I Shall Not Want (14 page)

“I do,” Bernadette said.

“You’re drafted.”

Bernadette came into the kitchen, washed her hands thoroughly, and then took the carving knife from Cindy reverently. “It’s been a long time since I was asked to carve a bird.”

“We’re grateful to you for doing it,” Cindy said.

“Here, let me show you how,” Bernadette said.

Cindy watched, fascinated, as Bernadette carved the bird, and by the end she wasn’t entirely convinced that she could replicate the method, but she thought she might be willing to try.

As Cindy carried the platter of meat to the table, she called everyone to sit down.

“Jeremiah, would you offer up a prayer for us?” she asked once they were all seated.

He looked at her, startled. “Me?”

“Unless there’s another rabbi in the room,” she said.

“Adonai, we ask your blessing upon us this day and this meal we share. May it honor you.”

“Amen,” the others chorused.

Jeremiah picked up a glass of sparkling cider. “
L’chaim
.”

“To life!” everyone else roared in unison.

They all drank, and as Jeremiah set down his glass, he remarked, “Everyone here has seen
Fiddler on the Roof
, I take it?”

Cindy nearly spewed her cider. She managed to swallow it and laughed along with everyone else.

Silence descended as they all began to eat.

When they were finished eating, Joseph began clearing the table. Geanie stood up and grabbed Cindy’s hand, dragging her toward the back of the house.

She pulled her into the bathroom and closed the door behind them.

“Geanie, what’s up?” Cindy demanded.

“I needed to talk to you in private.”

“And we couldn’t have talked in the bedroom or the office?” Cindy asked, incredulous.

“I have a problem. I think Joseph likes me.”

Cindy smirked. “Yes, because tall, dark, and rich is sooo unattractive.”

“I’m serious! I don’t date people from work.”

“Joseph doesn’t work at the church.”

“I know, but he’s a member, so it’s kind of like dating a coworker.”

Cindy looked her in the eyes. “Geanie, sometimes you just have to take a chance.”

Geanie took a deep breath. “You’re right. Some things are worth the risk.”

“That’s right, now go get him.”

They exited the bathroom and walked back into the living room. Geanie approached Joseph, who was just putting the pies down on the table. When his hands were free, he turned to her. Geanie put her hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him.

Cindy blinked in surprise.

Geanie stepped away, and Joseph stared at her for a moment before putting a hand behind her head and pulling her back.

“What on earth did you say to her?” Jeremiah asked Cindy as Joseph and Geanie kissed.

“Go get him. I thought maybe she’d flirt, or ask him out to coffee or something.”

“Well, that’s definitely something,” he said, laughing and coughing all at once.

“Yeah, it sure is. Can I get you apple or pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin, please.”

Cindy walked over to the table, cut a slice of the pumpkin pie, and put it on a plate. She carried it back to Jeremiah, along with a clean fork.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

She returned to the table and took her seat. Geanie and Joseph both took theirs as well, and Geanie set about serving the pie. A minute later Cindy was biting into apple pie that was surprisingly good.

“Wow, Geanie, you’d never know this wasn’t homemade,” Cindy said.

“Thanks.”

There was a loud knock on the door. Cindy jumped up to get it. When she opened the door, she was stunned to see Mark and Paul standing there, a couple of uniformed officers behind them.

“What’s happened?” she asked, fear flooding through her. “Has someone else been killed?”

“We need to come in,” Mark said, not looking her in the eyes.

She stepped back and opened the door wide. The policemen rushed inside, and the uniformed officers pulled Joseph up from his seat at the table. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jeremiah sit up with a start.

“Joseph Coulter, you’re under arrest for the murder of Derek, Larry, and several others,” Mark began.

“What?” Cindy gasped. Joseph turned to look at her, shock and fear mingling together on his face.

“This is preposterous,” Geanie flared, standing up.

“Everyone settle down!” Paul said, his deep voice booming and freezing everyone in place.

“You have to be kidding, you know he couldn’t have done this,” Cindy pleaded, staring at Mark.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Mark continued as Joseph was handcuffed. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Cindy turned to look at Jeremiah. His eyes were cold, hard, and when he caught her gaze he shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the court,” Mark kept going.

The officers were at the door, hauling Joseph outside. Cindy turned and looked, and realized that the squad car was parked on her lawn. Clarice appeared next to her, and a low, rumbling growl came from the dog.

“Cindy! Take care of Clarice,” Joseph begged.

Cindy laid her hand on the dog’s head, and then slipped her fingers around the plain red collar she now wore. She could feel the tension running through the dog. If she attacked the police, though, it would just make the whole situation worse for everyone involved.

“Ssh,” she soothed.

She watched, helpless, as they pushed Joseph into the back of the squad car. With a sob Geanie finally moved, racing over next to Cindy. Together they stood and watched as the car left, Joseph slumped in the back of it.

Cindy turned to Mark. “How could you?” she demanded.

“It’s nothing personal,” he said. “We have evidence that he did it, and we had to move before anyone else got hurt.”

“You could have warned me, called, something.”

“That’s not how we do things,” Paul said. “Come on, Mark, they’ll need us at the station.”

As the detectives drove away, Geanie began to sob uncontrollably. Cindy felt a hand descend on her shoulder and twisted around to see Jeremiah staring intently at her.

“If he’s guilty, this is for the best. If he’s innocent, we’ll make sure he’s cleared,” he promised.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She closed the door and let go of Clarice, who whined and scratched at it. Geanie staggered over to the table and collapsed back into her chair. Everyone pushed their half-eaten pie away from them. It was a shame, Cindy thought, it had been really good pie. Joseph had been right. Thanksgiving had spun completely and utterly out of control.

14

A
FTER EVERYONE HAD FINISHED PICKING AT THEIR DESSERTS AND THE FOOD
had all been put away and the dishes washed, the party broke up.

Geanie’s friend left, offering to drive Bernadette and Ginger to the shelter, and they went with her. For a minute Geanie, Jeremiah, and Cindy just stared at each other. Clarice finally stopped whining and settled down with a look of misery on her face.

Cindy looked at her and felt bad for the dog. She glanced around the room. “Where’s Buff?” she asked, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t seen the puppy since the police arrived.

The other two looked around as well and then shook their heads. Cindy lurched to her feet. “Buff?”

Oh, please, not again.
“Buff!”

Clarice jumped to her feet and whined.

“Did he run outside when the door was open?” Geanie asked. “We might not have seen him in the confusion.”

“I don’t know,” Cindy said, looking under the table and then checking behind the sofa.

“I’ll check outside,” Geanie said, exiting the front door.

Jeremiah stood up from the couch. “Let’s check the back, start closing off rooms as we clear them.”

She nodded, and together they moved down the hall. A quick look in the bathroom and they were able to close the door. Next they searched her bedroom, checking under the bed and behind the furniture. Finally they closed the door and moved on to her office.

Fear was mounting in Cindy. They were running out of places to look. What if he had gotten outside and was lost again? It had been such a triumph to find him, and it would be devastating to lose him again, especially given what had just happened to his owner.

Cindy checked behind the filing cabinet while Jeremiah crawled under her desk.

“Found him,” Jeremiah said at last. “He’s wedged between the computer and the wall.”

Relief flooded through her, and she crossed to him. Jeremiah pulled the puppy out and then handed him up to her. She took Buff from him, and then Jeremiah stood up.

“I’ll tell Geanie we found him,” he said.

Cindy followed him into the living room and then sat on a chair, still holding the puppy. He was shaking and whimpering deep in his throat. Every time she petted him, he jerked.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

Jeremiah returned with Geanie.

“Something really terrified him,” Cindy said.

“Well, it could be because he just saw his owner arrested,” Geanie said, voice cracking.

Cindy glanced up at Geanie and realized that the other woman had been crying.

“He saw him leave, gut I doubt he would have understood the context,” Jeremiah said.

“And he wasn’t shaking like this when we found him wandering the streets, lost and hungry,” Cindy said. “No, I think it’s something else. I just don’t know what it could be.”

“If only he could tell us,” Jeremiah said.

“I think I need to go home,” Geanie said.

“Are you going to be okay?” Cindy asked.

Geanie nodded.

“Will you be okay with the dogs?”

Cindy looked at Buff and Clarice and realized that even if she had a way to get them into Joseph’s home, there was no one to look after them. “I guess I’m going to have to be,” she said.

“Do you need me to drive you?” Jeremiah asked.

“No, I’ve got it. Thanks,” Geanie said. “It was a great dinner,” she said, looking at Cindy.

Cindy nodded.

Geanie left a moment later, and Cindy and Jeremiah were alone with the dogs. Cindy petted Buff, stroking his head and then his back. There was a rough spot on the back of his neck and she glanced down at it. The fur had been shaved in one small spot.

“What is it?” Jeremiah asked.

“There’s a small shaved spot here,” she said, pointing.

“I noticed that Ginger had one as well. Bernadette told me the people she adopted him from said that was where they inserted the needle when they chipped her. They said the fur would grow back in a week or two.”

“That’s right. Joseph said all the dogs that were going to be adopted were chipped.”

“Mystery solved,” he said and then began to cough.

“You don’t look so good.”

“I’m feeling worse.”

“I’m sorry, you probably should have stayed in bed all day. I shouldn’t have forced you to come.”

“No, I was glad to be here. And trust me, you didn’t force me to do anything.”

“Do you need me to drive you home?”

“I can manage.”

“If you want to crash on the couch, you’re welcome to,” she said. “I’ve got flu medication and plenty of food.”

He smiled. “Is this the same woman who was worried that it would create a scandal if she had pizza at my house?”

Cindy shrugged. “I doubt there’s much else we could do today to cause more scandal here than has already happened.”

“You might be right. Just the same, I think I just want to go home and fall asleep in my own bed.”

“Fair enough. Can I send some leftovers home with you? I forgot to ask anyone else.”

“Sure.”

Cindy got up and prepared him a couple of plates of food, which he accepted with a smile before heading on his way.

With the house quiet, Cindy found herself at a complete loss. She fed and walked Clarice and Buff, but Clarice’s anxiety over the absence of her master communicated itself to Cindy until she found herself pacing her apartment alongside the dog.

Joseph couldn’t possibly be involved in whatever had been happening. There was just no way he was a killer. Or was he? Was it actually possible that every guy she’d had dinner with in the past year, possibly in her entire life, was a killer and she just couldn’t see it? After all, she had gone to dinner with a killer over Easter.

She shook her head emphatically. Not every guy. She had shared pizza with Jeremiah and he was certainly no—

She stopped pacing and sunk down onto the couch. Jeremiah
was
a killer. He had shot and killed the serial killer at Easter when the man had been holding her captive with a knife at her
throat. That was different, though, he had acted because he had to. There was nothing cold-blooded, illegal, or immoral about his actions.

She closed her eyes and relived that moment. Jeremiah had moved incredibly fast. She hadn’t even had time to see the gun, but she had heard the crash and felt the impact on the body of the man who held her captive. She would always remember the look in his eyes, though, so cold and hard. Nor would she forget the confusion afterward about who had actually fired and hit the killer.

She shuddered and felt as though she was going to be sick. She had fought so hard for so many years to be safe, to stay away from death and danger, and yet she found herself completely immersed in both. She stood up. She had to do something before she went crazy.

With an apology to Clarice and Buff, she closed off her bedroom, bathroom, and office and left the dogs free to roam the rest of the house. She piled a plate with leftover food, grabbed a napkin and some plastic utensils, and then headed out the door.

She had too many questions that needed answers. Who was behind the murders and why? What, if anything, was Joseph’s involvement? Why had the police not been able to find the homeless man who had jumped in front of her car in protest?

There was one question, though, that she hoped she could get an answer to. What had Harry witnessed when he was attacked?

When she arrived at the hospital, she discovered a policeman standing guard outside Harry’s door. She recognized him as one of the officers who had been there when Harry was removed from the recycling bin. He recognized her as well and gave her a friendly smile.

“That smells like turkey,” the policeman said, waving to her plate.

“It is.”

“Any chance you brought enough for two?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling guilty.

“That’s okay. I’m being relieved in twenty minutes, and my family is waiting dinner for me.”

“That’s nice of them.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve got a great family.”

“You’re very lucky.”

“I know. So is Harry if that’s for him.”

“It is.” She hesitated. “Is it okay?”

“Yeah, you’re on the approved visitor list.”

“Really?” she asked, startled.

“Yeah, the detective said he figured you’d be along soon enough to check on Harry and ask him questions.”

“I guess the detective knows me better than I know myself.”

“Seems as though. Go right in.”

He opened the door for her, and Cindy walked inside. Harry lay still, eyes closed in a badly swollen face.

She gently put the food down on the tray beside the bed and then took a seat on one of the hard, plastic chairs in the room.

“I smell turkey,” Harry said, making her jump slightly.

“Not just turkey, but stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy too.”

“Now, that’s worth waking up for,” he said, slowly opening his eyes and blinking in the brightness.

He turned his head slightly so he could look at her. “I guess I missed Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Not really. The dinner didn’t go very well. But you get the food, which was the best part.”

“Then I’m a lucky man.”

Looking at him lying there so helpless, she couldn’t agree with him. He had to be one of the most unlucky men she knew. She bit her lip and didn’t know how to respond.

The door opened, and a male nurse walked in briskly, saving Cindy from having to say anything. He quickly checked Harry’s vitals.

“Looks like Thanksgiving dinner came to you,” the man said.

“Yup,” Harry agreed.

The nurse helped Harry work the remote control for the bed and then maneuvered the pillows and pulled the tray in front of him so he could eat. “I’ll be back in a while to check on you,” the nurse said before exiting.

Harry began to eat, and Cindy contented herself with sitting quietly as he took his first few bites. “You’re a good cook,” he said at last.

“Thank you. I got lucky.”

He smiled. “It doesn’t pay to be too modest.”

“A lot of people would disagree with you on that.”

He laughed, a sharp, biting sound. “A lot of them haven’t suffered because of it. You know what my favorite Bible verse is?”

“No.”

“First Hesitations 1:3. He who does not toot his own horn, whereby shall it be tooted?”

“That’s not a real verse!” she burst out. “That’s not even a real book in the Bible!”

“I heard it once in youth group years ago, and it always stuck with me. You’d be surprised how many people go scurrying for their Bible trying to look it up when I tell them.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was. You know my IQ is 170?”

She blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. When I was young, I was modest to a fault. You know what happened?”

“No.”

“I lost my job to a guy who took credit for my work, lost my wife to a man who boasted about being in Mensa because she didn’t think I was very smart, and couldn’t get a new job because I was always quick to point out my shortcomings and slow to point out my strengths in job interviews.”

“That’s awful!”

“Yup. But you know what?”

She shook her head.

“I’m better at being homeless than anyone else I know.”

“That seems like the last thing you’d want to be proud of,” she said before she could stop herself.

“I consider it good training. Ask me what else I’m good at.”

“What else are you good at?”

“Taking advantage of every system I can get my hands on, as well as physics, math, and reading people. And I can tell you didn’t just come down here to bring me Thanksgiving dinner.”

She flushed with guilt. “You’re right,” she admitted.

“Of course I am. Excuse me, but I have a killer headache that doesn’t lend itself too well to civilities and formalities. So what is it that you want to ask me?”

“Did you see the person who attacked you?”

“No. Wish I had. I got a good whiff of him, though. He was wearing Old Spice. I can also tell you he was devilish strong.”

“How do you know?”

“He had to be to get me in that dumpster.”

“It was a recycling bin,” she corrected.

“You think that makes it any better?” he asked incredulously.

“No.”

“So I smelled him but didn’t see or hear him.”

“Well, that’s at least something.”

“Yeah. What else you got on your mind?” he asked, taking a bite of potatoes and gravy.

“There was a homeless guy, a protestor, at the charity event Friday night. The police can’t find him, and they need to ask him some questions.”

“And you assumed since I’m also homeless I would know him?”

“I was hoping you’d seen him before, at a shelter, the park, somewhere,” she admitted.

“What does he look like?”

“He’s got dreadlocks.”

“Okay, what else?”

Cindy shrugged. “I really don’t know. He was right in front of me, and yet for some reason that’s all I remember.”

“It’s because you didn’t really look at him.”

“I couldn’t help but look at him; he jumped out right in front of me.”

“You saw him, but you didn’t look at him.”

“I don’t understand,” Cindy said.

“The more uncomfortable a homeless person makes someone, the less they look at him,” Harry said.

Cindy shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”

“Close your eyes.”

She hesitated, but then did as he said.

“Now, tell me what I look like.”

“Ummm… you have long, no, medium, dark-blonde hair… it’s kinda wavy, I think. Your eyes are brown,” she said, straining to remember.

“Okay, open your eyes and look at me.”

“I got your eye color wrong,” she realized. His eyes were a pale green and not the brown she had envisioned.

He nodded. “And you know me. On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being very, how much do I freak you out?”

“One.”

“Tell the truth.”

“Four,” she said, flushing.

“Uh-huh. Now you know that nurse who was in here?”

“Yeah.”

“Describe him.”

She found it easier to do so.

Harry nodded. “You got him right, and you’ve only seen him once. Difference is, you looked at him—really looked at him. People don’t want to look at what makes them uncomfortable. How much did he freak you out?”