Citizen Insane (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #2) (12 page)

Three words.

Ease his pain
.

Chapter Ten

I THINK I RAN OUT the door, but I’m not sure. I might have teleported. All I remember is standing on Peggy’s front lawn talking to a 911 operator.

“I’m at 2121 Dogwood Blossom Court. My friend is missing and her house smells like gas,” I sputtered.

“Are you in the house?”

“No.”

“Is anyone else in the house?”

“No.”

The lady operator was calm and efficient. “Why do you think your friend is missing?”

“There was a note.”

“Where?” she asked.

“In the house.”

“But you’re not in the house, right?”

“No I’m not in the house, but I was in the house and now I’m not in the house and it smells like gas and Peggy isn’t here and there’s a note written in blood.” I was definitely babbling.

“I understand you’re upset,” she said. “But I need you to stay calm.”

“Why does this keep happening to me?”

She paused so long I thought I’d lost my connection. “This has happened before?”

“Not exactly. I mean no. Can you just send someone please?”

“I’ve already dispatched fire and police Ma’am. Would you like me to stay on the line until they arrive?”

“No.” I disconnected without thinking. Then I dialed Roz. Voicemail.

“Roz. Come to Peggy’s quick. Bad. It’s very bad.”

Disconnect. I dialed Howard. Voicemail. Damn!

I screamed to no one in particular. “Doesn’t anyone answer their phones anymore?” That’s when I noticed a gray and bent lady two houses down, sweeping her driveway and giving me queer looks. “Have you seen Peggy Rubenstein?” I shouted. The lady dropped her broom and ran into her house.

My head was pounding when the first police cruiser arrived followed by two fire trucks and three more cruisers. The street was alive with disaster. A police officer introduced himself and asked what the problem was.

“I came by to see my friend but she’s not here and the house smells like gas and there’s a note written in blood on the refrigerator. And I don’t know if this matters, but I hit a woman with my van last night. She’d already been shot three times at close range. Maybe it’s related. Maybe not.”

That probably wasn’t the best thing to say.

The officer cocked his head and took a silent beat. Finally he asked, “Are you Agent Marr’s wife?”

“Do you know Howard?”

“No, but we’ve heard of you. I mean, him.”

Just then a fireman loaded with equipment stepped up. Just my luck, it was stud muffin Russell Crow.

I cringed. “Me again.”

He acknowledged me, but was all business. “Where’s the problem?”

“She smelled gas in the house,” said the officer. “You said your friend is missing. Did you go through the whole house?”

I shook my head.

“We’ll check it out,” said Crow. He was off to save the world. Or at least to find a gas leak.

A second uniformed policeman joined us while the first asked more questions. “Where is the bloody note again?”

“On the refrigerator. It said, ‘Ease his pain’.”

A few questions later, Russell Crow gave the all clear for the police to enter. “No leak. The gas oven was on without a flame.”

My friendly cop told me to stay near the cruiser while they investigated. About that time I spotted a helicopter circling the neighborhood. Gawkers had started congregating on the sidewalks and in the street.

Suddenly someone was talking in my ear. “What’s this all about?”

I jumped a mile high. It was Waldo. Again. “Dammit!” I screamed. “Now you’re really starting to piss me off. You’re like Huggermugger Houdini.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a compliment.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Waldo, I’m not in the mood . . .”

He put a clammy hand on my shoulder. “Barbara, I can see you are tense and at times like this, sometimes we just need our space. I’m going to grant you that space. But just remember, I’m always here if you need me. Always.”

As he walked away, several policemen began putting up barriers—to keep out the riff raff, I guessed. Wish they had done that a few minutes earlier.

Seconds after the barriers were placed, Roz screeched up in her mini-van. No one was letting her past. I was about to beg the nearest police officer, but Colt appeared waving a badge and a smile and next thing I knew they were at my side.

I hugged Roz then turned to Colt. “How did you know I was here?”

“I stopped by your house and didn’t find you there. When I heard the Fairfax County Police helicopters, I decided to follow them. Figured you’d be close to the trouble if not the cause of it.”

I punched him in the arm. “I’m really scared. Peggy’s door was open, she’s not there, the oven was on without a flame and there’s a note written in blood on her refrigerator.”

Roz looked beside herself. “What did it say?”

“Ease his pain.”

“Where have I heard that before?” asked Colt.

I would have answered, but a different policeman stepped up with a tube of red liquid in his hands. He held it up for us to see. “We’re ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure your bloody note isn’t really blood. It looks like this is the medium.”

I asked the obvious question. “What’s that?”

“Oh!” A shout came from behind us. “That’s mine!”

We turned around to see Peggy standing on the other side of the barricade, smile pasted on her pale Irish-freckled face. “What’s going on?”

“Is that your missing friend?” asked the cop.

If an artist had been around to render a caricature sketch of me, I would have looked like Elmer Fudd with a sunburn and steam coming out of my ears.

“Yes, sir,” answered Roz. “That’s our friend.”

It didn’t take long for the Fairfax County law enforcement and rescue services to pack up and head out. Russell Crow the handsome fire fighter stopped by to make sure I was okay. That was nice.

“I’m fine. Embarrassed, but fine,” I said.

“Don’t worry,” he assured me. “We’ve seen crazier.”

Colt felt he had to put his two cents worth in. “Just stick around this one. She raises the bar on the definition of crazy.”

Inside the house, the two remaining police officers took down Peggy’s official story. I’m not sure whether it was required for their report, or whether they just needed a good laugh.

Basically, it went like this—Peggy had decided to put a casserole in the oven for Michelle’s family. She forgot, as she often does, that her pilot was on the fritz and that she had to light it by hand. She had her writing class on her mind, so she was a little distracted. Just before she stepped out to check in on an elderly, house-ridden neighbor, she was struck with moment of literary genius. An idea popped into her head, but she had to run out the door fast because she needed to get back before the casserole was done. She grabbed the nearest thing she could find, a vial of fake blood from her son’s Halloween costume which had been lying in their kitchen all of these months. She dipped her finger in and wrote out the brilliant words, “Ease his pain,” then ran out to her neighbor’s. She figured she must have slammed the door, but it didn’t catch. That’s why it was open when I arrived.

The most amazing part of that story was that none of us knew that Peggy was taking a writing class.

“But Peggy,” I said. “That line has already been used.”

“Where?”

“
Field of Dreams
. You know, the movie with Kevin Costner. ‘If you build it, he will come’?”

“I LOVE that movie.” A look of horror crossed her face. “I’m a plagiarist.”

“I don’t think anyone will sue.”

The two uniformed men scribbled a few more notes then left with grins on their faces. They probably figured that was the most fun they were going to have all day.

“Well, I have some interesting news,” said Peggy after they left. “Just now, on my way back, I ran into the Alexander’s neighbor. She said that Michelle is still in the ICU in critical condition. And Lance Alexander is being held for suspicion of attempted murder.”

Chapter Eleven

“MY, THAT’S TERRIBLE NEWS.”

EVERYBODY turned to see Waldo had joined our group.

This guy was like a bad virus that wouldn’t die. “Waldo, I thought you were going for a walk.”

“I have a route.” He pointed up the street. “I turn around at Black Cherry Tree Lane. I’m on my way home now.”

Lucky us.

“I have to say,” he continued, “that I just can’t imagine Lance Alexander doing such a thing. He loves her so deeply.” He shook his head as if feeling Lance’s pain. “Calls her his Pooh Bear.”

“What did you say?”

“She told me that was his nickname for her. Pooh Bear. Why?”

“Nothing.”

Colt’s eye narrowed. He didn’t care for Waldo. In fact I think he disliked him even more than I did. “Don’t you need to keep moving to make a walk worth the effort?”

Waldo stared at Colt for a few silent seconds. “I’m detecting negative energy. I know some exercises to help relieve tension, or if that doesn’t work, I could prescribe an excellent anti-anxiety medication.”

Colt didn’t respond, but I knew him. He was imagining a far more effective tension reliever—using Waldo as a punching bag.

I thought Colt’s negative energy might have shut Waldo up, but it didn’t. “Anyway, I heard that Bunny Bergen and Michelle had a fight after the PTA meeting last night and Bunny threatened to kill Michelle. In my mind, that makes Bunny far more suspect than Lance.”

I looked at Roz and Roz looked at Peggy. Peggy was scraping at something on her shirt.

How did Waldo know about the fight? We were the only three around. Then I remembered the other car.

“Did you tell the police this story?” Roz was talking slowly and cautiously.

“Well,” Waldo cleared his throat. “No. Technically, my words would be hearsay, since I didn’t personally observe the argument. Probably not my place to approach the police.”

I squinted at Waldo long and hard. What was he up to? I wondered if his “source” had mentioned that we were there when the Bunny and Michelle ruckus went down. If so, was he hinting that we should come forward?

Peggy must have finally been paying attention, because she piped up. “But, wait a minute—”

Roz cut her off at that pass. “Peggy, you need to get that casserole actually COOKING, don’t you? Come on, I’ll help.” She moved Peggy toward her house and I could see there was some whispering going on.

Looking at my watch gave me a good reason to cut the conversation short. “Hey!” I yelled to them, “I have to get back to the house, Callie will be home any minute and I don’t think she has her key.”

Colt and I left faster than two convicts on a prison break, leaving Waldo all alone on the sidewalk.

Two minutes later we were in my house and I was standing in the front of the refrigerator trying to decide between a cold iced tea or a cold glass of wine. Colt grabbed an apple from my fruit bowl. Taking a milk carton from the top shelf, I abandoned the idea of tea or wine in lieu of good ol’ fashioned Oreos and milk. The best way to drown my sorrows.