“If you say so,” he said, in that aggravating passive-aggressive way people have of letting you know they think you are totally wrong.
I had no doubt Jonathan had told the police what he believed he’d seen. Tension tightened my arms and shoulders as I had a sudden rush of raw anxiety. This was why Cathy had questioned Robin so intently and in such detail … because of Jonathan’s big mouth. And his even bigger mistake. I didn’t know who he’d seen, but it hadn’t been my husband. I took a deep breath to control my desire to snap at him. Or pop him one in his confident face.
“I sure hope we don’t have more nights like last night,” Deborah said, leaning forward with an artificial smile.
Message received.
But I was loaded for bear now.
“I certainly didn’t want a woman murdered in my backyard,” I said sweetly. “I didn’t want my babysitter to vanish, either. I hope the police get to the bottom of this, so we don’t have to be scared of something else happening.”
Sophie was diplomatic enough to choose this moment to make a little “Ehhh” noise, which of course was adorable, but her next noise came from another area of her body and was less pleasant. Deborah and Jonathan rose to leave hastily. Thank you, Sophie, I thought.
Though I managed to keep my smile tacked on my face, I was glad to see the back of them. I stood in the doorway, Sophie in my arms in an odorous bundle, as I watched Jonathan and Deborah enter into a spirited discussion as they went out to the street, walked down the sidewalk, and turned in at the flagstone path to their own front door. (God forbid they should cross on the grass.) After a minute I heard barking. They’d let Lulu out.
“They were dumb for thinking they saw your daddy, huh?” I told Sophie. I could tell she agreed with me. I shut the front door behind me, and realized it was such a lovely day I ought to take Sophie outside … after I’d changed her diaper. Maybe we’d sit on the patio for a while. That sounded incredibly normal and relaxing, and I was ready for both.
Chapter Ten
Doing anything with an infant requires planning and several steps. I grabbed the bouncer with one hand, Sophie with the other arm, and went to the patio door. I set down the bouncer, opened the patio door, stepped outside, and reached back to get the bouncer seat. I set it safely in the shadow, and shut the door with my hip. I strapped Sophie into the bouncer. She was wearing a ruffled sun hat.
And then I collapsed into the deck chair, pretty much wiped out. Being sick had drained me of energy and strength. I felt enormous relief that Robin was home, that Sophie was no longer my sole responsibility. My world was not a surreal blur any longer. I turned the pages of the local paper languidly, until I found an article on the elder-abuse case Cathy had mentioned. I felt my mouth pucker up with distaste. It was awful. But there was nothing about the Clifton party shooting; maybe it had occurred too late to make the press run. The paper came out twice a week, now.
I dropped the pages on the ground beside me. I closed my eyes and pretended the backyard looked normal. No crime scene tape, no trampled grass. All was well; all was calm.
I fell into a pleasant stupor, near sleep but not quite. Sophie’s eyes were closed and her face was relaxed. The Cohens had let Lulu inside when she’d barked at their back door, so there was almost no noise. Our street is not a high-traffic area, and the next street east (backing on ours) was lined with houses older and statelier, with expensive and well-grown hedges of boxwood or photinia circling the backyards. Those hedges provided a sound and sight barrier.
We had countered their boxwood hedges with one of our own, at least along our beautiful fence. We’d gotten tall ones for an immediate result, and they’d cost an arm and a leg. We couldn’t splurge on the big plants to go all around the yard, so we were open to view from north and south, from Cohens to Herman sisters.
Speaking of whom … well, thinking of whom … I heard the distinctive squeak of the Herman screen door opening, and then the sound of it slapping shut. After a lazy moment of curiosity, I opened my eyes. I was looking straight into Chaka’s. He was standing on the other side of the fence observing me intently, in absolute silence. I was startled, in an unpleasant way. But Chaka had never been anything but friendly, and I’d watched Peggy and Lena work on his training every day.
“Hi, Chaka,” I said. I’d read somewhere you weren’t supposed to bare your teeth at dogs, since it might be interpreted as a sign of aggression. I smiled with my lips closed. (Though I wondered if dogs even registered that you were smiling, since it was a human facial expression.)
Chaka’s whippy tail began waving to and fro. Peggy had told me that meant the dog was interested, not that it was necessarily happy with you. But the wagging did make me feel better.
After glancing at Sophie to make sure she was still asleep, I strolled over to the fence. “Hello, good dog,” I said, for lack of anything better to say, and Chaka’s tail moved faster.
Peggy came out of her back door. She seemed pleased when she saw I was making nice with Chaka.
“How are you today, Roe?” she called, walking over to the fence. “I hear you were really sick.”
I didn’t even bother to ask Peggy who’d told her that. “Well, I’m not running a fever anymore. Just a little wobbly.” My illness was not more important than the fact that a woman had died not five yards away from where I stood.
“I’m glad you’re better,” Peggy said. Close up, I noticed that Peggy’s face had many fine lines, but her fitness and vigor made her seem much younger. Today she didn’t seem quite as lively as usual. None of us were.
“I’d apologize for your lost sleep, but there was nothing I could do about it,” I said. “The Cohens told me Lulu barked all night. I hope you and Lena weren’t too troubled?”
Peggy snorted. “Lulu barks when Deborah Cohen farts,” she said.
I was so startled I couldn’t stifle a laugh.
“I shouldn’t be crude,” she added without sounding sorry at all. “But really, that dachshund is a little yapper.”
“Are all dachshunds like that?”
“No, no! They can be nice little dogs. But they’re stubborn. They’ll do anything you let them get away with.” Peggy shook her head. “If Jonathan and Deborah just worked with Lulu, she could still be trained to be a better pet.”
And again, Peggy wasn’t talking about the murder. Well, okay. “Chaka is very well behaved,” I said. Not only was that the key to Peggy’s (and Lena’s) heart, it had the virtue of being true. “I’m sure it’s because you spend a lot of time with him.” Flattering, but also true.
“We had to do some retraining after we adopted him,” she said. “But he’s such a smart dog, it’s been easy. Mostly. His breed are naturally quiet dogs, so we started out well on that score.”
“I’ve never heard him bark before,” I said. I looked down at his sleek golden-brown head. “Can I pet him?”