Chapter 3

By the time I got home, I had a mental list of people to talk to and questions to ask about a mile long.  Well, a page anyway.  I closed the garden gate and hurried after the dogs to the back porch.  I nearly tripped on the steps in my rush to answer the telephone.  Why is it that the phone always rings when you're just outside the door?  Or worse yet, in the bathroom?  I'd pondered that particular mystery of the universe on more than one occasion.  I dropped the leashes and grabbed the phone off the kitchen counter.

"Hello?"  I fished three dog treats from the jar and leaned down to distribute them to my eager companions and unhook the leads from their collars.

"Mrs. MacFayden?" a somewhat officious, but familiar, voice intoned.

"Yes," I replied.  "Erin?"

"Oh, Lord - you recognized me!  I was trying to be professional.  I told her that you don't use Jeff's last name, but she insisted that I call you Mrs. MacFayden," she said and giggled quietly.  "The dragon lady wants to talk to you," she practically whispered.  And then louder, "Yes, Principal VanBeek would like to speak with you about an important matter."

"Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?" I said.  And then I realized that Erin had transferred me to her boss, the aforementioned Dragon Lady.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Mrs. MacFayden," another cold, horribly familiar voice said.  "I'd like to speak to you about your son.  Jake, I believe."

"Yes, I believe Jake is my son."  I laughed nervously, in spite of myself.

"Still not taking anything seriously, I see," she continued.  "Well, like mother, like son.  Young Jake announced at the new students assembly this morning that his dog found a dead body on the way to school.  He said that his father would be arresting and probably hanging the bad guy who did it.  He also said, and I quote, 'My daddy used to work with Wyatt Earp' and then he stated that before that, his father shot people for a living.  You might not understand the gravity of this situation, but I simply cannot have children making up stories like this to get the attention of the other students.  You and your husband may condone this type of behavior, but I will not tolerate it."

It's a pity that Jeff wasn't there to see it, because I was speechless.  But only for a minute or so.  Principal VanBeek was not going to browbeat me - or my children. 

"Jake isn't making up stories," I said.  "Everything he said is true.  Or has an element of truth in it, from a six-year-old's limited point of view."

"A dead body?  Please, do you take me for a fool?" the principal asked indignantly.

"I don't take you for anything other than the mean-spirited woman you've always been," I answered calmly.  "We did find a body on the way to school and Jeff is investigating the crime in his official capacity as police chief here in Piney Point.  He used to work in fugitive apprehension for the US Marshal Service; if you recall any history of the American West, you would know that Wyatt Earp was indeed a Deputy US Marshal.  You might also remember that my husband joined the Marines after high school where he was trained and deployed as a sniper. Snipers, by definition, shoot people.  Let me reiterate: my son does not make up stories.  Oh, and Jeff would probably really like it if you called him Chief MacFayden.  But next time you have your secretary call me, and I really hope there is no next time, my name is Dr. Ryan."

With a satisfied smirk, I hung up the phone and did a childish victory dance right there in the kitchen.  The dogs looked at me like I was nuts.  Unfortunately, so did Jeff, from where he was leaning against the kitchen door jamb.  I wound my way around the island to the stool on the other side.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked sheepishly.

"Long enough.  Pissed Mama Bear off, did she?"  He sat down and leaned his elbows on the counter.

"It's the first day of school, for God's sake.  She couldn't wait until one of them actually did something wrong?  I mean, it's inevitable and I know that.  They are our kids, after all.  She just couldn't wait to..."

"To what?" Jeff interrupted.  "Honey, she may not have liked us very much, but she doesn't even know our kids.  Think about it - if Jake came home and told you that he found a dead body, wouldn't you want to see it for yourself?  He's six - and as you so eloquently put it, he has a limited six-year-old point of view."

I hate that the man is so rational.  But he's usually right and while I don't always tell him so, I'm glad he is.  "I guess I was a little mean, wasn't I?  I should call her and apologize.  What was I thinking?"

"You were pretty bitchy, Dr. Ryan.  But never apologize, you don't want the enemy to think you're weak."  Jeff grinned at me.  "I thought you were going to wait for me at Uncle Jimmy's."

"Oh, I had things to do so I came on home."  I filled the tea pot with water and set it on the stove.

"Couldn't get much information out of Pop so you decided to come home and start making a list of questions to ask and people to call?"

Like I said, infuriating.  "No - I have laundry to do and..."

"Oh, yeah - housewife stuff.  Well, it's a moot point anyway."  He came around the island and got a mug out of the cupboard.  And didn't say anything else.  I waited.

"And?"

"What?"  He was tormenting me now.  "I thought you had work to do.  I'm just going to have a cup of tea and get back to the office."  He slowly tore open the packet and dropped the tea bag into the mug.

"You said it was a moot point."

"Uh-huh.  You know, I've been thinking you might want to look into doing some consulting work for that astrophysicist you used to work with in California.  It would give you something to occupy your time when the kids are at school."  I caught him trying not to smile as he poured boiling water into his mug.

"You mean so I won't interfere with your criminal investigations?"

"That would be an added benefit, but I am serious about your needing something to occupy your inquisitive mind.  You know I love you, honey, but I'm the cop.  You're the mathematician.  And you have to admit, you did go off in five different directions on this alleged murder before we had any of the facts."  He was sitting down across from me again.

"Which are?"  I stirred sugar into my own mug of tea.

"The facts are these:  there was no murder.  The body buried in a shallow grave on Jerry Maguire's front lawn was already dead.  And embalmed.  The coroner identified her as Jerry's late wife, Millie.  Apparently, it was someone's idea of a sick prank to dig her up and deliver her to Jerry's lawn.  I am not looking forward to having to tell him about it when he finally gets home."

I shook my head.  "Now that's just nasty - dead and dug up.  Then dug up by a dog."  I thought for a minute.  "Are you sure it was a prank?  Maybe it was a threat of some kind."

"Honey, I beg you, call your astrophysicist friend.  What's his name?  Schippmann - that's the one.  He needs your help and you need the distraction.  And I need to get back to work."  Jeff walked behind me to put the empty mug in the sink.  He kissed me on top of the head.

"Go on, then," I said.  "I have things to do, people to call, groceries to buy.  Don't be late for dinner."

"Not to worry - nothing ever happens in Piney Point."

Maybe.  Maybe not.  I just had a feeling that something was about to.