Chapter 18 #2
“My dog found it,” said Louise. “We’re sure it’s human.” And as soon as he confirmed it, she was going to accompany him right on over to that hole next door.
Officer Mead examined it, then exchanged a look with his partner. Was it a troubled look? Louise braced herself for the horrible confrontation about to ensue and moved closer to Martin.
“I can understand your concern, ma’am,” said Officer Mead. “But not to worry. This bone isn’t human.”
“Not human!” Louise echoed.
“Are you sure?” Gilda demanded. “Don’t you need to bring in a detective?”
Officer Mead smiled politely at her. “No. I’ve done a lot of hunting. So has my partner here. We know a deer bone when we see one.”
“Deer bone,” Louise repeated. How was that possible?
“They can be mistaken for human,” said young Officer Trumble.
“It’s not . . . He’s not?” Louise suddenly didn’t feel so well. Her whole face was on fire.
“Thank you for coming, officers. I thought that was what it was,” Martin said.
“It’s always wise to call us,” said Officer Mead. “That’s what we’re here for.”
The officers left and Louise lowered her shaky self onto a kitchen chair. Gilda sat down hard on one next to her. Alec James remained standing, frowning and shaking his head.
“But then how did it get there?” Louise wondered. The minute the words were out of her mouth she knew, and the flame burned hotter.
Her neighbor made a face. “I’ll give you two guesses.”
“It couldn’t have been Darling,” she insisted. “He wasn’t gone for that long.”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” snapped Alec James.
“We might have jumped to conclusions,” Louise began.
Both his eyebrows shot up. “Might have?”
“But we were concerned,” she said. “You certainly can’t blame us, with all the shouting always going on at your house.”
It appeared that he could. He let out an exasperated breath and strode out of the kitchen.
Martin gave Louise a pat on the shoulder before he called to Alec James and went after him. They could hear him saying, “She’s been under a strain lately.” He might as well have added, “She’s crazy.”
It was sweet of him to try to smooth things over, but no amount of smoothing could explain away this mess.
“I guess we did jump to conclusions,” she said to Gilda. It was so embarrassing. She’d never be able to look the man in the eye again.
“Maybe, but better safe than sorry,” Gilda replied.
“I mean, what if something was going on next door? You’d feel even worse if that had been the case and you hadn’t done anything.
Just like the neighbors of the freezer killer.
And really, you still don’t know the whole story of what went on next door.
All you have is that man’s word. And who knows if that’s worth anything. ”
“You’re right,” said Louise.
“No, she’s not,” Zona said after she came home and learned what had happened.
“I told you how hard it is these days to get away with murder. How could you accuse our neighbor of it, especially with things already strained between us? You can be glad Martin smoothed those troubled waters. Honestly, Mom, what were you thinking?”
Louise’s face began to burn. “I wasn’t. I got so caught up in . . .” What had she gotten caught up in?
“In imagining things that weren’t true,” Zona supplied. “You overheard a couple of really bad fights and jumped to the worst possible conclusion.”
Who did that? Crazy people, that was who. Was she losing it?
“Am I slipping mentally?” she fretted.
“What?”
“Maybe dementia is setting in. Or Lewy Body. Except I thought that happened primarily to men.”
“Mom!” Zona protested. She sounded panicked.
“People can get childish in their old age, start to lose it. I think I’m losing it,” Louise said in a small voice.
“No, you’re not,” Zona said firmly. “You’re just operating under the influence of Hitchcock. And Gilda. I think you two should take a break from your true crime shows for a while.”
Louise bit her lip and nodded.
“Or harness that creativity and work on your novel.”
“I know who the murderer is going to look like,” Louise muttered.
It resurrected Zona’s sense of humor and she laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, remember, I’ve been suspecting him of things I have no evidence of, too,” she said. “Bottom line, we don’t know him well enough to pass judgment. Although, I’ve got to admit, being around him makes me edgy.”
“Now we’re probably the ones who make him edgy.”
Zona chuckled at that. “At least we know he’s not a murderer.” She shook her head and smiled. “That had to be some scene. Mr. Hitchcock would have loved it.”
What a mortifying scene it had turned out to be. “I’m sure the officers will keep everyone down at the police station entertained telling about it,” Louise said with a frown.
“What happened to the bone?”
“Martin took it away.”
“Thank God,” said Zona.
“And Gilda scrubbed down both the fridge and the table three times before she left. Still, I may never eat at that table again. And my poor fridge. Serves us right, I guess. I’m sure Martin thinks I’m insane,” Louise added.
She wished she’d listened to him. Then at least the police wouldn’t have gotten involved.
“Well, you are making his life interesting.”
Louise frowned. “The neighborhood crazy lady.” She couldn’t even justify her behavior by adding, “But it’s possible.
He could have murdered his girlfriend.” And cut her up in pieces and buried a stray femur in his front yard.
Remembering how insistent she’d been and what a fool she’d looked like put a sizzle on her face.
Zona heaved a sigh. “I really hate to have to do it, but I think I’d better take over a peace offering. I’ll bake some cookies.”
“He’ll probably think they’re poisoned.”
“Then he can have a turn calling the police,” Zona cracked.
Louise didn’t think her daughter was at all funny.
After they’d finished eating dinner, Zona baked a batch of frosted oatmeal cookies.
“These are bound to sweeten the man up,” Louise said as she sampled one.
“I hope so,” said Zona. “Or at least dissuade him from suing us.”
“Suing us!” Louise squeaked.
Zona shrugged. “I don’t know for sure if he can or not, but you did accuse him of committing a crime.”
“Oooh,” said Louise. She was going to be sick. Faint. Maybe both.
“Don’t worry. I’ll patch things up,” Zona promised.
She was on her way out the door when Martin stopped in to check on Louise. “It’s the least we can do,” she told him before she left.
“I feel like a fool,” Louise said as the door shut behind her daughter. She’d thought nothing would top her embarrassment over falling at the sail-away party on the cruise ship, but this dwarfed it completely.
“It was an honest mistake,” Martin said. “You heard the officer. It’s easy to mistake a deer bone for a human one.”
“Buried in your neighbor’s yard,” Louise added miserably. “I made a terrible mess of things. What if he sues us?”
“He won’t. And Zona’s cookies will go a long way toward smoothing things over,” Martin assured her.
“You know what’s really awful, Martin? I still think something wasn’t right over there.”
Martin looked wary.
“We really did overhear some very scary fighting,” she said. “And that man . . . he isn’t nice. I’ve never seen him smile.” He probably wasn’t smiling now.
“How much have you seen him?” Martin argued. “And under what circumstances?”
“Never good,” she admitted. “But he does seem to have a short fuse on his temper.”
“Louise, you can hardly blame him.”
“Well, what was I to think with that bone?”
“That Darling had found a bone and dug it up,” Martin said reasonably. “Who knows what other dog might have buried it and how long it had been there.”
“What a mess,” Louise said miserably.
Martin gave her an encouraging smile. “Maybe someday you’ll all laugh about this.”
“I don’t intend to have anything to do with him,” Louise said firmly. “Once Zona delivers those cookies, we’re even.”
As if cookies balanced calling the police on the man. Maybe she should have suggested Zona tell Alec James her mother had dementia. It would have made a good excuse.
ZONA’S ENCOUNTERS WITH Alec James had only been marginally better than her mother’s since the business with Darling had started, but at least she hadn’t accused him of murder.
Still, he’d shown them his ugly side, so other than offering up an edible apology she didn’t plan to invest any further energy in being neighborly.
No more communication whatsoever with the man next door after this.
After what had happened earlier, he’d probably be fine with that. Good grief, could the situation be any more awful?
Her heart started pounding as she made her way next door, and it picked up its pace when she rang the doorbell.
By the time he answered, wearing a pec-hugging black T-shirt and board shorts, it was at a full gallop, not stopping to explain whether the rapid pace was due to nerves or something more primitive.
He was built like an action movie star with that fit body and granite jaw.
The look he gave her could only be described as leery.
She held out the container of cookies. “I come in peace.”
“More cookies?” He didn’t reach for it.
So much for that clever remark. “They’re oatmeal. I promise they’re not laced with rat poison.”
A corner of his mouth did lift at that, and he took them, then leaned against the door frame. “They got raisins in them?”
She nodded. “And cinnamon.”
“Those are my favorite,” he said. “Thanks.”
“I kind of figured we owe you.”
He did smile at that. “Is your mom . . . I mean, is she all there?”
“She’s now wondering that herself.”
He shook his head, looked heavenward. “Is she done spying on me?”