CHAPTER 2
Marla happily anticipated going home to her three best friends, Larry, Moe, and Curly. Something about coming home to her dogs settled her. They made her feel needed and wanted. One thing she loved about her dogs was that no matter how bad her day had been, seeing all of them immediately put a smile on her face. They loved her unconditionally and she felt the same about them. All of them had been rescues, Marla included. She had a sweet set-up for them and she never had to worry about them being locked-up too long. A pet door in the laundry room led out to a large fenced backyard that they had full access to all day and night. She had installed automatic feeders and waterers, so they never went without. The added benefit of feeling safer with them there was just icing on the cake, so to speak. Larry intimidated by size and Moe by temperament. Curly’s job was to sound the alert and dance around the other two dogs. Marla knew anyone who thought Curly was dangerous was just plain stupid. He was a very small mixed breed and his tongue hung out the side of his mouth constantly, even with it shut. Marla knew the minute she’d set eyes on him that she couldn’t leave him behind. Curly was an excellent judge of character when it came to strangers. If Curly liked you he didn’t hesitate to let you know by kissing you enthusiastically with his lolling tongue. If he didn’t like you he would run to Moe and bark at him until Moe intimidated the person to Curly’s satisfaction, usually backing them into a corner to cower until Marla shooed him away.
Marla knew something was wrong the instant she walked through the door - no dogs came rushing up to greet her. She froze just inside the front door and listened for any sign of the dogs, calling out to them. She heard barking and scratching from the other side of the closed laundry room door. That door was never closed. Marla kept a very heavy rock in front of it to keep it open so the dogs weren’t closed off from their food and water. Someone had to have moved that rock. Marla pulled out her cell phone and called the police, explaining that there was a possible breaking and entering at her house. She was instructed by the 911 operator to wait outside for the police to arrive. When an unmarked car came barreling up the driveway Marla was surprised to see Pete Jensen charging out the door, gun drawn.
“Stay here, I’ll check the interior.” He instructed her quickly as he entered her house. Since it was just a small, two bedroom bungalow it didn’t take long for Peter to make his rounds. He came to the front door and motioned her in through the screen door.
“Everything looks fine. What makes you think someone broke in?” Pete asked while he pulled a notebook and pen from his pants pocket.
Today was the first time Marla had ever seen him without his reflective sun glasses on and was taken aback by the deep blue color of his eyes. He was stunningly handsome and she had to stop herself from drooling openly. She swallowed hard before answering.
“The laundry room door is closed and I never close it. I even keep a big rock in front of it to keep it from closing out the dogs.” Marla realized immediately that it sounded lame, even though it was real. He walked over to the door and opened it before Marla could warn him about the dogs. They were on him in seconds, greeting him happily as Curly tried to jump up high enough to give him his kisses. He barely acknowledged them as he looked at Marla incredulously.
“That’s it? You called because a door was closed?”
“Yes. Like I said though, I never, ever close it. I knew the second I opened the front door that something was wrong. The dogs didn’t greet me and they always do. Someone wanted them to stay out of the house, I just know it.” Marla was starting to get upset. Peter Jensen just plain made her nervous, sensing his judgmental attitude. Of all the cops on the force they had to send him, mister no personality.
He checked all the doors and windows for any signs of forced entry.
“Are all the other doors and windows the way you left them?” Pete asked, trying hard to hide his irritation.
Marla checked around the house quickly before answering.
“Yes, they’re fine.” Marla nervously began to twist the bottom of her shirt in her hands. She couldn’t explain the panic that was taking her over. Her breathing became labored and her chest felt like a heavy weight was on it. Soon dizziness set in from lack of oxygen. That was her last thought before she hit the floor, passed out cold.
When Marla felt someone tapping insistently on her cheek her eyes began to flutter open. She was on the couch and had no idea how she’d gotten there. De ja vu’ struck her hard. She bolted upright, only to fall back again when the dizziness overtook her. Peter had a glass of water in his hand and was sitting on the edge of the couch with her.
“Here. Drink this.” He thrust the glass into her hand and she did as instructed. She sat up gingerly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t even see that coming. Thanks for the water,” Marla stammered.
“You had a panic attack but you’ll be all right in a few minutes. I don’t see any signs of forced entry but I’ll send out the fingerprint crew just in case. Are there anyone else’s fingerprints we might find that belong here?” Pete held his breath, waiting for the answer and not knowing why.
“No. Just mine, I live alone.”
Relief suddenly flooded him.
“Is there anyone that you can think of that might have done this? Do you keep anything of value here?” Pete asked calmly.
It occurred to Marla to explain how she had come to live in Wynott, but decided it probably didn’t have any bearing on this incident. If he needed to know she was sure someone else at the police department would fill him in.
“No, I have no idea who may have done this and I don’t keep anything valuable here.”
“Well, let’s see what the CSI team finds out. I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions.” Peter turned and walked out the door without another word. He was pissed to have been sent. Any rookie could have handled this with his eyes closed.
Pete stormed his way back into the police department and headed straight for the Captain’s office, barging in without knocking. His face was red with fury.
“Why was I sent out on this call? Any blind rookie could have handled this and you know it! I paid my dues back in New York and I expect to be treated with more respect than this!” Pete was yelling and he didn’t care if the whole world heard him. Captain Perkins just sat there with her fingers laced together, patiently waiting for him to finish his tirade.
“Are you done?” Captain Perkins asked.
“For now, yes.”
“Good. First, I don’t allow people to storm into my office without knocking, let alone yelling their heads off. If you have a problem in the future you will follow proper procedure. Period. Second, no one is above any assignment in this department. We’re a small town and we work together. When we were short on staff I was answering calls and manning the front desk just like everyone else here. Third, and finally, this case is a special circumstance and I felt someone of a higher caliber was called for.”
Captain Perkins pushed out of her chair with a huff. Walking over to the window she clasped her hands behind her back. Her tone softened considerably as she continued.
“Marla Winters showed up on the town’s doorstep three years ago. She has no recollection of her previous life or how she got here. She was found on the side of the road unconscious, beaten and with only the clothes on her back and a handbag. We investigated for over a year and we don’t know where she came from any more today than we did the day she was found. There’s a possibility it could be related to her past so I sent an experienced investigator. Did you find out anything?”
Now that Pete understood the Captain’s intentions better he let out a slow gust of air, allowing his anger to go with it.
“No signs of forced entry. Seems the reason she felt invaded was because her laundry room door was closed and she swears she always keeps it propped o
pen with a big rock. After she passed out on me and I got her up and going again I promised her I’d send CSI to check things out. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She’s an exceptionally neat housekeeper and everything seemed to be in place.” Peter concluded. Now that he had more information he found himself convinced that someone probably had perpetrated at least a home invasion. His gut told him something sinister was going on.
“All right. Keep me posted. Marla’s not an alarmist so I believe her, but everyone makes mistakes.”
Pete got the hidden meaning and nodded his head in agreement, leaving her office a little more humble. Instead of sitting at his desk thinking about the possibilities of a break-in, Pete found himself going over his analysis of the lovely Marla’s fine form. She was a cute, tight little package, slim but not skinny, with all the right curves in all the right places. Of course she smelled incredibly good, like the delicacies she created--irresistible. What surprised him was how well her body fit with his when he had carried her to the couch. Her skin was soft and creamy as new milk, flawless is what came to mind. Pete liked the fact that she was petite and perky, unless she was passed out on the couch. He loved the rich color of her long auburn hair, it was thick and luxurious even in the ever-present bun she wore it in. He allowed himself to fantasize about how far down her back it would go once it was released from its pins. He wanted to take the pins out himself and watch it tumble down her back, then play with it, bury himself into it… Whoa boy. Settle down here and keep your eyes on the business at hand. Pete forced himself to stop before he broke out in a sweat right there at his desk.
Marla hadn’t heard any news about the results of the fingerprint analysis and she didn’t want to ask Peter in front of the customers at the bakery. She had only told her friends who worked with her about the incident, swearing them to secrecy. It always amazed her how a story could start out one way and when you heard it repeated a couple of days later it would be barely recognizable. People add and subtract information liberally and Marla didn’t want to be the source of a town panic attack at the thought of a crime spree starting. People, no matter where tended to overreact. She decided to stop into the police station after the morning rush and see if she could get any answers. Pete came in and grabbed his order in his usual gruff manner, paid, and was out the door within a minute. Well, so much for worrying about any conversation that might upset the town.
Marla filled a couple of boxes with a variety of baked goods to take with her to the police station. She hated wasting food and always donated the leftover’s, rotating between the homeless shelter and nursing home. Today she would add the police department into the rotation. What went better together than cops and donuts? She chuckled to herself at the stereotype.
After she walked into the police station and asked to see Peter. She handed the baked goods to the officer working the desk, explaining that they’d just go stale if someone didn’t eat them. They, of course, were happy to comply. Peter sauntered slowly to the desk. He moved like a panther and Marla caught herself staring at him while inappropriate thoughts flashed quickly through her mind. He was definitely handsome and sexy. That is, until he opened his mouth, then he was rude and arrogant.
“Marla, follow me. We’ll talk in one of the interrogation rooms.”
The room was stark white with one large table and four folding chairs arranged around it. Two on each long side of the table. The black tiles on the floor were old and worn, visible scuff marks showed where the chairs had been continually dragged over its surface. Bright florescent lights hung from the ceiling, punctuating the bland décor.
“Have a seat. I just got the report from the fingerprint team.” He took a few seconds to scan the report before speaking again. “Apparently there were some fingerprints found around the edges of the pet door, both interior and exterior. They’re running them through our database for possible matches. Would the dogs allow someone into the yard?” Peter asked.
“Not unless someone bribed them and I think I have a good idea of how they did that. Moe can’t tolerate rawhide bones, even though he loves them. He threw up bits of one later that night. I didn’t think anything of it until now. I just assumed one of the neighbors had given him one through the fence, but they know he can‘t tolerate them. So now what happens?” Based on the bland, bored look on his face Marla assumed he still wasn’t convinced someone had broken in.
“We’ll have to see if we get a match on the prints. You haven’t thought of anyone who may have done this, some ex-boyfriend or someone else with a grudge, maybe an employee that you fired?”
“No. My memory doesn’t work that well though, so we can’t go by that. Has anyone else had any break-ins lately?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Why did you faint the other day?” Pete asked bluntly.
“I assume they filled you in on my circumstances. After they found me at the side of the road with a concussion the doctors said it may happen occasionally without explanation.” Marla said cautiously, feeling guilty about not having told him everything herself.
“Yes, they did, but not until after I’d got back to the station. It would have been better if you had told me while I was there though. Is there anything else you’re not telling me?” Pete phrased it to make sure Marla knew he didn’t appreciate not being told up front.
“No. I thought maybe you already knew, this being a small town and all, but you’re right, I should have told you.” Marla confessed but didn’t apologize.
“Will your boss be mad at you for taking time off to come and talk to me? We could go back to the bakery and talk if that works better for you?” After a few seconds it dawned on Marla that Pete had no idea that she was the owner of the bakery. She knew he wouldn’t take the news very well.
“Umm, I’m the owner of the bakery Pete. Didn’t you know that?”
“No. If I had known I would have gone to the bakery and questioned some of the employees. It would have been helpful to know.” Pete snapped.
She expected the anger but it still put her on the defensive, causing her to lash out before thinking things through.
“I guess you’re not the crack investigator they thought you were when they hired you then. All you had to do was ask, it’s not a deep dark secret. Let me know if your highly skilled detective work turns up any new information.” Marla stood and started to pounce out the door.
“You know, you don’t have to bribe me with baked goods to get me to do my job. And I will have more information for you soon.” Pete was standing now, his lips spread thin with anger and his hands on his hips. He knew he should be more angry with himself for not asking the right questions, but she just pissed him off with all her secrets.
“FYI the donuts are for everyone at the station, not just you.” Marla stormed out of the room and waved goodbye to everyone as she walked out of the building. Everyone turned an accusing stare onto Pete when they realized she was upset. One guy even made a physically impossible suggestion with his finger to Pete as he walked by.
She charged into the bakery, glad that there weren’t any customers because the last thing she felt like doing was being nice and smiley. The more she thought about Pete and his attitude the more it pissed her off. She found Betsy sitting in the bakery with a cup of coffee and staring at the ovens, as if willing them to do something extraordinary.
“Betsy, can I talk to you for a minute? I need to vent.” Marla didn’t wait for an answer before she started her monolog of her meeting with Pete. When the story was out she looked to Betsy for some pearl of wisdom. She got nothing.
“Well! Don’t you think he was out of line?”
“No, you started it with the crack about him being a crummy detective. From my point of view you owe him an apology. Sorry, kiddo.” Betsy shrugged her shoulders in apology.
Marla thought about it for a minute before defending herself, and then real
ized she had no defense. Pete was new in town and she shouldn’t have assumed he knew information about her. She took a deep breath before looking back to Betsy.
“You’re right. I forgot how it is to be new in town. Without your help I could never have kept everyone straight when I opened this place. The guy just gets on my last nerve, he’s so rude. I’ve never once seen him smile or chat with anyone.” Marla lamely pointed out, trying to justify her behavior.
“The problem is you’re attracted to him, and when he doesn’t show you any attention it frustrates you.” Betsy said this very calmly and matter of fact.
“What? You think I like him?”
“No, I said you’re attracted to him, sexually. Can’t you feel the electricity in the air sizzle when you two are in the same room together? Why do you think you’re avoiding him by having his order ready for him every morning?” Betsy spoke as if Marla were mentally slow.
“I do it as a convenience for a customer.” The air had flown out of Marla’s sails as she finished her sentence. She didn’t do it for anyone else but him. “Man, I hate it when you’re right!”
Betsy chuckled as she got up to remove some pans from the oven.
“Even if I am attracted to him there’s nothing I can do about it anyway.”
“Why not, for crying out loud? Because you think there’s a possibility that you might have a husband out there somewhere? Don’t you think if someone was looking for you they’d have found you by now? Three years of living out in the open, running your own business, and looking yourself surely would have turned up something by now. I think it’s pretty safe to assume you were single when you got dumped here. You had earrings on, but no ring, which tells me whoever dumped you didn’t give a shit about any jewelry you might have been wearing, let alone you. You’re a young woman. What was the estimate the doctors gave you? Twenty seven? Tops. Are you planning to spend the rest of your life alone and celibate just because you don’t know about your past? That’s just plain stupid.”
“I just feel like it’s being deceitful somehow.” Marla confessed.
“It’s nothing that couldn’t be worked out if the situation ever comes around. Honey, don’t waste your life by working yourself to death. There are so many other wonderful things to experience that you’re dismissing. Do you ever think about your future in any other terms besides work?” Betsy asked kindly, like a mother would.
“No, I don’t dare go there, it’s too depressing.” Marla whispered. “Think about it, please. There’s more to life than work. I think any man that had you would be luckier than he probably deserved and you’d be an exceptional mother. Don’t exclude those possibilities Marla; they’re all part of life.” “I promise I’ll think about it.”