Ten Little Bloodhounds (24 page)

“Well, it isn’t all shooting gators. The rest is cleaning pens and training dogs. Nothing exciting about that unless you slip up and step in dog doo-doo.”

She giggled. “I’ve heard about your scent machine from Sheri Bennett. She had a dinner party last month and she kept the whole table entertained with your adventures. It seems almost impossible to believe that those bloodhounds of yours are so talented. Tom was really impressed.”

And I wasn’t invited, I brooded. It was my own fault. When you’re asked and turn down several opportunities in a row, they stop calling. I would have to start making myself available more often if I wanted to attend any future dinner parties.

“Tom?” I inquired.

“He’s part of the problem I wanted to talk to you about. I’m going about this the wrong way. Now it sounds like the only reason I called is that I have a problem I want you to help me with. I don’t want you to think that.”

“Why should I think that?” I’m glad she couldn’t see the wry expression pulling at the corners of my mouth. “Friends are friends, if it’s a week or fourteen years since we’ve seen each other. Tell me about your problem.”

“Thanks, Jo Beth, I appreciate you listening to me. Let me tell you a story. I went through a nasty divorce. We’d been married almost nine years when I found out he had been cutting a swath through my married women friends on our party list. No singles or divorcées, he only wanted to bonk the married ones. He explained it to me after the divorce. They gossiped less and were cheap dates because they couldn’t be seen together out in public. I was soured on men and didn’t date for a year.

“Six months ago Mother got sick and wanted me to move back and live with her. She needed me, so I came home. She’s better now and I’m living in a small studio apartment that her and Dad built years ago. It’s attached to the back of the house and I have my own entrance. It’s around back and can’t be seen from the street. I’ve been enjoying the peace and quiet until a month ago.

“Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. Right after Mom got better and I started going around with old friends, I started dating again. Not often, and not just with one guy. There is one at work, a friend of a friend, and now Tom.”

“Send me your leftovers,” I joked.

“I’m not serious about any of them and the most I’ve gone out with one of them is three times and I’m not sleeping with any of them!”

“Okay, take it easy, I was kidding,” I cautioned.

“Sorry, but it’s getting to me.”

“What?” I said helpfully.

“Two months ago, I started looking over my shoulder when I’m out of the house and going to work, or let’s just say when I’m going anywhere.”

“Uh-oh.”

“God, I’m glad you understand so quickly. Sheri said that Bubba had stalked you for years, and that if anyone could understand, you could. I really don’t think she did.”

“Have you ever seen anyone following you?”

“No one. I see nothing that looks suspicious. I feel like I’m becoming a basket case. I feel eyes on me, Jo Beth. Someone is out there, I know it!”

“I believe that you’ve seen something or heard something that registered in your subconscious, only you can’t remember what it is. I have a simple way of explaining what’s happening. Your cavewoman’s senses have been activated. They’re warning you that you are in danger from someone. It’s sorta like when you have a spider on your shoulder and someone brushes it off. Hours later, you still can feel a spider crawling in the most unlikely places and try to keep brushing it away. Have you ever had that happen? The tiny sensors on the surface of your skin and hair follicles have been activated and minuscule particles like a snip of hair or even scaling skin can trigger that feeling again.”

“The weirdest thing happened a month ago.”

“Tell me.”

“I came home and my front door was unlocked. I tried the key and couldn’t turn it. I reached out and pushed and it swung open. Jo Beth, I can’t positively swear I locked it, but it’s a faithful habit with me. I always lock it!”

“Did you go inside without anyone with you?”

“Yes, I convinced myself that I had forgotten that morning to lock it.”

“Bad move. Don’t ever do it again. Did you find anything disturbed inside?”

“My imagination did. My toothbrush was in the wrong slot in the holder. I thought I could see an impression on the bedspread where a head had rested, but I had been running late that morning and more or less flipped the spread over the pillows, so I couldn’t be sure. My mother is shaking her head right now, saying I’m talking nonsense.”

No wonder she had told me she wasn’t sleeping with any of the three hopefuls. A daughter is always chaste in a Southern religious mother’s opinion, even after motherhood or divorce. If Alice Mae was having a male guest sleep over, she had to be discreet and slip him in after dark and out before daylight.

“You’re calling from your mother’s house?”

“My door to my cottage was standing ajar when I came home from work at two-thirty this afternoon.”

“You haven’t been inside?”

“I remembered Sheri’s dinner conversation about you and decided to call.”

“Stay inside with your mother. I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes.”

I
called Donnie Ray. He picked up the phone in Wayne’s office.

“Are you and Wayne busy right now?”

“No, ma’am. Wayne just finished feeding the new puppies, and I fed the rest. The dogs’ suppers are mixed. We’re just waiting until time to feed them. I’m playing a computer game and Wayne is reading. Need anything?”

“I need you to bring my van around to the porch steps, and for you to load the scent machine in my car and follow me. When we get to our destination, I’ll tell you what to do. Don’t forget the gauze pad. Tell Wayne you’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

“Should you be driving?”

“I can drive and use my right leg. It’s the left leg that’s sore. No problem, okay?”

“Yes’m. Be right there.”

Bobby Lee was delirious when I told him to fetch his leash and that he could go.

We waited in the drive until Donnie Ray drove out of the garage and pulled up beside us. He ran back to get my car while I loaded Bobby Lee and eased into the driver’s seat using the crutches. I saw Jasmine running down the apartment stairs, taking two or more steps at a time. I lowered both windows as she walked up to the van door.

“Do you need me to drive you?”

She spoke in a neutral tone of voice, but I sensed her disapproval.

“I’m fine,” I said with a smile. “But thanks for asking.”

She stood there expecting an explanation. She turned her head and watched Donnie Ray pull my car behind the van and wait with the motor running.

“Are you sure you don’t need me?”

She now looked worried. A small frown appeared.

“Positive. See you later.” I pulled off and left her standing there. As I slowed at the inside gate to pull onto the driveway, I glanced back and she was staring at me. I felt better. She was worried about me. I should have relieved her mind, or invited her to join me, but I still felt betrayed to a certain extent. I knew it was silly, but I was just perverse enough to leave her in the dark and let her stew.

It was less than two miles to Alice Mae’s mother’s home. I pulled up to the modest house on Sycamore Drive and tooted the horn. She ran out to greet me, and stopped short when she saw Bobby Lee with his head out the window.

“Meet Bobby Lee,” I said as I moved him over to the empty space between the seat and connected him to his seat belt.

“Does he bite?”

“One caress and he’s a friend for life. Hop in and ride around to your door with me.” She slid into the seat and closed the door cautiously, keeping her eye on him. I put my hand on his left shoulder.

“Shake hands with your left paw, Bobby Lee.”

He solemnly offered his left. She laughed. “He always puts out his left paw, right?”

I casually dropped my right hand on Bobby Lee’s right shoulder.

“Use your right, sweetheart.”

He obligingly stuck out his right. She gasped. “He really knows his left from his right!”

“Not really. He was born blind, and I trained him with hand signals on his shoulders. He has the ability to see now, but he still needs the hand signals.”

“How did he gain his sight, with surgery?”

“Nope. Over a few weeks’ period, he acted skittish and had me worried. The vet thinks it was a blood clot that eventually was absorbed into his system that had been blocking the optic nerve.”

“It doesn’t surprise me that you’re working with dogs now. I remember the dog you had in the third grade that got run over. We all thought you were gonna die. I heard my mother tell a neighbor that you were gonna dry up and blow away, you had lost so much weight.”

“It was a bad time for me; I had just lost my mother. All I ever wanted to do was raise bloodhounds. I just had to work for several years to be able to start.”

“Are you having fun?”

“They are my reason for rising early every morning. They are eating me into bankruptcy, but I couldn’t
imagine life without them.”

I pulled around the driveway and stopped at the door of the cottage.

“Who’s in the car behind us?” Alice’s voice was sharp.

“Donnie Ray, my videographer for the kennel. He’s bringing the scent machine, and will set it up. I don’t get around too well on these crutches.”

We got out, and I hobbled to the door. Donnie Ray joined us, and I introduced Alice. Mrs. Carter had walked around the house, and appeared with a baseball bat.

“Just in case,” she said defensively as she saw the three of us staring at her.

Alice was embarrassed. “Mother, for Pete’s sake!”

“A practical woman is a prepared woman,” I said, grinning at Mrs. Carter. “Do you know how to use it?”

“Alice’s father liked to shag flies in the spring. I was the one who hit them to him. I can handle a bat.”

“Good. I’m sure if there was an intruder, he’s long gone, but we’ll stay out here until Donnie Ray checks.”

I put on a pair of thin gloves, opened the filter that Donnie Ray brought, and loaded it in the top of the scent machine.

“Set the machine on the floor by the bed. Plug it in, and take a quick glance under the bed, behind the shower curtain, and in the closet. I want you back out here in thirty seconds, don’t dally.”

I held the screen door and gave the front door a nudge. He slipped in, and I pulled it shut behind him.

“Want to contain the existing air inside,” I explained. We stood waiting for him to return. He was back in forty seconds.

“What took you so long?”

“There were three closets,” he replied, aiming his
glance upward. He knew I was kidding.

“How long does it have to run?” Mrs. Carter inquired.

“I’ll give it five minutes. That should be sufficient.”

“I understand the concept, from Alice’s explanation, but won’t the air have other scents?”

“Well, the theory is that Alice’s and yours have had time to settle in the several hours since you’ve been in there. The prevalent scent, of the intruder, if there has been an intruder, should be still floating around in the dust motes and tiny currents of air. That’s why I had Donnie Ray in and out so quickly.”

We all stood and listened to the small hum we could barely hear coming from the cottage. It sounded as if a vacuum was being used in a faraway bedroom.

When the five minutes had passed, I sent Donnie Ray back inside to retrieve it. On the small stoop, I removed the filter pad of gauze, still wearing my gloves, and double-bagged it into gallon Ziploc bags.

“Label it and stick it in the freezer. I’ll be along shortly,” I told Donnie Ray.

Alice and her mother insisted that I stay and visit for a while, but I begged off, pleading some heavy reading on a present case.

“Invite your three suspects and a few people over for drinks as soon as possible. Put me on the guest list. I don’t want to drag this out; I’m worried about you being stalked. Get a new lock on your door tomorrow. See you soon.”

Back home, I settled in the office, and decided that ten suspects to juggle was way too many. I would make a list of all of them, showing only their city of residence, occupation, and brief alibi for the time when Amelia was kidnapped. Maybe I could narrow
the number of suspects while being sure their alibis were airtight. An hour later, with the list finished, I stood up to stretch, and admired how neat it looked. I typed it so I would be able to read it in the future.

SUSPECTS

1. Celia Cancannon, private secretary, on island, inside working.
   

2. Rand Finch, helicopter pilot, off island, picking up supplies.
   

3. Cathy Cancannon Kingsley, unemployed, Bethesda, MD, home alone.
   

4. Larry (Cathy’s husband) Kingsley, unemployed, Bethesda, MD, fund-raising party, Washington, DC
   

5. Teri Cancannon Halbert, designer, Lathrap, CA, her office, then home alone.
   

6. Phillip (Teri’s husband) Halbert, CPA, Lathrap, CA, works in his home office, then home alone.
   

7. Sabrina Cancannon Wilder, public radio, Atlanta, GA, on the air, then home.
   

8. Paul (Sabrina’s husband) Wilder, real estate broker, Atlanta, GA, his office, then dinner out.
   

9. Cynthia Cancannon Ross, unemployed, Kalamazoo, MI, shopping, then home alone.
   

10. Steven (Cynthia’s husband) Ross, lawyer, Kalamazoo, MI, office, dinner with client, then home alone.
    

I studied the list, then eyed the heavy stack of reports already accumulated, and decided to make them more manageable. I pulled out one of the many summaries and began clipping them, and pasting the articles on an
individual page for each suspect.

I heard the first gate alarm and from my kitchen window watched Jasmine drive through the second gate and garage her car. I stood in the dark and watched her climb her stairs and enter her apartment without glancing once in my direction.

I resented the fact that she was ignoring me. She was making too much of our little spat. Common courtesy dictated that she should have stuck her nose in my door and asked how I felt, and if I needed anything. It was only 10:00
P.M.
and my light was on in the office. She knew I would be checking to make sure it was her returning from her college class and not Bubba with his baseball bat. I hardened my heart. There would be no apology from me tomorrow, or in this millennium. I could out-stubborn her any day of the week.