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Later that night I did what little research I could on Debbie’s realtor while Fred slept at my feet. How I envied dogs. I tried to remember the last time I’d slept more than four or five hours straight. I could only hope to come back as a golden retriever in my next life, but with my luck, it would be to a family in Indonesia where dogs are considered a delicacy.
The research wasn’t because I doubted Bonnie or her sister. I needed something more substantial to show Sergeant Cruz. The phone call had been from Cruz telling me she would be out in the morning to examine my walk boards. That’s when I had the bright idea to tell her about Debbie’s realtor, once I had more than hearsay to convince her that he had a motive to murder Debbie.
Eventually, I did confirm what Margot had told Bonnie about the lawsuit. I didn’t get all the details because the website wanted my credit card and a monthly subscription if I wanted the specifics, but it should be enough for Sergeant Cruz. I’m sure she has much better sources to check if I could convince her the realtor had a motive to do Debbie in.
It looked like the suit had become nasty. Debbie had won a judgment last year only to have it nullified by the bankruptcy court when Brendon filed for Chapter Seven bankruptcy. She appealed that decision claiming fraud. The appeal went in her favor, and Brendon Cole was back on the hook for a little over two hundred thousand.
It must have been around ten or so when I forgot about Mr. Cole. Someone sent me an email in response to the ad I put on Craigslist for the motor home. “Looks like we hooked a live one, Freddie. He wants to come out tomorrow to check it out. Do think you can get up before ten tomorrow?”
Fred opened his eyes and raised his head at the mention of his name. He made me feel bad for waking him.
***
SERGEANT CRUZ WOKE me Tuesday morning around nine. “Mr. Martin?” she asked after I stumbled to answer the phone. I had forgotten I’d placed it on my dresser to charge overnight, and nearly missed her call. Luckily, the dresser is in the corner of my bedroom. If the phone had been downstairs on my desk, I would have missed the call altogether.
I managed to clear my throat before answering. “Yes.”
“Something’s come up and I’ll have to postpone my visit this morning. Are you free this afternoon?”
“I’d have to check my calendar. Can you hold a second?” Of course, I was free. The guy who wanted to check out the motor home should be long gone by then, but she didn’t need to know that. I counted to thirty before speaking again. “Looks like I’ll be home after two. I’m supposed to give a couple estimates this morning, but my afternoon is free. Does that work?”
“See you then,” she said and disconnected.
Fred was at the door before I could end the call on my phone. He barked once before scratching it. “Okay, hold your horses, Freddie,” I said, and walked over to let him out. I didn’t have the heart to tell him we would be skipping breakfast at Bonnie’s. I only had a couple hours to clean up the motor home before the potential buyer showed up.
He barked again before I got to the door. This time, there was a hint of urgency in his bark. Most people would never be able to tell the difference, but since I had left the city and moved into our mountain cabin, I spent more time with Fred than I did with people. He had a bark for potty time, one for when he was hungry, another when he wanted to play, and most importantly, the one he just used telling me someone, or something, was out there.
The hair along Fred’s spine was standing straight up like a Mohawk, and he was growling. I couldn’t open the door or he would be out chasing whatever was out there, and I couldn’t take the chance it was a bear or mountain lion. I was wishing I’d put a window in my door when I grabbed him by the collar and opened it just enough to peek out to see what had him so upset.
He saw his chance, slipped out of the collar, and was out the door like a greyhound at the dog track when the gates are opened. “Fred! Get back here, now!” I might as well have yelled at the trees for what good it did.
There was a car on the road next to my shed spitting out so much dirt and gravel that I couldn’t tell what it was. Whoever it was, fled the scene when he heard Fred coming. But Fred was smarter than the intruder and ran down toward Bonnie’s to try and catch him on the lower road. If Fred were to come back as a greyhound in his next life, the rabbit wouldn’t stand a chance. I took off running down the hill after Fred, yelling for him to stop. Bonnie must have heard all the commotion. She was standing on her deck in her pajamas as Fred raced after the cloud of dust.
Fred came back defeated by the time I made it down to Bonnie’s but continued to bark at the car that was long gone. “What were you thinking, Freddie? You could have been killed!”
He took a break from barking at the car, and looked up at me, smiling. I imagine he would have said, “I did good, huh, Dad?” if he could talk.
“What’s that all about, Jake?” I hadn’t seen Bonnie come down from her deck, for my back had been turned to her while I was scolding Fred. Somehow, she had found time to rush back inside and get a robe to cover her pajamas. It didn’t seem to help though, for she was shivering in the cold, mountain air.
“Why don’t you get dressed and drive on up, Bon? I’ll tell you about it over some hot coffee.”
She turned to go back into her house, stopped after a few feet and turned back to face me. “Why can’t you tell me now, Jake? Was that Lisa? Did she spend the...” She paused long enough for me to know she was searching for the right word that wouldn’t offend me.
“Lisa? Why on earth would you think it was her?”
Bonnie couldn’t look me in the eyes. “I... Well, I assumed... I mean how many people do you know with Missouri plates?”
“The car had Missouri plates?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No. I barely saw it before Fred took off. It was parked between my motor home and the shed.”
Bonnie looked up quickly and grabbed my arm. “My God, Jake. Don’t tell me you had another break in?” Her touch caught me off guard. She reminded me so much of how my mother had acted the time I’d been in a fight with the class bully and lost.
“We’re okay, Bon. He was parked by my shed, but Fred scared him off before he had a chance to break in. At least I think that’s what happened. I need to get back up there and check it out.”
She leaned in closer, running her tongue over her lips. “Promise me you’ll wait until I get there. It won’t take me long to get dressed, and I keep Greg’s old revolver in the closet. I’ll bring it just in case.”
I had already started back up the hill but stopped at the mention of the gun. She had told me stories about how Greg won several quick-draw trophies in his younger days. If that was the gun she meant, I doubted if she knew how to use it. They were single-action revolvers that required the shooter to cock the hammer manually for each shot.
“He’s gone, Bon. You won’t need Greg’s old gun, but you may want to bring Jack Daniels to warm your coffee.”
***
FRED AND I DIDN’T WAIT for Bonnie. We went straight to my shed once we’d climbed the hill up to my cabin. I went over and checked the padlock; it hadn’t been broken or smashed. Fred took it upon himself to check out my scaffold and pile of two by twelves I used for walk boards. I was still testing the lock when he barked.
I went over to see what he found. “What’s up, Freddie? Chatter making a nest for the winter?” Chatter was the name Bonnie had given a local squirrel Fred couldn’t catch.
He looked at me to make sure he had my attention then pointed at the boards with his nose. All of a sudden I felt like someone had punched me in the chest, I knew without looking at it, that the writing on the walk board would be destroyed. There was a can of spray paint lying on the ground next to the boards.
I went over and checked anyway. Debbie’s message, or what I thought had been a message, was covered in red paint. I bent over to rub Fred’s head and pick up the can of paint when I heard a car pull into my driveway. I couldn’t see who it was because my motor home blocked the view. When I felt the muscles in Fred’s back stiffen, I knew it wasn’t Bonnie, so I assumed it was the guy who wanted to see my motor home.
***
THE VEHICLE PARKED in my driveway wasn’t a car. It was a decked out Hummer with huge wheels and darkly-tinted windows. The wheels had some kind of fancy hubcaps or spinners that continued to spin long after the beast had come to a stop. My ex would have called it a pimp mobile. I approached the Hummer holding Fred with one hand and the spray can with the other. I held him by the nape of his neck because his collar was still in my cabin where I’d left it after he’d slipped out of it. I knew he wouldn’t hurt the guy, but I wasn’t so sure about strangers hurting Fred. I nearly let him go when I saw who got out of the car.
“Nice wheels, Sergeant. That must have set your department back a pretty penny.”
She didn’t smile or look at me. She peeked over the sunglasses she was wearing, looking at the paint can. “Don’t worry, Mr. Martin. It didn’t raise your taxes. Not even an ugly penny. It was confiscated during a drug bust. I knew I’d need four-wheel drive up here. My sedan would be destroyed on these roads.”
This wasn’t going well. I needed to get her on my side before telling her about the walk board. “I didn’t mean to get you riled up, Sarge. Just making small talk.”
She raised her left hand, pointing at the spray paint. “Would you mind putting that down? And it’s Sergeant Cruz. I’m not a marine.”
“It’s just paint, Sergeant Cruz,” I said but threw it aside anyway. “I didn’t expect to see you so early. I thought we had a two o’clock appointment.”
“And I thought you had some estimates to give this morning.” She pushed her glasses to the tip of her nose with her right index finger and stared straight into my eyes. She couldn’t be more than five eight to my six two, but she made me feel small.
I was rescued from coming up with a smart answer when Bonnie came racing into my drive and parked behind the Sergeant’s pimp mobile. We both turned to look. Fred broke loose of my grip and ran past the Sergeant to greet Bonnie, with his tail wagging like he hadn’t seen her in a week.
Bonnie was out of her Cherokee and heading toward us when Fred ran up to her. She bent down to pet him. “Hello, Freddie. Did you miss me already?”
Cruz removed her sunglasses and smiled for the first time since she’d arrived.
I welcomed the opportunity to change the subject. “Sergeant, I’d like you to meet a good friend and neighbor of mine, Bonnie Jones.”
Bonnie stood up slowly, bracing her back with her right forehand before walking over to us. “Glad to meet you, Sergeant. Jake has told me so much about you,” she said, extending her hand.
“Oh?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Has he now?”
I cut in before Bonnie repeated something I’d said, and shouldn’t have. “About your work on the case. I was telling her how you thought Debbie’s death was an accident, and not due to foul play.”
Bonnie wasn’t listening. Her eyes were focused on Sergeant Cruz’s left hand. I had already noticed the lack of a wedding band, so I prayed Bonnie didn’t get any ideas about matchmaking. “That’s because he’s a mystery writer. And a pretty good one, if you ask me. He may not have a lot right now, but wait until some New York publisher discovers him. He’d be a great catch, he would.”
“I’m sure the Sergeant didn’t come here to hear about my writing, Bon. Did you, Sergeant?” I could only hope Cruz hadn’t followed Bonnie’s train of thought. I knew she had jumped the track and was saying I’d be a good husband, but with luck, the Sergeant would think she meant a great catch for the publisher.
Cruz laughed, then bit her lip to hide her smile. “No, I didn’t, Mr. Martin. Though I’d love to hear more, I need to see that walk board with the message you told me about.”