Murder for Choir (24 page)

I parked my car and walked down Millie’s driveway to retrieve the newspaper. Maybe reading about other people’s problems would take my mind off my own. If not, the television schedule would come in handy.

Today, the paper had been less than expertly flung onto the grass a couple steps to the left of the mailbox. Aunt Millie’s mailbox was always the landmark I used to help people find the place. It was big and white and shaped like a poodle. An enormous glittery pink bow sat on top of the dog’s head. The mailbox door was crafted to look like the pooch’s mouth, and the flag was the dog’s tail. Tacky didn’t even begin to describe it. I was constantly amazed the neighbors didn’t pay a couple kids to play mailbox baseball and take the thing out.

A piece of notebook paper was wedged under the postal pup’s pompon tail, and I reached over to grab it. I unfolded the note and wished I hadn’t. The note read:
You’ve been warned.

Lovely. As if my day wasn’t crappy enough.

Sighing, I shoved the note into my pocket and bent down to grab the paper as a loud pop rang out. A clump of dirt and grass kicked up next to me. A second later, the mailbox’s pink bow went flying.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

I turned and started running toward the house as a chunk of the dog’s tail bit the dust. Someone in the neighborhood had a gun, and they were shooting at me.

I counted two more shots as I raced up the driveway. The front door was locked. Fishing out my keys and fumbling to unlock the door seemed like an excellent way to get pegged in the ass. Since I wasn’t interested in doing an impression of a duck in a shooting gallery, I veered to the left and raced around the side of the house.

Shit. The living room doors were locked.

Heart pounding in time with my feet, I reached the oak fence Millie installed when she got Killer. I glanced over my shoulder. No one was there, but I wasn’t about to take any chances. I backed up a couple steps and took a running leap at the fence. My fingers grabbed the top of the fence, and my feet desperately tried to get traction on the wooden slats as I worked to climb over the top. My arm muscles felt like they were ready to snap, but I wasn’t going to give up. Giving up on this workout might result in death. And right now I was certain of only one thing: Death was bad.

My right foot found a foothold, and using my legs and
protesting arm muscles, I pulled my body up and over the fence. Oof. I landed with a thud in the middle of an evergreen bush.
Yeouch!
Needles dug into my neck as I rolled off and into a bed of fresh mulch. Ick. Ick. Ick.

I pushed up to my knees and came nose to nose with Killer. He bared his teeth and started to growl. The teeth were still big. The growl was still menacing. But I’d been shot at, I’d been scratched, and I was covered in manure-laced mulch. My ability to care about whatever was stuck up Killer’s butt was minimal at best.

I scrambled to my feet, gave Killer a kiss-off look, and bolted to the back door. The minute I was inside, I reached for my cell and dialed 911. The operator answered before I had a chance to catch my breath. After saying my name for the third time and getting “Could you say it again, please?” as a response, I hung up and dialed Detective Mike. The man was a menace, but he had a gun. At this moment, that counted for a lot.

“Did you steal more evidence?” was his greeting.

The fact that he had my number memorized or programmed into his phone was something I’d think about at another time. At the moment I was focused on the big picture. “Someone shot at me outside Aunt Millie’s house,” I managed to say in between gasps for air.

“Where are you now?” The sarcasm disappeared, and the professional-cop persona took over. It made me feel better to hear someone sound in control. Control was something I was seriously lacking.

“I’m in the house.”

“Is your aunt home?”

“I think so. Killer is in the backyard.” Although Millie didn’t come running at the sound of gunfire. Maybe she was
in the shower. The idea that the shooter might have gotten to her first twisted in my stomach.

“Find her and stay away from windows until I get there.”

Mike disconnected, and I followed instructions. Keeping myself as far away from windows as possible, I went in search of my aunt. I found her in one of the spare bedrooms. She was walking on her treadmill in a hot pink sports bra that pushed her ample cleavage up to her chin. The white spandex short shorts she had squeezed into were slightly transparent and at least two sizes too small. Millie didn’t seem to care that they showed off her purple-and-yellow-flowered underwear as she jammed out to her iPod. The two glassy-eyed pugs sat facing the treadmill. Each was sporting a pink bandana and tiny leg warmers. I sagged against the door and smiled as my aunt noticed me.

Millie whacked the off button and pulled her earbuds out of her ears. “What have you been up to this morning?” She grabbed a towel off a white wicker chair and flashed a mischievous smile as she gave my appearance a once over. “Have you been rolling in the dirt with a sexy drama teacher?”

“Someone shot at me at the bottom of the driveway. I fell into the mulch while running away.” Millie dropped the towel, and her eyes went wide with fear. I hurried to add, “Detective Kaiser is on his way over. He said to stay away from the windows until he arrives.”

Millie swallowed hard and hurried over to give me a tight, sweaty hug. When she pulled back, bits of mulch had transferred onto her sweat-coated skin. “Thank God you weren’t shot.” She peered into my face and asked, “Are you okay?”

Clearly, my acting skills weren’t up to par in a crisis. “I’m
fine now. Unfortunately, your mailbox might need to be replaced.”

“They shot Bitsy?”

I nodded. Millie had named the mailbox after a dog from her youth. Given the glittering of her eyes and the clenching of her jaw, I’d say she wasn’t happy about losing Bitsy a second time.

Thank goodness the doorbell rang, cutting off whatever tirade Millie was about to embark on. I bolted down the stairs and looked through the peephole just in case the shooter had decided to get closer to the target. Two uniformed police officers, a tall middle-aged guy and a short just-out-of-college chick, were standing on Millie’s stoop. I unlocked the door and opened it.

“Paige Marshall?” The tall, blond guy looked over my mulch-covered self with a frown.

I nodded as I stood on my tiptoes and looked for Detective Mike charging up the driveway. Mike was nowhere in sight.

“Detective Kaiser said you reported shots fired at this address. Since we were in the area, he asked us to check it out. I’m Officer Higgins. My partner is Officer Andreas.”

A bubble of disappointment burst inside my chest. I’d been shot at by a homicidal maniac, and the guy who just kissed me senseless wasn’t coming to make sure I was okay. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. Yep. I was a complete schmuck.

Taking a deep breath, I gave the cops a rundown of the shooting. Didn’t see anyone or anything. Too busy saving my own butt to be observant. Officer Higgins told me to stay indoors. Then he hitched up his belt and trotted down the driveway to check out the mailbox. Officer Andreas gave me what I assumed was designed to be a reassuring smile. The freaked-out look in her
eyes ruined the effect. Guess there weren’t a lot of shootings in this section of town.

Officer Higgins hiked back up the driveway and went around the side of the house. After a minute he reappeared. “I need to check the backyard.”

I led the two cops through the kitchen to the back door as my aunt made an appearance. She had changed out of her workout garb and was now wearing white lounging pants, a pink sequined tank, and a white satin kimono. A pink belt was wrapped tight around her waist. Too bad the flip-flops ruined the great Karate Kid motif she had going.

Officer Higgins stepped outside, and I heard a growl. Killer regarded anything he peed on to be his own personal territory. Trespassers were most definitely not welcome. Since I doubted there was a patch of grass that Killer hadn’t christened, I was guessing Officer Higgins might be in trouble.

“Be careful of the dog,” I yelled. “He’s not good with strangers.”

He wasn’t good with friends, either, but I figured I didn’t need to admit that in front of my aunt. She was upset enough.

My aunt walked over to the door and cooed, “Killer, baby. Come here and get a treat.” Killer must have decided bacon-flavored dog biscuits were more important than protecting his personal potty because he stopped growling. He bounded into the kitchen and over to the pantry, leaving the yard to Prospect Glen’s finest.

The two walked around the backyard for a while, stared at the bush I dented in my dive to safety, and came back into the house. Officer Higgins sighed. “We’ll interview the neighbors. With luck, one of them saw something.”

His partner looked more hopeful about that prospect than he sounded. Her eyes gleamed with unsuppressed excitement
as she added, “My partner found one bullet lodged in what’s left of the mailbox. We’ll take that back to the station with us and have it logged into evidence.”

I had a hard time sharing her enthusiasm for the recovered bullet considering it had been aimed at me.

Killer gave the officers the evil eye as they walked past him gnawing on a doughnut-shaped rawhide. Given the company, I thought the choice of chew toy was appropriate. I escorted the two back to the front door and opened it as the doorbell rang. Detective Kaiser stood, hand poised to knock, on the other side. The clenching of his jaw and the furrowed lines on his forehead made his mood clear.

Detective Mike motioned for the two cops to join him in the heat. The minute I moved my foot across the threshold, he barked, “Stay inside.”

I wanted to fight him on principle. This was my house. Okay, technically it was Millie’s house, but I was living in it. On top of that, I was the one who was shot at. I deserved to know what was going on. Instead, I nodded and closed the door. The fact that a maniac with a gun was taking potshots at mailboxes made the outdoors feel scary. It made standing in front of windows a bit frightening as well, so I used the peephole to satisfy my burning curiosity.

Drat. Detective Kaiser was standing on the stoop with his back toward me, effectively blocking my view. I wouldn’t doubt he had taken that position on purpose, knowing I was lurking behind the door.

I paced the length of the foyer several times. Finally, I heard a knock. Before I could answer it, the door swung open and Detective Mike marched inside.

“Why did you bother to knock if you weren’t going to wait for me to open the door?”

“The rules say I have to announce my presence. I did.”
He shrugged off his tan sports coat, revealing a gun holstered to his side. He hadn’t been wearing the gun earlier or my hands would have felt it during that kiss. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved that he was packing or disturbed that he found it necessary. Probably both. “The officers gave me a report. Now I want to hear it from you. What the hell did you do to get yourself shot at?”

The insinuation that I encouraged someone to take potshots at me pissed me off. I planted my hands on my hips as a flare of righteous anger sped through me. “What did I do? I bent down to get my aunt’s newspaper. Somehow I don’t think the sight of my behind up in the air was enough to cause gunfire.”

Detective Kaiser glanced at my backside, and I considered decking him. The action would get me jail time, but the sentence might be worth it.

His eyes met mine. “Did you stop anywhere when you came back from Mr. DeWeese’s house?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone suspicious while you were driving? Maybe a car following you?”

I was too annoyed by his post-kiss brush-off to notice much of anything. “No. I drove home. Parked the car and got shot at. End of story.” The fact that it was almost really the end of my story was still making me a bit light-headed. Being angry was keeping me from falling apart.

Detective Mike ran a hand through his hair and let out a loud huff just as Kung Fu Millie walked into the foyer with her sidekick, Killer. She marched up to the detective and poked her finger in the direction of his chest. “I’ve been waiting for you to get here. Those two kids were nice, but they have a lot to learn about being cops. They didn’t even draw their guns. The shooter could have pegged them in the
back before they ever got around to taking the safeties off their Smith and Wessons. Personally, I think a Smith and Wesson isn’t an exciting gun choice, but selecting police side arms isn’t my job.”

Detective Kaiser and I gaped at Millie. The detective recovered first. “What kind of gun do you think we should be using?”

Millie smiled. “I prefer a Beretta 8000. It’s easy for me to quick draw, and in my opinion the accuracy is second to none.”

“You don’t say?” Detective Kaiser raised an eyebrow. “I’ve tried a Beretta 8000. Not bad, but I would think you’d prefer the Smith and Wesson .40 compact. It’s lighter weight than the Beretta. You might want to give it a whirl.”

“Nah. Too light is no good. A real woman likes at least a little weight in her hands. Besides, I am biased toward Italian designers for clothes and weaponry.”