Merry Wrath Mysteries Boxed Set Volume III (Books 7-9) Page 25

  Originally, we weren't having any of the girls ride on the flatbed. However, it seemed like another way to include them in the decision-making process, and if they came up with a great idea, that was even better, because I was running a little low in that department.

  The girls gathered into a large huddle. There was a lot of whispering going on. Personally, I was proud of them for deciding democratically. When they disbanded, the girls announced that Betty, Lauren, one of the Kaitlyns, and Inez would decide and that they'd agree with whatever they came up with. I kept my concern to myself, even though it was Betty and Lauren who'd initially wanted to spray down the audience with ketchup.

  The rest of the girls split into two groups of four. Kelly's group worked on the banners for the sides, while the others helped push tissue paper into the skull. It worked pretty well too. I filled in the black areas for the eyes and definition. The girls sang a few songs while they worked, which I loved.

  Girl Scout songs are the best—catchy and quick. I could sing those all day and, in fact, often did in the shower. My favorite was Green Socks—about a pair of white socks taken to camp that never get washed because the girl puts it off. As a procrastinator, the song spoke to me.

  The girls, who were in fourth grade, were hard workers when they put their minds to something. Oh sure, there were moments when I wished I'd had a troop of slugs or goldfish instead, but today wasn't that day.

  "Mrs. Wrath?" One of the Kaitlyns tugged on my sleeve adorably. "Why did that woman die here?"

  How did you answer something like that? I responded the only way I could. I made something up.

  "She didn't die here, honey. Her body was moved here." That might not turn out to be a lie.

  "Maybe she wants to be buried in our skull?" Inez asked.

  "I don't think we can…" I started.

  "That's a great idea!" Ava shouted. "And my pet hamster just died, so we can put him in there too!"

  "We are not putting dead animals in the float," I insisted. "And why do you still have the hamster if it died?"

  Ava shrugged. "Daddy usually buries it, but he's been kind of out of it since Miss Didi was murdered."

  "Where is Booty Call?" Hannah asked.

  "In my backpack," Ava said solemnly.

  "The hamster's name is Booty Call?" I asked. "And he's in your backpack?"

  Ava rolled her eyes. "Well, duh."

  "I don't think Booty Call is an appropriate name for your hamster." And coming from me, that's saying something.

  "Why not?" Caterina asked.

  "It just means someone who calls to get their boots cleaned," Kaitlyn said. The rest nodded in agreement.

  I decided that correcting them wasn't going to do any good, and since the hamster was dead, it didn't really matter anyway.

  "Still, you should take it out of your backpack," I said.

  "We could bury him here!" Hannah shouted while hopping from one foot to the other.

  The girls liked this idea and ran around looking for a shovel.

  "What are they doing?" Kelly walked over and asked me.

  I explained, "They've decided that now is the perfect time to bury Ava's dead hamster."

  "She has it with her?" Kelly's eyes grew wide. "Maybe we shouldn't encourage it."

  "It's a farm. Animals die on the farm all the time," I reasoned while wondering if there were hamster farms out there with hundreds of little wheels squeaking at once. I'd like to see that.

  "Besides, she's been carrying it around in her backpack for who knows how long. This is for the common good."

  "I've got a board for the headstone!" Ava emerged from behind a stack of two-by-fours, covered in dust and cobwebs.

  "I found a shovel!" Hannah trotted over to us, wielding a spade bigger than her.

  "How about burying him right here in the barn?" Betty suggested.

  This was met with wild cheering.

  "Guys." I stepped forward. "I don't think we should bury Booty Call inside the barn." Saying his name out loud might have been a bad idea because Kelly's jaw dropped open.

  "How about out in the woods?" I offered. "Hamsters…um…love the forest."

  I had no idea if this was true. I knew nothing about them. Perhaps they roamed freely in the wild somewhere, but I always thought they'd been invented by some sadomasochistic, insomniac pet store owner.

  It was dark outside, but the girls were determined, so Kelly and I turned our vans with the headlights on to face the woods.

  Kelly dug a hole. I argued that it should be authentic, so six feet deep was necessary. But she gave me a look that said I'd be digging that hole if I didn't back off.

  The girls circled around the grave as Ava surprised us by pulling the hamster from her pocket. I was tempted to explain that her pocket and her backpack weren't the same thing and that carrying a dead rodent in your pocket for days is even grosser but decided that the occasion was too solemn for correction.

  "Someone should say something!" Inez announced, and all the girls, without saying a word, turned to Lauren.

  The tall redhead nodded as if this was the most normal thing in the world to be asked to do. "Dearly beloved. We are gathered here tonight to say good-bye to our good friend Booty Call, the hamster."

  I heard Kelly stifle a giggle.

  "He gave his mommy, Ava, many years of great joy and turpitude…"

  "Turpitude?" Kelly whispered. I didn't respond because I wasn't entirely certain of the definition of turpitude.

  "He was a great hamster. But now he's dead. Please take care of him in heaven. Unless he bites Jesus. In which case, send him to the other place. Amen." Lauren finished by taking the shovel and covering the dead animal up with dirt.

  Kelly was turning purple in the dim headlight glow. She turned and ran off into the barn, and we heard raucous laughter. I'd need to talk to her about that. It seemed a tad disrespectful.

  "Here's the headstone, Mrs. Wrath!" Ava handed me a small black box. "I thought maybe we could write on it with some chalk or something."

  The box was about the size of a 4x6-inch photo, and the surface was glossy.

  "Tell you what." I bent down to her level. "I'll take it home and do that tonight and bring it back tomorrow. Okay?"

  Ava nodded, and the rest of the girls went back into the barn.

  It felt like my brain was being snapped by rubber bands that were supposed to tell me something. I shook the box, and something inside sounded like metal. I opened the box and found four more of those gold coins.

  Where had they come from?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I put the box into my car and locked it after turning off the headlights. Back in the barn, I pulled Emily aside.

  "Where did you say you found the headstone?"

  The girl led me back behind the pile of boards and pointed to an empty spot on the floor before running to join the others. I got down on my knees and, using the light from my cell, searched for anything else that might explain the presence of these coins. Unfortunately, there wasn't a note that explained everything and broke open the case. In fact, there wasn't anything to indicate the box had ever been there. No empty, dust-free square or anything similar. This box had been put there recently. Why? Had the hoodie put it here? Or were they looking for it when we showed up?

  I'd just returned to the main group when Soo Jin arrived and was mobbed.

  "Hey!" Ava shouted. "We should dig up Booty Call and have Dr. Body perform an autopsy!"

  Inez nodded solemnly. "I've always suspected foul play…"

  Dr. Soo Jin looked to me for help, but I said nothing.

  "Hmmm…" Ava rubbed her chin. "I did find him lying on his back in the middle of the cage. Seems suspicious."

  "Um…" Soo Jin bit her lip. "You want an autopsy on a booty call?"

  "Yes!" the girls shouted at once.

  "I don't understand…" Dr. Body said.

  "You'd better get going, Merry." Kelly nodded toward the door. "Aren't you going to be late?"


  * * *

  An hour later, I was reasonably cleaned up and sitting with my fiancé and my mother at Syma's—Rex's parents' Greek restaurant in Des Moines.

  "How's the investigation going?" I asked Rex.

  The detective looked at me as if trying to decide to tell me something.

  Mom turned on the charm. "It must be so fascinating, doing what you do."

  My fiancé broke into a warm smile. He wasn't easily manipulated by flattery, but to be honest, he was completely outgunned. I once watched as my mother charmed a senator into betraying his party and voting the opposite of his long-held beliefs. He never knew what had hit him. She probably should've been a spy.

  "I guess it's okay to say since it'll be in the papers tomorrow." He looked around to make sure we wouldn't be overheard. "Didi Stoker was strangled a few hours before she was moved to the barn."

  "Do you have any ideas?" Mom said innocently.

  Rex sat back and sighed. "None whatsoever. This is the strangest case. But with the bodies that usually drop dead around your daughter, I shouldn't be surprised."

  I thought about protesting, but to be fair, he did have a point. Good thing he didn't know about my body count when I was with the CIA. Rex squeezed my knee under the table, and I relaxed. He gave me a wink, and I was a goner.

  It was the man's confidence that drew me to him initially. No matter where he went, on or off duty, he felt comfortable. As a spy, I took on so many personas that sometimes I was a bit of a wreck. Many spies go a little bonkers after a dozen or so covers. You can easily get tripped up or confused and tell the Chechen gun runner that you're a tractor salesman when you'd originally told him you were a veterinarian. Somehow, I got Ivan to believe I did both. I'm still amazed he bought it. Of course, a few days later when he brought me a goat with a hernia, I managed to flee the country. That was a little too far to take my cover story.

  "What have you found out about the victim?" I asked with my best innocent expression.

  "I hate to say it, but the list of Didi Stoker's enemies is very long." Rex ran his fingers through his short, dark hair. I loved it when he did that. Made him seem a bit vulnerable and reminded me he wasn't perfect all the time. I mean, who wants a perfect fiancé?

  "So, the list of suspects is very long," I added. "Did anyone like her?"

  The detective shook his head. "She wasn't from Who's There. Had no family that we can find. Her only connection appears to be her job and her church, and even they didn't like her."

  Darlene's name popped into my head. "She was good at stirring up trouble," I said before I thought. I had a habit of doing that.

  "What do you mean?" Rex squinted.

  "That's what Stan said when Kelly and I were buying furniture. He told us she was even after the schools for celebrating Halloween."

  "Oh? He said that?" A look of doubt flitted across my fiancé's face.

  I nodded in order to make it true. He didn't need to know we'd talked to our school. "She seemed like a loner with a grudge. No wonder someone killed her."

  Rex sat back in his chair and gave me a long look that said he was trying to read through the BS. I pasted on my most innocent who, me? smile.

  "Have you interviewed people at her church?" I deflected.

  "Yes." Rex leaned forward. "I'd be lying if I said they didn't like her either, but to keep you from running over there on who knows what premise, I've ruled them out. The two committees she was on were meeting the night she was murdered, and everyone but her was accounted for."

  I stared off into space, mostly to avoid looking Rex in the eyes. "I wonder…" Darlene must not be on any of these committees. How could I get him to list the names of everyone from the church? Even I wasn't that good.

  "Merry." His voice was tight, like when I accidentally set fire to his microwave or inadvertently washed his jeans with bleach.

  I changed tracks. "We ran into Stan Coombs at lunch today. He apparently has a history with Mom." My mother shot me a look. "And he was arguing with his boss…Andy Andrews."

  Rex took this in. "You know him, Judith?"

  My mother nodded. "He should be your first suspect. The man is a first-class con artist."

  Con artist? Did he con my mother out of something? I didn't like him before, but I loathed him now. Maybe Rex wouldn't notice if just one more body popped up in my presence in the near future.

  "As much as I hate to say it, that doesn't mean he's a killer, Mom," I said.

  "Trust me on this. I know what I'm talking about." My mother looked from me to Rex before waving us off. "I'm sorry. This is a family dinner. Let's talk about something else."

  "Judy!" a male voice boomed from the other end of the room.

  Bob Ferguson, an extremely tall man with a shock of black hair and a voice that could be heard in Missouri, crossed the floor and loomed over us. He thumped Mom on the back.

  "Robert! So nice to see you again," she cooed. "I'm just in town for a couple of days to make sure the details for the wedding are all set." She hated Stan calling her that, but Bob Ferguson was okay in her book.

  "That's great!" The man walked around the table and patted me on the shoulder with a huge paw. "Hey Merry! Can't wait for the big day!"

  I nodded. "Me too, Bob."

  "Please!" he shouted. "Call me Dad!"

  I froze. I only called my dad, Dad. I wasn't sure how to handle this.

  Rex came to my rescue. "I've asked her not to, Dad. I think that's a special term of endearment between you and me."

  My heart swelled inside my chest. I was really lucky to marry this man. I hooked my foot behind his ankle under the table. Rex gave me the naughty smile this time. I really liked the naughty smile, as it usually led to a steamy makeout session. Not here of course, but maybe later.

  Bob brightened into a huge smile and thwacked his son on the back. "Aw. Thanks, Rexley. That means a lot."

  I never got used to the fact that Rexley was Rex's real name. And I was grateful for the save here. Rex had been estranged from his parents for years over the whole arranged marriage to Juliette fiasco. I'm sure that wasn't easy for him to say.

  "Call me Bob, then," He winked at me. "Can't wait to meet Mike!"

  My father, Senator Michael Czrygy, was in DC all the time. He was definitely coming for the wedding, but his schedule didn't make short visits like these possible.

  I really liked Bob, even if his name would cause spontaneous hissing in my cat, Philby, due to a bad experience she'd had with a man named Bobb before she moved in with me. Bob had never met my cats, but it would happen eventually, and I needed to find a way to tell Philby before that meeting happened.

  I liked everyone in my fiancé's family. Well, except for Ronni—but I was determined to work that out. I loved Randi, in spite of the fact she'd been trying to turn the wedding into a museum of dead things.

  "Okay, Bob." I grinned. It was impossible not to like Bob and his wife, Millie.

  A crash came from the direction of the kitchen, and Bob excused himself.

  "Your parents really are lovely." Mom patted Rex's hand.

  "I don't know about that." Rex's eyes followed the path his dad took to the kitchen. "But they like you and Merry. And that's all I can ask for."

  Rex really was wonderful, and I was lucky to have him. Some girls want to marry doctors, or lawyers, or farmers. I was engaged to a smart, funny man who loved me. And he'd found me a job. I hadn't taken it yet, but maybe I should. I made a mental note to give it more consideration.

  We finished dinner, and Rex drove us home. Mom left us alone in the living room.

  "What did she think of the guest room?" Rex took me into his arms. Alone time! Yay!

  "She loved it. I did too." I kissed him. "Thank you so much! I guess you have interior decorating down."

  He smiled as he tipped my chin up. "You won't hold that against me, will you?"

  I pulled his lips to mine and showed him what I would hold against him…

  CHAPTER
EIGHT

  The traitorous cats slept with my mother, which was okay because I tossed and turned most of the night. From Rex's family to the dead mean girl on my float to the creepy con artist, Stan, my head was spinning.

  Mean Girl, Didi Stoker, had been murdered, dressed like a witch, and dumped on my float. My only suspects so far were her boss, Andy Andrews, her co-worker, Stan, and the teachers at the school, who I was definitely eliminating because they were gods in my eyes. Even with the possible addition of Darlene, that didn't seem like enough to me.

  My mind rolled back to the barn and the strange coins we'd found there. It was the scene of the crime. The person in the hoodie running away was certainly a suspect, if we knew who that was. I'd been thinking it was Darlene, but in reality it could have been anyone. Maybe Stan ran like a girl? The clock read three in the morning. I was wide awake and in need of distraction. Very quietly, I got dressed and left the house. In ten minutes I was at the barn.

  I forgot how dark it got in the country. There wasn't a single streetlamp, and the moon was AWOL. Fortunately for me, I had a flashlight. Pulling up to the barn, I turned off the headlights. Why did I do that? That was reserved for sneaking up on someone. Did I expect someone to be there?

  Getting out of the car, I switched on my flashlight and headed for the door. Huh. The padlock was missing. We always locked up because it would be a shame to lose all that tissue paper. Especially with Homecoming around the corner and TP-mad teenagers everywhere.

  It didn't seem to have been forced. Whoever got in must have cut the lock off.

  Still, my heart beat a bit faster as I slowly opened the door.

  CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!

  I guessed the element of surprise was right out.

  "Hello?" I shouted into the dark, musty air.

  No answer.

  Holding my flashlight in front of me to use as a club, I entered the barn and reached for the electric light switch. I was blinded for a moment, but when my eyes adjusted, my stomach dropped to my ankles.

  The float was torn to shreds. There was a great, gaping hole in the skull where the chicken wire had been ripped apart. Tissue paper lay about in pieces that would qualify as confetti. Nothing was spared. Who would do this? The Killer? The Thief? A rival Scout troop?