Thoroughly 03 - Who Invited the Dead Man? (20 page)

Read Thoroughly 03 - Who Invited the Dead Man? Online

Authors: Patricia Sprinkle

BOOK: Thoroughly 03 - Who Invited the Dead Man?
8.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“Where did she end up yesterday?”
She shook her head. “We don’t rightly know. Otis drove up and down every street in town lookin’ for her, thinkin’ she couldn’t have got far. But we didn’t know when she left, see. And the way that chair can go, she could have gone clean out to your place.”
Fear clutched my heart, but I forced myself to stay practical. “Not down the gravel road.”
“Oh, she could make the chair go on that road, all right, as good as you keep it. I’m not saying she didn’t, either. Her chair was pretty dusty when she got back.”
I had to pull out a chair and sit down. “Where and when did you find her?”
“We didn’t. Sometime past nine-thirty she showed up back here at the house, on her own. Otis had been out combin’ those streets for nigh on two hours, checkin’ by here every now and then. I was gettin’ real worried, because she was past time for her shot. He came back to report to me that he couldn’t find her, and there sat Miss Winifred pert as anything, right here in her own backyard like she hadn’t ever left the place. Her face was red and hot, and she was sweatin’ some, but she wouldn’t say a word about where she’d been or what she’d done. Said ’twas none of our business.” She twisted her mouth in what passed for her smile. “She said maybe she’d been courtin’.”
“This could be very serious, Lottie. Otis told you we took all the guns out of the house, didn’t he? But there was one missing.”
“That little bitty one? I think Miss Gusta’s still got it.”
“Gusta said she
might
have it.” I sighed. “Which means she might have given it back to Pooh. I want you to search this house again, as carefully as you know how—the downstairs, at least. Hiram Blaine was shot yesterday morning early down at our place, with a little gun.”
Lottie pressed a thin hand to her equally thin chest. “Miss Winifred never!”
“I hope not, but he’d been deviling Pooh earlier in the week, and if you think she could navigate our road, we need to be absolutely sure. You look for that gun, all right?”
“I’ll look,” Lottie agreed. “I haven’t seen that little gun around here for some time, but if Miss Winifred wanted to keep it from me, she’s got her ways.”
“Let me know if you find out anything,” I said as I left her.
I went back into the Cozy and sat down on the love seat before I remembered I’d passed up my chance to visit the powder room. Pooh looked up and offered, “Would you like another cookie, dear?”
“No, I don’t want any more cookies. But I want to know where you were yesterday morning. Lottie says you went out for awhile all by yourself.”
Her eyes slid from one side to the other, then she looked down as if fascinated by her enormous engagement diamond. “I went out to get fresh air.”
“But why didn’t Otis see you? He drove up and down all the streets.”
She giggled like a little girl. “I hid. I watched very carefully, and when I saw him, I pulled behind a bush. He passed me several times, but he never knew I was there.”
Poor Otis. Poor all of us, if this got any worse. But I simply had to know where she had been. “He said maybe you’d been down to my house. I was over at Phyllis’s getting my hair fixed. Did I miss you?”
Her lips closed up as tight as a drawstring bag. “I’m not going to tell you, so you needn’t ask.” Pooh waved me away. “Can I have Lottie bring you some more tea?” A doubtful expression began to gather on her face. I could tell she wasn’t quite sure now how long I’d been there or how much tea I’d had. In another second her eyes took on the blank look we had all come to know and dread.
As I left, she leaned forward and gave me her hand. “Thank you so much for coming.” She might not be real sure at that moment who I was or why I was there, but courtesy would be the last part of Pooh’s mind to go.
16
I’d been gone so long, I stopped by the store just long enough to get Joe Riddley a new hat, then went back to Ridd and Martha’s. “Wanna see something cute?” Ridd greeted me with a finger to his lips.
We tiptoed to Cricket’s room. Joe Riddley lay on the bed in white shirt, gray pants, and black socks, snoring. Cricket lay beside him in gray pants, white shirt, and red socks, gently patting his chest. A beagle pup slept on the floor, curled beside two pairs of black Sunday shoes.
Cricket sensed our presence, looked around, and put one finger to his own lips. “Shhh,” he warned. We smiled and backed out.
I heard Cricket slide to the floor and pad after us. “I put Pop down for his nap.”
“That’s wonderful, honey. I wish you’d put Me-mama down for one, too.”
“Want to run on home?” Martha offered. “Ridd can bring Pop when he wakes up.”
“I’ll follow you,” Ridd informed me. “I want to have a look around for the missing you-know-what while Daddy’s not there.”
“I doesn’t know what,” Cricket said. “What?”
I don’t believe in keeping secrets from children unless absolutely necessary. They are so apt to get things garbled. “We’re missing one of Pop’s guns, honey.”
“De deer wifle? Or de shotgun? Or is it de twenty-two wifle he got when he was ten?”
The grownups stared in surprise. “How do you know so much, Little Britches?” Ridd ruffled his son’s soft brown hair.
Cricket shrugged. “Pop tole me. I know of all de guns.” His chest stuck out with pride.
“Do you know which one goes where in the case?” I asked, hardly daring to hope.
“O’ course. Dey all has special places.”
“Do you think he does?” Martha gave Ridd a worried frown. They didn’t approve of guns.
Ridd’s shrug was very like his son’s. “Only one way to find out. Let’s go for a ride, Little Britches. We’re gonna follow Me-mama home and you can tell her what you know about the guns. Okay?”
“Okay.” Cricket headed happily for the door.
“Get your shoes,” Martha reminded him.
Buster and his men were gone and had taken the crime tape from the dining room door. They’d left a legacy of fingerprint dust Clarinda was going to love, and the barbeque and potato salad on the table were as pungent as I’d predicted. What repelled me most was the memory of Hiram. It would be a while before I served a meal in there again.
At least they’d taken my junk mail as evidence.
When we stood in front of the gun case, Cricket shook his head in disbelief. “Somebody stole
all
Pop’s guns! He’s gonna be
so mad. . . .
” He pursed his lips and shook his head, speechless for once.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “No, honey, Me-mama sent them away while Pop is sick. I don’t want him getting into the guns and hurting himself.”
He nodded wisely. “Guns is berry dangerous if you doesn’t use good sense. And sometimes Pop doesn’t
have
good sense right now. He’s berry sick.”
Ridd and I exchanged smiles over his head. Mine was full of gratitude that they’d made things so blessedly clear and un-frightening to that little boy.
“Do you really remember which gun used to go where?” Ridd asked dubiously.
“Sure.” Cricket’s small forefinger pressed the bottom of the glass. “Dis one was de deer wifle. Pop will take me huntin’ when I’m big enough. And dat”—he moved his finger up a notch—“was de wifle Pop got when he was ten, from his daddy.” His eyes slid sideways to me, a sure sign he was talking to Ridd as well. “My daddy doesn’t gib me guns, ’cause he doesn’t like dem. But Pop will gib me one when I gets ten.”
“Oh.” I didn’t dare say more than that. I pressed my own finger up at the top of the case. “I’ll bet you don’t know which one went way up here.”
Cricket flung back his head and gurgled at my silliness. “Co’se I do. Dat was de derringer twenty-two.” He looked up to explain to his daddy, “Twenty-two means it’s got a little hole.” Then he looked seriously back at me. “It’s silber and berry old, and it looks like a toy, but it’s
not.
” He shook his head solemnly. “Boys must not touch guns, eben if dey looks like toys. I can’t touch
any
guns ’til Pop says I’m old ’nough, or he’ll gib me a
hidin’
!” His gave his head one short nod. Ridd and I both burst out laughing. Cricket looks like Martha, but that minute he was the spitting image of his granddaddy.
“It’s not funny,” Cricket warned, fist propped on hip. “Guns is serious bidness. Pop says so. Pop says nebber touch a gun wifout him standing right dere and saying ‘okay.’ ”
I knew Ridd was seething inside at how much his father had taught his son. I hoped he also appreciated how very much Cricket had absorbed about safety. Joe Riddley had been very thorough in that respect.
Ridd suggested, “Why don’t you two go get Lulu out of the pen and play with her a little bit? I’ve got one more thing to do before we leave.”
Cricket ran happily toward the kitchen. “I’ll search for the gun, if you’ll keep him outside a few minutes,” Ridd promised.
“The police have already looked, but go ahead.”
I went out to help Cricket let Lulu out. They greeted one another with mutual raptures and neither paid a speck of attention when I said, “I’m going to run inside and get my slippers. My feet hurt.” I headed toward the kitchen closet, where I kept yard clothes, coats, boots, and house slippers. When I got the door unlocked, I kicked off my shoes faster than a fat goose sheds water. My freed toes wiggled for joy, but only found one slipper when they fumbled on the closet floor. I bent over to have a better look and saw the mate hiding in the far back.
As I reached for it, I knocked over one of Joe Riddley’s cowboy boots, the old ones he wore to mow the lawn. They’d been standing unused so long they were gray with dust.
I picked up one dust-fuzzy boot and held it to my cheek, wondering if he’d ever need it again. Then, angry at myself for being silly, I shoved it to the back of the closet. “There’s no point in you taking up space near the front when he’s not using you.” When I picked up the second, it was heavier than the first. Puzzled, I shook the boot into the empty wastebasket, in case it harbored a mouse. What fell out was a small silver gun.
A wave of terror took away my breath. Only two people in the world knew where Joe Riddley kept the key to his gun case. Before Ridd even began to crawl, Joe Riddley came in one day with a scruffy old book. “Look, Little Bit. What I’ve been wanting.”
I examined the title. “
History of the Etruscans
? You’re pretty desperate for reading matter, aren’t you?”
“Look!” He opened the cover and showed me hollow pages, glued to make a box for hiding things. He took the key to his gun case from his desk drawer and dropped it into the box with a satisfying clunk. “Now nobody will open that case by accident.” He put the book up high on his shelf, along with others that were read as seldom as they were dusted. “Let’s make a pact, honey. Don’t ever tell or show anybody where that key is. That’s the only way I’ll ever have peace of mind.”
Peace of mind. As I knelt before my wastebasket, those three words bounced around in my suddenly empty brain. “Oh, honey,” I whispered. Only Joe Riddley could have opened that gun case. And I could think of only one reason why he’d take out a gun and later hide it. Joe Riddley was, as I have said, in some ways a little like Cricket just then. He probably thought if he hid the gun, nobody would ever know what he’d done.
I should have called Ridd, but I couldn’t. I wanted to pull that gun out, wipe it so shiny clean nobody would ever know it had been handled since the day it was made, and dump it in Hubert’s cattle pond. However, being an officer of the law has certain disadvantages. I knew better than to tamper with evidence. Still, Buster wasn’t going to get this evidence quite yet—not until I’d had time to think.
Hearing Ridd moving toward the kitchen, I carefully lifted the gun with a fork and dropped it back in the boot. Then I re-locked the closet and hurried out to our backyard swing. When Ridd arrived I was watching Cricket chase Lulu around the birdbath.
Ridd settled his long frame onto the other side of the swing. “I looked in the study and Daddy’s room. Even looked in the bathroom. But I could tell the police searched already.” He pushed the swing to move it gently. In the maple overhead a mockingbird sang, then flew into the sky. “Have you and Daddy ever thought about moving out of this isolated place?” There it was again, that casual tone that meant he and Martha had talked about it already.
“Not recently. Our minds have been rather otherwise occupied.”
“This place is a lot of work. Why don’t you look for a smaller house closer to town?”
Cricket shouted from the birdbath. “If you moves, Me-mama, I can come live here.”
Ridd gave a grunt of embarrassment.
“Little jugs have big ears,” I reminded him, rubbing his own closest ear. “He takes after somebody we both know and love.”
“Hello! Hello!” A squawk from the barn reminded me of somebody I certainly didn’t love. Lulu scampered toward the door, barking furiously. Cricket hared right behind.
Ridd stopped the swing. “What on earth?”
I pulled myself to my feet. “Come meet our guest.”

Other books

The Fabulous Riverboat by Philip Jose Farmer
The Jack's Story (BRIGAND Book 2) by Natalie French, Scot Bayless
Oswald's Tale by Norman Mailer
Calculated Revenge by Jill Elizabeth Nelson
To Die For by Kathy Braidhill
Paris After Dark by Summers, Jordan
Hellblazer 1 - War Lord by John Shirley
Yesterday's Shadow by Jon Cleary