Death of the Couch Potato's Wife: Cozy Christian Mysteries (Women Sleuth, Female Detective Suspense) (8 page)

Beyond those houses were fields of ginseng. I’m not sure how Boring ended up being a major producer of ginseng, but it had. Ironically, ginseng helped people stay awake. How appropriate.

Apparently, they had a big festival every year where they served everything from ginseng tea to ginseng ice cream. Now that I thought about it, that festival should be coming up soon. I’d heard the buzz about it going around town, and there had even been a couple of articles in the paper.

The next turn was into our neighborhood—the worst thing that could happen to Boring, according to many. Suburbia had come to Boring, and Boring didn’t particularly welcome the new faces. But Hillary’s husband, a developer, had purchased the land and built the homes about a decade ago. Slowly, they were filling up. Many people from Indianapolis moved down here to get away from the crime of the city.

A few of the town’s “originals” had eventually moved into the neighborhood. Those houses were bigger and closer to the golf course, which had also gone up with the neighborhood. No one complained about that.

As I drove into my cul-de-sac, I noticed everything seemed especially dark. I pulled into the driveway and saw that my house had no lights on.

I glanced at my watch. Eight o’clock. What was Kent doing at this hour that required the whole house to be black? Had he gone to sleep already? His car was in the driveway, so he was home.

A terrible thought entered my mind. What if the killer had knocked Kent off also? What if some of those sleeping pills had gotten onto his food? I should have warned him to watch what he ate! I should have monitored his sack lunches better, maybe even insisted that he grab a bite at the pharmacy.

I jumped out of my car and ran to my front door. My fingers fumbled until finally the key pushed into the lock. I twisted and the door opened.

My heart beat in my throat as I stepped inside. Thankfully, I didn’t hear a TV in the background.

“Kent? Kent? Are you home?”

I flicked the lights in the foyer. My house remained black. What was going on?

I slowly crept forward. My hand stretched in front of me, feeling for any obstacles. Hand me a lantern, and I could make the cover of an old Nancy Drew novel. I felt like I was in a scene right out of one of her old books. Only my house wasn’t nearly creepy enough.

Kent’s car was in the driveway, so I knew he’d been here. Maybe he’d simply gone to visit one of the neighbors. Still, something felt wrong.

Please, Lord, let Kent be okay.

I pictured Candace, and nausea churned in my gut. I might’ve been upset with my husband, but I wasn’t ready to let him go yet. This couldn’t be the end.

“Kent?” I called again, my voice shaky this time.

I rounded the corner into the living room, my hand brushing the wall to keep me steady. I could only make out the outline of my furniture—the couch, the TV, and a couple of end tables. No Kent. Where could he be? I’d check the bedrooms before calling the police.

I turned around to go upstairs when I collided with someone. A killer?

I screamed and my hands flew into the air, along with my leftovers.

Kent pulled the headphones from his ear. “Laura? What’s the matter with you? Where have you been?”

“Kent!” I threw myself into his arms, drinking in the scent of his aftershave. I could still hear the strands from a Casting Crowns’ song drifting from his MP3 player and through his earphones. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I was so worried.”

He patted my back as if I were a small, naive child. “Of course I’m okay. What did you think? I ate poisoned pork rinds?” I backed out of his embrace and scowled. He had no idea. My feelings must have shown through to my face because his goofy grin disappeared and he brushed my cheek with his fingers.

“Oh Laura, I’m sorry.” He pulled me into his chest. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure you’re still going through post traumatic stress and—”

I backed out of his arms. “Post traumatic stress? Is that what you call it? How about calling it what it is? I saw my friend dead.” My voice grew louder with each word and my hands pounded each other to emphasize my point.

His eyes softened. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Laura. Can we start over?”

I hung my head for a moment. I had to get a grip. What was wrong with me? Flying off the handle wasn’t like me. “Yes, of course we can.”

He took my elbow. “Let’s go sit down. I’ll fix you a cup of tea, and we can talk.”

I plopped on the couch while he wandered into the kitchen. I heard the clanging of the metal teapot as Kent set it on the burner. I heard the clanking of my teacups as he pulled one from the cabinet. While he waited for the water to boil, he came and sat beside me.

I glanced over at him. “Why are the lights off?”

“I guess our entire cul-de-sac is without power. I have no idea why.”

Fortunately we had a gas stove and a match.

“Where have you been?” Kent pushed his glasses up on his nose. The edge of my lip started to curl. I used to love it when he did that.

“I grabbed a bite to eat. I didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“I know. I’m so sorry about that. I had too many prescriptions to fill. When people need medicine, they can’t wait. Their health depends on my timeliness. Getting the business off the ground is a lot of work.”

“But you’re glad you did it, right?” Please don’t say we’ve gone through all of these life changes for no good reason.

He grinned. “Absolutely.”

The teapot screamed and Kent retreated into the kitchen. A moment later, he reappeared with two steaming drinks. He set them on the coffee table.

“Did you have dinner yet?” I asked, guilt suddenly pounding at my temples.

“No, I just got home.”

I reached down to the floor and grabbed the measly doggie bag I’d brought home. It had landed by the couch when Kent surprised me. I offered my husband a half-frown. “I have leftovers.”

“That’s generous of you, but no thanks.” I saw the twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll make a sandwich. But first, tell me about the shed. When you said it ‘exploded,’ you really meant it, didn’t you? I had no idea it was that bad.”

I nodded. “Yeah, they said something about the propane tanks. I’m still not sure how everything happened.”

“The important thing is that you’re safe. There have been some strange things happening around here lately. I guess we all need to keep our eyes open.”

That sounded like Kent. My Kent.

I would show him how much I supported him, I decided.

Tomorrow, I would buy a couch for his man cave. I would surprise him with a place where he could relax after a hard day’s work. He wanted a space of his own, so a space of his own was exactly what I’d give him.

But before I made too many plans to transform our garage into a space that would make ESPN proud, I had to partake in my civic duties.

Tonight was my first night of Neighborhood Watch patrol.

“I’m driving,” I insisted to Babe. The Neighborhood Watch patch on my new shirt irritated my skin underneath. Harry had insisted we had to wear them when on duty. I couldn’t be sure, but I’d bet Harry was sitting at his window, counting the number of times he saw us drive by just to make sure we did a good job.

He was having trouble releasing his grip as sole citizen patrolman for the neighborhood.

As Babe and I circled the neighborhood, I listened to Babe tell her stories about a Backstreet Boy concert she went to years ago. She even sang a few songs for me, trying to demonstrate how good they sounded. Nothing like her, in other words.

I pulled into our cul-de-sac for the fifth time. Being a part of Neighborhood Watch patrol wasn’t nearly as exciting as I’d envisioned. Everyone in the neighborhood appeared to be asleep, except Harry, who at thirty minutes past midnight had found every excuse to be outside, from cleaning his car to searching for a key he dropped on the front lawn.

Finally, I pulled up the car to the curb and rolled down my window. A chilly wind swept inside, instantly cancelling out any heat blowing through the vents. Harry knelt on the ground beside his Seville. “How’s it going, Harry? Did you ever find that key?”

He stood and approached the car. He panted and, even in the dark, I could see the dirt patches on his clothing.

“I’ve been looking. Wish the lights would come back on.”

“What happened? The whole neighborhood is out.”

“Some idiot must have been doing something stupid.” He shrugged. “And now I can’t find my house key.”

I pointed behind him. “But your front door is open.”

“There’s a killer out there. I can’t have him finding my key.”

I nodded. “Good point.” Babe nudged me, a signal she wanted to go. “Good luck, Harry. Maybe we’ll see you later.”

“Seen anything going on tonight?” he asked.

“Absolutely nothing. But if something happens, we’ll be sure to report it to you.”

We pulled away and continued to cover our “beat.”

“Are you always such a kiss-up, chickaroonie?”

I gave Babe a sharp glance. “I’m not a kiss-up, and I resent that comment.”

“Resent or resemble?”

Light suddenly appeared in our car—blue and red lights, to be exact. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a police cruiser behind us. I pulled over and rolled down my window as Chief Romeo approached, compulsively tucking his shirt in, as always. He leaned on my window, shaking his head when he spotted Babe and me.

“We’ve had a report of a suspicious car circling the neighborhood.”

I pointed to my Neighborhood Watch emblem. “We’re on duty. It’s our job to circle the neighborhood.”

Romeo looked at Babe and me and shook his head. “Harry mentioned you two had volunteered to help out with citizen patrol.”

“We just want to keep our cribs safe,” Babe called over my shoulder.

I nodded and widened my eyes to look innocent. “Safe.”

The chief studied us another moment before standing tall. “Seen anything suspicious going on?”

“All the power’s out. Any idea why?” I asked.

“Power company is trying to figure it out now. Hopefully, the electricity will be restored by morning.”

I smiled. “Excellent.”

The chief took a step away. “Stay out of trouble, you two.”

Babe and I giggled as he walked out of earshot.

We began cruising again and Babe propped her feet up on my dashboard. “Like my new kicks?”

Black Converse All-Stars with skulls on them.

“They’re—the bomb,” I said.

“The bomb!” Babe laughed, as if I sounded ridiculous using that expression.

She had no idea.

As I pulled away from the curb, I figured this might be a good time to approach the subject of Paul Willis. Their encounter had stayed on my mind. “So, how long have you and Mr. Willis known each other?”

Babe scowled and dropped her feet back to the floor before tugging at her stocking cap, which made her look a bit like a burglar. “Long enough.”

I’d hit on a touchy subject. I should back off, but I didn’t want to. “So you’ve known him since before you moved to Boring?”

She shrugged and looked out the window. I couldn’t be sure, but she might have been pouting. “We ran in the same circles back in my younger days.”

There was more to the story! I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel in excitement. “And what circles would that be?”

She remained quiet a moment with her chin in the air. “My husband and I used to frequent his jazz club.”

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. “Really? What was it like?”

She shrugged. “It was okay. Nothing special. Every once in awhile he’d bring in some good musicians.”

“Isn’t that interesting?”

She snorted. “Nothing interesting about it. Now, let’s talk about something else.”

I glanced at my friend’s profile. “I’m just trying to understand why you dislike him so much.”

“Some things are just none of your business, Laura.”

Babe had a tendency to go from no-holds-barred life of the party to self-righteous prude. Instead of arguing or pointing out her inconsistencies, I continued driving. I looped the whole neighborhood and came back to my street again. I glanced at my house, which looked like every other house in the neighborhood. The builder had only three different styles to choose from, and each one had been a slight variation of the other ones. For as much as we paid for these brick-fronted, vinyl-sided homes, you’d think they’d taken time in putting them up. But no, even on mild days you could feel a breeze coming through the windows and doors. According to Babe, the houses had gone up in three months.