Блейз Клемент - Duplicity Dogged Тhe Dachshund

But on the ride down in the elevator, I remembered the blank expression Denton had given me when I mentioned the rattlesnakes. I didn’t want to believe it, but it was possible that he hadn’t had anything to do with the snakes in my apartment. And if he hadn’t, who had?

In the parking lot, the tail was on his cell phone with a worried frown on his face. He looked relieved when he saw me come out, and hurriedly hung up. My own cell phone was ringing by the time I got in the Bronco. I didn’t need to look at the ID readout to know it was Guidry. I didn’t answer it. I wanted to savor this delicious feeling of victory for a while longer before I had to face the fact that I hadn’t won anything at all, and there was a good chance I had put myself in even more danger than I’d been in before.

A little voice in my head said, Now see, that’s the reason why you can’t be a deputy anymore .

The little voice was right, but I still wasn’t sorry. Hitting Leo Brossi had felt better than anything I’d done in a long time.

17

Itook Tamiami Trail along the marina’s curve to Osprey Avenue, then turned on Siesta Drive to go over the north bridge and back to Siesta Key. I wanted to explore the odd look that had passed between Josephine and Pete and Priscilla when I told them about the truck trying to run me down. Too many people knew things I didn’t know. I don’t like being ignorant, especially when my life is on the line.

At the Metzgers’ house, Priscilla opened the door and silently beckoned me inside. She was wearing a knit top about the size of a cocktail napkin, and her thin upper arms bore large purple thumb bruises. I followed her down the hall and looked anxiously at the baby in the playpen. She was unmarked and standing, smiling happily at her mother. When I looked at Josephine, she was watching me with a veiled woman-to-woman acknowledgment in her eyes.

Josephine said, “Your bruises are looking better, Dixie.”

She stressed your , and Priscilla reddened.

I said, “Remember the truck that chased me? Can’t be too many of them around. I’d like to know if either of you knows somebody with a truck like that.”

Josephine’s mouth tightened and her eyes flicked toward Priscilla, but she shook her head.

“If I knew somebody was trying to kill you, Dixie, I sure wouldn’t keep quiet about it.”

Priscilla blushed again, but she kept her head bent over her sewing machine. The baby squealed and pumped her chubby knees while she held the top rail of the playpen with both hands. I went over to the baby and picked her up. I couldn’t help myself. She gave me a beatific smile and drooled on my hand.

Priscilla said, “Ooooh, gross!” and leaped up to dry my fingers with a tissue. “She’s teething,” she said. “I hope it won’t last much longer.”

She spoke in a child’s breathless rush. I supposed she’d never spoken in my presence before because she hadn’t had anything to say.

Josephine looked up from her sewing machine and Priscilla hurried back to her own place. She was stitching something that looked like a monster tutu. I remembered when Christy had drooled like that when her teeth were coming in, but I didn’t remember being grossed out about it the way Priscilla was. The difference probably was that I had been twenty-six when she was born and I doubted that Priscilla was even eighteen.

As I put the baby back in her playpen and helped her find her chew toy, Josephine said, “Dixie have you heard from Pete? He remembered something he wanted to tell you. Something about Denton Ferrelli and a man named Brossi.”

Priscilla’s head bobbed up from behind her sewing machine, then she bent back to the tutu thing.

The baby squealed at me, and I leaned over and smoothed the fine hair on her head.

I said, “She’ll be walking soon.”

Priscilla looked up and smiled proudly. “I walk her around a lot to give her practice.”

I smiled. “I did that too, with my little girl.”

“You have a little girl?”

“I did. She was killed when she was three.”

I was shocked to hear myself say that. I’d never before spoken of Christy so easily, never before put her into a normal conversation like that. Somehow it felt right to do it, as if she were still with me, living in my words about her.

The room was silent, both sewing machines brought to a halt, a tiny moment of recognition of Christy.

I said, “I have a dog waiting for me. I’d better be on my way.”

Neither of them said good-bye, just gave me silent waves. Nobody seemed to want to intrude on the moment that had just passed.

As I was getting into the Bronco, Priscilla ran out and put her hand on my arm.

In her sweet little-girl voice, she said, “What you said … about somebody chasing you in a truck?”

“Uh-hunh?”

“Well, the thing is, I may know somebody who has a truck like that—one of those trucks up on big tires … .”

Her voice faded more with each word until it was almost nonexistent, as if she were losing all the air in her lungs as she talked. I waited a moment to give her a chance to go on, but she seemed unable to say more.

“Priscilla, do you think you might know who tried to kill me?”

“Oh, I don’t think he would really kill you. He probably just wanted to scare you. I mean, he’s not like that.”

It has been my experience that women who say about violent men, he’s not like that are missing the obvious. I mean, if he does it, that’s what he is.

I opened my mouth to set her straight and then thought better of it.

“This person you know, can you tell me who it is?”

“Well, if I did, would it get him in trouble?”

It was such a dumb question that I couldn’t think how to answer it. What did she think, that I planned to send him a Hallmark card? When all else fails, go with the truth.

“Priscilla, the person driving that truck is mixed up in something a lot bigger than trying to run me down.”

“And that would get him in trouble?”

I suddenly realized there was a note of hope in her voice. She wasn’t worried about getting the guy in trouble, she wanted to get him in trouble.

“It would get him in big trouble.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it. Bye.”

She whirled away and ran inside. I stared after her and gritted my teeth. Damn! Trying to coax Priscilla to tell me what she knew would be like training a cat to use a commode. Possible, but only with an incredible amount of patience, a trait I was fresh out of right then.

I looked at my watch and groaned. It was after ten, and I still hadn’t made it to Mame’s house. With Mame’s old bladder, she shouldn’t be left so long without going outside. Guiltily, I jerked the Bronco into reverse out of the driveway and sped off so fast the tail parked at the curb fishtailed when he started after me.

At the entrance to Secret Cove, I slowed to the ten-mile-an-hour limit on the narrow brick-paved street. In that green tunnel of leafy oaks, everything seemed serene and safe. Mame was waiting at the glass insert by her front door, and she did a little happy bounce at my feet when I came in. After I took her out back to pee in the bahia grass, she trotted with me to the kitchen and watched me put out fresh water and food for her. Then we ambled out to the lanai for her morning brushing. The sky was a smooth sweep of robin’s-egg blue, yellow butterflies were flitting around an overgrown bush of lemon oregano outside the lanai door, and a woodpecker was rhythmically drumming on a mossy oak in the backyard. If I hadn’t known better, I would have been lulled into believing the world was pure and innocent.

After her brushing, Mame and I played chase-thetennis-ball until we were both winded, and then I nuzzled her good-bye and left her watching me through the glass by the door. The temperature was climbing toward 90 degrees now, and the air was beginning to suck the energy out of anything living. The tail had parked behind me in the driveway. His head was tilted back on his headrest and his eyes were closed. He was older than I had thought, his jaws soft and slack, with the look of somebody more accustomed to a desk job than following a woman around in the heat.