BM03 - Crazy Little Thing Called Dead (12 page)

“Please? I’ll pay you for looking,” Her tears were everywhere, dropping off her nose and chin. “If you find him I can give you a bonus. Please?”

I passed her the tissues.

“Not to be rude or anything, but why me? Why not the state police?”

“I do not trust the police.”

“I’m really sorry; I don’t have time to go looking right now. I’m in the middle of an assignment.”
And to tell the truth, I’m pretty sure I don’t want anything to do with you. I see you crying, but I’m not feeling your pain.

She started sobbing. “But what if the murder and Victor are connected. If you find him then you might know everything.” At least I think that’s what she said. She was nearly incoherent.

Ho boy. This woman is loony ‘toons.

Michèle left the bills on my desk and rose. When she got to the door she turned and looked at me for a moment.

She sniffed again, and wiped her eyes.

“I’m afraid what might happen if you don’t find him. Something bad. He could be hurt.”

Right. Also, over-protective
.

“I’m afraid, please find Victor Puccini.”

She left the door open as she left, descending the stars quietly.

A drill jackhammered in my head. I tapped on my keyboard, searching Michèle Ledroit. Nothing showed up that made sense to me. I picked up the phone and dialed Tom. He told me he’d look into her. I sat for a moment, willing my heart rate to drop.

When the answer to my query came it wasn’t in the form of a phone call. Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs and before I could work myself into a state of high anxiety, Tom came in through the open door. I’d forgotten to close it. He sat in the chair that Michèle Ledroit had occupied earlier, stretching his legs out to the side of my desk.

“Tell me about this woman.” He was watching me.

“She came in here crying the day after the murder. Said her boyfriend, Victor Puccini, was missing and that it was his car that went into the lake.” I shrugged.

“That car belonged to Margaret LeDonne.” Tom tapped one finger on my desktop.

“Maybe Victor Puccini was driving it?”

Tom reached up and slid the card off my desk from where it had been sitting next to where Ledroit had left the pile of Franklins. He flipped the card over and over in her hand.

Tom rested his elbows on my desk, leaning into me. “Ledroit comes in here the first time, turns on the water works and begs you to find her boyfriend. The second time she cries even harder and then tells you he’s in danger? I’ve got that right?”

“Pretty much. And she offered me money. That stack of Franklins.” I pointed to the money I’d yet to touch.

“How do you feel about lying low for a while? Maybe going to visit your folks? Or better still, don’t you have a brother in California?” He was tapping the card on my desk now. “I’m going to take this away with me. I’ll bring it back later. You weren’t thinking of calling her, were you?” This was not a question.

“The woman is loony ‘toons. I don’t think she’s dangerous. And why is it whenever anything gets hinky, cops ask me to leave town? It gives me the distinct feeling that you don’t want to deal with me.”

“If you weren’t such a busybody…”

“No you don’t. You are not pinning this on me. Just because I happened to be present when Claire found the body…”

“That’s exactly what I mean. You see a body and instead of running the other way you go and see if the guy is alive. If you weren’t a busybody you’d be running the other direction as fast as you could. Not leaving fingerprints all over the place for me to explain to my boss. As far as he’s concerned, you’re a rare female serial killer. If we had any spare officers he’d have you under surveillance.” Tom rubbed his hand across his close-cropped hair. “But knowing what you’re like, all I’m asking is that you call for help if anything strange shows up on your radar. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Tom wasn’t gone thirty minutes when Hambecker walked in. I hadn’t heard footsteps on the stairs so when the door came flying open I jumped about three feet.

“What’s the matter, Trouble, not expecting company?” he asked. The words were light but I thought I could hear tension underlying them.

“What’d you do? Levitate up the stairs? Give a girl some warning next time.”

“Didn’t realize I was in stealth mode. Sorry about that.” He stood in front of my desk. “I’m heading out to Thetford. Want to tag along? I’m asking in the spirit of cooperation, not out of any need to keep an eye on you.”

“I was just in Thetford,” I said. I cringed internally, thinking Hambecker might not be too happy about it. “It might look weird if I showed up again with you.”

“You already went to Thetford.” His voice was hard. “Why am I not surprised? You are fucking going to get yourself killed one of these days, and I am not going to be able to do a damn thing about it.”

He was back out the door before I could respond. My heart was pounding and there was a suspicious stinging behind my eyes. It had happened so fast that I wasn’t sure what I was reacting to. I reached over to grab a tissue and my hand was shaking. I wished I’d lied to Hambecker so I could be safe in his black SUV listening in on his questions. Not sitting here dealing with sobbing strangers and cranky bosses.

I threw my oatmeal in the trash and went home to cry in private.

***

I gave in and rolled my motorcycle out of the barn. The evening was warm and clear, no rain in the forecast. I pulled on my helmet and headed into town watching carefully for stray fawns. I loved how the air changed temperature as I drove down the hill, and then caught me with cool dampness as I rode across the river. By the time I got to Meg’s place, my mood had changed and I was feeling much mellower.

But when I got to the kitchen door I stopped. I could hear laughter; one of the kids was howling with glee. Usually, I’d open the door and join right in, but although I was calmer, I wasn’t in the mood for the kind of ruckus I heard behind the door. I turned and walked along the porch and onto the deck overlooking the river. The grill was set up near the railing and I peeked under the hood to see what was there. Several steaks were sizzling away but they weren’t ready to be turned. I leaned on the rail and watched the river. It is close enough to see a canoe gliding along but not close enough that I could tell who was in it.

I felt someone lean on the rail next to me and looked to see Hambecker. I sighed involuntarily and regretted it. Better not to let him know that he got under my skin.

“Can we call a truce for the evening?” he asked.

“You yelled at me.” The words still stung.

“I know.” His eyes were on the river, but he was still close enough to that I could smack him. And boy, did I want to smack him.

“That’s it? I know?” My face felt hot and I had to remind myself to breathe.

“Crap, Bree, you get me so wound up I don’t know what I’m saying half the time.” He was looking at me now, but I was having a hard time meeting his eyes.

“Is that your idea of an apology? Because if it is, it sucked.” I looked at the smooth boards of the deck under my feet wanting to end the argument, not being able to back down.

“Hell.” He took a minute to breathe. “I realize it’s your job to investigate stories, and I shouldn’t interfere.” He touched my face and gently lifted my chin so I was looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

I stood there and blinked at him like an idiot. Not one appropriate word came to mind. All I could think was if I leaned in just a little bit I’d be able to kiss him. Where was my righteous indignation when I needed it?

“Bree?” He dropped my chin and took a step back. “Are you with me here?”

“Uh, yeah.”
I accept your apology and raise you one night of passion.
“Thank you. We should go in now.”

“That’s it? Thank you, and we should go in now? What the hell is wrong with you?” He turned and went inside, slamming the door behind him.

“Me?” I yelled even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. “What the hell is wrong with
you
?”
Fucking apologizing and gazing in my eyes one minute, and yelling and stomping into the house the next
. I stopped myself from yelling ‘asshole’, but only just. That man brought out the very worst in me. I was going to have to pull myself together or go home. I opened the grill and started flipping steaks. This at least, I knew how to do.

Tom came out and joined me at the grill.

“Turn that one, there,” he said, pointing.

“I’ll get to it. You abandoned the grill now you have to deal with grilling the MacGowan way.” I kept my eyes on the grill, mortified by the tears in my eyes.

“Actually, Hambecker was doing the grilling. He asked me to take over but it looks like you’ve got it handled.” He sat down on the bench behind me.

I closed the lid on the grill and leaned my elbows on the railing. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t get along with anyone? I’d been yelled at worse than that on several occasions. Why was I letting it bother me this time? That damn Hambecker had me all messed up. The pressure in my head was building to the point I just wanted to bang my head against a tree. I wished Tom would go away so I could have a good cry and get over it.

“What’s up with you, MacGowan? You aren’t usually a brooder.” Now it was Tom with his forearms on the railing next to me.

“If you mean I don’t sit on eggs, you’d be right. This whole talking thing could use some work though.” I sighed and put my back to the river.

“What’s going on?” He nudged me. “Having a lovers spat?”

“Hambecker. One minute I think he likes me, the next minute he’s shouting orders at me.” I looked at my feet. My boots were scuffed.

“Doesn’t know what to do with you. I have that problem too. In a slightly different way, of course.” There was warmth in his voice, and a smile. It reminded me of my brother, JW.

“Doesn’t give him the right to yell at me.” I moved back to the grill and flipped the steaks again. Dusk was starting to settle in.

“Do me a favor; let it go for the evening. Meg’s frazzled and she doesn’t need any extra doom and destruction at the moment.” He put a fatherly hand on my shoulder.

“Okay.” I sighed again. It was getting to be a habit.

“Good, now help me get this meat on a plate so we can eat. I’m starved.”

I held the plate while Tom pulled steaks off the grill. He opened the door for me so I could carry the meat into the kitchen.

I sat at the table with Jeremy on one side of me and Sara on the other. Hambecker was across the table from me so I kept my eyes on my plate. I forked steak, baked potato and salad onto my plate, asked Sara for the dressing and busied myself eating. Eating without looking at the person across from you is fine if you don’t mind appearing rude. I kept imagining I could feel Hambecker’s eyes on me.

“Bree can I borrow Beans for a school project?” Sara was looking at me like I held her future in my hands.

“Beans is your Uncle Beau’s dog, sweetie. You’ll have to ask him. Eat your dinner now.” I pointed my fork at her meat. “Or I can take care of it for you.”

“Uncle Beau said I have to ask you because you’ll have all the inconvenience.” She piled lettuce on top of her steak.

“Did he really say it was all right with him? Or is this one of those things where you tell me he said it was okay, and then you go to him and tell him I said it was okay, and we both agree because we each thought the other one said yes, and then you get your way?” I uncovered her steak and cut it in half. “Start with that.”

“He really did say I had to ask you. Didn’t he, Mom?” Sara tuned to look at her mother, but Meg was dumping sour cream on her potato.

“I’m sorry Sara, I wasn’t paying attention. What did you say?” Meg asked.

“Uncle Beau told me to ask Bree about Beans.” Sara pushed the steak to the far side of her plate.

“Yeah. that’s true.” Meg said, cutting her steak into peanut sized pieces.

“Then it’s a done deal.” I said. “When do you need him?”

“Tomorrow. Mom said she’d call before you left home, but she forgot.” The steak was now halfway off Sara’s plate and Hambecker reached across the table, snagged it with his fork and added it to his plate. I looked up to see him grimacing at her a finger to his lips. She giggled.

“I’ll take you up after dinner and you can help me gather up his stuff.” I said, taking a bite. The steak was good despite the haphazard grilling it had gotten.

“What are you going to do with Beans at school, Sara?” Hambecker asked. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“We’re doing a unit on responsibility. We have to have be responsible for an entire week.” Sara was hacking her potato into little pieces now.

“Are you going to eat any of that?” I asked under my breath.

“I had a sammich before dinner. Don’t tell mom.” She hissed back.

“Wow,” Hambecker interrupted our exchange, “will you take him with you every day?”

“For the first day. Then we just have them at home and keep a journal about it. Mom said she could help make sure I don’t forget to feed or water him.” She palmed some potato and fed it to Mooch Dog under the table.

“Your Mom’s going to kill you if she catches you doing that,” I whispered.

Tom looked up and caught Sara’s eye. “Your Mom’s busy, short stuff. I expect you to do the job and not make your mother nag you.”

“I’ll do it right, Dad. I’ve got a plan.” Sara’s fork was frozen half way to her hand. She put it in her mouth instead.

Meg placed a hand on Tom’s arm. “It’s fine, Tom. Sara’s project is not a hardship.”

They looked at each other for a moment, until he nodded. “Of course Sara’s project isn’t a hardship. It’ll be fun to have Beans here for a while. But just out of curiosity why not one of our dogs?”

“Duh. Mom takes care of our dogs.” Sara said, her hand full of potato again was sliding under the table. I’ll give her one thing, the girl had nerve.

“Right.” Tom went back to his steak and Meg dropped her hand from his arm, the train wreck diverted.

However, there was a lot of slobbering coming from under the table.