Knot in My Backyard (A Quilting Mystery) (7 page)

CHAPTER 10

Crusher’s phone call came at nine-fifty, his voice a whisper. “We’re in place. Looks good. It should only take you five minutes to drive here.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to see me once I get there?”

“I’ve got a straight shot. Just remember to stay under the light.”

I paced nervously for the next five minutes and then headed for the door. Arthur stood and trotted over to me. This dog was preternaturally smart. He sensed something wonky and planted himself between me and the door.

“Come on, Arthur, move.”

The dog twisted his ears back, creased his forehead, looked at me, and gave me one anxious whine. I moved to the left, and so did he. I moved to the right. Ditto.

This ninety-pound retired police dog didn’t want me to leave the house. We had history. Four months ago, when a killer came after me, I’d locked Arthur in the backyard. He couldn’t protect me then, and I could see he still hadn’t gotten over it.

I grabbed his leash. “Okay, buddy. You win. Nobody said anything about not bringing a dog.”

This stretch of Burbank Boulevard, from Encino east to the 405 Freeway, was dark and deserted at ten. Deep shadows engulfed the golf course to the north and the heavily wooded Encino Creek bed on the south. After Woodley Avenue, the golf course gave way to a nature reserve, with native plants and trees on both sides of the street. This was Switch’s territory, where his people lived in small tents hidden among the trees and in the underbrush.

I pulled into a parking space next to the off-ramp, right under the single streetlight. Switch was nowhere in sight. A pair of headlights came down the off-ramp, briefly illuminating the bushes up there, before turning east on Burbank Boulevard toward Van Nuys. Crusher was right. I couldn’t see him from down below.

I grabbed Arthur’s leash and walked around the car to stand in the light. Anyone driving by would think I was just giving my dog a potty break.

Arthur stiffened and growled softly. We weren’t alone. My heart began to race, and I was glad for this big German shepherd by my side.

The bushes in front of me briefly rustled and out stepped a thin, wiry white man of medium height. His shoulder-length dark hair formed a greasy curtain over his eyes. He wore a dark, unbuttoned, long-sleeved shirt over a light T-shirt and black jeans. The pointed metal caps on the toes of his cowboy boots shone under the light. A swift kick from those bad boys could do some real damage.

Arthur refused to sit, pinned back his ears, and bared his teeth. I kept his leash short and bent to pet his head. “Easy, boy.”

Switch kept to the shadows, speaking in a gravelly voice. “Where’s the money?” He held out his hand, but I refused to walk toward the bushes.

I reached in my pocket and took out a pair of one-hundred-dollar bills. “If you want these, you’ll have to come and get them.” The bills fluttered from the shaking of my hands.

In one swift move, he darted forward, grabbed the bills, and retreated back to the shadows. “Make it quick.”

“I want to talk to the people who camped across the river from the baseball field where a man was murdered Sunday night. Hilda said you could tell me who they were.”

“What for?”

“I want to know if they witnessed the murder. To help out a friend of mine.”

“Two beaners.” He spat on the ground. “Javier and his woman, Graciela, rent that space.”

This guy collects rent from the homeless sleeping on public land?

“Do you know where I can find them?”

He said nothing. I reached in my pocket and took out another bill.

He still didn’t move.

I took out my last bill and stuck out my hand. “This is all I have.”

He held out his hand again, not moving from the shadows.

I stayed under the light.

He slowly walked toward me. “They’re down with my people. I can take you to them.”

Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the bushes.

Several loud engines roared to life.

I let go of Arthur’s leash. He snarled and jumped, wrapping his mouth around Switch’s arm.

Switch let go of me and I stepped back. Then a sharp whine and Arthur fell to the ground, bleeding from a deep cut to his shoulder.

Oh, my God. This is going all wrong
.

I bent to touch Arthur, but a strong pair of arms grabbed me from behind and pulled me to the other side of my car, out of harm’s way.

At the same time, the bikers arrived, four dark figures rose from the bushes below, Switch’s thugs. Soon fists and chains hit flesh.

All I could think about was getting Arthur out of the scuffle of so many pairs of boots and dragging him to safety. I crept back around my car toward the fighting. Arthur raised his head, propped himself up on his side, and tried to drag himself, using his one good foreleg and pushing with his back legs.

I ran forward, grabbed him around his chest, and pulled with all my might, dragging the heavy German shepherd back toward my car. He whined in pain, leaving a dark trail of blood behind.

Crusher yelled at me, “Get out of here!”

I opened the door to the backseat of my car. “Not without my dog!”

I tried to lift Arthur up into the car, but he was way too cumbersome for me.

Suddenly a biker appeared beside me. He scooped up the dog in his arms, laid him gently into the backseat, and slammed the door shut. “Go!”

I ran to the driver’s side, jumped in, and turned the ignition key even before I’d shut the door. Arthur’s cries of pain were muffled by the sound of my tires squealing on the road.

Oh, please don’t let him die! Please don’t let him die.

CHAPTER 11

I broke the speed limit all the way to the twenty-four-hour animal hospital in Encino, pulled into the parking lot, and leaned on my horn, hoping to arouse someone inside. A tech dressed in blue scrubs came to the door.

I jumped out and opened the passenger door. “My dog! He’s been stabbed! Please help me!”

The tech yelled something over his shoulder; then another tech appeared, running with a rolling stainless-steel table. Arthur whined softly as they pulled him gently out of the car. Blood dripped on the carpet and puddled on the seat. He lifted his head and gave me a sad look.

The open car door triggered a persistent dinging to let me know the keys were still in the ignition. I ran inside after the techs, ignoring the sound.

Arthur had tried to keep me from leaving the house tonight; I took him with me instead. I was so ashamed. I put him in danger, knowing he’d protect me, even at the risk of his own life.

Frantic for reassurance, I grabbed the tech’s sleeve as his helper wheeled Arthur through doors marked
STAFF
ONLY
. “
Is he going to be all right?”

“Don’t know yet. He’s got a deep laceration on his shoulder and he’s lost a lot of blood. Looks like he’ll need surgery. We’ll know more after the doc looks at him. Meanwhile, register at the desk and then have a seat and wait.”

I ran back to the car, pulled the keys from the ignition, and grabbed my purse from under the seat. I reached inside for my cell phone, dreading the call I had to make. I could hardly see through my tears.

He answered on the second ring. “Beavers.”

“Oh, Arlo, I’ve done something so foolish. Now Arthur is hurt. I’m so sorry,” I blubbered.

“Slow down. Are you all right? What’s this about Arthur?”

“I went out tonight and took Arthur with me. Someone attacked me and then stabbed the dog when he jumped in to protect me. I’m at the animal hospital in Encino.”

His voice got very quiet. “Were you injured?”

“No. But Arthur—”

“How bad?”

“He got stabbed in the shoulder. He’s in with the doctor now. He may need surgery.”

“Where were you when this happened?”

“On Burbank Boulevard.”

“Near the 405? We’ve just responded to a call. Were you in that mess?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it. I’ve had enough.” Then the phone went dead.

Ten minutes later, Beavers pushed open the waiting-room doors and reached my chair in three angry strides, eyes on fire. A look of dread briefly crossed his face when he saw Arthur’s blood smeared on my clothes and hands. “Where’s my dog?”

The
STAFF
ONLY
door opened and a gorgeous young veterinarian in a white lab coat walked efficiently over to us, peeling off a pair of bloody latex gloves. Her long blond hair hung in a perky ponytail and her blue eyes flicked from me to Beavers. “Are you the owners of the German shepherd?”

Beavers turned his back to me and faced the doctor. “I am. How is he?”

The pretty doctor looked at him and smiled, ignoring my presence completely. “I’m Dr. Kerry Andreason.” She held out her hand. I noticed she wasn’t wearing any rings.

He shook her hand. “Arlo Beavers.”

She led him a few steps away, effectively shutting me out of the conversation. I sat by helplessly and listened.

“Well, Mr. Beavers, he’s sustained a pretty serious cut to his shoulder. He may have some nerve damage. We’ll have to wash out the wound and stitch the muscles back together. He’ll need to stay here on an antibiotic drip for a few days.”

“Just do what you have to do, Doctor.”

She glanced over at my bloody shirt and then back at Beavers. “How did this happen?”

“He’s a retired police dog. Someone stabbed him while he tried to protect this woman.” Beavers jerked his thumb in my direction, refusing to look at me.

This woman?

“It’s a good thing your dog was there, I guess.” She smiled into his eyes and slightly caressed his upper arm. “Don’t worry, Mr. Beavers, I’ll take good care of him.”

She’s flirting with him!

“Thanks, Doc.”

She smiled once more. “Call me ‘Kerry.’”

He nodded.

When she disappeared through the door again, Beavers turned to look at me. His eyes were cold.

“Arlo, let me explain.”

“Not this time. Whatever this is you’re doing, you’re doing it alone from now on. Go home. I’ve nothing more to say to you.”

He took a few more steps over to the reception desk. With a deep sinking in my heart, I knew he might as well have taken a thousand steps. Arlo Beavers just walked out of my life.

I spent the night crying. What was wrong with me? Why did I take such a stupid risk? Poor Arthur almost died protecting me. What for? I’d just lost the best man I’d ever known. Oh, God, I probably couldn’t fix what I’d broken. On top of everything, that pretty doctor’s flirty smile flashed through my mind. More tears.

Sleep finally came at around four. At nine, the phone woke me up.

“You okay?” Crusher asked.

“No. Arthur’s in the hospital and Arlo has left me.” I started crying all over again, wallowing in misery. I didn’t even think to ask if he and the other bikers were okay. After all, they went into combat for me. Saved me.

“I’m just a rotten person,” I sobbed.

“I’m coming over with some strong coffee, babe.”

To heck with Weight Watchers. “Bring some donuts,” I sniffed.

I put on my bathrobe. My bloody clothes lay on the bathroom floor, right where I dropped them last night before taking a shower. I scooped them up, went to the kitchen, and put them in the trash, along with the bloody rag I’d used to clean my car. Then I fed Bumper and cleaned his litter box. Arthur’s dishes sat empty on the floor. I washed them in the sink, arrows piercing my heart.

A huge white Dodge Ram, with just about the biggest tires I’d ever seen, pulled up in front of my house. I stood at the living-room window. Crusher limped up my walkway, carrying a large paper bag from Western Donuts and a cardboard tray with two giant cups of coffee.

I opened the door and he walked straight to the sofa, sitting down gingerly. This giant of a man, with gray creeping into his red beard, was way north of forty; yet he fought like a young gladiator last night and came away with one swollen eye and hands covered with cuts and bruises.

I sat down on the other end of the sofa. “I never got a chance to thank you for saving Arthur and me last night.”

“I’ve gotta be honest, babe. You were smart to bring the dog along. If he hadn’t jumped in, we might’ve been too late.”

I opened the bag of donuts.
How does he know I love apple fritters?
I reached in and took out a glazed hunk of deep fried dough and cinnamon apples the size of a salad plate. “What happened after I left last night?”

“The minute we saw Switch grab you, we came down like his worst nightmare. None of us really got jammed, but we busted up those other guys pretty bad. They probably put Switch in the hospital.” Crusher grinned. “I recall he somehow got stuck with his own knife. By the time the cops got there, we were dust. Did you get anything useful outta him?”

“Two names, Javier and Graciela, but names alone don’t do us much good. We don’t even know how to find them. You got hurt, and Arlo’s dog almost got killed.” I couldn’t stop the tears. “Arlo was so angry—he broke up with me.”

Crusher watched me silently as I wept. “He’s a fool if he did.” Then he slid over next to me, put one arm around my shoulders, and pulled me into his chest with his other. I felt like I sank into the middle of a giant inner tube that smelled like a mixture of gasoline and Tide.

As nice as Crusher tried to be, this didn’t feel right. I pulled back and gave my head a firm shake. I didn’t want him to get any ideas.

Somewhere a cell phone rang. Crusher reached in his pocket. “Yeah. When? Okay. Meet you there.”

He stood up. “Ed’s on his way home. The cops couldn’t hold him any longer without charging him. They don’t have enough evidence and his lawyer knows it. I’m going over there now.”

I blew my nose in a Kleenex. “Thanks for everything, Yossi.”

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll be in touch.”

CHAPTER 12

I splashed cold water on my face and looked in the bathroom mirror, horrified at my splotchy red skin and puffy eyes. Even my graying curls were drooping sadly. I looked every bit my fifty-five years—and felt even worse. The trauma and stress of the last few days caused my fibromyalgia to flare. My body ached all over and all I wanted to do was crawl in bed, pull a quilt over my head, and escape the reality of the damage I’d caused.