Two Tall Tails (9 page)

“Mr. Harris, how do you know what's in your neighbor's garage?” the policeman asked Tom.

“Because I looked. Because he tried to kill my dog.” He gestured at Jason. “Because he tried to kill Angie. He's after her money.”

I caught Tom's arm. He'd said too much.

Jason turned to the police officer. “Like I said, this is my aunt's house. I don't want to make trouble, but I don't feel right about people being on her property without permission.” He turned and pointed to the strip of lawn between the two driveways. Several four-by-four cedar posts were stacked on the grass. “I'm about to start on a fence to give my aunt a little more privacy.”

I tightened my grip on Tom's arm but the older man didn't speak. He just continued to glare at Jason and shake his head.

“Mr. Harris, I understand you're upset about your dog,” Officer Sullivan said. “I get that. I have two dogs myself. They get sick and it's almost like your kid getting sick.”

He'd fallen for Jason's act.

“My two, they get into everything. I have to lock up the trash cans because otherwise they're rooting around in the garbage.”

“Matilda doesn't eat garbage,” Tom said through clenched teeth.

“Good for her,” the officer said. “But my point is you don't know what your dog could've eaten that made her sick. You'll probably never know. But you can't go trespassing on someone else's property.” He indicated Jason. “Mr. Bates here is a reasonable man so we're just going to forget about everything—
this time
. But I want your promise that you'll stay off his property.”

Tom nodded slowly. His eyes never left Jason's face. “I promise you, Officer, I will stay off Mr. Bates's property.”

I noticed his choice of words.
Mr. Bates's property
. The policeman didn't seem to catch the distinction.

He turned to Jason. “Thank you for your patience, Mr. Bates,” he said.

Jason smiled. “No problem,” he said with a shrug.

The officer wished us a good evening and got back in his cruiser. Jason started back to the house and then turned and looked over his shoulder at us. Once again there was a cocky smile on his face.

“I'd like to wipe that smirk of that little piker's face,” Tom said. He was still clenching his teeth and his shoulders were rigid.

“Please don't do anything he can use against you,” I said.

Tom finally turned his attention to me. “Why didn't you tell me about the ball?”

I let go of his arm. “I'm sorry. I should have. I was waiting to be sure that what was on the ball was what had made Matilda sick.”

“It was him, Sarah,” he said. “I know it was.”

I nodded. There was no use pretending I hadn't been thinking the same thing. “Wait for the results of the blood tests.”

“He's going to get rid of that bottle.”

“If you get arrested for trespassing, no one is going to believe you,” I pointed out. “They're going to dismiss you as a crazy old man. Please just stay off Angie's property until I can figure out what to do.”

Tom's mouth moved but he stayed silent.

“Please,” I begged.

Finally the old man nodded.

I made my way back to my own house. Mr. P.—Alfred Peterson, Rose's gentleman friend—was at the front door wearing Rose's flowered apron over his brown trousers and long-sleeved navy golf shirt.

“I was coming to get you and I saw the police car go by,” he said, smoothing down the few tufts of gray hair he had left with one hand. “Is everything all right?”

I sighed. “For now.”

He patted my arm. “Rosie told me what's been going on. Young Mr. Bates doesn't sound like a stellar member of society.”

I rolled my eyes. “That's because he isn't.”

“Come have supper,” Mr. P. urged. “I made shepherd's pie.”

“Is that what smells so good?” I asked. Elvis had already disappeared into Rose's apartment.

“Not to be immodest, but it is one of my best recipes,” Mr. P. said with a smile.

I followed him into the apartment.

Rose was setting the table. Elvis was sitting in the doorway to the living room washing his face. “Is Tom all right?” she asked.

I nodded. Rose gestured at a chair and I took a seat while Mr. P. bustled around getting me a cup of tea. Everything Rose and her cronies did was done with copious cups of tea. I brought the two of them up to date on the police officer's visit.

“We have to do something.” Rose set the salt and pepper shakers on the table with a bang.

“Angie should be home in a day or two,” I said.

“I'm not convinced that's going to make any difference.” I knew that determined glint in Rose's gaze meant trouble.

Mr. P. set a cup of tea on the table in front of me. “Thank you,” I said.

He smiled. “You're welcome, my dear.”

I took a sip from the cup and then turned my attention to Mr. P. “You said Rose has told you what's been going on. What do you think?”

“I think that blood is thicker than water, Sarah,” he said. “Angelica Bates is a very nice person, but that young man is family, and if she has to take sides, I think that's the one she'll take. Wouldn't you?”

I glanced at Rose over by the sink. She and Alfred and the rest of their merry band were family as far as I was concerned, and when push came to shove, I always took their side.

“We'll come up with something,” Mr. P. said, his voice warm and reassuring. “We always do.”

Rose had moved to peek into the oven. “Alf, I think this is ready,” she said. She reached for the oven mitts. One of them slipped off the counter and skidded across the floor.

Before I could get up, Elvis had moved across the floor and picked up the quilted mitt in his mouth. He made his way over to Rose.

“Thank you, Elvis,” she said, bending down to take the oven mitt from him. Then she looked at Mr. P. and smiled.

I turned to him as well, narrowing my gaze. “Did you have anything to do with that?” I asked.

“Elvis is a very smart cat,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Merow,” the subject of the conversation added.

“You taught him to pick things up,” I said.

Mr. P. nodded. “It took very little effort on my part. He's extremely intelligent.”

I looked over at the cat, who looked rather pleased with himself, it seemed to me.

“Being a cat, he only does it when he feels like it, of course.”

“Of course,” I echoed.

Mr. P. got to his feet. “Are we ready to eat, Rosie?” he said.

Rose had been staring at the cat, a pensive expression on her face. She started and shook her head. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I was wool-gathering. Yes, we're ready to eat.”

Mr. P.'s shepherd's pie, made with a sweet potato topping and a spicy ground beef base, was delicious. As much as I enjoyed the company, I couldn't help yawning as I sat with a cup of tea and a dish of Rose's leftover bread pudding.

She came up behind me and put her arms around my neck. “Go home, darling girl,” she said. “It's been a long day.”

“I'll just load the dishwasher before I go,” I said.

“You'll do nothing of the sort,” Mr. P. said. He got to his feet and hiked the waistband of his pants up a little higher than it already was. “That's my job.”

I knew better than to argue. Rose sent me home with a dish of fruit salad and another of the pudding. I was putting the food in the fridge when my phone rang. It was Nick.

“Hi,” he said when I answered. “I'm just checking in to see how your wrist feels.”

“Let me guess,” I said, dropping onto the couch. “You talked to your mom and she thought I looked tired.”

Nick laughed. “Busted.”

“I'm fine,” I said. “Between your mother, Liz and Rose, it's not like I'm doing anything.”

“Good,” he said. “I think Mom still has that hammock in her garage. When I get back, I'm going to hang it in your backyard and you can go out there and just do nothing.”

“Because I'm so good at that,” I teased.

“Does Tom Harris still have that little dog?” Nick asked. “She could pull a wagon and bring you coffee and muffins from McNamara's.”

I thought about the small corgi seizing on Tom's lawn.

The silence went on a bit too long. “Did I say something wrong?” Nick said.

“No.” I leaned against the sofa pillows. “It's just that Matilda—that's the dog's name—had a seizure a couple of days ago. She ingested some kind of insecticide.”

He exhaled loudly. “I'm sorry. People don't seem to remember how dangerous that stuff can be.”

“No, they don't,” I agreed. “But the good news is Matilda is okay.”

There wasn't anything Nick could do. I had to figure out some way to deal with Jason Bates myself. Right now, I just wanted to think about something else.

“So how's the class going?”

“Good, “Nick said. “We've done a couple of mock crime scenes. I got to play a guy with an ax stuck in his head.”

“Are there photos?” I asked. “Because it's not too early to plan my Christmas card.”

“Very funny,” he said dryly.

We talked for a few more minutes and then said good night.

Leftover bread pudding and coffee would make a fine breakfast, I decided the next morning. The sun was shining, and I pulled on a T-shirt and leggings and took my mug and bowl out onto the veranda.

Jason was out bright and early working on the fence. It struck me that he was trying to goad Tom into doing something.

And just after ten thirty, it worked.

Tom came out of the house and made his way over to the younger man, putting himself between Jason and the hole he was digging in the strip of lawn. I took a deep breath and began to make my way to them. If the police were called again, Tom could end up being arrested.

“I know you took it,” I heard Tom say.

“Why the hell would I want some old watch?” Jason asked, wiping a dirty hand on the front of his jeans.

“You want it for the same reason you're here pretending to care about Angie,” Tom retorted. “Money. You think I don't know it was you? You were too lazy to take off your shoes so you tracked dirt and sawdust into my kitchen.”

“What's going on?” I asked as I reached the two men.

“He took my watch,” Tom said. “My father's railway watch. I went to the store this morning, and I guess I forgot to lock the back door. When I got back, I noticed some dirt and bits of sawdust on the kitchen floor. The watch was in my dresser upstairs. It was gone.” He turned back to Jason. “Give it back to me, or I'll make you wish you had.”

“You're crazy, old man,” Jason said.

Tom swung at him, but Jason had the advantage of youth. He sidestepped the punch, raised his arm and knocked Tom into the driveway.

I stepped in front of Jason. “Stop it!” I said, anger sharpening my voice. My heart was pounding in my chest. I bent down to Tom, keeping my eyes locked on Jason's face.

“He swung at me first,” Jason snapped, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. “I'm allowed to defend myself.” He punched 911 into the phone and gave Tom a mean-spirited smile. “You're going to jail, old man.”

Rose must have heard the commotion. She joined us, a look of determination on her face that any of her former students would have realized meant trouble was ahead.

Tom had dirt on the knees of his pants and he'd scraped the skin on his left hand. We helped him to his feet. “You useless diddy,” he shouted at the younger man.

I held on to Tom with both hands. “Don't,” I said softly.

Jason gave us an arrogant smile. “Want to take me on, old man?” he asked. He turned his head to one side so the curve of his jaw was facing them. “C'mon, give it your best shot.” He made a come-here gesture with one hand.

Rose reached out and slapped Jason's hand away. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Are you going to knock me down?” she asked. “That might be a little harder to explain to the police.”

Jason muttered something I didn't catch under his breath, but I could already hear the police siren getting closer. I was betting he wouldn't try anything now.

When the cruiser pulled up, it was the same police officer as the previous day. I saw the arrogant smile return to Jason Bates's face when he realized that.

Tom repeated his accusation. Once again Jason was pleasant and agreeable, explaining how Tom had taken a swing at him. “Hey, you're welcome to take a look around my aunt's house,” he said. “I don't have the watch.”

I wanted to swat the smirk off his face.

“Look in the garage,” Tom said to the officer. “That's where he hid Molly's ball. It's probably where he's hiding my watch.”

Rose had been studying the policeman's face; now she smiled sweetly up at him. “How are you, Charles?” she asked.

“I'm fine, Mrs. Jackson,” the burly young man replied, returning her smile.

Rose turned to me. “Charles was one of my best students.”

The officer shifted from one foot to the other, a little uncomfortable at the praise, it seemed to me. “I don't know about that, Mrs. Jackson,” he said.

“Nonsense.” Rose waved away his words with one hand. “You were a silver medalist in the State Math and Science Challenge.”

“And you were a great teacher.”

Rose beamed at him. “Charles, could you take a look in the garage?” Her gaze flicked to Jason for a moment. “Maybe that would calm everyone down.” She held up her cell phone. “I have Angie Bates's number. I'm sure if we called her, she'd say yes.”

Jason looked at the policeman. “I'm not hiding anything in the garage.” There was an edge of exasperation to his voice. He threw up his hands. “Look, if it will put an end to this, yeah, go take a look.” His eyes darted to Tom. “You're not going to find anything.”