I Shall Not Want (11 page)

“I hope so. Could you give Bernadette a message from me when you see her?”

“Of course I can deliver it, but you might want to wait a couple of minutes and give it to her yourself. I think that’s her coming down the street,” he said, pointing.

Cindy turned to look and recognized first Ginger then Bernadette. She broke out in a smile. “Thank you, I think I will give her the message myself.”

Cindy walked to meet the woman and dog. When she got close, she called out to them, and Bernadette’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Cindy, what are you doing here, child?”

“I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you,” Cindy confessed. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse, so I guess that means middlin’, as they say,” Bernadette responded.

Cindy smiled. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Ginger and I hadn’t really thought a lot about it yet, but we’ll probably spend it here with hot food and good company. That’s what I’ve done the last two years, and it’s pretty nice. Why do you ask?”

“I’m having a few friends over to my house for Thanksgiving dinner, and I was wondering if you and Ginger would like to come?”

“Will there be anyone I know there?”

“Um, well, Joseph will be there. And I don’t know if you know Harry, but he’s coming.”

“Harry?” the old lady pursed her lips in thought. “Is that the Harry who volunteers here at the shelter?”

“I don’t think so,” Cindy said. “I think he’s a regular here.”

“Then it must not be the same Harry that we’re thinking of. Joseph is coming, though, you said?”

“Yes, he is.”

The old lady smiled. “Ginger and I would be honored to dine with you at your house. At what time will you expect us?”

“Two o’clock.”

“Perfect.”

Cindy was prepared, and she pulled a piece of paper out of her purse with her address and directions from the shelter to her house written on it. She winced at the scrawl. She had scribbled it down right before heading into the youth room that afternoon. It probably would have been much easier to read if she had typed it up and printed it out instead. “I hope you can read my writing, I wrote it in a hurry,” she said apologetically.

Bernadette took it from her. “My dear, I was a teacher for thirty years, I assure you I can read anyone’s handwriting.”

A teacher?
Cindy thought.

“What happened to you?” Cindy asked before she could stop herself. “No, don’t answer, it’s none of my business,” she hastily added.

Bernadette patted her arm. “It’s all right, dear. Five years ago I was living with my niece after my husband ran off to Argentina with his secretary and everything we had. My niece’s husband was an abusive man, and I tried to take a stand, help her like I could never help myself. It backfired. She kicked me out of the house. I had nowhere to go, but I had a friend here who said I could come stay with her. Turned out she was nutty as a fruitcake, and they had to commit her to an institution. I had nothing—no family to go to, no job, and no place to stay. It wasn’t long before I was on the streets. I made a few friends, like Sammy, who taught me the ropes, and made it all bearable. I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cindy said.

“Why? You didn’t kick me out of your house. At least, not yet,” Bernadette said, the hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes.

Cindy bit back a smile. “Well, seeing as you were a teacher, I’ll expect nothing but impeccable manners from you.”

“If you insist on being boring,” Bernadette said. “I will be on my best behavior. However, I cannot make any promises for Ginger. She’s her own lady in that regard.”

Cindy spontaneously hugged Bernadette.

“What was that for?”

“Just because.”

“That’s a good enough reason for me.” Bernadette glanced upward. “You better get home, it looks like rain.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes, you will. And thank you.”

Ginger barked as though adding her own thank you, and Cindy grinned all the way back to her car.

A few minutes later she drove around to the side of the Plusmart and parked next to the recycling bin for cardboard, a large green container that looked like it should be used to ship cargo. Slits in it near the top ran the length of the container. Huge signs covered the outside of the container instructing recyclers to remove all staples, labels, and packing tape and to completely flatten boxes before dumping them inside.

As she stepped out of her car, the rain that had been threatening began to pour down.

“Give me a break!” she yelled to the sky as she scurried to open her trunk. She grabbed hold of the top box and yanked it as hard as she could. It half came out of her trunk before catching on the lip and starting to tear. She freed it and struggled to get it the rest of the way out.

The loose end came free and landed on the ground. She let go with her left hand, slammed the trunk, and then tried to grab halfway down it. She half-dragged, half-carried the box the five feet to the side of the dumpster. The slots for depositing the cardboard were horizontal and a foot from the top of the bin. She hoisted the cardboard up and angled the top into the opening of the dumpster. She then stooped, grabbed the
bottom, and lifted, rain pelting her in the face, and started to slide it into the container. She gave it one hard shove, which should have finished the job, but it stuck halfway.

She grabbed the protruding edge and pushed hard. It didn’t budge. The front end had dipped down and must have caught on some of the cardboard already stacked inside. She pushed upward, trying to lift the entire thing enough to unsnag it, and then pushed again. It wouldn’t budge.

Rain began to pelt down harder, and she considered leaving it as it was. She let go and took a step backward, but the whole thing tilted and began to slide back her way. She caught it and craned her neck, trying to see what was blocking her way. It was too dark inside the container to see anything.

She got a better grip on the cardboard, lined it back up with the slot, and prepared to ram it in as hard and as fast as she could. She took a deep breath, tensed her muscles, pushed the cardboard forward, and a bloody hand reached out of the bin to block it.

11

C
INDY SCREAMED
,
DROPPED THE CARDBOARD
,
AND RACED TO HER CAR
. S
HE
locked the door and threw the car into reverse. Just as she was about to stomp the gas, a thought stopped her. Whoever was in that recycling bin was injured, and the odds were far better that it was someone who had been attacked than it was an attacker. Still, there was no way she was going to risk her life to go back and find out.

She turned and kept her eyes trained on the dumpster as she reached for her cell phone to call 911. As soon as she hung up, every fiber of her being urged her to drive as far away as she could as fast as she could. She hesitated, though, and waited, foot hovering between the brake and the gas pedal until she heard sirens.

She breathed deeply and put the car back into park. When the fire engine pulled up in the parking lot a few feet from her, she turned off her ignition and opened the door.

“Are you the one who called for help?” a man yelled to her.

She nodded and pointed toward the bin. “There’s someone in there, and I think they’re hurt.”

As three firemen surrounded the dumpster, an ambulance and police arrived on the scene, as well. The rain was still coming
down, but as she stood next to her car and watched the scene unfold, Cindy ceased to care.

One of them shone a flashlight into the darkness. “There’s a man inside! Sir, are you okay, can you hear me?”

Cindy didn’t know if he answered, but the fireman continued. “We’ll have you out of there in a minute. Just hold on.”

Cindy watched in fascinated horror as the firemen worked to open the bin. After a couple of minutes they were lifting a man out of it. They held him aloft for a moment before putting him down on a stretcher provided by the EMTs. Cindy stepped closer to see who it was that had been stuffed inside.

She gasped and then flipped her phone open and dialed Mark.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Firemen just pulled a man out of a cardboard recycling bin behind Plusmart grocery.”

“I know. I’ve been following on the scanner. Somehow when I heard that a woman had called it in, I figured it had to be you. Glad to hear that it’s ended okay. He probably has you to thank for that.”

“I think you should get down here.”

“Since he’s alive, there’s no need for homicide to get involved, so no need for me to come down.”

“That’s a mistake,” she said.

“Why?” he asked sharply.

“Because I’m standing here looking at him. It’s Harry, one of the homeless guys from the charity event. He’s been beaten pretty badly, and I don’t see his dog.”

The paramedics moved the stretcher into the ambulance, and Cindy followed. “Can I see him for a minute?” she asked the paramedic who was hooking him up to a machine.

“Just a minute,” he said.

Cindy hopped up in the ambulance and looked at Harry. The old man opened his eyes and saw her. The ghost of a smile flitted across his face. How could anyone have done this to him? He had never hurt a fly. She thought of how much he had loved his dog, and rage gripped her. The only hope she felt was in the fact that just a couple hours earlier Buff had been discovered alive. That meant there was a chance Harry’s dog was alive and well somewhere and might find his way back.

“I know some people believe in reincarnation, but did they seriously have to try and recycle me?” Harry whispered.

She stared at him for a moment, wondering if she could possibly have heard him right. “Harry, was that a joke?”

“Sorry. Wasn’t it funny? The people at the shelter keep telling me I’ve got to stop that.”

“No, Harry, that’s great. You keep it up,” she said.

“I mean, I know what people think about me, but would another cardboard box really be an improvement?”

She was laughing while tears fell on her already wet cheeks.

Harry closed his eyes, and his face seemed to relax a bit. Panicked, she turned to look at the paramedic.

“The medication kicked in. He’ll be out of it for a little while. I’ll have to ask you to leave now. You can visit him at the hospital later if you want to.”

“Okay, thank you,” Cindy said, climbing down out of the ambulance reluctantly.

She stood and watched as another paramedic closed up the back of the ambulance before moving around to the front. A minute later the vehicle moved out of the parking lot. The siren and lights flicked on, and cars scattered on the street as the ambulance shot out into traffic.

Cindy started walking back toward her car but stopped as Mark drove up next to her. “Get in out of the rain so we can
talk,” he instructed, indicating his passenger seat with a jerk of his head.

“Tell me what happened,” he said once she was inside.

She recounted the event; it took less than a minute to tell. When she was finished, he nodded.

“He’ll probably be out for a couple of hours. We can question him later. Okay, thanks, you can go.”

“What are you going to do?” Cindy asked.

“I’m meeting Paul at Joseph’s house so we can ask him some more questions.”

“I want to come.”

“I didn’t say we were going for dinner,” Mark growled.

“I know, but I might be able to think of something else.”

“Well, I can’t stop you if you want to drive up there to visit him and it happens to coincide with our visit,” he said in a tired voice.

“Thank you,” she said, opening the door and dashing across the open ground to her car. She started the engine, cranked up the heater, and headed out of the parking lot.

Fortunately, Joseph’s house wasn’t that far away so it didn’t take too long to get there. Both Mark and Paul had arrived before her. When she rang the doorbell, Joseph answered and escorted her into the living room, where the three of them were talking.

“So there goes the theory that this was somehow a robbery gone bad,” Mark said. “The dogs provided by the shelter weren’t wearing any kind of sparkles on their collars. Also, Buff was returned with his intact. If they took it thinking it was diamonds, I doubt they would have returned it to him when they discovered that it was only crystals.”

“So what else could it be?” Joseph asked as he sat back down.

“Is there anyone who would want to sabotage this program or hurt you personally?” Paul asked.

“We’ve had a couple of angry letters from some of the animal rights’ groups.”

“Which ones? The ones legitimately trying to stamp out abuse or the radical ones that are against pet ownership entirely?”

“One from each, I believe. We sent the first one full details on our program, what veterinarians were participating, how we were planning on making sure the animals were fed, cared for, looked out for, and so on. We sent them details on the whole thing.”

“The whole thing?” Mark asked. “That’s an awful lot of detail. You didn’t also happen to send them lists of the people involved, did you?”

“No, but they had a representative on hand that day just to observe the proceedings.”

Mark and Paul exchanged a glance, and Cindy would have given a lot to know what it meant.

“What about the more radical group?” Mark asked. “How did you respond to them?”

Joseph shrugged. “Nothing, frankly. Until pet ownership is made illegal in this country, those people won’t be happy with anything. And I wasn’t about to give them information they could use against our participants.”

“Any chance both letters actually came from the same group instead of two different ones?” Cindy asked.

Joseph shrugged. “I don’t think so, but I really can’t say for certain. I mean, if they were actually trying to hide their identity, I’m not sure we’d be able to tell if it was really one group instead of two.”

“We’re going to need to see all the correspondence you’ve had with both groups,” Paul said.

“Of course,” Joseph said, then hesitated. “It might take some time to find, though.”

“And why is that?” Mark jumped in.

“Derek handled all those types of issues, and so far I haven’t had a lot of success figuring out his filing system.”

“I can help,” Cindy heard herself volunteering.

Suddenly all eyes were on her. She shrugged. “I am a secretary, and I’ve worked with the major filing systems commonly used.”

“You’re drafted,” Mark said. “I’ll draw you up a list of everything I want found.”

“What about the protestors who were present at the event?” Cindy asked, remembering the angry faces, the signs, and the guy who had jumped in front of her car.

“I think I have pictures of everyone who was there,” Joseph said. “I can give you those if it would help,” he said to Mark.

“They would. Maybe one of them has a history of radical protesting.”

“You mean the kind of protesting that sinks boats and kills lumberjacks?” Cindy guessed.

“The very kind,” Mark said grimly.

The police asked a few more questions and then left for the hospital, hoping that when Harry woke up he’d be able to tell them something about his assailant. Cindy fought the urge to go with them. There was a real chance Harry would be able to identify his attacker and the whole thing would be solved and the killer arrested. That would truly be something to be thankful about. In case Harry couldn’t help them, though, they would still need the letters she had promised to help find.

She glanced at her watch. It was seven. Her stomach growled noisily just as Joseph returned from seeing the detectives out.

“I was going to make myself a sandwich, you want one?”

“Yes, please.”

She followed him into the kitchen.

“It’s getting late. You don’t have to start on those files tonight,” he said.

She shook her head. “I can’t work on them tomorrow, and the sooner the police have them, the better. No, hopefully I can find what they need tonight.”

“I certainly hope so, but I’m not holding my breath,” Joseph admitted. “There’s a lot of files.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

Joseph put together roast beef sandwiches and handed her one. Almost on cue Clarice trotted into the room with Buff at her heels. The two of them sat down, assuming the time-honored begging pose.

“I bet Clarice was happy to see you, little guy,” Cindy said to Buff.

“Was she ever. She was much happier, though, once I gave him a bath. She didn’t like whatever she smelled all over him.”

“If he smelled anything like he looked, I can’t blame her,” Cindy said. “He was a mess.”

They ate quickly, washing the sandwiches down with some milk. When they were finished, Cindy followed Joseph toward the stairs. “You know, I’ve never had a tour of your house. I’ve only seen just a couple of rooms.”

“Remind me to give you the full tour later. I warn you, though, I’m not the best tour guide.”

They reached the second floor landing and turned to the right. The doors along the hall were standing open. “My office you’ve seen,” he said as they passed.

“How could I forget?”

“And the guest room the police used as a holding pen last week.”

“Yup, won’t be forgetting that one anytime soon,” she confirmed.

“Here’s another guest room.”

She glanced in at the masculine room with lots of wood and deep red carpet and accents. It was a bit overpowering, and she wrinkled her nose as she backed out of it.

“It can be a bit much,” Joseph said with the ghost of a smile. He paused outside the next door. “And this is the room where I keep all the things I don’t know what else to do with.”

She glanced in. The walls were decorated with plaques, display shelves held awards and what looked like at least two keys to cities, and on the floor there were a dozen signs and displays, including one full-size cardboard cutout of him.

“Wow, that’s… weird.”

“Tell me about it. The awards are great. Some of the displays are a little strange, but people give them to me and then I don’t know what to do with them. It seems a little ungrateful to destroy them or toss them out, so I put them in here. I guess it’s kind of a memento room.”

“It’s like a giant, three-dimensional scrapbook.”

He tilted his head to the side. “You know, I think you just hit the nail on the head.”

“You know, there are groups for this sort of thing,” she joked. “If you need a support group, I’m sure I can find you a number.”

“Careful, or I’ll hire you to go through the tens of thousands of family photographs I’ve got stacked in closets around here.”

Cindy groaned. “I think I’ll pass.”

“I can’t say that I blame you. If I don’t want to do it, why would anybody else?”

“If they really are family photos, you might consider contacting the historical society. After all, your family practically founded this town.”

“You know, that’s really not a bad idea. I’ll definitely think about it. Okay, moving on,” he said, ushering her to the next room. “Here’s Derek’s office.”

They stepped into a large room lined with a couple dozen filing cabinets. A massive wooden desk dominated the center of the room.

“This was Derek’s office?”

“Yup. Before him it was Tina’s office. She was my last assistant. She was really good too. She got married to a guy on the East Coast and moved. This is where I keep all the files. My office is where I work but not where I store things. I find so many containers filled with paper to be a bit oppressive, certainly depressing.”

“Given the sheer volume, I can see why,” she said. She squared her shoulders and refused to despair over the task at hand. “Please tell me you have at least an idea of where I can start,” she said. When she volunteered for the job, she never dreamed what an enormous task lay before her. It might take her through the long weekend to find what she was looking for unless she could figure out Derek’s filing system.

“I wish I could,” Joseph said grimly.

He walked over and indicated three filing cabinets standing side by side. “As you can see from the labels, these are supposed to be for charity work. That was how my last assistant set them up. However, I haven’t been able to find a single thing in them about Friday’s event or Animals to the Rescue.”

He opened the top drawer of the desk and pulled out a set of keys. “These unlock the filing cabinets if you need them.”