All In The Family (9 page)

“Of course, dear.”

Callie could see the wheels turning already. She needed to get out of here as quickly as possible or her aunt would give William the third degree. She stood, grabbed the crutch, closed her travel case and sat in the wheelchair, case on her lap. “Would you bring my crutches, please?”

Callie wheeled out of the room just as the doorbell rang.

Aunt Beatrice Lulu hurried ahead and opened the door. Callie couldn’t get there
quick enough.

“You must be William. Callie told me about you,” her aunt said as Callie rounded the corner.

“William, thank you for coming.” Callie hurried to the door ready to cut her aunt off. “I’m ready. Aunt Beatrice Lulu, thank you for your help and letting me stay. I’ll see you next week.” No way was she letting her aunt ask even one question. She headed out the door before her aunt had a chance to close it behind William. “If you’ll grab my crutches, we can go.” Unfortunately, she couldn’t get her wheelchair over the threshold.

“Here, let me help.” William lifted the chair just enough for the front wheels to cross the entrance. “Okay?”

“Excuse me.” Aunt Beatrice Lulu’s whiny voice came from behind. “You can at least introduce me.”

Crap, she was hoping to avoid that. If the damn chair hadn’t got stuck, “Sorry, William, this is my aunt. Beatrice Lulu, William. Ready?”

“Calista Marie Johnson! You’re being very rude.”

“I’m sorry, but we’re in a bit of a hurry. I’ll call you later.”

“See that you do,” my aunt ordered.

She was going to catch hell later. Probably from her
aunt and her mother. More than likely her aunt was on the phone with her mother as William helped her into the car.

“Spare me well meaning relatives.”

“Sounds like she just has your best interest at heart.”

“Lord, now you sound just like her.” How would William do meeting her family? Maybe it was time to find out. “Are you busy next Sunday?”

“Not really. Want to do something?”

“There’s a family reunion. Are you up to meeting my crazy relatives?” Callie hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. Maybe it was too soon. But may as well find out now. Too late to rescind the invitation anyway.

“Sure. Sounds like fun. How many crazy relatives are we talking about?” William reached across the seat and took her hand, causing a warm sensation.

“Only about twenty-five of us, but that includes kids. Grandmother, parents, sister,
a couple of uncles two other aunts besides Aunt Beatrice Lulu, Aunt Ethel and Aunt Charlotte, but everyone calls her Lottie. Aunt Ethel is the ring leader.”

“Ring leader? You make them sound like a group of criminals.”

“Close, but not quite. They love to play jokes, tricks. Once they built a square snowman in my Uncle Clyde’s yard. That’s their brother. It was actually kind of cute.”

“A square snowman, I’d have loved to see that.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t out of snow. They made it out of boxes. Another time, after he spent hours putting up Christmas lights, they went over and put colored lights among the white ones. Aunt Ethel always says colored lights are happy lights.”

“How do they manage to do all of this? I mean didn’t he see them?”

“Oh, they do it when he’s not home. Problem with the lights, they neglected to use outdoor lights and it started raining. By time Uncle Clyde came home, all the lights were out because it blew a fuse. It took him a while to figure it out.”

“Uh oh. Wasn’t your uncle mad?”

“He was that time. But trust me, he’s no better. I’ll never forget the year they delivered fake fruit baskets to him and a few cousins. They actually got Gram involved in that one and took it to Uncle Clyde’s work. Got his secretary to go along with them.”

“Sounds like they go
all out. Your family intrigues me. Tell me more.”

“I think the best one was the year Aunt Lottie stripped away the pine needles from the top of an old
artificial Christmas tree. She put it in a can with cement so it would stand on its own, decorated it with broken watches, buttons and other odd things, then added purple and yellow ribbon and wrapped it in paper the florists use. She delivered it to my Aunt Ethel. I could go on, but that pretty well sums it up. Over the years they’ve played numerous tricks on each other. Are you sure you’re up to meeting them?”

“Piece of cake.  Why do you call your aunt Beatrice Lulu?”

Callie laughed. Lord it felt good to laugh. Felt good to be out of the house, away from her aunt’s prying eyes. Sure, her aunt meant well, but the woman was just too overbearing. Callie gave William the shortened version of her aunt’s name. Not that it was much shorter than the long version.

William
pulled in her drive. “Don’t get out. I’ll come around and help you.” He took the wheelchair out of the trunk, opened it and came to the car door and helped Callie into the chair. Just as he turned it toward the house, Zoey bounded up to them.

William pulled back
on the chair so hard, it almost tipped over. “What the…! You okay?” He stepped in front of Callie.

Zoey sat down in front of him. Callie laughed.
“Hey, Zoey, how you doing, girl? Zoey belongs to the next door neighbor. She comes to visit every so often.”

“Is she friendly?”

“Yeah, she looks scary, but she’s a teddy bear.”

William
reached down and patted Zoey’s head. “She sure is a beauty. Big too. Scared the crap out of me the way she came running.”

“You should have seen me the first time I met her. In my kitchen.”

“In your kitchen?” William pushed her toward the house, while Callie explained the meeting.

***

Once William left and Callie settled in, she made the phone calls to set up the appointments with the three applicants Jim gave her. Right now she was leaning toward Sam Vansworth. Mostly because of his lack of experience. She liked the idea of training him their way right from the start. Nothing wrong with other town’s way of doing things, but they each had their own way. Not that she’d make the decision without talking to them. Each of the applicants had their own strengths and each sounded good. Jim wouldn’t have even saved an application if he didn’t think they’d be right for the department.

She also called the doctor and set up the appointment for the MRI. The swelling had finally gone down. Hopefully, it wasn’t as serious as they first thought. She needed to get back to work. Never one to sit around, even as a child, this inactivity was driving her nuts. Luckily, they gave her an appointment for the next day. She could hardly wait.

Chapter 12

Callie left the doctor’s office with a sense of new found freedom. Her MRI came out good and the doctor gave her a knee brace. Praise God, she could walk without crutches, but better yet, she could return to work. She walked into the station a few minutes later.

Jim Landry looked up. His mouth dropped open.  His hand went to his chest. “What…Who?”

“I’m back.”

“But your knee?” He stood, came around the side of the desk and looked at her.

“All better. Doc gave me a knee brace, and I’m good as new. How are things around here?”

“Quiet, actually.”

Apparently, he spoke too soon because the phone rang almost before the words were out of his mouth. He started toward the desk to answer it, stopped, and motioned her forward. It was her office after all.

She shook her head. “Go ahead, answer it.”

He still worked here until she could hire someone. Something she wanted to talk to him about. But that would have to wait.

Thank goodness, he agreed to help out. With Sanders gone, they were short-handed. Only Sergeant Billings and Officer Peters were left.

“Damn!” Jim slammed down the phone. “Why couldn’t the last couple days before retirement be quiet and boring? Let’s go.” He motioned to Callie. “We have a body. Don’t happen often round here.”

They jumped into
their car and sped across town with sirens blaring. Poor Jim didn’t need this now. Only a few more days and he was supposed to take off on his dream vacation. Two weeks fishing up in Canada. But, as they say, “it is what it is.”

“Don’t worry, Jim. You’ll still be able to go on that trip.”

“Hell, Callie, I can’t leave you with a mess.”

“I’ll have to learn sometime. Now’s a good a time as any. You stick to your plans. We’ll handle it.”

A few minutes later, they pulled up at the taped off crime scene and turned off the siren. Officer Peters paced the sidewalk, waiting for them.

“What we got, Peters?” Callie stepped over the yellow tape and looked around. Good officer, Peters. Knew his stuff.

“Male victim, mid-thirties, we didn’t touch nothing.” Peters motioned for them to follow and led them to the body.

The fetid odor of death seeped into Callie’s nostrils. She swallowed back the queasiness that threatened to erupt.

Jim held his nose. “No matter how many bodies I’ve seen, the smell always gets to me. One thing I won’t miss about this job.”

The victim leaned against a water fountain, blank eyes staring into space.
“Oh crap.” Jim shook his head and took a deep breath, then let out a low whistle, his way of exhaling. “Even after thirty years, I can’t get used to this.” He pulled on a pair of latex gloves, then stooped down and put a gloved finger on the half-smashed pumpkin stuck on the victim’s head.

“God, look at this mess.” Orange pumpkin guts seeped out and oozed down the victim’s face. “Hello, what’s this?” He lifted the victim’s curled fingers and pulled out a note. “Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,” he read.

Callie stood back and watched him work. He was experienced in these things, and she wanted to learn everything she could. Besides, this was his last case. He deserved to be the lead.

Flashes from the photographer’s camera lit up the scene. Jim stood up, moved aside, and waited until
Tony Foxwoods lowered his camera. Callie wondered who called him. He wasn’t officially on the payroll, but he helped out from time to time.

“You done here?” Jim pulled off the glove and rubbed his neck. “I swear with every case, my neck stiffens worse - my head throbs. Tension, I guess. Been like that for thirty plus years.  Definitely time to retire, but I love this job and I’m gonna miss it.”

“Go ahead.” Jim stood back and motioned her to take over. It surprised her.

“Looks like strangulation.” Callie knelt down next to the body. With gloved hands, she fingered the tie that formed a noose around the victim’s neck. “My guess, he knew the killer.” She eased the wallet from the victim’s pocket and opened it. “Peter Winfield, 35, next of kin, Helen Winfield, wife.”

Jim aimed his flashlight around the scene. “Drag marks.” He bent down for a closer look. “Tony, get pictures of these.” He scanned the area with his flashlight. “Looks like a dump job. They killed him someplace else then dumped him here. All we need to do is find out who and where.” A half-smoked cigarette butt lay near the body. Jim examined it. “Djarum, imported. Make sure you bag that,” he called to Sergeant Billings. “And the pumpkin, see if you can get some prints off it.”

Jim shook his head. “What a waste.”  They walked to the edge of the park where the crime scene tape held back a crowd of curious onlookers. 

“Are there any witnesses, Peters?”

Peters pointed to three people. “They said they saw someone running out of the park. But only one can give a detailed description.”

“Okay.” Jim nodded. “I’ll talk to him. Callie, talk to the other two.” She stood for a minute and observed the man, before Jim approached. Skuzzy looking. Dirty shirt, torn pants. Probably homeless. Looked guilty about something. The man kicked at the dirt, not making eye contact. She was glad Jim was taking him. Could even be the killer.

“Okay give me a description of the guy.” Callie looked at the other two witnesses. It never ceased to amaze her how nervous witnesses were. Didn’t matter what they witnessed, robbery, accident, they all acted the same. Like they had something to hide. Hell,
maybe they did. Nothing would surprise her in this world. At least they came forward. Otherwise, they’d have no witnesses. Maybe it was just talking to the police. Guess that made some people nervous as hell.

“He was six feet tall, wore a gray shirt and dark pants, and he had short brown hair,” the first witness said.

“Any identifying marks? Tattoos? Birthmarks?”

The witness nodded. “Nothing that I recall. Oh he had a big nose.”

Callie wrote down the witness’s name and address, made a few notes, handed him her card and dismissed him.  “You think of anything else, give me a call.” The other witness was even less help.

She left them standing there and joined Jim just as he finished questioning his witness.

“Any help?” Jim asked?

“Not really.” She closed her notebook. “How about yours?”

“Could be anyone. I got his address, in case we want to ask him anything else. Not that I believe it’s his real address. From the smell of him, he doesn’t have a home. Description wasn’t much help but better than nothing.”  Jim shook his head. “For the most part the description matches any number of people in the crowd. Guess we better notify the widow. Peters, come with us. You sure you’re okay, Callie? Peters and I can handle it if your knee’s bothering you.”