Roll Over and Play Dead (19 page)

“But that could take hours,” Caron wailed. Nick and Nora rushed over to comfort her, which resulted in more wails and an impressive amount of blubbering.

Peter gave me the flashlight and was attempting to lure the dogs away from her as I hurried around the house and down the driveway. I could still hear wails as I hesitated at Peter’s car, then decided I could walk more quickly than I could maneuver the car around in the narrow road.

I was breathing heavily as I turned into Deputy Amos’s yard and started toward the truck. The handcuffs lay on the ground; Yellow Hair and Baby Bear were no longer sharing a metal bracelet. Clenching my teeth, I went to the front door and pounded on it.

Bethanna opened it cautiously. “Yeah?”

“Where’s Deputy Amos—and where are the two prisoners we left here less than fifteen minutes ago?”

“I dunno,” she said. “After you and that other fellow left, I went back to watching my show. A little later Rory said he was going down to the barn for a minute.”

“Did he call the sheriff?”

She scratched her head and gave me a bewildered, bovine look. “I didn’t pay any attention. I was watching—”

“Your show,” I interrupted. I brushed past her and went into the kitchen, found a telephone book on the counter, and dialed the number of the sheriff’s department. I tersely related the situation to a bored dispatcher, who wearily promised to hunt up Sheriff Dorfer and tell him what was happening.

Bethanna came into the kitchen and took a beer from the refrigerator. “I heard that last part about the padlock. Rory has some tools in the barn. Maybe he’s got some kind of saw that’ll cut the lock.”

Doubting I could find a compliant locksmith, I thanked her and went out the back door, ducked under the clothesline, and walked down a muddy road to a large, dilapidated barn. Light shone through the cracks and knotholes. I pushed open the door, calling, “Deputy Amos?”

He came out from behind a partition and goggled at me. “Mrs. Malloy, what are you doing here?”

It occurred to me that he should have been less startled to see me, in that we’d seen each other several hundred times in the last week, including twice that day. However, I let it go and told him what Peter and I had discovered in the pit bull pen at NewCo. Ignoring his stuttery spate of questions, I asked if he might have a saw capable of cutting through the lock.

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” He went to a worktable and began to search through the jumble of tools.

“What happened to Yellow Hair and Baby Bear?” I said to his back.

His neck turned red. “It was my fault, really dumb. The big guy said his gut was killing him and doubled up, groaning something awful. The other one started yelling for me to unlock the guy before he barfed all over him. I went over to see if the guy was faking it, and they jumped me and got the key. Next thing I know, I’m lying on the ground with a lump on my head and they’re long gone. The sheriff’ll get ’em, though.”

I studied him as he continued to hunt through the scattered tools. “I suppose so, and Lieutenant Rosen has their names and addresses.” My gaze wandered to the partition, and I moved as quietly as I could to the edge of it to see what Deputy Amos had been doing.

There was a hole in the dirt floor, about eight-foot square and a yard deep. The hole had been there for some time; the earth was packed as tightly as a concrete surface. Surrounding this shallow yet interesting excavation were primitive benches.

“Here’s a hacksaw,” Deputy Amos said from behind me. “It ought to do the trick. If not, I know a welder who lives near the highway. We can get him to melt the darn lock so your daughter and her friend can get out.”

I took the saw. “You know, there was a question I meant to ask Caron, but I forgot.”

“Like how those guys talked them into going into the pen?”

“No, although that’s a good one and I will inquire at a later time. I have a feeling she won’t be in the mood to discuss it in the immediate future. I’ve been meaning to ask her at what time the commandos left Farberville the night Newton Churls was killed.”

He blinked at me. “You called me about nine, didn’t you?”

“No, it was earlier than that. I arrived here at nine, and it took more than twenty minutes to make the drive. I assumed the commandos had come much earlier, but there’s no basis for the assumption. They might have been on their way here when I called you.” I sat down on the nearest bench, and with a grimace, plucked a tick off my ankle and flicked it into the pit. Ah, nature.

“I guess so,” he said uneasily.

“We know it was dark when they got here. According to Helen Maranoni, she and George started down the path, realized the flashlight battery was dead, and he came back to borrow another light. I don’t think Helen would have waited very long in the woods. And Vidalia was still searching those rows of cages when you and I arrived—she couldn’t have been there more than five minutes.”

“I guess I thought the same thing you did,” he said. He shot a quick look at the hole. “Hope the saw works.”

“So you didn’t see their car on the road,” I said slowly. “After I called, you told me you walked down to the gate. They were either already there, or arrived after my call. I tend to think the latter makes more sense.”

He sat down on the opposite end of the bench. “But they had to be there before I went to the gate, or I’d have seen them coming down the road.”

“If you stayed by the gate,” I corrected him.

“I told you what I did. I heard the dogs all excited, but I was afraid to go onto the property ’cause Churls wouldn’t have thought twice about setting the dogs loose if he thought there were trespassers.”

“Trespassers, yes. But he thought he had a visitor, and he told Arnie, one of his bunchers, to wait down behind the back fence.”

Deputy Amos’s throat rippled as he glanced at me. “He told the guy to wait behind the fence so he could turn the dogs loose. It makes real good sense.”

“No,” I said regretfully. “He could have told Arnie to wait in the house. I think he didn’t want his two guests to meet each other.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll have to work on that, but all parties were engaged in felonies. What’s really been bothering me is that Churls hid the animals Arnie brought. Why would he do that, unless he knew someone might be coming that could identify them as stolen pets?” I paused for a minute, allowing him time to absorb my logic, which, as usual, was piercingly sharp. “I knew the group was coming, and I told you—and I didn’t tell Newton Churls. I wouldn’t have, even if I’d had the opportunity. That leaves you, Deputy Amos.”

“Why would I do that, Mrs. Malloy?” he said in a stiff, adolescent voice.

I gestured at the hole. “You’re not going to tell me you fill this with water in the winter and have the neighbors over to ice-skate, are you?” He mutely shook his head. “I don’t know how he did it, but Churls got you involved in pit bull fights. Maybe you knowingly sold him some stolen animals and helped take animals to the sales, or perhaps you bet too much and found yourself in debt. In any case, you and he were partners, so you needed to protect him from accusations that might result in an inquiry.”

He stepped into the pit, although not with the arrogance of a ringmaster in a top hat and a tuxedo. “There wasn’t anything illegal going on here. Some of the boys may have brought their dogs to train them, but we didn’t have any bloodshed or gambling.”

“The forensics lab will run tests,” I said.

“What’s this?” Bethanna said from the edge of the partition. “It’s not deep enough for a swimming pool, and a silly place for a garden. And why are you standing in there, Rory?”

He gave her a helpless look from the middle of the pit. “I told you to stay out of the barn, Bethanna.”

“I just came to tell you all that Sheriff Dorfer’s out in front,” she said irritably. “I would have preferred to catch the last part of my show, when they tell you who the murderer is, but I thought I’d better tell you about the sheriff.”

“This may be more exciting,” I murmured. “Here’s how I think the first and second acts went. Arnie took the animals to NewCo. He was arguing about money when you came to the gate to warn Churls that militant pet owners were on their way. Churls sent Arnie away, heard your story, and put the cages under the house.”

“I told him it was too dangerous to keep them,” Deputy Amos said under his breath.

“What are we talking about?” Bethanna demanded.

“My question exactly,” said Sheriff Dorfer as he appeared from the main part of the barn. He snorted as he saw the pit, but sat down on the bench and pulled a stubby cigar from his pocket. “You go right ahead, Mizz Malloy. It’s fascinating.”

“It’s supposed to be better than television,” Bethanna said to him. She did so without conviction.

I realized I’d been clutching the saw as a potential weapon, and put it down on the ground. “So you and Churls argued,” I said to the deputy in the pit. “Perhaps you followed him around the house, still arguing, and he said he was going to turn the pit bulls loose on several elderly people and two teenage girls. He unlocked the pen. You pushed him in, clicked the padlock, and took the key back to the kitchen.”

“I didn’t think they’d attack him. He was their trainer,” Amos said with a groan. He covered his face with his hands, and his voice was barely audible as he said, “God knows I wouldn’t have done it if I could have seen what would happen.”

I was about to respond when Sheriff Dorfer cleared his throat. “Well, Rory, that sounds pretty damn good, but the thing is, we just got back the autopsy report on the pit bulls. I wondered if someone had given them a drug, but it turns out they had a trace of raw meat in ’em. Tossing a hunk of meat in the pen would rile them. Once those dogs are riled, there’s no way to stop them short of a bullet.”

“I didn’t do that,” Amos said tearfully. He came over to me, and for a moment I was seriously worried he was going to fall on his knees in front of me. “When I left Churls, he was cussing a blue streak and making all kinds of threats. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I owed him over five thousand dollars, and I only bring home twelve hundred and eighty a month. All along he’s been saying not to fret about it, that he’d give me a cut from the fights, but somehow I seemed to owe him more every month.”

I frowned at the sheriff. “That’s a pitiful salary.”

He busied himself with yet another cigar stub. “You think I’d smoke leftovers if the county paid decent salaries? My wife buys her winter coats at garage sales, and both my kids work after school.”

“I’m sure it’s a burden on everyone’s family,” I said, then sent a sympathetic smile at Bethanna. “I suppose you grew tired of watching Churls drive by in that Lincoln every day, didn’t you? You must have guessed what was going on down here and realized a lot of cash changed hands—and most of it ended up in Churls’s cash box.”

Her thickly mascaraed eyelashes fluttered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let’s suppose you heard Rory’s end of the conversation the night I called. He left the house immediately, so you went across the back pasture to see what was happening. To your utter amazement, you saw Rory leaving and Churls locked in the pen with his pit bulls. It’s possible his threats alarmed you. Did you pop in the house to take a hunk of hamburger meat from the refrigerator and shove it into the pen? Then, while Churls was occupied, to put it mildly, you went into the house and broke into the cash box?”

“How would I know there was a cash box?” she said haughtily. “Churls was a filthy, nasty man. I wouldn’t set foot in his bedroom, no matter how much he offered me!”

“Bedroom?” Deputy Amos echoed.

“Or wherever he kept it,” she mumbled, folding her hands in her lap and attempting to look as if she were sitting on a pew.

None of us was fooled.

“Very good, Mizz Malloy. Who shot Daryl Defoe?” the sheriff asked, puffing contentedly as if he had solved one mystery and was merely teasing us before he unraveled the next one. The fat man with the orchids couldn’t have done it better.

“I think,” I said slowly, “he’s been afraid to talk because of his status with the army. Once it’s made clear that he’s been exposed, he’ll admit that he came to the same conclusion I did about Deputy Amos. His mistake was to go to NewCo to look under the porch, and be caught doing it. Deputy Amos shot him and left him in the pen, but then panicked when he saw Jan’s car go by his house and came back to determine if Daryl was able to talk.” I gave the accused a sad look. “You came too quickly. Jan hadn’t been off the telephone for more than a minute when you showed up.”

Sheriff Dorfer’s beady look was hardly sad. “Guess ballistics might want a look at your weapon, Deputy.”

Amos sank down in the middle of the pit and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook, and the noises coming from him bore a disturbing resemblance to the wuffly barks of the mutilated dogs. He might have achieved the age required to join the sheriff’s department, but he was still way too young. Bethanna, on the other hand, looked much older than her years as she took a nail file from her pocket and began to work on her scarlet nails.

Sheriff Dorfer’s men took Deputy Amos and Bethanna to the county jail for further discussion. He remained on his bench and I on mine, both of us gazing at the pit bull arena.

“Mizz Malloy,” he began, then stopped and shook his head.

“I should have called when I learned the girls had been tricked by those goons, but I was with Lieutenant Rosen. Then Deputy Amos said he’d call and we went on to NewCo.”

“And you didn’t trust me.” He fired up a cigar and sent a swirl of blue smoke into the dark recesses of the rafters above us. “Thought I was the one involved in pit bull fights, didn’t you?”

“The idea occurred to me.”

“Thing is,” he continued in a genial rumble, “Deputy Amos was supposed to be investigating Newton Churls real quiet like. There were some rumors that dogfights were taking place in the county. Guess there was a reason why he never came up with anything.”

“I think it has to do with Bethanna’s car and designer jeans.”

He took a last puff on the cigar, then flipped it into the hole. “I should have looked a little harder for those stolen animals you were so worried about. My apologies, Mizz Malloy.”

Mizz Malloy was not in the mood to graciously accept his apology; she was busy remembering where her daughter and Inez were at the moment. “We’ve got to get a locksmith, Sheriff Dorfer. Nick and Nora aren’t vicious, but Caron might be if she stays in that pen much longer.”

“We’re seeing to it right now. They should be along any time. I’m a little bit unclear why they were out at NewCo and how they ended up with the stolen animals.”

“I think Deputy Amos will admit he took the dogs and cat here after he locked Churls in the pen. He knew the only way to stop me from”—I coughed ever so discreetly—“meddling was to return the animals. Churls was going to take them to the Guttler sale, and even warned Yellow Hair and Baby Bear to frighten me if I appeared. They were too dim to realize there was no need to worry about me if the animals weren’t there—or maybe they attacked me for the hell of it.” I thought about the arm around my neck and shivered.

“Didn’t seem to slow you down,” Sheriff Dorfer commented as he felt around in his pocket, sighed, and gloomily looked at the smoldering cigar butt in the hole.

“Of course not. They probably weren’t too happy when Amos told them to leave the animals in the pen so he could make an anonymous call to me. They decided to collect a ransom.”

“Well, they Didn’t.” Caron marched across the floor and shot me a withering look. “They were extremely rude and one of them smelled worse than—than canned dog food and kibble. They drank whiskey all the way out here, made unamusing remarks, and actually laughed when they locked us in that dreadful place. They stopped laughing when they realized the money was in my pocket. Nick and Nora protected us.”

“Where are Nick and Nora now?” I asked.

“They’re in a cage in the backseat of Peter’s car. Patton went with some deputy, and another was still trying to coax that satanic cat into a box.” She crossed her arms. “Are we going to stay in this filthy place all night, Mother? I have homework, you know.”

“Biology homework?”

“Mostly algebra,” Inez said from behind me. “I do, too, and I have a paper due in history.”

Sheriff Dorfer winked at me as he left. I took a minute to compose myself, and said, “I don’t think you need to worry about homework, girls. Unless I misinterpreted Mrs. Horne’s intentions, you’ll both be expelled in the morning.”

“Because of the frogs?” Caron said, although without any of the explosive indignance I expected. “Who cares about a bunch of frozen frogs?”

“Did you steal them?”

Her lower lip crept out and her chin trembled as she said, “What would I do with frozen frogs?”

“I asked Mrs. Horne that same question,” I admitted. “Will you swear on your Mousse ticket that you did not steal the frogs?”

“Oh, Mother,” she said as she went past me and out of the barn. Inez gave me a timid wave as she followed the martyr.

By the next afternoon, the situation seemed under control. Vidalia and Colonel Culworthy had been overcome when their pets were returned; Vidalia had hugged the deputy so tightly that he’d stumbled over a hydrangea, and the colonel had produced a word of gratitude along with a bone-crushing handshake.

I had a long telephone conversation with Jan, who’d sounded tired but encouraged by Daryl’s recovery from the bullet wound. He’d been transferred to the psychiatric wing, where soft-spoken doctors could ease him out of his mental cage in the jungle.

There had been no call from the high school earlier in the day, and Caron and Inez stormed the store at their usual hour, spiritedly arguing the politically correct posture of attending Rhonda Maguire’s slumber party since she was, Caron shrieked, “Such a bitch!”

“But the guys are coming over after the concert,” Inez said somberly. “Even Louis Wilderberry. Rhonda made this big show of stopping him in the middle of the hall after algebra.”

Caron glanced at me, then grabbed Inez’s arm and dragged her behind the self-help rack. “What’d he say?” she whispered loudly enough to be heard from the campus.

I couldn’t hear Inez’s response, naturally. From the intensity of Caron’s sputters, however, it was not difficult to presume the boy under discussion had not made the acceptable reply.

“Enough!” I said. “You’re not going to the concert unless you go to Miss Emily’s and take care of Nick and Nora. Don’t forget the African violets. We’re completely out of topics of conversation.”

Caron stalked into view, with Inez trailing after her. “We’re going; we’re going. We were merely discussing a Certain Conversation at school today.”

“What did Mrs. Horne have to say?” I asked, not willing to explore the delicate topic of Louis Wilderberry’s hypothetical whereabouts after the concert.

Inez blinked. “She said we couldn’t have lab, so we’re supposed to draw the interior of the frog and label it.”

“And there’s no breakthrough in the case of the frozen frogs?” I persisted. “No one has any idea who took them?”

My daughter was not yet ready to assume the mantle of a master criminal. Her freckles were dark splotches on her suddenly pale face, and she ducked her head. “They’ll probably turn up later in the week,” she mumbled. “Come on, Inez. Let’s go feed the dogs and chitchat with the violets. You can tell them all about Rhonda Maguire’s fat ankles.”

They grabbed their books and started for the door.

“Where will the frogs turn up?” I said with all the maternal sternness I could rally, considering the nature of the stolen items.

Caron glanced back at me. “Oh, you know. Somebody’s locker, most likely, when they’re nice and ripe.” She and Inez sailed out the door, resuming their squabble. I was too stunned to pursue them.

To add to my stupor, Arnie came by shortly after that, already equipped with a bottle. “Yo, Senator,” he said as he sat down on my stool and tried to type on the cash register.

“Yo, Arnie,” I said without enthusiasm.

“I got fired.” He took a drink, wiped his mouth on the cuff of his coat, and gave me a calculating look. “Don’t suppose you need an aide?”

“Arnie,” I said with a saccharine smile, “I’ll tell you a big, dark secret if you’ll answer one question.”

“About the capital gains legislation? I was just saying to myself last night in jail, I was saying, Arnie, if—”

“A different topic entirely,” I said quickly. “Did one of the sheriff’s deputies keep you supplied with booze so that you couldn’t answer questions about the night you went to NewCo?”

He finished off the bottle, then gave me an enigmatic look that reminded me of Caron. “You know, Senator, now that I am distanced from the inconvenience of incarceration and able to look back objectively, he did. I just thought to myself that he wanted to keep me from discussing the capital gains reform.”

“So what are you going to do, Arnie?”

“Thought you were going to tell me some secret, Senator?”

“I’m not a senator.”

“Wowsy, Senator, this is a setback of astounding proportion,” he said with (believe it or not) a solemn hiccup. “I had my heart set on an office with a view of the Washington Monument. I must rethink my career options.” He slid off the stool and saluted me with the empty bottle. Buttoning his coat to protect him from the eighty degree wind roaring down the railroad tracks, he staggered toward the door.

“You didn’t take the puppies to NewCo?” I said to his back.

“Check with that deputy, Senator.” Arnie went out the door, but I had a feeling I hadn’t seen the last of this proverbial bad penny.

Peter came by that evening. Once we’d settled into the sofa, I asked him if Yellow Hair and Baby Bear had been apprehended on their way back to Guttler.

“The state police stopped them not too far across the line,” he said, attempting to distract me with a lazy smile and a meaningful look. “Want to cross a state line for immoral purposes?”

“Were they charged?”

“If you’re willing to make numerous court appearances in Guttler, they might be charged with the assault.” Mr. Suggestive arched his eyebrows. “Are you sure you want to talk about greasy rednecks? Let’s talk about that hammock in Tahiti. The dogbane will be in bloom. I shall murmur bawdy bits of doggerel in your ear as the dog days drift by in a swelter of passion. We shall lie doggo in paradise, our discarded books dog-eared, both lost in a catatonic stupor of cathartic—”

“What about kidnapping?”

He gave me a disappointed look. “Their story is that they worked for both Churls and Amos. They really didn’t hear about Churls’s death until yesterday, when Deputy Amos told them to put the dogs in the pen. They claim they were merely being helpful when they called Caron and Inez, told them where the animals were, and gave them a ride to NewCo. No money exchanged hands.”

“They were so inept that they’re going to get away with it? What kind of—” The telephone rang, interrupting what was going to be an eloquent condemnation of the entire legal system.

“Oh, Claire,” Miss Emily gushed, “I am thrilled I reached you. I have such exciting news.”

“You now own a casino?”

“Well, I did make a tidy sum playing blackjack. It’s really such a fun game, and all you have to do is count to twenty-one. No, this concerns Mr. Delmaro. I did tell you about him, didn’t I?” She giggled and continued, saying, “I might not have mentioned that he’s a widower. Sandra was most upset when we disappeared after dinner. We should have told her, but we slipped away to one of those little wedding chapels. It was ever so exciting and romantic, and now I’m Mrs. Arthur Delmaro!”

“Mrs. Arthur Delmaro,” I repeated numbly.

“The group’s having a party for us tonight, with a cake and punch. Tomorrow the bus starts back for Farberville, but Mr. Delmaro and I shall remain behind in the honeymoon suite. He’s already instructed them to chill the champagne. He can be so extravagant,” she confided coyly.

“This is wonderful news,” I said with what conviction I could. “Give Mr. Delmaro my congratulations.”

“Then you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” I murmured. “I’m thrilled for both of you, and I’m sure you’ll have a lovely…honeymoon, Miss Emily.” I took a breath as her words began to sink in like frozen frogs in a lake. “How long will you stay in Las Vegas?”

“Not long. Mr. Delmaro says he knows an incredibly quaint village in Mexico that I must see, and then who knows? As long as I know Nick and Nora are being well cared for, why—we might just do something crazy! They haven’t been any trouble, have they?”

I closed my eyes and willed myself to tell her the truth. I tried to find a way to gently refuse her. I remembered my promise to myself to be more assertive, to give my attention to the shabby remains of my business, to worry less about dogs and more about my daughter’s academic future when Rhonda Maguire opened her locker on Friday. I gritted my teeth as I listened to Peter’s muffled chuckles.

“No trouble at all,” I said.