Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 05 - Just Ducky (24 page)

“How did the bomb get in my car?” I asked Stone.

“I’m sure whoever planted it followed you here from the inn. The Duckworthy home is secluded enough from the view of any nearby residents. They could have attached the bomb to your motor while you were inside talking to Quentin and left before you came back outside. Wiring a car bomb is not a particularly lengthy task if you know what you’re doing. The person responsible, naturally, had no idea you’d choose to use a remote starter, but thank God you did.”

“It was strictly out of habit,” I said. “The car wouldn’t have had time to even begin to warm up by the time I got in it. But my mind was on other matters at the time.”

I didn’t want to cause any friction between Stone and Quentin, so I didn’t elaborate on why my mind was a million miles away from what I was doing. With that thought in mind, I glanced over to where Quentin was standing, leaning against the hood of Ducky’s VW Bug. It was a pretty pastel yellow in color, and probably no more than a couple years old. With Ducky working five blocks from home, I doubted it could have many miles on the odometer. It was a cute little car that I could see myself driving, now that my convertible was history.

I motioned Quentin over to ask him the price of the car. Stone agreed with me that the amount he offered to sell it to me for was a very good deal. I told Quentin to take the “For Sale” sign down and I’d bring him a check the following day when I came to pick up my new car. I was going to need a new vehicle as soon as possible anyway, and I’d feel proud and a little nostalgic owning Ducky’s Beetle.

Stone rode with me in the ambulance. Quentin had told him to leave his truck in his driveway and he’d keep an eye on it until Stone could reclaim it. Wyatt said he’d assist Stone in picking the truck up later on in the evening, and then returning for the Volkswagen the following morning if I was unable to drive.

I couldn’t depend on Stone to chauffeur me everywhere like I was Miss Daisy, but with my car in an urn, or wherever they put the ashes of a cremated sports car, I wouldn’t have any other option. So, I thought purchasing Ducky’s car made perfect sense, and solved my sudden transportation problem.

* * *

Not surprisingly, I was greeted warmly by the entire emergency room staff, who had not only heard about the explosion, which was all over the local news, but were also making bets on whether I’d be making my second trip to the emergency room in the same week. Several of the hospital employees looked entirely too happy to see me arrive in the back of an ambulance, so I knew which way their bets had been made.

Fortunately, most of my wounds were superficial, including, as I expected, the laceration on my forehead. The only area that needed more intensive treatment was my thigh. The doctor anesthetized the area before carefully retracting the piece of metal buried deep in my thigh. As the nurse sewed in eighteen stitches to close up the wound, the smiling young doctor said, “This scar shouldn’t affect you too much, except during bikini season.”

“Don’t worry,” I replied. “You won’t be seeing this body in a bikini until I lose about fifteen pounds and twenty years!”

Chapter 15

I woke myself up by groaning Saturday morning, wondering if anyone got the license tag number of the Mack truck that must have run me down while I was sleeping, backed over me, and then run me down again. Every bone, joint, and muscle in my body was stiff and sore. As it had turned out, my ankle hadn’t been sprained, only wrenched, and it felt as if I could at least put some weight on it now.

On the nightstand next to my side of the bed, was a whistle on a lanyard. It was the kind an umpire would use to signal a foul had been committed. By the way I felt, I was sure a vast number of fouls had been committed against me. My head was throbbing, my arms were itching from all the tiny abrasions, and the pain in my stitched up thigh was almost enough to make me holler out in agony. Even my eyelashes had developed a tic, not in a painful way, but just the type of incessant twitching that could drive a person absolutely batty.

Stone had placed the whistle on the table the evening before, after Wyatt had carried me up to bed. I’d felt like a rag doll in the detective’s arms. Stone had made me promise I’d blow the whistle when I was awake and ready for a cup of coffee, or if, at any other time, I needed his assistance. I felt like a royal pain in the tush when I did exactly as he’d requested. I wasn’t sure I could make it down the stairs quite yet, but I wanted a cup of coffee bad enough to attempt walking a tightrope across the Grand Canyon to get one.

But first, I needed to do something to dull the pain I was experiencing. Next to the whistle, there was a small glass of water and a bottle of pain pills. I swallowed a Percocet with a gulp of water, and then blew just hard enough into the whistle to produce a pitiful-sounding screech.

Within a minute or two, Stone was kissing me on the top of my head and handing me a steaming cup of my favorite brew. He’d come upstairs instinctively knowing what I wanted. He asked how I was feeling, helped me change the dressing on my thigh, and checked for any bruising or swelling in my ankle.

“You’re not getting out of this bed today, Lexie, except to use the restroom. I’ll be finishing up the remodeling project on the
Honeymoon Suite
so it will be ready for our weekend guests. You can whistle any time you need something, even if it’s just help to get to the bathroom, or for a refill on your coffee. Okay?” He asked. After I nodded my head, he continued, “I’m going to bring you up some toast, and a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. Is there anything else you’d like?”

“No, that sounds great. I am a little hungry. Thanks for taking care of me the way you do. I appreciate you more than I can say. You’re always so good to me, honey.”

“That’s what I get for promising to take care of you in our wedding vows. I’m just happy the ‘until death do we part’ clause didn’t come into effect yesterday. And I hope you aren’t planning on bringing the ‘sickness and in health’ thing into play very often either,” Stone said, as he massaged my aching back.

I knew he was kidding, but I also knew he would always take care of me, no matter what the future brought. His tenderness only made me love him even more than I already did. And I’d thought we’d already crossed the love threshold, maxing out its potential. Now I wasn’t sure there was even a limit to the love between this wonderful man and myself.

“I love you, Stone, and I’m sorry this happened. I really didn’t mean to provoke a reaction like that from the killer.”

“Alleged killer, you mean. We have no proof the car bomb was rigged by the same person who killed Ducky. But someone obviously meant to do you harm, and he or she is still out there. So, promise me you won’t leave the Alexandria Inn without me until there’s a suspect in custody.”

“I promise. Did Wyatt say the police department was reopening the case now?” I asked.

“He hasn’t said, but he called this morning and said he’s coming over in an hour or so to talk with us. He wants to get a detailed statement from you and go from there. When he arrives, I’ll bring him up here so you don’t have to use the stairs. In the meantime, I want you to eat your breakfast, and then rest, watch television, read a book, or do something else that’s relaxing. I’m sure that somewhere amongst the hundreds of cable channels, you’ll find an episode of
The Housewives of Some-damn-where
.”

Stone propped the pillows up behind my back, handed me the remote control, tucked the blankets around my legs, and kissed me before leaving the room. As he had stood up, he’d given me the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture with his index and middle fingers pointed at his eyes, and then at mine. I laughed and threw a throw pillow at him, making sure to use the pink and purple frilly one he found completely emasculating.

* * *

“May I speak with Mr. Tucker, please?” I asked the receptionist who answered the phone. I could hear lively talking and laughing in the background. I wished I was in the mood to laugh and had something amusing to laugh about, because at the moment I could think of nothing at all humorous about my situation.

“Yes, ma’am, if you don’t mind holding for a moment. He’s just finishing up with another caller.”

I had decided it was a good opportunity to bite the bullet and call my new boss. I knew I probably wasn’t his favorite person at the moment, but I had to speak to him about the possibility I wouldn’t be filling the head librarian job on Monday when the library reopened. I waited a good five minutes before Colby Tucker finally came on the line. I had grown weary of listening to people enjoying themselves. It was the first time I could remember wishing I had elevator music to entertain me while I waited.

“Hello, Colby Tucker speaking,” he said.

“Good morning, Mr. Tucker. This is Lexie Starr. I hope you’re feeling better than you were the last time I saw you. I can’t apologize enough for my chicken fiasco. I had no idea it would make anyone sick. I am so, so sorry!”

“No worries, Ms. Starr. I’ve completely recovered and feel wonderful this morning. I read the article in the
Rockdale Gazette
a few minutes ago about your car being blown up yesterday. I hope you’re doing okay. What an awful thing to happen. It sounds like someone was trying to kill you. You know, kind of like you were trying to kill me Saturday night.”

“Oh, Mr. Tucker, Again, I’m so sorry. You surely know I had no intention of—”

“Relax, Lexie, I was just pulling your leg. I realize it was an accident, and I hold no animosity toward you whatsoever. God knows it wasn’t the first time I’ve had salmonellosis, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. For some reason, I tend to fall victim to food poisoning quite often. But I feel fine now, so don’t give it another thought.”

I wasn’t surprised to hear that Colby got food poisoning frequently, the way he ate everything in sight. I imagined if you’d put salt and pepper, and a fork, next to a bucket of night crawlers, he’d eat them too. But if he didn’t want me to give it another thought, I was more than happy to change the subject.

“Well, I’m relieved to hear you feel all right now. I’ve been worried about you. Now with this car-bombing incident, I’m worried about me, as well. I’m not sure it would be safe for me to be out in public until the suspect is apprehended. I’m pretty sure the same person who killed Ducky also rigged the bomb to my car. I think they’re aware of my desire to prove she was murdered, and they obviously feel threatened by that fact.”

“I recall you saying you didn’t believe she’d taken her own life at supper the other night, but I personally think you’re barking up the wrong tree. I feel certain whoever planted a bomb in your car had nothing to do with Ducky’s death. The investigators ruled her death a suicide, and I’d leave it at that. There’s no sense in wasting your time trying to prove otherwise. And if the car-bombing was related to her death, why would you want to put yourself in that kind of peril when, no matter how she died, nothing is going to bring her back? It’s just not worth the effort, or the risk you’d be taking by pursuing the matter.”

I didn’t care at all for his dispassionate demeanor, but arguing with him wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I decided to try another tactic in explaining why I most likely would not be showing up to work at the Rockdale Public Library on Monday morning.

“Well, not only do I feel threatened by an unknown perpetrator, and do not want to put myself in any unnecessary danger, I’m also in pretty rough shape from injuries I sustained yesterday when my car exploded no more than thirty or forty feet from where I was standing,” I explained. “I’m not sure I’ll even be able to walk by Monday. I suffered a nasty laceration to one leg, and tweaked the ankle on my other one. Not to mention the headache I have from the gash in my forehead.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear about the severity of your injuries, Lexie, but I don’t know who I can get to fill your shoes with such short notice,” Mr. Tucker said. “I wish I’d known sooner.”

Apparently, I was expected to schedule the car bombing incident at a more opportune time for him, or at least let him know a week ago that it was going to happen. Where were my manners, anyway?

“I’m sorry. I know this is an inconvenience, Mr. Tucker, but it came as a surprise to me too, and there’s little I can do about it. How about Paul Miller? He’s worked at the library for years, and I’m sure he could handle things until a permanent replacement can be found or a suspect is apprehended.”

“I was under the impression Mr. Miller was not much of a people person. You have to be at least a little sociable, a little personable, and be able to deal with the public to fulfill the duties of head librarian,” he said.