Dog Days Page 17

  “And your bridesmaids?”

  “Um. No. I hadn’t planned to invite them.”

  “Oh?”

  I knew the sound of that oh, and it wasn’t a good thing. My head was starting to hurt. “You sound disappointed.”

  “Oh no. No, I’m— It’s just that— Well, it’s your wedding, after all. You can do whatever you like, or whatever you don’t. But—”

  “That’s three.”

  “Three what?”

  “Three sentences you didn’t finish.”

  There was a moment’s pause, then, “Traditionally, the bridesmaids, and the mothers, are invited to the final fitting. It’s … it’s common courtesy.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  (Another sigh, this one out loud.)

  “I’m sorry. Does that upset you?”

  “Mom, I just want something small and intimate. Not an extravaganza.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “You’re very good at that.”

  “At what, dear?”

  “Guilt trips.”

  She tittered (the only word I have for what it sounded like). “Oh, go on.”

  Now I’d have to rethink the whole thing.

  No. No, I won’t rethink anything.

  “You know I don’t mean to interfere, darling. Do what you were going to do before I … butted in.”

  “No, because you’ll go behind my back and invite them, anyway.”

  “I would do no such thing, Magdalena.”

  “Yes, you would. And have.”

  “Honestly, I have never—”

  “Yes. You have.”

  “Name one time.”

  “My first wedding. I told you Uncle Clem and Aunt Jeanine were not invited. You invited them, and there was … pandemonium.”

  A momentary pause. “Oh. That time.”

  “I forgave you.”

  “Eventually.”

  “Doesn’t mean I will again.”

  “I see.”

  “I hope so.”

  “What time? Are you going to pick me up?”

  “Saturday at ten. Actually, I was hoping you could stop and get Harriet, and then come by for me. About 9:30-ish? If you wouldn’t mind? The shop is on Cork Street. That little place on the corner.”

  “The Atrium. Yes, I know where that is. Why of course I can do that.”

  “Great. I thought we’d go for lunch after. My treat.”

  “Oh, honey. You don’t have to pay for my meal.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Mom.”

  A heavy sigh, from her side. “All right. Do it your way.”

  “Great. Thanks for your permission. Dandelion and Lancy better not show up.”

  “Not because of me, they won’t.”

  Crap. That was too qualifying, but I had other things to do, and…. “Thank you, Mom. I love you.”

  “Love you, too, sweetie. Bye, now.”

  The eyes rolled again as I hung up. I had a bad feeling. Wouldn’t put it past her to pester Harriet into talking to the girls … on my behalf. I do love my mother, truly truly I do. She is the sweetest, kindest, well, you get the picture. But, sometimes…. Mom may have a genius IQ, but there are times when I feel like I’m talking to a space monkey. Drives me crazy. Her heart, never a question it’s in the right place, but— ARGH!

  She needs to stop trying to help.

  There was a reason my bridesmaids weren’t coming. Reasons my mother had no business knowing, and no business messing with.

  Geez, not you, too?

  I refuse to be guilted into inviting them. I just wanted the MOMs to be with me for that special time. Is that such a crime?

  Chapter 29

  … TUESDAY…

  * * *

  … September 8th…

  * * *

  THE PHONE RANG and I glanced at the clock—3:30 pm . “Mossy Creek Police Department. This is Maggie. How may I help you?”

  “This is Helen Halloran. We need a police officer over here on Ridgeway Avenue.” My body shivered at the voice, reminiscent of my stalker, but not. “Couple of boys are fighting on the front lawn. I can’t tell from here who they are.”

  “Would you hold a moment, please?” I hit the MUTE button. “Ranger. Two kids fighting on Ridgeway.”

  He grabbed his hat. “Roger that.”

  “Thank you for holding, Miss Helen. There’s an officer on the way. I’ll need your address for the file, please.”

  Twenty minutes later, Paul wrestled a big boy (though not more than twelve), through the door. The boy wasn’t cuffed, but the look on Paul’s face said he was close to being.

  Wyatt, having heard the commotion, came out of his office.

  My eyebrows rose at the younger, smaller boy who slowly followed them in. One look at Josh Jones, and I was around the desk, kneeling in front of him.

  Becca jumped up, sliding a chair in my direction. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

  Paul pointed to a bench near the windows. “Sit!”

  The bigger boy sneered, but obeyed. Officer Lovecchio stood next to him, on alert.

  Wyatt continued into the middle of the room, hands on hips, switching his attention from one boy to the other. He settled his eyes on Ranger. “What’s the deal?”

  “Caught these two still dukin’ it out. Rolling around in the Halloran’s front yard.”

  Wyatt flicked a glance to the boy on the bench. “What’s your name, son?” His tone was polite, but his shoulders were tense.

  The boy’s bloodied lip curled. “I’m not your son.”

  I held my breath. Not a good attitude, kid.

  Wyatt squinted. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m not saying anything until my dad gets here.”

  Hands on hips, the chief of police leaned closer. “Well, since we don’t know who you are, we can’t call him, so I guess you’ll be sitting in a cell for quite a while until you decide which it’s going to be.”

  The kid’s eyes went a wide for a moment, but he fought not to show he was scared.

  I wanted to roll mine.

  Wyatt, about out of patience—I would think—jerked his thumb towards the back room, then turned to Josh.

  Paul grabbed the other boy’s arm, ready to haul him to his feet.

  “Grady.” Josh stared at the sullen boy, and I saw compassion. Of course he was mad, too, but didn’t seem to want his foe to be in a cell. “His name is Grady Manderly.”

  “Manderly? You’re Frank’s kid?”

  Mr. Belligerent sniffed, but remained silent.

  “Okay, then. Josh, you want to tell me what happened?”

  He glared at the bigger boy. “He stole my bike. I wanted it back.”

  Wyatt looked back at Grady, but still talking to Josh. “You took on a kid twice your size? For a bike?”

  That Josh had taken a few punches to the face was evident in the split puffy lip, and an eye going black fast. “It wasn’t his bike.”

  Grady bunched up his mouth, which probably hurt as he too had a split lip, and his nose had bled all over his shirt.

  Secretly impressed with Josh’s chutzpah, I handed him an ice pack. The mom in me cringed at the state of his poor little defiant face. I felt bad for Grady, too, but not quite as much.

  “Now, Josh, you know we’re going to have to call your parents, don’t you?”

  He grinned, wincing when the action made his lip bubble blood again. “Yeah, I know. But I also know you’re gonna have to call his.”

  For the first time, Grady looked a little green, and like he might be even more scared than he was letting on.

  I wondered.

  Moving closer, I crouched next to the bully. “Will you let me get you some ice for your lip?”

  There were the beginnings of tears in his eyes as he nodded slowly. “It was a dare.” His whisper was repentant. “We saw him ride out of the school yard, and Donnie Macklin dared me to get it and take it from him. But then
when we caught up to Josh, and I got the bike, Donnie ran.” His shoulders moved. “Guess he’s a chicken sh— um, coward.” His eyes blinked over to where Josh sat. “I’m really sorry, Josh.”

  Paul patted the kid’s back. “Good job.”

  Wyatt drew in a long breath, and let it out. “Josh, how did you end up way out on Ridgeway from the school?”

  “Um, well. I saw that truck, and started to follow it.”

  “Truck? What truck?”

  “You remember, that truck that almost ran over Miss Maggie, back when all that ice and stuff was on the road. And she fell and hurt her elbow, and … and—”

  I remembered, all too vividly. My elbow still hurt, upon occasion.

  Apparently, as he was nodding, my man did, too. “And you followed it, why?”

  “I wanted to see if I could find out where that guy lived. He pulled into the driveway of that house across from Mr. and Mrs. Halloran. I left my bike leaned up against their Oak tree, and hid behind in the bushes in their yard. I saw the guy go in the house, but then I noticed Grady had my bike. I couldn’t let him get away, so I tackled him.”

  “You said the house is across from the Halloran’s?”

  Josh nodded. “I’m pretty sure the guy doesn’t live there, though.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “Nobody’s lived there for ages.”

  “Do you realize how dangerous that was?”

  Josh blinked at Grady. “I do now.”

  “I mean, what if the driver had seen you, recognized you from when you helped Mag— Miss Maggie?”

  “Oh, um, I hadn’t thought of that. I guess you’re right.”

  Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “Next time, call me. Or call the office here. I know it’ll seem like you’re wasting time, but it’s better than the alternative.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll remember that.”

  Paul looked down at the boy on the bench. “You two want to shake hands now?”

  Grady nodded, and stood slowly. Josh was already halfway across the room, hand outstretched.

  Grady grinned, the split in his lip widened, welling red. “You’re such a skinny runt, I didn’t expect you to come after me.” He touched a finger to his lip. “You hit harder than you look like you can, too.”

  Josh grinned back, apparently not offended. “You look like a bully, but I couldn’t let you take my bike. I had to mow a lot of lawns to buy it.” He leaned in close. “Maybe we should gang up on Donnie.”

  I heard Paul’s snort—turned, coughed, and smiled.

  Grady gave a laugh. “Yeah, maybe we should. It’d serve him right.”

  Wyatt clapped the boys on the back, startling them both. “Okay. Why don’t you two have a seat there, and hash out the details—that I don’t want to know about.” His eyes caught mine. “We still need to call your parents.”

  Nodding, I rounded my desk to make those calls. Both boys nodded, and sat on the bench, where they bent close and commenced to whispering.

  Phone receiver to my ear, I wrinkled my nose at Wyatt. I could tell his tension was gone, and he was smiling. “He’s fine, Dandy. We just need you and Ed to come down and get him.” I hung up, and dialed the Manderlys, conveying the same message.

  “Wiry.” Wyatt chuckled, winking at me when I’d finished. “He’s wiry.”

  I snickered at the reference to an older sports movie we’d re-watched recently, The Replacements. Apparently, from the quiet laughs, and one louder hee hee hee deeper in the room, a few of our crew had seen the same movie.

  Understandably, both sets of parents were upset to have the police department call them down to the station. The boys, in the center of the parental huddle, explained what happened, and that it’s all good, now. The moms were teary-eyed over the state of their baby’s faces. The dads … well, the dads looked a little peacock-y, if you know what I mean.

  Grady ducked under his mom’s arm to approach Wyatt. “Thank you, Chief Madison. You’re pretty okay, for a cop.”

  “Glad we didn’t have to resort a higher level of … discipline.”

  Grady nodded, and cuddled back to his mother’s side.

  I figured when Josh got home, he’d be bragging to Blake and Luke about what had happened. It was almost a sure bet they’d been watching from somewhere nearby. Unless Josh was grounded. Mine would have been, for a few days, at least. Even though the volatile situation had been dampened by good sportsmanship, fighting was still a no no.

  And, if I wasn’t mistaken, Josh had made a new friend, who would soon be introduced to his other two buds. If the four of them went after Donnie….

  Don’t borrow trouble, Maggie Lou. A wise proverb my mother used to quote at me. A lot. Not that it did much good.

  Half an hour later, the two families all trooped out, and sanity reigned in the squad room once more.

  Huh. Sure does sound weird to call it a squad room. Kinda cool, though.

  Wyatt stepped up to the desk. “We need to find out who that house belongs to.”

  “Yes, we do.” Guess I’d be contacting the Courthouse in the morning, records and deeds division.

  He turned. “Rick, Paul? Take a ride out to the house. Check it out, will ya? See what you can see. Find stuff out.”

  “Roger, boss.”

  Chapter 30

  … WEDNESDAY…

  * * *

  … September 9th…

  * * *

  AT 10 AM, I called the Land and Records Office downtown. Ann Pritchard answered the phone. She knows me, sort of. She’s a friend of a friend of my mother’s. I introduced myself, and explained why I was calling.

  “Oh, hello, Magdalena. I’d love to oblige, but although they are public records, I’m not allowed to give out that information over the phone. You understand. You’ll have to come down and go through the records yourself. We’ve got almost all of it on the computer now. Only the really really old stuff isn’t done, yet. But we have that in boxes in the basement.”

  My eyes rolled. “Okay. Thank you, Ann.”

  “Now, we’re closed for lunch from 11:30 to 12:30, every day. And we close at 4:30.”

  “I appreciate the information.”

  “Good to hear from you, Magdalena.”

  “You, too, Ann. By now.”

  “B’bye.”

  I took my new knowledge to the boss man.

  “So, when you do want to go?”

  “I thought I’d go right after lunch.”

  “You’re not going alone.”

  I knew that. “No. Apparently not.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.”

  “You’re going with me?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Don’t you think we’d be a bigger target if we’re together?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “You’re talking about your stalker.”

  I made a face. “Please, don’t call him mine.”

  “Okay. Poor choice of words.”

  “But, yes. Him.”

  “I’m armed.”

  “And I appreciate that, but they will disarm you at the courthouse.”

  “I’m the chief of police. If I can’t open carry at that building, we’re in serious trouble.”

  “Wyatt.”

  “If I have to leave it with one of the guards, so be it. Besides, if what’s-his-face follows us in, the guards will take him down.”

  “Unless he gets them, and us, first. Element of surprise, and all.”

  He stared at me for a few seconds. “Take one of the others, then.”

  Wow. First my mom, now Wyatt.

  I perched on one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Am I being bossy?”

  “You have been known to be.”

  “I know that. I mean, right now.”

  “You’re demanding, right now.”

  “Come on. Please?”

  “What?”

  My eyes closed for a five-count beat. “I’d like you to go with me to the courthouse.”

  “What’s
going on, babe?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “No. Seriously. You’re just the second person in as many days who made me feel guilty about something I said.”

  “I made you feel guilty?”

  “Yeah. Sort of.”

  “How?”

  “You know I go with my gut on a lot of things.”

  “I do know. And you’ve saved a lot of us a lot of grief because of it.”

  “Well, this courthouse thing? My gut’s telling me you shouldn’t go. But—”

  “Babe. It’s fine. I don’t have to go, but please take one of the guys with you. Not that the girls couldn’t protect you, I’d feel better if you were with Rick, or Paul, or Declan.”

  “Court?”

  “Okay. Court, too.”

  EVENTUALLY, WE DID get to the courthouse, but didn’t leave the office until after 2:30. Wyatt sent Gus with me as the guys were all otherwise occupied. We jumped in her police cruiser and cranked up the A/C. It only took us about ten minutes to reach our destination.

  According to the property records office, the house in question was purchased in 1967, by a Fred and Hazel Bowen, and was still deeded to them. Our next stop was the Office of Vital Statistics, where we found that both were deceased; Hazel being the most recent in 2007. It also listed her maiden, and previous married names.

  I had some questions for Ann Pritchard.

  “Of course. How can I help you?”

  “The owners of record are deceased. What happens to the property? As far as I know, the house is vacant, and there is no record that it was sold or deeded to anyone else. How would one go about finding the person responsible for maintaining the property, paying the property taxes, etc. If a person wanted to buy it, how would they find out who they could buy it from?”

  “Well, could be a relative is paying the taxes on it. As long as those are paid, we don’t really need to know if it’s occupied. I would imagine a realtor could find out what’s necessary for purchasing the property, who to contact, etc.”

  “Thanks for your help, Ann.”

  I called Wyatt. “Hey. We’re almost back.”