Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6) (12 page)

"I suppose," Aunt Maggie said, now settling comfortably in her seat. The ache in my back spread. I struggled to find a more comfortable position. I was so tired, my shoulders hurt.

I was convinced the thief would hit the chicken place. This was the only place left in town sporting an over-sized animal. It just had to be Birdie’s and this had to be the night.

"You know you're just wasting your time, Betsy." I looked in the back seat, expecting to see Danny, but instead, Hunter Grayson, Libby Loper’s dead butler, sat there examining his manicure.

"My, my. What a tacky car. When was the last time you sanitized back here?" he asked, pursing his lips and cocking his head sideways.

"So I must be dreaming again."

"What do you think?" His British accent, dripping with disapproval, put me in my place. I chose to ignore his condescending tone.

"What are you doing here?"

"You Americans. Always in such a hurry. Why do you suppose we’re all being dragged out from The Great Beyond? Really, dearie, you may have solved my murder—and by the way, thank you for using your Yankee ingenuity on that—but still there does seem to be a recurring theme here."

"So do you have a message for me?" I knew these little meetings were brief, so there was no time for idle chit-chat.

"Did you enjoy going through all my treasures? Stupid Libby had no idea I was financing my dreams one gold card at a time."

"Your extensive vase collection struck me as a bit odd."

"I knew you were incapable of appreciating my fascination for them. They're so precious and breakable, but they're beautiful. I guess that's why I liked them so much. Once broken, a thing of beauty is gone forever. Crack. Your dream has vanished." He laughed at his own joke, although the humor was lost on me. His laughter changed into a knocking sound.

"Betsy? Is that you in there?" My father was tapping on the window. Maggie and Danny both jolted upright from their sleeping positions. I unrolled the window.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hi Uncle Judd," Danny chimed from the back seat.

"Hi Danny. And what are we all doing here tonight?" He directed his question toward Danny because he knew Danny would give his uncle a better answer than I would.

"I'm Batman. We are searching for bad guys."

"You are? Well that's just wonderful. See anything?"

Danny kept talking. "Yeah. I brought my bat signal just in case I had to signal you." He pulled out a little flashlight and turned it on. The light streamed through a bat cutout, projecting the image of a bat on my glove compartment.

"Impressive. We need one of those things down at the department."

Judd leaned on the door. "So are you three going to tell me what you’re really doing, or should I arrest you for loitering?"

"It was Betsy's idea," Maggie said.

"Okay," I conceded, "I’ll tell you why we're here. I think the chicken on the roof of Bird…" Before I could get the sentence out of my mouth, I realized the soup-can chicken was gone. It had been swiped while we were sleeping.

"Oh my," Aunt Maggie said, holding her head as if she were getting a headache.

"The chicken!" Danny said. "The bad guy stole the chicken!" My father turned around and looked toward the roof of Birdie’s Diner.

"Looks like it, and you guys slept through it all. I guess we got ourselves another crime scene."

My dad walked over to his car radio. I knew he was calling Birdie to tell her she was another victim of our thief.

He returned with a flashlight. "I'm just going to search the back alley. You stay here."

"Why wouldn’t I?" I said, batting my eyelashes.

"Smart ass." He walked off behind the diner.

I pulled myself out of the car.

"Danny can I use your Bat Signal?" I asked.

"Sure. Are you going to get the bad guy with my bat signal?"

"I’m going to try."

I turned on the flashlight, and the illuminated bat bounced on the side of the building as I walked. I could see a couple of spots of ripped roof shingle where I guessed that a ladder had been resting up against it. I noticed a tear in the awning on the front of the diner. Also from a ladder, was my guess. 

I considered standing on the air conditioning unit to get a better look at the crime scene, but with Maggie watching, I thought better of it. I caught a whiff of the lingering odor of paint, triggering memories of art class in high school. I touched the wall to see if it was freshly painted, but my hand slid over a smooth dry surface.

"Betsy you be careful over there," Aunt Maggie said, worry creeping into her voice.

I knew I couldn't get up on the roof, so I circled the perimeter of the restaurant looking for clues. Maybe there were footprints, and if there were, I was stepping all over them. The light bounced on something scrawled on the wall. It might be graffiti, although I hadn’t seen anything like that anywhere else in town. I brought the light closer and could see a circle with something inside.

A thief who liked big animals and smelled of paint—that could be anyone in Pecan Bayou. Around here, art in Pecan Bayou often consisted of paint-by-number specials bought at Super Walley. Holding the light closer to the wall, a yellow figure came into view. It was a smiley face. I knew who the thief was.

I flicked off the flashlight and hurried back to the car where Aunt Maggie and Danny waited.

"Did you see the bad man, Betsy?"

"Nope. He got away."

"Don't worry. Uncle Judd will get him. He always gets the bad men."

"That's right honey," Aunt Maggie said, stifling a yawn.

Birdie pulled in front of the diner, her tires squealing.

"Birdie, I didn’t expect you down here this quickly." My father looked from Birdie to a man who stood with his arm around her. "And this is?" 

"Sorry, Judd. This is my boyfriend. Jeff Ellis."

Ellis looked up at the roof.

"Dagnabbit." He hit his ball cap on the leg of his jeans. "I knew it. I called the police department right after the cow was stolen. The guy told me they don’t do protective patrols for inanimate objects."

"Normally, we don’t," my dad replied. "Who did you talk to, exactly?"

"That big guy with the high voice."

"That would have been Officer Beckman."

"Right—that dude."

"Who would steal a chicken made out of soup cans? I mean, what would it be worth to anybody?" Birdie said. 

Jeff withdrew his arm from around Birdie’s shoulder and faced her.

"Are you saying my chicken wasn't worth stealing?"

Realizing her error, Birdie backpedaled. "I’m just so upset."

I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw a little relief in Birdie’s eyes. Bad gifts from new boyfriends could be hard to say no to.

Birdie and her boyfriend talked to my father for a few more minutes. I stepped back to the car where Maggie was waiting.

"Well I guess this evening is a bust," I said.

"These things happen. Let's head home to get some sleep. I think we’re all tuckered out."

Maggie was right. Suddenly, I was incredibly exhausted. Not only that, but I hadn’t called Leo in the last few hours. If he were to get home before me and find out I had been trying to catch a thief all night, there would be hell to pay.

I dropped Maggie and Danny off and headed straight home. As I let myself into the house, my phone started ringing.

"Hey Betsy, sorry I'm so late calling. I'm on my way home right now. How are you feeling?"

"Oh… fine. Just fine." Leo did not respond immediately. We were getting to the point where he knew when I was trying to hide something.

"Are you sure? You not feeling the twinges of any kind of labor are you?"

"No. The baby is fine."

"Good. I'm so glad to hear that. I’m proud of you for taking a night to relax. We have a big delivery coming, and you need all the energy you can get."

I had a pang of guilt as I remembered how close I had come to climbing up on the air conditioner earlier. Should I tell him the truth, or should I just let him find out about it later? I decided to save it for later.

"It’s all about taking care of yourself," I said.

"You’re so right. I'll be home soon."

After a lousy night’s sleep, and once Leo left for the day, I decided to head over to Benny’s Barbecue to have a talk with Sasha.    

Sasha Holman, the waitress at Benny's, had mentioned her ex was a painter. She also mentioned her disapproval of his signature smiley face.

Would this guy be stupid enough to steal something and leave behind a signature? Signing a piece of art work is one thing, but signing a theft seemed a little out there, even for creative types.     

"Well now, if it isn’t Betsy. My most frequent customer. Aren't you just a few hours too early?" said Benny as I waddled in to his place of business.

"It’s never too early for a good day. Isn’t that what you told the boys when you made them get up at sunrise on all of those scout trips?"

Benny’s smile took on a smirk. "Good times. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if Sasha was in yet."

"She's in the back. I'll get her." A minute later Sasha came out wearing a kitchen apron, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Her luscious blond hair, crammed into a netted kitchen cap, transformed her from sexy to haggard. I wondered what Baxter Digby would think of this version of Sasha.

"You wanted to see me?" She looked nervous. It was unusual for a customer to ask for her by name, even if it was a pie-craving pregnant woman.

"Yes. Sorry to bother you, but I had a quick question. Didn't you say your ex-husband was a painter of some sort?"

She laughed, relaxing a little. "He fancies himself a painter. Does that count?"

"Can you tell me what kind of portraits he painted? I was thinking about maybe having a mural painted on the baby’s wall."

"Well, if you want a picture with a bunch of cows in a pasture, then he’s your guy."

"He paints mostly outdoor scenes with animals? Does he paint on location, or does he use photographs?"

"If you want to see an example of his work you just need to go over to Cattleman’s Call. He painted a mural for that Carello guy. I really thought when he started the job at the steakhouse, things would pick up for us. Maybe his idea of being a painter wasn't so crazy. But no, my ex-husband messes it all up again, ending his chance at any future employment."

"What?"

"He puts his freakin’ smiley face right there in the corner of the painting. Just ridiculous. Mr. Carello was so angry. He told him to go back and paint over it. Connor wouldn’t and said it was his artistic license. Hell, he even painted one on the back of my car. You can bet I scratched that sucker off. He said that smiley face was his unique signature. That explanation works if you’re a sixth grade girl."

"Did he paint over it?"

"Eventually. I made him. We had rent to pay."

"Would you mind telling me your address? I’m just finishing up the nursery and I’d like to talk with your ex-husband."

"No problem at all." She pulled out her order pad and started scribbling down an address. She ripped it off with a flourish.

"There you go. I hope you hire him. He needs the money."

I was already starting to get some cravings and felt the baby moving. I rested my hand on my offspring for just a moment.

"Do you want me to get you some pie?"

"It’s a little early for it," I admitted, not wanting to tell her I left the house without breakfast. The baby shifted again.

"Are you getting kicked?" The woman across the table from me looked fondly at my belly. "I wish it were me. I would love to be having a baby right now."

The irony was, I would love
not
to be having a baby right now. I couldn't wait to see my new baby, but I couldn't wait to see my old waistline. I dreamed of wearing something as simple as a belt. 

"Yes it's a wonderful time. Leo and I are very excited."

"Oh, yeah." Sasha snapped her fingers and pointed at me. "I forgot Leo Fitzpatrick is your husband. You are one lucky girl. I loved it when he did the weather on NUTV every day. I almost never missed the five day forecast." She smiled and gazed up in the air as if having a brief fantasy about my husband. I stopped her imagining cold.

"I know about Baxter Digby." She jerked out of her dream as her face registered shock. I shouldn’t have blurted it out, but I just couldn’t help myself when she started thinking about another married man. My married man. She had been so kind to me just a minute before. Now she looked as if she wanted to shoot me, or at least give me the wrong kind of pie.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Of course, she would deny it. How could she let it out she was sleeping with a married city council candidate and still come off as the victim of a crazy ex-husband?