sensible cotton nightgown sopping wet with doggie drool. The shock might have killed a lesser mortal, but I’d raised two kids and knew how to roll with the punches.
“Mom!” Charla burst into my bedroom, her red hair waving like a bright flag. “The dog’s missing.”
“I’ve got her,” I said.
Charla’s face fell and darts of jealousy shot out of her brown eyes. “No fair. She slept with you? In your bed? Don’t you get detention for that?”
I edged out from under the dog’s massive head. “Nobody said this household was a democracy.”
Charla appeared to consider the import of the dog wearing me down. And in that second I knew trouble was brewing.
“Can I have a fringed leather motorcycle jacket? Can I? Can I?”
“As soon as I win the lottery.” I shooed her out of my room.
* * * * *
I called Britt right after I sent the girls off to school. “Got some detective news for you,” I said.
He yawned into the phone. “What kind of news?”
“I found out something last night. Dudley was in the habit of walking his dog every night about eleven-fifteen. The night he was killed, he went for a walk without his dog.”
“And you know this because?”
I winced at his sharp tone. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not as nosy as Mama. I was out walking Dudley’s dog, minding my own business, and Katie Morales stopped to see the dog. Katie comes home the same time each night and always sees Dudley out walking his dog. On the night he died, she says he went out alone.”
“Did she see anyone else?”
“I didn’t grill her. Figured you’d do that.”
“Good. Keep your nose out of this investigation.”
If I wanted to talk to people about Dudley’s death, I would. I owed it to Dudley and his dog to make sure the police put his killer behind bars. “You sound tired.”
Britt yawned again. “Stayed up all night working the case.”
My ears pricked up. “What do you know?”
“We have a suspect in custody. Forensic samples and fingerprints went to the crime lab in Baltimore a few hours ago.”
“Did you arrest someone?”
“Not yet.”
“Why the heck not?”
“Circumstantial evidence. No murder weapon.”
“Who is it?”
“This is police business, Cleo. You’ll find out when the rest of the world does.”
“You’re holding out on me.”
“It’s my job to hold out on you. Keep that in mind.”
As a kid I’d always hated it when adults said they did things for my benefit. Britt’s statement rubbed me the same wrong way. I didn’t like being kept out of the loop.
If he didn’t have the gun, what were the odds he had the right person in custody? Telling me to stay out of the murder investigation was just like waving a red flag at a bull. Nothing suited me more than charging off to do a little investigating on my own.
I bet there were plenty of folks he hadn’t considered before he’d zoomed in on his current suspect. There’s no way he could have done a thorough investigation in less than twenty-four hours.
Because I did the taxes for most of the people in Hogan’s Glen, I knew lots of dirt that he couldn’t possibly know. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of beating Britt at his own game.
The race was on. May the better woman win.
* * * * *
When I took Mama to get her car later that morning, the golf course parking lot was crowded. We had to weave through narrow rows of parked cars to get to her big clunker. I handed Mama the grocery list after I installed her in Shamu.
“Just get the things on the list,” I cautioned, narrowing my gaze to make sure she got my point. “No substitutions.”
She gave me her patented look. The one where she slits her eyes, purses her lips—but not for long because she’d get wrinkles—and juts out her chin. The look that says Cleo, you’ve said something monumentally stupid.
“I was buying groceries before you were a gleam in your father’s eye,” Mama said.
Mama never shopped with a list.
“Mom!” Charla burst into my bedroom, her red hair waving like a bright flag. “The dog’s missing.”
“I’ve got her,” I said.
Charla’s face fell and darts of jealousy shot out of her brown eyes. “No fair. She slept with you? In your bed? Don’t you get detention for that?”
I edged out from under the dog’s massive head. “Nobody said this household was a democracy.”
Charla appeared to consider the import of the dog wearing me down. And in that second I knew trouble was brewing.
“Can I have a fringed leather motorcycle jacket? Can I? Can I?”
“As soon as I win the lottery.” I shooed her out of my room.
* * * * *
I called Britt right after I sent the girls off to school. “Got some detective news for you,” I said.
He yawned into the phone. “What kind of news?”
“I found out something last night. Dudley was in the habit of walking his dog every night about eleven-fifteen. The night he was killed, he went for a walk without his dog.”
“And you know this because?”
I winced at his sharp tone. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not as nosy as Mama. I was out walking Dudley’s dog, minding my own business, and Katie Morales stopped to see the dog. Katie comes home the same time each night and always sees Dudley out walking his dog. On the night he died, she says he went out alone.”
“Did she see anyone else?”
“I didn’t grill her. Figured you’d do that.”
“Good. Keep your nose out of this investigation.”
If I wanted to talk to people about Dudley’s death, I would. I owed it to Dudley and his dog to make sure the police put his killer behind bars. “You sound tired.”
Britt yawned again. “Stayed up all night working the case.”
My ears pricked up. “What do you know?”
“We have a suspect in custody. Forensic samples and fingerprints went to the crime lab in Baltimore a few hours ago.”
“Did you arrest someone?”
“Not yet.”
“Why the heck not?”
“Circumstantial evidence. No murder weapon.”
“Who is it?”
“This is police business, Cleo. You’ll find out when the rest of the world does.”
“You’re holding out on me.”
“It’s my job to hold out on you. Keep that in mind.”
As a kid I’d always hated it when adults said they did things for my benefit. Britt’s statement rubbed me the same wrong way. I didn’t like being kept out of the loop.
If he didn’t have the gun, what were the odds he had the right person in custody? Telling me to stay out of the murder investigation was just like waving a red flag at a bull. Nothing suited me more than charging off to do a little investigating on my own.
I bet there were plenty of folks he hadn’t considered before he’d zoomed in on his current suspect. There’s no way he could have done a thorough investigation in less than twenty-four hours.
Because I did the taxes for most of the people in Hogan’s Glen, I knew lots of dirt that he couldn’t possibly know. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of beating Britt at his own game.
The race was on. May the better woman win.
* * * * *
When I took Mama to get her car later that morning, the golf course parking lot was crowded. We had to weave through narrow rows of parked cars to get to her big clunker. I handed Mama the grocery list after I installed her in Shamu.
“Just get the things on the list,” I cautioned, narrowing my gaze to make sure she got my point. “No substitutions.”
She gave me her patented look. The one where she slits her eyes, purses her lips—but not for long because she’d get wrinkles—and juts out her chin. The look that says Cleo, you’ve said something monumentally stupid.
“I was buying groceries before you were a gleam in your father’s eye,” Mama said.
Mama never shopped with a list.
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