Dog Days Read online

  I laughed, and we left.

  It felt cooler outside.

  “Hope she gets that fixed up quick. Supposed to be hotter tomorrow.”

  My eyes rolled. “You didn’t have to tell me that. Doesn’t it usually start getting chilly by now?”

  “It’s the end of August. It’s always hot at the end of August, just not this hot.”

  “Let’s change the subject. Let me know what you find out from your Google search.” I patted the thin hard-bound book. “I’ll show this to Wyatt tonight.”

  “Will do. How’s he doing?”

  “Much better. He says the pain is almost non-existent now, but he’s still taking things slow.”

  “That’s good. We don’t want him going backwards from trying to do too much too soon.”

  “Yeah. I keep telling him that. He frowns at me.”

  “I remember when my leg was trying to heal. Lance yelled at me all the time to quit trying to go so fast. We’re men. We don’t like to take orders.”

  “Unless you’re forced into submission.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but— Um, okay, sure.”

  THAT EVENING AT home, I brought Wyatt up to speed on the most recent updates, including the yearbook.

  “Dandy says she went out with him a couple times, but he only wanted info on me. I don’t know the guy; don’t remember ever seeing him.”

  “Don’t hit me, but…. Are you sure?”

  I squinted at him, but my hands stayed still. “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t know the name, either. Rick is going to Google him.”

  “Good. Let me know what he finds out, if anything.”

  “I will.”

  Chapter 17

  … THURSDAY…

  * * *

  … August 27th…

  * * *

  I HEARD THE front door open, then rattle as it closed, and looked up as the entrant came up the hall. “Hey, Annetta.”

  “Hey, yourself. Came to check out your new digs.”

  “Hah. Hopefully they’re as temporary as we were promised they’d be. Not a bad space, but awkward.” I motioned her to a seat. “What’s up?”

  She … lounged. “Gotta tell ya, Maggie, you’re cutting things close.”

  I searched my brain for the reason, but came up blank. “You’re going to lay it all out for me, right?”

  “I realize you have a lot on your plate at the moment, but—” She laughed, her head shaking. “Not sure how to approach this. Do I pretend to have my feelings hurt because you didn’t ask? Or maybe get mad that you haven’t, yet? Or be madder still that you asked someone else? Or be relieved to have the day off?”

  I blinked. “What are you going on about?”

  “Blunt then. Okay. Do you have a caterer? Have you even contacted anyone about it? If the answer is no, Wally and I would like to offer the services of the diner to cater your wedding reception—at a premium discount, of course. If not, I need to know who horned in on my territory.”

  “Cater the— OH!” I hurried around to the other chair, and clasped her hands. She got twitchy, but didn’t pull away. “I’ve not had time to even think about it. Well, not for more than two minutes at a stretch. That would be wonderful. Wyatt and I love your food, as do most of Mossy Creek’s residents, and especially the ones who will be at the reception. Thank you, thank you. You are a goddess!”

  She slapped (not very hard) at my hands. “No need to get carried away. Gracious sakes, you’d think I’d offered you a million bucks.”

  “Close enough.” I laughed. “Speaking of bucks, we’ll all have to get together and talk about what, and how many, and how much.”

  “That we will, and you’d better make it soon. You’re running out of days, kid.”

  “I know, I know. It’s giving me fits, but squeezing in personal stuff is hard with everything else going on around here.”

  “How’s— I know you can’t give me specifics, but as a business owner just up the block, I’d be glad of some news of a suspect, at least. Any reason to think our little diner, or any of the other shops, will be next on the hit list?”

  “We’ve got some good puzzle pieces in place. I can tell you that it’s highly unlikely your places are on any list. That’s the best I’ve got.”

  “You and your puzzles.” She crossed her legs and swatted at my arm. “Remember when you and … oh, what was his name? The two of you used to see how quick you could put one together?”

  “Yeah. Dandy’s little brother Devon. Geez, and to think he’s all grown up now, and a husband … and about to be a daddy again, last I heard. Too bad he’s so far away.” Dandelion had been fifteen, Devon only two, when they came to live with their Granda Mayfield after their parents died in a car crash.

  “I wonder if he still does puzzles? Haven’t seen that kid since he decked Wally for stealing his date for the prom.” She laughed. “Funniest thing I ever saw.”

  “Hah. You didn’t think so at the time. You called him some pretty nasty names, and went right over to Granda’s to complain. Very nearly came to blows with Dandy, too, if I recall.”

  “Heeheehee. You’re right. You’re right. Forgot about that part.” Still grinning, Annetta rose. “Well, enough reminiscing. I gotta get back to work. You and that handsome man of yours get yourselves over to my place tomorrow evening, and we’ll hammer out the deets.”

  “How about you and Wally come over to my place? Um….” I glanced at the calendar. “How about next Friday night?”

  “The fourth?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right. We can’t be there until after closing.”

  “No worries. I’ll let Wyatt know you’re coming.”

  “Good. We’ll get this all hammered out and everybody at your reception will be happy.”

  I stood and gave her a hug. “Thanks again, Annetta. You’re a life-saver.”

  She gave my back an awkward pat. “Oh, go on with ya.”

  “What’s this? A public display of affection? Isn’t that frowned upon? Wait ’til I tell Wyatt.”

  “Shut up, Rick.”

  Strolling away, Annetta pointed at him, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll remember that the next time you enter my domain, young man.”

  He grinned. “Uh oh.”

  After she left, he came up to the desk. “I couldn’t find anything on anyone named D. Clifton, or Darren Clifton, on the internet. It’s frustrating.”

  “It is indeed.” I sighed. “But thanks for trying.”

  Chapter 18

  … FRIDAY…

  * * *

  … August 28th…

  * * *

  WHILE WYATT WAS recovering, confined to the house as he was, one team member or another escorted me back and forth to work. They must have figured out a schedule between them because I never knew who was going to show up at my door, but I was certain someone would. And, I wasn’t left alone in the office, either.

  Over the last four days, Wyatt had gotten a massive amount of Get Well cards. And there are so many flower arrangements, the house smells like a funeral parlor.

  Wally and Annetta and Blake stopped by the other night with a couple casseroles of Wyatt’s favorites, and a couple of hoagies. Gage and Dawson, the good sons that they are, had been in and out, keeping Wyatt company.

  How’s that for small town hospitality? Friends and family are wonderful.

  This morning, though, I was driving the man to work. Doc had told him he could return today, but to take it easy, and he was only cleared for light duty. I thought Wyatt should stay home so he’d have the weekend to rest up even more, and be able to start fresh on Monday.

  Yeah, it was a useless suggestion.

  Should have known better.

  He was up and dressed, and had a steaming mug of Maggie’s Choice on my bedside table, before the alarm went off.

  I blearily sniffed at the caffeine. “You’re that anxious to get to work?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed, solemn and serious. “
Babe, I’ve been bored for three days. I would have said four, but I was unconscious for most of the first one.

  “No offense to your boys, or anyone else who stopped by; I appreciated them coming to spend time with me. But I need to get back to the office. We have a murder to solve, and a stalker case that’s gone on too long “What I need you to know” —Wyatt took my hand— “is that I am not the same man I was a couple of days ago. I’m feeling better now, and I like it. Don’t intend to go backwards. Doc says light duty, and I promise”—he kissed my forehead—“I won’t be breaking my profile.”

  “Profile?”

  “A term from my military days. Means limitations or restrictions. People who were injured or ill were said to be on profile.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “Not telling me you aren’t going to patronize, or push the envelope to heal faster. There’s a saying that’s apt for this.”

  “Is there?”

  I nodded. “Time heals all wounds.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Well, then … I thank you, also, for the coffee. But if we don’t want to be late, you need to move your sexy macho tush so I can get up.” Grinning, I took a sip, then pushed at him.

  He wasn’t budging.

  “I’ll have you know, fair maiden, there are other parts of me that would love to push back. And you are in a rather … let’s say … vulnerable position.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then we would be late, for sure.”

  He winked. “Can’t have that now, can we?”

  I put on a pouty-face. “After all that, you’re going to make me wait?”

  “Ah, sweetheart.” Cupping my face. “Don’t you know waiting only makes it better?”

  “Anticipation? Like the ketchup commercial?”

  He made a face.

  I showed him my teeth. “You’re right. There’s another saying, one my mom used a lot cuz I was impatient growing up: Good things come to those who wait.’”

  “Indeed.” He stood. “I will have to thank your mother, next time I see her.”

  “Oh, please don’t.” I rolled my eyes and took a quick hit of the magic wake up potion before heading for the shower.

  It’s not that I’m a grumpy morning person (hush), I just don’t like to get up before the sun, and it takes me at least one cup of java—sometimes more than one—and a shower to be fully awake.

  Okay, almost fully awake.

  He knows that.

  If an emergency arises in the middle of the night—thankfully there haven’t been any more of those recently—I’m alert without the caffeinated boost. Must have something to do with adrenaline.

  Wyatt was finishing his toast when I made it to the kitchen with my empty mug.

  He pointed to a plate. “I made you some, too.”

  I was tempted to ask what his ulterior motive was, but decided to just take his gifts at face value. “Thanks, honey.”

  “You’re welcome.” He leaned over for a kiss,; I obliged. “Anything pressing on today’s agenda?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Not today.”

  “Other days?”

  I took a bite of toast, then talked around it. (Yes, it’s rude, but I was hungry). “Declan’s scheduled to meet with Lavender tomorrow morning, but unless it’s something urgent or you call him directly, he’ll give his report at our Monday morning meeting.”

  He took his plate and cup to the dishwasher. “All right. Sounds like a light day.”

  I studied his back, wanting to comment, but held my tongue. Obviously, he’d rather be bored at work, rather than at home. His choice.

  He glanced at the clock. “Fifteen minutes?”

  “Should be about right.” Brushing teeth and donning shoes wouldn’t take that long.

  “I’ll take Harley out.”

  Sometimes our pooch didn’t cooperate on demand, and it took a bit of cajoling for him to do his thing. Better that Wyatt dealt with him today.

  THE ACTING MAYOR had popped in a few minutes ago. He and Wyatt were behind closed doors. In Wyatt’s office … with the door closed.

  Yes, I did say that already.

  Only bits and pieces could be heard of the conversation—dagnabit—because their voices weren’t carrying as far as I’d’ve liked,

  You know how … inquisitive I am.

  Nosey? Of course not. I like inquisitive better. Makes me sound not so, um. Yeah, inquisitive is a better word.

  The acting-mayor wanted an update on the case. But he also seemed to be rubbing Wyatt’s nose in the fact that he was restricted to the confines of the office. “I need to reiterate just how imperative it is to follow Doc Weston’s protocols regarding your health, Wyatt.”

  But almost in the same breath, the man also voiced concerns as to the integrity of the investigation without Wyatt’s personal handling of the case.

  Seemed a mite contradictory, to me.

  Wyatt assured Elias there was no reason to doubt whether the case would be solved in a timely manner. He also commended the man for the exemplary job the council had done in hiring the new recruits, and even though Wyatt wasn’t personally able to go out on calls, he was keeping his finger on the jugular of the investigation.

  Yes, it’s surprising what one can hear from beyond a wooden door, especially with linoleum floors. Ev-er-y-thing echoes. No wonder the librarians were forever hushing everyone.

  Several minutes later Acting Mayor Heckman, face red and splotchy, was strolling out the front door.

  “Can you believe he used protocols? Geez.”

  “I’m surprised he said reiterate.”

  “You heard that, huh?”

  “Um, yeah. Regardless, it’s only another week.”

  “Not so, sweetums. That’s just for my next appointment.”

  “Exactly. Sweetums? Seriously?”

  “Okay. I’ll take that one back.” He grinned. “But, if I don’t show as much improvement as Doc thinks I should have made, he might refuse to let me walk down the aisle.”

  “Oh, contraire. I will put the kibosh on that real fast.”

  “We’re certainly using some interesting words today.”

  “Yup. Kinda cool, don’tcha think?”

  “Thought-provoking, to be sure.”

  I made my weekly call to the county forensics lab, in case they had an update and hadn’t called us, yet.

  There was one interesting tidbit they shared that about put me on the floor. Another note was found, under the flowers. Yes, it took them that long to get to them. If the flowers hadn’t already been dead, they would be for sure now.

  The male lab tech read it to me:

  * * *

  Just a little taste of what’s to come if you don’t stop, Beth my beauty. You can’t run forever.

  * * *

  Holy Crap.

  Got prints off the box, and both notes. Got DNA off the envelope (idiot licked it to seal it). BUT the lab is backed up. Could take a several weeks to get the results.

  I had a temper tantrum—major no no by the way—on the phone with them.

  “Y’all having a crime wave up there, or what? We sent bullets and bullet casings months ago—and you’re backed up—still haven’t got results for them. Now we send you other evidence, you find more prints—which should be checked for a match with the bullets—and again we’re told Sorry, you have to wait because you’re still backed up. Since January? We don’t send you this stuff because we’re bored. We need answers ... have needed answers. ASAP!”

  The poor guy, who’d had the misfortune to answer the phone, tried to appease my wrath with pat responses.

  I wasn’t in a soothe-ful mood.

  “No, I don’t think you understand at all.”

  Wyatt was eavesdropping, although I was only peripherally aware of it.

  I don’t know if he was surprised by the fact that his calm, cool, and collected (of course I am) Mossy Creek police dep
artment dispatcher (shush) was having a hissy fit on the phone (at that point I didn’t really care), or not. But, taking out my frustrations, anxieties, fears, etc., on the beleaguered lab tech wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had. I just couldn’t hold it inside any longer.

  Take my word for it: Anger never gets you anywhere with the county lab office.

  Clearing his throat, Wyatt got my attention, or at least the acknowledgement of his presence. My head swiveled. His arms were folded/crossed, and he gave me his best cool-your-jets look.

  I squinted, but my shoulders relaxed—somewhat—as I realized my mood was nigh unto broiling. “I apologize,” I told the luckless person on the other end. “Y’all are doing your best, I’m sure. We’re just antsy down here. Could you, at least, put a PLEASE EXPEDITE sticker on everything we’ve sent you? I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”

  After a few more seconds of listening, I hung up with a huff, and turned. Wyatt’s body tensed, as though anticipating a blast of my tempered temper to be directed at him.

  “Thanks, Wyatt. I almost blew it. It’s just so damned—”

  “I know.” He shrugged. “Everybody’s in a hurry. Everybody wants their results yesterday. Those poor lab guys only have so much time. And equipment is limited.”

  I studied him. He was too … placating. “I am very a-ware of that.”

  “I know you are. I want this guy caught, probably more than you do, but badgering the good guys isn’t going to make that happen any sooner.”

  My eyes narrowed. “I know that, too.”

  “Okay. Well. I just—”

  “Before you go.” Deciding to analyze his mood later, I grabbed a message slip. “Lavender called. She asked if you’d stop by.”

  He moved closer. “She say why?”

  “Not really. Just that she found something. She was crying, and it was hard to decipher, but I don’t think she actually told me what she found. Thought I’d let her explain it.”

  “Would you like to go along?” He started to his office, probably for his keys. Then he stopped and turned back, staring at me with an oh, sh*t look. “I can’t go.”