Unbinding Love: An Angela Panther Mystery Novella (The Angela Panther Mystery Series) (7 page)

He shook his head. “Other than that. They mean something to Emma. To me. I’m close. I can almost remember.” He made that funny constipated look again.

Ma hovered close to him and cheered him on. “Come on, Bill, you can do it. Just think.”

“Ma, he could probably think better if you’d give him some breathing room.”

She flipped toward me. “He’s dead, remember? He don’t need no room to breathe.”

Score another point for my mother.

Bill paced again for what felt like a year, but was exactly two minutes. I knew because I checked the clock on the cable box five times. I sat on the couch, emotionally and physically drained, and wondered if it would be inappropriate to get a bowl of ice cream while he concentrated. When I decided it wouldn’t, Bill’s energy lit up and shone bright blue, with little sparks flying off him.

“Oh, now that’s impressive,” Ma said. “I wanna sparkle like that.”

I jumped from the couch. “You remembered?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

Ma and I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, Ma said, “Well, tell us, for cryin’ out loud.”

“It’s the day our dog died. October twenty-fifth.”

Ma moaned. “That’s it? Well ain’t that a real letdown?”

I didn’t understand. “They day your dog died? What would be the importance of that?” I realized that sounded harsh, but it wasn’t intentional. I know when our girl Gracie crosses the Rainbow Bridge I’ll be beyond devastated, so I swallowed my snotty attitude and showed some compassion.

“I mean, that’s a sad day and all, but why write the number down and stick it in the false bottom of a trunk? Could it have any other significant meaning?”

“When did the dog kick the bucket?” Ma asked. “Before or after you?”

Clearly I got my compassionate side from my father.

“After.”

              “And you know the date?”

He nodded. “I loved that dog.”

I returned the nod. “I can understand that, but what could it mean in relation to the money?”

“Why don’t we ask the dog?” Ma asked.

“Really?”

“You gotta get better at this talkin’ to spirits stuff, you ask me.”

“Good grief.” I glanced back at Bill. “Think about it. What’s the missing link?” When Bill didn’t answer, I continued. “What kind of dog was it?”

“Golden Retriever. He was a great dog. Even I cried when he died. I was with them when they buried him. I wanted to comfort my son, but he couldn’t feel me. Broke my heart to see him crying like that.”

“Where’d they bury the dog?” Ma asked.

“In the woods behind their house.”

I locked eyes with my mother. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” 

“We gotta dig up that dog,” she said.

“Ew, no. That’s not what I was thinking.”

“Well, whadda ya mean then?”

I had no intention of digging up their family dog, but the date had to mean something, and the best place to start was where he was buried. “I mean we need to pay our respects to the dog.” I ran a hand through my hair, knowing Aaron would flip if he knew I went back to Emma’s house, but what was I supposed to do? “Let’s do this.”

***

The next morning I scattered yard tools around the back of the garage searching for the small shovels I knew we had, but couldn’t find, even though Mel and I had just cleaned out and organized the darn garage. And not because I planned to dig up a dead dog, because ew, but because…well, heck…because I planned to probably dig up a dead dog. “Where the heck are they?” I complained loudly, but only to myself. “Where did Mel put the shovels?” Blaming Mel was the easiest way to pass the buck.

I kicked up a fuss and responded to myself. “Well, Ang, ease up on the poor gal, will ya? You only asked her to help you clean up to pass the time. It’s not like she really did much anyway, and, really, neither did you, so you’re to blame as much as she is. And anyway, this is technically outside work. And the outside work—since it’s outside of the house—is Jake’s, so it’s really his fault, not Mel’s. Get on him about it, not her.” I crouched down and pulled a shovel out from under the bottom shelf of paint cans. “Finally.”

“You’re doing it again.”

Startled by the sound of Jake’s voice, I stood quickly and bumped my head on a stack of two by fours sticking out from another level of shelves. “Son of a beach ball.”

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for the shovels. When’re you planning to clean the garage? You promised to do it last summer.”

He rubbed the top of my head and kissed it. “Didn’t you and Mel just do it?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“What’s the shovel for?”

My eyes involuntarily shifted left and he let out a heavy breath. “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

I leaned the shovel against the garage wall near the door and walked back into the kitchen. Jake followed. “We’re not digging up any graves. It’s just in case we need to dig up the money.”

“The money?”

I hadn’t told Jake the whole story, so I gave him more of the details.

“Does Aaron know what you’re doing?”

My eyes betrayed me again, and I hated them for it.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. This is dangerous. You almost got killed the last time you went out on your own. You’re not doing this again.” I was pretty sure his brain was bubbling to a boil because his face was the color of the extra ripe tomatoes my mother used to use in her pasta gravy.

“Ma, Mel, and Bill will be with me. If anything happens, they’ll take care of me.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

I dipped my head into a partial nod. “Yes?”

He didn’t so much as pace the length of the kitchen, he more like zoomed. Back and forth he went, zinging expletives about my gift and my lack of fear and my inability to know when to quit. I kept my mouth shut, a feat in and of itself for an Italian woman for sure, and for me nearly a miracle, and waited until he settled down. When he did, he dropped into a chair at the counter and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s always gonna be like this, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.”

“I’m proud of you but I worry about you.”

“I know but I’ll be careful.”

“I’m getting you a gun and teaching you how to use it.”

I laughed. “I can’t shoot a ghost.”

“It’s not for the ghosts.”

And that’s when I realized his fear was real. “Okay.”

He came over to me and wrapped his arms around me, nuzzling my neck with his scruffy face. “If anyone tries to hurt you, you beat the living daylights out of them with that shovel, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Thirty minutes later I was at Mel’s house, beeping my horn in her driveway. A few seconds later she limped out her front door and hobbled to my car.

“Mangled Mel, ready for service,” she said. She peeked into the backseat. “Uh, why are there a shovel and a rake in the back?

“Why do you think?”

Her eyes shot open. “Oh, heck no. I am not diggin’ up any dead people.” She grabbed the door handle. “No thank you.”

I clicked the electric lock. “Chill out, Daniel-san, we’re not digging up any dead people. Only a dog.”

Her already China doll-white face paled more. “Nope. No dead animals either.” She shook her head repeatedly. “I don’t do dead.”

There were so many ways I could go with that comment, but I didn’t. “I’m kidding,” I said, patting my best friend on the knee. “We’re not digging up anything dead. They’re just in case we need to dig around the area. Bill thinks the code is actually the date their dog died and the dog’s buried in the backyard so he thinks it’s the clue.”

She leaned back in the seat. “So we’re for sure not digging up the dog, right?”

I held up my pinky. “Pinky promise.”

She tilted her head toward me. “I’m not five.”

“Sometimes you act like it.”

“Bite me.”

“And my point made.”

“Are we alone?”

“Oddly, yes, but I’m sure they’ll be with us soon.”

“Good. Tell me if anyone shows up, okay?”

I narrowed a brow her direction. “Okay. Why? What’s up?”

She pulled a notepad from her purse. “Did some research last night. Bill, er uh, Dan was associated with some pretty bad dudes. Allegedly, of course, but you know what that means.”

“Yes, it means innocent until proven guilty, and we already knew that anyway.”

It was her eyebrow that narrowed that time. “Maybe to someone who doesn’t live in the world of cops but for someone like me, it’s the other way around.”

“You did not just seriously say that to me,” I said.

“What?”

“You’re just dating a cop and he’s a cop I introduced you to, remember? I work with cops.”

“You don’t get paid so really what you do is more like volunteer.”

I noticed my knuckles had turned a pasty white from gripping the steering wheel. “I do not volunteer. I am a special consultant who works in an undercover capacity at no charge.”

“You say tomato…”

“Oh my—“

My mother cut me off and Mel was lucky she had because it was the first time in a long time she’d get a verbal Italian butt whooping from her best friend. Trust me, it was deserved. A volunteer.
As if
.

“We goin’ for the clue now?” Ma asked.

I gave Mel the stink eye. “Ma’s here. Consider yourself saved.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Mel said, the laugh in her voice clear.

“Whatever.”

“You wearing your butt on your shoulders today, Ang?” Ma asked.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“She’s asking you what’s wrong, isn’t she?” Mel asked.

“Drop it, Mel,” I said.

“You sure sound cranky,” Ma said.

“I said I’m fine, Ma.”

“She’s cranky ‘cause I told her she’s a volunteer for the police,” Mel said.

“Oh boy. That ain’t gonna turn out good for Mel,” Ma said.

“No, it isn’t,” I said.

“What’d she say?” Mel asked.

“She said you’re headed for a serious Italian whoop ass.”

She hit the electric window button and took a gulp of fresh air.

Ma chuckled, but I didn’t find it funny. Jake’s fears had become my own, and Mel’s comment rubbed me the wrong way. I was cranky. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, the rest of the world needed to watch out. Hell had no fury like an Italian woman in a bad mood.

Luckily for Mel and the rest of the world, Bill appeared a few minutes before we arrived at the house.

“Aaron isn’t going to be happy we’re here,” I said. “We definitely can’t go back inside since we’ve already disturbed the crime scene of an active investigation. I don’t know if the outside counts. If it does, we can at least claim naivete.” 

“If it does, whadda we care?” Ma asked. “We’re lookin’ for the big bucks, and if we find it, we might find out who killed Bill and Emma too, right? Then we’re the heroes and it won’t matter none about the crime scene bein’ disturbed.”

“I hope so,” I said. “But it’s not like their names will be on the money.”

“I really wish I was psychic,” Mel said.

“Watch what you wish for,” I said.

Mel hobbled out of the car, and I grabbed the garden tools from the back seat and dragged them along to the backyard. She leaned against a tree while Bill showed me where the dog was buried.

“What kind of dog?” Mel asked.

“A Golden Retriever,” I said.

In the far back of the lot, just into a heavily wooded area past the fenced part, stood a tall tree with a thick trunk, probably hundreds of years old based on the size of it. Bill said Emma put a small box with a photo plaque and poem encased with glass inside. He said she’d told their son she’d buried the dog there because she didn’t want the next owners of the house possibly disturbing the grave. Mel staggered over to it while I crawled around the burial area checking out the ground for possible clues. I wasn’t sure what I was searching for, probably a needle in a haystack, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do. I hoped whatever I needed to find would make itself known to me.

“Ang, you gotta come look at this,” Mel yelled from the tree.

“Gimme a sec,” I yelled back, patting the ground with a small metal spade. I pulled myself up, wiped the leaves and sticks from my jeans, and made my way toward the far end of the backyard. Just before I reached her, my ankle caught in a dip in the ground and it twisted outward. I went down on it and fell to the right, catching myself on my right arm and falling flat on the palm of my hand. “Son of a beach ball,” I screamed. “That hurt.”

Ma zipped over with Bill close behind her. Mel took a little longer, but that was to be expected. “Oh, that can’t be good,” she said, staring at my twisted ankle. “Who’s gonna drive home now?”