The Case of the Red-Handed Rhesus (A Rue and Lakeland Mystery) (27 page)

“She’s the same woman,” said Drew, “as the one in the picture Hugh supposedly sent his wife. Natasha’s mother.” This image was different, a simple head shot, but the woman’s face was unmistakable.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Natasha joined us and peered at the slowly rotating heart.

“There goes
my
theory.” Drew pointed the stick for Natasha to take the necklace.

She stepped back and held up her hands. “No, you don’t get it. Granddad gave it to me at her funeral, and Terry took it away three hours later for himself. It’s mine, but I never got to own it. I never got most of my stuff back from him before he died.”

“Who would have it?” Trudy looked to Natasha.

Tash considered the question for some time. “Terry’s brother, Charles Dalton, is the only one I can think of who would have had an interest,” she finally said. “All the guys . . . um . . . shared the girls. Mom was one of their favorites. Noel, he was furious when Terry died. What if he blames me? What if he’s coming after me?” She grabbed my arm. “Don’t make me go to school! I’m not safe there.”

My answer was automatic. It came from a place beyond thought, where protection of one’s children superseded all other concerns. “Honey, nobody’s going to school today.” I thought she might have the right of things.

William trundled out of the barn holding Lance’s hand, the monkey once more perched on his shoulder. They went to a rhesus enclosure, and Lance removed the new padlock, one of the ones we had purchased on our way back from the police department. Rick would be coming out later to make formal repairs.

Chuck was absolutely not responsible for this most recent exodus of monkeys. If he had opened the cages, he wouldn’t have done it neatly with bolt cutters. Not that he couldn’t have learned to use the tool. He was smart. But those slice lines were human.

They joined us. “William is school timed,” said the little boy.

“Say, ‘It is time for me to go to school,’ ” Lance corrected.

“It is time for you to go to school,” William said agreeably. Lance pressed a hand to his forehead.

I had told Natasha nobody was going in. On the other hand, because of his wandering nature, William and one other child shared an aide. His IEP had more stipulations than did Sara’s. The other child needed academic help. William needed watching and someone who could understand him. His whereabouts were probably better monitored at school than they would be with us. And we had already confused his schedule. Messing with it further was a dangerous invitation to upsetting his emotional apple cart.

“Also,” William added, “it is William’s turn to ride in the convertible.”

When did we start taking turns with that?
“Later, Bud. All we’ve got here is the minivan,” I said. “I’ll pick you up in the convertible, okay?”

He didn’t answer me, but he turned and chugged away toward the barn. I followed him, doing the mental gymnastics required to keep my job interview from my husband in the morning, now Sara was home at a time she would normally not have needed care, and Trudy had an obvious job to do here. It wasn’t going to happen. Any way I twisted it, the math didn’t work out. I needed to find a few minutes alone with Lance to tell him the truth, and sooner, rather than later.

ATTN: ADVICE

Dear Nora:

I bet these kids have never had attention lavished on them. The best and most precious gift you can give them, and your daughter, is your time. Do special things nobody else can. In other words, be a normal grandmother. That’s what you should do.

A Grandma Who Knows

“Honey, I’ve been meaning to tell you . . . No, too offhanded.” I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. She didn’t seem to know how to start this discussion any better than I did. But with the rhesus outbreak contained and the police mum about nearly everything, I didn’t have any excuses for keeping silent. “Lance, I want you to know . . . No, doesn’t leave room for conversation.” My reflection and I glared at each other. “Lance, we need to talk.”

“Okay, sure, what about?”

“Lance! Where did you come from?”

“I thought you said my name.”

“I did, but I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . . I was
working up
to actually saying your name to
you.
”

“Ah. The mirror pep talk.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to go away so you can keep working up?”

“No. Yes. No. Let’s get out of the bathroom.”

“The bathroom’s a great place to talk.”

“No, it isn’t.” Lance’s bathroom conversations typically turned into bathroom floor conversations. Our thick rugs were testament to our admission we’d gotten too middle-aged to enjoy those floors without some kind of padding.

I led him back to our room and closed the door. Natasha was entertaining the twins downstairs, and she had promised to feed them dessert from the deep freeze down there, which contained a wide array of unhealthy treats. She had never been in favor of my secrecy and was more than happy to play the babysitter tonight. Trudy was due to arrive in a few minutes for backup, vehemently insisting there wasn’t something more important needing her attention.

I perched on one corner of the bed, and Lance scooted a rocking chair over so he could prop his legs beside me. We stared at each other without speaking, and I knew he wasn’t going to help me any more than my reflection had. I took a sidetrack. “Drew told me Deputy Greene and his partner had mild hypothermia and carbon dioxide poisoning, but they’ll be okay in the long run. They were dressed pretty warmly thanks to the season.”

“Great. Did you seriously need to work up to that?”

“No, but it was better than any of the introductions I was thinking about. It sets a positive atmosphere, and invites you to be an active participant in the conversation.”

“You sound like Natasha’s therapist.”

“Hey, it was worth a try.”

“What are you so nervous about telling me, Noel? Did you catch pregnant?”

“What? No! I applied for Art’s job.” Lance had begun to laugh at his own joke but stopped short when I finally spat out the truth. “I have an interview tomorrow morning.” He stared at me open-mouthed for a few moments, and I launched into my line of justifications. “I know we talked about this!We agreed we didn’t want to be tied down to the university, but that was before we cut out my sanctuary salary and moved into this house. And now, with the twins, I doubt we’ll ever make it to Ecuador. I was too afraid of having whoever got the job wind up over us and changing Art’s vision. I didn’t . . . why are you laughing at me, Lance?”

He swung his feet down off the bed. “Honey, I thought you were mad because you’d looked at our savings account.”

“What?”

“I spent the Ecuador money on the materials for the new rhesus enclosure.” Now I was the one staring at him. “The bidding kept going up, and I knew how badly we needed it. And I didn’t know when we’d make it on our honeymoon. I figured we were out the plane money either way. The fee to move the tickets to next summer wasn’t so bad, and the sanctuary down there was so accommodating . . . I figured we could save up by then. But it was . . . before the twins. Honey, I’d never have done it now.”

“I would still do it. Not the money. But I’d apply for Art’s job. And I am. I have. I’ve got . . .”

“. . . an interview tomorrow. You already told me. Honestly? I’m glad. I feel guilty you have to do it. We’re field people. Art was supposed to be our university anchor. And if you’ve looked in the checking account . . .” he shrugged.

“That was what I figured had happened to savings. I would have asked about it, but I’ve been watching how close we’ve been walking the line, and I assumed you’d moved the money over to cover all these damned Christmas expenses and these kids having December birthdays.”

“No,” he said. “We’re managing those. Barely. But I’ve had to use the credit card too much.”

“Me, too. If Stan hadn’t funded the cars, we’d have been stretched to get a sedan
or
a minivan.”

“I’m scared without the cushion.” He took his feet off the bed and rocked forward. “I know we have the money market account your great-aunt left you, but it would only carry us six months or so.”

“Yeah. And the state won’t continue the twins’ stipend once the adoption’s final. If I can’t get Art’s job, I may have to apply in the research department.” I shuddered. Field research was one thing. Stale lab work didn’t appeal.

“Honey, if you can’t get Art’s job, we may both have to go work for Groceries to Go.”

“I hear they have great benefits.”

“What do you think?” Lance stood and struck a pose. “Would I look sexier in a cashier’s apron or manager’s tie?”

“Absolutely the apron. It would cover up the pudding stains much more evenly than a tie.”

He sat beside me on the bed. “We have
got
to get William to quit eating pudding for breakfast.”

“You want to scrape bran cereal off the ceiling?”

“Hey,” he said, suddenly serious. “Look at me. We’re going to be okay.”

I turned in his direction and let him pull me into an awkward embrace. “I’ve missed you.”

“How much?” He started untucking my shirt and kicked the rocker back to where it belonged.

“Is the door locked?” We had quickly learned boundaries had no meaning for our twins.

“Mm-hmm.” He nuzzled my neck, and I smelled the cologne of cleanliness that followed a messy day at the barn.

“Good, then let me show you.”

Our blaring alarm woke us at three a.m.
“Carbon monoxide,”
an artificially calm voice announced.
“Carbon monoxide.”
The burglar alarm didn’t talk. Its warning simply bleated.

“Christ, get the kids.” I stumbled into pants and fumbled my shirt over my head, then staggered out, staying low to the ground.
What the hell’s wrong with the furnace?

William’s panicked screaming,
“Eeeeee,”
propelled me down the hall.

“Tasha, you okay?” Lance called, catching up.

“Right behind you.”

“Stay low,” I told her.

“This isn’t a fire, Noel. Holding your breath is more helpful.”

I scooped up Sara, and Lance grabbed William. It was hard to run hunkered over, but it seemed logical in my half-asleep state that the carbon monoxide would be up high, since our detectors are near the ceiling, never mind our vents are in the floor. The burglar alarm had also kicked on, but its noise hadn’t fully registered.

Only Natasha took the time to grab shoes at the front door, but she threw every pair out onto the frozen lawn as she pelted outside. Ignoring my own discomfort, I immediately got to work on Sara’s feet. Footsteps thundered behind us, and I suddenly remembered our federal guest. “Trudy!”

“Go!” she shouted. The minivan keys flew over Natasha’s head to land at Lance’s feet. “All of you get in my car. Go! Darnell, make them leave.” She darted back inside.

“How did you get here?” I asked Darnell, even though I had just seen him jump out of Trudy’s car.

Trudy reappeared and pelted around the side of the house. “You’re parked at the curb, aren’t you? Get out of here!” she called over her shoulder.

“What?” I had pulled on my own tennies, but I couldn’t follow her instructions. William was a screaming ball, huddled in Lance’s arms.

“What are you all standing there for? Get in.
Leave.
”
Darnell was on stakeout! He was watching the house from Trudy’s sedan. But why?
Without putting William down, Lance took off for the van, parked at the curb, but I stayed put.

“Go where? What’s going on, Darnell? Do you know where the leak is?” I demanded.

He came close and spoke low. “There’s not a leak. Somebody busted out an upper pane in your kitchen window and pushed a hose through up by the detector. Somebody
wants you outside.
Come on. Let’s get in your van and get your children out of here.”

Natasha didn’t need urging. She grabbed Sara from around my neck and dashed to the van. “Noel, come on.” Her voice verged on hysterical.

“But where do we go? What about Trudy?”

“Trudy can . . .” Darnell began.

At that moment, Trudy ran back into view and jumped in her own car, barely pausing to grab the keys her partner extended to her.

“They took off in a van,” she snapped. “Why are you
still here
?”

Lance deposited William in my arms in place of his sister and urged me toward the road. “In,” he said.

“But . . .”

He lifted me in through the side door and bopped the autoclose button. “Going,” he said as Darnell swung in the passenger door beside him.

As usual, I had frozen up when I didn’t fully comprehend the situation, while Lance took charge. I needed a burglar action plan for the next time this happened.
Wait!
There wouldn’t
be
a next time. But I needed an action plan. Just in case.

We drove after Trudy, though at a much more sedate pace, as the first wails of police sirens caught my ear.

I finally had a rational thought. “Can we go to my mother’s?”

“Probably safe enough,” Lance agreed. After a few moments, Darnell acquiesced as well.

The cruisers passed us going the other direction. In my arms, William moaned. “Circle dot cars are bad; circle dot cars are bad.” I couldn’t possibly put him down to work on a seatbelt. Tasha buckled Sara in beside her.
Did
police drive circle dot cars? Their lights were circles projecting spinning dots of light.

“Drive slowly,” I told my husband. I rode unbuckled, cradling our son.

By dawn, we were on our third pot of Mama’s fancy coffee, the kind Lance and I used to use. Nobody had slept. There was no pudding for William to massacre, but Daddy, with a great deal of help from Natasha, had persuaded him to try a waffle. Pancakes had produced a near meltdown, their relationship to circle dots being entirely too close. William hated round things. He couldn’t look at the wheels when we put him in the car, and he never looked out the window when we drove. He didn’t even want pizza if he saw the whole pie.

However, my parents’ waffle-maker produces a square product, and William loves squares almost as much as he hates circles. When Tasha demonstrated her technique of applying perfect butter squares and drizzling syrup everywhere, Will was sold. And he was so busy eating he forgot to fling his leftovers up until the end.