Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas) (9 page)

“
Sus scrofa domestica
. Pig.”

He laughed, and his blue eyes twinkled at her. “I don’t think my neighbors would approve of a pig living in my backyard.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Definitely not. Very aromatic.”

Silence fell between them. He stared down at his shoes. She studied his waves of dark hair and wondered how they would feel between her fingers. What would be the harm in giving a little advice? Jamey Brenner would never hurt her. Would he?

“I might know a little about dogs. Papa has a bunch of them, and I volunteer at the animal shelter. What’s your question?”

He tipped his head up and met her eyes. “I just wondered what k-k-kind would be best. My house isn’t very big. Just a bungalow like Dinah’s. I drive around a lot during the day, to construction sites mostly, so I wouldn’t mind a d-d-dog to ride shotgun with me.”

This was getting too personal. She tried to pull back. “I really can’t help you. I’m not familiar with the different breeds—”

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean a fancy dog. Rafe said you volunteer at the Francisco shelter. I thought maybe you could help me choose a mutt, or I guess you’d say mixed breed now.” He blushed. “Sorry.”

“Well, we have a lot of wonderful dogs. I think quite a few would fit your needs. We’re open seven days a week, nine to nine.”

“What should I look for?”

She tilted her head and studied his face. It was a masculine face—prominent forehead, dark brows, strong chin. But smile lines creased the corners of his mouth, and his eyes glittered with good humor. It was a trustworthy face. “You’d want one with a gentle nature if you take it out in public a lot. But unless you are going to exercise it, you don’t want it too big. Setters and labs, even the mixes, tend to be good with people, but they do need to run.”

“I jog sometimes in the evening.”

“Okay then.”

“So will you help me choose?”

The old terror squeezed her. “I really can’t—”

He must have sensed her fear. “B-b-bring Dinah along if you want.”

She hated feeling vulnerable, especially with a man she barely knew. But when she raised her eyes to his face, he looked as nervous as she was.

“I’ll think about it.” That was as far as she could go, but it was a victory of sorts for her. She hadn’t broken down or scrambled for her truck. All things she’d done in the past. “Gotta get back to the hacienda.” She fast-walked to the truck.

Chapter Thirteen

After Esme left, Jamey knocked on the screen door. He held out his cell. “Rafe wants to talk to you.”

“Hey, Dinah.”

“Hi.”

“Look, I just got a call from the station. One of the officers is under the weather so I have to take the graveyard shift tonight, and I got the afternoon patrol tomorrow.”

“Maybe another time.” It was probably for the best. She’d been looking forward to seeing him, and that was not a good thing.

“But I will be coming by for my reading the day after tomorrow, first thing, and then we’re getting your phone turned on.”

She grasped at the few shreds of pride she still possessed. “You are being bossy.”

“Don’t fight me on this, Dinah. You will have a working phone after tomorrow, which you will keep with you at all times. Or at least until we catch the guy who killed Teke.”

She met Jamey’s eyes. They looked thoughtful. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said to Rafe. “Bye.”

After Jamey took off, Dinah cleaned up the kitchen then went outside to wait for Hollyn to return. She plunked herself down on the front steps and gazed at the midsummer night sky bright with clumps of stars and a half-moon. As the lights began to come on in houses up and down the street, she found Venus and the Milky Way.

It was coming on nine o’clock, and Hollyn still wasn’t back. What if she had the baby at a stranger’s house? A mosquito landed on her arm, and she slapped at it. Another tickled her calf. Jumping up, she shooed it away.

She was wound up. Not about Hollyn. That child could take care of herself if push came to shove. No, it was Rafe who was rattling around in her head, damn him. His voice, his eyes, his sexy lips, his hunky body, his dimples. His parts kept popping up in her head faster than she could squash them, like the mosquitoes hovering around her in the heavy air.

She left thoughts of Rafe on the dark porch and began to walk, meandering down the sidewalk and staring through windows at people watching television or hunched over computers. It relaxed her to see people going about their lives. She passed Gerry’s house. Lights blazed from every window. On the second floor, the shadow of a shapely—young?—woman passed in front of a drawn shade. A housekeeper? Gerry had been alone since his wife and daughter walked out on him after the robbery, but he was certainly in no condition to be carrying on with anyone. Hell, she was surprised he could climb the stairs to the second floor.

Dinah kept going, relieved to leave the Sutton house behind her. Ahead, the lights of the town smoldered above roofs and trees. The steeple and gold cross atop St. Antonio’s Church rose through the dusty glow. She turned a corner and headed back. A drunken cowpoke might take it the wrong way if she wandered into town alone at night. She passed by Lonnie’s overgrown yard, bracing herself for Daisy who greeted her loudly every time she passed. A pale light shown through the underbrush, but the house was quiet except for the soft rumble of a motor.
Must be nice to have air conditioning.
She slapped at another mosquito and hurried home.

…

Dinah bolted up in bed. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, and her lungs struggled to pull in air. She scanned the room, searching for whatever—or whoever—had awakened her. But there was only the stillness that seemed to come in the dead of night. Stars spilled soft light through her window casting unnatural shadows against the walls. Beside her, the alarm clock flashed one thirty-four. Nothing moved. Not that it mattered. She’d have felt it if another human being was in the room with her.

Still, something was wrong. It nibbled at the edges of her consciousness, vague and unformed. Maybe Hollyn had called her. Dinah climbed out of bed and padded down the hall to check on the girl. She’d come in around ten, apologetic and chattering on about what a great time she had, but her face had been flushed and her skin felt clammy when Dinah touched her arm to help her up the porch steps. Worried about mother and baby, Dinah had sent her to bed.

Dinah pushed Hollyn’s bedroom door open a crack and peered in. The pale sheets draped over Hollyn’s body rose and fell rhythmically. Dinah listened for a few moments, but the girl didn’t stir.

She stood in the narrow hallway, straining to catch any suspicious sounds in the house or the neighborhood sleeping beyond the open windows. But even the crickets and the dogs had gone to sleep, and only an occasional passing truck out on the highway broke the silence.

Dinah crept back to her room and lay down again, but she couldn’t sleep. Whatever had awoken her—forgotten dream or vague apprehension—lingered in her head. She played back yesterday, rolling through what she’d done and who she’d talked to, starting at breakfast. But it had been a good day. Hollyn had helped her trim the bushes along the house. Esme had visited, and Jamey had come to check on the roof. There was Rafe’s kiss…but that was bothering her a lot less than it should. No, it wasn’t about Rafe. It wasn’t about any of them.

“Ouch.” She scratched her ankle, and a welt rose. “Fricking mosquitoes.”

Ignoring the tiny throb, she rolled over and closed her eyes. They popped open again. Panic squeezed at her chest.
Get up. Hurry.
A memory drifted through her like a puff of smoke and disappeared before she could grab it.

Her shorts were draped over the end of her bed. She pulled them on and went to the window. The street was quiet, and the neighboring houses were dark. In the glow of the streetlights, the grass and bushes were still, waiting for dawn.

She grabbed her flip-flops off the floor and padded downstairs. The rooms were just as she’d left them. Grabbing the little canister of pepper spray from her backpack, she slipped out the front door and retraced her steps from earlier. The tree branches cast intricate patterns on the sidewalk and crisscrossed her arms and feet like spider webs. She tightened her grip on the pepper spray. At the darkened Sutton house, she stopped and studied the windows. The shade was up in the second-story room where the woman had been, but nothing else seemed different.

She was freaking crazy. No, make that plain, old-fashioned dumb. It must be the tarot card readings. She was beginning to believe her own hype. When she got back to L.A., she was going to get herself another career. She turned back, then stopped.

The worry still itched at her. Why not finish the circuit she’d taken earlier. It was only one extra block. Then she’d go straight home and fix herself some warm milk.

Turning the corner, she closed in on Lonnie’s overgrown jungle, softening her steps so her flip-flops wouldn’t crack against her heels. That dog of his would wake up the neighborhood if it heard her. Her feet slowed.

The dog.

That was what was bothering her. It hadn’t barked. She’d been sort of expecting it because Lonnie said it was a barker. But then she’d started feeling sorry for herself because old Lonnie could afford to run his air conditioner, and she couldn’t.

She began to run.

At Lonnie’s house, she pushed open the gate and batted away the tangled brush. “Here, doggie.” Silence. She patted her hands softly and whispered again. “Here, doggie, doggie.” A sudden breeze ruffled the leaves over her head. The air conditioner sputtered.

“Oh, God! Oh, no!” Her nibbling worry exploded into heart-clenching horror. The motor she’d heard earlier—and now—wasn’t an air conditioner. It was a car.

Dinah raced around the side of the house. Near the back fence, a dark rectangle of a garage loomed, barely visible under a canopy of vines and brush. A car sputtered inside.

“Mr. Lonnie?” She raced toward the garage. “Mr. Lonnie? Can you hear me?” She screamed his name over and over as she fumbled for the handle and heaved the garage door up. It rattled and squeaked along rusty metal tracks before revealing an old Buick with a sagging bumper. The sickening odor of car fumes hit her full on, and she coughed and staggered backward. She lifted up the hem of her shirt, pressed it against her nose and tried to make another attempt to get to Lonnie. But it was no use. The fumes were overwhelming.

“Help! Help!”

Next door, a light went on upstairs. A bare-chested man with rumpled hair pushed up the window. “What the hell is going on down there?”

“Call the police.” A fit of coughing seized Dinah, and she doubled over, her lungs burning. When she could breathe again, she looked up at the window. The man had disappeared.

In the distance, a siren began to wail. Red and blue lights pierced the night sky, then a set of headlights bounced into the driveway. A police car roared toward her and squealed to a stop. The car door swung opened, and Rafe jumped out. He looked as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?”

Chapter Fourteen

“We’re all done, Morales.” The men from the coroner’s office slammed the truck doors.

“When will we see results?” The coroner’s preliminary finding was suicide, but with the murder of Teke Cruz, his old friend’s sudden death warranted a closer look.

“Should be a week or so. We’ll call you.” The men climbed into the truck, and it glided away leaving Lonnie’s driveway in the pearly light of dawn. The headlights of Rafe’s cruiser, pointing at the garage, illuminated the narrow rectangle of greasy cement where Lonnie’s car had been parked. Earlier, a police tow hauled the old Buick away as evidence.

From the back seat of his cruiser, Dinah’s wide eyes gazed at him. Her legs had gotten wobbly while the coroner secured the body and determined the time of death, so Rafe had helped her to the car so she could sit.

He approached the car and leaned in. “How are you doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“What happened? Why were you here?” He tried to be gentle, but his words hung between them like an accusation.

She turned her face away from him. “I can’t talk about it.”

A finger of suspicion brushed the nape of his neck. Sure she was hot, and he was definitely attracted, but what did he really know about her? All that crap she’d been shoveling at him about coming back to bury her father could be a flat-out lie. And what about Hollyn? She was a strange one, just showing up like that, clearly afraid of the law, and Dinah took her right in. No questions asked.

“I need some answers, Dinah.”

She didn’t move.

“You can talk to me now, or if you prefer, we can go down to the station. It’s up to you.”

Her eyes, red-rimmed, flashed with anger. “I don’t have any answers, Rafe. Do you think I killed Lonnie? Maybe I snuck over to the park and did Teke in, too. Is that what you think?”

“I don’t
think
anything. I’m asking.” He tried to meet her eyes, but he couldn’t. It was more or less what he was thinking, and she was a goddamn mind reader.

“Don’t go pissing on my boots and tell me it’s raining, Rafe. You can’t even look at me.”

“Okay,” he said, “have it your way. You show up in the middle of the night at what is quite possibly a murder, and I want to know why. You have a strong motive to do Lonnie harm. Teke, too. But since you want to get on your high horse about it all, we’ll go on down to the station, and you can answer questions there.”

Her face crumbled.

He felt like the biggest asshole in the state of Texas.

“Hey there, Rafe. Need an assist?” Through the faint light of early dawn, Swope emerged, swaggering down the driveway, thumbs hitched into his gun belt. He reminded Rafe of a gunslinger at a showdown. Swope hadn’t lost his perfect sense of timing.

“Got it all under control, Swope. The body’s been transported to the morgue for an autopsy, and the car’s in the pound. Everything’s quiet. I can handle the follow-up.”

Swope drew close to Rafe’s patrol car and peered inside. “What do we have here? That you, Miss Dinah?”

Rafe put himself between Dinah and Swope and slammed the car door. “I said I can handle this.”

Swope’s pale eyes narrowed. A wispy, cloud-shaped bruise floated beneath his pale lashes where Rafe’s fist had connected with his face. Swope’s heavy lips widened into a grin, revealing those ugly teeth that looked faintly like a row of buttercups.

“You sweet on the gal, Morales? Cause if you are, you’ll get a reprimand or maybe kicked off the force for staying on this case.”

“Why don’t you get back in your car and go on about your business.” Rafe pulled his shoulder back and tightened his hand into a fist, praying the threat of a punch would be enough to send Swope on his way. They’d both be reprimanded if a fight broke out, and Swope would no doubt report Rafe’s shaky gun hand to save his own scrawny neck.

Swope lifted his hands to ward off Rafe. “I’m going. But mind what I said. Interrogating your own honey pot could get you thrown off the force.”

“Careful, Swope.”

“Just reminding you of the rules.”

“Then you know interrogations must be conducted at the station with witnesses.”

“What is this, then?”

“I’m taking a statement. Standard procedure.”

Swope backed up a few steps. “I’m watching you, Morales. Real close.” He began to walk away. “Someday, I’m going to take you down, and I plan to enjoy every minute of it.”

When Swope’s car finally pulled away, Rafe opened the car door and hunkered down beside Dinah. “I didn’t mean to come on so strong. If you could give me a statement, we can call it a night. What do you say?”

She nodded, her mouth tightening into a solemn line. “That’s the problem. I just sort of woke up and felt like something was wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“I know it sounds strange, but a worrying kind of thing wouldn’t let me be. I checked the house and peeked in Hollyn’s bedroom, but everything seemed fine.”

“Why did you come here? To Lonnie’s?”

“I-I didn’t. Not exactly, anyway. But the feeling wouldn’t go away.”

“Feeling?”

“Something was wrong…or something was waiting for me.” He must have looked skeptical. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Go on, then,” he said. Swope would be howling with laughter if he got a hold of her statement.

“Last night I took a walk before bed, and I thought maybe it was something I’d seen on my walk but not paid attention to. You know, sort of a subliminal thing. So I traced my steps.”

“And ended up here?”

“That’s when I realized what was bothering me. Lonnie’s dog hadn’t barked. When I pass by, she always runs to the fence and barks at me until I pet her, but last night she didn’t. That’s what woke me up.”

His body relaxed. “You’re not crazy. It happens all the time. People witness a crime or evidence of a crime but don’t realize it.”

“So you don’t think I’m a nut job?” She tried to smile at him but yawned instead.

“No.” He stood. “I’ll need to go over everything you saw last night.”

She yawned again. “I can barely think straight. Maybe I’d be more helpful if I laid down for a bit.”

Night was ebbing before the sun’s first light. He studied Lonnie’s dark, silent house.
Where’s the dog?
“Can you wait in the car for a few more minutes while I check around Lonnie’s house real quick? Maybe the dog is inside. Then I’ll drive you home.”

Dinah bolted upright in the car seat. “I’m coming, too.”

“Look, Dinah, I don’t—”

“I’m not sitting out here by myself. Besides”—She lifted her hip and pulled a lipstick-sized canister of pepper spray out of pocket—“if there’s trouble, I can handle it.”

It wasn’t police procedure to let a suspect help you investigate a crime scene, but when a sweet smile spread across her lips, and she graced him with a perky wink, it was impossible for Rafe to believe she’d wrestled a man into a car and asphyxiated him.

“Stay behind me and don’t touch anything.” He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.

Lonnie’s kitchen door swung open with a light push of Rafe’s hand. Night lingered inside the house. He groped for a light switch, but another hand beat him to it.

“What did I tell you about touching things?”

“Sorry. Wow. Lonnie must have been getting himself ready for World War Three.”

“And Four.” A dozen canisters of dog food were stacked against the grease-stained kitchen walls. Two freezers nearly blocked the opening to the next room. They hummed efficiently, and when he opened one, stacks of neatly labeled steaks, roasts, chicken and hamburger were inside. Above the freezers, cartons of paper towels were piled to the ceiling.

“Lots of dog food,” said Dinah.

But where was the dog’s bowl and water? Most people kept those in the kitchen.

A card table and three folding chairs formed an island amidst the provisions. A scrap of blanket beneath the card table still held the imprint of a dog. On the table a mug of tea, filled to the brim, was set on a neatly folded square of paper towel. Another napkin, bearing the outline of a second mug, sat beside it. He lifted a mug and sniffed at it.

“What is it?” asked Dinah.

“Tea.”

“Lonnie must have had a guest.”

“Seems like a mug is missing.”

“There are dishes in the sink. Maybe he washed up the other one.”

A bowl with cereal clinging to the sides rested in the sink. Beside it sat a dirty frying pan and a plate with congealed meat juices. Dinah squealed and grabbed Rafe’s arm as a cockroach skittered across the plate. Her breasts pressed against his bicep, and his body tightened with pleasure.
Would she be up for a fling?
Just to get it out of his system. Maybe hers, too.

He cleared his throat, and she released his arm.

“Sorry about that. I have this thing about cockroaches.” She shuddered.

“Yeah.” The word came out raspy sounding. He forced himself to concentrate. “Lots of dirty dishes, but no mug.”

A rusty pan rested on a narrow gas oven. The paper tags of two tea bags hung over the side. Dinah’s finger brushed one of the tags.

“Don’t touch.”

“Right. I keep forgetting.” She leaned over the pan. “Hollyn uses this brand for sweet tea. It has a hint of orange.” She breathed in and wrinkled her nose. “Smells like Lonnie was cooking something garlicky before he brewed the tea. Maybe his guest dumped the tea out.”

“Maybe Lonnie finished his in the living room after his company left.”

“Maybe.”

Rafe squeezed past the freezer and pushed into the living room. A single easy chair and a dog bed faced the newspaper-covered front window. The front door was secured with four thick bolts. Between the door and the window, was a big-screen TV.

Behind the chair, a gun rack holding a dozen rifles and handguns was mounted on the wall. Open boxes of shells sat on a large generator, still in its box.

“Mr. Lonnie surely was going nuts.” Dinah followed his gaze. “Looks like he was expecting the Apocalypse to rise up in El Royo.”

Or more likely, he was just afraid. But Rafe didn’t say that.

Behind a wall of canned vegetables, a door rattled and a high-pitched whimper broke the silence. He pushed Dinah back. “Go in the kitchen.”

She evaded his arm. “Really, Rafe? It’s probably Daisy. Isn’t that why we’re here?”

“That’s why I’m here. You’re here because you won’t stay put.”

“It’s just a dog. A
friendly
dog.”

He sighed. She was probably right, but rules were rules as Swope had pointed out, and he’d already broken a slew of them this morning. “Police. Come out with your hands up.”

Behind his shoulder, Dinah snorted.

“Stay by the wall,” he whispered, pushing her flat against the cracked plasterboard. He pulled out his flashlight and cautiously moved forward. Keeping as close to the wall as possible, he peered around the cans. A folding chair had been jammed under the knob of a rattling door.

“Police. Identify yourself.”

Another whimper.

Rafe kicked away the chair and ripped open the closet door. Inside, Lonnie’s greyhound lay hog-tied, a bandana wrapped around its snout. Its dark eyes pleaded with Rafe.

“Oh, Daisy!” Dinah rushed past him and fell to her knees. “She’s probably been in the closet since last evening, poor thing. Hurry, help me get her untied.”

“What the hell are you doing?” He lifted her to her feet. “I told you not to touch anything.”

“But the dog—”

“The dog is tied up with possible evidence that might have fingerprints on it. Besides, we should wait for Animal Control. She might be crazy with fear or maybe injured.”

“Come on, Rafe. It’s barely six o’clock in the morning. It will take at least an hour to rouse someone out of bed and get them down here. We can’t leave her all tied up. Look at those eyes.”

She was right. “Okay. But you are going to stand on the other side of these cans, and if the dog starts to growl, you are going to run like hell. Are we clear?”

She saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

His loins stirred. He’d bet she liked games in the bedroom.

He hunkered down beside the dog. “Hey, girl. Let’s get you out of this closet.”

Dinah spoke from her lookout. “Untie the snout first.”

Good idea.

“Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m going to help you.” He talked softly to the animal, gently rubbing its back as he reached for the bandana. He pulled it off the dog’s snout and jumped back. The dog began to pant and cry.

Dinah appeared at his side and stooped down. “See? I knew she wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Didn’t want to take any chances. Hate to lose a bite of you, Miss Dinah.” He met her eyes.

Her lips curled into a sleepy half-smile. “I believe we’ve got a dog to rescue, Officer.”

True enough. And an investigation to complete. After that…who knew? But he was definitely going to give her a try.

He patted Daisy’s soft head. “It’s okay. We’re going to get you out of here.”

The dog licked his arm as he untied the rope. It was thick and new. Must have been bought just for this occasion. As she felt the rope loosen, Daisy began to wriggle around. Rafe undid the last knot, and she sprang up, barking and leaping for joy. She landed on top of Dinah, who fell back, giggling.

“Stop, girl.” Daisy lapped at Dinah’s face.

Rafe sealed the rope and bandana in evidence bags and straightened up. “Sit.” He used his no-nonsense voice. The dog rolled off Dinah and sat.

Dinah righted herself and peered up at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Civilians. He should never have let her come into the house. “This is an investigation. You’re disturbing the scene.”

Dinah stood. “We rescued the dog. What else is there to find?”

Rafe peered down a short, narrow hallway. “If a paranoid and probably
loco
man was going to commit suicide, where would he put the note so it would be found?”

“Next to his body?”

“Not there.”

“Well, it’s not on the kitchen table or in the, uh, living room. That pretty much narrows it down to the bedroom.” He leaned over and scratched the dog’s neck. “Where did your master sleep, girl?”

The dog yipped and squeezed past him. At the end of the hall, she turned back and barked once, then disappeared. Rafe followed, rounding a mountain of boxes with Marlboro emblazoned on them, and discovered Lonnie’s rumpled bed.