Boo (40 page)

“Hear, hear!” came a shout.

“Settle down,” muttered the sheriff.

Wolfe swallowed but continued. “Two amazing things have happened to me recently. First of all, I was at a desperate point in my life, knowing inside my heart there had to be a greater purpose in life than writing. I felt so dead inside, and by the grace of God, literally, I walked down the hill and into Reverend Peck’s church and made the biggest decision of my life. My heart was changed forever by God. But I also have to say, my heart was changed in another way, too. In fact, my heart was captured by this beautiful young woman.” Wolfe looked at Ainsley, who was smiling and tilting her head affectionately. “I’ve never felt this way about anybody, and I feel honored even knowing her. She’s beautiful not only on the outside, but on the inside, too. She does nice things for people, stands up for what she believes, and has more character than anyone I know.”

Wolfe turned to her and took her hands. He could feel everyone lean forward in anticipation, and several quiet gasps seemed to suck all the air right out of the room. His brow beaded with nervous sweat, his heart palpitated faster than all the thoughts and words that raced through his mind, and as much as he loved and cared for this woman, he was beginning to find it hard to express what he wanted to in the way he wanted to. So he prayed quietly in his spirit for the Lord to help him. Then he said, “Ainsley, I love you. I’m in love with you. I can’t imagine my life without you.” He decided it was appropriate to kneel, but just as he was about to bend his knee, something stopped him.

It was a blood-curdling scream, coming from the direction of the garage.

Everyone froze, and then it came again. Sheriff Parker rushed through the room, and people scooted aside as Ainsley followed him, panic seizing her heart. She was right behind her father when he yanked open the garage door. Miss Peeple stood on the first step, trembling and crying, her hand over her mouth. She looked up at Sheriff Parker, tears in her eyes.

“Missy!” he said, taking her arm and pulling her up into the house. He sat her down in the nearest chair. “Are you okay? What’s the matter? Are you having chest pains?”

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Ainsley said.

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not that.”

“Then what? Why were you screaming?” Sheriff Parker asked. By now, the guests had gathered behind Ainsley, asking questions and whispering. Ainsley motioned for them to settle down.

Miss Peeple shook her head, lowered her eyes, and pointed behind her. Sheriff Parker looked into the garage and gently moved toward the steps. Ainsley tried to stand on tiptoe to see what Miss Peeple was pointing at as her father descended.

Then she heard her father moan. “No,” he said. “No!”

“Dad?” Ainsley scooted past Miss Peeple into the garage. There on
the floor next to the tool cabinet was her father, hunched over their cat. “Thief!” She joined her father, who had now picked the cat up and was holding him gently. “Dad! Is he okay?”

Her father’s expression indicated sadness. “I … I don’t know. He’s so limp. He’s cold …”

Garth suddenly appeared with a stethoscope in his hand. “What happened?”

Sheriff Parker’s eyes teared up. “I’m not sure … Miss Peeple found him …”

Garth stared at the cat and then swallowed as he looked at Ainsley. “Well, um, it’s freezing out here. Let’s at least take him inside, see what we have.”

Sheriff Parker cradled the cat as the crowd parted, and he took Thief to the living room, then gently laid the cat in the middle of the coffee table as guests scurried to remove their drink glasses and coasters.

“I don’t think he’s breathing,” Sheriff Parker said in a trembling voice.

“Here,” Garth said gently, kneeling beside the table and the cat. “Let me just listen. We’ll know more then.”

The guests shook their heads and covered their mouths, and Ainsley wrapped one arm around her father’s waist. Everyone waited anxiously as Garth listened to the cat’s heartbeat. It took what seemed like an eternity before Garth stood, lowered his head, and said, “I’m sorry.”

Sheriff Parker’s eyes widened. “He’s dead?”

“It appears that way.”

“It appears that way? Is he dead or not?”

Garth tucked his stethoscope into his back pocket. “I can’t find a heartbeat.”

Tears pooled in Ainsley’s eyes. “I can’t believe this. How could this happen?”

The guests offered words of encouragement and condolence, but it
was obvious Sheriff Parker was thinking of one thing, and one thing only: Thief was dead.

“How did Thief get into the garage?” the sheriff asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

No one apparently knew, and the sheriff looked down at his shoes.

“It’s so cold outside, not fit for man or beast. Thief hates the garage.”

Ainsley rubbed his shoulder. “Dad, it was cold out there, but not cold enough to kill Thief. The garage is protected from the elements. He had to have died from natural causes.”

“He’s only ten. He was in perfectly good health. This just doesn’t make sense.” Then Sheriff Parker’s head rose again, and his gaze found Miss Peeple near the doorway, sipping a glass of water someone had brought her and blotting her forehead with a handkerchief. “Why were you in the garage?”

Glass to her mouth, the handkerchief on her forehead, Missy’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“Yes. How did you know he was in the garage?”

“I didn’t, dear,” she said, handing her glass to Garth and tucking the handkerchief away in her pocket. She steadied herself on her cane. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

“The bathroom?”

“Yes. The bathroom.”

“You’ve been in the house many times. You know where all the bathrooms are.”

Garth, who was now standing behind the couch, leaned over Sheriff Parker’s shoulder and whispered, “She’s showing some forgetful signs these days, Sheriff. This is just one of many examples. Plus she’s got that incontinence problem, which just makes things worse.”

“Oh,” Sheriff Parker said.

Wolfe stepped to the center of the room. He was feeling terrible, feeling disbelief. He’d tried to catch Garth’s attention several times, but the man avoided his eyes and was obviously not going to speak up. Wolfe knew he was going to have to say something. “Sheriff Parker, I put Thief in the garage.”

The sheriff blinked, and now he was staring at Wolfe in disbelief.

“Wolfe, what are you talking about?” Ainsley asked.

“I … um … I was trying to help.” He glanced up at Garth, then over to Melb. “Melb’s allergic to cats. Really allergic. She can get very sick. And the thought was that if the cat was in the garage, just for an hour or so, Melb could continue to enjoy the day, and then when she left, Thief could come back in.”

“So you killed my cat?” the sheriff asked.

“No … no! The cat was fine when I put him in the garage. Perfectly fine.” Wolfe stared at Garth, and they exchanged a look that only two men in love with one woman could. In a split second Wolfe knew something very bad was about to happen.

The sound of shattering glass broke the exchange, and everyone turned around. Garth had dropped Miss Peeple’s water glass that he was holding. “Oops,” Garth said, a slight, nearly undetectable smile on his lips. “I’m sorry. Here, let me clean that up.”

Wolfe shuddered. Then he cried,
“No! Don’t touch that glass!”

But before he knew it, Garth had stooped down and scooped up a piece of the glass. Then he squeezed his hand shut, opened it back up, and yelped. “Ouch! I cut myself!” Blood trickled down Garth’s hand.

Wolfe felt his head hit the floor.

“Wolfe!” Ainsley rushed to his side as he lay on the carpet in the middle of the living room.

“Is he okay?” the reverend asked, rushing to his side as well.

“He passes out at the sight of blood.”

“Doesn’t look like he hit his head too hard. I think he’s going to be okay, soon as he wakes up.”

The sheriff rubbed his brow in fury. Then he looked at Melb, who was sitting in the corner, trembling. “Is it true, Melb? Is what Wolfe says true?”

“Daddy! Wolfe is passed out on the floor!”

“The reverend said he’d be okay.”

“He can’t even defend himself!”

“Does he
need to
defend himself?” her father asked. He then looked at Melb. “So? Are you allergic?”

Melb’s bottom lip was quivering and her eyes widened with every word he spoke. “Um, well … uh … it’s just that …”

“What? Is this a hard question?”

“No … no … It’s just … You see …”

The sheriff stepped toward her, and the crowd turned with him. “Are you, or are you not, allergic to cats?”

“Am I allergic to cats? No, I mean, yes, I mean … I mean … I …”

“You mean what, exactly?”

“I mean, that …” Melb started to hyperventilate, and her eyes darted between the sheriff, Garth, and Wolfe on the floor. “Goodness, that’s not an easy question … I can’t say that … I mean I will say … but then …”

“Melb!” the sheriff demanded.

But Melb could do nothing now but sob, and sob she did, as if she were at a funeral.

The sheriff turned around, staring at the crowd. “
What is
going on here?” But no one answered. Ainsley looked down at Wolfe, wondering herself. But Wolfe was still unconscious.

The sheriff marched over to Melb, took her by the arm, stood her to the feet, and guided her quickly to the couch in front of the coffee table, where he ordered her to sit. Melb stared at the cat, lifeless on the table, shaking her head and blotting her nose.

“I guess there’s one way to find out if Wolfe Boone is telling the truth, isn’t there?” the sheriff said, addressing the guests, eyeing each of them.

“What are you talking about?” Ainsley asked.

“Wolfe said that Melb gets sick when she’s around cats. Has allergies, right? Isn’t that what he said?”

“That’s what I heard,” Garth said. “That her eyes start tearing. She swells up and has trouble breathing.”

“Perfect. Then there’s one way to find out if Wolfe is telling the truth.” The sheriff turned to Melb, then walked to the coffee table and
picked up the cat. He took a long look at Thief, then attempted to hand the cat to Melb, who drew back in horror.

“Dad!” Ainsley said.

“Put the cat on your lap, Melb.”

“What?” Melb asked.

“If you’re allergic to cats, then your eyes will water. You’ll start sneezing. Then we’ll know Wolfe is telling the truth.” The sheriff placed the cat on Melb’s lap.

“Uh … uh … oh … ooh!” Melb’s panicky gasps resonated off the walls of the living room. Then her eyes fluttered, and a collective gasp indicated everyone thought she might pass out.

“Daddy! Stop this!” Ainsley said, but her father held up a stern hand in protest.

Melb lamented, “There’s a dead cat on my lap!”

The sheriff was intensely focused, however, and seemed not to care at all what people were thinking or feeling. “Now Melb,” he said, “you’re going to have to stop crying, or we won’t be able to tell if your eyes are watering.”

Melb’s dazed and glassy eyes blinked at the sheriff, but somehow she obeyed, wiping her tears and taking deep breaths, looking up at the ceiling as if trying not to acknowledge the cat on her lap.

After a few moments, the sheriff said, “Well? I’m not seeing any signs of allergies here. Are you?”
You
wasn’t too well defined, so a few people nodded or shook their heads, others stayed perfectly still, and someone mumbled a suggestion from the back, but it wasn’t clear who. Sheriff Parker said, “What was that? Did someone say something?”

Oliver stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Uh, I did. I just thought maybe … well, see, I don’t get allergic until my cat, Mustang GTE, I call her “Geet” for short, well, until she rubs her fur in my face.”

“So what are you suggesting?” asked the sheriff.

“Maybe Melb could … well, she could, um …” Oliver was gesturing with his hands while fumbling along his sentence, and everyone leaned forward, trying to interpret just exactly what it was Oliver was trying to suggest.

“Spit it out, Oliver!”

“Okay, just maybe she could, you know, rub her face in its fur.”