Death on the Diagonal - By Nero Blanc Page 0,60

that didn’t cause a ruckus, my name isn’t Leonetti. But Dad was giving his money away to any supposed charity that knocked on the door. Not that he had lucre to burn . . . but you write ten checks for ten dollars a pop, and it adds up.”

Belle couldn’t think what to answer. Savvy Martha was closer to the truth than she realized. “Oh, I’m sure Sara’s simply feeling a bit constrained and homebound,” Belle finally announced, attempting a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “After all, she’s not accustomed to depending on others to propel her around.”

“Sara Crane Briephs under house arrest,” piped up Bartholomew with an empathetic chuckle, but that single word arrest only heightened Belle’s sense of gloom. As far as she could determine, the infamous Dawn Davis was softening up another potential mark, and unless Rosco could prove the Gudgeon case, no criminal charges would be made. She glanced at Rosco, who shared her look of worry while he offered an overly robust:

“Looks like its getting too dark for Frisbees and ball-chasing. I guess we’d better pack it in.”

Abe Jones’s Buster was the last of the canines to be rounded up, and then only because Abe walked up onto the inn’s veranda and leashed him. “Looks like someone was walking around the old place,” Abe remarked as he returned to the group. “Recently. The footprints are fresh.”

“Really?” both Rosco and Al Lever responded too quickly and in near-perfect unison.

Abe chortled. “You two wouldn’t happen to have already heard about this, would you? The lock on the office door? No one needs to be a forensics expert to recognize a little B and E when the perp whacks away at a door like that,” he added facetiously.

Neither man answered, so Abe shook his head. “Not that I want to know what the situation entails. But you remember what they say about friends keeping secrets from their buddies?”

It was Belle who responded. In the evening light, her face looked wan and worried. “No. What do they say?”

“If you can’t trust your pals, who are you gonna confide in? The police department?” He laughed again, then studied Belle. “Hey, puzzle lady. Lighten up.”

But she’d taken the comment too much to heart to bother producing a smile.

CHAPTER

24

“But it’s terrible, Rosco,” Belle was insisting as they drove home from the dog park. Twilight was now gone, and the sky looked like darkest night. “Sara has never hung up on me like that. And I doubt she’s done it to anyone else, either. She’s far too ladylike and self-controlled to slam down the phone. This is a side of her I’ve never seen.”

“Maybe she simply dropped it,” Rosco suggested as he maneuvered the Jeep around a four-legged shadow that darted across the country lane. “Or your cell-phone reception went on the fritz. We know how often that happens.”

“Was that a black cat running across the road?” Belle asked as she spun around in her seat and peered through the rear window.

“It wasn’t a dog,” Rosco answered. “And it especially wasn’t one of those two sacks of snooze lying prone on the backseat.”

“That’s a terrible omen, a black cat,” Belle continued as she stared into the jet-colored trees lining the roadway. Where the Jeep’s headlights sheered past them, the trunks appeared gray and lifeless; left without illumination, they reverted to an even more inhospitable sight. “What do you think it means?”

“That some poor creature isn’t as fortunate as the spoiled pooches who grudgingly allow us to share their home?”

“I’m being serious, Rosco!”

“You’re not attempting to equate a lost or feral feline with Sara’s odd behavior, are you?” was his amused response. “That might be considered a catty remark—”

“Rosco, I’m not making a joke!”

He reached over and rested his hand on her thigh lovingly. “I know you’re not. And I realize that you’re worried about your aborted conversation with Sara, and with her weird defense of the highly questionable Ms. Davis. But I also don’t think you should start imagining dire circumstances, or peering into tea leaves, or having your palm read just because a stray cat skedaddled across the pavement. If it had been a deer, you would have been thrilled to catch sight of it.”

“That’s true,” was the pensive answer. “I guess it’s the Bambi connection.”

“And I would have been thrilled it didn’t end up as a hood ornament.”

Belle shivered at the thought and let out a long and perturbed sigh. And Rosco understood that his wife was far from convinced that the