Rosemary and Crime (12 page)

I gave McBride my best I-told-you-so smirk, which he studiously ignored. “Since Dr. Winters has corroborated my so-called ‘fabrication,’ am I free to leave?”

Rotating the pen in his hand end for end, McBride gave me a long, hard look, then turned to Doug. “One more question, Dr. Winters, if you will. Do you happen to recall what Mrs. Prescott was wearing the night in question?”

Doug’s brow furrowed, then smoothed. “I believe she had on a green T-shirt and jeans.”

I tensed and stopped petting the pup’s shaggy fur. Green T-shirt? No doubt the very same one I’d last seen in a bag marked
EVIDENCE
.

“Do you remember what type of shoes she wore?”

Puzzled, I glanced from one man to the other. What on earth did my shoes have to do with anything?

“Sneakers,” Doug replied, sounding confident. “The flat-soled kind women wear for aerobics. I know because my sister’s into aerobics big-time.”

Setting the pup on the floor, I rose, antsy to get out of the confining room and to draw a breath of fresh air. “Unless you’re charging me, I’m out of here.”

McBride closed the folder and gave me the evil eye. “You’re free to go, but don’t leave town without checking with me first.”

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Doug trailed close behind.

“Cute dog,” Precious commented as we passed her desk. “My auntie had a schnauzer once. He a schnauzer?”

Doug shook his head. “Nope. This little guy’s from a long line of mutts.”

“Well, he’s a cute little mutt,” Precious said, then looked up at me. “He yours?”

I glanced down into the pup’s big brown eyes and felt my heart turn into goo. The little dog gazed back at me with undisguised love and adoration. I wasn’t made of stone. I felt my resistance melt like a snow cone at the state fair. “He’s mine if no one claims him.”

“Congratulations.” Grinning, Doug stuck out his hand. “Consider yourself a pet owner.”

C
HAPTER
13

A
TTEMPTING TO RELAX
after my close encounter of the worst kind, I wriggled deeper into the soft, worn cushions of Reba Mae’s sofa while my newly adopted mutt snoozed alongside. A half-finished bottle of wine and an almost empty pizza box rested on the coffee table.

Reba Mae topped off my wine. “Then what happened?”

“Dr. Winters—Doug—asked me out.”

Reba Mae’s jaw dropped. “No way.”

“Way,” I answered smugly.

“You go, girl.”

“Call it temporary amnesia that made me forget I’d sworn off men. Doug caught me off guard, but I thought to myself, heck, why not.” Kicking off my shoes, I propped my feet on a hassock and wiggled my toes. “We’re just going for Mexican at North of the Border, not the prom. It’s no biggie.”

“It
is
a big deal, sugar. How long has it been since you were on a bona fide date?”

I pulled a face. “Twenty-some years, but who’s counting? After the grilling McBride put me through tonight, Doug’s offer was balm to my wounded spirit. Imagine McBride thinking me capable of murder.”

“That’s his job, hon. He’s paid to be suspicious.”

“Well, his suspicions are wasted on me. He ought to spend his time tracking down the real killer and not harassing innocent citizens. And all because my fingerprints were on the murder weapon.”

“Don’t forget half the town knows about your argument with Barrone.” Reba Mae studied nails painted with a color she called Cat House Carmine. “Like McBride or not, you’ve got to admit he’s got it all over Uncle Joe in the looks department. I bet he could pose for
GQ
if he had half a mind to.”

I sipped my wine. “You’re welcome to him. I’ll take sweet, mild-mannered Dr. Doug, premature gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses, over tall, dark, and dangerous any day of the week.”

“You want the last slice of pizza?”

Reaching down, I scratched the pup behind his ear. “Go ahead, you take it.”

“Better yet, I’ll let the boys fight over it.”

“How’s Clay’s computer class coming along?” I knew Reba Mae’s twins were her pride and joy. I had to hand it to her: she’s done a great job raising them since Butch died. Caleb and Clay were the same age as my Chad. The three had been inseparable before Chad, bent on becoming a doctor, headed off to college in Chapel Hill.

“Okay, I guess, but unlike Chad, Clay has no idea what he wants to be when he grows up. For now he’s content to work construction, take an occasional night class at the technical college, and leave the more serious stuff to others.”

“What about Caleb? He still happy with his job?”

“Dwayne pays him a decent wage as a mechanic at that garage and used-car lot of his.”

“Pre-owned,” I corrected, more from habit than political correctness.

“Whatever. Long as it doesn’t interfere with his bowlin’ league, Caleb’s not gonna complain.”

“You’ve got great boys, Reba Mae. Except for a couple shenanigans, they’ve never given you a moment’s grief.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Once in a blue moon they even take out the garbage without being told. If I could only teach ’em to put the toilet seat down, I’d die a happy woman.”

“Lindsey’s failing language arts,” I blurted.

“I thought she was failin’ math.”

“That, too. According to her language arts teacher, she hasn’t even started a report that counts for nearly half her grade.”

“CJ know about this?”

“No sooner had I told Lindsey she couldn’t go to a concert this weekend when he went right over my head. Said she could write the report on Sunday. That Amber would help her.”

Reba Mae gave an unladylike snort. “Amber Leigh? The only writin’ that girl does is to sign her name to a credit-card receipt.”

That was it in a nutshell. With nothing more to be said about Amber Leigh’s writing skills, we lapsed into a companionable silence. My newly acquired pet lazily opened one eye, then promptly closed it again after making sure I hadn’t gone off and abandoned him.

Reba Mae aimed a thumb at the pup. “Looks like a dog Butch’s cousin had. A wheaten terrier, but it’s kinda small for a Wheaton. So what are you goin’ to do with your new BFF?”

“Unless someone comes forward to claim him, which is unlikely, he’s all mine. Besides, he’ll be good company, what with Lindsey spending the majority of her time at CJ’s.” I reminded myself to speak to CJ regarding the disproportionate amount of time our daughter spent with him. Let him know in no uncertain terms I was unhappy with the present arrangement. That it needed to change. And while I was at it, we needed to establish that when one parent said no, it meant end of discussion.

“A watchdog’s not a bad idea with a killer on the loose.”

Reba Mae’s words struck home and brought me back to the present. With McBride focusing all his attention on me, the real murderer was free to prowl the streets of our peaceful little town. Would there be other victims? I wondered. Or had Mario’s death been an isolated “crime of passion”?

I made a mental note to invest in a security system as soon as my finances were in better shape. For the time being, however, a stouter lock on my rear door would have to suffice. A watchdog would also act as a deterrent. I smiled to myself. The little animal napping peacefully at my feet didn’t look capable of defending itself against fleas, much less a hardened criminal.

“Well, he’s a cute little bugger,” Reba Mae continued, unaware of my worries. “At least you don’t have to worry about him leavin’ the toilet seat up.”

I stared into my half-empty wineglass. “You know, in spite of Doug coming to my rescue in the nick of time, I still don’t feel like I’m off the hook.”

Reba Mae took oversized gold hoops out of her ears and placed them on the coffee table. “What do you mean?”

“McBride told me the medical examiner puts the time of death between ten and midnight. Technically speaking, I could still have killed Mario, then rushed the dog to the vet’s.”

Reba Mae stretched her long legs. “Okay,” she drawled, “but why would you stab a helpless little animal in the first place?”

Leave it to Reba Mae to find the hole in my logic.

“I wouldn’t, of course. Being a ‘person of interest’ is making me crazy.” Frustrated, I ran a hand through my hair, mussing my already messy red curls. “I haven’t a clue what goes on inside McBride’s head. Maybe he thinks I stabbed the dog to keep him quiet, then in a fit of remorse rushed him to the vet’s to save his life. The man’s so intent on me being the guilty party, he’s not even looking for any other suspects.”

Reba Mae gave me a hard stare. “What are you gettin’ at?”

I blew out a breath. “I’m worried that since McBride is a stranger in Brandywine Creek, he might not ask the right people the right questions. As the newly appointed chief of police, he must feel compelled to wrap this case up quick. He needs to look good in front of Mayor Hemmings and the town council.”

“I’m not sure where you’re headin’ with this, honeybun. Care to enlighten me?”

An idea, although vague, was starting to form in the recesses of my brain. “I think he needs help is all,” I confessed.

“Help?” she asked. “What kind of help?”

I looked her in the eye. “Our kind.”

“Girl, what on earth are you talkin’ about?”

Reba Mae’s voice had crept up loud enough to wake the pup. He raised his head and cocked one ear. Reaching down, I patted him and he immediately settled down again.

“Between the two of us, we know most everyone there is to know in these parts. You hear all sorts of gossip at the Klassy Kut. Maybe we need to keep our ears open. Check out a few folks.”

“Like who?”

I could tell from her expression she was skeptical—skeptical but curious—so I forged ahead. “We could start with Tony Deltorro. Gina said he and Mario went way back. Said they had ‘big plans’ once upon a time. At Mario’s funeral, Tony didn’t make any bones to hide his dislike.”

“In case you haven’t figured this out, sugar, watchin’ cop shows on TV doesn’t make us detectives.”

“You’re right, but…,” I said, warming to the idea, “McBride gave me a tutorial on how to catch a killer. All we have to do is find someone with motive, means, and opportunity. Other than me, that is.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

I nodded grimly. “How hard can it be for two reasonably intelligent women to find the solution to a real-life whodunit?”

Reba Mae appeared to give the matter some thought, then broke into a wide grin. “What are friends for?”

We high-fived.

C
HAPTER
14

M
OST SMALL TOWNS
in the South are homes to either a Mexican or a Chinese restaurant. At least that’s the way it seems to me. Brandywine Creek is fortunate enough to have one of each. CJ, being strictly a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy, didn’t care for either. He was more a prime rib at the country club sort. When he was out of town, however, I’d take the kids to either North of the Border or Ming Wah. Somehow I felt it was my duty to educate their palates as well as their minds. As a result, Lindsey developed a fondness for Moo Goo Gai Pan while Chad loved nothing better than to chow down on a beef and bean burrito. CJ complained his children had been unduly influenced by a Yankee.

I glanced at my watch, then made a final entry into the computer. Sadly, none of my stock needed to be reordered. Business had slowed to a trickle and, if it didn’t pick up soon, I didn’t know what I’d do. To borrow from CJ’s poker glossary, I was “all in”—every red cent. If I didn’t win this hand, I’d go bust. Mostly though, I didn’t want to give CJ the satisfaction of saying, “I told you so.” I couldn’t keep from believing that being a suspect in a murder investigation was having a negative effect on business. Seemed like folks I’d known all my married life had started avoiding me. This gave me even more incentive to do a little snooping around. But that would have to wait. Tonight I had other plans.

Doug said he’d be by a little after six o’clock to pick me up. With North of the Border just around the corner, we agreed he’d leave his car here and, since the weather was so nice, we’d walk the short distance. I had to admit I was more than just a tad nervous. Dating was for youngsters Lindsey’s age, kids in high school, not women who’d been married twenty-plus years. I tried to convince myself this wasn’t really a “date.” Just two people getting better acquainted over dinner. No different than Reba Mae and I sharing a pizza. Yeah, right! I’d picked up the phone at least a half dozen times to cancel our
un
date, then changed my mind. I’d never been a coward. Didn’t intend to start now.

I powered down the computer and pulled my compact out of my purse. Flipping it open, I checked my reflection and reapplied lipstick. Ever since he’d invited me for Mexican, I’d debated what to wear. In the end, I’d settled on black chinos with tapered legs and a tailored yellow blouse. A chunky necklace I’d purchased years ago on a trip to Cancún completed my attempt at casual chic. I was as ready as I was going to get.

Doug tapped on the front window and, with butterflies flitting in my stomach, I hurried to let him in. “My, don’t you look pretty,” he said, giving me a once-over, his voice warm with approval.

“Thanks,” I replied, feeling a telltale blush creep into my cheeks. I’d nearly forgotten how good it felt to be on the receiving end of a man’s full attention. “It’ll only take a minute to lock up.”

“Brought you something,” he said, holding out a heavy paper sack.

I peeked inside and smiled. Doggy chews and a book titled
How to Train a Puppy.
“No one can ever say you’re not a smooth operator.”

Now it was Doug’s turn to look all shy and boyish. And charming and cute as all get-out. “I thought about flowers, or candy, but didn’t want to scare you off so I brought these instead.”

Minutes later, we strolled down Main Street. A soft breeze wafted through the willow oaks in the town square. Boys on bikes whizzed past as we turned onto Washington Avenue. I felt self-conscious, jittery, knowing people would report seeing us together and speculate on our relationship, but Doug seemed oblivious to the fact we’d be fodder for gossip. He kept the conversation light, and by the time we reached the restaurant, I’d begun to relax.