Family Jewels (Dix Dodd Mystery #2)

I slept in my clothes. Uncomfortably.

Dylan was the perfect gentleman — he kept to edge of the bed, and I took my stretched-out place on the middle. God, we both must have been tired. Dylan was gently snoring before I was asleep, and it wasn’t ten minutes until I was in dreamland.

To no surprise, my REM sleep disorder kicked in. And dreamland was wild.

I had that dream I was standing on stage with my high school glee club and I was the only one in my underwear. I dreamed Noel Almond was wearing spaghetti and a pack of Labradoodles was hot on his heels. I dreamed of cheesecake, and sticky buns and golf balls and crib boards. I dreamed of a giant frog and a blue-haired hooker.

I dreamed of Peter Dodd.

When I awoke, every sheet and blanket was off the bed. The lamp and clock radio were placed safely on the floor. Dylan knew I had the sleep disorder, but had never truly seen it first hand. Until last night, apparently. My assistant was currently hunkered down on the chair in the corner with the bedspread tucked around him.

Under normal circumstances, I might feel half bad about that. But this was no normal circumstance. For I also awoke knowing damn right well who’d set up my mother for the jewel thefts. And I was betting my bottom dollar, this might just lead us also to good old Frankie Morrell.

Chapter 10

Whereas the night before I looked undisputedly hot, this morning, I looked undisputedly… well, like I’d slept in my clothes. Rumpled. Crumpled.

But I was too pumped to give it much thought.

When I’d awoken with the knowledge of who the actual thief was, I practically jumped on Dylan to wake him up so I could test my ideas on him. Intently, he was right there with me, following my logic, all the while wearing that thinking man look of his. He listened to every word. Followed every bit of evidence and supposition I put forth. And when he asked, I had to admit it; yes, my intuition was tingling all over on this one.

He also interjected his own logic. “Going to be hard to prove, Dix.”

I gave a Harriet-style hmph.

Dylan was right, of course. But hard never stopped me before.

We had to play it cool. Had to play it carefully and not let anyone know just exactly what we’d deduced until we were ready to spring into that beloved a-ha! moment.

Yes, I admit it. I wanted badly to go straight to Deputy Almond and waggle my know-it-all finger (or fist) in his face and tell him who the real crook was. But I knew I had to wait on this. I didn’t want to quietly tell Almond. I wanted to shout it from the roof tops. Hopefully, from the rooftops of the Wildoh. Or at the very least, the rec room. And I wanted to do it with the loudest “Ha! Up yours!” in the world.

Petty of me? Oh, yeah. Big time. But Almond had humiliated my mother in front of the residents of the Wildoh. I wanted to embarrass him and prove him wrong in front of the same.

And personally, I think ‘petty’ is underrated.

Way underrated.

But there was another reason I’d wait to thump the culprit in front of everyone (I mean besides my penchant for grabbing the spotlight every chance I got). First things first.

And the very first thing to be done this sunny Florida morning was to get my mother out of jail. Despite the crumpled/rumpled way I looked, I headed over to the jail rather than going back to the Wildoh to change. I gave a quick call to Mrs. Presley. She was fine, just having an early breakfast with Mona. Mrs. P said she didn’t do a thing last night — just relaxed. Florida was doing her wonders, she said. Big Eddie Baskin had tried to get her to have a go at golf. She’d declined. She had answered a few rude calls from nosy neighbors. Didn’t mince words with any of them. Cal called twice — he’s lonesome. Craig called once but talked longer — he’s more lonesome. Oh, and the young Miss Elizabeth Bee had broken Cal’s heart. Apparently, she’d found greener (greener being more moneyed) pastures elsewhere.

Dylan had headed out the door of the Goosebump Inn a good half hour before I did, on the way to his security job at the Wildoh.

“Big Eddie has me doing windows today,” he’d said. “Followed by more painting, and caulking around his apartment. Think we can wrap this thing up early?”

I smiled. With any luck, Dylan would be out of that security guard outfit in no time.

I could picture it now.

Damn … could I ever picture it now.

Whoa, Dix. Back it up here.

What I meant to say was, with any luck he’d be out of that security guard outfit, I would introduce him to mother, and we’d have a great time in Florida for the rest of our short stay. Yes, I remembered, Mrs. Presley wanted to go to bingo before we went home. With a fat red marker, she’d been circling the big money ones in the local newspaper.

~*~

True to his word, Cotton Carson was at the courthouse when I arrived. I don’t know what I expected. Visually, I pictured someone somewhere between Matlock and that cranky guy from Law and Order. I was wrong.

Cotton Carson wheeled himself along the halls of the Criminal Justice Center at a faster clip than the two flustered young articling clerks carrying his briefcase and court papers could keep up with. He growled at the prosecutor, nodded to the clerk, grumbled to the deputy, and smiled sweetly at my mother as she sat down beside him. They’d had the opportunity, of course, of a pre-hearing consultation. And I learned that all this took place in the early hours of the morning. Apparently, Carson had been at the jail before 7 a.m., sent one of his clerks out for coffee and croissants for him and my mother, and spoken to my mother for a solid hour and a half. No, he hadn’t needed to be there so early. Nor go over matters with her for such a lengthy time period, but if it got her out of that jail cell, that was good. And if it intimidated the bejesus out of the cops, all the better.

By the time I saw Mother at the bail hearing, she was much more relaxed than I’d left her last evening. Not exactly all smiles; she looked like she hadn’t slept a wink. But some of the tension had subsided.

I liked Cotton Carson.

Mother turned in her seat and offered a half-hearted wave to me. She pointed me out to Carson and I could make out the words, ‘That’s my daughter’.

I wished of course that I could stand right up, jump over the partition and tell Mother the good news. But that fun would be reserved for the Wildoh.

I had put in a voice mail to Deputy No-Nuts before I’d left Dylan’s room at the Goosebump Inn. He’d be at the rec room for the early-morning gathering, I had no doubt. If for no other reason, to ask how come I knew so many four-letter words as per the voicemail.

So no, I couldn’t jump over the railing and yell my ‘a-ha!’ right then and there. But I did relax in my seat a bit, leaning back with a self-satisfied smile. I just damn well knew the day would be ending on a happier note than it began.

I was wrong. Damn wrong.

Oh boy … wrong.

~*~