written in blood.” I was definitely babbling.
“I understand you’re upset,” she said. “But I need you to stay calm.”
“Why does this keep happening to me?”
She paused so long I thought I’d lost my connection. “This has happened before?”
“Not exactly. I mean no. Can you just send someone please?”
“I’ve already dispatched fire and police Ma’am. Would you like me to stay on the line until they arrive?”
“No.” I disconnected without thinking. Then I dialed Roz. Voicemail.
“Roz. Come to Peggy’s quick. Bad. It’s very bad.”
Disconnect. I dialed Howard. Voicemail. Damn!
I screamed to no one in particular. “Doesn’t anyone answer their phones anymore?” That’s when I noticed a gray and bent lady two houses down, sweeping her driveway and giving me queer looks. “Have you seen Peggy Rubenstein?” I shouted. The lady dropped her broom and ran into her house.
My head was pounding when the first police cruiser arrived followed by two fire trucks and three more cruisers. The street was alive with disaster. A police officer introduced himself and asked what the problem was.
“I came by to see my friend but she’s not here and the house smells like gas and there’s a note written in blood on the refrigerator. And I don’t know if this matters, but I hit a woman with my van last night. She’d already been shot three times at close range. Maybe it’s related. Maybe not.”
That probably wasn’t the best thing to say.
The officer cocked his head and took a silent beat. Finally he asked, “Are you Agent Marr’s wife?”
“Do you know Howard?”
“No, but we’ve heard of you. I mean, him.”
Just then a fireman loaded with equipment stepped up. Just my luck, it was stud muffin Russell Crow.
I cringed. “Me again.”
He acknowledged me, but was all business. “Where’s the problem?”
“She smelled gas in the house,” said the officer. “You said your friend is missing. Did you go through the whole house?”
I shook my head.
“We’ll check it out,” said Crow. He was off to save the world. Or at least to find a gas leak.
A second uniformed policeman joined us while the first asked more questions. “Where is the bloody note again?”
“On the refrigerator. It said, ‘Ease his pain’.”
A few questions later, Russell Crow gave the all clear for the police to enter. “No leak. The gas oven was on without a flame.”
My friendly cop told me to stay near the cruiser while they investigated. About that time I spotted a helicopter circling the neighborhood. Gawkers had started congregating on the sidewalks and in the street.
Suddenly someone was talking in my ear. “What’s this all about?”
I jumped a mile high. It was Waldo. Again. “Dammit!” I screamed. “Now you’re really starting to piss me off. You’re like Huggermugger Houdini.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s not a compliment.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Waldo, I’m not in the mood . . .”
He put a clammy hand on my shoulder. “Barbara, I can see you are tense and at times like this, sometimes we just need our space. I’m going to grant you that space. But just remember, I’m always here if you need me. Always.”
As he walked away, several policemen began putting up barriers—to keep out the riff raff, I guessed. Wish they had done that a few minutes earlier.
Seconds after the barriers were placed, Roz screeched up in her mini-van. No one was letting her past. I was about to beg the nearest police officer, but Colt appeared waving a badge and a smile and next thing I knew they were at my side.
I hugged Roz then turned to Colt. “How did you know I was here?”
“I stopped by your house and didn’t find you there. When I heard the Fairfax County Police helicopters, I decided to follow them. Figured you’d be close to the trouble if not the cause of it.”
I punched him in the arm. “I’m really scared. Peggy’s door was open, she’s not there, the oven was on without a flame and there’s a note written in blood on her refrigerator.”
Roz looked beside herself. “What did it say?”
“Ease his pain.”
“Where have I heard that before?” asked Colt.
I would have answered, but a different policeman stepped up with a tube of red liquid in his hands. He held it up for us to see. “We’re ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure your bloody note isn’t really blood. It looks like this is the medium.”
I asked the obvious question. “What’s that?”
“Oh!” A shout came from behind us. “That’s mine!”
We turned around to see Peggy standing on the other side of the barricade, smile pasted on her pale Irish-freckled