Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 02 - Inn the Doghouse (19 page)

The older woman shook her head. “I got drunk.”

“DUI?”

“No. I don’t have a car. I was just walking, but I got cold and went into some of the stores in town to get warm and the owners didn’t appreciate it. They called the police and, well, here I am.”

Liz and I studied the cell. It was the size of a small bedroom, all concrete, with the concrete bench built in. I looked at the bench. There was no way I would sit on that.

But Liz sat beside the woman without hesitation. “Do you need an attorney?”

“Boy, do I ever, but I can’t afford one.”

Liz smiled. “You can now. I’m an attorney. If I don’t lose my license for being arrested, that is.”

Surely, our own brother wouldn’t list this as an official arrest. I hoped.

The woman eyed Liz. “What kind of attorney can’t even keep herself out of jail?”

Liz started laughing. “You’ve got a point there.” She stuck out her hand. “My name is Liz Eklund.”

The woman hesitantly put out her hand and let Liz shake it. “They call me Annie.”

“Well, Annie, it’s good to meet you.”

“They’ll let us have our phone call soon,” Liz said, “and then we’ll get you bailed out with us.”

It always amazed me to watch Liz in action. That is why she became an attorney—to help those in need. She didn’t want the money, after all, and she volunteered much of her time. She tried to act so tough, but on rare occasions, she wasn’t as smart as me. She had just stated her name. What if Paul was videotaping us?

The woman looked at me. “And what’s your name?”

“Liz Eklund,” I said.

The woman laughed. “Sure you’re an attorney, lady. I’m not so drunk that I’m seeing double yet. You’re making fun of an old woman.”

“Actually, no,” I said. “We just don’t want the police to know who is who. One of us is Vicki Butler and the other is Liz Eklund.”

The woman shrugged. “I’ll just call you Red-One and Red-Two.”

“Won’t be the first time,” Liz said.

The door clanged open and Vonda appeared. A petite and perky lady, Paul’s secretary made over-fifty look good. She worked out religiously and looked fabulous, her hair in a short, spiky, always stylish cut. She’d been married to her high school sweetheart, now the coach of the local high school, for twenty-five years.

“Hi, Vonda,” Liz said. “When do we get to make our phone call?”

“Don’t think you’ll need to make one,” the woman said. “There’s a police officer here to pick you up.”

What? Did Paul create his own scenario and now intended to show up as our rescuer? After
he
stuck us in jail? I immediately saw I was wrong when DeWayne came into the room with a big grin while shaking his head. “When will you girls stop getting into trouble?”

Vonda unlocked the door and DeWayne came into the cell. Big, muscled, and handsome, he was a welcome sight—if he’d come to rescue us. But what if Paul sent him because he could tell us apart?

“DeWayne,” I said, “did you come to rescue us?”

He nodded at me, but his eyes zeroed in on Liz. He looked worried, and, when he spoke, he sounded worried, too. “Are you all right?”

Okay, she did look pale, but what was I?
Chopped liver
?

Liz nodded. “I’m fine. Thanks for coming.”

He took one of her hands. “Liz, I would do anything for you. You know that.”

“Oh, DeWayne, I—”

He wrapped her in his arms and held her close, his love for her ever visible. “I will never let anything bad happen to you. You know that.”

Annie looked at me. “Wow. That never happened to me in here.”

Liz clung to him. When they pulled back, she opened her mouth to speak, but he held a finger to her lips. “Let me finish. While I have a captive audience.”

Then DeWayne Smith, Silver City police officer, stunned us both by taking one of her hands and going down on one knee. “Liz, I love you. I always have. I want to take care of you. I want you and me to be
us
again. I want to marry you.” He laughed shakily. “I didn’t intend to do this here, in a jail cell, but I can’t bear to see you in trouble for even one minute more.”

Annie put her hands to her chest. “That is so sweet.”

I sank down beside Annie. “Sweet, but not very romantic.”

“I think it’s
very
romantic.”

He stood up and held her hand, waiting. “I’ll ask again in a restaurant or somewhere more romantic, but please tell me I at least have a chance with you, Liz.”

“DeWayne,” Liz’s lips quivered and she paused, obviously shaken. “I’m not sure how to word this. I’m not ready for this. I really need you as a friend right now while I work through things.”

He looked as if she just slapped him.

“I’m so sorry.” She reached out to touch his arm, but he shrugged off her hand.

I thought I saw the glitter of tears in his eyes, and I wanted to smack my sister upside the head.

Even the shabbily dressed woman beside me said, “She could have handled that better.”

Poor guy. In front of the old lady and me, too. And Vonda, who was staring open-mouthed through the bars.

He took a step back, the hurt showing in his eyes. “I obviously misread the signs. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

He walked through the door as Vonda opened it for him, and left us.

Behind.

Still locked in.

I stood to follow him, but by the time I reached the door, Vonda was closing it on us.

“But,” I began.

“Sorry, Vicki.” She shrugged.

I whirled on Liz. “Couldn’t you have at least waited until he bailed us out of jail before you broke his heart?”

“Legally, he wouldn’t be posting bail, he—”

I cut her off. “Skip the legal crap. He came to bail us out, and you let him walk out of here without us. Did you see his face when you ripped out his heart?”

Annie nodded her head and hiccupped. “You’re a
mean
attorney, aren’t you?” She looked at me and confided, “That’s okay. I don’t really need one. The police chief brings me in here when it gets too cold so I can warm up and eat a few meals.”

Who knew my brother could be such a nice guy?

Bad news? My brother was nicer to a homeless person than he was to his own sisters.

Liz sank down onto the concrete bench and started crying. “Gene and I had our problems, and I’ve been divorcing him for a little over a month. I’m much too torn up now to get involved with anyone. It wouldn’t be fair to either DeWayne or me. I’ve always cared for DeWayne, either since we dated in high school, and I still have feelings for him. I just need some time to figure out my feelings. I buried my husband only three days ago.”

“So why didn’t you tell DeWayne
that
? —Instead of that
just a friend
crap? And why couldn’t you have told him
after
he busted us out?” I repeated, incredulous. I threw my hands in the air. “Now what are we going to do?”

Annie leaned closer to me until I caught the scent of alcohol wafting from her clothes. “Gin helps pass the time.”

Shocked, I stared at the woman. “I don’t drink.”

She rummaged in her big purse and finally came up triumphantly with what I expected to be a flask of gin.

It was a deck of cards. She smiled. “Twos are wild.”

~ ~ ~

I have never endured such misery for hours.
Ever
. But maybe that was because I never passed the time of day—any time, any day—
in jail
before.

Well, okay, maybe giving birth or having my husband die were worse, but I couldn’t think of anything else that could top it.

I glanced at the toilet in the corner and wished I didn’t need to use it—or at least one of its more civilized and private cousins. It would have to be a cold day in hell before I pulled my pants down in public to use this particularly disgusting brushed metal thing. I would hold it all night if I had to, being determined not to touch, sit, squat, or even approach it in public. In fact, I would wet my pants before I used it—and then I would kill Paul for leaving me in here.

Speaking of my horrid brother, when did he plan to let us out? I was ready to tell him I was really Vicki if he would just come back. The truth really would set me free.

I glanced over at Liz and got angry all over again. “See if I ever save you again.”

Sitting on the opposite bench, she bristled. “Save me? We’re in jail. Thanks to you, Ms. Parent Trap.”

“Well, we would have been busted out hours ago but, no thanks to you, Ms. Break A Good Man’s Heart.”

The clang of metal sounded and the new officer, Miguel Hernandez, a young, single guy fresh out of the Salt Lake City Police Academy, opened the door.

Liz stood up and spouted off some legal speak, demanding her phone call and threatening all kinds of dire consequences, and, seeing him smile, she finally instructed him to take his head out of his posterior.

He smiled at her. “It’s been up there so long, I’m not sure I can do that anymore, ma’am.”

He called my sister ma’am? He was lucky to remain alive.

Liz huffed and sat back down. “I’m going to sue.”

I looked over at Miguel hopefully. “Can we go now?”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He shook his head and pointed to the old lady. “Okay, Annie. Time for your shower.”

Did he just call
me
ma’am, too? What was I supposed to call him?
Young whippersnapper
?

Annie stood, dusting off her shabby clothes, as she looked pointedly at Liz. “Just one tip, Ms. Mean Attorney. If anyone else comes here and proposes, say
yes.
You’re an attorney so I know you’ve already learned how to lie.”

I watched the older woman leave the cell.

“We could use a potty break,” I said.

Miguel said, “You’ll have to wait until I bring Annie back.”

That was the most excitement we had for the next hour or so. I glanced at the toilet again and crossed my legs tighter.

We were stuck in the cell about four hours before Paul finally came in.

I clutched the bars. “I confess. I’m Vicki. Please let us out.”

He actually looked contrite. “I thought you were already released. I’ve been in Park City for the last few hours. I’m sorry. DeWayne was supposed to come in, identify Liz, bring her up to my office for questioning, and let you go, Vicki.”

“And I really do need to go,” I said. “Right now.”

He opened the door and I walked with my legs tightly clenched. He studied me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I told you.
I. Really. Need. To. Go.
”

Liz looked at him icily. “I’m still going to sue.”

“Give me a break, Liz. I put you in here for what I thought was an hour because you refused to tell me who was who.”

She sniffed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Here’s what
I’m
thinking,” I said. “If the local police chief doesn’t let me use the bathroom
right now
and I end up wetting my pants, then
I’m
going to sue. My Bladder vs. the Silver City Police Department. It won’t be pretty.”

He motioned me toward the door. “Go. You know where it is.”

Luckily for Paul and the Silver City Police Department, I made it. Barely. I was still simmering when I met them in the hallway.

We followed him out to his squad car. Climbed in. Waited for a long moment, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. “What happens now?”

Paul peeled rubber out of the station parking lot and onto Mountain Boulevard, slamming me back against the seat. That meant he was ticked off. “Before I answer that, just let me say that you both need a good spanking. Lying to an officer is no joke, even if he is your brother. Liz, you ought to know better, at least. You’re supposed to be such a hotshot attorney.”

“A
mean
one, too,” I said.

“A
stupid
one,” Paul said, and paused. “I’m sorry you were left in there so long. I still need to talk to you, Liz, but I’ll do it back at the Inn if Vicki can find an empty room for us.”

I said, “I can do that.”

Paul drove in silence for a moment.

I stared out the car window at the snow-topped mountain, the trees, whose leaves had long ago flown, and the valley below. Each season on the mountain was more beautiful than the last. That’s why I loved living here.

Liz drew in a deep breath and I turned to look at her.

Paul murmured, almost to himself. “I wonder why DeWayne didn’t let you out.”

“Oh, Officer Smith came in, all right,” I told him. “And he declared his undying love to poor, little damsel-in-distress Liz. He
proposed
to her, down on bended knee, in a jail cell.”