Otter Under Fire (9 page)

A similar idea occurred to many of the guests, as they lined up along the pool to get shots of Duke posing as some kind of canine Mayan god.

“Maybe you could hire him out for parties,” Tempest suggested.

“I thought about it,” Susan said, taking another shot, “but his juggling’s a little rusty.”

Later, Otter stood on the patio and leaned on the banister talking with Joel. He was tall and athletically built--both attributes that she appreciated. He wasn’t what you would call handsome, but interesting she decided, with his dark brown hair and grey eyes. Someone had broken his nose at one time and there was a very small scar by one eye. She guessed him to be a couple of years older than her—mid to late thirties maybe. She definitely wanted to learn more about him.

Instead she was telling him about her suspected murders.

“So he had gone shooting with someone?” Joel asked.

“According to his appointment book, he had plans to meet someone at the shooting range.”

“Then a few hours later, he shoots himself in the head?”

“That’s what I hear. It’s the official version anyway.”

“So why don’t you think he killed himself?”

“Because he was an arrogant, self-satisfied jerk, and he had plans, lots of plans. Some of them were not very nice plans I’ll admit.”

“So what convinced you to bring everything to Susan?”

“I read that the guy Clark went to visit in Michigan committed suicide. The people he knew couldn’t believe that this Marvin Jones had killed himself either. It was totally out of character just like Clark’s death. That had me wondering if there might be some kind of connection.”

“It could be a coincidence.”

“I don’t think that’s likely, and why do I feel like I’m being interrogated?”

“Sorry,” Joel laughed. “I’m finding this interesting. I find you interesting. You and Tempest have quite a place here.”

“Thank you. We worked hard at it, and it suits our lives right now. We have it engineered so that if we move, we can make it back into two duplexes or sell it as a family home or another roommate situation, whichever it needs to be.”

“Clever,”

“My burning question of the night is, can you dance?” Otter asked. “I’d like to have someone to dance with.” She had been watching him all evening and loved the way he moved.

“Hmm, I can do a passable two step and a few other basic steps.”

“The living room looks empty if you want to do a couple of whirls around the floor.”

“Might be fun,” Joel said as he gestured for her to go ahead of him.

The furniture had been pushed against the walls to open up a makeshift dance floor. They twirled around the room for the duration of two songs and then stopped for something to drink

“OK, I’m a little rusty,” he said.

Spooky waddled over to beg half-heartedly. He had to be nearly stuffed.

“Well, if you’d like to practice dancing, it would be something we could do together.” Otter said hopefully smiling up at him. He had a natural grace; he could learn the steps easily.

“I would like that, and I really like your cats,” Joel said, bending down to scratch Spooky behind the ears. “They are real characters.”

“Let me show you something.” Otter said, leading him into the living room. “The cats really love parties. Spooky likes the food, but the girls like to screw with the drunks.”

“There is no way they know that people are drunk.”

“Says you,” Otter said, pointing to one of the cat shelves about six feet off the floor. “I’ll bet you right now that if you walk under there, Stella won’t mess with you.”

Looking at her like she was crazy, Joel walked by the shelf. He peered up on top of it. “Ok, you’re right, she’s crouched there, but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t just keeping herself out of the way.”

“Just come over here and stand a minute, they have to come this way to the bathroom.” Otter said.

One of Tempest’s clients named Sophie came in, weaving slightly as she walked under the shelf. A stealth paw came out and tapped her on the back of the head and disappeared.

“What the hell,” Sophie slurred as she turned to see what had hit her.

“If you’re looking for the bathroom, it’s just over there,” Otter directed.

“Thanks,” Sophie said and looked back at the wall one more time. As she made her way into Tempest’s wing toward the bathroom, a grey paw whipped out from behind a chair, smacked her ankle several times and disappeared again.

“Mouse,” Otter said as Sophie looked around the floor. Joel chuckled in appreciation.

Tempest burst into the kitchen for an iced drink. “Ah, there you are, are you having a good time?” She strolled up to Joel, “I’m Tempest.”

“Yes, you are,” Joel said shaking her hand. “I’m Joel.”

“Nice to meet you,” she flashed one of her famous megawatt smiles at him, grabbed a drink and went back outside.

“She is quite beautiful,” Joel said, watching her go. “But I bet she’s a real hand full.”

“She is both,” Otter agreed, “and the best friend ever.”

“And you look like you are about as opposite as two people can be.”

“That is probably true.”

“Good,” Joel said with some relief, “I’ve navigated a few hurricanes in my time and although they can be exciting, they can also be devastating.”

“That would be an excellent assessment.”

Just then the diet cola deliveryman strolled in, whistling. Otter liked him, he was funny and personable. He came to their parties quite often and usually ended up running the grill with a circle of people around him laughing at his jokes. A catered party didn’t allow him to grill; Otter wondered what he would do to occupy himself. He chatted with them a moment and then went back outside.

“Looks like the majority of the party is going to be in the back yard tonight,” Otter observed.

“We could go out and mingle if you like,” Joel said, “but I’m feeling a little selfish and don’t really want to share you right now.”

He certainly knew the right things to say, Otter thought, but the evening passed pleasantly enough. They sat on the couch with Spooky and talked for a while, then went out and socialized with the guests. At the end of the evening, Joel told Otter he wanted to see her again and they parted with an agreement to go out later that week.

Tempest had disappeared an hour before the last guest left. The catering company had cleaned up the food and the dining room. Otter locked up the house and went to bed. They could straighten up in the morning.

Saturday morning dawned bright, as most mornings do in Phoenix. To her surprise, Otter slept past 8am—which was very unusual for her. In her robe, she padded out to the kitchen and found that the house had been straightened up and all signs of the party had disappeared.

Except for the soda fountain guy, he was sitting at the dining room table and he looked quite pale.

“Are you all right?” Otter asked him with concern. He seemed to be trembling too.

“Is she always like that?” He asked in a shaky breath.

“Who? What?”

He waved toward Tempest’s side of the house and everything began to fall into place.

“So you stayed over?” Otter hazarded a guess.

“OMG,” he said and he shut his eyes.

Otter poured him a glass of orange juice and put together a breakfast sandwich for him. Tempest must have worked out her frustrations in the wee hours of the morning, she speculated. The release made her so happy and energetic, she cleaned the whole house. She also must have fed the cats so they didn’t wake her up at the customary time.

“Where is she now?” She asked him. Once he got some food into him, he seemed to get some of his color back.

“Don’t know,” he whispered. “She left.”

“I see.” She wondered what she should do with him, but she needn’t have worried. After he ate his breakfast, he got shakily to his feet and slowly made his way out the front door.

Good thing, because she had an appointment in a little over an hour. Mitch had come into her office the afternoon before with a box and requested that she take Clark’s personal items to his widow. Mitch had offered to take them himself, but she had requested Otter if it was possible.

Otter didn’t know Clark’s wife all that well. They had met at company parties and once in a while they had exchanged pleasantries when Tonya had come to pick Clark up at AzTech. She had no idea why the woman wanted to talk to her. Remembering her conversation with Brad in welding earlier that week, Otter had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a pleasant chat.

Oh well, Otter thought, she may as well get it over with. She put on a lacey pink V-neck; dark wash jeans and low heeled boots of cranberry suede. She also wore a tailored jacquard jacket of denim blue, cream and burgundy because the mornings were starting to get a little chilly.

“I really love your jacket,” Tonya McCartney said when she opened the door. “It looks like a tailored tapestry.”

“Thank you,” Otter said and then carried the box of Clark’s belongings into the house. “Where do you want me to set this?”

“The coffee table is fine,” Tonya said, gesturing toward the couch. “Thank you for bringing Clarks things for me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“If you wouldn’t mind taking a moment,” Tonya said nervously, “I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask you.”

“Sure,” Otter felt like an Amazon. She was head and shoulders taller than this chubby little woman in a house dress. She pictured Tonya and Clark together and figured they looked like a novelty salt and pepper shaker set when they had stood side by side. Tonya waved Otter toward a chair and sat on the couch.

“I’ve heard a rumor that you might have been the last person to speak to my husband.” Tonya started in a trembling voice. “Please, if you could tell me what he said the last time you saw him.”

“You didn’t see him after he left work that night?” Otter asked sharply, “He said he was going home.”

Tonya looked down into her lap. “Well we were having problems and he moved out of the house. I hadn’t seen him for several days.”

“I see.”

“We were working it out,” she said defensively, “it’s just that he and I didn’t see eye to eye on things and I had some problems with the path that he had chosen to take.”

“You knew about the blackmail list then?” Otter said casually. The flicker in Tonya’s eyes told her the truth. “You did know.”

“It wasn’t a blackmail list.” Tonya said defensively, “Clark kept it to help people; he called it the Sword of Christ project. He saw himself as a savior that would separate some people from the bad things they did.”

“And forcing people to do things against their will was helping them in what way?”

“I said we didn’t agree on this,” Tonya murmured. “I didn’t understand why it was so important to him to meddle in the lives of other people.”

“Maybe because he enjoyed the power it gave him,” Otter suggested. “He could have his own little fiefdom among his circle of acquaintances and he could dictate their lives according to his little plan.”

Tonya shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was such a good man.”

“He hurt people, Tonya.” Otter said gently, “And I got the impression that he wanted to tell me something when he came to my office that day. I’ve been wondering what it might be.”

Tonya just shook her head.

“So after I found the list, it got me thinking. Why wasn’t I on it? He pushed hard for me to be in charge of the shop. It wouldn’t have made any sense if he didn’t think he could manipulate me in some way.”

“No, don’t think that Mackenzie! Clark liked working with you. He knew that you would be great in that position and in his mind you would be the best candidate once Ron Defray was taken out of the way.”

“So I wondered if what he wanted to talk about is what he thought he had on me. He would have been gravely disappointed. Even if he thought he had something, I wouldn’t have stood for it. I’d have taken him to Mitch immediately.”

“Oh Clark knew that about you, Mackenzie,” Tonya said, “He respected how much you could have done to his project.”

“He had four pages on Annie.” Otter continued.

To Otter’s surprise, Tonya burst out laughing.

“He was so frustrated with her,” she said, still giggling. “When he showed her what he had, she was so proud she asked for copies. She wanted to show her family.”

“Sounds like Annie,” Otter chuckled.

“She started to tell people about her pages, so he told her that it was a gift and to not tell too many people or everyone would want one.”

“And she was OK with that?”

“She stopped talking about it, and that’s all he wanted at that point.” Tonya said. “I don’t know what she thought about the whole thing.”

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t put a stop to it?”

“Because I didn’t know the extent of what he was doing—I didn’t,” she said seeing Otter’s skeptical look. “He knew I disapproved, so he didn’t talk about it a lot with me.”