Sharon Henegar - Sleeping Dogs Lie

Jack took a couple of stiff-legged steps in his direction and growled at him. He froze in position on his knees. I stared in amazement, but Bob and Kay both turned on him. Bob leaned closer, his knuckles whitening on the gun. Jack began to bark and Kay snarled, “Louisa never! You leave her alone!” Her arms wrapped around me protectively.

The officer, whose name badge read ‘G. Smith’, raised his hands and commanded, “Stop!”

We all froze.

“He’s lying,” I said. “He shot Bonnie and he came after me, and Jack jumped him and I got the gun away.”

“Not true, officer, she threatened me with the gun. She was pointing it at me when these people—” Carl waved a hand at Kay and Bob—“showed up.” He rose to his feet and brushed leaves from the still immaculate creases in his slacks. What did he do, I wondered—run a line of glue down the inside?

Ambrose and Ed had been standing quietly to the side. Ed looked like he was watching amoebas splitting in a petri dish. Ambrose spoke in his most disdainful drawl. “ Louisa shot someone? I think not, dear boy.”

Carl didn’t seem to appreciate being a dear boy. “Who are these people?” he burst out, his waspish tone offended.

Ambrose looked down his nose at Carl, but it was the patrolman who spoke. “I am Officer George Smith. And you are?”

Carl brushed a couple of leaves off his sleeve before answering. “Carl Walsh. I happen to be the president of the Trader’s Bank and Trust in High Cross, and I also happen to be a close friend of the High Cross chief of police, Tony Saretta.”

“Mm-hmm,” the patrolman intoned, looking him up and down.

“I demand you arrest this insane woman immediately.”

Officer Smith looked Carl up and down. “What’s that mark on your wrist?”

Carl was silent.

“I had to bite him to get the gun away from him,” I said. Ambrose’s eyebrows shot up, and Officer Smith’s impassive face gave a brief twitch.

The look on my cousin’s face was pure admiration. “You bit him? Way to go, Louisa,” she said.

Ed said, “I hope he doesn’t have any serious diseases. You didn’t get any of his blood on you, did you, Louisa?”

Carl turned red and started to sputter.

“Uh huh .” Officer Smith studied my face. “Okay. We’ll find out more about that later. First, what’s this about someone being shot?”

Carl opened his mouth but I spoke first.

“It's Bonnie. He shot her down by the lake. He said he was going to dump both our bodies.”

“Did you check her vitals?”

“I—I was up above on a bluff and saw them. I tried to get away but I ended up here, and he was pointing the gun at me.”

Carl shook his head, looking disgusted. He opened his mouth to speak again but this time was interrupted by the officer.

“First things first. Let’s go,” Officer Smith commanded. He made a sweeping motion with his right hand. “Take me to the body.”

“ I don’t know how to get there,” I told him.

“My cousin never knows where she is,” Kay added helpfully.

I frowned at her. “Thanks a lot.” I looked around. “I think it's over that way.” I pointed.

Officer Smith pursed his lips. “Not if she was shot by the lake. It's in the opposite direction.”

“You’re quite right, officer.” Carl radiated pious distaste. “My poor sister-in-law is down here.” He started off, Jack at his heels growling softly. Ed followed them, then Kay, and I tailgated her, Emily Ann at my side. Officer Smith was behind me, and Bob and Ambrose brought up the rear. I looked around at our motley group stringing through the woods and thought that all we needed was a couple of snare drums and a tuba. Carl, with his indignant strut, made a dandy drum major.

The adrenalin that had carried me through my encounter with Carl dissipated. Fatigue crashed down on me. I glanced over my shoulder. Officer Smith kept his hand on the gun in the holster strapped to his side. Of course as soon as I took my eyes off the ground in front of me I stumbled over a rock and nearly fell, but the patrolman leapt forward to grab my arm and keep me on my feet. Bob came to walk behind me, his hand at my waist as he steered me around obstacles.

Carl had to struggle to push through the trees and vines and myanumma bushes. Once he let go of a branch just a little too soon and it whipped back into Kay’s face.

“Hey,” she growled at him, “do that again and you’ll be sorry.” Her expression must have convinced him of her sincerity, or perhaps it was Jack’s curled lip and barely audible snarl. He took more care after that.

Officer Smith muttered into the radio on his shoulder, I assumed calling for backup. I thought I heard something about hurrying. Suddenly he raised his voice.

“Hey, you’re headed away from the lake,” he said sternly.

Carl managed to look startled. “Sorry. I'm not used to tramping around in the woods,” he said. “Back this way?” He shoved his way through the underbrush, leading us downhill. “I think it's clearing ahead.”

The ground leveled out, the trees thinned, and I could see water lapping at the shore. We followed Carl around a curve, and there was Bonnie’s body.

I had seen her fall on her back when Carl shot her, but now she lay face down, an ominous pool of blood soaking into the earth under her. The cheerful red plaid of her shirt was stained brown with gore. A trail of blood led to the spot where she had confronted Carl.

Kay pushed Carl aside, sprinted to Bonnie, and flung herself down to feel for a pulse. “She’s alive!” she crowed, her face split in a wide smile as she looked back at us.

“And I am,” Bonnie said in wonder from her hospital bed. Her smile was as wide as Kay’s had been. “Thanks to you all, I'm alive. Bob, kidnapping you may have been the luckiest thing I’ve ever done.”

The smile lines around his eyes crinkled. “Well, shucks, ma’am, it weren’t nothin’,” he drawled and tipped an imaginary hat. “Pretty darned lucky for me too.” We were all silent, thinking about what might have happened. If Bonnie had not snatched Bob, if Carl had found him home alone, Bob would have been armed with nothing more than a low-slung dog. Though having seen Jack in action, I thought that could have been enough.

The door to Bonnie’s room opened and Ambrose backed in. He turned, and I saw that he was carrying a tray. “Hello, everyone,” he greeted us. “I was here yesterday when they brought Bonnie a meal, and I thought I would spare her another round of gruel and jello.” He raised the tray slightly.

We shifted to make a path for him through the room. He set the tray on the rolling cart by Bonnie’s bed and swung it over her lap. The tray was exquisite, wooden with an inlaid geometric design of silver. On it rested a china plate decorated in an old-fashioned design of blue and yellow flowers, a yellow linen napkin, heavy shining silverware, and a little nosegay of scented purple violets. The plate held a variety of steamed baby vegetables, a pale green dipping sauce flecked with herbs in a little crystal bowl, and a fragrant fresh bread roll, the brown top shiny with butter. My stomach growled at the sight.

Bonnie lifted the violets to her nose, breathed in and smiled. “This looks wonderful,” she said to Ambrose. She reached out and pressed his hand. “Thank you so much. I think one more hospital dinner might have finished off what Carl started.” She spread the napkin on her lap and picked up her fork. “I hope you’ll excuse me, but this is too tempting. And it feels so marvelous to be alive and hungry .”

“We’ve been telling Bonnie what happened after she was shot,” Kay told Ambrose.

“We should let her dine in peace,” Bob added. “She’s much better, but we mustn’t tire her.”