Scandal (11 page)

"It's him, all right," Magda whispered to herself.

The deputy looked at her curiously, because Magda had been so matter of fact.

"It's my husband and my house, I don't think it can get any worse, do you?"

Deputy Bybee rolled her eyes. "That remains to be seen."

"Frankly, I've seen about all the remains I can handle." I pushed down nausea as I made my
way back into the kitchen. With a thump I sat onto a chair at the table where we'd all had pie just a
few days ago. My cell rang just as I was digging it out to call Len. It was him.

"Sweetheart, how goes it?" His voice was full of concern.

I relaxed into the warmth of him, that side that was gentle, caring, and knew what to do.
Forgetting my doubts I poured my troubles into his listening ear.

He cut to the chase. "I guess this means that tomorrow is off?" His tone was neutral.

"You don't mind?"

"
Au contraire
, my little chickadee, I mind a lot." His voice purred into my ear, which
tingled as if his fingers had traced the rims, lightly, but with just that little bit of pressure that made
me want more.

My mind raced, feeling for loopholes. "I am going to be busy tomorrow, going down to fetch
Sam and bring him back. Say! Do you want to go with me? You know, I could really use your help in
this."

"Sure, if you want me to. I've already cleared the decks for the day, so I'm free. How about I
pick you up around... Wait, where should I pick you up? You staying with Magda tonight? In
Willamina?"

Magda and I had talked it over and she had a friend who could come and stay with her
tomorrow. Now that I thought of it, why shouldn't I take her along with Len and me to pick up Sam?
That way, nobody could get in trouble.

It might help take her mind off the immediate work that would have to take place in the
backyard. It was all quickly arranged.

Deputy Bybee said Magda could go with us to pick up Sam, but she made it clear to me that
she didn't want Magda left alone. "I'm just worried about her state of mind. I know how I'd feel if we
found my husband buried in my backyard."

"She's not a suspect?"

"Not on the face of it, no. I was there when she first saw him, and I don't believe she
suspected in any of this." She shrugged. "I could be wrong, but I'm good at what I do, and one of the
things I do is trust my experience. Besides, I talked to my mom, who's known Mrs. Buler all her life
and she says to look in a different direction. We have other clues." She put her hand on my shoulder,
"Just watch her. She's highly thought of in this town, and that ain't no small potatoes."

Magda was ready to leave. She handed me a large cloth bag, homemade of course. "Here.
Your quilt. We're gonna have some time on our hands. Let's be productive."

I was hoping she'd forgotten the quilt. The closer we got to doing it, the bigger the knot in
my stomach became. Oddly, I took the bag with a feeling of serenity. "You have what we need at
your house?"

"You betcha. I don't know much about murdering bears but I do know quilting. Ain't
nothing like it to calm you down. You'll see."

I wondered if she was talking to me, or herself. No matter.

We left the people in the backyard to gathering clues and moving the body on out of there.
Deputy Bybee watched us leave, with a last caution. "You leave your cells on. We'll be calling you
when you can return here. Meanwhile, go on down to Cannon Beach. But, come right on back, okay.
No time for funning around down there."

As we climbed into my car the officers were loading Tom's bagged body into the back of a
van. Magda took one long look, gave a small nod, and moved on into the passenger seat. We were
buckling up when she said, "I guess that's that, huh. I never thought it'd come to this."

"Did you ever think about how it might end?" Neither one of us questioned what "it"
meant.

"I'm not surprised somebody offed him and buried him in the backyard. Just never
imagined it would be my backyard."

We waited while the morgue people finished up with locking the double doors of the van.
They backed out slowly, turned down the hill and moved on down the road. Taking the body to
autopsy, not to Treeline Mortuary.

I gave the van some distance before I followed it down the road. Neither of us said a
word..

It was barely dusk when we got back to her house, a cottage with a large trellis arched over
the walkway to the front door, overgrown with a rose bush coming from each side and meeting in a
tangle overhead. Thorns snagged my blouse and caught in my hair as we walked under it. The
whole front looked shaggy, like no one was much paying attention to it.

I reminded myself to tell Sam to bring his garden tools. We had work for him to do. He was
going to be one busy guy.

From my bed in the guest room I heard Magda cry out. Nightmares?

I turned on lights on the way to the kitchen where I drew a glass of water. Remembering
Deputy Bybee's earlier kindness, I found washcloths in the bathroom cupboard, and soaked one
with warm water. When I entered her room, she was sitting on the side of her bed, shaking. I turned
on her bedside lamp and handed her the water.

She took a deep drink before handing it back to me. "Thank you." She buried her face in the
comfort of the warm cloth while I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulders.

"Annie, This is the most awful thing that has ever happened to me." She tossed her head.
"Oh, listen to me. It's not about me. It happened to Tommy. And here I am, looking forward to a trip
to the beach tomorrow to get Sammy. I'm a real piece of work, that's what I am."

She breathed a deep sigh. "I know what happened to Tommy is real, but in my dream it was
just so sad, him sitting under the apple tree, saying, 'Are you happy? I'm gone for good, now.'" She
took another drink.

"God forgive me, I'm not sorry he won't show up on my doorstep again. Drunk. Crazy.
Whoever killed him did me a favor.

"Oh! I don't really mean that. It's just that it's been such a long time I've been afraid that
he'd come back home. Never knowing. Looking over my shoulder, wondering if he was going to
show up and wreck something."

She set the glass down and tugged at the bedding. I lifted the covers, and she pulled her
legs and body back onto the bed. I plumped up her pillows and with a little groan she lay back
down.

"Do you think you can go back to sleep now? If you don't sleep I wonder about you coming
with me tomorrow. With Len and me," I amended, "to pick up Sam. We could always bring him to
you."

"No. I'll be okay. I need the trip."

As I leaned to turn the bedside lamp off, I saw a twinkle, dim but lighting the corners of her
eyes.

"Besides, someone has to chaperone you two. That boy is up to no good. You mark my
words." The twinkle faded and I clicked off the light. "Thank you for helping me. Lena's a basket
case and most of my friends are on a quilt retreat. I felt so alone."

"Glad to help," I whispered but I don't think she heard me, because the next noise from her
bed was a light snore.

When I woke the morning after the bear found Tommy, I felt drugged. I lay there gathering
my bearings until my body propelled me to the bathroom. I needed to scrub off everything that had
happened yesterday. As I stood under the shower nozzle with the hottest water I could handle
pouring over me, my head began to clear. The nightmare was over. Soaping up a washcloth, I
washed Tommy's touch, from my face to my toes, down the drain. Yesterday had been the final
straw in a lifetime of nightmares with him.

The Quilt Show was coming up and I had responsibilities.

Annie was moving around in the kitchen. I heard cupboards being opened and shut, then
the smell of coffee. I prefer tea in the early morning but I was relieved to not have to make any
decisions. Coffee would do fine. Annie's quilt needed finishing, and I needed to teach her how to do
that. While I dressed I mentally put fabric together, laid out batting and put a backing on it. I
imagined it about ready for CanDoIt, the name I'd given my quilting machine.

I pulled on tan pants and a pink sweater, the brown walking shoes I always take to the
beach, and accessorized with shell earrings and a heart necklace.

Annie was buttering toast. "Coffee there for you, Magda, if you want it." She pointed to the
cup at my place, with bowl and spoon. The tablecloth was one of my flowered pieces of fabric, a
large square of thin cotton printed with roses of pink and red.

Tommy had sneered as he was readying to leave this last time. "I'll be glad to be rid of all
this girlie cloth with little flowers."

I'd looked around after he left, and dang it, I did have lots of flowered fabric. I bought more
but he never got to see it. I suppose that's for the best.

"I'll be glad," I'd snapped back, "when I don't have to listen to you sneering at me,
either."

He'd been surprised when I said that. I usually just go quiet when he attacks my
quilting.

I noticed what Annie was wearing. "Lord, girl, do you think that neckline's low
enough?"

She tugged at the neckline of the dark blue sweater, trying to bring it up so not quite so
much cleavage was showing.

"That doesn't help much. I like your skirt, love the way it sways, and florals are my favorite,
but, a skirt to the beach?" I went into my room and brought her a camisole. "Save the boobs for him,
I'd rather look at fabric." I threw it to her.

She sat down at the table and laid the lacy camisole in her lap. Took a sip of her coffee.

"That guy's got you in a tailspin," I said while I filled my bowl with Wheat Chex, poured on
the milk, sprinkled on some sugar and ate with an appetite that surprised me.

Annie mumbled through a bite of toast, "Yeah. I guess."

I couldn't say that I was any better. I should have been thinking about Tommy and was
wondering how Sammy would like me in pink? Were we crazy, or what?

Hormones. I'd thought I was done with that stuff, until Sammy and I stumbled back into
each other's lives. I'd worried that I was in a pickle, being married and all, but now that problem's
solved. Sorta, kinda.

I still couldn't figure out who'd killed him. I knew it wasn't me. Why was he in the back
yard?

"He'll be here any minute. Thanks for this, I'll give it back to you."

For a minute I was confused, as I'd been thinking of Tommy. He? Oh, Len. "Just don't let him
tear it off you!"

She laughed, dumped the last of her coffee into the sink and went into the guest room. A
few minutes later she came out, wearing the camisole and carrying the sheets from her bed. "I'll put
these in the washer. Where do you keep your clean sheets? You want the bed to be fresh for
Sam."

I pointed to the linen closet just as the doorbell rang. Len. I let him in.

She was right behind me, clean sheets in hand. "Just in time to help me make a bed."

He is cute, especially when he smiles like that, though there is still something about him
that puts me off.

"Glad to be of help." They went into the bedroom while I gave the kitchen a slapdash wash
up.

"All ready!" When they came out, Annie's face had a soft glow that hadn't been there
before.

Len patted my shoulder, said something about hanging in there, and opened the front door
for us. "Beauty before age." He swept us out the door in front of him.

As I passed him I said, "You're a sweet talker, ain't you?"

He didn't answer, but smiled as he closed the door behind us.

Annie and I gasped together when we saw what was in the driveway.

In the driveway was a classic powder-blue Thunderbird. four-door. Len stepped to the front
passenger door "You called Madam? Your carriage awaits."

"Oh, Len. It's beautiful. I had no idea you had such a fantastic car." I trailed my hand against
the light blue paint as I walked to the front to admire the classic Thunderbird logo stretched across
the wide grill, the wings of the powerful icon balancing either side.

Len came up beside me, saying, as he put his hand on my shoulder, "Oh, this old thing?" He
leaned close to whisper, "I do have my secrets," and nibbled ever so lightly on my ear.

Magda said, "Ahem!" right behind us. "Now, that's why I'm coming along." She stared at the
car, finally said, "I should'a guessed you'd have a fancy rig to match your talk."

"Oh, Miz Magda, you say the sweetest things." He left me to my examination of the car and
went to Magda, who was standing beside the rear door on the driver's side. He opened it, offering
his hand to help her in.

She put her purse and coat into his hand and slid onto the black leather seat, going only
halfway across. "I'll just stop here so I can be close behind to help you with your driving." She took
her purse and coat, placing them beside her, and buckled up. "Glad to see you've modernized
her."

"Hey, of course. It's the law." He shut her door, gently, but with a firm thrust.

I was at my door and reaching for the handle when he called, "Wait a minute, I'll be right
there." He crossed behind me to grasp the handle and give it dramatic pull as he opened it. Bowing
slightly, he waved me in. "Miz Annie."

We followed the same road as I'd taken the week before, but with more attention from
other travelers. Len loved it, raising a finger off the steering wheel in acknowledgement of honks or
waves. I think he was sorry we made such good time, so much so that he passed up the first
entrance into Cannon Beach and drove the few miles to come into town from the north end,
allowing him to parade the T-bird back through town.

We took the street that parallels the ocean. Shops lined both sides, mostly old cottages with
multipane windows and flowerboxes, now converted into specialty stores, galleries, or cozy
restaurants. The dirt or gravel alleyways were red-bricked over, each brick edged with green moss.
Streetlamps hung with flower baskets, pansies and nasturtiums flowing over the edges. Attractive
to people, but slow going for cars. Our stately creep gave folks time to admire the car, and Len to
absorb the glory.