Janet Evanovich - Full Bloom

"Why don't we start wrapping these trays of food and putting them away?" Lovelle suggested. "We can store the non-perishable items in the butler's pantry so we'll have room in the refrigerator."

"Vera and I will help," Jamie said, "but first I need to see if I can get Fleas out from under the bed." She hurried upstairs.

Annie was thankful she hadn't frosted Jamie's cake yet; she wanted it to be a surprise. With the help of the others the food was quickly put away. Annie heard Jamie grunting and groaning from the stairs and saw that she was doing her best to carry her dog down the stairs.

"You're going to throw out your back," Vera said, "and you won't be worth a flip on your honeymoon."

"I probably shouldn't be listening to stuff like that," Theenie said.

Jamie put Fleas down and held his collar. "I hate to be a pest, Annie, but do you have any peroxide?"

"I'll get some," Theenie said.

Annie suddenly noticed that Fleas had blood on one side of his nose and hurried over. "Did Peaches do that?"

"I don't think she likes bloodhounds," Jamie said, trying to make light of it so Annie wouldn't take on those worries as well.

"I'm so sorry," Annie said, rubbing the dog on his bony head. "Peaches is old and ornery like Doc."

Theenie returned with the peroxide and a handful of cotton balls. As Jamie and Annie held the dog still, she cleaned the wound. Fleas whined and moaned and scratched himself fiercely with one leg. "Peaches got him good," Theenie said. "Look how deep the scratch is. Good thing Doc isn't here; he'd insist on putting the poor thing down."

Lovelle nodded. "Yeah, Doc's a snarly old man, but he can't stand to see something suffer."

Jamie and Vera left once the kitchen was clean and Jamie had helped Annie carry a roll-away bed from the attic to Theenie's room so Erdle could stick close to the woman. They'd been gone less than ten minutes when a jubilant Destiny returned bearing a ring that strongly resembled Annie's engagement ring.

Annie held her hand out for all of them to see. "What do you think?"

Lovelle studied it closely. "I can tell the difference, but I'm with Destiny. I don't think Wes will notice." She yawned. "I'm exhausted. Why don't we call it a night?"

As tired as she was, Annie forced herself to take a shower before climbing into bed, but two hours later she was still staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Charles lying at the bottom of the stairs, a pillow pressed against his face. She drew comfort thinking perhaps he'd been unconscious at the time.

She picked at her tired brain, trying to find answers to the questions that plagued her until sheer exhaustion forced her eyes closed. She awoke once after a bad dream, but when she couldn't remember the details she turned over and went back to sleep.

In her next dream she was twelve years old, visiting her grandmother for the summer. They were standing on the back porch gazing down at the stray tomcat that showed up every morning for scraps of food.

"What's his name, Granny?" Annie asked the first time she saw the scrawny animal.

The woman chuckled. "I call him Lover Boy on account he spends his nights chasing females and getting into fights with the other male cats. Last time he got into a fight he showed up missing half his hair."

The old woman tossed a handful of chicken bones on the ground, and the cat pounced on them as though he hadn't eaten in days. After that, Annie made a point of collecting table scraps and only ate half her oatmeal in the morning so Lover Boy got enough to eat.

Then one morning Annie stepped out the door with her oatmeal bowl and found Lover Boy curled beside the bottom step. He looked up at her, his eyes glazed, his fur matted with dried blood. Her breath caught in her throat when she noted half of one ear had been torn away. She raced into the house for her grandmother.

"Go get Doc," the old woman said after she'd checked the cat.

Doc took one look at the ailing feline and shook his head sadly. "He's bad off, Annie. Afraid I'm going to have to put him down."

Tears streamed down Annie's cheek as she watched Doc carry Lover Boy away.

Annie bolted upright in the bed. Her cheeks were wet from crying. She reached for the telephone and dialed Wes's cell phone number. No answer. She hung up and climbed from the bed, dressed quickly, and then made her way down the hall toward the kitchen stairs. At the back door she paused to unbolt it and slide the chain free. She winced as it creaked open, reminding her she needed to take an oil can to the hinges. She closed it behind her and started across the backyard where Annie's grandmother had long ago pulled up her boxwood hedges so she could admire Doc's rose garden.

* * * * *

Wes opened his eyes when he heard his cell phone ring from the other side of the room, but it took several minutes for him to locate it. By the time he found it tucked in the pocket of his jeans it had stopped ringing. He switched on the lamp beside his bed and rubbed his eyes, trying to force himself awake. Finally, he punched a button on his phone and scrolled down, searching for the last number listed on his screen.

* * * * *

Despite the late hour, the downstairs lights burned brightly on the first floor of Doc's house. Having knocked several times as hard as she could, Annie gave up. She suspected Doc was watching TV in his den and couldn't hear her at the door. She lifted the flowerpot beside his door and reached for the key beneath it.

Inside, the TV blared from the den. Annie found Doc asleep in his recliner, an old quilt draped over him. She turned off the TV, and he jerked and opened his eyes. He frowned at the sight of her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"We need to talk. It's important."

"What is so important that you have to barge into my house at two o'clock in the morning?" he said, his face red and mottled from sleep. He sounded out of sorts.

"It's about Charles," she said.

"Oh, good grief. Don't you watch the news or read the paper? They found the lady who did it."

"Donna Schaefer didn't kill him, Doc. Charles was alive when she left."

"How do you know?"

Annie sat on the nearby sofa. "Erdle came in later that night and found Charles dead, a pillow next to the body. He thought I'd killed him in one of my dumb temper fits, so he tried to cover it up by burying Charles in the backyard."

"Erdle buried him? Seems I remember he was gone at the time."

"He came back for something later that night. He took care of everything nice and neat."

"Why are you telling me this?" Doc said.

"You were pruning your rosebushes during that time, remember? From your garden you can see my backyard. And then you like to sit in your lawn chair with your cognac and look at them, sometimes for hours. You once said that's when you do your best thinking."

"Annie, would you get to the point? I'm an old man. I could pass on before you finish your story."

"You saw Donna Schaefer arrive at my house and then run out later. So you went over to investigate. Am I getting it right so far?"

Doc remained silent.

"You found Charles lying on the floor unconscious. You never liked Charles. You knew he had been cheating on me for some time, didn't you? Danny probably told you. You thought Charles was no better than an old tomcat. So there he was, lying there, helpless and unconscious. You went into the living room and got a pillow and—"

"No," Doc said, indignant. "What kind of person do you take me for? A coldhearted killer?" he asked. "Is that what you think?"

"Then tell me."

Doc pulled off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and blinked several times. He stared straight ahead for a moment. "That's not the way it happened, Annie. Not at all." He sighed heavily.