Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6) (13 page)

"I saw you."

"What do you mean you saw me?" Sweet Sasha Holman’s demeanor was growing very icy. Something pretty hard to achieve in the heat of August.

"I saw you at the Super Stay Motel."

"I don't know what you hoped to accomplish here," she said, turning away from me, "but I am not going to stay here and listen to your lies. Baxter Digby and I are friends. What does it matter anyway? I'm single."

She started to leave and I put my hand on her arm.

"But he's married. I think we both know that."

She tried to pull away from my grasp, but then turned toward me. "In name only," she muttered. For a woman who was madly in love, she didn’t look too happy. Her eyes met mine.

"So, what is it you want from me? Is it money? Because I don't have any. I spent all my money on my divorce. Why do you think I’m working in this barbecue joint? I go home at night and I can’t get the smell out of my clothes."

Benny, who had returned to the kitchen and was now flouring a load of chicken, looked up briefly, his lips thinning. This would probably be Sasha’s last lunch break.

"No. I don't want your money. You've completely misunderstood this. I'm not here to try to get something out of you. I'm here because I need to let you know that Rocky Whitson at the Pecan Bayou Gazette is on to you."

"How did he find out?"

I lowered my gaze as the guilt took over.

"Somebody told him?" Sasha asked.

"Sort of."

"Who? Whoever it is better put their affairs in order, because I’m going to kill them. Who would do such a hateful thing? Was it Connor? He was plenty mad when he found out, but I didn’t think he’d resort to putting it in the paper." She paused and then continued. "Was it Baxter’s wife? Does his wife know?"

I squeaked out my answer. "Not yet. It was me."

Sasha’s jaw dropped. "Why would you do that? What harm was a few little lunch dates doing? Two people finding some joy in the middle of the day? What would possess you to tell the newspaper about it?"

"Listen, I know this won't give you any comfort, but it just happened. I was writing this silly article on Baxter about grilling, and one day I noticed his car at the hotel. There was another car parked next to his. At first, I had no idea it was yours. The next day as I was driving back from getting pie, I saw the two cars side by side again. When I turned in my article to Rocky, it just kind of slipped out."

"Slipped out? Are you going to ruin my life because it just slipped out? If this gets out…well, you don’t really know Baxter. He’s going to be boiling mad. I wouldn’t want to be Rocky Whitson if he goes after him."

"I know. What happened is my fault, and that's kind of why I'm here right now. So, there’s that and one other little item."

"What, now are you going to tell me he has a sexually transmitted disease or something?"

"No. I mean, I don't know."

"Then what?"

"I was wondering what you could tell me about your ex-husband." She slammed her hand down on the table.

"Really? You want to know about him? Are you tracking my love life? Are you some kind of twisted pregnant stalker? You’re sick, you know that?"

I began to think she was right, but twisted or not, I went on.

"Do you think he could be behind all the animal thefts in town?" I asked.

"What the hell?…." She stopped mid-sentence, before launching a new string of insults. I could tell she was picturing her ex and his love for animals.

I asked again. "What do you think?"

She stood up, throwing the towel on the table. "I think you need to get out of here. I’m finished talking to you. March your butt over to that thing you call a newspaper, and tell Rocky Whitson if he publishes any part of this story, I’ll sue. Let alone what Baxter will do to him. Got that?"

"Got it." I grabbed my bag and left Benny’s as quickly as I could. Once in the car I phoned Rocky.

"So she's going to sue me. How?" he said, after I relayed the information.

"You can't blame her. You're ruining her name and her reputation in this town."

"She ruined her reputation all by herself. I wasn't the one who was checking into the hot sheets motel every day with the local superstar real estate agent. I don’t think she was checking out his new listings."

"She kept talking about how violent Baxter could become if he found out about our little spying adventure. I think she’s really kind of scared of the guy."

"True love ain’t what it used to be, I suppose. Why were you there so early? You usually load up on calories a little later in the day."

"I needed her old address to visit her ex-husband. I have a theory on the animal thefts."

"Do tell."

"It's probably nothing, but I smelled paint at Birdie’s Diner last night. Then I saw a smiley face on the wall."

"You've lost me."

"That's Sasha’s ex-husband’s trademark. He's a painter. I just thought I would go talk to him on the pretense of wanting a mural on our nursery wall."

"You never know. He could be a dangerous criminal. Give me his address and I'll meet you there."

I debated giving him the address given how quickly he ran with the last bit of information I gave him.

"I'm grabbing my keys right now," he said.

He was right. If this smiley-face painter was the thief, he might not be right in the head. Having someone else along could be safer. I tried not to think about the fact that I was bringing the privacy-invading Rocky along as my bodyguard. I gave him the address, and we met at the curb just a few minutes later.

The house at one time had been a springtime blue, but now paint was peeling around the shutters and had faded to a dingy gray. For a guy who was a painter he didn't take very good care of his own property. Sasha had said it was a rental, but what landlord would keep a house in this condition? Living in a depressing place like this would make any wife leave. The front door hung slightly askew from the hinges. We tapped on the dirt-smudged glass.

"Yoo hoo? Anybody home?" I said in my most nonthreatening voice.

"Who says ‘yoo hoo’?" Rocky said, eying me sideways.

"Friendly people?"

"Oh right. We're being friendly. Uh…Yoo hoo…" He turned to me. "Sounds stupid."

"What do you want to say? ‘It's the media. Give us a statement?’"

He grinned. "I kind of like that."

I knocked again, causing the cheap tin on the door to rattle. Still no answer.

"Doesn't look like anybody's home." We heard the sound of a door closing, coming from the back of the house.

"Maybe he's coming in from the yard. He could have been rinsing out brushes or something."

We waited for a few minutes more, listening for footsteps nearing the front door. Rocky knocked on the door again. If someone was in the backyard or even somewhere in the house, they had to hear us now.  

"Could it be what we heard was someone going into the backyard instead of inside the house?" I asked.

"Worth a try."

  We stepped off the front porch and went around to the backyard. Rocky looked over the six foot pine privacy fence as a car sped by on the street behind us.

"Hot damn."

"What?"

Ignoring all rules about breaking and entering, Rocky opened the gate.

"Aren’t we committing some sort of a crime here?" I said.

"Not when someone is in possession of stolen items," Rocky said.

Lined up as if on display at a museum were the three stolen animals. The summer sun beat down on the cow from Cattleman’s Call. He looked a little worse for wear with the move.  Lonnie Carello would not be happy to see that Holman made a small hole and a scratch in the side of the cow. The soup-can chicken from Birdie’s Diner had a stray can dangling near a wing. Luckily Charlie Loper's prize horse came through without any damage. If you squinted your eyes a bit, they almost looked real. Rocky pulled his camera out of his bag, and began snapping pictures at a furious pace.

"This is rip-snortin’ wonderful. You and your smiley face theory have led us to the thief, or at least the stolen items. Maybe I can print these in color. I’ll use the headline ‘Crazy Smiley Face Painter Hoards Herds.’ It’s like poetry. If I hurry, I can get it in the online version of the paper within the hour."

He stuffed his camera back in his bag and headed out the fence gate.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"This is big news. You have your car. You’ll be fine."

He left me standing there alone in the backyard. What would possess a person to want to steal these tacky things, I thought. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the Pecan Bayou Police Department. 

"Pecan Bayou Police, " Mrs. Thatcher answered.

"Hi. It’s Betsy. I think I’ve found the missing animals. " Mrs. Thatcher announced my news to anyone within hearing distance. A whoop went up behind her.

"Hold on, dear. I’ll get your father on the phone. He’s in a meeting, but he’ll want me to buzz in for this. Oh, and be sure to get off your feet. That baby needs his rest after all this. "

Within the minute my father came on the line.

"That's great, Betsy. Unfortunately I'm in the middle of a hurricane planning meeting right now. I’ll get over there just a little bit later with the truck to pick up the evidence."

"Okay." It didn’t look like the animals were going anywhere.

"Do you see Mr. Holman anywhere?" my dad asked.

"Rocky and I knocked on the door several times but there was no answer. He’s not here. Maybe he’s out casing the giant weinerschnitzel in front of Helmuts B & B."

"Good. We’ll have to put out an APB on him. Now get out of there and get home." He was right. I was starting to feel very unsafe. I couldn’t be sure, but the soup-can chicken seemed to be glaring at me. I backed out of the yard, closing the gate securely behind me.

When I made it back home, the excitement of talking to Sasha and then finding the stolen animals started to take its toll on me. Back in my non-pregnant days I probably would have fired up the computer and cranked out a column. Not today. I had my feet up on the couch when Leo called.

"Hi Bets. We just took a break so I'm calling to check in on you. Are you getting some rest today?"

"Yeah, I've rested a bit." That was sort of true.

"Any word from the boys today?" Leo asked.

"No, not today," I replied.  Then I couldn't help myself. "I think we found the thief," I blurted out.

"We? Who is 'we'? Betsy, please tell me you haven't been out chasing down leads on this silly animal theft.  My work schedule is stressful enough with this hurricane and knowing I can't be at home with you.  I need to know that you're home safe and sound, not out putting yourself and our baby at risk."

"But Leo…"

"No. What you are doing is dangerous, and you have to think of the baby." Now he was being silly. Dr. Randall had told me I was having a very healthy pregnancy. Leo was acting like I had been confined to bed rest until the baby came. I loved that he was very protective of me, but sometimes it was just too much.

"Look, Leo. You know I’ve been driving to Benny’s every day to get my piece of pie. This all just sort of happened along the way."

"Along the way? You’re a drive-by detective now?"

"Yes. It’s amazing, if you ask me."

"I didn’t ask, and I can also tell when you’re stretching the facts, Bets."

"Okay," I admitted. "I’ve probably done a little more than what I’ve been telling you, but Leo, I’m so bored here at home waiting for the baby and not having the boys around. You can understand that, can’t you?"

He sighed. "I know you’d rather be doing more, but it’s just for a little while longer. So how on earth did you catch the animal thief?"

"I figured it out right after we staked out Birdie’s Diner…" 

"What? When did you do that?"

"Uh … did I forget to mention that part? It’s not important."

"Betsy!"

"It’s a long story, but I figured out that the thief was a local wannabe painter and we found all three of the stolen items in his backyard."

"You and Aunt Maggie?"

"No. Rocky and I. Maggie and Danny were with me on the stakeout, which really wasn’t so good because we were asleep in the car when the thief stole the soup-can chicken. It should be in the paper tomorrow."

"Do the police know?"

"Dad is in a meeting, but as soon as it’s over, he's going to go pick up the animals."

"What about the painter? When is he going to arrest him?"

"As soon as they find him. He wasn’t home when we found the statues." I yawned. 

"You sound tired.  How are you feeling?"