Dead In Bed Read online

  At midnight, I gave up and went to bed with Scamp on the rug beside my bed. Damn Paul anyway! He could have called if he’d found he couldn’t make it.

  Scamp woke me around two. I sat up and saw a large shape in the shadows at the door of my bedroom.

  My heart jumped wildly as I rolled off the far side of the bed, reaching into my bedside table for my Smith and Wesson. I aimed it over the mattress toward the door, keeping my body behind the bed for cover.

  Somehow, I drew in enough breath to yell, “Freeze!”

  Chapter 4

  “Hey, it’s me, Honey,” Paul yelled.

  I gasped as I recognized his voice, coming awake enough to realize Scamp barked a welcome, not an alarm. I lowered the gun, sliding it onto the bedside table. I forced myself to stand on rubbery legs as I tried to slow my breathing back to normal.

  Light flooded the room. I blinked, realizing Paul had found the light switch near the door.

  “Damn it, Paul, you know better than to walk in on me without warning,” I scolded. I was still shaking as I gained my feet and reached over to shove the gun out of sight into the drawer of the bedside table. “I could have killed you!”

  “Sorry, Honey,” he said coming close, wrapping his arms around me. “Your heart is pounding,” he said, kissing me over and over. “Does that mean you’re excited to see me?”

  “It means you scared the bejeebers out of me,” I said, but wrapped my arms around him, cuddling close, kissing him back. “Oh, God, I’ve missed you. Why are you so late? Why didn’t you call?”

  “I’m sorry. I had a bit of a problem. A flat tire. When I opened my cell phone to call you, it said low battery and shut down. I forgot my charger at home. It’s charging now.”

  He kissed me again, then let me go to put out the dog. “Out, Scamp,” Paul said as he patted her. She was happily dancing around, whining and wagging her tail.

  Scamp was resigned to losing her spot as sentinel by my bed as she always did when Paul slept over. She obeyed, going downstairs to sleep in her bed in the laundry room.

  I went over, closed the door behind the dog, then, between kisses, began undressing Paul. He’d already managed to unbutton my satin pajamas and now cupped my breasts, dipping his head to take one tip into his mouth. With his other hand, he shoved off my pajama bottoms, groaning as he slipped a hand between my legs.

  I worked on getting rid of his clothes. “So you went home first?”

  He nodded. “After dealing with all of that, I was pretty grungy, so I took time for a quick shower in my apartment before driving over here. I wanted to be ready for this when I got here.”

  “Good idea,” I agreed squirming under his ministrations. ”Oh, God, I missed you.”

  I opened his zipper, pushed his briefs aside, then circled his large, very ready shaft with my hand.

  He squirmed. “Me, too. I love you, Lacey. I hate these long hauls where I can’t stop overnight with you. Phone calls just aren’t enough.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?”

  He stopped suckling my breasts long enough to help me get rid of the last of his clothes. He grabbed his jeans, pulling out a foil packet.

  As he opened it and covered himself, I teased him by kissing his neck and playing with the hair along his nape.

  “You need a haircut.”

  “I haven’t had time,” he murmured between kisses.

  He climbed into bed, rolling on top of me, pinning me in place as he kissed and fondled me everywhere before slowly entering me. Pleasure surged through me as he began to move, first teasing me slowly, then speeding up until we both sailed off into ecstasy.

  A wonderful sense of well-being filled me as we rested for a few minutes, still connected, talking and updating each other on our work problems.

  I waited for these moments all the time he was on the road. Nothing else mattered to me when I held him in my arms listening to his voice. I loved him and wished we could be together every day. Maybe someday soon his business would be big enough so that he could mainly run it from an office in town.

  We made love again, slower this time. Finally satisfied, we fell asleep, cuddling each other.

  ***

  Over a leisurely breakfast the next morning, I told Paul about my latest case. He makes a good sounding board for my thoughts, though I’m careful not to reveal any client’s confidences.

  I watched him read the articles about Clara’s death in the local paper as I cooked scrambled eggs and bacon. I served up our food, poured more coffee, then sat opposite him to butter my toast.

  Paul frowned as he looked at the picture of Clara in the paper. “I think I saw this woman just last week,” he said, forking in another mouthful of eggs.

  “Yeah? Where?” I didn’t think it was all that likely, since Paul hadn’t been home for almost two weeks. He was usually good with faces, so I listened when he had an opinion.

  “It was in a truck stop on I-35, west of here around twenty miles. Remember I thought I’d make it home, but I had to pick up a load before the factory closed in White Bear Lake? Last Wednesday night, it was.”

  “Yeah. I remember. You think it was Clara?”

  “I’m almost sure. I noticed ’cause they were acting kind of secretive. Didn’t eat or anything, just had coffee. She was sitting in a back booth waiting, then this short, thin guy in a John Deere cap, maybe late thirties or so, came in, looked around, then went back to sit with her. After they talked, he got up and left. She waited a while before leaving. She drove off in a different car.”

  “What kind of car?” I asked.

  “A silver Mercedes. Fairly new.”

  I nodded. That was what Clara drove. “Did you notice what he was driving?”

  Paul shook his head as he picked up his coffee. “No, I think he went around to the side of the restaurant. I didn’t see him drive off.”

  I nibbled my bottom lip. “But you’re sure he didn’t leave in her car?”

  “No, she was parked out front. I watched her get in and drive off alone. Good looking woman, around fifty or so, I’d say.”

  “That sounds like her,” I agreed. “I wonder who the guy was. Maybe Sam’s not the only philanderer in the family.”

  Paul frowned and shook his head.

  “I don’t know about that, Lacey. They didn’t act like lovers. No hugs or hand touching or anything like that. Anyway, wouldn’t they have met at a motel if they had wanted to make love?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Right. It seemed more like a business meeting or something,” Paul said.

  “Hmm. In that case, I suppose there could be lots of explanations.”

  “Yeah. Except for the way they left, her waiting a while before leaving. That seemed to me like she didn’t want anyone to see them together.”

  Paul was right, but then he always did have good instincts about things. I knew I should get back on the job, but wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. “What do you want to do today?”

  Paul set down his coffee cup, a guilty look on his face. “Do today?” he repeated. “Don’t you have to work on this case?”

  “It can wait a bit. Besides, I worked late last night waiting up for you. I don’t see much of you these days.”

  He flushed, then reached over to cover my hand with his. “I know, Honey, and I’m sorry about that, but I’m starting to pull the business together now. Maybe later I’ll be able to take a little more time off.”

  I was getting a bad feeling. Paul didn’t usually hedge his answers.

  “Paul, when do you have to go back on the road?”

  He sighed. “I should leave this morning, Lacey. I have to pick up a load in Minneapolis today.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice. To hide the tears that threatened, I quickly stood, picking up our dishes.

  Paul noticed, coming over to hug me. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to get back this way next weekend.”

  “Sure,” I said, returning h
is hug. “If you have to work, you have to work.”

  An hour later, I watched him drive off. Scamp watched him leave, then sent me a soulful look as though her friend’s departure was all my fault.

  People who knew us thought Paul and I had an odd relationship because he was gone so much. They were right, but I didn’t know what I could do about it. I sure wasn’t ready to give him up.

  I heaved a long sigh, then put Scamp back inside. I decided I might as well go back to work.

  Clara’s mother was next on my list of people to see. I decided not to call first, just take my chances on seeing her. She might not like that, being a society woman and probably big on manners, but I’d give it a try. I’ve found it’s way too easy for people to turn you down on the phone.

  * * * *

  Helen’s house was a large, brick rambler on the other side of Canton, about a mile from where Clara and Sam lived. A neatly groomed lawn and orange and rust colored mums blooming in brick planters surrounded the house. What a shame nature would soon freeze them. I didn’t garden much myself, but I loved to admire the work of others. Minnesota’s growing season is much too short.

  I rang the bell, half expecting Helen not to be home or not answer. A chubby, round faced young man with a curiously blank face opened the door after my second ring. His long, coal-black hair was pulled back from his face. He wore running gear and had evidently just returned from a run. Wet spots of sweat showed on his tee shirt. He looked at me silently.

  I told him who I was and asked to see Helen.

  He nodded and allowed me inside, closing the door behind me. “Ma’s back here.”

  “And you are?”

  “John.” Ah, Clara’s brother. I followed him down the hall, noticing his hair was shoulder length and tied back with a leather shoelace. We passed a large living room where I glimpsed leather furniture and plush carpeting. A vase of fresh flowers sat on a table. Large paintings decorated the walls; the opposite wall lined with books.

  John stopped at a spacious, enclosed porch overlooking a large flower garden. He nodded at the slim woman with neatly coiffed, coal-black hair sitting at a table.

  “She’s in here.” He turned and left.

  She looked up, waving me to a chair opposite her at the table. The table was covered with a white damask cloth and held a silver coffee service and china cups.

  “You’re Helen?”

  She nodded. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.

  “I’m Lacey Summers.”

  Behind me, I heard John’s footsteps retreating to the dimly lit interior of the house. I frowned, then turned back to Helen. “I’m sorry to bother you at a time like this.”

  “It’s okay,” Helen said, eyeing me over the rim as she sipped from her cup. “Never mind John. People have been stopping by, so he’s not himself today. He doesn’t like a lot of people around and is unhappy when his routine is disrupted. Would you like some coffee?”

  “Sure.” I sat in the padded lawn chair, watching her pour and took the cup she offered. “I’m a private investigator. Sam asked me to try to find out what really happened to Clara,” I explained.

  I watched for her reaction, but Helen just gaped at me blankly.

  “Car exhaust killed her,” she said dully, as though she thought I hadn’t heard that yet.

  “I know,” I said gently. “But Sam says his car wasn’t running when he left for work. He’s sure he would have heard the motor running when he went into the garage to get into her car.”

  “I suppose he would have.” She looked confused. “But if he didn’t start it, who did? A car doesn’t start by itself.” She frowned, fingering the corner of the white tablecloth.

  “That’s what we need to figure out,” I said. “Can you tell me what happened yesterday morning, as much as you can remember?”

  “I already told it to the police,” she objected.

  “I know, but I’d like to hear it, too, so I can try to figure out the truth.”

  “The truth is that Sam killed my baby,” she said, dissolving into tears. “Clara loved him. I thought he loved her too, but still he killed her.”

  She covered her face with her hands. I noticed her nails were neatly manicured, her polish a bright red. As though sensing her distress, a large white cat appeared beside her chair, rubbing itself against her leg.

  I said nothing, just waited while she got herself under control.

  After a few minutes, she reached over, pulled a tissue from the box on a side table, blew her nose and then apologized for breaking down. She picked up the cat, settled it on her lap and began petting it. The cat allowed her stroking for a moment, then jumped down and disappearing down the porch steps into the garden.

  “It’s okay. I know this is hard for you, but it’s important.”

  “Yes. As I told Sheriff Ben, I went over to Clara’s house about eight o’clock. We often have coffee together before we go to some committee meeting or other.”

  “Clara didn’t usually go to work with Sam?”

  Helen shook her head. She grabbed another tissue, wiped her eyes and then began shredding the tissue in her hands.

  “Sam always said Clara was the boss, but he ran the factory. Clara just went into her office two or three afternoons a week to go over the paperwork. She liked to oversee things, but he did the day-to-day stuff.”

  “I understand she did the hiring and firing, though?”

  “Yes.” Helen’s lips tightened as she shifted in her chair as though I’d challenged her opinion.

  “And Clara had to fire some people lately?”

  Helen shrugged one shoulder, then rubbed a hand over her cheek.

  “No more than usual, I don’t think. Clara believed in following her instincts where people were concerned. She did the hiring and firing herself. She thought keeping that separate from Sam’s responsibilities gave him more freedom in other areas.”

  I frowned. Didn’t most managers oversee their employees and decide on hiring and firing? Why keep it separate? “Do you think it was working?”

  She stared out at her flower garden for a long moment. I didn’t think she was going to answer.

  “I don’t know. I know Sam didn’t always like her choices, especially when Clara fired some women he liked.”

  There was a sour look on Helen’s face, and I knew I’d better tread carefully. “Anyone in particular that Sam wanted to keep but whom she fired?”

  Helen shrugged and rubbed her cheek, her expression closing up.

  ”I don’t know their names. Clara didn’t want to tell me details. I really didn’t want to get involved, you know? But I know he always wanted to keep the young, pretty women. Clara was more interested in what they could do rather than how they looked.”

  “And Sam was the opposite?”

  Her mouth twisted, bitterly. “You could say that. He wasn’t exactly a faithful husband.”

  So his mother-in-law believed that, too. Had Clara known it as well? I’ll bet she did. If so, what would she have done about it, if anything? If Sam was the one dead, I’d be tempted to suspect this bitter woman. But she seemed too genuinely mired in grief to have killed her own daughter.

  “Did Clara tell you Sam was unfaithful?”

  “Oh, no. She always sided with him. So I couldn’t say much against him. But I knew. I heard the gossip that went around town.”

  “I see.”

  Apparently she preferred to believe local gossip rather than her own daughter. Or was she trusting her own intuition? I decided to change the subject back to what had happened at the house yesterday.

  “When you arrived at Clara’s house around eight yesterday morning, did you ring the bell?”

  Helen nodded. “I try to be polite and warn her she has company, even if it’s only me, her mother. When Clara didn’t answer and I heard the car running, I used my key to open the door. The front door entrance and hallway to the upper floor is right next to the garage. I knew something was wrong immediately. I could sme
ll the awful car exhaust.”

  “Did you go into the garage first?”

  “Yes, I opened the inside door to the garage and saw the car running. I pushed the buttons to open the big overhead doors to let out the exhaust. Then I went to the car to see if anyone was in it.”

  She shuddered.

  I nodded. “You were afraid you’d find someone in the car?”

  “Yes. I’ve heard of people committing suicide by sitting in their cars with the engine running in an enclosed garage. Since it was Sam’s car, I thought maybe Sam had….”

  “But there was no one in the car?”

  “No. I reached in to shut off the car, but there were no keys, so I couldn’t even do that.”

  “The exhaust smell was still strong?”

  “Yes. I was starting to feel sick, so I threw open the front door, then I ran upstairs to the main floor of the house, yelling for Clara.”

  The cat returned to her side and she absently reached down and petted it.

  “I didn’t find Clara in the kitchen or living room so I went to her bedroom. She was still in bed and looked like she was asleep, but I knew right away, she wasn’t.”

  “Did you touch her?”

  Helen nodded. She gulped some coffee, then went on. “I pulled back the blanket and felt her neck for a pulse but there wasn’t any. I grabbed the phone on the bedside table and called nine-one-one, then I threw open the windows and ran back outside.”

  “I see.”

  She threw me a guilty glance, then looked away as she continued.

  “I’m ashamed to say I…I vomited on the lawn. I’m not sure if it was from the shock or the carbon monoxide. They say it doesn’t smell.”

  “That’s right. But I’m sure the other components in the car exhaust do and would make you feel sick.”

  “Yes. The house was smoky with car exhaust and it stunk.”

  “Shock can make you ill, too.”

  “I suppose. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a shock in my whole life. You never think your children will die before you do.”

  “Of course not. It’s not the natural order of life.” I paused a moment, then asked, “So you think Clara never got up? She was still wearing her night clothes?”