Gone With a Handsomer Man (32 page)

Ava leaned over the railing, her hair trailing down. “What’s going on?” she asked in a sleepy voice.

The bell-ringing continued. “Police!” the deep voice called again. “Search warrant!”

“God,” Ava said and pushed away from the rail. Red Butler darted back to his room. Coop zipped his pants and ran down the stairs. Sir and I were right behind him.

“Police! Open up!”

“Coming!” Coop yelled, then he glanced at me. “Is the alarm on?”

“No.” I handed him the gate key.

He flipped the dead bolt and glanced over his shoulder. “Teeny, just let me do the talking.”

He ran into the corridor. I gathered Sir into my arms, staggering beneath his weight, and walked out.

A man in a blue uniform banged a stick against the gate. “Police!”

Coop unlocked the gate. Across the street, blue lights whirled over the houses. A tall officer held out the warrant. Coop took it. “Come on in, boys,” he said.

Six men shuffled inside. The tall one barked orders, and the men took off in different directions, pulling on plastic gloves.

Coop pulled out his cell phone. The keypad beeped as he punched in numbers. “I’m calling the DA,” he said.

Two officers hurried down the corridor. They stopped as Ava walked out the gray door. She gave them a freezing stare.

“Why are they here?” she asked.

Coop shut his phone. “The DA got an anonymous tip to search your house, Teeny.”

“That sounds dodgy,” Ava said. “What are they looking for?”

“According to the warrant, a gun, marijuana, and photographs of the crime scene—not the official kind.” He paused. “In cop-speak, that means they’re pretty damn sure they’ll find what they’re looking for.”

“They can search all they want,” I said. “I don’t have a thing to hide.” Then I thought of Uncle Elmer’s marijuana and the Templeton cookbook, with its fantastical recipes. I’d left it on the wing chair in the pink living room.

I put Sir in Coop’s arms and ran into the room. The chair was empty. I yanked out the cushion. Nothing. Damn, damn, damn. I should’ve hidden that book. No, I shouldn’t have written those fake recipes in the first place.

From the hall, I heard Ava say, “Do we stand here or what?”

I stepped out of the living room. Coop stood beside her, gripping Sir. “Teeny,” he said, “take Sir for a walk.”

Ava rolled her eyes and walked toward the back door.

“I don’t think it’s a good time,” I said.

“It’s a good time,” he said. “Trust me.”

I grabbed a leash from the hall tree and hooked it to Sir’s collar. I could see through the dining room into the kitchen. The cops were pulling silverware from the drawers and piling it onto the counters. Another officer stood by the desk, looking behind cookbooks.

Coop tapped my hand and gestured for me to follow him to the back door. Sir made little gagging noises as I pulled him along, even though I’d loosened the leash. Ava sat at the dolphin table, talking on her cell phone.

“Stay here, Teeny.” Coop walked into the garden. Ava looked up and smiled. He whispered something in her ear. She nodded and handed him the phone. He walked back into the hall, spoke to a policeman, and lifted my handbag from the bench. He tucked it under my arm and gave me the phone.

“Time for that walk,” he said under his breath. His eyes bored through me.

“Okay,” I said, a little uncertainly. “Come with me?”

“No.”

I started toward the front door, trying to figure out what was going on. His hand closed on my arm. “Not that way. Better go into the backyard,” he said and squeezed my elbow in short, rhythmic bursts.

A cop breezed by, his shoes slapping over the wood. Coop guided me toward the back door. I started to explain how I’d found the plastic bag, but he gave my elbow a sharp pinch. We stepped into the garden and he guided me past Ava, who gave me a pitying stare.

Coop stopped. “Keep walking,” he said, his lips barely moving.

I curved around the sundial, and the phone rang. I’d forgotten that I was holding it. I clicked a button and said, “Coop?”

“Go toward the hydrangeas,” he said.

Sir tugged at the leash, pulling me forward. I walked around the flower beds and glanced over my shoulder. I could barely see Coop.

“Don’t look back,” he said. “Keep walking.”

I stepped past the hydrangeas. Bumblebees circled the heavy blossoms. “Coop, listen. I saw a bag of marijuana in Uncle Elmer’s bathroom.”

“Did you touch it?”

“No.”

“Okay, good.” He exhaled.

“Someone put it there,” I said.

“Teen, listen very carefully. The cops just found a gun. It’s blackened, like somebody tried to set fire to it.”

“I don’t have a gun. I didn’t kill Bing.”

“I know it. But they don’t.” He paused, and in the background I heard a man say, “Where is she?”

“Teeny, they’re going to arrest you,” Coop said.

“I figured that.” I swallowed. “Why did you tell me to take Sir for a walk?”

“Because I know you’re incapable of murder. My need to fix this is greater than my need to follow the law. They haven’t arrested you yet. Leave the dog with Ava. Go someplace safe. I’m going to talk to the DA and see if he’ll hold off the arrest until Natalie wakes up from surgery. When you’re safe, call me. Just hit redial. I’ll be waiting.”

“For what?” Was he was telling me to run for it? If so, this was aiding and abetting—I knew that much from watching
Law & Order.
That carried a prison sentence and made his unprofessional conduct look pretty tame.

“We’ll talk later,” he said.

I stopped by an iron bird feeder and looked back at the patio. It was hidden by low branches of an oak tree. Farther up, hydrangeas spilled out like a petticoat around the trunk.

“Running will make me look guilty,” I said. “They’ll just catch me, and it’ll be a thousand times worse.”

“You’re wasting time.”

“I’m not afraid of jail. I’m afraid you’re doing the wrong thing.”

“It’s the rightest thing I’ve ever done. Listen, I’ve got to talk to the policemen. I’m handing the phone to Ava.”

“Wait!”

There was a scrabbling noise and Ava said, “Teeny?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“The police are searching the house.”

“Yes. Other than that.”

“Where’s Coop?”

“Inside talking to the policemen.”

I looked at the brick wall. It was a foot taller than me. I probably could grab the ivy and pull myself up. But I couldn’t take Sir. I knelt beside him, dropped the phone into my lap, and ran my hand along his back. He was panting hard.

“I’m sorry, little buddy,” I said. He pushed his muzzle against my leg. I kissed the top of his head. Then I glanced up at the house, trying to get one last look, but it was hidden by branches.

Ava’s voice rose up from my lap. “Teeny?”

I picked up the phone and and dropped the leash. “Call Sir.”

“What?”

“Just call him, please.”

I heard her yell his name. Sir didn’t move. “Scoot,” I said, patting his rear end. He looked back at me, then he trotted toward the hydrangeas. A moment later, I heard panting.

Ava said, “There, there good puppy.”

“Ava?” I stood. “Pick up his leash.”

“Got it,” she said. “What the bloody hell is going on?”

“Take good care of him.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m sorry, too,” I said.

“Teeny, what are you plotting?”

“Nothing.”

“Whatever it is, don’t do it,” she said. “You’ll make Cooper’s job five times harder. I’m getting him right now.”

I disconnected the call and dropped the phone into my pocket. I started to leave the purse on the lawn, but I’d need my inhaler and money. I tucked the strap firmly over my shoulder and grabbed a handful of ivy. I was over the wall in a flash.

forty-one

The morning sun pushed down on my head as I worked my way through the narrow gardens that abutted mine. I squeezed through a hedgerow and climbed over another brick wall. A man with a pipe yelled, “If you don’t leave in two seconds, I’m calling the police!”

I cut down a walkway to Bedon’s Alley and stopped next to a brick wall. I stepped into the cool shadows of a live oak, then I started up Elliott Street. The police had set up a barrier at the intersection of Elliott and East Bay. Two policemen blocked reporters. Another officer redirected a carriage. Beyond them, I saw Eileen’s Winnebago.

I ran to Church Street and started down St. Michael’s Alley. My plan was to hide in the church, but it was just too close to the Spencer-Jackson House. The minute the police realized I was gone—if they hadn’t already—they’d shut down the historic district.

A gust of traffic fumes made me dizzy as I walked up Church. Perspiration slid down between my shoulder blades. I turned left onto Broad Street and paused to wipe my face on my blouse. If I kept going north, I’d end up at Queen Street. If Miss Dora wasn’t out gallivanting, she’d hide me. A lot of ifs, but I was out of options.

I blended in with a group of tourists and waited for the light to change. The wind hit the back of my head, and strands of hair whipped in front of me like thin cracks in old china. I’d need to change my appearance. A box of L’Oreal’s Chocolate Espresso would make me unrecognizable.

I reached inside the bag for my sunglasses and saw yellow Splenda packets, a red leather billfold, and keys hooked to a Big Ben chain. This was Ava’s bag. Coop had gotten it mixed up with mine.

Tourists were bent over at a map, and I heard them talking about having lunch at Poogan’s Porch. I tagged along, trying to act normal. If Miss Dora wasn’t home, I’d need to buy a hat and keep mingling with tourists.

I left the Poogan’s Porch people at the corner of Church and Queen and headed toward Johnson’s Row. Miss Dora’s house had been painted dark raspberry, which meant the historical society had vetoed the pink.

Her iron entrance gate stood open. I stepped into the long corridor, then I turned back. Maybe I shouldn’t drag another innocent person into my troubles. But I hadn’t been arrested, so technically she wouldn’t be harboring a fugitive, right? Maybe she could take me to Bonaventure. I could gas up Aunt Bluette’s old Pinto and drive far, far away.

I turned and hurried through the corridor, passing through a square courtyard where a brass pineapple spit water into an owl. I knocked on the French doors. From inside the house, I heard footsteps. Miss Dora opened the door and smiled.

“Come on in, girl,” she said. “Get out of this sickening heat.”

I felt another wrench of guilt as I stepped into the cool foyer. It smelled of potpourri. “Like the new paint?” she asked. “I don’t. The hysterical society pitched the biggest fit you ever saw. I was so put out, I told the painters to paint the stucco Berry Bisque. And I left town.”

“Where’d you go?” I plastered a cheery smile on my face and hoped I didn’t sound as panicky as I felt.

“Sumter.”

“The fort?” I asked.

“No, honey, Sumter’s a little town off I-95. I’d heard about this little antique mall? It’s supposed to have good prices. Ha! Even the junk was sky high. I was so disappointed. The podunk shops know the value of Roseville and McCoy.”

The rise and fall of her voice was soothing. I caught the edge of it and coasted. She led me to her parlor on the second floor. The long windows gave a narrow view of St. Philip’s Church. I guessed the historical society didn’t have a say about what Miss Dora wanted in the privacy of her own home because her parlor was pink.

She saw me looking at the walls and waved her hand, her diamonds catching the light. “Don’t you love the redo?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” I sat on the edge of the pink piano bench.“It looks like something in a magazine.”

“You are
too
kind.” She smiled. “Pale pink and cream are nursery colors. The only thing that saves this room from being babyfied are the Tabriz rugs. They cost a fortune. But they ground the room so nicely. So do the black lamps and pillows. See how I judiciously sprinkled that color around the room? It’s just like pepper. A touch of black adds pep and gravity.”

“It sure is pretty,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. I’d never given a flip for decorating. But it was Miss Dora’s life, and I wouldn’t hurt her feelings for the world.

“How is your cute lawyer?” she asked.

“Fine.” Ava’s purse emitted a low buzz. I reached inside and flattened my palm over the phone, trying to smother the noise.

“Isn’t that your phone?” Miss Dora asked. “Shouldn’t you answer?”

“It’s a telemarketer.”

“Don’t you just
hate
them?” She rearranged two rose figurines on the coffee table, then she glanced up. “You look kind of disheveled. And you’re pale as a haint. Are you feeling poorly?”

“I’m in a rush.”

“Whatever for, darlin’?” She flashed a sharp, shrewd stare.

“Is there any way you can drive me to Bonaventure?” I asked just as casual as if I’d requested a cup of mint tea.

“I thought your lawyer gave you his car. Can’t you drive yourself?”

“It’s on Adgers. I walked here.”

“You trying to lose weight or what?” She smiled.

“I need to go home.”

“But what about your probation?”

“Can’t worry about that.”

She pursed her lips, as if mulling that over. “What’s happened?”

“It’s best if you don’t know.”

“Well, no matter. I’ll be happy to drive you. Just let me fetch my keys. Did you leave your suitcase outside?”

“Didn’t bring one.”

“Then you’re not staying long?” Her brow puckered. “Should I drive you back to the Spencer-Jackson?”

“No, ma’am.”

“But you’ll need some clothes, won’t you?”

“I’ve got plenty at the farm.”

“Teeny, what’s really going on?”

“Please don’t ask.”

“Come on, darlin’. Level with me. You’re violating probation, not to mention leaving your boyfriend, and you’re going without a decent wardrobe?”

“That’s about the size of it.” I stood. “If you’d rather not drive me, I understand. I’ll just make my way to Georgia. And I apologize for barging in like this.”

“Are you telling me everything? Did that lawyer mistreat you? ’Cause if he did—”