Worked to Death (Working Stiff Mysteries Book 2) (14 page)

I turned to see a fat, long-haired cat gliding up the hallway and into the kitchen. It had a pink bow tied around its neck with a tiny little bell on it. But, obviously, too much of its long hair had clogged up the bell 'cause I didn't hear it tinkling.

"You named your cat Pussywillow?" I couldn't quash the words. They just sprang out.

"Oh, she speaks. I wondered how long it would take you to give up your silence." Allyson leered at me as she bent down and picked up the large ball of fur and nestled it between her neck and her bosom.

"Isn't my baby beautiful? Boo boo boo boo beautiful?" The cat purred. "You chubby wubber lovey dovey." She kissed the cat's nose and nuzzled its neck.

I scrunched my nose at the sight before me. "Yes. She's very nice." It wasn't the cat's fault that it had a loony for an owner.

"It's not a she, dummy. Pussywillow is a boy."

I glared at her. "You named a boy that—and the pink bow?" Now I couldn't hide my emotions. That was just wrong. I might have to catnap this creature.

"He's very masculine. You should see how much he eats. And everyone knows that real men wear pink."

I tilted my head to one side and gave her an eye roll. The eye movement sent a stab of pain through my head as my earlier migraine reared its ugly head again.

"Yeah, well. I prefer my men in black."

And just then the door opened, and in walked Colin Brooks. Dressed all in black. Including a now familiar pair of black leather gloves.

"That's finer than frog hair." —Things We Say in the South

"Are you kidding me right now?" I glared at Colin, and my voice came out in a violin strings type screech.

Pussywillow was having none of our drama, and he tore out of Allyson's arms and back down the hall from whence he had arrived moments earlier.

Colin responded with a warm smile.

I wasn't going to let that treacherous smile trick me out of the hissy fit I was about to throw.

I jumped up. "That was
you
? Out at Fort Creek? Standing behind me—with the water?" I'd recognized the gloves immediately, and my face was burning.

"Hey, Mandy." His grey eyes bore into mine, and despite my best efforts, his presence calmed me.

"You're working with Allyson?" I motioned to her, and I could see her lighting up with the knowledge of her superiority over me in this matter. The bottom line was that she knew something I didn't know.

"Yes," his voice was solid, and he never took his eyes off me.

Allyson used the awkward moment to sidle up to his side and wrap her arm around his shoulders. "Colin and I have been on a special assignment together."

He slid out from under her embrace and took a step toward me. I took a step backward.

I didn't know what these two had going on. I wasn't sure I wanted to know. She'd come between Ty and me on several occasions, but Colin had been mine. Well, even if it was only in my mind—he'd been
my
secret agent. He was way too good for her. It just made my skin crawl to think of them together—in any capacity.

He looked down at his feet for a moment. He was always a man of few words, but I thought that this time he was really struggling.

"Let me take you home. You must be starving."

I pursed my lips at him. That was a good move on his part. Betting on the fact that I was starving and trying to defuse the situation with the mention of food. He knew me.

"But aren't we gonna tell her about how you came to me and asked me for help? And how we've been working
undercover
together?" Hussy Harlow stressed the word undercover to be sure that I caught the implication.

I had.

"No. I'm trying to keep her out of this. Let's just move on to the next step. I nearly have everything I need." He gave Allyson a quick look, and she nodded. Then she did that finger across her lips, making a locking motion and throwing away the key signal.

I wanted to throw up.
Third grade much?

"I'm not going anywhere until I hear all of this. How do I even trust you now, Colin? You show up out of nowhere this morning and then disappear again. And then you were there? At the reservation? Holding me hostage? You did nothing to help me escape?" My voice broke a little on the last question.

I really was tired now. My bones were hurting.

"I did do something," he said, his voice softer now.

"He sent me." Allyson poked her chest out to full volume, and she smiled confidently.

"Yes, I noticed. You wouldn't have been my choice. But I thank you, Allyson." I sighed loudly.

"Brown doesn't know who I work for, Mandy. I'm trying to bring down something big here. I got you out, didn't I?"

He had a point. But I still wasn't letting him off the hook. "Why her? Of all the people in the world."

"She's part of my assignment," he said and then gave me an imploring look.

I ran my tongue over my upper teeth and shrugged. "Whatever. I don't even care anymore. Would one of you please give me a ride home? Or I'm calling Coosada Concierge Service."

I was tired of sitting there and not getting questions answered. It sounded like his investigation didn't include me, and I was fine to keep it that way.

"I'll take you." He backed toward the door and pushed it open, waiting for me to follow.

"Wait… Colin," Allyson said in a breathy voice. "Don't you need to debrief me?"

I glared at her. She had made the word
debrief
sound totally dirty.

"We'll talk tomorrow," he told her.

I stepped out the door and down the stairs to the yard below.

"But what if he figures out that I helped her escape? He might send someone for me." She was totally putting on her damsel-in-distress voice now.

"I have someone watching out for you, Allyson. We'll speak tomorrow." The door shut behind him, and I followed him to his motorcycle parked just inside the cover of the woods nearby.

The door swung open, and she leaned out, cleavage glistening in the new risen moonlight.

"Really? Someone is out here watching me?" She sounded thrilled at the prospect.

"Good night, Allyson." He sat on the bike and handed me the helmet from the back. I scrunched it down over my aching head.

She closed the door, and then I saw the blinds on the bay window opening.

"Geez. She's probably going to give your guy a real peep show now. You know, she has no shame?" I swung my leg over his bike and snuggled close to him.

"I'm sure he can handle himself. It's nothing he hasn't seen before as I understand it."

He cranked the engine as his words reached my ears.

"Ty? Is it Ty who's watching out for her?" He didn't respond, and I couldn't see his face, but I had the strangest feeling that he was smiling.

*  *  *

If Ty already knew about this, Colin had brought him in after all. This operation was getting bigger and more dangerous by the second.

I tried to piece it all together but my brain was scrambled. When one thought zigged another zagged, and my headache raged beneath it all.

A few minutes later, we were back at my house. It had never looked so beautiful to me. I raced inside and grabbed the phone. I'd lost my purse and my cell phone somewhere along the way. I hoped they were still inside Stella, and I hoped that my car was still okay. She meant a lot to me—as in, it was the only thing I still had that was my Dad's.

I looked on the master emergency list that was tacked on the kitchen bulletin board and dialed the number for the Owens' residence.

Andy Owens answered, "Hello."

"Captain Owens, this is Mandy Murrin."

"Not Captain anymore, dear," he said, his voice sounding calm and jovial.

"Sorry. Right. Uh, how are things there?"

"Things are fine. Did you need to speak with Denise? She and Paget are getting her things together. She's about to bring her over to Ms. Lanier's house for dinner. Do you need to chat with her?"

Whew.

Relief flooded through me. Allyson had been right. They were fine. Hank O'Hannigan had lied to me in order to force me into going with him.

"No. I'll just see them there. Thanks so much."

"Okay then." He sounded a little confused, but not overly concerned. He'd been a witness to my hectic life back at the end of the summer. He'd realized then that it was better not to ask too many questions where I was concerned.

We ended the call. Colin stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the den. Leaning back, with his arms crossed.

I walked right past him and down the hall. I entered the bathroom and turned on the shower.

"Mandy, we need to talk," he said, following me into the bathroom.

I grabbed a bottle of Motrin and shook a couple into my palm. Slipping them into my mouth and cupping my hand under the water to get enough water to swallow them.

"I'm taking a shower. This has been a craptastic day. And that's putting it mildly. Wait, oh yeah, that's right. You were witness to most of it."

The room had started to fog up. I reached down and unbuttoned my jeans. "You'll need to get out now," I said, unzipping them and starting to shimmy them down my hips.

He maintained eye contact me with me, but I had the feeling that it was difficult for him.

"Are you staying in here?" I asked as I pulled at the bottom hem of my tank top and began to lift it over my head—temporarily blocking my view.

When I could see again, he was gone. I stepped forward and closed the door, taking a deep breath and trying to release some of my anger toward him as I exhaled.

I finished undressing and stepped underneath the wide-patterned spray. Turning the water as hot as it would go, I tried to melt away the day. I touched my fingertips to my sore neck and then to my wrists that were raw from the binding tape.

Colin and I had only met back in August. I'd helped him sort out some things from his past, and he'd helped me adjust to life back in Millbrook.

He'd disappeared—which I knew was because of his job. But my feelings for him hadn't disappeared.

Now he was back, and I couldn't even be happy about it because he was working with someone whom I despised.

It was a conundrum wrapped in a conniption-fit-inducing jealousy.

Yep, I was plenty mad at him.

After the shower, I took my time brushing through my hair and pulling on my terry cloth robe. When I finally exited the bathroom, I found the house empty.

I guess he'd decided not to chat with me right then.

I was torn between being disappointed and being relieved.

But I had lasagna, garlic bread, and sweet tea waiting on me. And it was high time for food and family—my two favorite things.

"Come on in and set a spell." —Things We Say in the South

As I crossed the lawn, I saw Denise and Paget pull up the driveway in Denise's minivan. Paget jumped out as soon as the van came to a stop and ran to me. We embraced, and I held tight until she finally started making noises that indicated she was becoming uncomfortable. And since one of her episodes was the last thing I needed right then, I let her go.

Without another word, she took off up the steps to Ms. Lanier's house and ran inside without knocking. I knew she was trying not to miss the beginning of
Jeopardy
, one of her favorite shows, at which she was amazingly good.

I took Paget's things from Denise and stepped back inside the kitchen door to our house, stowing them away. "Thanks so much for keeping her last night and today. I know she had a blast."

Denise waved me off and handed me a tote bag as she waited just outside on our porch. "She missed you, but we had fun."

I tossed the bag inside and shut the door behind me.

I stepped forward and sat on the porch steps. "Do you have a second or two to chat with me?" I needed some advice.

Denise sat next to me. In the light of our porch, I could see her examining my wrists. I tucked them between my knees.

"You okay?" she asked.

I took a deep breath and exhaled it. "I've been better." My voice quivered a little, but I held in the tears.

"What do you want to chat about? You mentioned something about it yesterday."

"Yeah. Um…has Paget seemed quiet or a little more dejected to you lately? I mean more than just when she's having a bad day." I wasn't exactly sure how to describe her moodiness of late, but I knew there was something different going on.

"I know what you mean, Mandy." Denise leaned back, placing her hands behind her on the floorboards of the porch.

"Any idea what is going on with her?" Being a parent to a teen was difficult, under the best of circumstances. But having one with special needs was something I wasn't prepared for. It was a steep learning curve.

"Well, with teens you can't always tell. But I think in this case, it might have to do with Adam."

"What's happened with Adam?" I asked.

"Two things. One, he's been offered a football scholarship to Auburn in the fall." Her voice remained calm, but I could hear the pride shining through.

"Oh, congratulations, Denise. That's wonderful. I know you and Andy are thrilled." I reached over and patted her on the arm.

"Yes. We are happy for him. But…"

"But Paget knows about it, and she's having trouble understanding." I filled in the blanks.

"Yes. There's that. And…Adam has a girlfriend."

My stomach dropped. Pain and sadness for Paget engulfed me. I knew how she felt.

"It was bound to happen," I managed to respond. I wanted to trot over to Ms. Lanier's house and wrap my little sister in my arms.

"Yep, he's given in to the pressures of youth and asked a girl to the prom. I'm not really sure what having a girlfriend means these days, but this seems to be the inciting incident," Denise continued.

"The prom? Already?" I closed my eyes as a flicker of Ty and me slow dancing the night of our senior prom shot through my head and left a sharp pain in its wake.

"Anyway, I've been talking to her about it and encouraging her to understand that this doesn't change anything between us. She's still like family to us, and she and Adam will always have a special bond that no one can break." Denise's voice was strong and her words intelligent. But I swore I could hear her heart breaking a little anyway.

"Thank you for clearing this up for me," I said. "Being a teen is hard."

"Being a Mom is hard," Denise countered.

"And thank you for everything you've done for us. I can't possibly pay you enough, but maybe that will change after next week." Thoughts of my new job perked up my mood just a little.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, a smile crossing her face. "What's happening next week?"

"I've been promoted to manager at the clinic." The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I'd meant to tell Ms. Lanier and Paget first, but the news was out.

"That's wonderful, Mandy. Congrats." Denise reached over and placed her arm around my shoulders, squeezing me in for a side hug.

I smiled at her. "Thank you, you're the first person I've told."

"Well, I'm honored," she replied. She released my shoulders and stood up, dusting off the butt of her jeans as she rose.

"So, give me a week or two, and you'll be in for a much deserved raise." I finally felt confident in making such a statement, and it felt good.

"Uh, no way. You and Paget are like part of our family. I don't need your money, Mandy." She winked at me and then made her way back to her van.

"We'll see," I said, watching her slip inside.

She waved as she backed out of our driveway.

Denise Owens was a good woman. I wanted to be more like her. But, at the moment, I had news to share and wounds to heal—both my physical wounds and Paget's emotional wounds. Being a Murrin was kind of hard these days.

*  *  *

I sat at the table with Ms. Maimie and Ms. Lanier, and I could tell that they were making every effort not to mention my wrists or my neck.

"Every time you've come over today, you've had a new injury. Care to tell us what's going on?" Ms. Lanier's effort to remain silent finally broke down.

I finished off my tea and then sat back in the chair. "Let me see if I can sum it up for you. A drugged-out Brady Blue, that barefoot redneck oaf who owns the gym in town, came by the garage and attacked one of the mechanics and Mr. Hollon. Then he tried to stick me in his truck by pulling my hair and choking me." I indicated my neck injury.

Ms. Maimie gasped, but I knew that she'd heard most of this already. There was no way that gossip this good hadn't reached her at the café yet. Plus the fact that Devon knew all about it. I cut my eyes at her.

She nodded and then looked down at her hands. "Please continue," she said.

"I was rescued by Colin." The two women looked at each other and smiled.

"Don't smile yet," I said, my voice sounding a little more bitter than I'd intended.

Ms. Lanier stood and began serving up slices of fudge pie. "What happened next?" She asked.

"I went by to see Dr. C., and he showed me Mick Thibault's body."

They gasped simultaneously.

They wouldn't have known this tidbit. I'd decided to share it with them while I'd been in the shower thinking. I needed some input, and I decided that I might as well get it from them.

"Ya'll can't go around sharing this yet, okay?" I gave them my I'm-serious-you'd-better-not-run-your-beaks-at-the-beauty-shop glare.

They nodded, and Ms. Lanier slid the first piece of pie over to me. I thought back to my huge piece of chocolate cake from earlier today and decided that a kidnapping canceled out all those carbs. I took a huge bite of pie as they settled in at the table with theirs.

"Mick had final stage cancer. Dr. C. is not even sure that he didn't just die from that."

"But how did he get in the trunk and why?" Ms. Maimie asked as she added a dollop of Cool Whip to her pie and offered the spoon to me.

I took it and added two scoops to my half-eaten slice.

"I don't know, but I have an idea. Someone very bad thinks that Mick had something of theirs."

"Who?" they both said at the same time. I smiled. They called themselves the Hoots and this response from them had brought that to mind.

"I'm getting to that." I ate more pie.

Ms. Lanier refilled my glass of tea.

I left out the part about Dr. C. and Ms. Quick making smoochy faces on the front porch. I wasn't a hundred percent sure how I felt about it yet, and I wanted to tell Paget first anyway.

"Oh yeah, and he called in some antibiotics for your toe. I'll take a look at it before I leave, and we'll get your prescription in the morning, okay?"

"Yes, dear. But, you know, I've been soaking it in warm salty water, and I think it might be better now."

Ms. Lanier believed that warm salty water cured everything. She once drank three glasses of it to cure a sore throat, but threw it up instead. I gave her a warning look.

"Anyway, then I went to work at the clinic and guess what?"

They leaned in closer to me. Their eyes searching my face for the revealing moment.

"I got a promotion! I start full-time running the clinic all by myself on Monday." I squealed with delight.

They jumped up out of their seats and ran around the table to squeeze me. I laughed as I almost suffocated in the baby powder that assaulted my nasal cavity. Ms. Maimie rubbed my back, and Ms. Lanier kissed my cheek, leaving behind some Cool Whip.

"Okay, calm down." I laughed.

"What happened to that Andrulis fellow?" Ms. Maimie asked as they finally returned to their seats, and I scrubbed my face with a napkin.

"He's transferring to a new clinic in Birmingham." I finished off my pie in two more quick bites and then leaned back to rub my full tummy.

"Then you had a date with Devvie," Ms. Maimie said. Obviously, she couldn't wait to move me forward.

"Yes. Mr. Andrulis gave me the afternoon off, and I met with Devon at the Turtle."

Again, I left out the part about the confrontation and conversation with Randall Jamison. I might ask them about it later, but I wanted to see those results first. I made a mental note to go by the clinic tomorrow and check them myself. I could just see Mr. Andrulis phoning Randall and stirring up another incident. Randall Jamison was an avid hunter, and I tried to block the image of him stuffing Mr. Andrulis and adding him to his office menagerie of taxidermied pets. It made me shiver.

"Devon is very nice, and we've made a follow-up date." I smiled. That's all I was going to say about our date. I wasn't sure how much Devon shared with his grandmother.

"I already know. You're going to that music theatre thing at the Catfish Haven," Ms. Maimie interjected, and Ms. Lanier chuckled.

"Interesting choice. Was it his idea or yours?" Ms. Lanier asked.

"It was his. Are you crazy? Do you think Mandy wants to see that? The boy doesn't know about things like this—he's come over from Atlanta," Ms. Maimie said.

"Yeah," Ms. Lanier said as if that explained everything.

"No, really. I don't mind," I said convincingly. "I'm looking forward to getting to know him better."

"Alright, let her off the hook, Maimie. She doesn't want to talk about that. So what did you do all afternoon then? You never have time off," Ms. Lanier asked, changing the subject.

I held out my wrists for them to see. "And I didn't exactly make the best use of it today."

Ms. Lanier stood up and teetered over to the kitchen and started digging in a drawer.

"What in heaven's sake are you doing?" Ms. Maimie turned around to investigate.

I, too, wondered what she was up to, but I'd learned a long time ago it was usually better not to ask.

"I'm getting some of this salve I made. It will be perfect for her raw little wrists." More digging.

"Are you okay, Mandy?" Ms. Maimie looked back at me, real concern in her eyes now.

I felt mine welling up a little. "Well, this day has really packed a punch. That's for sure."

Ms. Lanier shuffled around to my side of the table, and I allowed her to rub her salve on my wrists. It came out of an old Tupperware container, and I was afraid to ask about its ingredients. But I let her do her thing—as long as it made her feel better.

When she seemed satisfied with her efforts, she returned the container to the counter and sat back down.

"Hank O'Hannigan kidnapped me at gunpoint," I said the words as softly as I could, all the while looking around the wall and into the den. There was no way I wanted Paget to hear any of this. She was terrified of guns, and after her episode at the café yesterday, I wasn't about to set off another one now.

Both women gasped. Ms. Maimie put her fingertips to her lips.

"Did he hurt you?" Ms. Lanier asked. "I mean, besides the wrists."

"How could Devon not tell us about this?" Ms. Maimie asked.

I held out my hand to staunch the questions. "The cops don't know, and I'm fine."

They gave each other another glance. They weren't happy.

"He came up to my car and pointed the gun at me and then tied me up and blindfolded me." As I recounted the story, my stomach tightened. He could have killed me, and no one would have had a clue. I thought about how he'd taken me in my own car, and I wondered if something similar had happened to Mick Thibault. Had they just put him in the trunk instead? Maybe he was tougher to subdue because of his size. Maybe he didn't go willingly.

My thoughts were interrupted by the two women arguing with one another.