Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6) (9 page)

"Do these people on the other side of the world not know how to build things, or do they just not know how to explain things?"

He sat up abruptly, nearly hitting his head.

"Let me see that damn diagram again."

I handed my father the folded set of instructions which he rattled open. He adjusted his glasses down to the end of his nose.

"Hmmm… just what I thought."

"What's that?"

"These directions are written for idiots by idiots."

"Well then I guess we qualify."

"I'm just going to try to visualize this," he said, putting down the instructions.

"My daddy put together furniture all the time, and he didn’t need directions in four different languages to do it. Back in those days if you wanted a changing table you went and bought some wood—or even better, you started from scratch and chopped down a tree."

"That must've been before fiberboard trees were planted."

"Damn straight." He tried turning the instructions upside down to see if that made more sense.

"I think I figured it out, Betsy."

It was great to know that the Pecan Bayou’s master detective had solved the mystery of assembling a mail order changing table. He angled the changing table slightly and stuck some cardboard under it to steady it.

"Just one more problem."

"And that is?"

"We're missing a piece."

"No! Really? This can't be happening."

"This is what happens when you order things off the Internet."

"Is there anything we can do to replace it?" I asked.

"Sure. Call the manufacturer and have them send you another changing table."

"Sure and by the time they ship it, the baby will be here." I let out a frustrated sigh.

"Well then you'll just have to change him or her on the bed until you get this put together. You know you could always drive into the city and buy a changing table. You don't have to order everything off the computer."

"You're probably right. But I really liked the color of this one. If Leo doesn’t want me driving to camp to pick up the boys, going to Houston is out of the question."

"Right. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. You don't need to be making any car trips in your condition. Maybe I could do it."

"Even if you wanted to make a trip for me, you really don't have time either between hurricane prep and the robberies we’re having."

"You mean the midnight rustler?"

"Is that what you're calling him?"

"Not yet, but I’m sure Rocky will come up with a name for the guy. This is the most bizarre thing that ever happened around these parts."

"Do you have any idea who might be behind it?" I asked.

"You know, FBI profilers just don't have much on people who steal giant replicas of animals. Go figure."
"Seems a shame. So do you think it’s somebody here in town or could it be the proverbial drifter?"

"Now there's an idea," my dad said. "The guy steals a cow and then jumps a freight train? Not likely."

"There is one positive side to all of this. If we do get a hurricane, that’s two creatures that won’t be blowing around in the wind causing damage." 

In a hurricane force wind a trash can lid can decapitate someone. The damage a flying horse could do to a person would be devastating.

"True."

From downstairs I heard the front door open and close.

"Betsy? I’m home. Any babies yet?" I heard Leo’s keys drop into the bowl next to the door.

"Not yet," I yelled.

"But she does have a grumpy old man trying to put together a changing table," my dad chimed in. "Maybe you can figure it out."

Leo bounded up the stairs. After the long day he had put in, his energy was amazing.
"Looks like it’s mostly together," Leo said, observing our efforts.

"Not quite," My father said as he slapped the crumpled instruction sheet into Leo's hands.

"Figure that out, college boy."

Leo examined the directions, and then walked over to the crooked piece of furniture we were calling a changing table. He started hemming and hawing enough to make Bob Vila proud. He walked completely around the changing table, running his hand along the top rail.

"Looks like there’s a piece missing."

"What was your first clue, Sherlock?" My father cracked.

Leo then picked up the empty box and turned it upside down. The missing leg fell onto the carpet.

"Damn. Didn’t think to check the box," my father said.

"Not a problem." Leo grinned. "I'm here to serve."

"So what's this I hear about my son-in-law and soon to be the father of my grandchild flying off into a hurricane and leaving my darling daughter back here alone?"

The sheepish look on Leo's face said it all. "I know it looks bad on the surface, but it really was the opportunity of a lifetime. I went up with the 53rd Air Force squadron. You should know it was perfectly safe and I was never in danger. We gauged the wind speed and how quickly the hurricane will be coming to shore."

"Shoot, son. I think I would have had a hard time passing up a chance to fly with the Air Force."

Leo nodded as they shared a testosterone fueled moment. I scowled at my father. Nothing like encouraging Leo to risk his life.

"I’m just glad I was able to do it, and Betsy didn’t go into labor."

"That was cutting it pretty close. Betsy has been in labor by herself once before. I sure would hate to see that happen again."

  I could see Leo was feeling guilty, especially after my mentioning that the father of my last child hadn’t been there for me either.

"Don’t worry about it, Leo," I assured him. "You managed to get there and back in one day and everything was fine here."

"Except the cow being stolen," Leo said, looking to my father with a grin.

My father shook his head in annoyance. "Oh, yes. The crime wave continues. I’m sure when you moved to this town you never thought you’d be in a bed of petty theft."

"Really. I think I was safer in Dallas."

"I’m just glad you’re back and now we can concentrate on having the baby," I said. "No more wild trips, right?"

Leo’s lips thinned a bit. "Uh…"

"No!" I cut him off.

"No," he repeated.

"Listen to me son," my dad said, "whatever happens with the hurricane, just know when it comes to Betsy here, I’ll step in whenever I can."

"I know Judd, and I’m really thankful for that," Leo said. My dad, looking a little overwhelmed by Leo’s honest admission of gratefulness, cleared his throat.

"And how is my grandbaby doing?"

"Flying around in his own hurricane down there," I answered, feeling the baby shift.

"Oh, so it is a boy. I knew it! I just knew it."

"Don’t get so excited.  Just because I used the word ‘him’ it doesn't necessarily mean it's a boy."

"So it's a girl?"

"Didn’t say that either. You’ll find out when you find out."

"I see."

Leo patted my dad on the back. "That's okay Judd. We're all anxious to meet this new little Fitzpatrick."

"That's Kelsey-Fitzpatrick," my dad said as he put on his hat. "If the kid has all those names to write on his paper, you’d better name him Joe. At this rate he’ll never get out of the second grade."

The next morning I sat at the kitchen table with Aunt Maggie, drinking coffee and pre-addressing birth announcements. Once the baby came, I would fill in the details, but we could get a head start on the job now. Danny was in the den watching cartoons.

Maggie pulled the latest edition of the Gazette off the counter. "Looks like nothing was stolen overnight. Guess our burglar must be slowing down."

"To be honest there's not much left in town for him to steal."

"It’s just downright weird. You know if I felt desperate enough to steal something, it would be something that would help me or my family."

"Which makes you wonder about the mental state of the thief. Have you noticed anyone crazy walking around?"

"How long have you got?"

"Point made. Hey Maggie, can I ask you something?"

Aunt Maggie, who had been putting stamps on envelopes, stopped and looked up.

"Sure, baby, anything. What do you need to know?"

"Have you heard anything about Baxter Digby?"

"You mean like he cheated someone on a house deal or something?" She clucked and shook her head. "Not surprising."

"No. Nothing like that. What do you know about his marriage?" Aunt Maggie's eyebrows shot up. She set the birth announcements aside.

"What are you trying to say?"

I was doing a lousy job of keeping a secret. Ruby knew and of course, Rocky knew. I foolishly thought I could get it by Rocky by asking a simple question. Giving Rocky a clue about a possible scandal was like advertising a shoe sale at a depression convention.  

Maggie sat back and crossed her arms. "Spill it. What do you know?"

"I was interviewing him for this crazy article Rocky has me writing, and I found out something."

Maggie stared at me for moment, her eyes boring into mine, making me feel like she had caught me doing something bad. I felt like I was eight years old again. If Baxter Digby was going to have any privacy, I needed to shut up. "It's nothing."

"So, that's your story and you're sticking to it."

"Yes."

"As far as Baxter Digby goes, I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. He's a handsome fellow, and I think all that hair is really his, but there's just something about the guy. Did you know he forbade his wife to work outside the home? He said she’s happier not working."

"Maybe she is."

"And good for her if it’s true, but Ruby said he was bragging about it one day at a chamber of commerce meeting. Well maybe not bragging, as much as implying his family life is being better than households with two working parents."

"That's pretty archaic. I thought women being forced to stay home went out with the advent of women's lib."

"You never know about a man, and Digby strikes me as being pretty controlling. I heard he has quite the jealous streak."

"It doesn't exactly jive with what I'm suspecting. I think he might be cheating on his wife."

"Boy howdy. Now that's some hot gossip for sure."

"Yeah, but if he’s so gung-ho about having a traditional family, why would he be sleeping around on his wife?"

"Because he calls the shots, baby girl. There’s a reason why he's such a successful real estate agent. By controlling every variable he makes sure things go his way. I'll tell you one thing. Whoever he might be sleeping with probably has no idea what type of man he is. If he makes his wife stay home and not work, what does he demand of his mistress?"

"I’m being silly," I said. "I just saw his car parked outside a motel for two days in a row around lunchtime."

"Uh huh. How do you know it was his car?"

"I saw his bumper sticker on the back. ‘You can bet on change with Baxter Digby.'"

"You'd think he would cover it up." Maggie smiled.

"I guess in his mind, any opportunity to promote himself is a good."

"Speaking of cars, I noticed Leo's car isn’t in the driveway. He must've gone in early."

"Very early. He’s catching up after taking time out yesterday to go flying into the hurricane."

"I heard. Doesn't he know you're about to have a baby?"

"He does, and I’m just glad he’s back on the ground. No more death-defying weather measurements."

"Let’s hope," Maggie said. "Why doesn't he just take up walking on top of moving trains, or maybe when the circus comes in town, he can put his head in the lion's mouth."

"I know. Still though, I just had to let him go. I can't go stomping on his dream."

"You have more patience than I do."

The baby shifted. I moved slightly to accommodate his new position.

"Is the baby moving?" Maggie asked.

"Yes. He's quite active these days." Aunt Maggie reached over and rested her hand on my belly. After a few seconds the baby moved again.

"Oh. I felt it." Aunt Maggie's eyes glistened. "This is wonderful. I really felt it. I just can't wait to see this baby. Are you all packed and ready?"

"Yes, mostly. I just have to put a phone charger in my bag."

"Well you'd better get it packed, because this little fella is itching to come out."

"You know, I'm getting that feeling too."

"Have you started dilating?" This intimate information was something mothers and mothers-to-be always exchanged at this point. It wasn't exactly a question to ask in mixed company, but still it was an important foretelling of the baby's arrival.