Read Savage Summer Page 4


  “That’s the part I don’t know.”

  “You sure he’s not watching her? Staking out her place? Dogs don’t like strangers coming in, do you, little fella?”

  Okay, Mike was warming up to the canine so much that it scared me. I’d never seen this side of her and it was worrisome to know she had a heart. Crouching down, she tossed a ball around the living room while Mooch tore after it. Doing this a few times, the little Pommie put on the brakes, jerking to a stop. Picking up his ears, he trotted to the patio doors, barking his little heart out.

  “He’s there!” she whispered.

  I grabbed my binoculars. As I tucked myself in the corner, I saw the scumbag creeping across her lawn.

  “What’s he doing?” she asked.

  “Just walking.”

  “Towards where?”

  “Towards her house, but he’s not going in,” I answered.

  “He’s not looking in either?”

  “Nope. Looks like he’s using her yard to get to the street.”

  “Wait a minute! It’s Wymar and then Spring. Spring is the next street. It runs parallel and I saw him slipping between two houses and you saw him barreling down it.”

  “So the bastard is headed to Spring!” Mike exclaimed as she sprinted towards the door. “I’m following him! You stay here and make sure he’s going that way and not doubling back.”

  Mike snuck out the back door. Making her way to the front, she knelt by her car. She timed it just right, waiting until the douchebag had crossed the street. Easing into her car, she started her engine, keeping her lights off. I came out of the house, cell phone in hand. When I couldn’t see her taillights, I put in the call.

  “What you got?” she answered.

  “He’s not doubling back. Do you have a visual?”

  “Not on him, just the van. I’m on the corner of Spring and can see it up the street. Oh, wait! Mr. Dog Killer has arrived. What the hell does he have around his neck? A camera? Not for nothing, but this dude needs to go on a diet. Oops!”

  “What? What?” I queried as Moochie wandered out the open door. I grabbed him before he got any further, but he wasn’t intent on messing up the operation. A lover and not a fighter, he licked my face.

  “Nothing. He just passed by, so I had to duck down. Me going to follow bad guy now. See ya’!”

  CHAPTER 8

  Mike was true to her word. She returned a half an hour later with an address in her hand.

  “452 Tullis,” I read out loud. “I owe you one, Mike.”

  “Nah, we’re even. You stopped those meatheads from taking a poke at me. Could have ruined the natural contour of my nose and made it look more like yours.”

  We both took a hit of the coffee I’d made while the miniature breed begged for another treat. Seemed half the box wasn’t enough. I reached to the side of the couch, and drew out another.

  “Just one more, but that’s it for the night.”

  He whined like he understood. It was enough reassurance for me.

  “You said you took a look around. What’d you see?” I asked. The dog was already going back on his promise.

  “Nothing crazy. Home seemed well kept, inside and out. Oh, and this is our guy.”

  She handed me her cell. It’d been taken through the window, but it was good enough.

  “You’re right. He does need to go on a diet.”

  “Yeah, he’s almost as flabbola as you,” she quipped, but I wouldn’t let joshing get me down.

  “I could have the guys at the station run a check.”

  “Good idea, but I’ll do my own snooping. As you’ve probably guessed, I’ve got everything set up at home. And I nearly forgot. I came by to tell you about Candice and that doofus from Cali.”

  “Don’t believe you mentioned his name.”

  “I didn’t and it’s Lamprey. Joseph Lamprey. Anyway, she called me this afternoon. She said she swung by his place, which I knew already, since I had her on tape, entering his room.”

  “And?”

  “And he wanted to do an audition tape of her for the film.”

  “Which she did.”

  “Which she did not. That’s why this is important,” she corrected.

  “Okay, you got me with that one. Why didn’t she take him up on his offer?”

  “Because it involved nudity and three-way action. He said the part she was up for called for it, and that the director was insisting on the audition tape—to make sure the actress they hired had no inhibitions.”

  “My, my, my. These directors … so demanding.”

  “Yeah, anyway, my Candy isn’t as dumb as she looks—and don’t tell her I said that because I’ll only deny it.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “The point is that even she figured out full penetration is not a prerequisite for a starring role in a legitimate feature film. I was wondering why he closed the drapes.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah, this guy and other chick came in and the curtains get closed. I thought maybe …”

  “The action was for him. And it was … sort of. So Candy isn’t having an affair after all. She was only trying to get a part in a film.”

  “Nope, she was boffing him. She admitted it right after she broke down crying. Wish I could have been there to comfort her, but I will tonight.”

  “Guess that’s where you’re headed after leaving here?”

  “Sure ‘nuff. Course I paid the rat bastard back. Well, partially, anyway.”

  “You told his wife?”

  “That’s coming. For now, I bugged his room. His phone, cameras in the living room and bedroom. Imagine him thinking I was a maid. I mean, the uniform I borrowed didn’t even fit.”

  Mooch hadn’t given up. Elevating the pitch of his whine, it was now damaging to eardrums and flying birds.

  “Here. Knock yourself out,” I said as I tossed a handful on the ground.

  Mike stretched out in the lounge chair I kept around for comfort.

  “Yeah, I should be going. Want to catch Candice’s last set. What that girl can do upside down on a pole. Hey, what’s this?”

  Picking up a silver chain off an end table, she dangled the jewelry she’d found next to her coffee cup.

  “It’s Ruth’s. It was the last gift I’d given her before she died. And before you ask me what it’s doing on that table, I don’t know. Last time I saw it was when I visited her at Bramley. She was wearing it.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “Ruth,” I murmured as I stretched out on my sheets.

  It wasn’t her. It was only the wet tongue of a certain neighbor’s dog licking my face that woke me.

  Funny how I never gave where Mooch would sleep a second thought, but the canine made up for the earlier omission by following me up the stairs and hopping on the mattress. I should have realized that he’d be used to cuddling at night. Marge was the type to sleep with her dog. I didn’t want to be an ogre to a dog that had just been poisoned, so I complied with the arrangements, even going so far as to wrap my arm around the surprisingly soft girth.

  Why Mooch had chosen the first break of dawn’s early light to shower me with affection was strange. Why? Because it coincided with another event. Yup, another phone call. The blocked ID confirmed it was from the caller I’d dubbed Dr. Shadows. The clown was back, wanting to pull another prank

  “What the hell do you want?”

  It wasn’t how I usually greeted callers, but I was in no mood for anyone or anybody calling my Ruthie a slut.

  “I want Ruth to leave me alone,” came the diabolical answer. He knew what buttons to push, and I took the bait.

  “What? What does that mean?”

  “It means she’s haunting me, Mr. Savage. That’s why I’m making these calls. She won’t leave me alone.”

  Dropping my head into my hand, I excoriated myself for even picking up.

  “It’s all right, Mr. Savage. You don
’t have to say anything. I know you know what I’m talking about, but here’s another clue.”

  Oh, fuck! Now what was he going to do? Give me the initials of the person she was carrying on with? I wouldn’t answer these calls anymore. I wouldn’t.

  “Ready?”

  No.

  “What was her favorite Greek mythological character? When you figure that out, you’ll understand more about her than you ever did before. Keep digging and you might discover her secret.”

  “Secret? Are you still talking about her having an affair?”

  “Not even close.”

  I listened to the dial tone. This jerk’s timing was impeccable. It’s a nice touch to hang up just when you reach that dramatic arc. Tossing the phone to the side, I answered my own question as to why Mooch had woken me up. The Texas Two-Step he was performing pointed towards his bladder needing emptying.

  I slid on a pair of jeans, threw on a hoodie, and grabbed a leash. I went back for the phone. I needed to make a call of my own.

  * * * * *

  “Wolfie!” I greeted, shaking my old colleague’s hand.

  “Savage!” he gushed. Wolfie didn’t gush often, so I guessed he was as glad as I was to renew old bonds. It was funny, but having a descriptive last name like Savage meant I never had to think up a nickname, but Rupert Jones did. Hence, Wolfie.

  “You’re looking great,” he lied. Patting my gut, I set the record straight.

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it. Joined a gym.”

  “No shit. I’m glad you’re coming around. You had me worried, but you’ve gotta give these things time.”

  Wolfie would know. He and his wife Dottie lost a child to leukemia a few years ago. As to which of our tragedies was greater, they both sucked. They fell into the “more than someone should have to bear” category.

  “Yup. It helps to have a motivation also.”

  “And what’s yours?” he asked, sipping from the glass of water the waitress at the trendy sandwich shop placed down.

  “Finding out who killed Ruthie.”

  Eyeing me over the rim, the burly African-American wiped at his lips with his pinky.

  “Yeah, well, that’s going to be tough. With the case going this cold and all—wait a minute. Is that why you wanted to meet me for lunch? Do you think we held something back from you?”

  “Nope. You’d never do something like that. You’re true blue, Wolfie.”

  “Good. I’m glad you know that,” he replied as he glanced through the menu. “I kinda was hoping this meeting had to do with reviving the poker games. I’ll have the sirloin decker and coffee,” he said to the waitress.

  “The grilled chicken salad for me. Ranch will do fine. Oh, and a non-sweetened anything. Surprise me,” I said with a smile to the sweet young thing taking our orders. With the ritual of making a selection out of the way, I picked up on the last thought. “I take it that the regular sessions didn’t continue?”

  “Nope. Ruth’s death knocked the wind out of all of our sails. She was one classy lady. We all knew what she meant to you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, gulping down some diet cola. “No, this isn’t about the card games, although that might be a good idea. You see, I’m sort of working on this case …”

  “Case? Besides Ruth’s murder?”

  “Yes. This neighbor’s dog was poisoned. The owner’s pretty upset and offered to pay me if I had a look around. I could use the money, so why the hell not?”

  “Can’t think of a reason in the world,” he said, spreading the napkin on his lap. Our lunches served, we got to munching.

  “Anyway, we got this address and I was wondering if you could run a check. Want to at least know who it is prowling in Marge’s backyard and leaving fatal treats for her dog.”

  “Marge? Not that woman with the red hair. The one that complained about our card game?”

  “Yes, it’s Mrs. Danvers, all right. And thank God she did,” I replied, swallowing a bite. “And her hair isn’t all that red.”

  Wolfie gave me one of his large-eyed double takes. He was quite the comedian.

  “Okay, it isn’t anymore. She used a drabber, I think.”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind. Ruth was trying to metrosexualize me. She gave me way too much information on women’s beauty secrets.”

  “Gotcha. Dottie’s been trying that for years, only my hard head doesn’t take to unnecessary details. But necessary ones are a different matter. For instance, who’s we?”

  “This importer/exporter I go to the gym with. Mike happened to be over the other night when this creeper took another tour of Marge’s premises. She followed him and got the address.”

  “She? Mike’s Michelle, I take it?”

  “Yes, but she’s more Mike.”

  “So I can rule out any mutual lust developing?”

  “Affirmative. Let’s just say that platonically, we’re two crazy kids. Isn’t that enough?”

  “I suppose for now,” he responded, taking another bite. “Savage. Goddamn, it’s good to see you, buddy.”

  “And any day is a good one when it includes you, my friend.”

  CHAPTER 10

  I would have liked to head home, but there was one more pit stop to make.

  “Curt!”

  My mother was so happy to see me that she nearly hit her head on the rim of the oven.

  “Careful, Mom. Wouldn’t want to you knock yourself silly on my account.”

  She ignored the droll aside. Pinching my face between her fingers, she covered it with kisses. For a second, I thought I was home with Mooch.

  “Bill!” she screamed out. “Come see who’s here!”

  “Dad’s home?” I inquired. He hadn’t missed a day’s work in over thirty years. I expected to see him carried in on a stretcher. That was what it would take for him to call in sick—total incapacitation.

  Thank God I had a few inches on my mother. Otherwise, my dad would never have been able to see me—not with my mom playing boa constrictor.

  “Son,” he uttered, his bottom lip trembling. Had it been that long? Or had he been that worried?

  Connie wasn’t done. She wouldn’t be until I passed out from lack of oxygen. I gave her a hug back. I think that was what she’d been waiting for because she eased off, that glazed look no longer frosting her light brown eyes.

  I went down the assembly line. My dad smacked me on my arm before diving in for a bear hug. I had to admit that the affection felt good. I didn’t know why I was so reluctant to acknowledge that fact, other than I was too stubborn for my own good.

  “Who’s there?”

  An older female voice rang out. The years showing on the terse query, the shrill vice sounded familiar. I cocked my head, trying to think who it could be.

  “It’s your aunt. She’s visiting from Cleveland. That’s why Bill’s home today.”

  Damn, why didn’t I call ahead? Not that I had anything against my dad’s older sister, but cheesh! Birdy could go on forever. I’d just wanted to duck in and out and now I was in the precarious position of being snowed in by conversation. And where does a Patricia get a nickname like Birdy? Still, I couldn’t reconcile the thin tone with the vibrant woman that used to dance on tables during family outings.

  “She’s been sick,” my mom added in a whisper.

  Are all moms clairvoyant? Mine is. Just from the look in my eyes, she could tell what I was thinking.

  “Oh,” I mumbled as I gave my dad another embrace.

  “Better go say hello,” he urged.

  “Guess so,” I answered, untangling my arms and pulling my shirt down. Wouldn’t do to look unkempt. Especially since Birdy had a way of straightening things for you. I’d beat her to that punch.

  I waded into deep water, making it to the sun porch where I suspected she was waiting, but I was taken aback by the frail presence. Yes, I’d been told she was sick, but not so ill that she’d lo
st half her body weight. And Aunt Birdy wasn’t that big to begin with. To top things off, there was a walker by her side.

  I wondered why my mom had never told me, but then I remembered that she’d tried to. There’d been more than one message mentioning Dad’s sister, but I’d never called back to learn the details. I’d been in so much pain, I never figured that others were suffering just as much—only in their own way.

  “Aunt Birdy,” I greeted cheerfully. “It’s so good to see you.” When I approached her, she reached her arms up and turned her face for a kiss, which I enthusiastically delivered. I hugged her for a while to make up for the months of ignoring her condition. I felt bad. Like a guy that takes away his daughter’s new puppy and leaves it at the pound out of spite.

  “Curt. I’m glad to see you’re out and about,” she commented with a smile.

  She’d aged. Being in poor health will do that to you. No longer the woman that looked ten years younger than her chronological age, she now appeared older than Methuselah.

  “Thanks. I’m sorry about not being there for you, Aunt Birdy. I really didn’t know.”

  Her eyes crinkled as my sentiments were assimilated. She wasn’t one to hold a grudge, and she wasn’t about to start now.

  “Nonsense. You were going through your own travails. Besides, I’m fine now.”

  My mom and dad took chairs, entering into my pathetic conversation. So many ways to say you’re sorry, and I had to pick the worst one. But at least she was gracious.

  “Yes, you are, Pat,” my mom chimed in. “Bill and I are so happy you came to stay with us for a few days.”

  “She’s right,” my dad agreed. “You’ll be back to yourself in no time. The worst is behind you, Patty.”

  A slight twinkle appeared in her eyes before dwindling just as fast. I thought perhaps it was a sign they were right and not just saying things to make her happy—although there was nothing wrong with that either.

  “Curt, are you staying for supper? There’s plenty,” my mom inquired.

  “Yes, I’d love you to. We could spend some time and chat,” Birdy expounded as she took my hand.

  I didn’t want to stay any more than I’d wanted this family reunion, but what the hey? I remembered the lesson I’d learned with Ruth in never taking anything for granted.

  “Sure, I’ll stay.”