Gun in the Gardenias Read online

  When Mack drove up twenty minutes later, he asked, “Now what are you up to? Do you really think some kind of witch’s hex will stop the bad guys from getting at you?”

  She gave him a hard look. “Gasoline.”

  The smile wore off his face. He sniffed and nodded. He called the fire marshal and somebody else. Doreen didn’t know who or what. Her body involuntarily shook as she realized how close this had been. So why was the house not on fire? Why hadn’t someone lit the fuel?

  “Did you see anyone?” Mack asked.

  She shook her head wildly. “I thought I heard somebody call out to me about an hour ago, and I thought it was you, honestly. I came to the front door and saw a group of people at a neighbor’s place, and they were laughing, making plans, then all took off. I didn’t see anyone else.”

  “When did you notice the gasoline?”

  “Not very long ago. I was gardening in the back. I came in, got water, and I planned to sit with a cup of tea in the front to see if I got any garden ideas. That’s when I smelled the gas fumes. That’s when I called you too. Then I ran over to my neighbor’s and grabbed the dirt from his pile. I owe him now.” She pointed in her neighbor’s direction only to see Richard standing there in the front door, his gaze looking at her wheelbarrow and pile of dirt with a big dent in the side.

  Richard roared, “Did you just steal that?”

  “I did,” she said. “And you’re welcome.”

  Confusion rippled across his features. He obviously didn’t understand.

  “Did you see anyone here in the last hour?” Mack called over to Richard.

  He lifted a hand to cup around his ear; then, as if finally processing Mack’s words, Richard shrugged. “I did see somebody, but I didn’t think anything of it. She’s got so many people around here all the time. You should chase them off for ruining the peace and quiet around here.”

  Mack ignored that part. “Did he have a gas can?”

  Richard looked at them, and then he looked at the dirt and the line she had poured all around the property. She could see the details filtering into his system. He nodded slowly. “He had something, but I didn’t know that it was a gas can. It was a big jug.”

  “Would you recognize who it was?”

  He stared at Mack and then over at Doreen. “Did somebody just try to burn down your house?”

  “I don’t know if they planned to or not, but I presume so,” she said slowly. “They didn’t light a match. That’s the part I don’t get.”

  “Second thoughts?” Richard asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Likely interrupted and planning to come back later to finish the job.” And because she didn’t know, it really worried her. Within minutes, more vehicles pulled up.

  Richard shot her an ugly look and said, “See what I mean? She’s always got people here.” He bolted inside his door and slammed it hard.

  The fire marshal hopped out of his vehicle, came over, and shook Mack’s hand but then caught a whiff of the gasoline. His sharp gaze noted the dirt ring around the house and let out a long, slow whistle. He turned to Doreen and said, “Somebody really hates you.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “And some people have good reason to hate me,” she said calmly. “With my assistance, they’ll go to jail for the rest of their lives.”

  The fire marshal looked at her, saw Mugs and Goliath at her feet and Thaddeus on the crook of her neck, and said, “You’re the bone lady.”

  She nodded. “Yes, and it’s no coincidence we’re currently involved in a case that involves arson.”

  He nodded. “Let me take a look.” He went inside, while outside his team wrapped around the property, looking. When he came back, he said, “This is standard fuel-grade gasoline. It’s only on the outside of the house. It’s a potential circle of fire, but you have thoroughly covered it with dirt.” Then he took out a lighter and showed her that nothing would burn. She could feel some of her stress inside abating.

  “But we don’t know that he’s finished,” she said. “Or if he’s done something else.”

  “I would say he’s definitely not done,” the fire marshal said as he looked at her. “There was no reason for him to not toss a match except for the fact it’s broad daylight, and chances are he would have been caught before too much damage was done.”

  “Or somebody interrupted him,” Mack said. He looked down at Mugs and said, “How was Mugs when you were checking out the front?”

  “He didn’t come with me,” she said. “He was barking in the back.”

  “Ah …”

  Doreen froze and looked at him. “What?” she asked.

  “It’s quite possible the intruder thought you weren’t home,” Mack said. “And when he realized the dog was out back, and you had come into the front of the house, after thinking you heard something out front, he found out you were home. He might have also taken the opportunity to pour more gasoline while you were in the backyard again.”

  “That would mean he wasn’t planning to kill me first, then to burn my body,” she said slowly. “I do prefer that version.”

  “Or at least didn’t want to kill you in broad daylight where he might get caught,” the fire marshal added. He looked at Mack and said, “I’ll write this up, but this will be something you guys need to keep an eye on. And find the firebug as soon as possible.”

  Mack nodded. “You mean, before he tries this again.”

  The fire marshal barely hid a chuckle as he nodded. “Exactly.”

  He left, and there was Arnold, staring at her with a grim look in his eye.

  “I didn’t see anybody,” she said, trying to be helpful. “I did hear a sound, as if somebody was calling out to see if I was home though.”

  “That’s the only good thing about this,” Arnold said. “The fact of the matter is, if he didn’t try to kill you today, chances are he wasn’t looking to kill but just to burn down your property.”

  She reached up and rubbed her temple. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Nothing has to make sense,” Mack said. “Come on. Let’s get you back inside the house.”

  She went back in and then stopped and said, “I have to return the rest of this dirt to my neighbor.”

  “Leave it,” he said. “We’ll take pictures.”

  Her shoulders sagged, and she nodded, calling Mugs and Goliath in with her. Then she turned to Mack and asked, “Are you coming in too?”

  “I have to talk to the guys first.”

  She nodded and went in to put on coffee. If there was one thing she was sure of, Mack wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee. And, right now, she really needed the caffeine. She also didn’t want Mack to leave. The fire marshal had checked to make sure no gasoline was anywhere in the house, so that made her feel better. But … not good enough. With the coffee dripping, she walked over to her little office alcove, picked up the stack she had meant to take to Rosemoor—the ones Nan had asked her to scan—and walked back out front.

  “I need to get away for a few moments,” she said. “I’ll deliver this to Nan.”

  Mack nodded. “I’ll be here when you come back, unless I get called away.”

  “Right,” she said, and she rushed off. On the way, she called Nan, but there was no answer. She groaned. When she got to Nan’s patio, Nan really wasn’t there. Doreen frowned, then shrugged it off. Nan had a better social life than Doreen did. She wrote a note on the envelope and left it on Nan’s outdoor patio table. It was safe from the elements there.

  Still, it was disappointing. She needed a hug right now. Slowly and out of sorts, she walked back alongside the creek. At her property, she stopped and stared at the house, wondering what she was supposed to do about this new element. She walked back inside and took a look outside to see two cops still talking out front but nobody else. She groaned, sat down at the kitchen table, and said, “And now what?”

  “And now,” a man said behind her, “now you get to commit suicide and burn.” br />
  She froze, turned ever-so-slightly, and smiled. “So I was right,” she crowed.

  Steve stared at her. “You were right about what?”

  She looked at the gun in his hand and waved it off. “Nobody will believe I committed suicide with a gun,” she said with a shake of her head. “You really don’t research your victims first, do you?”

  Chapter 33

  Friday Afternoon …

  Steve frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “First off, I’d never commit suicide. Period. Nobody here will believe that. And the gasoline has been covered in dirt now. It won’t burn.”

  He shrugged. “I can come back with more.”

  “Sure you could. It would break your pattern though.”

  He stared at Doreen, anger growing on his face. “What difference does it make?”

  “It’s a pattern. And patterns matter to serial arsonists—and serial killers. And …” And that’s when she realized what he had planned for her. “You were planning to repeat your pattern with me. Pour gasoline outside, come inside, and help me to commit ‘suicide,’ then light my body on fire, like the gang was supposed to do in the first place. Then you planned to go outside and light up the gasoline, waiting there to keep any rescuers outside of the house while I burn to nothing, leaving zero left forensically for them to understand what happened. Particularly given that this old house will go up like a matchstick.”

  He nodded slowly. “You’re not so stupid after all.”

  “No,” she said cheerfully, feeling an exuberance she had no business feeling. “I’m not stupid at all. And I was right.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, glaring at her.

  “I already asked Mack if they had proven it wasn’t you in that fire yesterday. And told him to check for your money laundering schemes and to study your bank accounts against the checks you wrote those women.”

  He stared at her in shock.

  She nodded. “No way you would have committed suicide in that house. And the only way to get out of town and have all of this go away was to make sure you were dead. At least appeared to be dead. That way anyone from the Devil Riders’ gang who might still be gunning for you would give up. Too bad you aren’t really dead. It would be fitting if you’d died alongside those poor women you killed. And all for what? Greed? Secrecy? Because they were part of the other gang?”

  The shocked look on his face was priceless. “How did you know about them?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “How did you know about any of it?”

  “By knowing who you were on the inside,” she said gently. “You’d never let them go. Any one of those women could have gone to the cops, and you’d have all gone down. And you’d be caught for money laundering for the gang and they, in turn, would have taken you out for getting caught.”

  “And they would have,” he stated categorically. “You couldn’t trust them. The gang or the women. And, if that was the case, no way could they be allowed to cash those checks. So I handed out checks that any bank employee, if worth their salt, would reject. I misspelled the women’s name each time, so, when showing ID at any bank, their legal names would not match up with the check I gave them. You’d be surprised how people miss that and zoom in right for the amount instead. Then they’d have to contact me for replacement checks that they could then cash. I was renovating at the time, so I took them all out within the same day and used the heavy equipment on the place to bury them deep.” He shook his head. “I still don’t understand how you figured that out.”

  “Well, I didn’t know for sure about the location of the bodies but thanks for the clarification. Now they can be exhumed and buried properly and allow their families some closure. And I suppose you shot them with the same gun that was found in my neighbor’s yard, huh? Why get a new weapon when that one worked so well? And did you plan to shoot me when you came through my yard with it that night Penny was with you? You must have really loved her to try and kill me like that.” She smiled up at him. “Too bad you didn’t just leave town. You might have been able to stay dead.”

  “Well, appearing dead is one thing, but I also needed to make sure one nasty busybody who was ruining my life was dead too,” he cried, cocking the gun in his hand. “I didn’t stand a chance back then and look at all the damage you’ve caused since then…”

  “I get that,” she said gently. “I really do. But the fact of the matter is, you still won’t get away with it.”

  “And why is that?” he asked with a snort.

  She smiled and said, “Because of this.” And just then Goliath, who’d been creeping up behind him, jumped as high as he could and caught hold of Steve midspine. Knowing the gun was leveled at her, she dove for the ground as it went off. With gunfire inside, she knew the cops outside would race toward her.

  Not to be outdone, Thaddeus, who’d been sitting on the kitchen table, flew up to Steve’s gun hand and pecked away on it. Steve was still screaming and trying to shake off the cat, stumbling around, when Mugs caught him with a bite behind the knees. He went down hard on his butt. Doreen picked up the cast-iron frying pan she swore she would use one day. It took two hands to lift it, and, just as she went to swing it at his head, he reached up an arm in a defensive move, and the skillet came down hard on his elbow.

  Crack …

  He roared in agony as the front door burst open. Mack and the cops ran in.

  The gun skittered across the kitchen floor, and Mack stared at her in shock.

  She stepped back. “Look at this. This cast-iron skillet really does come in handy,” she said admiringly as she placed it gently on the kitchen table. “But you know something, Mack? I think I need one about half that size.”

  He glared at her, while Steve, still on the floor, screamed, “She’s crazy. She’s absolutely crazy!”

  At that, Goliath sauntered past again and swiped Steve hard across his cheek. Steve roared as his cheek erupted in bleeding scratches. And Mugs, obviously just as offended, took one look at Steve’s ankle stretched out in front of him and bit down hard.

  Steve screamed again, then yelled, “Get them off me! Get them off me!”

  Mack laughed, but he helped Mugs calm down enough so he would release his jaw. Then Mack turned to Doreen. “Get them away from here.”

  She gave him a look. “Why? They’re just defending my honor,” she snapped.

  He rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t think it’s necessary any longer. Steve’s done, and he’s down. You’re good.”

  She smiled and called Mugs and Goliath to her. Thaddeus too. “Come on, big guy,” she crooned. “I’m safe now. Come on. Calm down.”

  He walked over, clucking and, obviously upset at what had happened, half flew and half jumped on Mugs’s back. With the four of them gathered together, Doreen crouched down and put an arm around them. She sat here and watched as Mack helped Steve to his feet.

  He stood, shaky but upright, hugging his injured arm against his chest.

  “See? I was right,” she told Mack. “It definitely wasn’t Steve in that fire.”

  Mack groaned. “I got it,” he said. “But you might want to consider that we’d like to sort some things out on our own.”

  Arnold, however, didn’t have a problem with her solving the case. He reached out to give her a high five. “You know those animals need a commendation for the work they do,” he said.

  She chuckled. “Isn’t that the truth? At least now you have more cold cases solved.”

  Arnold looked at her then, his face paling. “What?”

  “Steve was involved in covering up four murders of gang members about twenty-two years ago,” she said. “Mack has the confession already from a woman involved in all four of them. Her husband was in the Devil Riders’ gang and was murdered by the rival gang. So the Devil Riders took out four members of the rival gang in retaliation.”

  Arnold stared at her, reaching up to scratch his head. Then he shook his head and muttered on his way out abou
t too much work. Mack looked at Doreen, sighed.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered. “Still, you’re welcome.”

  He chuckled, snagged her up, and gave her a big hug. “Now will you sleep tonight?”

  She nodded. “I’ll sleep like a baby. Another job well done.”

  Epilogue

  Friday late afternoon …

  “All you need to do now,” Mack said, “is stay out of trouble.”

  Doreen shrugged. “How much trouble can I get in? I’ve been gardening all day, and I’m coming up to the big hydrangea bush. There’s no trouble I can get into with that.”

  He just looked at her. “Hydrangeas?”

  She shrugged. “Those big flowering plants. I promise I’ll spend tomorrow working in my garden.”

  He stared at her in doubt.

  She chuckled. “Of course, I can’t guarantee what I might find.”

  “You don’t get to find anything,” he said, a warning in his tone.

  “Well, why not? There was a gun in the gardenias. Maybe I’ll find …” She stopped, pondered for a moment. “How about I find handcuffs in the hydrangeas?” she announced triumphantly.

  “How about you don’t? How about you just stop trying to find anything?” And, with that, he turned and stormed out.

  Mutinously, she watched him walk out the front door. She trailed behind him, her gaze falling on the wheelbarrow with the little bit of dirt left. She still had to return the last of it to her neighbor.

  She picked in the handles to the wheelbarrow and pushed it over to his house. There she rapped on the door. When he opened it, glaring at her suspiciously, she said, “I just brought this back. I promise to get you some more for the bit I used.”