The next morning, I walked downstairs at Mrs. Janowski’s house, smiling at the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm blueberry muffins.
My headache had diminished considerably, leaving only a slight trace that I was sure a cup of coffee would wash away. Last night, I slept soundly, aided by Mrs. Janowski’s sleep concoction. A good night of sleep had been refreshing. I wished Brett would do the same. Reflecting on last night, he didn’t look healthy. He appeared thinner, almost ragged.
But I didn’t want to think about him. I was too confused as to where we left things. It was something to sort out in a couple of days when he’d have a team of employees and more time.
Walking into the sunny kitchen, I was confronted with a bustling eighty-year-old who zoomed around the kitchen in preparation of something. Emmy was there too, looking worse off than Brett.
“Emmy, I thought you were going home.”
“What’s the point?” Her eyes threatened to spout water. “T stopped calling and texting. He probably found a different girlfriend already. He can pick any of them at Longhorn’s.” Tears bubbled down her cheeks. “What can I offer him that a stripper can’t?”
I looked to Mrs. Janowski for help.
“I already told her she’s being a ninny,” Mrs. Janowski said. “But she won’t listen. That boy is head over heels in love with her.”
I knew that. The whole world knew that. However, how would Emmy know that? She was practically pushed from her job. Neither of the boys backed her up, giving Emily the run of the office; how was that a demonstration of love?
“Do you have a brush?” I asked Emmy. Maybe if she straightened her hair it’d help make her feel better. The nest that was forming had to be unpleasant.
“A shower would be refreshing,” Mrs. Janowski suggested, with an undercover wave of her hand in front of her nose.
“I don’t feel like it,” Emmy said.
“Are you sure? We have a big day ahead of us,” Mrs. Janowski said. “I can’t wait. The majority of training will be today. I’ll get my guard card and concealed carry permit.”
“Do you want to be a security guard?” I asked.
“No, but B and T Security might get some competition.”
I nodded, letting the conversation slide. Mrs. Janowski was their future problem, not mine.
“What are you making?” I asked, helping myself to coffee and a warm muffin.
“Sandwiches, right now. I have potato salad chilling in the refrigerator. We’ll need to pick up plates, napkins, and plasticware on the way.”
I nodded again. I was ready for the day and whatever Mrs. Janowski threw at me. Emmy, however, sat listlessly at the table, crumbling her muffin into her cold coffee.
Mrs. Janowski paused from slapping ham onto bread slices. “I’ve been thinking about that Spooner character.”
“Don’t think about Spooner,” I said. “The police are working on it.”
“But he’s somehow involved with Ida. Why else would he be so determined to get her daughter’s necklace? I watched your house all last night to see if he’d come back.”
“Did he?”
“Not that I saw.” She shrugged and resumed peeling ham slices and slapping them onto bread. “I did rest my eyes for a bit.”
I smiled, knowing very well what that meant. And that was fine with me. I didn’t need her to watch my house.
“Come on, Emmy,” I said. “Let’s get you ready for the day. We’ll need your help at the senior center.”
“Why should I help?”
“Because you look like hell, Brett looks like hell, and T probably looks like hell too. The only person who still looks decent is Emily. We can’t let her win, can we?”
“I guess not. But we’re still helping her too.” She slowly shoved away from the table and stood.
Mrs. Janowski saluted me as I followed Emmy out of the kitchen and upstairs.
“Do you have clothes here?” I asked.
“Nothing I want to wear. It’s all office clothes. I wasn’t thinking when I packed.”
“You can borrow some of Mrs. J’s.”
She leaned in to whisper. “But those are old people clothes. What if I see T today? He can’t see me in old people clothes.”
“Oh,” I stepped back. “We need to find you a toothbrush too.”
I pondered for a moment. I had extra toothbrushes at home, as well as an outfit that was too small for me. But, did I take a chance with going home? I wasn’t sure if I had set the alarm. What if Spooner broke in again?
After an internal pep talk, I decided to go home and get the necessary items. I’d have to go home eventually. A sunny morning seemed like a perfect time.
On my way out, Mrs. Janowski loaned me ol’ Bessie in case I needed it while she continued to prepare lunch.
Emmy offered to go along but was so droopy that I let her stay where she was.
As I walked across the street, I scanned the driveway and exterior, looking for signs that someone was around. I continued up the walkway and jogged up the porch stairs. The door was closed, but when I went to insert the key, I found that it was already unlocked. Did I forget to lock it?
Still standing on the porch, I swung the door open wide. No alarm. I clutched ol’ Bessie, my finger poised on the trigger. I knew it wouldn’t save me from an intruder set to kill me, but it would deter anyone else. I’d found out firsthand that paintballs packed a stinging punch.
My feet didn’t cross the threshold.
I couldn’t detect movement in the house. The living room and kitchen were dark from the drawn shades. I reached in and flipped the light switch, relieved to find the house how I had left it. The furniture was in the same spot. Some debris from the break-in was still evident since I didn’t bother with a full cleaning. I wouldn’t bother with it today either.
Heading upstairs to my room, I stopped on the landing. The bedroom door was closed. I always kept it open unless I was inside.
With the door unlocked downstairs and my bedroom door closed upstairs, I no longer was brave enough to forge ahead on my own. I turned and raced back to Mrs. Janowski’s house and didn’t stop until I was in the kitchen.
Panting, I choked out, “Someone might be in my house.”
“We have more problems than that,” Mrs. Janowski said, nodding over to the corner of the room.
Ida.
“Ida, what are you doing here? Did you escape?”
Mrs. Janowski walked over to Ida with a mug of coffee and handed it to her.
Ida thanked her and took a sip, sighing. “That’s good.” She placed the mug on the table before saying, “I was just telling Irene here what happened.”
I tried not to stare slack-jawed at Ida, but I couldn’t help it. “What happened?”
“I was released early this morning.”
“Why? I mean, that’s good but—”
She waved off the start of an awkward ramble. “The body they exhumed isn’t Wade’s.”
“Whose is it? Where’s Wade?”
“I don’t know the answer to either of those questions.”
I sat down across from her. “I think I might. Mrs. J might agree with me, but I think Wade might be alive, posing as a detective. He’s searching for the necklace.”
“What?” Her confusion was instant, and I realized she had missed a lot while she was in jail.
Quickly filling her in on what I knew, which wasn’t much, I explained why I thought Wade was detective Spooner. “I don’t suppose you have a picture of Wade?” I asked when I ended my long-winded summary.
“A picture?” Ida snorted. “I burned everything that jerk had ever been of a part of or touched.” She sobered. “Except one.”
“One what?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. However, if you’re looking for distinguishing features, his left eye is darker than his right.”
Hank had mentioned eyes when I told him about Spooner. Did he suspect? But how? Was it because of the necklace?
“It was too dark to see his eyes properly,” I said. “But he was desperate for the necklace. Since he didn’t find it at my place, he might try Hank’s next.”
“We should warn him,” Mrs. Janowski said.
“Warn him?” Ida barked. “He and Wade can go rot in hell together.”
“What happened back then?” I asked. “Why did you want to kill Wade? And how is he not dead?”
“I hit the jerk over the head with a booze bottle, knocked him right out. I didn’t realize that he’d landed on a rock. I left the bastard where he was. When I came back an hour later, he was still there. By then blood had saturated the ground around him.”
“And then what?”
“I couldn’t feel a pulse, so I panicked and buried him.”
“How did he dig himself out?” Mrs. Janowski asked.
“You saw the hole,” I said. “Rand was barely-ankle deep when we found the body. I’m guessing Ida didn’t pack down the dirt.”
We both looked to her for confirmation.
Ida shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking clearly and just wanted to hide him. I never thought about digging deeper or packing dirt. The lot was scheduled to be paved the next day.”
“All right,” I said, sitting back. “So, Wade is alive and wants the necklace. Why? What’s significant about the necklace?”
“I don’t know,” Ida said.
“I think you do know,” I countered. “Why don’t you talk ever about your daughter?”
“I do talk about her.”
“Not really. No one knows her name. Does Jack at least know it?”
“Of course he does.”
“You raised him, right?”
She stayed silent.
“Ida, we’re trying to help. Wade wants your daughter’s necklace. Why?”
Again, she remained silent.
“Fine,” I sighed. “You obviously don’t want to speak to us about it. Is there someone that you’d rather talk to?”
“No.”
Mrs. Janowski frowned, returning to her sandwiches. “Okay, you don’t have to tell us. But please let us know how we can help right now.”
“I just need a place to hide for a couple of days.”
“Done,” I said, feeling at least a little useful. “Brett still has that little cottage in the woods just outside of town. I’m sure you can stay there.”
“That’d be great,” Ida said. “Thank you.”
“I’ll call the girls,” Mrs. Janowski said. “We’ll guard it around the clock.”
“Won’t that draw attention?” I asked.
“In the woods? The only people lurking in the woods would be the ones we’d have to secure against. Go ahead and make the call to Brett.”
Oh.
I hadn’t wanted to talk to him yet. Things were awkward enough without having to ask for a favor. But, I guess it wasn’t right to use his house without asking.
“Mrs. J, why don’t you call him?”
“He’ll say no for sure.”
I stood. “I’ll make the call in the living room.” I had the feeling the request might take a bit of groveling. I didn’t need witnesses.
However, I worried for nothing. My call went straight to voicemail. I left a message saying Ida would be heading over to the house right away and to call if that would be a problem.
By the time the girls were assembled, it was an hour later. We piled into Edna’s car since Mrs. Janowski’s was in the shop. It was a tight fit compared to the spacious quarters in the blue tank.
“Stop elbowing me,” Ida demanded.
“I’m not doing it on purpose,” Sylvia said.
“Then stop gawking in the mirror for god’s sake.”
“I didn’t have time to put my makeup on.”
“You don’t need makeup. We’re going to a cabin in the woods.”
When we reached the cabin’s driveway, Edna turned and headed down the path. Sunlight flickered through leaves, reminding me of how I loved this tiny house with the cozy couch sitting in front of the fireplace. The lone bedroom just a few paces away.
As Edna drove farther down the drive, two vehicles came into view. Brett’s Viper was parked next to a compact car embellished with a personalized license plate.
CINAMN.