2 On the Nickel (7 page)

Madonna thumped her tail on the
hardwood floor at the familiar sound of Jonette’s voice. The dog crept out from
behind the rocking chair to greet Jonette.

I blinked away my confusion and
turned to greet my friend.

“Am I interrupting?” Jonette
knelt to hug the dog. A sliver of tanned back winked at me as her snug blue top
stayed put and her sunny shorts stretched to accommodate her new position. “I
knocked. When nobody answered, I let myself in.”

“You’re always welcome here, Jonette. You know that.” How much of our conversation had she overheard? I clenched my
hands together at my waist, hoping for the conversation fairy to help me out.

“I’m sorry I’m a few minutes
late,” she said.

“Late?” I blinked some more.

“Don’t tell me you forgot.”

At my blank look, Jonette said, “The
vet appointment. Madonna has a prenatal checkup in ten minutes. Doctor Murphy
at the animal clinic. Ringing any bells now?”

“Oh.” Air leaked rapidly out of
my lungs. Worry about Mama had scrambled my circuits. Maybe I needed a doctor’s
appointment. “I forgot.”

“I’ll grab Madonna’s leash and
wait with her outside while you get your purse.” Jonette petted Madonna again
and made kissing sounds. “Come on, sugar. We’re going for a walk.”

Madonna padded off with Jonette.
I turned to tell Mama we’d finish this later and her rocker was empty. Didn’t
she know that her furtive behavior made her appear guiltier? My hand went to my
mouth. The room spun a little off its axis. I had the sensation of tumbling
through a rabbit hole into another universe.

I wanted to help Mama, to protect
her. How could I cover for her when she wasn’t being honest with me?

* * * * *

Jonette poked me with her elbow. “Do you have any questions, Cleo?”

I shook the wool from my head. I
had plenty of questions. But the stocky veterinarian in baby-blue scrubs didn’t
have the answers I needed. Only Mama had the answers, and Mama wasn’t talking. “No
questions.”

I had caught the gist of what the
vet said, but a doggie prenatal visit couldn’t hold my attention today. On the
other hand, Jonette appeared to be hanging onto young Dr. Murphy’s every word.

The vet folded his
paw-print-decorated stethoscope around his neck and caught my eye. “I urge you
to minimize this dog’s distress.”

His patronizing tone cut right
through my fugue. Did he believe I stayed up nights plotting ways to upset the
dog? Frustration spiked through my bloodstream. “I’m already cutting her a lot
of slack. You want me to spend every minute of the day with her?”

“I realize that’s unlikely, even
from the most devoted pet owners.” The vet managed a little half smile that
didn’t reach his slate-gray eyes. “Madonna’s anxiety is real. Relieve her
distress as much as possible. A healthy, happy mom makes a great mother.”

I’d experienced that firsthand.
When my marriage failed, I’d been less attentive to my daughters. I’d been
lucky they hadn’t acted out. For a time it seemed all of us walked on
eggshells.

Dr. Murphy was charging me eighty-five dollars for this advice. If I didn’t respond appropriately, he’d repeat himself
until I got it. No sense running up extra charges on my bill. I mentally reviewed his speaking points and recited them for him. “Got it. Keep the dog calm. Let
her pee as much as she wants. No problem.”

The vet nodded. “The important
thing is to stay calm. Madonna has enough anxiety. She doesn’t need to mirror
your stress.”

Stress? At my house? “Sure. Calm.
Piece of cake.”

Jonette hit me with her elbow again. “Don’t kid about this. We don’t want to mess this up.” She turned her
reverent gaze on the vet again. “How will we know when the big moment arrives?”

“Based on the timeline we’ve established, I believe you have another two weeks to go, and then you’ll have your
puppies.”

Two weeks?

Yikes.

That was soon.

Would Mama be home to witness the birthing? Or would she be locked in jail for making a speed bump out of Erica
Hodges?

Birth and death. Opposite ends of
the spectrum, forever linked through the process of living. You couldn’t have
birth without death following. Or office visits without bills.

After paying Madonna’s vet bill,
I waited in the parking lot while Jonette used the restroom. Madonna peed on
every bush we passed. If she started peeing more than this, she wouldn’t be
able to walk without hosing down the sidewalk. Sympathy welled within me. I’d been this huge with Charla, waddling around, peeing every chance I could. It wasn’t much
fun. “You’re almost to the finish line, Madonna.” She licked my hand.

Poor baby. I squatted down and
hugged her neck.

Orphaned. Pregnant as a whale.
Living with four females. We weren’t complete strangers, but we weren’t what
she was used to, either.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,
sweetie. It’s going to be all right.”

Madonna leaned into my embrace,
soaking up that physical contact and assurance. It floored me that I’d been so oblivious to her distress. It hurt more to think I’d added to her anxiety.
This gentle giant deserved better. I rubbed behind her ears, and she made a
happy dog sound.

“We’ll get through this, I
promise. Those puppies will be here, and you’ll be dreaming of peace and quiet
and doggie naps.”

Jonette joined us with a laugh. “You
were paying attention. Atta girl.”

Her words were for me, but she’d cooed them in the special voice she used for the dog. Madonna thumped her tail.

I scrambled to my feet and
allowed Jonette to take the leash. We strolled through the park, heading home. “Sorry, I’ve been a bit out of it today.”

“I noticed. The vet noticed. Even
the dog noticed. How do you do that? No one notices when I’m upset.”

I glanced her way, studying her
profile. Had I missed something with Jonette, too? “Don’t sell yourself short.
I’d know. Mama and the girls would know. Dean would know.”

“But it isn’t the same. My life has always been chaos. You are the stable one. Or you were. Charlie’s betrayal
changed more than your marital status. You’re different now.”

Leaves crunched underfoot on the
sidewalk. School buses passed on the road bounding the park. “Not so different,
really. Just a bit more likely to view the world without rose-colored glasses.
Believing the best of everyone led to heartache and desolation. I won’t be that
stupid again.”

“You weren’t stupid. Charlie was.
He knows it now. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” Jonette watched the
darting flight of a yellow butterfly. “You used to be happy.”

I grinned. “I’m getting happy again.
Sometimes twice a week.”

Jonette let out more leash. “I’m
not talking about sex. I’m talking about you. I was so worried about you, then
you pulled yourself together and I thought you would be okay. But now I’m not
so sure.”

My heart raced. I didn’t know
where she was going with this, but it couldn’t be good. Did she share my
suspicions about Mama? I inhaled a shaky breath. “What are you getting at?”

“You’re keeping secrets from me.”

I blinked a few times. Denial formed in my mouth. But this was my best friend. My lifelong confidante. “I am.”

Jonette flashed me a look of triumph. Then her expression sobered. “I saw the car.”

My step faltered. I nodded toward
the wooden park bench. “Want to sit?”

“Sure.”

We sat. Madonna circled and sat a
couple of times before she got it right. I remembered that part about
pregnancy, too. “I heard you talking about her car as I came in,” Jonette said. “When Madonna and I went outside, I saw the broken headlight and bent
bumper.”

From her factual tone, Jonette didn’t
appear to be judging Mama by the evidence, or me for withholding said evidence
from a police investigation. “You’ve got to promise not to tell a soul,” I
said. “This is the biggest mess ever.”

Jonette nodded, her chin-length hair
cupping her intent pixie face. “Promise.”

After glancing around to make
sure no one could overhear us, I leaned in close to Jonette. “Mama is thrilled
Erica is dead. Put that with the person-sized dent in Mama’s car, and it
doesn’t look good. Add in that Mama won’t account for her whereabouts the night
of Erica’s death, and the final picture is absolutely grim. I’m no police
detective, but Mama’s in big trouble here.”

Jonette didn’t hesitate. “Then we
have to find out who killed Erica. Plain and simple.”

My gaze swept the park again, sure
that the entire Frederick County police force would jump out from behind the
slides, swing sets, and seesaws, and arrest us both for withholding
information. “But what if Mama was involved with Erica’s death? I don’t want to
be the one who seals her fate. I want to protect her.”

“By letting her go to jail?”

The air swooshed out of me like a spiked tire. “That’s the flaw in my plan. How do I help her without hurting her? It
can’t be done.”

“If you do nothing, she’ll go to
jail anyway. Once Britt focuses on a suspect, he gets tunnel vision. That’s
what he did with me, anyway. You don’t have a choice. You have to look into
Erica’s murder.”

If only life were so black and
white. “I have nothing to go on. It’s a miracle Britt hasn’t already questioned
Mama on the basis of Mama and Erica’s past antagonism.”

“You figured out who killed
Dudley,” Jonette reminded me. “Finding Erica’s killer can’t be any harder than
that.”

“Rafe read me the riot act on
self-endangerment.”

“You letting all that butter-soft
leather in his expensive car go to your head? The new Cleo doesn’t take orders
from any man, remember?”

I snorted. “The new Cleo is
making up the rules as she goes along.”

Jonette blinked slyly. “Doesn’t
everyone?”

We shared a laugh. My feeling of
gloom and doom lifted, and I felt pounds lighter. It was unrealistic for me to believe I could control everything. But that didn’t mean I would sit back and leave things
to chance.

Jonette rubbed my tense shoulder.
“That’s the spirit. Laughter is the glue gun of life. You laugh enough and the
important stuff falls into place.”

My expression froze as the true
weight of my problem settled on my shoulders again. “Joking aside, there are
serious consequences here. If you help me, you may become an accessory to
Mama’s crime.”

“Do you believe your mother did
it?”

I flinched. Madonna whimpered. It
was one thing to think it, quite another to voice my fears. Good thing I didn’t
shy away from difficult tasks. “I don’t think it was premeditated murder, but,
yes, given her recent mental state, she could’ve killed Erica. Car accidents
happen all the time. What if Mama didn’t mean to kill her, and Erica
inadvertently got between Mama’s car and the pavement?”

“Then it was an accident. We’ll
prove it wasn’t Delilah’s fault, and everything will go back to normal. Piece
of cake.”

“Not hardly. Mama’s not talking.
She doesn’t want my help.”

Jonette shrugged. “So, we help
her anyway. What’s the big deal?”

The big deal was that Mama was
hiding something. Whatever it was, it was tearing her apart. If I looked into
Erica’s death, chances were I would find what was turning Mama into a cranky
old woman.

Secrets were kept for a reason.
Odds were this was no featherweight problem. This was surely the heavyweight
champion secret of the world. No stress there. None at all.

“This is Mama we’re talking
about.” I looked around furtively to see if anyone noticed my voice had gone
shrill again. Madonna whimpered and placed her head in Jonette’s lap. I took a
deep breath. My anxiety upset the dog, just as the vet said it would.

Dang.

If the people police didn’t get me, the dog police surely would.

A few deep breaths, and I felt
calmer. “She won’t tell me what happened. When I brought the subject up today,
she stonewalled me. Then her face went pale and she clutched her heart. Face
it, I’m putty in her hands.”

“We don’t need her cooperation.
We’ll grill her friends, and they’ll give us the scoop.”

I wasn’t buying that logic. “I’m
not convinced they’ll tell us anything. Their loyalty is to Mama.”

“They’ll cave if it keeps Delilah
out of jail. You work on Muriel and Francine. I’ll grill Margie and Edna.”

“Why do you get the fun ones?” I
asked sourly.

Jonette stood and stretched. So
did Madonna. “I get first choice because I’m older than you,” Jonette said
smugly. “Besides, I should spearhead this investigation. Your detective skills
aren’t worth a damn.”

I hurried after Jonette and
Madonna. “What are you talking about now?”

Jonette shot me a thick look. “Gee, Jonette, why did you run out of my house yesterday as if your pants were
on fire? Is there something going on in your life?” She looked both ways before
we crossed the street. “My best friend in the whole wide world would ask what
was happening in my life. My best friend would want to know about the
earth-shaking events occurring in my life.”

She was right. I owed her a
couple of questions. I’d been so concerned about Mama being a killer that I
hadn’t focused on Jonette’s bizarre behavior. “You’re right. Inquiring minds
want to know. Why did you run out of my house yesterday?”

Jonette shivered with energy. “I’ve
been about to burst with the news. I wanted to tell Dean, but I knew I had to
tell you first or you’d kill me. You’ll never guess what I decided to do.”

With Jonette it could be
anything. She’d had more men and more careers than most. A glance at her
animated face showed that whatever it was, she was pumped. “What?”

“This is so awesome. I went down to city hall and found out the requirements for running for public office. And
guess what? I meet all the requirements. Aren’t you proud of me?”

Public office.