Bullet in the Night (23 page)

“Estelle, why are you telling me this?”

“No reason. For sure I wouldn’t be questioning his doings, but there sure is a bunch of noise that comes outta that room sometimes.”

I couldn’t get her words out of my head after we returned to the kitchen, and I wrote out her paycheck. “Thanks. Goodnight Estelle.”

My cell phone vibrated. Nick’s name appeared. Estelle waved as she exited.

The voice I loved more than any other flowed through the air. “Don’t hold dinner for me, sweetie.”

I slumped. “What’s up?”

“The deposition ran over, and we ordered in sandwiches. I’ll be home around nine unless I can compress this report and finish sooner.”

“No problem.”

“Don’t be upset.”

Did my voice sound testy?

After ending the call with Nick, I tossed together a dinner of chili and brown rice with corn bread. I decided to put together a plate of food for Tucker to take over later.

The children settled into their homework at the dining room table, no TV on school nights. I was a stickler on that. I sat with them and opened my brief case. The hum of mental activity was in the air.

The atmosphere was perfect for writing client discharge paperwork, but my brain wouldn’t focus. So much for using the evening for catch-up.

I stood and stretched. “I’ll be gone about half an hour, kids. Tell dad, if he gets back early that I went to Tucker Lawrence’s to drop off dinner for him.”

It was light outside, and I’d be back by dusk. No concern. Right? Wrong.

My dinner gesture wasn’t totally altruistic. On the drive over, I recalled Tucker’s hovering when I was at the house. What Estelle shared about a locked room on the lower level intrigued me. This conscientious woman’s curiosity had transferred to me. I recalled what it did to cats.

As university staff, Tucker would have an office on campus. So why have one at home with papers important enough to lock up? What kind of research project was he working on?

I had no reason to be suspicious of his activities. I scolded myself.

Maybe Tucker’s offhand comment the other day was right. Had the sniper meant to shoot him, not Lenora?

When I arrived at Lenora’s, Tucker’s car wasn’t in the driveway. I knocked just to be sure it wasn’t in the garage.

No answer. I twisted the doorknob. It opened with no resistance.
Unlocked? So much for a man who has something to hide.
Under the circumstances, I considered it an invitation to march in and leave the dinner I’d brought.

I deposited his dinner in the nearly empty fridge then searched through the twenty plus things in my purse for my notepad and pen to inform him I’d left a meal for him.

The silence of the house was broken by a loud thud, as if something fell from a high perch. The sound came from downstairs and was loud enough to startle me. Lenora didn’t have a dog or cat. Was Tucker home after all? Why hadn’t I checked the garage for a car?

I called his name and waited.

No answer. Had I imagined the sound?

I pulled my tiny notepad and pen from my purse, dashed off a note, and placed it on the kitchen table.

As if on cue, the thudding echoed again from downstairs like an object dropping. I called out Tucker’s name again.

I collected my courage. Maybe a door had blown open. If so, I should go down and close it. I approached the stairs off the kitchen and tiptoed down. I’d never been on the lower level. Estelle had said the office was down here. Maybe Tucker was inside and hadn’t heard my calls.

When I reached the last stair, although the light was dim, I could make out several rooms: storage, laundry, and the largest, a billiard room, were open. My gaze fell upon a closed door at the other end of the large area. Could that be Tucker’s office? I worked my way through baskets and pool cues and tried the door. Locked. I jiggled the handle, and a thudding noise sounded inside. I shivered.

Perhaps an outside window had a shutter banging. I struggled to get my mental bearings and visualize the external structure of the house.

Suddenly a door slammed above me. Footsteps bounded straight down the stairs.

My feet locked on the floor. Seconds later, hot air breathed onto the back of my neck, and I whirled around and stared into Tucker’s wide eyes.

“Why, hello,” I stammered. “I heard a noise and decided to check. I mean, I came down here looking for you.” My face was hot all over. I am so completely non-cool when flustered. “I’ve brought you dinner.”

His eyebrows lifted. He looked at my empty hands.

“It’s in the refrigerator,” I blurted. “I understand from Estelle you have a home office in the lower level and a loud noise seemed to come from down here...” Stupid chatter.

A weird look crossed his face. I couldn’t define it. His eyes bored into me. “Let’s check.” He withdrew a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door before us.

My heart was in my throat. He grasped my wrist and said simply, “We’ll look together.”

Tucker reached into the room, flicked the light switch, and gently pushed me forward.

It took several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the fluorescent light and fasten on a huge snake slithering along the floor toward me. I did a double take, gasped, and jumped back. Another reptile curled up in a ball next to a carton on a table. A discarded snakeskin lay coiled in the corner of the room.

My mouth fell open, my vocal chords paralyzed. I was a lousy screamer, or I might have broken Tucker’s eardrums.

“You don’t like my pets?” An amused expression played around the corners of his mouth.

“It’s not often I’m at a loss for words, Tucker,” I whispered. “Had you prepared me, I might have handled this better. I don’t appreciate your bizarre sense of humor.”

“Annabelle’s restless. When she’s active, she often knocks things down.”

“That’s the sound I heard.”

“She probably bumped something. She gets to eat tonight. You can watch. It’s an occasion. Snakes only eat once every seven to ten days.”

Tucker strode past me to the large cabinet against the wall.

I watched dumbstruck.

He picked up a snake that had stretched itself across the chair. “Here she is.” Annabelle made no effort to recoil and seemed to relish the attention. Tucker advanced toward me. “Isn’t she adorable? Some snakes live twenty years as pets.”

“Stop!” I shouted with the gusto of a football coach now. “No closer.”

“Jennifer, don’t scare my sweet snakes. Annabelle won’t hurt you.”

If the snake slithered up my arm, I might go into apoplexy.

Pleasure was written all over Tucker’s face. He appeared to be stifling a grin as he savored my revulsion.

“Won’t it get out?”

“The top of this cage is weighted so the snakes can’t push it open.”

I gulped. “Do you buy these in a pet store?”

“Most are special order.”

“Isn’t owning these snakes against the law?”

“Only one of my eleven snakes is poisonous—the Diamondback rattlesnake from northern Wisconsin.” Tucker pointed to a cage in the far corner. “I have a special permit from the Department of Natural Resources to keep the rattler for scientific research.”

“But, is it safe to keep it in a private home?”

Tucker shook his head. “The rattlesnake is in a padlocked vivarium. If it should get out and bite, the person would have to be allergic or unable to get an immediate antidote in order to die from the venom.”

“How comforting.” A stone clattered off the ledge rimming the room.

“Be careful, Annabelle.”

I glanced around. The cages had labels with each snake’s name and classification.

“Annabelle’s on the prowl for food. Usually snakes are quite complacent but get agitated when hungry.”

Tucker pulled a heavy cardboard box from under a counter. I stood mesmerized as he opened the lid. Inside seven white mice scurried around helter-skelter. He turned the box on its side, removed the perforated metal mesh top of the glass cage, and shook the mice into it. “Dinnertime. Sorry, mice, time to die.”

I squealed. “You’re some kind of masochist.”

He appeared offended. “Nature’s food cycle, Jennifer.”

“I know, but…”

“Watch closely or you’ll miss it.” He never took his eyes off the ghastly, fascinating event. With a quick, barely perceptible move, the snake strangled and ingested each mouse in one smooth swallow. All seven mice were gone within seconds.

Finally, he placed the satiated snake in a glass-sided cage on the floor.

If it hadn’t been more than an hour since I’d eaten, I’m sure I’d have been sick.

“The warming brick in the cage helps Annabelle with digestion. Like that shiny skin? You’d be surprised how dull it gets when about to be shed.”

Good grief. Tucker was giving me a science lesson. He continued, “Sometimes they shed every couple weeks, really depends on how fast a snake is growing.”

Tucker affectionately picked up another reptile, a Florida Kingsnake, to fondle. My prior knowledge was zero, and I didn’t welcome today’s learning experience.

“This little guy will be about six feet. Want to hold King?”

“No thanks. Your snakes are incredible, just not my thing, sorry. Plus my children need to be tucked into bed. I can find my way out.” I inched to the door careful where I stepped. “I hope you enjoy the dinner I brought, nothing fancy, but it is home-cooked.”

“Great, I’m starved. Thanks for your kindness.” Tucker returned the Kingsnake to its cage. “I’m sorry you don’t like them.” His mouth turned down, and his voice trailed off.

I waited while he shut the door to the snake room and followed me. “I prefer pets that bark or meow and have legs.”

“I selected snakes because I’m away a lot, and they don’t need daily care.” He winked. “I don’t tell our friends about my herpetology hobby. Lenora was concerned our housekeeper, Estelle, would be squeamish being here with them. She doesn’t even know they’re here. I keep the room locked. You wouldn’t know either if you hadn’t wandered downstairs.”

“Never in my wildest fantasy would I picture you with an eighteen-foot Burmese snake crawling on your lap.” I started up the steps. “Does Lenora interact with them?”

“It took time, but she got used to them. She rather likes them now, in fact.”

“Seriously, don’t you think it’s dangerous? Somebody might have a heart attack just seeing them. I almost did.”

“I keep them tucked away for their safety so no one steps on them accidentally. They roam the house freely only when I’m home alone.”

The thought of putting my foot on one of these creatures in the dark appalled me.

Tucker added, “It’s a shame the snakes weren’t out the night Lenora was killed. Kirk might have thought twice.”

When I reached the front door I turned. “I don’t know when I’ve been so scared.”

Tucker smiled. “You provided my first chuckle since Lenora’s shooting.”

I wanted to say get your laughs another way but checked my tongue to avoid being rude. I had traipsed through his house without permission.

What else did he keep downstairs? I wondered as I whisked out.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I hurried home and immersed myself in ordinary household chores to dispel the horror of the previous hour. Folding laundry on my bed, I listened to Tara practice her speech for the next day, a persuasive on “Why We Need More Police.”

When she finished her presentation, I offered a critique. “Great eye contact. You barely looked at your notes. I can tell you’ve practiced well, but I’m not sure your reasons are convincing enough. More police protection on the streets isn’t necessarily the total answer to the crime problem as you suggest. I think you could stress the importance of strong families promoting a work ethic and responsible citizenship…”

Her eyes bored into me and her jaw set. “What are you saying? Why didn’t you tell me that last week when I asked if you liked my subject?”

“I do. The topic is great. I thought you’d delve deeper, that’s all. I don’t disagree with your arguments. Maybe if you add that families must also teach good values so the burden isn’t totally on the police…”

“Forget it. Thanks a lot for nothing!” She rolled her eyes and dashed from the room.

Where did that come from? She still had plenty of time to refine the speech. I’d praised her good points before pointing out the negative. Such a drama. Female hormones? I sighed. Being a mother and juggling other responsibilities wasn’t easy.

I always put family first. The children got both quantity and quality time from Nick and.me. What was her problem?

I left the laundry and headed into the family room. Dropping down next to Nick on the pillow-backed sofa, I closed my eyes and announced, “Tara’s in a mood. I pushed her buttons. Now she says she’s in a time panic to change her speech, but she’s got all night.”

“She spoke disrespectfully again?” Nick plucked the remote off the coffee table and turned down the TV news, giving me his undivided attention.

“Why does she think being defensive and temperamental is the way to assert independence?”

“Ignore her reaction. She needs to accept your criticism and make the changes.”

“I just wish she wouldn’t get so bent out of shape. Our parenting style doesn’t seem to be working.”

Nick chuckled. “It’s working, only she doesn’t like it or us at times.”

“Dislike I can deal with. Since when is parenting about being liked?” I smiled and went about the rest of my evening chores.

God, out of His love, created us with purpose. Tara needed to identify His plan for her and develop her interests accordingly. My great comfort regarding Lenora was knowing she loved Christ and that whatever happened to her she’d live in joy with Him forever. Still, I’d be lying if I said her brush with death didn’t scare me.

This shooting happened to Lenora, but it could be my body stretched flat on a hard cot, lingering in a valley of total vulnerability, connected by pronged, electrical outlets to the mechanical, artificial breath sustaining life. All life is brief. I had to make sure I taught my children well before I was gone.

God, please let me live to see my kids grown. And please take away any fear my humanness feels. I believe there’s an appointed hour when I shall leave earth. Nothing I do will speed or delay the time. But I want to complete your purposes first and share what I’ve learned with my children. I trust you now and forever.