Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Famous last words. 

It was 11:00 p.m. and I was lying flat on the ground, under a hedge, staring across the street at Lyle Cox’s house, praying that he did something a murderer might do. So far, he’d sat in his recliner in the living room, drunk beer, and watched two hours of sports television, which looked pretty darn nice from where I sat. Or lay. 

Due to my training, my body could take hours of immobility, so my muscles hadn’t started to cramp, but my mind was ready to leak out my ear and go do something of interest. Anything but sit here another two hours getting eaten alive by the biggest mosquitoes God had ever created. Seriously, I’d been in aircraft that was smaller. 

Ida Belle and Gertie were faring worse than me. Ancient bones didn’t like being cramped on the ground under a bush, and since Ida Belle was the only one who exercised with any regularity, my guess was Gertie would be walking like the Hunchback for days to come. Still, I had to give them points for not complaining. I’d worked with CIA agents who weren’t as durable as the two senior citizens beside me.

“If he’s not going to do anything worth watching, I wish he’d pass out or something,” Ida Belle said.

“It’s probably our luck he’s a night owl,” I said.

“Or a vampire,” Gertie said.

A vampire wouldn’t be the oddest thing I’d seen in Sinful, so I left the possibility open. I saw movement through the window and got more excited than the situation truly warranted. “Look. He’s moving.”

All three of us stared at the window like children looking through the glass storefront of a candy shop Lyle, who’d finally risen from his recliner, now stretched, then headed out of the living room and out of our view.

“He’s probably just going to pee,” Gertie said. “He’s drunk a six-pack at least.”

Given that he hadn’t turned off the television or the living room lights, I figured she was right, but a girl could still dream. After several minutes, my dreams began to fade back into reality.

“Good Lord,” Ida Belle said. “How long is he going to be in the bathroom?”

“A six-pack worth?” Gertie suggested.

I said a silent prayer that he hadn’t fallen asleep on the john or passed out on the bathroom floor. Otherwise, it was going to be a long night of nothing. 

I’d convinced Walter to keep the tidbit about the lab tests to himself, then I sweated the rest of the evening, worried that Carter would show up at Ida Belle’s house to arrest her. My rationale was that if Gertie and Ida Belle knew how close Ida Belle was to the clink, their stress level would go up significantly. And stress led to mistakes.

Walter hadn’t been happy at all as he saw our silence as basically colluding to lie by omission. I told him I had a really good reason for my request and that if I told him why, he’d then become a party to something illegal. I’m not sure which part he was unhappier about, but he said he’d trust me this time. The unspoken understanding was that if I blew it, I was in the negative with Walter when it came to trust.

No pressure, right?

I was just about to decide that Lyle had gotten the munchies and was in the kitchen fixing a casserole, or maybe an entire Thanksgiving spread, when a light went on upstairs. I grabbed Ida Belle’s sleeve and pointed. 

“Maybe he’s going to bed,” I suggested.

“With all the lights and the television on downstairs?” Gertie asked. “That’s such a waste of electricity.”

“He just drank half a bar,” Ida Belle said. “I don’t think he’s thinking about his electrical consumption. The room with the light is the master bedroom.”

“Should I even ask how you know that?” I asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ida Belle said. “If I won’t marry Walter, why would I have sex with Lyle?”

“Good point.”

“He inherited the house from his mother,” Ida Belle said. “She passed a year ago. Do you really think he cultivated those roses or painted the shutters purple? He’s let the place go to pot, but the bones of something beautiful are still there.”

“If she can see how ratty her roses have gotten,” Gertie said, “Martha is probably turning over in her grave.”

Ida Belle nodded her agreement.

We waited what seemed like forever, but was probably only a couple of minutes, and the light upstairs went off. I watched the downstairs closely, but didn’t see movement again. 

“I think he may be wasting electricity,” I said.

“He hasn’t come back downstairs,” Ida Belle agreed.

“We didn’t see anything at all that will help,” Gertie said, her voice a bit strained. “I feel like we ought to do something besides go home.”

I did too, but I’d been hoping Lyle would be gone when we arrived at his house. My idea was much riskier with him in residence, especially as he had the look of a man who wouldn’t think twice about shooting a trespasser, but we were running out of time and options.

“Does he have a shed out back like you, Ida Belle?”

“Sure, most people do. Not like anyone wants a lawn mower in their living room, and these one-car garages don’t hold much else but one car.”

“I think we should look in his shed and see if there’s something in there with the same chemical makeup as the poison taken from your shed.”

Ida Belle frowned. “That’s a bit of a long shot, isn’t it? And risky, even by our standards. Lyle will shoot first and ask questions later if he catches us in his backyard.”

I squirmed a bit, trying to come up with a valid reason for taking such a risk that wasn’t the real reason I was willing to take the risk. “I’m just hoping to find a way to pin something on one of the other suspects, and Lyle is the most likely at this point. Even if we can throw suspicion on someone else, that will make a case against you weaker.”

Ida Belle narrowed her eyes at me. Crap. I’d said too much and Ida Belle was too shrewd to miss the implication.

“The lab tests came back, didn’t they?” she asked.

Gertie sucked in a breath. “No. Fortune wouldn’t keep something like that from us.” Then her expression wavered and a bit of doubt crept in. “Would you?”

Damn it.

I blew out a breath. “Yes, the lab test came back. And the poison Carter took from Ida Belle’s is a match.”

“How did you find out?” Ida Belle asked.

“And why didn’t you tell us?” Gertie chimed in.

“How I found out is irrelevant, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you even more stressed when we were out here tonight. Stress leads to a clouded mind, which leads to mistakes.”

They both stared at me, completely silent.

“I promise I was going to tell you as soon as we were done spying on Lyle.”

Finally, Ida Belle sighed. “I get it, and it’s sorta sweet how you’re trying to protect me and Gertie, but it’s not necessary. We’re two tough old birds. We can handle this. I promise you.”

“Okay,” I said. “Then the bottom line is, my guess is that unless we can give him another option to muddy the waters, Carter will arrest you tomorrow. Once the prosecutor sets his sights on you, it’s going to be twice as hard to get him to look elsewhere.”

“Crap,” Gertie said.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “So if we can find another match for the poison, it would be great.”

“And if we can’t?” Ida Belle asked. “The reality is, anyone in Sinful could have walked into my backyard and taken the poison.”

“True, but it’s worth a look.”

“And if we don’t find anything and Carter arrests Ida Belle?” Gertie asked.

I blew out a breath. “Then I gather up everything we have—Ted’s true identity, the pictures—and I take it all to Carter and fess up.”

Ida Belle shook her head. “I can’t allow you to do that. You’ll blow your cover.”

“Then I’ll do it,” Gertie said.

I knew Carter would never buy that Gertie did all the things we’d done alone. He’d know I was involved regardless of who knocked on his door and handed him a bag of evidence, but I didn’t see the point in drawing out a losing conversation any longer. 

“That might work,” I said.

Ida Belle cut her eyes at me and I knew I hadn’t fooled her at all, but Gertie looked temporarily mollified, so I left it at that. 

“So it’s settled,” I said. “I take a peek in his shed.”

“You’re not going alone,” Ida Belle said. “You don’t even know what you’re looking for.”

“If she’s going, I’m going,” Gertie said. “You can’t make me stay.”

I hated to agree with Ida Belle, but she was right. I wasn’t an expert on homeowner poisons. 

“Fine, but if he starts shooting, we get the hell out.”

“That’s a given,” Ida Belle agreed.

“You never know—” Gertie started.

I held up a hand to stop her. “I know. I don’t need a reminder. I think we should skirt down the back side of this hedge and cross the street two houses down from Lyle’s. It’s darker there and gives us more cover.”

They both nodded so I backed out from under the bushes and started down the back side of them until I reached the next yard. Ida Belle and Gertie were right behind me, so I continued my progress down the street, then across, then back toward Lyle’s house, until we’d finally slipped around the corner and down the side of his house toward his backyard gate.

I checked to make sure Ida Belle and Gertie were in position behind me, then pushed open his gate just enough for us to slip through, then eased myself inside. The back porch light cast a dim glow over the backyard, and I was pleased to have enough light to work with but not a spotlight that illuminated the entire lawn. 

Ida Belle pointed to the storage shed in the back right corner of the yard and we skirted the yard, keeping close to the fence and outside of the glow of the porch light. When we reached the shed, I was pleased to find it wasn’t locked. Which seemed stupid, given the situation Ida Belle was in, which then reminded me that my own shed wasn’t locked, and it’s something I needed to address first thing in the morning. Given that she had a hidden arsenal inside the house, God only knew what Marge had tucked away in the shed.

I opened the shed door enough to get my arm around and click on my penlight. I peered inside and shone the light around the shed. It didn’t have a window, which definitely helped us avoid detection, but given the somewhat haphazard state of the shed, I wasn’t comfortable breaking out a bigger light. Cracks revealed lighting inside an enclosure just as easily as a window did. 

I crept inside, careful not to upset any of the cans, tools, and other items stacked randomly throughout the shed. I looked back at the door as Ida Belle poked her head in and motioned to her to join me. 

“Take a look around and see if you see anything you think may have the same chemical makeup as the poison in your shed.”

Ida Belle nodded and clicked on her penlight, scanning the stacks of cans, bottles, and bags. Gertie slipped through the door and joined her, squinting in the dim light. Since she still wasn’t wearing her glasses, I had doubts she could see anything much beyond shapes, but apparently, Gertie’s promises to comply with corrective vision were fictional.

“What is that brown bag over there?” Ida Belle said and pointed to a bag to the left of me.

I shone my light on it. “Ant poison?”

Ida Belle shook her head. “Not the same chemical makeup.”

“What about over here?” Gertie asked, and pointed to the right side of the building about five feet back from where she was standing.

Ida Belle shone her light to where Gertie pointed and that’s when all hell broke loose. The snake that had been draped on a beam at the top of the shed was apparently tired of our noise and lights and dropped straight down on Gertie.