Zonked in the Zucchinis (Lovely Lethal Gardens Rewind #1)

Chapter 10

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B ack home, almost the minute Doreen walked in the door, Mack called. “Hey,” she greeted him. “Are your ears burning?”

“No. Why?” he asked.

“I was just at your mom’s.”

“Ah, how’s she doing?” he asked, but he seemed a little distracted.

“She’s doing fine, just reminiscing about you as a little boy.”

“ Ugh ,” he said, with a groan.

Doreen laughed. “It’s cute.”

“Glad you think so,” he muttered.

“So, what’s happening? You sound distracted.”

“I am, but I just wanted to check in and to ensure you’re staying out of trouble.”

She laughed. “Since when do you call to see if I’m staying out of trouble, when I don’t even have a case or anything to work on?”

“Are you sure you don’t have a case to work on?” he asked, with a note of humor. “You have a whole group of cronies looking to cash in on your latest hobby.”

“I don’t think cash in is quite the right phrase,” she noted.

“It is if it means keeping themselves from dying of boredom.”

“Okay, maybe,” she muttered. “But, outside of going to your mom’s, I haven’t really been too involved yet today.”

“She’s okay though, isn’t she?” His tone sharpened with worry.

“Yes, she’s okay.”

“Good. She’s just,… you know, at that age.”

“I know,” she murmured. “Hopefully, we will have a lot more time with her yet.”

“Did she hassle you about the wedding?”

“Yep, she sure did, until I told her to back off, or else I would back off.”

“Ooh, ouch,” he muttered. “I hope that’s not really part of your argument for no pressure allowed .”

“I did try to make it clear to everyone,” she stated, “that I would not be pushed.”

“And I don’t want you to feel pushed,” he confirmed. “So, you do whatever you feel you need to do.”

Although that’s what she wanted him to say, and she appreciated that he said it, she still felt a little odd to have him say it was okay if she decided they weren’t getting married. She figured she was just being contrary and quickly changed the topic. “How’s the hunt going for your shooter?”

“Not very well,” he muttered.

When he hesitated to say more, she asked, “Did you contact the neighbor who was talking to the victim?”

“We did a canvass of all the neighbors, but nobody had anything to say,” he replied in frustration.

“Yeah, that’s a problem.”

“Part of the problem is you,” Mack pointed out, his voice gentle. “They want to talk to you versus anybody else.”

“Which is silly because, if they have any information, they should be talking to whoever comes to their door.”

“Apparently people think it would be a whole lot better if you were the one who came to their door,” he explained, with that same note of humor in his tone.

“That’s too bad though. You’re the police, and you’re the ones out there canvassing and talking to everybody.”

“Yeah, we sure are, not that it’s getting us much.”

She suggested, “I can phone Nan, if you like, and see if the neighbor came up with any more information.”

“Or you could tell me who Nan’s been talking to, and I can go talk to them.”

“I don’t even know who that is, and you know that Nan won’t tell you because nobody else would ever share with her again.”

“I do know that,” he said in frustration, “which is why I haven’t asked yet.”

“I am sorry. It’s sad to think that so many people don’t want to talk to the police, but, after all the things I’ve been through, I get it.” Then came silence for a long moment.

Mack finally spoke. “Getting people to talk is one thing, yet obstructing or withholding information that we need to solve cases is a completely different story.”

“I know. By the way, per Solomon’s files, he had one on Jack Mahoney, who went missing twenty-odd years ago, the father to your shooting victim. Jack still seems to be missing.” When Mack didn’t reply, she continued. “Do you have a file on him?” When Mack remained silent, she knew she was pushing it, but she added, “If you have a file on Jack that you could share with me, then I could start working on finding Lynda’s missing father.”

Mack sighed. “I’ll see if we have a file on Jack.” Then he clammed up again.

“Solomon also listed somebody who went missing about fifty years ago,” she began.

“Oh?”

“I don’t know if it’s still a missing person’s case or not. It’s possible that he was found and that Solomon just never updated it.”

“What was the guy’s name?”

She gave him the name that she had in the files, which was also the same name that Millicent had come up with.

Mack replied, “ Huh , Bartlet Jones. I don’t think I’ve even heard that name before. I’ll have to do a scan in the database and see if anything matches.”

“It would give me another cold case to work on,” she said cheerfully. “And then I would be out of your hair.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve already got the benefit of that stuck in my head,” he noted, chuckling. “However, I do have other things to do, so checking that on Bartlet Jones and also Jack Mahoney will have to wait until I get back to my computer.”

After he disconnected, she sat down and brought out the few notes that she had—not really much to go on. Not much on Bartlet and not much on Jack. Her own files were depressingly slim. What she really needed was to get out to the crime scene area for Lynda’s shooting and talk to somebody herself. Mack probably wouldn’t be very happy if she did, especially when the people started opening up to her. Regardless, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do about that. It could end up helping Mack on his current case. Plus, she had a related cold case with no leads, so she had to resort to talking to the locals.

If people wanted to talk to her and not the police, why not? She would share what she found out regardless. So she pondered that, then decided she should head back to the library, now that she had names to search for, and find out whether any other information existed on Bartlet Jones or Jack Mahoney that Solomon had missed. She sighed. That could be a waste of time, especially since Mack hadn’t called back and confirmed that both these guys were still missing. Dithering back and forth, not sure which way to go, she decided to go for a walk, which would take her mind off the rest of this stuff.

So, with the animals in tow and knowing that they’d already gone over to Millicent’s, Doreen headed them up the river. She hadn’t gone very far when she saw a bunch of boys throwing rocks in the river. Mugs woofed at them several times, but the boys just looked at her, then at her dog. One of them picked up a rock, then went into pitcher mode, as if to throw it at Mugs. One of them called out to his buddy, “Hey, you can’t do that.”

The boy with the rock looked at him and asked, “Why not?” His tone was surly and ugly.

“She’s the lady who does all the detecting work, and that dog is special.”

At the word detecting , the boy with the rock turned to look at her. “But she’s old.”

Doreen winced. “I guess to you I’m old.”

“You’re old to anybody,” he declared, with a sneer.

She frowned at him and nodded. “Had a rough day, huh ?”

“Rough life,” he muttered.

“Sorry about that. It goes along with being young sometimes.”

“Why? Does it get better when you’re old?”

She barely held back another wince because, for the longest time, her life really hadn’t gotten any better. But now, well, it was lovely. “I definitely had times when it wasn’t good,” she shared calmly, “but then there are times when it’s great.”

“What? You mean, when you close a case?”

“Yeah, those are great times. Those are times when I feel as if I’ve accomplished something and as if there was a point to getting out of bed.”

“The whole point of getting out of bed,” he stated, “is to eat the food you want and to do things you like.”

“I like helping people,” she added. “What’s your name?”

“It doesn’t matter what my name is,” he snapped, sneering at her again.

She nodded. “You’ve got a whole lot of hate for the world, huh ?” He just shrugged and didn’t say anything. She looked over at the other boy. “And how do you know about me?”

He laughed. “You’re everywhere, and people are always talking about you and all the different cases you’ve been solving,” he replied enthusiastically. “Like, wait. Are you involved in that shooting case?”

“Nope, it’s an active case, so the police handle it.”

“Oh, right. You do cold cases, don’t you? What about that old man who disappeared? I heard my grandpa talking about it a while back.”

“Which old man?” she asked, testing his knowledge.

And sure enough, he said, “Bartlet Jones.”

“That is fascinating. I was just talking to somebody about that case.”

“Yeah? My grandpa really wants it solved. He can’t believe the old guy never showed up.”

“I don’t think he was all that old.”

“Are you kidding? He was thirty.”

Doreen barely held back a laugh because apparently, to some, thirty was absolutely ancient. “Where is your grandpa? I wouldn’t mind talking to him about it.”

“Ah, he’s in a home.”

“Yeah, which one?” she asked.

“The one close to here,” he said. “Rosemoor or something.”

“What’s your grandpa’s name?”

“Lynon, but I don’t know what his other name is. We just call him Grandpa Lynon.”

“Good enough. Maybe I’ll go chat with him.” And, with that, she turned to the other kid with the rock and said, “You must have something better to do with your life than throwing rocks at dogs.”

He glared at her. “I didn’t throw a rock at your dog.”

“No, but you would have, right before your friend here told you not to.”

“Yeah, I don’t listen to him.”

“Maybe you should,” she suggested, “because, although you want to be tough, anybody who hurts animals is just picking on something that can’t protect itself. That doesn’t make you tough. It makes you a bully.” And, with that, she waved at the two of them, heading in Nan’s direction. She pulled out her phone and called her. “Hey, Nan.”

“Ooh, are you coming to visit?”

“Maybe. Do you know somebody down there named Lynon?”

“Oh, sure. I’m not certain anybody ever listens to him though.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

“Because he’s always making up stories.”

“Making up stories or telling stories about things and places and people who you don’t know?”

At that, Nan gasped. “Does he have information?”

“I don’t know. Any chance I could come down and talk to him?”

“Sure, come straight away. I’ll expect you soon.”

Doreen was already heading that way along the river, and she just kept on going toward Rosemoor. The animals were more than happy with that routine and didn’t put up a fuss, once they realized they weren’t going home just yet. As soon as they reached Rosemoor, the main door opened. Doreen wondered if she should go in that direction or head over to Nan’s patio.

But the stranger held the door for her, a big smile on his face. “Anybody coming with that number of animals has got to be Doreen.”

She laughed as she walked inside, more accustomed to being recognized now, but still feeling weird about it all. She nodded. “That’s me.”

“Are you here sleuthing, or have you come for social reasons?”

“My grandmother is here.”

“Ah, that’s a difficult stage in life, isn’t it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, they get into an awful lot of trouble here, but they really seem to enjoy every moment of it.”

He burst out laughing. “I think you’re right there. I can’t believe the things I get called in about, and they all seem to think that you’re responsible.”

She frowned at him. “I don’t think I’m responsible, but I have to admit that my grandmother could be.”

“Now that’s possible too,” he agreed. “They did say that they had somebody here who was a bit of a troublemaker and always got everybody going.”

Doreen winced. “Yeah, that would probably be Nan.”