Death and Relaxation (32 page)

“Somebody shot me,” I mumbled.

Myra’s hand returned to feel my forehead. “I know,” she said. “Have you taken any medicine?”

“Not since the hospital. Dan doesn’t hate me that much.”

“Did they send you away with pills? Delaney? Look at me.”

I raised my eyes. Or opened them. I wasn’t sure which.

“Where are your pills?”

“Coat.” Then she was gone, which was too bad, because I was hoping she’d stay and help me crawl under the mattress so I could suffocate my pain away.

I worked on pushing myself back a bit. Whimpered as I lifted my legs up onto the bed, but didn’t barf. I was calling that a win.

I was trying to get under the covers when Myra appeared again. She pushed the covers clear, baring sheets that were light blue with tiny pink flowers on them. Myra might come across as stern or unemotional to most people, but I was pretty sure she was the softest heart out of all of us Reeds.

Especially in private. I wouldn’t be surprised if the nightgown I was wearing was frilly with lace and bows.

“Delaney? Are you listening? Come on, honey. If you don’t take these pills, I’m going to drive you back to the hospital.”

“No,” I said. “No hospital. I can take the pills.”

She handed me a cup of water. “Open your mouth.”

I did, not even complaining that she was treating me like a child.

She dropped two pills in my mouth and I drank enough water to wash them down and then drank a little more, hoping that it would settle my stomach.

“Just lean back. Easy.” She guided me down to the cool sheets and soft pillow, and the relief of being horizontal was immense. I shut my eyes, listening to her move around the small room.

“My?” I asked.

She hummed from the far corner of the room. There wasn’t a bathroom attached to this room, so I wasn’t sure what she was doing there.

“I think Dan was angry.”

She sniffed. “Yeah?”

“I’ve seen him that angry before. Red face. Shaky hands. Yelling.”

The bed dipped as she sat down beside me. “Yeah. So have I.” Her hand was at my forehead again, even though I was pretty sure I didn’t have a fever.

“He’s never shot anyone when he was that angry. Not once.”

“I know.”

“Why did he do it this time?”

“I don’t know, Delaney. You said he was mad about the contest.” Her fingers stroked my head, smoothed my hair.

The pain meds crept out over my muscles, easing. The soft sheets, soft bed, and soft blankets worked their own unique magic on me.

“Sleep.” She sounded a hundred miles away. “And no sneaking out this time.”

I finally figured out the noise she had been making. She was booby-trapping the room so she’d hear me if I got up. The window was over in that corner. She was probably setting it up so I’d have to push a wind chime out of the way if I tried to open it.

“Paranoid,” I mumbled.

“Druggy. Sneaky. Prone to bar fights.”

“I don’t think Dan shot me.”

“It looked like Dan shot you.”

I thought that over for a while, my brain slowing and slowing.

“Yeah, but this is Ordinary.”

When I didn’t continue, she said, “And?”

“And nothing in Ordinary is ever how it really looks.”

Chapter 26

I REMEMBERED Myra waking me up for more pills. I told her to leave me alone, but most of my words got stuck in the pillow I’d dragged over half of my face.

When I finally woke enough to push the pillow away, it was hours later, and I decided a trip to the bathroom was a really good idea. A wide strip of bubble wrap was stapled outside the bedroom door, long enough I couldn’t just hop over it.

“Really?” I stepped on it, and half a dozen air chambers popped. I smiled at Myra’s alarm system. Took another step and set off another round of popping.

“Delaney, dear?” Pearl appeared in the hallway with a cup of tea. “I was just going to try to wake you up.”

“Hey, Pearl.” I shuffled toward the bathroom. “Did Myra make you babysit?”

“You know I’m always happy to help. I thought my medical background might be useful. I’ll change your bandage when you’re ready.”

“Hold on a sec. I’ll be right out.”

I made use of the facilities then stared at my reflection in the mirror while I washed my hands in warm water.

I tended to freckle, but my job kept me outdoors enough that I maintained a tan under all my spots. Right now I was sheet-white against medium brown hair that seemed too dark, my blue-green eyes gone almost gray.

If I had met me on the street, I’d say I’d had a couple of bad days. I’d also sit myself down and insist I eat a solid meal and get some sleep.

My stomach was twitchy at the very idea of food, but I’d probably have to take my meds again soon anyway, and I hadn’t eaten anything since the half peanut butter sandwich at the hospital.

I wanted a shower more than food, but I couldn’t remember if bathing was approved with the hole in my side.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Delaney?”

I opened the door. “Sorry. Moving kind of slow. What time is it?”

“Twelve thirty.”

“In the afternoon?” I asked, shocked.

“Yes.”

“Is it Friday?”

“Saturday.” She held a cup out for me and I took it.

The inviting fragrance of tea with sugar and cream wafted up to me, and I wondered why I never drank tea. I took a sip, then another, as warmth spread out from my chest and my fingers soaked in the cup’s heat.

Pearl walked away, leaving me there to lean on the sink with my tea. When she came back, she was carrying a kitchen chair.

“Sit there. I’m going to get a blanket, then take a look at your wound.”

Pearl was kind and efficient and impossible to say no to. She checked my ribs, gave me my pills, then sent me into the shower, promising to re-bandage my wound when I was done.

The combination of hot water, pain pills, and tea cleared my head.

It was Saturday. I’d missed the sunrise blessing of the regatta that signaled the beginning of the Rhubarb Rally. I’d missed the first day, and now half of Saturday. The rally would be in full swing, with rides, food, entertainment, and local businesses representing their wares.

Myra and Jean would be busy policing the crowd, probably with Ryder and Roy. No one would be at the station, except for Dan Perkin, who should still be in the holding cell.

I got out of the shower and into the clothes I’d worn from the hospital. I wandered into the kitchen, where Pearl had a bowl of oatmeal waiting for me. She’d arranged the raisins in the bowl to make a smiley face.

“I hope you like it that way.” She handed me a spoon as a not-so-subtle hint that I should eat.

The buttery-smooth porridge was just the right amount of sweet and nutty. My appetite that had been missing in action suddenly roared back to life. “I need to fill out some paperwork on the shooting,” I lied as I finished the last bit, standing at the kitchen counter.

Pearl walked toward me, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “Is that what you want me to tell Myra when she calls?”

“Would you just tell her I’m on the couch sleeping?”

“Delaney. I don’t think you are…steady enough to be on your own today. Are you doing something you don’t want your sister to know about?”

“Maybe a little. I want to go talk to Dan. I think… I don’t think he’s really the kind of guy who would shoot someone.”

Pearl looked down at her hands, and a frown tugged her mouth.

“Do you know something about this, Pearl?”

She shook her head, her eyes finally drawing back up to mine.

“He’s… I know he’s a trouble maker. Too angry at…everything. But I’ve never seen him resort to violence before.”

“Okay. That’s good to hear. Is there anything else?”

“I don’t think Chris Lagon was responsible for blowing up Dan’s rhubarb patch.”

It seemed like an odd jump in the conversation, but I followed along. “Do you know who might be?”

She nodded, an almost imperceptible movement.

I waited.

“Dan,” she said.

“Dan what?”

“I believe he blew up his own rhubarb.”

“He… Okay. Why would Dan do that?”

“By accident. I think…” She seemed to make up her mind, and all hesitancy disappeared. “I think he had bought the dynamite and planned to blow up something else but changed his mind.”

“What something else?”

“Chris’s tanks. Not all of them, but the ones containing his rhubarb beer. I think he was experimenting with how much dynamite he’d need to take out his competition. Not Chris—just the beer. And it backfired.”

It made a certain sense. Dan had jumped on the chance to lay the explosion blame on Chris—an easier and less violent way to take out his competition, which suited Dan’s style. But Chris had his alibi for not being available to set the dynamite in Dan’s yard. Chris was with Margot Lapointe.

“Did Dan tell you that?”

“No. But he mutters to himself when he’s angry. And he’s always angry.” She smiled almost fondly, and I found myself amazed at her capacity for patience. “I heard him while I was working in my flowerbeds. At first, I thought he was arguing with someone, but when I looked over in his yard, he was arguing with himself.”

“About blowing up Chris’s beer?”

“About if he should test it on his own rhubarb.”

“Did he actually mention the dynamite?”

“No. But very early the next morning, he was out in his backyard, and that was when the explosion happened. I hadn’t put together that he might have blown up his own garden. I mean, who does that sort of thing?”

“Dan.” I sighed. “That’s the sort of thing I’d expect from him.”

She nodded. “That’s what I’d been thinking. But I didn’t have proof. But if you’re doubting that he shot you, I thought you should know I’m doubting his story about the explosion.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you, Pearl. It helps.”

She folded her hands in front of her again. “You’re still going, aren’t you?”

The song of Heim’s power was filling my head again. Not to the point of pain, but it was a pressure I couldn’t duck. I had two days to find the mortal the power belonged to and still had no idea how to do that. If I wanted any time alone with Dan, it would have to be now.

Dan was the beginning of all this, and I’d just have to start with him and see if I could unravel the week’s events.

I tucked my hair back behind one ear, wishing I had a rubber band. “Dan will be transferred to the valley on Monday. Now would be best. Plus there really is paperwork I need to work on. If I get tired, I’ll nap on the cot.”

“I don’t like it, but it’s not like I can tie you up. Let me get your medicines.”

“Thanks,” I said, getting into my coat. “Um, can I ask a favor?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I won’t lie to your sisters.”

“I know. Would you mind driving me home? I’m going to need my car.”

Chapter 27

IT TOOK three times as long as normal to drive the short distance to my house. The day had turned out pleasant and sunny. Good weather on a weekend meant people were pouring into Ordinary for the festival.

That made for a nice spring kickoff for local businesses. But for the regulars who lived here, it meant suddenly living in an overpopulated town that wasn’t quite big enough to handle the influx.

Pearl dropped me off in my driveway, and I ducked out of her car repeating that I was fine and I was going to be fine, and if I wasn’t fine, I’d call her.

She drove off and I walked over toward my parked Jeep.

Two steps across the crunch of gravel and a wave of nausea hit me.

Dan screaming, holding the gun at arm’s length as if it were a stick he could stab me with. Death looming behind me, an oddly comforting shadow.

Then Dan squeezed the trigger.

I planted one hand on the hood of the Jeep and opened my mouth for air, pushing that visceral memory away. The scent of pine and salt tasted like blood on my tongue.

Hold it together,
I told myself.
Take this one step at a time.

I breathed until my hands stopped shaking, then crouched to pull the spare keys out from the magnetic holder in the wheel well. Once inside the car, I studied the area from a cop’s perspective. Dan had been standing in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Than and I had been near the stairs leading up to my house.

There was a dark stain on the gravel that must be my blood.

A sick chill washed over me, and I leaned my head against the steering wheel until the nausea passed. I was fine now. Everything was fine.

I looked back up and wiped sweat from my forehead.

Think. If Dan’s gun wasn’t loaded, where did the bullet come from?

The end of the cul-de-sac was hemmed by coastal pines, Oregon grape, and salal bushes. Far below that was the beach and ocean.

The house across the street was an empty vacation home built far enough off the road that several trees and bushes obscured the face of it.

Someone could have hidden there on the walk, or porch, or behind the bushes. What were the chances someone with a loaded gun was lurking behind Dan?

Out here in the light of day, it seemed like a far-fetched idea. But then, this was Ordinary. Far-fetched was sort of our middle name.

“Dammit.” I dug a clean plastic sandwich bag out of my glove box and got out of the Jeep. I walked to the neighbor’s house, scanning the ground. The gravel didn’t seem disturbed. The bushes weren’t broken. I paced a grid of the cul-de-sac, slowly covering the area. Any evidence from the shooting would have been found by Myra, Jean, and the crime scene techs.

The road was churned from the vehicles that had come and gone since I’d been shot, obscuring tire tracks and footprints.

Maybe Dan did it. Maybe he was angry enough about not winning the contest that he shot me.

The wind stirred and a flash of color under the glossy leaves of a salal bush caught my eye. I bent, groaned at the pressure in my side, and picked up the item with the baggy.

It was a thin purple feather. Weird.

I dropped the feather into the bag and tucked it in my coat. I scanned the area one more time, but didn’t find anything else. Time to go talk to Dan.