CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

 

Dad left a maddening short message on the kitchen table: Went to see Elizabeth. Back soon.

How? With whom? For how long? Why? I hated not knowing the specifics. I left for school before he got up this morning and I already missed his sometimes irascible, sometimes understanding, sometimes snarky, always unpredictable character. Given enough time, I’d probably miss his cooking. I punched in his number. The phone rang from his room.

He broke promise number one already, I thought.

I knocked on Ida’s door. No answer. I punched in Ida’s phone number. It went to voicemail.

“Hi, Ida. I hope Dad is with you. His insufficient message has me wondering. Call me, please.”

I hadn’t heard any more about McCall’s murder, but Ida hadn’t yet been cleared. Who else would’ve had it in for him? His assistant? The history director? The lady trying to sneak a peek at the encaustic? His ex?

My stomach growled. I opened a frozen dinner and set the microwave for six minutes. After cooking, it could sit for another few minutes, so I grabbed Maverick’s leash and we jogged around the block.

The welcoming Italian aroma made my mouth water. I opened the microwave door and took out my supper but before I could close the door, Maverick lapped up the tasty marinara that had spattered the interior.

“Off, Maverick.” I guarded my dinner from his long tongue maneuvers while I retrieved his kibble. Then I sat down next to him with my bowl of pasta.

My charging phone chimed from the counter.

Ida sent an eight-word text: Your dad is with me. Back tomorrow. Love. I knew where, with whom, and how. I’d ferret out the why when they returned.

Dad’s measured recovery from his traumatic brain injury left a few lingering discrepancies between the dad of my youth and the dad of today. I loved having him here, but I worried about him every day. Elizabeth never cooked but I’d looked forward to holiday meals filled with Dad’s juicy grilled meats, roasted veggies, marinated fruits, multi-textured salads, fanciful beverages, and sweets fit for a confectionary, but now he cooked like me.

Dad exercised religiously, swimming and spinning at the Y, attending during daylight hours when he could catch a ride with Ida or me, call for a ride, or walk. He even accompanied Ida to dance. Every day he made progress.

With Dad in Ida’s capable hands tonight, my shoulders relaxed, and my mind drifted to calmer waters. I donned a pair of hot-pink flannel pajamas and stretched out on the sofa. Maverick crawled next to me; his head flopped onto my lap. I rubbed his velvety ears and fell asleep.

Maverick’s barking compounded by a loud rapping and yelling woke me. The hackles on Maverick’s neck stood at attention. I pulled him away from the back door and peered through the frosted window.

A square-jawed man stood on the landing, screaming obscenities, and rattling the handle. “It’s freezing out here. Lemme in, you old crone. You got no right to lock me out of the house.” He slurred his words.

The knob shook as he jammed a key into the deadbolt. I held the thumb turn with both hands, bowed my head, and prayed.

“Get your hands off the deadbolt.” He slowly spoke each word with a low snarl.

My heart leaped to my throat.

He shook the knob again, then stopped. The man swore and I heard him bang down the steps. I grabbed my phone from the countertop and punched 911 before clutching the dead bolt again.

“What’s the nature of your emergency?”

“Someone’s trying to break in,” I whispered.

“Address?”

“Three one four one North Maple Street. Hurry, please.”

The wood creaked. My shoulder felt a thud. He’d come back.

Maverick bark louder. I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the lever as the man scraped his way up to the door. He pounded and kicked at the toe plate. I pulled myself into a ball. It seemed like he sagged against the door and slid down, out of sight. The intermittent pounding continued but it came as if an afterthought.

My mouth dried up, but before the tears fell, a woman’s voice ordered, “Get up, Jordan. You’re not even at the right house.”

“Huh? What? Auntie Grace.” A male voice whined contritely. The rest of the words were unintelligible. He thumped against the door and the knob jiggled as he seemed to lift himself. Then I heard nothing.

I waited. I stood, lifted the corner of the blue gingham curtain, and peeked out the window. The underdressed husky man wobbled on the landing, then stumbled down the steps, clasping a lightweight jacket over his chest, and tottered after Miss Grace down the driveway, patting a messy head of hair.

Maverick licked my hand.

“Good boy,” I said and then he stood on his hind legs, put his forepaws on my shoulders and launched at my face. I almost toppled and couldn’t contain my giggles as his rough tongue lapped my cheeks and ears. “Maverick.”

I never fully understood if, when I treated his eventual good behavior landing on all four paws, was I reinforcing his recent bad behavior of standing up on his hind legs? Would he remember both actions? I certainly did. I reached for his treats anyway.

“Thanks for the heads up. Your alarm system is quite ingenious. But as for—”

A siren increased its volume four-fold when it turned onto our driveway and headlights bounced into the backyard. I glanced at the clock. Twelve twenty-five. Then I looked down at my attire and clutched the buttons in front. I snatched a puffy thermal jacket from the hook by the door, threw it over my shoulders, and shoved my arms in before the knock sounded.

I sent Maverick to his kennel and opened the door.

His right hand stopped in midair, clenching a glove. Ronnie Christianson stood, poised to knock again. “Katie, we received a report of a possible break in, but all looks pretty quiet to me.” Ronnie took one look at me and rolled his eyes.

Before I could come up with a retort, I noticed the key stuck in the lock.

“A man tried to break in.” I pointed to the key. “I held the dead bolt on my side, and he yelled at me to let go. He sounded drunk. But then Miss Grace arrived, and he followed her home. I guess she knows him.”

“Who else has a key?”

“My dad and Ida,” I said. I leaned forward for a better look at the key in the door. “I don’t have a Yale lock.”

“How long has this guy been gone?” Ronnie said. He jostled the key and removed it—without gloves. There went any fingerprints. My breath hitched.

Ronnie frowned at my reaction. I dropped my eyes and concentrated on my cold bare toes. “He left right after I called.”

Ronnie’s voice took on a slight edge. “Our response time holds records, Katie.”

“It’s only been a few minutes. Anyway, I think he might have been Miss Grace’s visiting relative.” I looked up, waiting for a reaction.

Ronnie’s left eyebrow flew to his sparse hairline. He leaned back and rested his arms over his stomach.

“Ida and Dad met him last night. Just before you arrived, Miss Grace claimed him.” Ronnie seemed to think I might be fabricating a story.

“I’d like to talk to Ida and your dad.” He scratched his cheek.

“They’re not here.”

Ronnie sniggered.

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Where are they?”

I didn’t know if Ida had received orders from Ronnie not to leave the area and searched for a truthful answer that wouldn’t disclose her absence and get her in trouble when Maverick rattled his kennel. Ronnie’s hand fell to his sidearm and he looked toward the sound.

“That’s Maverick,” I said quickly.

Ronnie exhaled.

“Could you check on Miss Grace, please? She shouldn’t have been out in this frigid weather and the guy seemed pretty out of it.”

Ronnie regarded me casually. “Right.” The way he said it, the word had three syllables. He tossed the key and grabbed it in midair. “I’ll just do that.”

He tipped his hat. “Goodnight, Katie.”

I secured the door behind him and opened the kennel. It was Maverick and me against the world tonight.

My bedroom was a long way up the stairs and Maverick had already curled up on the couch. I joined him, pulled a well-worn quilt over my shoulders, hunkered down, and closed my eyes, but I kept wondering who would want Phillip McCall dead. Brock said he was grumpy. He had words with his assistant. His wife wasn’t in the picture. And the stunt he pulled at the gala almost backfired. I tried to keep my ears open for the rest of the night, but I never heard more from Ronnie.

I must have dozed. I missed the sun’s first peek at the day.