Privy to Murder Page 9

  “Never fear,” Jan said. “I’m here with my amazing machine. I have a handheld blender in my bag that’ll work just fine.”

  “I love you, man. Now what are you doing on the night of the Calf-roper’s Ball?” I felt a little guilty. After all, I didn’t know for sure Reneé wouldn’t be back.

  Since it was a week night, the party was scheduled to end by eleven, so I didn’t need much more food.

  I had to stop trying to hide from Betty Ann and Donna. That wouldn’t work if I was going to live in this town. Gail, the owner of the Inn, walked in to the kitchen. She looked like Martha Stewart but talked like Maxine. I’d known her since I was a teen and she’d always been a friend.

  “I think they’re all having a good time,” she said.

  “Yeah. It’s those citrus margaritas that Jan whipped up. Here, try one.” I poured us both a frosty, light orange drink and we sipped.

  Gail took a deep breath as if she was going to say something. Cass stomped into the kitchen.

  “Mother. Candace is looking for you. She wants more of those margaritas right now. Why are you hiding out back here?”

  “Speaking of questions, what are you doing with Donna?”

  “I’ve known her for a long time. Now that I’m home are you going to try and pick my friends? Well you can’t.”

  I heard Candace, her voice loud and slurred. She’d had more than her share.

  “Where are those margaritas? Cass, did you tell your Mom? This party isn’t over just yet.”

  I shoved the last frosty pitcher into Cass’s hands, told her to help as long as she was hanging out in the kitchen and pushed her back into the party.

  “I’ll let everyone know that curfew is about now and start them clearing out, Gail. Thanks for all the help and letting this rowdy crowd in.”

  I went back into the party and began picking up empty trays. Just then a hush and chill swept through the building. Drinks dropped and flew from guests hands.

  What the hell? Was Mag interfering again? This was getting ridiculous. Every time I tried to do anything, the woman showed up. This time, she seemed to be specifically targeting Donna and Betty Ann.

  Donna yelped as her glass shot into the air. It landed on Betty Ann’s elaborate hair-do, dripping down her face and onto her dress, leaving dark splotches on the green linen.

  “What on earth. What’s making these glasses so slippery?” Donna whined.

  “Donna, you just ruined my dress. You’re going to replace it or I tell your Dad.”

  I made a bee-line for the kitchen. Sometimes retreat is a good thing. Mag beat me and upset the last pitcher of drinks.

  Gail jumped back. “What was that about?” She evidently did not see Mag standing there, a self-satisfied look on her face. “We must have a poltergeist.” She shook her head and swiped a rag at the mess.

  I didn’t know how many of these incidents I can deal with, I thought. I sat down hard on a stool. My heart rate had broken a record and I would walk in circles if I didn’t let it settle for a minute.

  The woman, spirit, poltergeist, whatever, would be the death of me if she wasn’t careful. Then who would solve her murder, if that was what she wanted?

  Thirty minutes later, the last guest left, I had managed not to fight with anyone, regained my equilibrium, and finished packing with Jan’s help, when my cell phone flashed. I’d silenced it, knowing I wouldn’t hear it over the music.

  Mumsie was panicked. “Tali, I’ve been trying to call you all evening. Why didn’t you answer your phone? Never mind, but you need to know, Brian’s contesting the custody agreement. He wants Sean, permanently.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I arrived home that night to an impossibly hot house and the burning need to find the old window air conditioner. Yes, burning. The tin shed at the end of the driveway held the accumulated heat of summer and was dark as a possum’s heart. Mumsie and I dug under piles of junk, looking for the unit we’d stored last time the air conditioning died.

  “I don’t believe he only gave me two weeks. Bill said he’d work on it and I shouldn’t worry because it isn’t even an issue. But I shouldn’t have to go to court to prove I’m a good mother.”

  I shoved over a box of baby clothes, not sure why I still held onto them, and climbed on a carton of books to look behind a broken TV stand.

  I pulled down a Christmas wreath, stirred up dust. Mumsie sneezed

  “Shine the damn light where I can see it, Tali. Any time you deal with divorce, the chances are someone will get pissed off and exert their power by contesting something, especially if children are involved. You can’t panic.”

  “Right, I should stay calm and expect Brian to not act like an asshole.” I picked up Sean’s old tricycle and burst into tears. “Mom. What if he wins, takes Sean away? I couldn’t deal with that. Why is he doing this? He’s the one who wanted us to leave.”

  “Honey, logic doesn’t come into it. He’s trying to control you, push your buttons. And a good job he’s done. Your involvement in the Maggie case gave him a great opportunity. Hey, I’ve been looking for this sign.” She set aside a large wooden sign I couldn’t see in the dark.

  “Mumsie, I’m dying here. A little sympathy would be good right now.”

  She mopped at her face with her forearm, succeeded in smearing dirt, then looked behind the old baby crib she kept in case of more grandbabies—no chance. “I’ll give you sympathy when you give me air-conditioning. Once we put the unit in place, we’ll all have to sleep in the back room. It’s the biggest, and I have the king-sized bed back there. There it is. We may survive the night.” She paused and looked at me for a minute.

  “Remember, dear, Brian is blowing and going. Look at his lifestyle and yours. Think Texas judges. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  We hauled the air-conditioner to the house and hoisted it onto its platform. Since the central air was installed by friends, not professionals, we never knew when it would break down and need help, so out would come this unit.

  Once cool air pushed into the back room, I made a pallett for Sean on the floor and for Cass on the couch. Mumsie and I would sleep on the bed.

  Mumsie, Cass and I gathered in the cool room, prepared to camp out. None of us were willing to sleep in the heat when the temperature was still 90º at ten o’clock. I pulled out a phone book and found a repair service who could send a guy out the next day.

  Mumsie was in her element. “Let’s watch a movie to go to sleep. How about The Big Easy or Sweet Alabama?”

  “Let’s watch Easy. I love that movie. Maybe it will take my mind off Brian. We’ll have to wait for Sean to go to sleep first.”

  “If Dennis Quaid can’t take your mind off Brian, no one can. Did you forget Sean is on a scout sleepover?

  “I’m losing it, seriously,” I told Mumsie. “I think I need counseling, or at least, a good movie.”

  * * *

  The next morning I woke up determined to figure out the whole murder business. I would not allow spirits and murder to ruin my life, and cause my son to be taken away. I’d go back to the ranch and look around the party area. I wasn’t sure what good it could do but it was better than sitting around in the heat, depressed over Sean, the car, money, life.

  I drove my rented truck onto the ranch by a back road, parking on the shoulder, and went straight to the area where the outhouses had been. They were long gone, as were the tables. Litter had been cleaned up. Obviously the evidence guys had done everything they needed to do.

  No crime tape marred the field. All that was left were trees, grass, humid summer heat and the sounds of cardinals and chickadees. Insects droned in the background. I caught the faint scent of a skunk on the light breeze that teased the trees before it disappeared.

  I poked around the trees, bushes, brush areas and found stickers, but nothing else. As I walked back toward the truck, a spot of color flashed, a color that couldn’t be a wild flower. I lost it, found it, lost it again. The breeze must be
waving something in front of whatever it was.

  I backtracked to see what I could find under the trees. What had I seen? I heard something in the bushes and froze. I didn’t see anyone or anything. I held my breath, listening. Nothing. I let it out, breathed in ... skunk. The scent was stronger and the breeze had stopped. Just what I’d need. I’d better get back to the truck fast.

  “Well, well,” I said out loud. “What have we here?” I reached down and picked up part of a gift bag from the party. The color had run off, the turquoise mottled by mud and rain. It had been crumpled into a ball but it was too heavy to be empty. I pried it open piece by piece, trying not to tear it. When I was able to peer inside I almost lost my grip. Hiding in the bottom of the bag was a large, bloody hunting knife.

  I heard the rustling sound again and looked up. The skunk headed straight for me. I clutched the bag and tried to remember the rules-hold very still or run like hell? Hit it on the nose? No, that would be a shark. Pee was involved. Nope, jellyfish.

  I decided to run. The skunk turned to spray. Hanging onto the knife, I bolted for the truck. I took a deep breath to scream, but gagged on the smell that now drenched my jeans. I threw the knife into the truck, shed the jeans and leaped in, slamming the locks, to do what? Keep out the skunk?

  Now what? I was in the enemy camp, in my bikini cut panties and a short shirt. I needed to call JT He’d be thrilled his boys missed this kind of evidence and pissed off at me for touching it. I reached for my cell phone. Shit fire, it was in the pocket of my jeans, outside, smelling like ten skunks.

  I can’t just leave my cell outside, especially as often as it’s been raining. And my car keys were in there with my license. Mumsie always said that shoving everything into pockets would get me into trouble.

  I looked around. No skunk. No people. I crept out of the truck. How the blank was I supposed to empty the pockets without getting close to, or touching the jeans? I picked up a couple of sticks from under one of the trees, slid each of them into one of the front pockets and tried to shake the stuff out of the pockets. I managed to get the scent on myself and nothing out of the pockets.

  I heard brush crackling, dropped the jeans, and ran toward the truck again, picturing a larger animal after me. I tripped and hit the car door, slamming it shut. I scrambled up and turned around, my back against the truck.

  Frank, Betty Ann, and Donna all stood there staring.

  “What are you doing on our, um, Frank’s property in your underwear?”

  “I always wear underwear, Betty Ann.” Just not in plain sight.

  “I enjoy seeing you, Tali, no matter what you wear, or don’t. I smell a rat, actually a skunk. That would explain why your jeans are on the ground?”

  “That would explain it. My keys, cell phone are in the pants. I need to get into my truck, get home. Any bright ideas?”

  “I have,” Betty Ann said. “Stay on your own property instead of snooping around here. What are you doing anyway?”

  “I was looking for an appointment book I thought I dropped during the party, but it doesn’t seem to be here.”

  Donna had a perfectly blank look on her face that made her look brain dead, but her eyes glared at me with more animosity than seemed reasonable.

  “So, does someone have a pair of slacks or something I can borrow? Frank, any way you can think of to retrieve my belongings from my jeans?” I avoided looking at either of the women so I could keep my temper.

  Frank looked so amused I was ready to hit him. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll get my truck and a trash bag so we can load you and your jeans and take you home.”

  “I can’t leave my truck here,” I said, picturing the bag with the knife. This wasn’t a secure place to leave evidence. Besides, what if one of them had hidden the knife in the first place? Like Betty Ann. She certainly didn’t look happy to see me.

  “Oh for Christ’s sake. I’m not afraid of a little skunk.” Donna grabbed the jeans and shook them hard, throwing the contents everywhere. Then she stalked off, followed by Betty Ann.

  I heard a crack when the cell hit the dirt, no calls now, and I’d have to buy a new phone. Crap. I grabbed the keys, my change purse and broken phone.

  “Thanks ever so much,” I yelled at Donna’s back. I turned to Frank. “I’d love that trash bag so I can bag up the jeans before I drive home.”

  “Back in a flash,” he promised. He kept the promise.

  I headed home and prayed no one would see into the truck.

  * * *

  I showered, using the strongest smelling shower gel I could find. I rubbed myself with two giant cans of tomato juice and rinsed that off, then shower gel again, followed by perfume.

  Then I drove straight to JT’s office.

  “Tali Cates, I ought to arrest you right now. You just made yourself a prime suspect.”

  “I just handed you evidence that your wonderful deputies missed. Why do you think that implicates me?”

  JT took a deep breath and blew it out. “You picked up the evidence, handled it, put your fingerprints all over it and destroyed the chain of evidence. You could have planted this for all I know. And why would you smell like a skunk?”

  I ignored the last question. “Why would I plant evidence? What could I possibly accomplish but shoot myself down?”

  “Tali, I’m just telling you how it looks, and what would happen in a court of law. We can prove who the blood belonged to and take fingerprints, possibly. But since it was removed from the murder scene by someone who isn’t a member of the law enforcement community, we’re screwed, and so are you at this particular moment. Even if the knife tells us who the murderer really is, we won’t be able to prove it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I shoved notebooks off the wooden chair in JT’s office and sat. The weight of the world slammed onto my shoulders. “Well, shit. It figures that my trying to help would make things worse. Everything is going down the tubes. Why the hell did I come back here? Oh, I know, money—the lack of it.”

  JT raised his hand like he was going to pat me on the shoulder but seemed to think better of it and went behind his desk and sat down. “Tali, I know you’re not stupid. You should have thought before you picked up the sack and essentially ruined the crime scene. I didn’t remember you being totally not clued in.”

  “I told you what happened. I came as soon as I could put clothes on and get here.”

  “But honey, you shouldn’t have touched anything in the first place. You should have used the cell phone to call me. Of course then no one would have gotten to see you so charmingly attired.”

  “Thanks, smartass. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

  He looked at me and at the knife. “You know I’m more suspicious of Reneé than you. She’s the one who ran away. Perfect way to draw attention to yourself.”

  I sat up straighter. “So when are you going to take her disappearance seriously and start looking for her? I’m worried. Even if she had a reason, she’s not a killer. My God, she can’t kill a spider.”

  JT opened his mouth to reply but answered his phone instead. “Okay, I‘ll be right there. Tali, you’d better come with me.”

  I stood up. “What’s wrong?”

  “We have big time thieves in town. Rusty and Sean tried to pull off a major heist.”

  “My Sean?”

  “Yup.”

  “What kind of heist?”

  “The gum ball machine at the Speedy Wash Laundromat.”

  Speechless, I shook my head, grabbed my purse and jogged after him. What did I say a minute ago? My life was in the toilet. My kid was a thief. What else could happen? God, ignore that please. I didn’t say it out loud.

  At the laundry, Sean and Rusty stood at attention, in front of the gum ball machine, tools at their feet. A police officer stood sandwiched between them.

  I vacillated between total anger and hysterical laughter. Sean looked ready to cry, Rusty prepared to chew nails. JT was talking to the owner.

/>   I took Sean by the arm. “What’s this all about?”

  “Rusty dared me. He thought we could be in and out before anyone noticed. Mom, I don’t want to go to jail. Tell JT. He’s your friend.”

  “Dare or not, why would you think this was okay? Are you trying for a career of stealing in broad daylight with people all around?”

  JT interrupted. “Son, I should haul you off to jail. You deserve be locked up for this kind of idiocy. I would swear your mom didn’t raise a fool.”

  The laundry owner, a woman with no sense of humor, now smiled and nodded. Maybe she was picturing the kids riding off in a police van, attached to a ball and chain.

  Sean looked at me but said to JT, “Yes, sir. I know, but please don’t. “I’m sorry, really. I promise.”

  JT didn’t elicit as much remorse out of Rusty until his mother arrived and then he collapsed. Oh the power of a mother to induce guilt.

  * * *

  On the way home Sean and I talked. Okay, I talked.

  “Do you realize the strength of the ammunition you just handed your Dad? I can’t believe you let yourself be caught up in this.”

  Sean looked out the window. “I wanted to be buddies with Rusty. I have to have friends before school starts. I have to.”

  I stopped talking when I heard raw desperation in Sean’s voice. What had our moving cost him? This was, at least partially, my fault. I had to deal with it on all levels, not just my own.

  “Mom, what is that?” Sean said.

  A sign of a giant hand was planted directly in front. Palm out, it proclaimed “Palm and Tarot Readings: By appointment only. 583-6255.”

  We pulled into the driveway, crunching on the gravel. At the sound of the tires, Cass flew out of the house.

  “Mom. Make her take it down. All my friends will see. What are we going to do?”

  I shook my head. “It’s Mumsie’s house, as you reminded me, and she’s the boss, but I’ll talk to her and see what we can do. At least you can’t see it in the dark.”