three missed calls. Refreshed from her catnap, she smiled. Two of the calls were from Patrick. Tammy broke her own rule and called him back immediately.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Patrick. It’s me.”

“Hi, yourself. How are you this morning?” He sounded normal; breezy and friendly as usual.

Crap. Maybe she had been imagining things last night. The last few times she had seen him he had seemed to be interested in her as more than a friend, but maybe not.

“I missed three calls from you. Did you need something?”

“I did, yeah. Do you think Mae’s all right? She was really quiet last night.”

Tammy suppressed a sigh. Both Noah and Patrick were apparently reserved for Mae. “I think she’s doing fine. She’s finally getting over losing Noah.”

“Is she interested in that Ben guy?”

Was he jealous? “She is. I hope you’re … all right with that.”

She waited for him to say something. “Patrick, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Listen, I need to get going. Stuff to do, you know.”

“Wait. I didn’t mean anything by that. I know you miss Noah.”

“I do. I want Mae to be happy; it’s just hard for me to see her with anyone besides my big brother.”

This conversation wasn’t going at all as she’d hoped. “It’s hard to picture for her
too, but it’s been a long time. I’ll let you go. Bye.”

“Bye, Tammy.”

Someday Patrick would quit worrying about Mae and see what was right in front of him. Maybe.