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I was more worried that Bonnie would have a heart attack than wet her pants, so I decided to tell her without any more theatrics. “He says Debbie’s death was no accident and says her boyfriend, Ryan Best, did it.”
Bonnie’s right leg began to vibrate. I couldn’t see it, but could feel the table shake. “What? You’re not buying any of that, are you? I think he’s trying to blow smoke up your butt, Jake. He killed her to get out of paying her.”
The vibration suddenly stopped. “But what was that I heard about a thousand dollars?”
“He heard about the murders we solved last year and wants to hire us to prove that Ryan did it.”
Bonnie was about to take a drink of her cider, but paused, holding the cup in midair. “Us? He wants to pay me, too?” Sunlight bounced off her wedding band onto Fred, making him raise a paw to shield his eyes. Any other time she would have noticed, but not this time.
“And that’s just a retainer. Said he’d give us another thousand if we can nail the perp. His words, not mine,” I said, reaching down to scratch Fred’s head.
“Fred should have been a cat,” Bonnie said. “Kitty used to push herself against me the same way he does.”
The shock of being paid must have passed, or so I thought. “Is that a thousand each?”
“I didn’t ask, but you already knew that.”
She raised the cup to her lips and took a long sip. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, Jake. It’s not my fault sound travels the way it does in this chilly air.”
“Sorry, Bon. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t turn him down. I could really use a little extra right now.”
I didn’t mention she wasn’t alone in that category.
“I wonder why Sergeant Cruz changed her mind?” she asked.
I had to blink a few times before I got the connection. “That she thinks it's murder and not an accident?”
“Of course. What did you think I thought she thought?”
“Are you trying to give me a brain fart, Bon?”
She tilted her head the way Fred had. If I didn’t know better I’d have thought she wanted me to pat her on the head, too. “She left here less than two hours ago,” I said. “There is no way she could have stopped to interrogate him, and until a few hours ago she was convinced it was an accident. It doesn’t smell right.”
“You’re not going to turn down the money, Jake. Please don’t do that.”
“You’re assuming he has the money to pay us. Are you forgetting he filed for bankruptcy recently and he still owes two hundred thousand to whoever gets Debbie’s estate?”
“That would be your girlfriend, Lisa. Wouldn’t it?”
“She’s not my girlfriend, Bon. I’ll admit I kind of liked her, but she’s a little too emotional for me.”
Her foot tapping started in again. “Well, he hasn’t paid her yet, so we should get the money while we can.”
“Whether he has it or not is a minor issue. There’s one major obstacle still in our way.”
“Which is?”
“We’re not licensed to do PI work, Bon. We could get into big trouble taking his money.”
Her tapping stopped. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, and with a huge smirk on her face, answered. “Not anymore, silly. Colorado dropped that requirement when you were in kindergarten. I guess you were too young to remember.”
“Or care,” I said.
Bonnie ignored my remark and went on with the history lesson. “We were the first to license PIs but dropped it in seventy-seven because it was ruled unconstitutional. I think I read somewhere that they started licensing again a few years ago, but now it’s voluntary.”
“How do you know all this, Bon. I know you used to teach school, but that’s not the kind of subject they teach in middle school.”
“Junior High...They called it Junior High, back then.”
“I stand corrected.”
“I took some creative writing classes at a JC. It was a night class for people who wanted to write mystery novels.”
“Really? How come you never mentioned it before?”
Bonnie turned her head, looking off toward Mount Evans. “I don’t know, Jake. I didn’t have what it takes and it was more to save my sanity than anything else. After Dianne died...”
This conversation was going the wrong way. Bonnie was close to tears. Her daughter had died in a hit and run accident over twenty-five years ago and she never got over it. “Tell you what, Bon Bon,” I said in the cheeriest voice I could muster. “How about I call him back and tell him we’ll meet tomorrow and he can give us the retainer then?”
It seemed to work. Her eyes had turned red, but she was able to manage a smile.
***
BRENDON COLE AGREED to meet us at my cabin on Wednesday morning when I told him I couldn’t make it into town for a few days. It was none of his business that I expected the lab boys to retrieve my walk board in the afternoon, so I told him I was in the middle of a manuscript rewrite for my editor. He also didn’t need to know my manuscript was no more than a few scribbled notes. But he did seem eager to meet us, and when he reiterated he’d be glad to give us a retainer, I suggested he come up to my cabin first thing in the morning.
Bonnie was making small talk as we sat on my deck, drinking coffee, and waiting for Brendon. We had just finished breakfast. It was the first time I’d seen her wear makeup in ages. She had chosen to highlight her cloudy blue eyes with a darker blue liner and had some kind of foundation that hid most of her wrinkles. She even had on a dress I hadn’t seen since the time she’d talked me into going to her church. It made me wonder if she was trying to dress as Ms. Marple. If she was, I’d blown it for her with my blue jeans and a long sleeve, wool shirt, for I doubt if Ms. Marple had any lumberjacks in her family.
Bonnie picked up her plate from the deck after Fred had cleaned it for her. “I don’t think I’ve ever had pigs in a blanket made with toaster waffles. Honey instead of syrup was a nice touch, too. Is this your own recipe, Jake?”
“Just some leftovers I threw together. I haven’t had a chance to run to the store, and if Brendon doesn’t show up pretty soon we’ll be eating squirrel.” I expected that would get Fred’s attention, but he was too intent on waiting to see if Bonnie had anything else she didn’t want to eat.
Bonnie smiled, then slid her chair away from my little table. I didn’t need to worry she’d tip over because her chair was up against the rail. “Have you given much thought on how we can prove the realtor did it?”
Fred turned and cocked his head before I could answer. We both knew what it meant—he heard something we hadn’t. “Not really,” I answered, looking toward the road.
“Well, you better think of something fast, Jake. I think he’s here.” We must have looked like those cows one sees standing by the farmer’s fence watching the cars go by. All three of us were at the deck rail, faced in the direction of the road, waiting and listening.
“Not unless he’s driving a police van,” I said, and got up to meet the lab technicians with Fred at my heels. Bonnie said she’d join us as soon as she fixed her makeup.
***
THERE WERE TWO PEOPLE I could see: a driver and passenger. By the way the driver was waving his hands when he spoke to his passenger, it looked like they might be arguing. Or maybe he was trying to unhook himself from his seat belt and couldn’t find the latch. The guy was huge. Not big like a linebacker, but more like the fat man at a carnival.
The driver finally freed himself and stepped out of the van. I watched as the van seemed to lift itself up several inches. He didn’t look happy, nor did he take his eyes off Fred when he spoke to me. “They didn’t tell me we needed four-wheel drive. Christ, I’ll be lucky I don’t lose a muffler or something.” He didn’t wait for me to respond and turned back to his open cab to retrieve a clipboard before slamming the door shut.
“What a beautiful view you have.” The Grinch’s passenger had come around from the far side of the van. I turned in time to see her bouncing on the tips of her toes in the middle of stretching her arms. “And what a beautiful golden,” she said, kneeling down to pet Fred.
The big ham gave her his best grin in response.
“Don’t mind Danny,” she said, looking up while giving Fred an ear rub. “He got up on the wrong side of the bed...again.”
Danny scowled at her remark, glanced at his clipboard, then turned toward me. He didn’t seem to be worried about my fierce dog anymore. “Are you Jake Martin?”
“Depends on who’s asking,” I said.
Danny rolled his eyes and reached into his jumpsuit pocket then showed me an official looking badge. “Daniel Craig, Senior Crime Scene Technician for the Jefferson County Regional Crime Laboratory.”
“You don’t look like James Bond.” Bonnie had joined us in time to hear Danny’s full name. She wore a grin wider than Fred’s.
Danny glanced at his clipboard before answering. “And you, ma’am, must be Bonnie Jones?”
I silently prayed she didn’t say it depends on who’s asking.
“Yes, I am. But please, sir, please don’t arrest him. He didn’t mean to waste the time of such an important civil servant,” Bonnie answered with trembling lips. Then she grabbed my arm as if to protect me. “His name is Jake Martin. And this,” she said turning toward Fred, “is his very own CSI technician, Fred. Show Senior Technician Craig your badge, I mean tags, Fred.”
I had to put a hand over my mouth so I didn’t laugh. Danny’s partner had no such qualms and nearly fell over laughing. “Sorry, Danny,” she said, between laughs. “But with the mood you’ve been in since leaving Lakewood, you’ve got to admit, you had it coming.”
Red-faced, but stiffer than ever, he turned toward me. “Can you show me the walk board, Mr. Martin?”
I pointed toward my shed. “Sure. It’s right over there all locked away and waiting for you,”
Danny grunted his acknowledgment and started walking toward the shed without me. Actually, it was more of a waddle. I’m not saying he was obese, but he would have to be at least eight feet tall in order for his height/weight ratio to be meet federal guidelines. It didn’t take me more than a few seconds to pass him and get to the shed first. Fred stayed behind at the van with the girls. He was more interested in the other technician than coming with us. He had even found an old ball from somewhere and had her playing catch.
“I can’t get that damn thing in my van. What the hell was she thinking, sending us up here?” Danny said after I opened the shed door.
I could tell from his tone that it wasn’t a question—not that I would have answered anyway. All I wanted now was to give him the board so he’d leave. “Let me cut off the piece you need,” I answered, reaching for a battery-powered circular saw. “I’ll cut off the part where the message has been covered in paint. Or, if you prefer, I’ll cut it up into manageable pieces so it will fit in your van.”
“Just the part with the message. If there were any prints on the rest of it, they’re gone now. What the hell did you do to that board? It looks like it’s been through a flood.”
I didn’t bother to answer and returned his dirty look with one of my own before cutting the last two feet off the board. Halfway through the cut, my battery went dead. “Damn, why is it these batteries always die when you need them the most?”
He finally cracked a smile. Not a friendly smile. More like something Freddie Kruger might make right before he cut off your head. “There’s one in my van. Go ask Carly to fetch it for you,” he said, then sat his fat butt on a bench and fished out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. I didn’t bother to tell him the reason the bench was outside my shed was because the legs were loose. It was one of those fix-it projects on my list that I never seemed to have time to get to.
“What the...” He didn’t have time to swear again before the legs gave way and he found himself sitting on the ground.
Once again, I had to choke off my laughter with my hand. “No need to borrow yours. I have another saw in my shed,” I said after I recovered, acting like nothing had happened, and stepped over him to fetch my handsaw.
***
FRED WAS THE ONLY ONE who was sad to see the van leave. “You could have gone with her, traitor,” I said as we watched the van bottom out on a pothole.
“I hope the jerk lost a muffler,” Bonnie said.
“Be my luck they’d send me the bill,” I said, bending down to take Fred’s slimy tennis ball and throw it down the road. He struck out after it faster than a snake on a mouse.
Bonnie and I watched him chase the ball. The van had already passed the first bend in the road and was out of sight, so I was surprised when he stopped chasing after the ball and did his imitation of an Irish setter. He didn’t know how to point, but he didn’t have to.
“Are they coming back?” Bonnie asked. We both heard the sound of a vehicle scraping bottom.
I didn’t have to answer once we saw a classic Dodge Charger come slowly toward us.