"This isn't like her to be gone so long and not let anyone know where she is. Besides, she's diabetic and has to eat regularly." I felt I had to make a point.
"There's nothing I can do right now, and I think she's old enough to get her own meals."
What did it take to get this guy off his butt? "She knows who killed Valerie, too." And I knew he didn't believe me. "What if something happened? I'm afraid for her."
"Look," he said, in a tone I was becoming all too familiar with. "Give her time. She'll turn up. If she's not back first thing tomorrow morning, we'll start looking."
That was all I would get out of him. I turned on my computer intending to get some work done, but turned it off before it fully booted up. This didn't feel right. Something was wrong. I'd have to find her myself.
By the time I drove back to Copper Creek, Maria had arrived home from the grocery store. The men were in the house for their afternoon break before evening chores, and Juliet was there as well. While Maria bustled around putting groceries away I told them about my conversation with Detective Thurman.
"She will be as mad as a wet rat when she comes back and finds out you called the police on her," Maria said.
"I wish someone would fill me in," Juliet said. "What do you guys know that you're not telling?"
Miguel and I looked at each other.
"Didn't you say anything?" I asked.
"No. I thought you would tell Juliet, she would tell Eric and he would tell Jorge."
"Oh."
Obvious communications breakdown. I guess I couldn't be too hard on Delores for the same lapse. So I told them about the three of us going to the Broken Axle. I knew Maria wouldn't be pleased, but I saw no way around it. Miguel would have to field this one himself. However, I never got a chance to tell them what we discovered. Maria came out of the kitchen like a mad bee on a mission and slapped Miguel soundly on the arm. He flinched.
"You lied to me! You know I do not like you going to those places!"
"But Maria, we did get some information."
"Ha! All you found was some drunk to buy beer for!" She planted her fists firmly on her hips. Her black eyes sparked fire.
"Well, actually, Thea paid for the beer."
"You let a woman buy your liquor?" She pulled at her hair. "¡Ay, Dios mio, Miguel!" She let loose with a stream of invective Spanish, none of which I understood, but whose meaning transcended linguistic barriers.
By the time she finished she had included Miguel, Jorge, and Eric in her diatribe. If appearance was anything to go by, each acted suitably humbled.
Then Maria turned on me. Shaking her finger and switching to English she told me less eloquently, but no less effectively, "You should not have gone to a place that has such a reputation as that one. Besides, it is not right for a woman to pay for things a man should pay for. You make yourself look like, like…"
"A hussy?" Juliet offered.
I knew she'd get some mileage out of this.
"Yes, a hussy! You will never find yourself a husband. It is hard enough at your age, anyway. Why do you want to go and make yourself look like a hussy? No man will have you."
I was speechless. Juliet was finding it hard not to snicker. She poked Eric in the ribs with her elbow. Maria wasn't finished. She pinned Juliet with a stern look she'd undoubtedly learned from the nuns.
"You I must talk with in private the talk your own mother should have had with you."
Juliet opened her mouth but Maria's hand flashed up like a traffic cop.
"When the men leave we will talk about the cow and how she should not give milk away except to the farmer who owns her."
Maria must have thought she was being obscure enough for no one to catch her meaning. Juliet bit her lip and examined the carpet. Eric received her final rebuke.
"And you," she said, not bothering to switch to Spanish, "you will hear me about the dishonorable man who steals the milk."
She turned and marched to the kitchen, leaving Eric red with embarrassment and the rest of us afraid to speak. I heard cabinet doors slamming and pots rattling. A short moment later she reappeared in the kitchen doorway brandishing a long-handled pot like a war club. "All of you," she said, swinging the thing in a wide arc, "out of my house and back to work!"
We all moved toward the front door.
"Except you." She pointed the pot at Juliet.
Juliet cast a pleading look at me. I pretended not to see.
"All of this because Delores wanted to go look at a horse to buy." Maria marched back to the kitchen.
We looked at one another, shocked.
"Maria," Miguel called, "you mean Delores told you where she was going?"
"Yes, she told me." She reappeared in the doorway. "She was going to look at a horse to buy." Relief spread audibly through the room. "If any of you bothered to be where she could find you she would have told you, too." She returned to the kitchen.
As we filed out the front door, our moods greatly lightened, Maria yelled from the kitchen, "¡Juliet! ¡Eric! ¡Aqui! ¡Ahora!"
Chapter Twenty-One
It was time for life to return to normal, time to return to my beloved rut, and past time for me to call Andrea. There were three messages on my voice mail from her – the last thirty minutes ago, at two thirty – each sounding more agitated than the previous. The third time her message was brief.
"Damn it, Thea, where the hell are you?"
Swearing from Andrea – a sure sign of near hysterics. I called her.
"Where the hell have you been? Why didn't you call me?"
"I'm sorry -"
"I've been worried sick about you!"
"I'm sorry, I -"
"Are you all right? You aren't in the hospital, are you?"
"No, I'm fine, I -"
"Well, for the love of -"
"Andrea." Once able to insert a complete sentence, I told her about the results of our trip to the Broken Axle and my visit to the sheriff's office.
"Okay. I forgive you. You've been busy. But I'm telling you, Thea, I was ready to call the cops."
"I'm hoping they've got their hands full with Jonathan right now."
"Until you know he's in custody, you be careful. Understand?"
"Yes, mother."
Thus humored, she permitted me to get back to work, since I knew, even if Andrea didn't, that there was nothing more to worry about.
It was close to six when I wrapped up my accounting work. If I hurried, there'd be enough daylight left for me to ride my horse. Uncle Henry had lights for his arena, but they were expensive to run. I didn't like to use them if I could avoid it. I changed my clothes, put on my old sneakers, and grabbed my riding boots to change into later.
I opened the front door and the piece of newsprint taped to it flapped in my face. I snatched it off the door and read it. "So sad, too bad, BC."
My riding boots and purse fell from my hand as a sickening jolt of realization smacked me full in the gut. It was Greg, not Sarah, who'd left the notes. And he'd put this on my door while I worked in my office.
But that wasn't the worst of it.
Because of me, Thurman was going after the wrong man.
Frantic, I looked up and down my street. Nothing. Gone. But when? How long ago?
I ran, dodging through the hedge, to my neighbor's house and pounded on the door. Be home, please be home. I needed to know when he'd been here. A long moment passed and I raised my fist to knock again, but I heard footsteps and Mrs. Baron opened the door.
"Hello, Thea. Goodness, what's wrong, dear?"
"You didn't happen to see someone at my house in the last little while, did you?" Please, please, let this one-woman block-watch-program have seen something, I prayed to all available gods.
"I'm sorry, dear, but I've been watching TV. Oprah's on, and she's doing one of those makeover programs. I hate to miss her show."
I shrugged off her next half dozen questions, trying not to appear anxious, then jogged back toward my house. I pushed through the hedge, and stopped. One of my riding boots lay in the middle of my walk. I hadn't left it there. I picked it up and raised my eyes to my porch. The front door stood opened. I knew I'd shut it.