Chapter Forty-One
DAY ELEVEN
THURSDAY
Clara looked at me over her sunglasses when she joined me in the parking lot at the dog park around noon.
I had Gracie and Murphy on their leashes. They were not amused at our waiting for Clara and LuLu, instead of going inside.
“Whoa. You don’t look great,” she said.
Without removing my sunglasses — which meant she didn’t know the half of it — I said, “I didn’t sleep well.”
“You and Teague—?”
“He didn’t come home last night.”
“Well, that was the other possibility for you not sleeping well. The less fun one.”
“I kept having dreams that woke me up. Had a hard time going back to sleep. I’d finally drift off and have another weird dream.”
“What dreams?”
“Let’s get in first.”
“You got it. Here, give me Murph’s leash.”
I followed her, feeling as if my brain was stuffed with cotton pads.
I was so woolly — so maybe wool instead of cotton? — I didn’t even notice Berrie and the Bostons weren’t around. Thank heavens. I don’t think I could have taken Marcus’ greeting.
Clara waited until we sat atop our favorite picnic table, our trio of dogs dashing around like someone turned their dials to full speed.
“What dreams?”
I streamed out a breath. “I doubt I remember them all. There was a trolley with a bunch of people in it, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere.
A treasure chest. A map, to the treasure chest, I think.
And a huge calendar, the old desk kind with a square for each date, but the squares were doors and I kept walking in and out of them, getting more and more lost. One of the last dreams when I was trying to squeeze out more sleep before I gave up, was about a wild game of Hangman. ”
“Hangman?”
“Old game. Sort of like the ancestor of Wheel of Fortune, where you guess a letter at a time to try to figure out a word.”
“Oh, yeah. Each wrong guess builds part of a—” She broke off on a sucked-in breath. It came out on the final word. “—gallows. Don’t you see? You dreamed about building a gallows — like Gallows Path, where Damon was murdered.”
She waited.
When I didn’t have the reaction she wanted, she insisted, “Your dreams were about the murder.”
“If they were, they sure weren’t about the solution,” I said glumly.
“Don’t give up so easily. So, we have building the gallows, letter by letter, until you have a word.”
I felt the weight of her expectant look on the left side of my face. “No word comes to mind.”
“Okay, okay. There’s more to work with. You said passengers in a trolley. That must be everyone involved, right? All going to the same destination?”
“Where?”
“That’s what your dream should tell you.”
“You don’t think I would have led with that if it had?”
She grimaced, possibly expressing doubt about my ability to find the lead.
“What else? A treasure chest, a map. Damon cheated people out of their money — that’s treasure, right? Like Oscar’s money, his treasure, that was going to give Jean the trip she’d always wanted.”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t give up. There was the calendar, with doors— Oh, that’s got to be your Why now? question, don’t you think?”
“Honestly, Clara, I don’t feel capable of thinking right now.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll think about it and you’ll get some rest and it’ll— Look who’s here.”
I turned my head to see Bryon Georger entering the large dog enclosure.
“Hadn’t told you yet, but I heard he wasn’t at the sheriff’s department yesterday and stayed at a hotel.” Clara’s voice dropped as he came closer. “Also heard they told him not to leave the area, though the person who said that does watch a lot of cop shows on TV.”
“Hi. Clara, isn’t it? And Sheila?” His vague gaze left it unclear if he knew which of us was which. “Thought I might find Donna here.”
“She comes much earlier in the day,” Clara said. “But if you’re looking for Izolde, Zoley had her as of Monday night’s class.”
“Zoley did?” He twisted his head sharply. “She was on and on about getting a dog. Then she couldn’t be bothered. Then nothing could stand in the way of taking classes. Then she told Donna to take both dogs. And now she takes it back?”
Sounded like the last step surprised him the most.
He also seemed tired and impatient.
He’d leave any second. No easing into this.
“You and Damon didn’t seem to be getting along at class Thursday. Yet, you said he confided to you someone had been in his papers.”
“Wasn’t confiding. He thought someone had been in his papers. Said that when we first got to the Tavern for dinner. As for friendly . . . it came and went.”
“What happened that made it go that evening?”
“Nothing specific.”
None of us believed that.
The choice now was whether to keep drilling on that topic — expecting to meet resistance — or to go wide.
I opted for wide. “Did you do business with him?”
“No. I’m not that stupid.”
“Oh? Were you aware of his business conflicts with other people?” Clara did innocence so well.
“Conflicts? I was aware of his scams. I’ve told the sheriff’s department everything I knew about them. That’s why I spent so much time there.” He looked up from under his brows at us, checking if we believed that.
I hoped he focused more on Clara than my inferior poker face.
“All I know is if he’d had half the brains and ability with finance Pammy does, he’d have done a lot more damage. When we started doing things together as couples, she helped me get set up, saving, investing — nothing wild. Solid. And it’s done well.”
That fit with what Carol heard from the B&B owner in Georgia who’d said Pammy was a star in her finance courses.
“Damon didn’t listen to her advice?”
“Like I said, I don’t know. Haven’t heard her giving input in the past few years. Hard for anybody to get a word in with Damon around.”
“Zoley seemed to like him.”
Even Clara’s innocence didn’t quite pull that off.
Bryon exhaled through his nose. “I know what you’re hinting. Heard plenty of it at the sheriff’s department. I didn’t know — I don’t know. Neither do you.”
But he sure as heck suspected.
“Was that what caused the friendly feelings between you and Damon to go last Thursday?” I asked.
“Like I said, nothing specific.”
“But you said specific things to him outside Zepke’s. About being a man of action, about things not turning out well for him.”
“I gotta go.”
I tossed another question as he turned away. “Did you accuse him of having an affair with your wife?”
He gave me a look over his shoulder . . . The phrase murderous look sprang to mind and I wished it would unspring.
Watching him exit the enclosure, Clara did not comment on that look, but said, “Did you notice he referred to Izzy as it?”
I wonder if Bryon Georger knew he’d raised his profile as a potential killer based on the impersonal pronoun.
* * * *
Teague was in the shower when the dogs and I got home.
In far less time than it would have taken me, he came into the kitchen where I was standing at the sink, absently staring out the window to the back yard.
“Just a pit stop,” he said when I turned to him. “Got to go right back.”
That answered the question I hadn’t voiced — How’s it going?
I brushed Teague’s damp hair back. “Sorry to hear that.”
He grinned. “You’re not entirely sorry, because it means we haven’t made an arrest. By the way, I looked up what you said about scientific research into dogs picking up people’s emotions—”
“Except psychopaths.”
“—except psychopaths. Because psychopaths don’t react to emotions or possibly don’t have emotions, so they don’t excrete as much of what dogs pick up.”
“I told you all that.”
“Yeah. You do write fiction, though,” he drawled. “From what you’ve said, the Swindells’ dog—”
“Lucifer.”
“—shied away from Damon.”
“Damon was impatient. An extreme leash yanker. Never a word of praise.”
“How about other people? The trainer? You? Clara?”
“We didn’t have a lot of interaction with him. As for Leo, Lucifer was nervous at first, but settled. Oh, and he seemed fine with Donna.”
Teague flipped his hand over, silently expressing that he’d never seen a dog who wasn’t fine with Donna.
I added another. “He seemed good with the dog walker, too.”
“Willow.” No surprise he knew that. “How did he interact with Bryon Georger?”
“I’d say wary.”
My lack of sleep twisted up my thinking. If dogs couldn’t read psychopaths, his reaction to Bryon Georger would make the man, what? Potentially a run-of-the-mill bad guy?
“What’s this?” Teague abruptly took my forearm, bare where my shirt’s loose sleeve had slid back to my elbow.
“Wha— Oh. A bruise. The remnants of a bruise.”
“How’d this happen?”
“Somebody was trying to get my attention.”
“It looks like impressions from fingers. Did somebody—?”
“Yes, somebody did, but not like you’re thinking.” I put my other palm against his cheek. “It was Clara.”
Amusement eased his expression. “I suppose that makes me feel better, but it wouldn’t make it hurt you less.”
“True, but it’s nearly gone. She’d spotted Blanche Todd Alsup and William Alsup, though we didn’t know who they were at that point. What we did know is she’d seen Blanche in a situation with Damon Swindell that indicated . . . mutual attraction.”
“Mmm.” He sounded distracted. Or was he trying to distract me? How much did he know about the Alsups that Clara and I didn’t? He wasn’t surprised to hear their names come up.
Before he made further distracting progress up my arm and possibly because my disturbed night turned off the ruminator in my brain, I said, “Teague, I want to ask you to do something with me . . . without asking questions.”
Both eyebrows rose. “Have to ask at least one — is it legal?”
Despite myself, I felt the urge to chuckle. “Yes, it’s legal.”
“Okay.”
“Would you come with me on a drive to near Lafayette, Indiana?”
His sharp look strengthened my belief that he and Quincy had met there.
“Does this have to do with your maybe?”
I went still.
He meant our oblique exchange about marriage back at New Year’s.
I looked directly at him, but my words skittered to rival Willow’s. “I . . . Maybe? I’m not trying to avoid . . . I’m trying . . . Step by step.”
He looked down at me. Not totally understanding — couldn’t blame him, since I didn’t either — but no judgment.
“Two more questions,” he said.
“Teague—”
“Café, barbeque, or pizza for lunch? Because if lunch isn’t included—”
“Café.” I expelled a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.
“When?”
“After . . . I know you can’t with the case open.”
“And you don’t want to.” The teasing humor in that reassured me. “Okay.”