Blame It on the Dog Page 17

  “Oh, posh.”

  “No ‘oh, posh’. They tried to kill me once. Now they’re trying to frame me. I think they might try again. I can’t get to the Pink Lady. I need Jerry’s pistol, the .38 he kept behind the counter.”

  “I’m so sorry, Gabriel, I don’t have it anymore. I donated it to the San Saba Children’s Home.”

  “The children’s home? What do they need with a .38?”

  “To sell in the thrift shop, of course. To make money for the children.”

  “What about his hunting knife?” His face was hopeful.

  “I’m afraid that’s gone, too; and the baseball bat; and Jerry’s golf clubs. They were so happy to have them and I didn’t have a use in the world for them. I wish I could be more helpful. Do you really think you will be in danger, Gabriel?”

  “Yes, I do. Sophie, I’ve got to get an edge of some sort; how about a flashlight?”

  “Oh, dear.” The old woman pursed her lips and then held an index finger in the air. As her eyes moved back and forth, the finger followed.

  Gabe finally decided she was thinking, again. He had never seen her think like this before. He dismissed her with his hand, “Don’t worry about it, Sophie. I’ll come up with something. It’s not your problem.”

  “Yes! It will be just perfect!” she said. She turned abruptly and scampered up the steps and into the house.

  I hope it’s a big flashlight. That may be the only protection I’ve got. Or, then again, maybe we won’t need it. Except to see in the dark. That’s thinking positively.

  A few minutes later she emerged from the house carrying a long, black MagLite and smiling broadly. In her other hand she was holding a shiny piece of straight wire between two fingers. “Here it is!” she announced.

  “Great. Those are the best flashlights in the world.” He meant every word. The only light he’d ever owned that worked all the time, every time was a MagLite.

  She pumped the wire in the air. “Not that, dear. This.”

  “What’s that?” he said, squinting.

  “A hatpin!” she announced triumphantly.

  “A hatpin?” His face fell.

  “Yes! In mystery after mystery whenever the heroine was in danger her greatest friend was a hatpin.” Her eyes sparkled as they focused on the silver-looking pin. “My mother gave this one to me when I was a teenager. It is silver, and seven inches long. That was the legal size in several states. The law considered them,” she lowered her voice to a stage whisper as if they were conspirators, “lethal weapons.” Then she pointed to the ornate head on one end. “See this? It is a reproduction of King Tut’s sarcophagus. The workmanship is exquisite. My mother said that everything Egyptian was the rage after they discovered his tomb. Isn’t it lovely? It was her mother’s. Oh dear! I’ve allowed it to become tarnished.”

  “Sophie, I can’t take that. It’s your grandmother’s.”

  “Don’t be silly, of course you can.”

  “But nobody uses hatpins anymore.”

  “All the better, Gabriel. They won’t be expecting you to have one. The element of surprise is yours! Oh, yes! And I won’t polish it. It will be more camouflaged if it remains dull.”

  Really getting into this, aren’t you, Soph?

  “Now, where shall we hide it? Hmm. I’ve got just the place.” She bent over and said, “Be still, Gabriel, I don’t want to prick you.” She proceeded to work the pin into the thick outside seam of his right pant leg. When she was finished the only thing sticking out was King Tut’s sarcophagus. “That is perfect! And it is hardly noticeable, don’t you think. No one will know that you’ve brought your mummy along.” She giggled at her joke.

  “Mummy. I get it. But, Sophie, this is ridiculous. I can’t protect myself with just a hatpin.”

  “Nonsense. ‘Ridiculous’ is going into a fight with nothing more than your wits, Gabriel. Do you have any other ideas?”

  “Well, no. But…”

  “But nothing. You just be careful and hopefully you won’t need to bring out the heavy artillery.”

  Sophie’s face was as serious as he had ever seen it. He nodded and said, “I’ll be fine, Sophie. They’re the ones who’d better be careful. I’m armed and dangerous,” he said and reached for King Tut’s head like a cowboy slapping leather.

  CHAPTER 28

  JANE HAD CALLED it right: one of her nurses had trouble finding a sitter for her sick child at the last minute so Jane had to cover her until shortly after 9 pm. The not-so-dry cold front arrived before she and Gabe reached Mountainview a little before 11. The gusting wind they expected; high winds often accompanied autumn cold fronts. It was the rain that surprised them. It came in waves, slapping and assaulting the sedan, then resting before coming again.

  “I thought the weather man said no rain?” said Jane.

  “Ah, the mysteries of frog entrails and chicken bones.”

  “Be serious, Gabe, this is no time to be joking around. This is serious business. Couldn’t we just call the sheriff? He seems like a nice man. He has really nice, green eyes.”

  “No doubt he is – and does, but he’s the law and if he thinks I killed Chip Drake, the first thing the nice sheriff with the pretty eyes is going do is slap me in leg irons and toss me in the pokey. Since he’s so nice, maybe he’ll shove a tray of bread and water under my nose. Then if he’s really nice he might listen to what I have to say. Maybe. If I’m lucky.”

  From the backseat the dog whined, then barked.

  Jane jerked the wheel and then fought to keep the car on the road The Camry swerved dangerously before she corrected and brought it back under control.

  “What’s the dog doing here? We left him with Sophie. I saw her take him into the house!” Her eyes were wider than usual, and they reflected fear.

  “We did. And she did take him inside. But we can’t keep him where he doesn’t want to be. I don’t know how he does it, he just does. Most of the time it drives me nuts.”

  “When does it not bother you?”

  “Like now, when he agrees with me. Right, boy?”

  The dog barked once.

  “Good dog.”

  “It’s unnatural; spooky.” Jane was still rattled by the dog’s appearance but she managed to add, “Tigger may agree with you, but I don’t. And you won’t consider your injury! You had surgery two days ago. If you keep doing what you’re doing you’ll pop some stitches and start bleeding. You’ll make a mess out of that leg!” she lapsed into a disagreeable silence until they turned off the main road onto the dark, twisted entry to Mountainview Villa.

  Almost to herself, she said, “It’s a good thing they put those little lights along here,” indicating the dim security lights placed at intervals along the edge of the pavement. “Otherwise this would be the darkest road I’ve ever been on. As it is it’s plenty spooky. Look how black it is back in there.” She was pointing into the trees.

  He saw her shiver in the glow of the dash lights. “Are you afraid of the dark, Jane?”

  “Everybody is!” She shivered again.

  “You’re really scared, aren’t you? What are you afraid of?”

  “Things get you in the dark. That’s where the bad stuff always happens in the movies. And my brother used to jump at me when the house was dark. He thought it was funny to make me wet my pants.”

  “Your brother sounds like a moron. Makes me glad I never had a brother.

  “He was just a brother, Gabe. We’re pretty good friends, now. He calls me every couple of months or so.”

  He nodded in the other seat. “It should get a little lighter once you break out onto the parking lot, Jane. There’s security lighting so the residents don’t run over each other at night. It’s the trees that make it so dark, here. The cloud cover doesn’t help, either. See what I mean?”

  The sound of the tires on the wet pavement changed as they rolled from the road onto the smoother parking surface. The security lights cast cones of yellowish light along the expanse of pavement and
on down to the end of Serenity Lane. The result was a soft glow that pushed back the night.

  “The jigger is empty,” said the woman on the television screen. She was handcuffing a man. His hair was disheveled and his head hung down.

  “Up, Ziva: the jig is up. She’s not from around here,” her handsome companion smiled sardonically and walked the cuffed man off screen.

  “I love this show,” Edsel said. “NCIS is the best show on TV.”

  “You’re an idiot. You’ve seen every episode ten times and you still watch it every night. I’m sick of it.” Anita Drake shook her head.

  “You’re sick of everything, Anita. I’m sick of your sour attitude. It pulls me down. Do you know how hard it is to walk among these zombies every day, smiling and schmoozing and laughing at the same jokes, hearing the same stories? Your sour puss…”

  A loud buzzer sounded in the back of the house.

  Edsel looked confused. “What’s that?”

  “It’s the intruder alarm. We have visitors. I told you we needed to install that system, but no, you didn’t want to. If I listened to you, this whole place would fall apart. Smiling and schmoozing among the cattle is all you’re good for. Go set up the tape so we can see who it is.”

  He opened his mouth to respond and thought better of it. Instead he checked the clock above the mantel. “It’s almost eleven. It’s just one of our residents coming home from a wild night on the town. Probably the Golden’s. She’s a dancing fool.” His tone was sarcastic. “With any luck they’ll fall asleep at the wheel and drive off the cliff and I’ll have another unit to sell. That couple from Duluth is hot to trot.”

  “Don’t be a fool! I want to see that tape and I want to see it, now. Get off your lazy, good for nothing…” she said, referring to his backside. “Do it!”

  “Of course, your foul-mouthed, freaking majesty!

  “Watch your mouth, Edsel Drake.”

  Mumbling under his breath, Anita Drake’s husband walked down the hall with her right behind him.

  “Park at the end, Jane, near the dirt road to the shed. I’ll walk the rest of the way from there,” he said. The big flashlight was in his hand.

  “We’ll walk the rest of the way. I’m not staying here; I’m going with you.”

  “It’s too dangerous, Jane. I’m going alone.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen, Gabe. Besides, it’s too scary to stay here.”

  “You don’t know that, and that’s the point. I’m unarmed as it is. If we run into any kind of trouble it will be twice as hard to keep us from getting hurt.”

  “You don’t have to take care of me. I’m an RN. I wrestle out of control patients all the time. I always win. I’m a big girl and I’m going with you, got it?”

  She’s right, you know. This is recon, pure and simple. Nobody’s gonna get hurt.

  He shook his head and said, “Cinch up your big girl panties, then, and let’s go. But no whining when you get all wet and cold.”

  “I was about to tell you the same thing. Did you bring your big girl panties?” she grinned.

  “Funny girl. Let’s go, but no talking.”

  “Who’s going to hear us, the ‘possums?”

  “I don’t know who’ll hear us. But if we keep our lips zipped no one will. D’you hear that, dogface? No barking. Zip those skinny, black lips of yours.”

  Gabe was glad when they reached the dirt road and got out of the open brightness of the parking lot. The road quickly swallowed them in a blanket of almost total darkness.

  “It’s too dark! Turn on the flashlight,” Jane gasped, forgetting to whisper. Her voice was tinged with panic. She almost screamed when Gabe gently grabbed her arm. She felt his breath on her ear and shivered.

  “No lights. No talking.” His whisper was barely audible, even with his lips almost touching her ear.

  “You scared me half to death!” she whispered back.

  He pinched her earlobe in reply.

  “Calm down. Take a deep breath and tighten those big girl panties,” he chuckled in her ear.

  “This isn’t funny.” Her voice was louder than Gabe was comfortable with but he let it go and pulled her onward.

  The rain that had stopped before the Camry rolled into Mountainview had begun again, this time as a light mist. It began falling more heavily about the time their eyes finished adjusting from the well-lit common area to the deep darkness of the tree-shrouded dirt road. Their night blindness was gone completely and the shapes of trees were now visible through the mist, framed against the dark, grey sky. The difference in tone was minimal but helped calm Jane’s nerves. At least she could see something.

  Edsel Drake opened the accordion door of the tiny security closet and sat at the console. Still grumbling under his breath he backed the timer up and punched “Play”. The image on the screen never changed.

  “See? Nothing there. This is a waste of time. I’m missing the next episode.” He yawned, his mouth opened wide. “It was probably just a deer or a…”

  “Does that look like a deer to you? Does that look like nothing to you?”

  A car had entered the screen in jerky, time-compressed movements.

  Drake squinted at the screen. “Is that Chance?”

  “Run it back and freeze it!” said Anita.

  The car backed up in fast jerks until Edsel pressed the “Pause” button. The image on the screen was a grainy shot of Gabe and Jane taken through the windshield of the Camry.

  Anita’s voice was triumphant. “It’s Chance. Who’s the bimbo?”

  “His girlfriend. What are they doing here?” Edsel’s brows were tight and his hand trembled above the mouse.

  “’Get a grip, Edsel. They’ve come to make more trouble. Get dressed and go find him. Now!”

  In the distance ahead of them, the lighter shade of the shed in the small clearing began to reveal itself. Jane stopped and pulled Gabe’s head down to her mouth.

  “How are we going to see in there with no light? It’ll be like a cave,” she whispered.

  “No windows, remember? The flashlight will be fine. Walk behind me, now, single file. Oh, yeah. Don’t stick your tongue in my ear again.”

  “In your dreams.” She dropped back a few paces and watched his barely discernable silhouette advance toward the grey blob of shed. He stopped suddenly and she heard him hiss, “Police tape. Don’t break it. Go under.” He ducked down and for an instant she lost his shape entirely. She followed blindly, feeling for the tape. Up ahead she heard a scraping sound as Gabe slid the big door open a few inches. The sound lasted less than a breath of time. Then her eyes were drawn to a rectangular glow ahead. He was standing sideways in the doorway, the flashlight illuminating the interior of the building.

  “Come on,” he whispered.

  Once she had squeezed through the tight doorway, she was at last free of the steady drizzle. Water dripped from her hair to the concrete floor.

  “Over here,” Gabe said in a low voice.

  “I’m freezing! She shivered, wiping water from her face. “And I must look like a drowned rat.”

  “Not so loud. We still have to be careful.”

  “Why? Who’s going to hear us? We’re in a dark hole in the middle of nowhere. Anybody in their right mind is inside in their pajamas with a cup of hot chocolate. I’m wet and freezing.”

  Gabe smiled and the dim light bounced from his white teeth. “I told you this would be no pleasure cruise.”

  She said through chattering teeth, “Well, don’t look so happy about it.”

  “What are you doing? I told you to find him!”

  Edsel was punching 911 on the house phone. “I’m calling the sheriff. He wants Chance and Chance is here.”

  “Hanson County 911, what is your emergency?”

  “Give me the sheriff. A man he’s looking for is here at Mountainview Villa.”

  “I’ll connect you. Please hold.”

  “Edsel, you idiot! We don’t want the sheriff here, yet. We need
to take Chance down, first!”

  “Sheriff’s department. What is your emergency?”

  “Edsel Drake. Sheriff Noble is looking for Gabe Chance and he’s prowling here at Mountainview Villa. Get the sheriff out here, now.”

  “One moment, please.”

  Edsel hummed softly, eyes tilted to the ceiling.

  “You’re an even bigger fool than I thought you were,” Anita said.

  “Mr. Drake? Sheriff Noble is on patrol in the area. He said he will be there as soon as he can. Do not attempt to engage the suspect.”

  “You bet. That’s why I’m calling you.”

  Edsel turned a smug face to his wife.

  “What are you looking at me like that for? What’s that supposed to mean?” she huffed.

  “It means Sheriff Noble is in the area and will be here any minute. She told me not to engage the suspect and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. We’ll wait right here until the sheriff comes to take care of Gabe Chance.”

  Anita pushed her husband aside and uttered only one word as she shoved past him. “Moron.”

  Gabe played the light around the room, getting a feel of the place again. The litter and trash looked more vile and repulsive in the low light. He stopped when the beam crossed a strip of tape adhering to the floor.

  “Come on,” he said. He followed the light and knelt on one knee while Jane stood beside him. “Don’t drip over here. I don’t want to mess up anything the cops missed.” He paused and traced the outline of tape with the beam of light. “He fell here, on his back, feet pointed at the front of the car.”

  “Were his legs crossed?” she said.

  “I don’t know. What difference does it make? Alright, he’s working on his car. Somebody comes in and stabs him in the neck with a syringe and shoves the plunger home. So what does he do?”

  Slowly, he stood up on both feet and faced the car. Then he bent at the waist and extended his arms as if he were leaning on an invisible object. He continued the pantomime as he suddenly jerked upright and slapped his neck. Slowly, he spun his body, pivoting on the toes of his left foot, stepping forward slightly with his right foot. A jolt of pain stabbed his thigh.