What the cluck its murde.., p.16
What the Cluck? It's Murder, page 16
“We won't keep you long,” Bowers said, pulling out his wallet.
“No hurry. There isn't anything worth watching. I was just killing time.”
I moved to the candy display and selected two Cruncho bars to keep Bowers from filching any of mine. When I set them on the counter, my boyfriend was praising Susi's keen observation skills.
“I bet no one enters or leaves Cave Bear without you knowing.”
Exactly what I had been thinking last night.
“That's probably true,” she said, trying to keep the pleasure out of her voice. “I bet you're going to ask me about the night Duane died. That would be Friday, right?”
“Observant and smart. Susi, you're a rare jewel.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She leaned her elbows on the counter. “Let me see. I know that no one other than cop cars passed by after eleven. Before that I saw a station wagon drive by, the one that belongs to the family with five kids. It was still early then. Around seven. But closer to eight, a black pickup truck stopped here to gas up. I didn't get a good look because Tallulah Lankershim was here. She dropped a bottle of Amaretto and I was cleaning up the mess. They didn't come inside. They were probably passing through to Phoenix because I didn't see them come by again. Oh. I saw your sister drive by just before that. Looked like she was headed home.”
Bowers and I exchanged a glance.
“June couldn't have driven by. She was with us.”
“Not June, silly. Dymphna. She was headed toward her apartment. Like she was headed home from June's house. Didn't you see her there?”
In the words of Bowers, aw, hell.
“What time was this?”
She squinted her eyes. “Seven-thirty? No, after eight for sure.”
Back in the car, Bowers turned to stress eating and shoved his Cruncho bar down his throat in two bites. I finished mine almost as quickly but because I'm a piggy when I have a candy craving.
I took the wrapper from his fingers and crumpled it up, licked the remaining chocolate from my teeth, and said, “Why is Dymphna staying at June's house if she has an apartment in town?”
My companion seemed grateful for the chance to talk about something as mundane as living arrangements. “It's outside of town. About a thirty-minute drive. June wanted this to be a reunion weekend of sorts and invited everyone to stay. Like us.”
“Nice of her.”
Silence.
“Very nice.”
More silence.
“Are we going to—”
“No.”
So, we weren't going to talk about this surprising development even though we were supposed to be partners. I knew I shouldn't point this out, but I couldn't help myself.
“We're supposed to be partners.”
“About that—”
Uh-oh.
He grimaced. “It's not you. It's me. I'm used to working on my own. Having time to think things through.”
“You've worked with Gutierrez before,” I said, voicing my hurt pride like a teenage girl. Call it professional jealousy.
“She knows me well enough to give me space, and I do the same for her.”
Ouch.
“If you pull over, I could walk the rest of the way home. You know. To give you space.”
“Don't be like that.”
I folded my arms. “Like what?”
He nodded at my defensive posture. “That. This isn't personal. I'm not attacking you. I'm just used to working a certain routine, and when things get stressful, it helps to fall back on routine.”
My choices were to be the understanding girlfriend who backed off and let him work his magic alone, or be the harpy who refused to understand, which I did. Understand, I mean. Only, if we were going to be a team, we should be united throughout the entire process, not just when Bowers found it convenient. Suffer together. That's my motto. I used my nicest tone when I explained that to him.
He disagreed.
“Being a team means taking into account each member's idiosyncrasies, and methods of working, and strengths—”
“What's my strength?”
I was looking directly at him, so I saw how his eyes opened wide in surprise. Or should I say panic, because he took his time responding.
“Well . . .I haven't had you at my side during an investigation, so I don't really know. Yet.”
I made an uncomplimentary noise.
“Hold on. You're tenacious and fearless when an animal's welfare is at stake. Remember how you attacked that trainer when you thought he was trying to poison your pets?”
Not one of my finer moments, and Bowers had to pull my attacker off me before he finished strangling me. Yes, I had thrown myself on Tyler Watts without a thought for my safety—or any thought at all, if I'm honest, which was not the brightest way to approach someone intending to kill your best friends-. But I had been brave, hadn't I?
“Come here,” he said, reaching out an arm and pulling me to over in a side hug, which kind of hurt with the console digging into my hip. Still, I appreciated the intention and rested my head on his shoulder.
He kissed the top of my head.
“I don't want to argue with you.”
“We weren't arguing,” I said primly, dismissing the irritation that I'd been feeling. “We were discussing.”
He slipped me a sideways glance. “It was headed that way.”
After pulling into June's parking area and shutting off the car, he turned his upper body toward me and embraced me in a full hug.
“Now, are we going to talk about your sister?” I said, my chin on his shoulder.
His arms tightened. “Is that really what you want to do right now?”
When he nuzzled my neck and worked his way to my mouth, I responded with enthusiasm. Five minutes later, we were both breathing heavily. I didn't think we were breathing loudly, but apparently, we were heard, because the back door opened, and we broke apart.
Bowers leaned back against the headrest. “She must have heard the engine when I came up the drive.”
She referred to June, who was now leaning out the open back door. “Marty, is that you?”
He rolled down his window and leaned his head out. “No!”
Ignoring the frustration in his voice, she giggled. “You nut. I just set lunch on the table.”
“We're coming,” he assured her.
We headed inside without ever talking about Dymphna, and I realized I'd been played. I took comfort in knowing the score was still three-to-one in my favor.
Once we finished lunch, everyone scattered, even Bowers, who said he had calls to make. I asked June to direct me to the laundry machine. I was wearing my last spare pair of underwear, and my jeans were on day five.
Once I got a load started, I sat on the back steps and took stock of the current situation.
I had called Seamus McGuire and asked him to hold on to my cat, Emily, for a while longer. He was happy to do so since Emily loves men and shows them both a courtesy and admiration she would never bestow upon me. Still, he probably wouldn't want to keep her forever.
Since I worked for myself, I didn't have to clear my extended vacation with a boss. I also didn't have vacation pay, and if I didn't start taking clients soon, I'd have to dip into my meager savings.
I didn't think Kipper would mind if we returned to Wolf Creek, but before Bowers would leave, his sister Dymphna had to be so free from suspicion of murder that at the mention of her name birds would break into sweet song. How close were we to finding out what happened to Duane?
He worked for a criminal named Slick with coworkers who resembled the Three Stooges in leather. When the cops had caught him driving a stolen vehicle, no one had come to his aid. That sounded like a reason for Duane to commit murder, not be murdered.
His mother thought he was a saint, without cause. His sister seemed more realistic. She probably resented him, which seemed natural to me. Refer back to the mother-thinks-he's-a-saint comment.
It was odd, though, that Nancy thought her brother's work ethic didn't include playing dirty tricks to get a job, yet she thought Paul was telling the truth when he said Duane had done so just to work on June's farm. I liked June and Carl, but shoveling poop and feeding animals wasn't much of a prize.
Agatha and Cecelia both disliked him, also without cause. June believed he was a part-time drunk, but only because he told her so.
Paul had a reason to want Duane out of the way, but he also had a solid alibi, unless the mayor was in on the murder. Unlikely.
That left Dymphna. The woman who loved him. The woman who Duane might have dumped in favor of Teri. The woman who looked unhappy at something Duane said in my vision. The woman who was seen driving past the mini mart on her way home from June's around the time Duane was killed.
Not looking good.
Feeling restless, I went back into the house. When I passed the den, I saw Agatha sitting on the couch with Dymphna, so I wandered in determined to manipulate information out of one or both. And forge a lasting relationship with two of Bowers' former guardians if possible.
They stopped talking and looked up at the outsider breaking into their private talk. My resolve to interrogate them dissipated and was replaced by an embarrassed flush that spread over my face as I sat down in June's chair.
“So, is this the weekend you were hoping for?” Probably too sarcastic for an opening line, I thought, but Agatha joined in.
“More than a weekend.”
With Kipper focused on a Bowers girl, all plans to return home had been cancelled.
“The weekend from hell,” I muttered.
Dymphna just sat and looked down at her folded hands.
“At least you can go home for a change of clothes, since you're only half an hour away.” I plucked at my purple sweater, which was making its second appearance.
She looked up. “How do you know where I live?”
Sucking in my bottom lip, I furiously considered how to get out of the mud puddle I'd stumbled into by trying to be pleasant. Reassuring, somehow, to know my dislike for mingling with people wasn't just the unfriendly preference of a woman who thought humans were often the pits but a wise tactic for keeping out of trouble. It's hard to stick your foot in your mouth if the latter isn't open.
What would Bowers do? Would he want Dymphna to know we were on to her? Or would he hold that card close until required? If only he'd discussed the subject last night like I wanted. Without his guidance, I flipped a mental coin and proceeded.
“When Bow—Marty and I were at the mini-mart last night, Susi mentioned she'd seen you drive by last Friday night. And of course I thought you came from out-of-town for the weekend, so Bowers—Marty—told me where you lived.”
She frowned.
“Generally. Just a vague idea.”
She stared at me with her mouth open. I squirmed in my chair. You would think we had searched her underwear drawer.
“It's not as if we went to your house or anything like that.”
She rallied, sat straight, and smiled. “I was checking in with June to find out when dinner was planned for the next night.”
I couldn't stop nodding my head and grinning, something Agatha noticed.
She narrowed her eyes. “That makes perfect sense.”
And I really wanted to agree with her and then invite them both to bake cookies or whatever gal pals did when they hung out, but I couldn't turn off my brain or shut my mouth. “Not really, because you were seen driving home around 8:00. We were all here, but you didn't come in.”
Agatha turned on me. “Well, maybe she saw we were busy and decided not to interrupt us.”
“But I didn't hear a car drive up. Did you?”
She snorted and mumbled. “Some people should mind their own business.”
“Who's business?” Bowers strolled into the room and Agatha glowered at him. “What did I do now?”
Dymphna stood. “I need some fresh air.”
When Bowers sent a questioning glance my way, I glowered too. If he had been willing to discuss our approach to Dymphna, I wouldn't be sitting here feeling like a crumb.
Marc called for his mother from upstairs, and she swept out of the room without another word. Bowers took her spot on the couch and sighed. “What have you been up to?”
“Making friends.”
“I can see that. Want to tell me about it?”
“It's not my fault. I was trying to make nice with your sisters, and then the subject of where Dymphna lived came up—”
He narrowed his eyes. “Came up how?”
I explained how talk had gotten around to Dymphna's apartment— innocently—and by the time I got to the bit about Mary seeing her on Friday night, Bowers was rubbing his eyes.
“It's not my fault! I wanted to discuss our game plan yesterday, partner.”
“Yes, you did.” He sat rubbing his knuckles together and thinking, and then he stood and held out a hand. “Well, partner, want to take a walk?”
He pulled me to my feet and put a comforting arm around my shoulder as we headed outside.
“It was sweet of you to try with my sisters. They aren't always the easiest to get along with.”
“Was Dymphna always . . . like she is now?”
“You mean flaky?”
I protested, but he squeezed my shoulder. “She started in on that airy-fairy stuff in high school. I think it's because she wanted to be different. Make her own mark. The rest of my sisters were . . .assertive.”
“How else is she different, other than her style of dress and the whispering? Does she drink tea made from roots she's gathered under a full moon?”
He laughed. “She likes her comforts. I can't see her running around in the dark and digging things up.”
“I don't even know what she does for a living.”
“She got a teaching degree but decided she didn't like children. At least not other people's children. Marc's the exception. Since then, she's flitted around trying things out. Right now, she works in a flower shop making arrangements.”
“I can see that. She has an eye for what goes together. Take her outfits. They wouldn't be my choice, but they go together, jewelry and all.” I sighed. “Not one of my gifts.”
This was the moment for Bowers to tell me he thought I looked fine the way I was, but he didn't. I don't think he'd heard a thing I'd said for the last few minutes, because he was focused on what lay ahead. We were approaching the Double Trouble.
Windy sprinted down the hill and greeted us with joyous barks, jumping on my leg until I picked her up. I pointed her butt away from me just in case Marc was right about how she got her name.
Dymphna appeared at the opening of the first cave, frowned, and then disappeared inside.
“Why don't you keep Windy company while I talk to my sister.”
“Nope. Partners, remember?” I handed him the dog. “You carry her. She's heavy.”
I led the way up the hill to the caves and entered the one I'd seen Dymphna standing in. Once inside, I had to let my eyes adjust, and even then, it took a minute to locate Bowers' sister.
She sat against the wall with her arms wrapped around her knees. In that position, I got a peek at the sulky teen she must have been. She glared at me and then looked away.
“Dym,” Bowers said from behind me. He set down the dog and approached her with his hands in his jean pockets, pausing a few feet from her. “So, you and Duane did come here.”
“I told you we didn't,” she muttered.
He crouched down and rested his elbows on his knees. “Just hanging out here because it's such a nice spot?”
“It's the only place I can get some peace. Or it was.”
Bowers sighed, stood, and walked to the wall. He slid down it until he was seated next to her. Windy scooted around the back passage into the neighboring cave, and I followed so they could have some privacy. I had a subtle exit in mind, but Wendy doubled back, and I tripped over her in the passage. They ignored my cry and the following thump, so I called out, “I'm alright,” just in case they cared.
The thing about caves is sound travels, so their conversation wasn't as private as they thought. I sat down and rested against the wall with the dog in my lap and pretended not to listen.
“I'm trying to help you.” That was Bowers.
“You could help me by leaving me alone.”
Big sigh. I recognized that frustrated noise as one Bowers regularly made around me.
“Okay, Dym. You're not a kid, so I'm going to be blunt. You were seen driving away from here the night Duane died. There's probably a good explanation, but people who don't know you as well as I do might think it looks funny.”
“Ha-ha.”
“I'm serious.”
“Mumble, mumble, mumble.”
I was relieved when Bowers said, “What?”
Dymphna raised her voice. “I said I came here to see him, but I couldn't find him.”
“Did you have a date?”
“Sort of.”
“Where were you going to meet?”
“At my place, but he didn't come.”
“Was it locked?”
“No.”
“Was it a mess inside?”
No answer.
“Dym, when I saw his place, it been searched. Did it look like that on Thursday night?”
“Searched? No. What would anyone be looking for?”
When she said this last bit, her voice was high and followed by a tinkling laugh. A lie.
“Anyway, he wasn't there, so I waited for a half hour, but he never showed. So, I went home. End of story.”
Susi saw Dym around eight o'clock. Duane had been dead for two hours. I gasped. If Bowers' sister didn't kill her boyfriend, did she find his body? No, no, no. The idea was too horrible. Plus, she would have raised the alarm.
I shifted my weight to adjust Windy, and my head brushed against a divot in the wall. I craned my neck to look and brushed at the rough spot to smooth it down, and the wall crumbled. At the center of the patch was a small hole that seemed too round to be natural. Since I'm not crazy enough to stick my finger into strange places and let creepy things gnaw on me, I felt around until I found a rock and then used that to dig. Imagine my surprise when a flattened bullet fell out.
