Broke: (7 page)

Emmett did much better. He brought a package of Barbie shoes. Drew was ecstatic and dr
agged
out five Barbies to start trying them on.

After a hearty meal of Hortense's excellent fried chicken and biscuits, with chocolate fried pie for dessert, the men, as usual, carried their dishes to the sink. Immy wondered how many men
, eating at other people's houses,
took care of
their
dishes
. Maybe the
se two
did it because
they each
lived alone.

"I believe," said Mother, "that there is a bit of warmth in the atmospheric environs this evening."

"There's some coolth, too," said Drew.

"I have procured," she continued,
after a fond look at her granddaughter,
"a bottle of Fish Eye wine. Is there interest in consuming it in the
backyard
?"

Did Mother just titter
?
wondered Immy.

A sound came from the area of the sink. Good lord, did the chief just giggle?

Immy was able to roll her eyes at Ralph without the older two noticing and Ralph returned her a quick
grin
.

Ralph fetched the lawn chairs and, sure enough, even though October was well under way, the air felt good with
only
a
light
jacket on. The four adults sat and sipped the pinot grigio while Drew played with Marshmallow. The pig liked it when Drew placed a bucket over his head. He'
d
grunt with pleasure and toss it off. When he got tired of the game, Drew sat beside him and scratched him all over. The little guy, who was getting less little every day, closed his eyes in delight and leaned into Drew's hands.

"Has the cause of death come out yet?" Immy said, since the entire Saltlick police force was there and one of them ought to know.

"Not officially," Ralph said.

"It's obvious, though," Chief added. "His neck was broken.
Hadlock
at Wymee Falls called to see if
I thought
the guy we're holding could have done it."

"And?" Immy said.

"Sure," Chief said. "It takes a certain amount of strength, but from the
number of
bottles
that were left in that place
,
Wymee Falls says
they'd all had a lot to drink. On the one hand, that ma
d
e the vic easier to kill--less reaction time and reflexes. On the other hand, drink has made a killer out of quite a few people before this--lack of inhibition and sometimes more rage."

So Dewey could be the killer, thought Immy. "Could a woman do it?"

"I don't think any were there," Chief said, "but a strong one probably could."

"Do you want me to start building something
for Marshmallow
at the new house this week?" asked Ralph.

Immy had hoped he would offer. "Sure. That would be fine."

Ralph got up and walked to the fence. Immy followed him. Ralph
tried to shake one of the sturdy
fence pole
s
with one hand--the other was holding his wine glass.
The pole didn't budge.
"I'm not sure I can move this fence. Might have to build another one."

Immy shrugged. Ralph was the construction expert, not her. He wandered to the pig's house. "We can take this with
us
, I think.
It'll be easy to move." He glanced at the ramp leading up the back step. "
Do you need a ramp at the other house?"

She couldn't quite remember the
backyard
, but there was a porch. "Guess so.
I think there are stairs.
That's a lot of work."

"No problem." Good old Ralph.

***

Monday morning Immy got to work early, surprising Mike Mallett so
much
that he dropped the match he was lighting his walnut-scented candle with. He
ground
it out, then gave her a curious look.

"Hi, Mike," she said. "I didn't think you'd be here yet."

"Okey, dokey. And why did you want to be here when I'm not?"

Immy hesitated.

"Answer me that, kiddo."

"I wanted to work on the computer a little."

He leaned against his desk and folded his
skinny
arms. Not a good sig
n
. "My work or yours?"

"I have this cousin. I just found out about him. He's missing and I need to find him."

"Whoa, slow down. Back up. Take a load off and tell me what's goin' on."

So Immy
sat in his side chair and
told him first about learning that she had another uncle, then about the uncle
, Dewey,
saying he had a son.
"
But
his
divorced wife moved away somewhere and Uncle Dewey wasn't supposed to see the son any more.
"

"Why not? This guy a bad egg?"
Mike eased into his own gigantic chair behind his desk.
Two of him would have fit in the chair with enough room left over for a small child.

"He doesn't seem like it. I talked to him in jail and he's very nice."

"He's in jail? How come, if he's so nice?"

"He might have killed someone, but I don't think he did."

"Why not?"

"
Th
e
only thing he went to prison for was
swindling people."

"He's been in prison?" Mike's chair creaked as he shot forward and thumped his forearms onto his desktop. "Sure sounds like a nice guy, kiddo. You got rocks in your head?"

"He's my uncle. He's related to me. He couldn't have killed anyone."

"That don't necessarily follow, you know."

Immy
jumped
up, gravely insulted.

"Hey,
" Mike said. "
I
mean that goes for everybody
. Anybody can be related to scumbags, you know. My kid brother, well, let's just say he ain't got sterling character. Could happen to any
one
."

But Immy wouldn't admit it could happen to her.

She was kept so busy the rest of the morning she didn't get a chance to use the computer to look for her cousin, Dewey Junior. But Mike left for a meeting with a potential new client after lunch, so she shelved the rest of her work and turned to her search. She thought she'd start by researching Dewey Senior. Maybe she'd learn something that would lead her to Junior.

Mike subscribed to a service, one of the paid ones mentioned in her course book
she was happy to find out
, and he'd given her access to it to do background checks for some of his jobs. She plugged in his name, Dwight Duckworthy, and the
DOB
he'd given her
(
she knew
PIs call
ed
birthdays
DOBs
)
. She found his place of birth, the hospital in Wymee Falls where both his brothers were born. He'd married Fr
i
eda
Alvin
when he was twenty-two and Dwight Junior had been born two years later.
Bingo! She had Dwight's DOB. He'd also been born in Wymee Falls. But she needed his name!

Idly, she googled
her Uncle
Dewey
, Junior's father,
and came up with something surprising. He'd been a
national
bull riding champion. It was big news in the rodeo circles when he'd been busted up badly and quit the bull riding circuit. There was a span of newslessness between his accident and his arrest for running an illegal gaming racket at rodeo meets.

What a life her uncle had led! Immy had always thought bull riders were crazy.

The risks are enormous
, she thought
. When you leave the animal's back, a bull will try to kill you. Unlike a horse, who avoids stepping on a person if he possibly can. Of course, a horse's legs are much more delicate than a bull's, so that's probably the reason for that.

Some of the bucking broncs, Immy knew,
we
re as mean as the bulls. And if you did manage to stay on the animal for the required eight seconds, you had to risk your life getting off. Why not do something less death-defying? Like bull dogging, or calf roping. No one g
ot
hurt doing that. Not much anyway.

But to have been a national champion, for three years, from what she'd found, and then to have to leave the circuit
..
.
a
h, but he hadn't left it. He'd kept making the rounds, running illegal
betting
schemes.

All her searches for Dwight Junior hit dead ends.
Immy left work
only an inch
closer to finding
him
than she'd been that morning.

Chapter
Eight

Immy stopped by the bookstore in the mall before she headed home
. She made straight for the collection of
Moron's Compleat
books and searched for one on finding missing persons. There it was!
The Moron's Compleat Guide to Missing Person
s
.
She wondered why they weren't called "missing people." "Persons" was such an awkward word. She snatched it from the shelf and the book next to it fell out. When Immy picked it up, she got a prickly feeling in her spine. It was
The Moron's Compleat Guide to Ghosts
. She thought she'd better get that one, too.

She fidgeted through supper
at home
, wanting to get to her two new Guide books. But as she and Drew were carrying the
ir
dirty plates to the sink,
a knock
sounded
on the front door
.

"I wonder who that could be," said Hortense. "It's odd that someone shows up immediately
after
a meal."

Immy peeked through the window next to the door, but didn't recognize the young man standing on the porch. Cautiously, she opened the door
, leaving hooked the chain that Ralph had installed
. "Yes?"

"
Uh, yes. Hi
." The man was tall, well built, with medium brown, curly hair and green eyes. He looked vaguely familiar. "Do some Duckworthys live here?"

"I'm a Duckworthy and I live here," Immy said.

"You don't know me, but I'm a relative of yours."

"Junior?" Immy unhooked the chain and threw the door open
with a grin
. Yes, he looked like her father. Even resembled what Uncle Dewey would look like cleaned up, she thought.
"Mother, I found Junior."

The man stepped into the living room when Immy stood aside. "No
, no
t Junior. My name's Theo Nichols."

Immy's smile faded. "Oh. I thought you might be my missing cousin."

"No, no, I
am
your missing cousin. But my name's changed."

"Imogene," said Hortense, coming in from the kitchen. "Show our guest to a seat." She turned to the man who used to be Junior. "Would you care for a libation?"

Theo looked confused, but took a seat on the green plaid couch.

Immy leaned close to him and whispered, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Iced tea, perhaps?" offered Hortense. "Or perhaps a malted brew?"

Immy mouthed the word "beer" to Theo.

"Tea is fine," he said. "
Unsweet
, please."

Hortense
gave him a deep
nod and Immy knew it was because she approved of his manners.

Theo waited to speak until Immy and her mother were settle
d
in with
their own tea glasses
, Immy on the other end of the couch and Hortense in the recliner. Drew had stood shyly in the kitchen doorway ever since he'd entered the house. Now she
came
to sit cross-legged beside the recliner and star
e
at the newcomer.
Her chestnut curls and green eyes made her a miniature ringer for Theo. He was definitely family. Immy sometimes thought Drew took after the trucker that fathered her, but here was proof to the contrary.

"How on earth did you find us?" asked Immy. "I've been trying to figure out how to
locate
you, but I didn't know your name or anything." She wondered if she could return the book she'd just bought, since she didn't need to find any more missing persons
, and she had a course book on the subject anyway
.

"It's a long story. My parents divorced when I was a child, and Mom and I moved to
Fort Worth
. When she got remarried, my new Dad
, Hal Nichols,
adopted me and they changed my name. I wanted to keep my first name, but I was a minor and couldn't overrule them.
Then my
stepdad
left us after five years.
"

"I guess you could change it back," said Immy.

"Nah, I don't really want to any more. I missed my
d
ad
, my real dad,
something fierce for a long time. Mom wouldn't tell me much about what he was doing, but I think she knew. She died of cancer last year and a few months before she died, she told me that he was in prison in Wymee Falls. I found a database that
lists
prisoners and kept track of him
."

Immy got the name of the database from him in case she might need it, as a detective, someday. She wrote it on the envelope from the water bill and tucked it into her purse.

"Have you seen your dad?" asked Immy.

"No, I don't know where he is." Theo took his first sip of the tea.
"Do you?"

"Relate to us how you managed to determine our location," said Hortense.

He set the glass down quickly
.
"I knew
my dad had
been at Allblue
and was released
, so I looked for Duckworthys in the area.
" He waved his hands in rhythm to his words. "
You're the only ones. Do you know where he is?"

I
mmy and her mother exchanged a glance
. "Yesss," said Immy, not wanting to tell him.

"He's not in Allblue
again
, is he?" Theo
balled his fists and
tensed for the answer.

"No," said Immy. "He's
just
in jail in Saltlick.
At least he was Friday when I saw him."

Theo sat up straight. "So maybe I can see him tonight."

"I'm not sure. Tabitha will probably be gone by now." It was nearly six-thirty. "It might be better to wait till morning."

Theo's shoulders slumped.
"Why is he in jail?"

"That was a misunderstanding. He's in for trespassing, but it was in my house."

"Here?" Theo looked around.

"No, my house in Wymee Falls. Look, I'll call Ralph
, this cop I know,
and tell him you want to see Dewey." Immy went into the kitchen to call.

"Immy,"
Ralph
said before she could get started on her request. "Can't talk. Big wreck on the bypass. Semi turned over. Call me tomorrow."

"No go," she said
to Theo
, returning to the living room. "They're all tied up tonight
with a wreck
. I'll call Ralph first thing tomorrow and I'm sure you can see
Dewey
then."

"Can you let me know as early as possible?" Theo stood
and pulled his wallet from his hip
pocket, extracted a business card
,
and handed it to Immy. "Call my cell. I'll be at the Best Western
in Wymee Falls."

"You're perfectly welcome to our davenport," said Hortense. "If you'd desire that alternative."

"No, I'll be fine."

After he left, Drew stood up and
thought
for a moment.

"Why is the man all blue? Doesn't he got any other color clothes?"

"Allblue is a location," said Hortense. "I presume his clothing was adorned with stripes whil
st
he resided there."

"I like st
w
ipes," said
Drew, and returned her attention to her Barbies.

Immy studied her ghost book after Drew went to bed and decided it might be possible for her to exorcise the house.
The book had been a good buy. It spelled out the different types of ghosts: doppelg
ä
nger, a duplicate of a living person; poltergeist, mischief maker but not connected with an actual person; vard
ø
ger,
a Norse ghost who does things
immediately
before a real person does them (that would be handy for a fortune teller, she though);
gjenganger,
a Scandinavian spirit of someone risen from the grave, but not really ghostlike, more human like;
and wrait
h, a bad omen with a cloak and no face
. She decided Mrs. Tompkins didn't fit any of these descriptions
.
She was delighted that t
he book
had
a list of items needed for ghost hunting
, and instructions for getting rid of ghosts
.
It stress
ed
that getting rid of ghosts isn't called exorcism, that's something different involving a priest. But the riddi
ng techniques seemed
like things she could do herself, once she made contact with
t
he
spirit
.

She'd talk to Jersey Shorr
again
about a rent reduction if she could
make the ghost leave the house
. Or maybe she'd talk to Vance. Yes, that would be better.

***

As soon as Immy woke up on Tuesday, she called Ralph and told him that her new-found cousin would be in to see his father. Ralph assured her that Dewey was still there. He didn't have any bail money.

"I don't want to press charges," said Immy. "It's
okay
that he was sleeping in my house."

"That's not really the issue. He was squatting on property that doesn't belong to him, or to you.
He's already been charged with trespass. I think they're looking at him for murder since he was there when the guy was killed."

"You mean I don't have any say-so? What about the owner of the house?"

"I know they're looking for him. He should know what's going on.
"

"Oh for...I'll find the owner for you. The real estate people have to know where he is."
Something pinged in the
furthest, murkiest reaches
of her mind, but she couldn't quite get it.

"You'd think.
If they do, they're not telling any of us.
How can you find him when
the cops
can't?"

That was a good question. She did have a book on finding people, or persons, rather. And she was taking a course in it. This would be a good test. She might even call it a case. The Case of the Missing Landlord. She'd work on it tonight. The thought of
her own Uncle
Dewey in jail since last Friday bothered her.

At her lunch break, she sped across town to Jersey Shorr's office. It was her lucky day. Vance was there and Jersey was out.
Besides wanting a rent reduction and the location of her landlord, s
he needed to get things with Vance onto a better footing.

Vance
raised his handsome head
at her entrance and smiled. Good sign.

"I need to find out something, Vance."

"No '
H
i, how are you?'" He gave a cute pout. It made the cleft in his chin even more evident.

Immy grinned and sat in the chair next to his desk. "O
kay
, how are you? Would you like to see the rest of the house some evening?" Maybe the upstairs? Where the beds are?

"Yes, I would. Tonight?"

"Nooo." She thought she'd better play hard to get a little more. Just a bit more, though. "How about tomorrow night? I can meet you
there
right after my work."

"Can Quentin come too? He's
also
very interested
in
see
ing
the house."

Oh crap. Immy wasn't up for threesomes. "I guess. But I need to know something right now.
I need to get in touch with my landlord."

"You don't need to do that. We're the property managers."

"Well, the thing is, my uncle is in jail for trespassing or something, and I don't think that's fair. He's my uncle. Can you or Jersey tell the cops he should not be charged with anything?"

Vance leaned forward, putting on an earnest expression.
He was still adorable.
"
He's already been charged. Anyway, we do
have policies, Immy. We can't let people squat on land that we're in charge of. Can't set precedents like that.
We manage a
lot of vacant properties. It would get out of hand if we let vagrants invade them."

"Not vagrants.
Only
one vagrant. And he's my uncle.
Can't they just
charge the other guys who were there
?
"