Goody Goody Gunshots Page 4

  Karen left for lunch about the time I began snipping the thick rope of molasses candy into bite-sized pieces. I’d just finished wrapping the last piece in Divinity’s distinctive gold-edged candy wrappers when she returned. By that time, I’d not only made myself tired of thinking, I’d also decided that I had to go back to Hammond Junction and see what I could find in the daylight.

  I probably should have told Karen what I was planning, but I talked myself out of it by reasoning that it was daylight, and I’d have Max with me. Instead, I told her that I was going out to pick up a few supplies; then I tossed my apron over the back of a chair and hustled out of the shop.

  Max was delighted to be let off his chain so early in the day, so I knew he wouldn’t tell on me. Ten minutes later, we drove out of town on Motherlode Street, destination: Hammond Junction.

  For years, the people who lived and worked in this part of the valley had come and gone without getting in each others’ way. Everyone knew where Lloyd Casey was going to turn. Didn’t matter if he was heading out to the pasture to check on his cattle or driving home at the end of the day. He didn’t have to use his turn signal to alert us. And if he had a load of hay on, we all knew to go out around him. We just waited for the quick flash of his hand out his open window to tell us when.

  Everyone knew that Marion Escott slowed to a crawl every time she approached someone’s driveway because, as she was fond of reminding us, you just never knew. But bring in the tourists, who didn’t know where the locals were going, and furthermore, didn’t care, and suddenly the junction became a hazard.

  The junction seemed far less sinister in the clear light of day than it had the night before, but I was still glad I’d brought Max with me. I drove through the light slowly, eyes peeled for flashes of anything unusual. After about a hundred feet, I made a U-turn, doubled back, and repeated the exercise going in the opposite direction. When I decided I’d never see anything from the car, I parked, hooked Max to his leash, and set out on foot.

  I led Max to the intersection and let him sniff around for several minutes, hoping he’d reveal himself to be part blood-hound. He found plenty to interest him—everything from discarded gum wrappers to empty beer bottles—but nothing that looked like it might explain what had happened here the night before.

  We checked the road in all four directions, both sides of the highway, but I still didn’t find anything unusual. Even though a light autumn breeze rustled the leaves of the trees every now and then, sweat beaded on my nose and trickled down my back. The dry scent of dust, dormant through the long, hot summer we’d been through, tickled my nose so that when I wasn’t wiping sweat from my forehead with my sleeve, I was fighting the effects of hay fever.

  While I stomped up and down the road, sneezing and wiping my eyes, three cars inched up to the stoplight, then roared on past. I recognized Marion Escott, now well into her eighties and slower behind the wheel than she’d ever been, and Hank Weatherby, who’d been running cattle in the hills west of the junction for most of my life. The third vehicle—an SUV—was there and gone before I got a good look at it.

  I searched thoroughly for more than an hour, then reluctantly admitted there wasn’t anything to find. I still didn’t know what had happened out there, but at least I knew for sure that I hadn’t left a man bleeding to death. There was some consolation in that, I suppose.

  Chapter 6

  Now that I knew I hadn’t witnessed a shooting, the anger that had been simmering all morning boiled to the surface. I wanted to know what had happened. Exactly. Had the whole thing been a setup?

  After herding Max into the Jetta, I pulled up to the intersection once more and considered my options while I sat there, the only car in sight. It took a few minutes, but I finally registered the fact that if I could see Marion Escott’s redbrick rambler from where I sat, she could see the intersection from there.

  It was a long shot, but I turned right toward Marion’s house anyway. Out here in the country, the shoulders on the highways were narrow to nonexistent, so I pulled into the driveway, taking care not to block her car. I poured water from a bottle into my emergency dog bowl (I keep both in the hatch at all times) and settled Max in the shade of a tree.

  Marion opened the door while I was promising Max that I wouldn’t be gone long and gave me a benevolent smile. “I heard rumors about you and that dog. Guess they were true.”

  She stood around five two, five three at most—a tiny woman who had once seemed much larger to me than she did now. A halo of white hair wreathed her elfin face, and her pale blue eyes gleamed with intelligence.

  “Yeah,” I said with a grin, “the rumors are true. I’ve given up men and gone to the dogs.”

  Chuckling, Marion stepped aside to let me enter. As I passed through to the cool indoors, she fixed me with a solid look that almost pinned me to the wall. “Well, now, Abigail, that’s not the only rumor I hear about you. I have it on good authority that you’ve been seen around town in the company of a certain policeman.”

  Without waiting for me to respond, she led me into the living room, where I discovered that Marion wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t changed since I’d been here last. I swear the same crushed velvet sofa still sat in front of the long bay window, the same rocking chairs flanked the fireplace, the same pictures hung on the walls. Marion waved me toward one of the rocking chairs and settled herself in the other.

  As she set the chair in motion, a bulky shadow moved in the hallway and startled me. A figure stepped into the light, and somehow, in the bulky, whiskered, potbellied man wearing a too-tight T-shirt and holey jeans I recognized Dwayne, Marion’s youngest grandson.

  I hadn’t seen him since he was a kid heading toward puberty, all arms and legs and growing like a weed. I tried not to show my shock at the changes in him, but I’m not sure I succeeded.

  He jerked his head at me, and I jerked mine back. I expected him to disappear once he’d satisfied his social obligations, but to my surprise, he dragged a chair from the kitchen into the hallway and straddled it so he could hear our conversation.

  “So, tell me,” Marion said, the rhythm of her chair uninterrupted, “What’s going on with you and your policeman? Are things getting serious?”

  Jawarski was way down on the list of things I wanted to talk about with Marion, but her expression was filled with such eagerness, I didn’t have the heart to evade the question. “He’s not my policeman,” I said. “And no, things aren’t exactly serious. We’re friends.”

  “Friends.” Marion leaned back in her chair and snorted softly. “Sounds like an excuse to me, girl, but have it your way. Suppose you tell me instead what brings you clear out here in the middle of the day?”

  I tried hard to ignore Dwayne hulking in the hallway and to concentrate on Marion instead. Forcing a laugh, I said, “I take it you don’t want to mess around with small talk?”

  Marion wagged a hand in front of her face. “I’m too old to mess around with conversation that doesn’t mean anything. Now, what can I do for you? I don’t suppose you have any of Divinity’s caramels in the car with you. I’d just about sell my soul for a box of those.”

  I laughed again and shook my head. “Sorry, no.” I thought Dwayne might offer to pick up a box for his grandmother, but he kept his big old mouth shut tight, so I said, “Tell you what. I can bring you a box next time I’m out this way.”

  “Well, don’t go out of your way. I don’t want to be a burden. Now, what’s on your mind?”

  “I’m wondering if you were home last night.”

  “Me?” Marion leaned her head against the back of her rocker. “Well, sure. I’m here most of the time, aren’t I, Dwayne?” She turned her bird head in his direction, and he muttered something that sounded like he agreed with her. Satisfied, Marion turned back to me. “You see? Why do you ask?”

  “I ran into a little trouble at the junction last night,” I said, this time including Dwayne. “I wonder if either of you have noticed anything un
usual out here in the past few days?”

  Marion’s smile faded. Dwayne just looked confused. “What kind of trouble?” he asked.

  “Well, that’s the thing,” I admitted. “I’m really not sure. At first, I thought someone—a man with a limp—had been seriously hurt. Now I’m starting to think it may have been an attempt to hijack my car. Have either of you noticed any strangers hanging around in the past day or two?”

  Dwayne shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. I’ve been staying with Grandma for a couple months now, but I’m not here all that much.”

  Marion gave him a fond smile. “And when he is here, he’s out in that garage, working his fingers to the bone.” She turned back to me and said, “You know me, Abby. I’ve never been one to encourage adult children to live at home. I think there’s far too much of that going on these days. But sometimes, being with family is exactly what’s called for.”

  The change of subject surprised me, and I didn’t know how to respond, so I tried to gently steer us back. “I certainly know about that. That’s why what happened last night concerns me. If it could happen to me, it could happen to anyone—even you.”

  Marion’s brows knit in consternation. “Here in Paradise? What’s going on in the world, anyway?” She slid another sugary glance at her grandson and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “I guess it’s a good thing Dwayne’s here with me, isn’t it? He’s getting a divorce, you know. That wife of his . . .” She rolled her eyes expressively and mouthed, “sleeping around.”

  Afraid she might decide to share details I didn’t want— and Dwayne surely wouldn’t want me to hear—I tried again to steer the conversation back on track. “So, does that mean you haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary?”

  Marion shook her head. “No, but then I wouldn’t, would I? Like I said, Dwayne’s out in the garage most all day long, and I don’t drive at night much since my eyesight took a turn for the worse. I don’t trust myself to see well enough.”

  “That must be frustrating,” I said, “but you were out this morning. I was out at the junction as you were driving home.”

  “Well, I do go out sometimes in the day. I can’t take Dwayne away from his work every time I need a gallon of milk. It’s hard work starting up a new business.”

  Clearly, she wanted me to show an interest in Dwayne and his new enterprise, so I gave up the fight. “So, you’ve started your own business?” I asked, prompting him to do his part.

  He lifted one shoulder as if to say it was no big deal, but the self-satisfied smile that tugged on his mouth told a different story. “I’ve been renovating furniture—secondhand stuff. Stuff people are willing to just throw away. There’s a good market for refurbished goods these days.”

  “That’s terrific,” I said, hoping I sounded enthusiastic enough for Marion. “Considering how messed up the economy has been the past few years, I’ll bet lots of people are eager to pick up quality furniture without having to pay a fortune to get it. I didn’t realize you were a carpenter.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Dwayne mumbled.

  “There you go being too modest again,” Marion scolded gently. “He took classes in carpentry, you know. Years ago, but he’s always had a talent. His grandfather and I used to encourage him to do something with it, but he was more interested in lazing around with those no-good friends of his.”

  Color rushed into Dwayne’s pudgy cheeks. “For God’s sake, Grandma. Do you mind?”

  “Well, what’s wrong with bragging a little? It’s a grandma’s right, especially since you never speak up for yourself.”

  Dwayne might have been a lump, but the misery in his eyes touched something in me. I’d been embarrassed by relatives more than once, and I firmly believe that nobody should have to endure that. “It sounds like you’re doing well,” I said.

  He muttered again, and Marion started her chair moving once more.

  I tried one last time to get us back on track. “So neither of you have seen anything unusual. Have you heard of anyone else running into trouble of any kind? Maybe someone’s mentioned having a near accident or witnessing one?”

  Marion glanced quickly at Dwayne, then shook her head. “I haven’t heard a thing. And if Dwayne had, he would have told me, wouldn’t you Dwayne?” He moved a thumb, which apparently meant yes. “You said you almost ran over some man. Do you know who he was?”

  “No, but I wish I did. He was about five four, and it looked like he had a pretty severe limp. Does that sound familiar?”

  Marion gave that some thought but eventually shook her head. “Paradise isn’t what it used to be. There are strangers around most of the time now, but I don’t remember seeing anyone with a limp. How about you, Dwayne?”

  He wagged his head from side to side. “I haven’t seen any strangers since the end of summer.”

  “My cousin Karen thinks it might have been an attempted carjacking or . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to list the other, much worse possibilities, “. . . or something.”

  Apparently, Dwayne didn’t share my problem. “Or a kidnaping?”

  Marion gasped, and her eyes rounded in horror.

  “It’s possible,” I admitted, wishing for his grandmother’s sake that Dwayne hadn’t been quite so frank. “Although I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kidnap me. It’s not as if my family has money.”

  Dwayne lifted his head and looked straight at me for the first time. “There’s other reasons to snatch somebody besides money, you know.”

  An involuntary shudder raced up my spine. I had no idea what to make of his comment. Was he warning me or just offering an observation? I’d known Dwayne most of my life, but we’d never been friends. He was just a kid who belonged to a casual friend of my mother’s, not someone I knew well.

  I shook off the uneasy feeling and kept a smile on my face, mostly because I didn’t want him to think he’d frightened me. If that’s even what he was trying to do. I wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

  Marion stopped rocking and glared at Dwayne. “That’s a horrible thing to say, Dwayne. What on earth is wrong with you?”

  He shrugged, and a sheepish look crossed his face that made him look all of ten years old. “It was just a thought, Grandma. I didn’t mean anything by it. But you know it’s true. There are all kinds of sick people running around in the world today.”

  “It might be true,” Marion chided, “but that doesn’t mean you have to say it. You probably frightened poor Abby half to death.”

  The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. Here I was trying to protect Marion, and she was worried about protecting me. I smiled and shook my head. “I’m fine, Marion. Trust me, that thought crossed my mind long before Dwayne brought it up.”

  Marion sighed heavily. “What’s wrong with the world these days? I just don’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure anyone does.” I stood, convinced there was nothing more either of them could tell me. “I hope I haven’t frightened you by telling you about this, Marion.”

  “Me?” Marion looked surprised. “I’m not fragile, Abby, and I’m not as old as you think. Would you like me to keep my eyes open, just in case? I haven’t noticed anyone suspicious lurking about yet, but I haven’t been looking, either.”

  I could just imagine what Jawarski would say if I dragged an eighty-year-old woman into the middle of something potentially dangerous, so I shook my head quickly. “No, that’s okay. I probably just overreacted. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

  Marion struggled to her feet, for the first time showing signs that she was growing older. “If you say so, Abby.”

  I tried to duck the wave of guilt that hit me, but I didn’t move quickly enough. I caught Dwayne’s eye as I gave Marion a brief hug and tried to elicit a silent promise that he’d look after her. When I walked out the door a few minutes later, I tried hard to believe that he’d given me what I asked for, but all I’d really gotten from my visit was another person to wor
ry about.

  Chapter 7

  By the time I was on the road and headed back to Divinity, I started to feel guilty about how long I’d left Karen alone at the shop. Deciding not to put off until tomorrow what I could do today, I detoured to the Paradise Post offices and placed a want ad for help with the sales counter at Divinity. Karen seemed pleased when I told her what I’d done, and the mood around Divinity was so relaxed, I spent the rest of the afternoon making lollipops for the upcoming holiday season.

  It didn’t take long for the entire shop to fill with the sweet scents of cooking sugar, cinnamon, wintergreen, piña colada, lemon, lime, and orange. By seven that night, I had row after row of gleaming red, yellow, orange, and green lollipops cooling on the granite countertop in the shape of turkeys, pumpkins, autumn leaves, and acorns. I was in the middle of giving myself an enthusiastic pat on the back for a good day’s work when the phone rang.

  I heard Karen answer. A few seconds later, she looked into the kitchen and said, “It’s for you. Brody wants to know if you’re already on your way.”

  On my way? My good mood faded as I remembered my promise to meet with Coach Hendrix tonight. What kind of aunt makes a promise one night and completely forgets about it by the next? Not a very good one.

  Tossing my apron onto the table, I grabbed my keys and Max’s leash before heading out the door. “Tell him I’m coming now!”

  Thankfully, Max is always excited about the prospect of a ride in the car, so minutes later we were in what passes for traffic in Paradise, heading toward Wyatt’s house. I still couldn’t work up any enthusiasm about the prospect of assistant coaching the team, but with any luck at all, I’d convince the boys to change their minds and let me off the hook.

  In too much of a hurry to feel nervous, I checked for oncoming traffic, realized I was alone on the highway, and gave my brakes little more than a token tap as I shot through the junction. Twenty minutes after leaving Divinity, Max and I parked beside a Jeep Cherokee I assumed belonged to Kerry Hendrix and loped up the front steps. It was a speed trial record, at least for me.