Chapter 13

Talk about being startled.

My first impulse was to run out the back door, climb into my van, and back out of the drive, steering with my left hand and calling 9-1-1 with my right.

But I stopped to think. What the heck kind of an intruder would break in to take a shower?

That made no sense at all. Except once our neighbor’s house had been entered by a homeless person who didn’t otherwise have access to a shower. In our neighborhood, just a mile off the interstate with its attraction to hitchhikers, that could happen. But it usually happened in the winter, when homeless people needed warm places. Currently, the weather was great; I wouldn’t expect people needing shelter to break into houses. And if they felt dirty, they could take a swim in Lake Michigan.

And it wasn’t likely that the person in the shower was Joe. He might have come home and decided to take a shower, but he wouldn’t use the upstairs shower instead of the one downstairs, adjoining our bedroom. Besides, his truck wasn’t there, at our house.

A friend? Did we know anyone who might drop by and decide to take a shower? Unlikely.

A relative? That seemed too odd even for our oddest relatives. And how would a friend or relative get in? Only a few of them had keys, and a quick circuit of the downstairs revealed that all the doors and windows were properly locked.

I could still hear the shower running as I decided to leave. I had exhausted the possibilities of people who might legitimately be taking a shower.

I grabbed my purse and ran out the kitchen door, headed for my van. I was opening its door before I noticed that the side door of the garage was firmly closed. I skidded to a stop. That door is usually slightly ajar; we have to slam it hard to get it to fit.

Our “garage” actually functions as a storage shed. The little building was built as a garage, true. But that was in the 1930s, when cars—and therefore garages—were much smaller than today. Neither my van, which doubles as a delivery truck for TenHuis Chocolade, nor Joe’s truck, which is big enough to haul an extra-long boat, would fit into that garage. We use the building to store things like yard furniture or picnic supplies. None of it is valuable, and we’re careless about closing it firmly.

Breaking into our house to take a shower was odd; breaking into a garage filled with hoes, rakes, and lawn chairs was even odder.

I changed the direction of my flight from my van to that door. I threw the door open and reached inside to turn on the light.

Inside was a red Volkswagen. Not an antique-ish one left over from the ’50s or ’60s. This one was bright, new—one of the final Beetles made. And I knew who owned it.

“Aha!” I believe I shouted, then I whirled and rushed back into the house. The shower was no longer running. I ran up the stairs, ignoring the amount of noise I was making, and I banged on the bathroom door.

“Dolly! Dolly!” I yelled the name. “What the heck are you doing here?”

The door flew open, and I was facing a giant with wild red hair sticking up in all directions. She had a huge blue towel draped around her as a sarong.

“Lee!” she boomed out. “What are you doing home this early? I thought I could get a shower and be all ready to surprise you!”

“We’ve been so worried! Where have you been all day?”

“I drove into Holland and went to a motel! I registered under my mother’s name. I had her credit card because I’d been doing some shopping for her. Then I decided it would be more fun to ask you and Joe to take me in!”

“I’d hug you if you weren’t so darn wet!”

“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be downstairs!” As usual, Dolly’s voice rumbled like thunder echoing over the lake.

“If I weren’t so glad to see you, I’d bawl you out,” I said.

“Be sure you pull the curtains! I don’t want your neighbors to know I’m here!”

By the time Dolly came downstairs—dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with dry hair—I had made iced tea. When I poured her a glass, she snatched it up and took a big slurp.

“I tried to do some work today,” she said.

“We got at least one e-mail. It gave Aunt Nettie and me hope that you were okay. Your note was vague.”

“When I wrote that note, my hideout plan was vague,” Dolly said.

“I’ve closed the dining room curtains. Let’s sit in there, and you can Tell All.” I shook a finger at her. “But you’ll have to whisper, Dolly. In case one of the neighbors walks up to the back door. We’ve done enough yelling.”

We sat down with our iced tea and Dolly began her report.

As I had already been told, during their talk the previous evening Joe and Hogan had concluded that Mike had been the possible target of the attack that had injured Watt. They had been calling members of the coffee club to ask about this when I called and told them Paige’s body had been discovered. Their continued discussion—as they drove back to Warner Pier—had convinced them that there was a serious possibility the two events were connected.

Plus, as Hogan heard more about the discovery of Paige’s body, he began to fear that Dolly had been seen by the two “lumpy” people who had been near the garage where Paige was found.

So before Joe and Hogan arrived on the scene in our alley, the two of them tracked Mike down by phone and urged him to hide out and stay hidden from whoever had injured Watt. Plus, they wanted him to take Dolly with him. “Hogan wanted Mike and me to leave Warner Pier,” Dolly said. “They thought we should take cover in some secluded place. I won’t mention just where because they might still use it.”

She frowned. “I said I’d go, but later—while I was packing a bag—Mike hatched a new plan.”

Dolly’s face screwed up with distress. “He thought we should take Watt Wicker with us!”

“Watt? What on earth for? I mean, Hogan could find another hiding place for Watt.”

Dolly shook her head. “It was some harebrained idea Mike had. I hadn’t even realized Mike and Watt knew each other! Apparently they had been friends for years. Mike had never mentioned this to me before but he claimed they were pals, and he thought that he could get more information out of Watt than Hogan could.”

I stared at Dolly for a few seconds. “Frankly, Dolly, that sounds silly. Hogan has a good reputation as an interrogator. He’s well known in law enforcement circles for getting information out of people.”

“I know. But most of those people were criminals. Mike thought that he and Watt might come up with some helpful information by collaborating. About midnight Mike called and dropped the idea on me!”

“So when Watt left the hospital in the middle of the night, he went with Mike?”

Dolly looked at me with eyes the size of bicycle tires. “You mean Mike actually took him?”

“I don’t know. I guess Watt went off with somebody.” I just stared back at Dolly.

Dolly shook her head. “Honestly! I really love that guy, but sometimes I don’t think he has the sense God gave a goose. Not that it’s going to matter after our last conversation!”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Lee! Mike and I had a terrible fight! I told him I wouldn’t go anywhere with them!”

“But that was the whole plan, Dolly.”

“Not originally! At first Mike made it sound like this romantic rendezvous. Then I find out I’ll be keeping house for him and Watt!”

“He and Hogan also wanted to keep you in a safe place.”

“I felt safe until I heard Mike’s plan.” Dolly frowned. “Oh, I guess I acted childishly. But Mike had never before mentioned even knowing Watt Wicker, Lee. Now all of a sudden he wants the three of us to hide out together?” She looked up at me and glared. “Now I’m afraid I’ll never see Mike again! And I’m not sure I want to!”

I didn’t answer, purely because I didn’t know what to say. Dolly didn’t say anything either. But she sighed deeply, stood up, and walked into the kitchen, where I keep a box of tissues. Maybe she thought that blowing her nose would clear her brain.

Maybe the little pause cleared mine, because I thought of a simple question.

“Dolly, we’re glad that you’re here, glad you thought of us as a place where you can take refuge. But why? How did you pick this old farmhouse for a spot to light?”

Dolly looked at me and smiled. “You’re the only people I know with a guest room!”

We both began to laugh. Then, before I could say anything more, I heard footsteps on the back porch. Joe’s voice called out, “I’m home!”

Dolly grabbed my arm with both hands. “Does Joe have to know I’m here?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “This is his house, too. You can wait in the stairwell in case he has someone with him.”

It was surprising how lightly Dolly could move as she ran for the stairwell. She flitted across the dining room and a corner of the living room and then disappeared behind the door that hid the steps to the second floor.

This had been one of Joe’s days at the law firm, so he was wearing a suit. I greeted him at the door with a kiss.

“Nice day?” I asked.

He looked puzzled. “You look more cheerful than you did when I left this morning.”

“I feel better. Dolly turned up.”

“She turned up? Where is she? And where had she been?”

I took his hand and led him into the living room. I threw open the door to the stairwell and made a dramatic gesture.

“Ta-da!”

“Dolly!” Joe yelled a greeting, and the three of us went into a group hug, rocking back and forth and mumbling words like “Thank God” and “I’m so glad!” and “You scamp! Where did you go?” as we made very little effort not to rouse the entire neighborhood.

After a full minute of hugging, Joe let go but kept an arm around each of us. “There’s only one bad thing about this reunion of pals,” he said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I have news. And it’s not good news. Since we’re all together, you two will have to hear it at the same time. The news is Watt Wicker has disappeared.”

“We know Watt left the hospital. It’s okay, Hogan thinks he’s just wandered off.”

“I’m afraid that idea has changed. Watt has really disappeared.”

Dolly’s voice got loud again. “But Mike agreed to keep him out of trouble!”

“Watt had mentioned Wildflower several times, and Mike thought the guy was headed out to her place, probably hitchhiking. Mike thought he would show up on her doorstep soon. But it’s been—well, at least three or four hours, and Watt is not at Wildflower’s. No one—not Wildflower, not Mike, not anybody else—seems to know where he is.”