Chapter 35
“You never told me about the funeral,” Lily said from the family room as she muted the television.
“Nothing much to say.” A lot had happened since Mavis Greenlee was put to rest. Nikki slammed the dishwasher closed and listened as the rush of water indicated the temperamental machine was running.
“No big ‘aha’ moments for you? You didn’t root out the murderer?”
“Nope. It was all very standard fare.” She thought about Westin Stark on the pulpit in his black robe and purple stole, hair neatly clipped. He had the look of a leader on him as he spoke of resurrection and everlasting life in heaven for Mavis Greenlee. For all who believed.
“So did the Partridge Family put on a big spread?”
“You mean the Birds of Paradise,” Nikki corrected, though she knew Lily was just being sarcastic. As usual. “Yes, it was nice. All in all,” Nikki had to admit, “the service was good.”
“But not fruitful for you in chasing down a murderer?”
“Well, that wasn’t exactly the intent of the funeral.”
“No, I suppose not.” Lily took a sip of wine. “I shouldn’t be so judgmental.”
“Amen to that.”
Drying her hands on a towel, Nikki walked from the kitchen to stare at the television.
Lily was sprawled on the couch, the girls outside with the dogs, running in the yard, while the sky was streaked magenta and violet as the sun set.
She caught a glimpse of Chloe running and giggling over the grass, Arlo bounding after her, even Phee giving chase, her hair flying, her grin infectious as she caught her much-younger cousin.
Chloe screamed happily, laughing, while Phee spun her around and Arlo, tail whipping from his still-shorn backside, barked and galloped to join in.
The scene in the backyard was heartwarming.
And in direct opposition to what was being aired on the local news.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Lily said somberly as she watched the TV and absently petted Jennings, who had deigned to curl up next to her. A half-full glass of red wine sat on the coffee table, where several magazines lay open.
On the screen a grim-faced Jamison Kittle was front and center, other officers nearby, and she caught a glimpse of Pierce, standing a few feet to one side.
An older couple were huddled next to Jamison.
They were, Nikki guessed, Naomi’s parents.
The woman was petite, like Naomi, with the same arched brows and high cheekbones.
She’d placed one manicured hand over the youngest girl’s shoulder, while a stoic man in his early seventies stood close.
Both parents looked devastated, their faces etched with shared fear.
The Kittles’ usually rambunctious daughters stood ashen-faced, like proverbial does in the headlights, while their father pleaded with anyone who had any knowledge of what had happened to his wife to come forward.
“We just want our Naomi back,” Jamison said, staring straight into the camera, his voice cracking over his wife’s name.
“What a nightmare,” Lily whispered.
“I can’t imagine.” Nikki couldn’t help but remember the night of Lara’s sweet-sixteen party, where Naomi was in the kitchen, organizing the refreshments.
Lara had been a little snappy and the center of attention, her two siblings dressed up in frothy silver dresses, but running through the house like the carefree kids they were.
Or had been.
No longer.
Now bone-chilling reality had destroyed the unfettered naivete and free spirits.
That much was evident in their haunted eyes.
Nikki’s heart ached for what they’d lost. Could it be retrieved and nurtured, when their mother was found?
If she was found.
The night of the party, Naomi had been in control, organizing everything from food to music and the family photographs.
But Nikki had also caught Knox leaving the Kittles’ property after speaking with Naomi, outside the kitchen that night, and another time Nikki had seen them together at the riding school.
Naomi was obviously involved with her ex-boyfriend again, most likely romantically. Sexually.
And yet the tired-looking man on the screen, one of Pierce’s best friends, had confided that he and his wife had been planning to share their own romantic weekend.
They were going to reconnect and create a new life, hopefully a son, to solidify their union and give Jamison the male heir that he so desperately longed for, so that he could claim his hereditary stake in the Kittle family tradition.
“Liar,” she said under her breath.
“Who’s a liar?” Lily stopped stroking the cat and picked up her wineglass.
Still holding the stem, she pointed with her index finger at the newscast, where Jamison was just stepping away from the microphone.
“Him? Well, you know what I think about Jamison Kittle, but I can’t help but feel for him, and especially the kids. ”
“I know, I agree.” Jamison Kittle appeared heartbroken. The camera panned on the three girls. “You know, he told Pierce that he and Naomi were trying to get pregnant, that they hoped for a boy.”
“What if they got another girl?” Lily asked. “Maybe a basketball team of females. Then what? Even another one. And another?” She took a sip from her glass. “It happens. I know a family who had six boys before they got the girl.”
“And how old was that mother?”
“She started young. Early twenties. Maybe was even still in her teens. I don’t really know. But, to be fair, I have a friend who has four boys. Always wanted a girl, and now she’s really cool with how it all turned out. Swears she can’t imagine her life being any other way. So, you never know.”
“Naomi’s in her mid-forties,” Nikki mused.
“Not too late,” Lily said as a chyron ran along the bottom of the screen, displaying the number to call if anyone had information about Naomi’s disappearance. “You weren’t exactly a spring chicken when you had your first.”
“And it wasn’t easy,” she said, remembering the emotional pain of her miscarriages as her phone buzzed in her pocket.
A text.
From Janelle McGowan, Billy Huber’s daughter.
Janelle’s message was to the point:
Got the police okay to clean up Billy’s place.
Retrieved what I wanted (not much!) and found someone to clean it up.
The crew comes tomorrow to take all the crap away.
I went through most of it and left some of that dog’s things on the porch. Toys. Leashes. A bed. Vet records and some dog food.
If you want anything, you can have it.
After tomorrow, it’s gone.
Hope the mutt’s okay.
Nikki wasn’t interested in Arlo’s things, aside from the vet records. But she wouldn’t mind going through Billy Huber’s place again. Before it was destroyed. And she was surprised that Janelle had even contacted her and said something kind about the dog.
Maybe she was mellowing.
But, thinking about Billy’s only child, Nikki decided that Janelle’s change of heart was unlikely.
At that moment, the door to the patio burst open.
Laughing and giggling, Chloe chasing Phee, the girls ran inside. Arlo sped after them, Mikado taking his time. “Shut the door!” Lily ordered, then added, “Please!” as Arlo began zooming around the room, circling in one spot, then making mad dashes from one end of the room to the other.
Phee closed the door with a bang.
Arlo sped around the coffee table, his tail whipping as fast as a striking snake. It hit Lily’s glass, sending it flying.
“Stop!” she shrieked as wine sloshed from the glass to spill over the magazines and remote control. “Oh, God! Stop!”
Nikki retrieved the kitchen towel and tossed it to her sister as the dog streaked into the foyer and up the stairs.
“Get him out of here!” Lily was dabbing at the table, wiping up the spill. “Take him for a walk or, better yet, a run!” she said. “Oh, God!”
Arlo zipped back into the room.
“Open the door! Let him out!” Lily yelled.
Phee’s fingers were still on the handle. “But you said to close—”
“I know! I changed my mind!”
“Okay. Geez, Mom, don’t have a fit!” Phee opened the door, and Arlo shot through.
“Fine, I’ll take him to the dog park for exercise,” Nikki said, which was stretching the truth more than a little. She had no intention of going to the park and instead planned to return to Billy Huber’s property at Janelle McGowan’s invitation.
“Good!” Lily was frantically blotting up the dark liquid and shaking out the remote.
“I come, too!” Chloe had taken in all of the excitement.
“Not this time,” Nikki said, picking up her daughter. “It’s beddy-bye for you now.”
“No!” Chloe stuck out her lower lip. “You’re mean!”
Lily, her frantic fury expunged, actually laughed.
“This from the most privileged princess in Savannah.” She drank the few remaining drops of wine from her glass, then tossed the stained towel into the sink.
“I’ll take her,” she said to Nikki and left her empty glass on the table to retrieve her niece.
Sending a sidelong glance to the glass door, where Arlo was now whining and scratching, she added, “You deal with the devil dog.”
Nikki drove directly to Billy Huber’s place.
As Janelle had promised, all of Arlo’s dog paraphernalia was on the porch, piled surprisingly neatly on a small table. The rest of the property, with its piles of junk, appeared the same as it had weeks before when Nikki had first viewed it.
While Arlo nosed around the place where he’d last lived, Nikki surveyed the place.
She eyed the barn, where Billy had, it seemed, been repairing a gutter, and the area below it, where he’d met his maker, compliments of a killer still at large.
The tiller that had been used to crush his skull had been removed, but pieces of old carnival rides were still piled near a shed, and vines still grew over the face of a clown with a light bulb for a nose.
Furniture was broken and rotting, some with stuffing exposed and probably home for rats and other rodents.
The rusting arm and carriage from an old octopus ride was rusting near the fence.