Family Matters (12 page)

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by like this.”

“Not at all. I’m really glad you did.” Gracie hoped that her T-shirt was clean and her hair presentable. At least she had some makeup today. With any luck, she hadn’t rubbed mascara all over her face.

“Well, there’s good news and bad news on the DMV front. Which do you want first?”

“Might as well get the bad news over with. I’ve had plenty of that this week.”

“Sorry to hear that.
More than just the robbery?”

“Plenty more.”
Gracie suddenly launched into a litany of the business and personal disasters that had overflowed her life during the last week.

“Uh, wow. I’m really sorry about your uncle and…” Deputy Stevens face looked bewildered and a little overwhelmed. “I didn’t realize…”

Gracie was shocked at herself, that she had just shared a torrent of complaints and grief with a total stranger.

“I’m really sorry. I don’t know where all that came from. I guess it’s the lemonade talking.” She feebly tried to make a joke.

“Sounds like you’ve had a pretty bad week, so a little venting is understandable.” He sat forward in his chair and took another drink from the glass dripping with condensation.

“What’s the bad news then about the DMV?” She was anxious to focus on Charlotte, not her current life.

“Well, the DMV doesn’t keep records that far back, so looking for a partial plate that old is pretty impossible.” He set the empty glass on the small wicker side table.

“I thought that would be the case, so that’s not a big surprise. Is there any good news in any of this?”

“The good news is that, with a little digging, I think I can find the original incident report without the redactions. Maybe that will help you sort things out.”

“Is that something I can request, or do you have to do that?”

“Since I go in Tuesday morning to catch up on my paperwork, I can do a little research in the office at the same time. If I find it, I’ll make a copy.”

“Thanks, that sounds great.” Then Gracie’s mind flashed to the little snag in getting Uncle Stan’s body released. “On another subject, can you also find out why the medical examiner won’t release my uncle’s body?”

Marc looked surprised as she explained about the holdup in getting the body to the funeral home.

“I’m not sure about that,” he said hesitantly, his eyes narrowing.
“Could be a lot of things to delay the release. It happens all the time.”

The moment suddenly seemed awkward, and he stood saying he needed to get going. Gracie felt her face flush. She had the distinct impression she’d scared him with her
multiple personal and business issues. Not very smooth. She watched him get into his car and then walked back to the patio door with Haley close at her heels.

“That went well! I’m almost 40, but socially, I’m about 15. I’ve got to get out more. What do you think, girl?”

Haley merely wagged her tail and flopped down in front of the fan on the living room floor.

J
oe Youngers chewed the inside of his cheek. His grandmother had given him the ultimatum. His Uncle Ron was coming to make sure it happened too. He had to get Brad and Carter out within the next week. He knew they’d been on thin ice for a while. He had warned them, but their slovenly habits, odd hours, and rough language were well-ingrained. Joe also knew there would be threats that Brad would not hesitate to carry out. He needed to choose his words carefully.

Carter and Brad were usually together, but Carter came in alone.

“Where’s Brad?” Joe said offhandedly.

“He’s finishing up at the depot.
Should be back in a few minutes. There were some kids hanging around he had to deal with.”

Joe’s stomach lurched. So far, there hadn’t been trouble with the local kids. They had been able to store the “inventory” without too much curiosity. They had found a section of the crumbling depot that wasn’t used by transients and dope-smoking kids. It was dry and fairly secure. Joe hoped that Brad wasn’t being too rough, arousing suspicion. He figured he might as well get started on the conversation he dreaded. He cleared his throat and shoved his thin, sinewy hands deep into his jeans pockets.

“You know, I’ve got some stuff to talk to you and Brad about.”

“
Whaddaya mean, Joe? You don’t look so good.” Carter stared blandly at Joe.

“It’s my grandmother. She’s not
doin’ so well lately. I might have to put her in a home or somethin’.”

“That’s too bad, but we’d have the house to ourselves then, so that would be good, right?” Carter ran his thin hand through the shaggy brown hair that fell haphazardly into his eyes.

“Yeah, but we’ve got a problem. My uncle is coming to stay for a while, and he’s not going to like you and Brad living here. You’re going to have to…”

Brad came through the front door. His shaved head was streaked with dirt and his AC/DC black T-shirt clung to his bulky torso.

“Have to do what?” he demanded.

Joe swallowed hard. He casually stepped nearer to the back door, hoping to give himself room to run if necessary.

“It’s not what I want, but you guys have to move out, for a while anyway. My uncle could cause a lot of problems. He’s a retired state trooper.”

“Where’d we go? Your uncle is just going to have to deal with it.” Brad’s brown eyes were sharp and belligerent.

“You’re goin’ to have to find somethin’. You don’t know my uncle. He doesn’t mess around, and he wouldn’t think twice about puttin’ us all back in prison.”

“Maybe we can just take care of that problem.” He flexed his right arm, well-developed muscles popping.

“Hey, Brad, I don’t want to go back to prison. We can find something.” Carter was getting nervous. The mention of a cop in the house didn’t appeal to him at all.

“Call that program that got me hooked up, you know…Second Chances.” Joe tried to sound hopeful.

“That old bag, the preacher’s wife, is a nut case. What good will she do?” Brad was sneering.

“She’s a little loony, but she’s got connections. She can probably find you a place to stay for a while.” Joe was getting desperate.

“Come on, Brad, we can check it out. I really don’t want any trouble.” Carter was looking more anxious. He wiped sweaty hands on his faded jeans.

“Well, I guess we can check it out and see. She might set us up with a good situation like you. You’re still in this, Joe. I’m
expectin’ you to keep us in the loop.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about that. If you’re outta here, it’ll be easier to keep things quiet.” Joe was starting to feel a little more relieved. He grabbed a can of beer for each of them from the dingy white refrigerator and headed to the back porch.

“To better days,” Joe said lightly, raising the can to the air.

“Yeah, whatever,” growled Brad.

Carter drank his beer slowly, watching a stray cat saunter across the yard. He grabbed the pellet gun propped against the house.

“Watch this.” He quickly took aim and shot the gray cat in the head. It fell to the ground,
spasmed, and then lay still.

“Not bad, Carter.”
Brad was smirking and then crumpled the empty can in his paw-like hand.

Joe winced and stretched out arms on the weathered railing. White paint chips, flaking off the porch railing, speckled the dirt below.

“Hey, take care of that before my grandmother sees it. She feeds those strays, you know.”

“Maybe she’ll just have to boo-
hoo over this one,” Brad sneered.

“Yeah, that’ll teach her,” Carter snorted.

“Just take care of it. I gotta go to work.” Joe said. He suddenly felt weak and shaky. “The shovel is in the shed.”

“Sure thing, boss.
Make sure you come back with some fresh info tonight.” Brad took his crumpled can and twisted it in half.

G
racie sat straight up in bed, gasping for air, as if she had been underwater. She was running through the hayfield, trying to get to Michael. The rear tractor tires were spinning in the air as it lay upside down. Everything was slow motion, and she couldn’t reach the tractor. Michael’s voice kept calling for her, but her legs were like lead. She kept running, never making enough progress to get to the tractor. When she looked down, she wasn’t running through grass, but mud that was knee high.

She looked at the clock. It was 5:30, and she needed to get up anyway. She hadn’t had that nightmare for many months, and now it was back. The hot, sharp spray of water from the showerhead felt good on her face, as she tried to wash away the horror of the dream and the memories of real life. Maybe it had been stupid to flush the medication. There had to be an emergency stash of pills somewhere in her desk or purse. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No. I am fine,” she told herself, rinsing the shampoo from her hair.

Jim and Gracie shuffled four applications between them as they sat in the office, discussing the best choice.

“Here’s the one I like,” she said pushing the paper to Jim.

“Cheryl Stone?” He scanned her resume and application.

“Yeah, she’s got the most experience with dogs. She takes overflow dogs from the county shelter, teaches 4-H dog obedience, and isn’t a criminal.”

“You can’t blame Mrs. Minders for trying.” Jim adjusted the Yankees cap on his head and leaned back in the black task chair.

“I guess not, but those two she sent over yesterday were pretty bad. The one with the messy hair wasn’t especially bright, and Haley didn’t like him. Always trust a dog’s instincts about people.”

“I’ll go along with you on that one; Carter was his name, I think. The other one wasn’t too bad though. At least he had some animal experience.” Jim smiled, anticipating Gracie’s response.

“Turtles and canaries don’t count. Neither one is a mammal.” She looked up from the last application and saw Jim’s grin. “OK, who do you think?” Gracie said teasingly with hands on her hips.

“I say call Cheryl Stone. See if she can start this week.”

“Good, at least we agree on this one. Isn’t Joe’s review coming up today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, I guess. He’s doing fine. He’s caught on to everything I’ve asked him to do. He’s on time every day, and he’s willing to work weekends.
Any complaints on your side?”

“None that I can put my finger on.
It’s just a feeling I have. But he was in church with his grandmother Sunday, so maybe I’ve been too hard on him. Watch him though; I just don’t trust him completely.”

“Right, Chief.”
With a quick salute, Jim was out the door, whistling
American
Pie
.

Marian stuck her head in the doorway, pointing to the portable phone in her hand.

“It’s your Mom, Gracie. I think they’ve got the funeral set.”

“Thanks, Marian. I’ll take it in here.” Gracie picked up the receiver and punched the blinking button.

But the funeral wasn’t set, according to her mother. It was Wednesday and still no Uncle Stan to bury. Isabelle was fuming about the incompetence of the medical examiner and the impropriety of not being able to lay her father to rest. The latest development was that the sheriff’s department was doing a little more investigation. The M.E. found some unexplained bruising, and there was a minimal amount of alcohol in his system. He was ruling it a suspicious death.

“You’re kidding, right?” Gracie’s voice rose in disbelief.

“I’m afraid not. You can expect an investigator to ask you some more questions. They’ve already talked to Isabelle and Tim. They’ll probably talk to us too. It’s a real mess. I don’t see how they can think it was anything other than an accident.” Theresa’s voice matched the timbre of her daughter’s.

“I guess I’ll make sure I’m around today. It’s
gotta make you wonder.” The wheels were turning, as she chewed on the eraser of the pencil in her hand.

“What do you mean?” Theresa sounded puzzled.

“Nothing, Mom. Just thinking out loud, I guess. I’ll let you know if anyone from the sheriff’s department shows up.”

“OK, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Gracie heard the click at the other end and slowly put the receiver back in the cradle. She suddenly had the urge to get Charlotte’s diary from the living room and read it again. Things were hectic in the kennel though, so there was no way she could leave. She hurried back to the reception area to relieve Marian of phone duties so she could get the grooming customers back on schedule.

When the phone calls slowed down, she gave Cheryl Stone a call to see if she’d accept the job offer. When she did, Gracie yelled out, “Hot dog!” and danced around the
desk. Haley jumped up with enthusiasm, her front paws hitting Gracie’s stomach. She laughed and grabbed the dog’s paws and continued dancing. Jim came in with work gloves stuck in his back pocket, as Marian was driving out to pick up lunches at Midge’s.

“Good news?” he asked. He stood with hands on his hips and a hopeful expression in his eyes.

“Yes. Good news,” said Gracie, her eyes bright. Haley sat panting by her knee.

“Cheryl can start tomorrow since she’s not working. I should be able to get her trained in a week or two.” Gracie felt more lighthearted than she had in days.

“All right! We’re going to see light after all.” Jim went to Gracie’s office and pulled a Coke from the small refrigerator. “Want a diet?” he called back.

“Yes, thanks. Wait till I tell you what else is going on, though.”

“What now? Something about your Uncle Stan?” He handed Gracie a bottle of Diet Coke and sat in one of plastic brown chairs in the waiting area.

“His death has been ruled suspicious. The sheriff’s department is still investigating. They’ll probably talk with me. They’ve already seen Isabelle and Tim.” She took a long swallow of the icy cola.

“You’re kidding. How could they think that? He must have had a few beers in him.”

“Not from what the medical examiner says. Plus there’s some kind of strange bruising.”

“I don’t know, Gracie. Sounds like they’re making a mountain out of molehill. He fell down a flight of stairs; he would have bruises.”

“There must be something different about them.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s an Investigator Hotchkiss out here,” said Joe, who was hauling a 50-pound bag of kibble. His face was white, and he shifted the weight of bag on his shoulder uneasily.

“Thanks, Joe. I’ll go see him.” Gracie tucked in her T-shirt and ran her fingers through her unruly red hair. It was curling out of control in the humidity.

“Uh, it’s a her.” Joe quickly turned toward the runs.

“I’ll catch the phones while you go and chat.” Jim slid into the task chair behind the desk.

“Thanks. Hopefully, this won’t take long.” Gracie was suddenly nervous, a million jumbled thoughts sparking in her brain.

Two hours later, Gracie was back in the grooming area with Marian. The Sheltie standing on the grooming table licked Gracie’s hand. She absently rubbed the dog’s ears.

“I’ve never been so insulted in my life. The questions she asked. It was unbelievable. She acted like I killed Uncle Stan.” Gracie’s face was redder than her hair.

“Cops are always like that. Everybody’s a suspect. You watch
Law and Order,
don’t you?”

“I can’t believe that’s actually real life. Investigator Hotchkiss has got some real attitude,” Gracie huffed.

“And you don’t?” Jim had just come in at the tail end of Gracie’s tirade.

“No comments from the peanut gallery, thank you.”

“Lighten up, Chief. She’s just doing her job.”

“I suppose, but if Uncle Stan was truly…” She couldn’t bring herself to say “murdered.” “I think it must have something to do with Charlotte. I need to figure out why he gave me those papers.”

“Gracie, let the cops do their work, and all of this will get sorted out. I’ll bet they change their minds soon. Who would hurt Stan?” Jim sounded so logical and calm.

Right now, logical and calm seemed annoying, but she decided to stay cool herself and surprise everybody.

“We’ll see. But, hey, boys and girls, it’s time to close up, so let’s go home.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Marian said
, sighing. “I’ll get Sam kenneled, and then I’m outta here.” She easily lifted the Sheltie from the table and led him down the hallway on a blue leash.

“Good night, Marian
. Thanks for another great day.” Gracie was sincerely worried that Marian would quit the kennel, given all of the turmoil. She was looking pretty weary.

“I’ll go check on Joe and lock up the barns.” Jim left through the front door.

“Great. I’ll do bed checks after I count the receipts.”

There weren’t as many checks and credit card slips today. She hoped this wasn’t a trend. There were footsteps in the reception area as she finished putting the deposit in the safe.

“Hey, Jim, is that you?” she called out. There was no answer.

“Who’s there?” She felt the hair on the back of her neck rising.

“Uh, just me. Joe.”

“Oh. Is there something you need?”

“I was just getting my hat. I left it in reception. Good night.”

Relieved, Gracie exhaled slowly. The kennel still gave her the creeps when she was alone.

“Good night, Joe.”

Old yearbooks and the diary entries were scattered over the living room floor. An open phonebook was on Gracie’s lap. She finally found the name she was looking for—K. Russell. It had to be Kay Russell, long-time cheerleading coach and English teacher. She lived in Perry on Marquis Avenue. There was no answer, but the voicemail confirmed her hopes. Gracie left a message, explaining she was doing some research on cheerleaders and football players back in the early 90s.

She hoped that the retired teacher wasn’t on vacation. Some quick answers about Galahad and Lancelot were
needed, and maybe Kay could supply them. Gracie had no idea where Matthew Minders was these days. He hadn’t been in Deer Creek for many years. She really didn’t want to call Gloria Minders to ask about her son and have to explain why the kennel hadn’t hired either of her two candidates. She typed in his name on the search engine page that was already loaded on her laptop. She uncrossed her legs as 20 possibilities appeared on the next screen.

There were two good prospects: one in Jamestown, New York, and the other in Denver, Colorado. The one in Jamestown was mentioned in a newspaper article from a year ago. He was a counselor and had spearheaded a new program for victims of domestic violence. The other Matthew was an electrical engineer for a large firm in Denver. Gracie would bet the farm that her Matthew Minders was in Jamestown. He was a lot like his mother; always involved in social justice programs. She quickly dialed the number in Jamestown. Her heart was pounding as the phone rang. What was she going to say? Suddenly, it all seemed pretty awkward and far-fetched. What was she doing?

“Hello,” a female voice answered.

“Hi. Is Matthew there?” Gracie bit her lip.

“Sure, just a minute. Who’s calling?”

“An old friend, Gracie Andersen.”

“Oh.” the friendliness in the voice changed slightly.

“Uh oh,” Gracie whispered to Haley, who watched her with interest, while chewing on a rawhide. Haley’s warm,
liquidy brown eyes followed her mistress as she paced with the phone.

“Gracie, what a surprise!
How are you?” The warm male voice was familiar. She softly let out her breath.

But the conversation didn’t stay as relaxed as she’d hoped. The memories of Charlotte were painful for both of them, but in the end, Matthew agreed to make the two-hour trip on the weekend to go over the police report and
Charlotte’s diary. Within minutes of hanging up with Matthew, the phone rang as Gracie pored over the police report once again. It was her mother.

“The funeral’s on. They’re releasing the body tonight. Isabelle wants the funeral tomorrow night at the church.”

“Why so quick? That hardly gives any time for visiting hours.”

“There won’t be calling hours. Isabelle feels everybody is just waiting for the word, so the sooner the better. She’s really been through enough. The police questioned her for quite a while today.”

“I had the same treatment. Was it an Investigator Hotchkiss?”

“That sounds right. We had Deputy Stevens here. He seemed very nice. He asked if we knew where Stan was Friday night and Saturday morning. He also wanted to know where Isabelle and Tim were too.”

“Deputy Stevens! He’s the one investigating the robbery here. Do you know where they were?” Her curiosity was piqued, and a flush of embarrassment came back at the memory of Sunday afternoon.

“Not really. We assumed Stan was at the VFW, like he usually is on Friday nights. I don’t know about Saturday. Your
dad checked on him Friday morning, and he seemed to be doing pretty well. Isabelle says she was over earlier that afternoon, but I don’t know where she went after that. She and Tim usually go out to dinner on Fridays.