The Body in the Gravel Page 13

  They were cleaning their tools when Thane pulled to the curb with Walker. Thane ran a critical eye over the drive and nodded. “Good work.”

  They’d put cones up to block anyone from driving on it and now put their tools away to come to talk to him. “Are you done with the house on Fairfield?” Jazzi asked.

  “Our projects don’t take as long as yours,” Thane said. “We moved on a while ago. We’re working on a house out north, not that far from your house, now.”

  Ansel glanced at Walker. “Are you going to live in your parents’ house since you’re in charge of the business? It needs a little updating, doesn’t it?”

  “That’s putting it nicely. Dad didn’t believe in wasting money on silly things like new floors or furniture. He waited too long. When things were getting downright shabby, he couldn’t afford to remodel. Money was too tight. He kept losing jobs because he overscheduled, and the men couldn’t get to places on time. It was Dad’s fault, not theirs. Things are getting better already, though.”

  Thane slapped him on the back. “You could use that wad of cash he kept in his desk drawer to spruce the place up and make it your own. Unless you’re sick of living there, that is. I mean, you grew up there.”

  Walker shrugged. “It’s so convenient to live close to the business, I don’t want to move, but the house holds some ugly memories. I’d like to completely redo it, make it have a different feel—something warm and relaxing. Thing is, I have no idea how to do that. I can’t picture how colors and design go together.”

  “We can give you some ideas,” Jazzi said. “I have lots of home magazines you can look at to see what you like and what you don’t.”

  “Thanks, that’s a good idea. Right now, the only thing I like is the back patio with the grill and eating area.”

  A place Darby never visited. Very telling.

  Ansel asked, “Are you and Thane up for Thursday night out? Are we still on?”

  “I’m in,” Walker said, and Thane nodded a yes.

  He turned to Jazzi. “Where are you girls going this week? We’ll go someplace else—give you your space.”

  “We decided on Trubble Brewing. The food’s great.” Both Ansel and Thane were thoughtful about Jazzi and her sister’s night out. She and Olivia both tried to support eateries downtown or on the south side of the city. The south part of River Bluffs got a bum rap in the newspapers, and it irritated them. When she and Ansel wanted a quick bite to eat, they stayed north and went to places closer to home.

  Thane grinned. “I vote we go to Buffalo Wings and Ribs. It’s not far from my place.”

  Jazzi shook her head. Ansel never turned down ribs. Walker’s eyes lit up, too. She knew where they’d be on Thursday night.

  Walker glanced at the tree that his truck had hit. The bark was scraped, and some of it was missing. “You should seal that and wrap it with something. The tree’s beautiful. You don’t want to lose it.”

  “In Wisconsin, deer used to damage trees in my parents’ yard,” Ansel said. “I know what to do.”

  Walker focused on Thane. “You’d think since someone cut the brakes on Dad’s truck, that would eliminate you from Gaff’s suspect list. Did it? The brakes had to have been slit before you and Dad argued.”

  Jazzi hadn’t thought about that, but Walker was right. “It might eliminate Earl, too.” Not that Jazzi thought Earl was the type to kill someone. “Darby didn’t grab Bea until quitting time on Monday, and then all the men left at the same time.”

  “Someone killed Darby. He didn’t just step on the shovel and hit himself in the head.” Ansel started toward the house. It was after five, and Jazzi would bet that he was starting to think about supper. Her Viking liked to have a routine. She’d already disrupted it more than he felt comfortable with when she came home later than usual after helping Gaff.

  Jerod rolled his eyes. “You don’t think Darby stood on the edge of his dump truck, knocked himself out, then fell in the gravel? We got that, Mister Tall, Blond, and Obvious.”

  Ansel chuckled. “Too bad you can’t come out with us some Thursday night.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to Franny. She’d tell me to go, but then she’d be dead tired when I got back. Maybe we should have spaced our kids ten years apart—not have a new one until the other one could babysit.”

  Jazzi snorted. “You’d be close to retirement by the time you had number three.”

  Ansel glanced at his watch again, and this time, Thane took the unsubtle hint. He motioned to Walker. “We’d better get going. It’s getting late. See you at Wings and Ribs tomorrow night.”

  “I’ll be there.” Ansel helped Jazzi carry the cooler and carafes to his van before he went to get George. Jerod walked with them to the curb and climbed into his pickup.

  He rolled down his window to tell Jazzi, “If you’re still in the mood to mother us, you used to bring big pots of soup to have with our sandwiches before you met Viking boy. Just saying.”

  She laughed. “Are you hungry for soup?”

  “Not just any soup. Your soup. It’s better than any restaurant’s.”

  If he was working at flattering her, he was doing a good job. And she had a soft spot for her cousin. “Any type in particular?”

  “I’ve been craving your black bean soup since it got chilly outside.”

  An easy recipe. “You picked the right one. I’ll bring a pot tomorrow.”

  With a smile, he pulled away from the curb.

  Ansel slid behind the steering wheel of his van and grinned at her. “You know what goes good with bean soup?”

  “Lots of things, but I bet you have something in mind.”

  “Cubano sandwiches, and no one makes ones I like more than yours.”

  “You guys are laying it on thick tonight.”

  He laughed. “It worked for Jerod. What about me?”

  “We’ll have to stop to buy a pork roast and deli ham—good bread, too.”

  “My van knows the way.” And once they reached the north side of town, he stopped at their usual grocery store.

  Jazzi added two oranges and a lime to their cart. “I’ll put the roast in the slow cooker when we get home, so it will be ready for tomorrow. You’ll have to help me make the sandwiches before we leave.”

  He gave a small salute. “Sous chef, ready for duty.”

  As usual, women congregated in the aisles he was in. Jazzi didn’t blame them. Eye candy. It was a bonus when something fun happened at the store. How many times did you see a six-five blond with rippling muscles? She thought about her list. “Pork roast.” Check. “Deli ham.” Check. “Sexy Norseman.” Double check. She threw a bag of fresh baby spinach in the cart. “Instead of lettuce on the sandwich.”

  They went to checkout, paid, and loaded their goodies in the van. George opened an eye and sniffed. The pug could smell deli ham from three miles away.

  “You have to wait,” Ansel told him on the drive home. “We bought an extra slice for you, and another for the cats to share.”

  What would he do when they had kids? If a dog could wrap him around his chubby paw, what could a toddler do? That was a thought for another day. Kids weren’t high on her to-do list. Ansel knew that and was prepared to wait.

  Chapter 29

  Jazzi carried grocery bags into the kitchen, set them on the countertop, and turned to glare at Inky. Another glass jar, holding flowers, was broken. “Really?”

  The cat stared back at her, looking innocent. Like he was the most law-abiding feline in the world. Pesky beast! She grabbed paper towels to clean up the mess and throw it away. When she opened the cupboard, there were only two mason jars she’d rinsed out. Pretty soon, she’d have to use plastic to hold the bouquets.

  The cats came to wind around her ankles, meowing. “I should send you to bed with no supper,” she told Inky. He nudged her leg with his head, all sw
eet and loving. He knew she couldn’t prove anything. The cat was too smart for his own good. He kept staring at the deli bag.

  She wouldn’t give George or the cats any treats until they ate their dry pet food. The suffering was great, but they endured it. Then when Ansel tossed them bits of ham, the joy was enormous. She shook her head as she poured the orange and lime juice over the roast in the slow cooker. She added minced onion, salt and pepper, oregano, and minced garlic. In a few hours, the kitchen would smell like heaven. Pork heaven.

  She and Ansel hurried upstairs to shower and change into their pajamas. Then they returned to the kitchen to start supper. She’d thawed shrimp for scampi—quick and easy. While the spaghetti boiled, she and Ansel worked together to make a tossed salad. The cats wouldn’t touch shrimp, but George loved them. Ansel tossed George a couple while they ate.

  When they started to the living room to relax after supper, George limped after them. He gingerly put weight on his right, front paw.

  “Is he all right?” Jazzi asked.

  Ansel bent to see. “I carried him to the van and into the house. He hasn’t really walked on it much tonight.” When he lifted his paw, George whined.

  Jazzi started to worry. She brought Ansel a flashlight so that he could see better. “Did he hurt himself?”

  Ansel’s brows furrowed. “It looks like he has a thin sliver of metal between the pads of his foot.”

  They hadn’t taken the time to rake up nails and scraps as they worked. They’d tried to keep them close to the house, though. “It could have come from the roof or the gutters. Can you pull it out with tweezers?”

  “I might miss a piece.” Ansel reached for his cell phone and called the vet. When he jammed the phone back in his pocket, he reached for his keys. “The vet’s still there, working late tonight. He’ll look at George if I take him there right now.”

  Jazzi cleared her throat and stared pointedly at his pajama bottoms. “How well do you know this guy?” Ansel looked pretty alluring in drawstring pants, but they weren’t appropriate for being out in public.

  Ansel grunted and ran upstairs to pull on his jeans. A few minutes later, he carted George to the van and raced off. Suddenly alone, Jazzi wandered back to the kitchen. By the time Ansel got back, she had the black bean soup cooked and ready to take tomorrow. They were going to have a heavy lunch. She’d try to order something light when she went out with Olivia.

  Ansel carried George into the living room and put him on the couch. “George doesn’t like going to the vet, but he was a brave dog.”

  George pricked up his ears, his lips curved as though he was smiling.

  “Did you get some medicine to fight infection?”

  “He got a shot instead, and he didn’t even whine.” Ansel stroked his fur, a proud doggie dad. Then he and Jazzi settled in front of the TV, and the cats came to snuggle with her. They were going to have a big day tomorrow. They’d start work on the gutters, and she guessed Gaff would want to make the rounds and ask more questions. Then they’d go out. She scrunched deeper on her pillow. She’d better relax while she could.

  Chapter 30

  A paw batted her cheek. Jazzi opened one eye and blinked. Inky had his face in hers, staring down at her. She glanced at the clock and pushed him away. She had another half hour to sleep.

  When the cat jumped off the bed, she rolled over to get more comfortable. Thud! Something heavy hit the floor. She propped herself on her elbows in time to see Inky walk to the next bottle of perfume on her chest of drawers and whack it over the edge. He padded to the next bottle, raised his paw, and looked at her.

  The little brat! She swung her legs over the bed, stalked to him, and tossed him into the hallway, shutting the bedroom door. She’d made it halfway back to her warm sheets and blanket when paws tried to turn the doorknob. Could he open the door? She hoped not. Then a body threw itself against the wood. Paws padded down the hall, ran, and leaped at the door again.

  What in the world? She yanked the door open, and Inky flew at her. He hit her midsection and dropped to the floor. He sat on his haunches and stared at her, unrepentant.

  She glanced at the clock. In ten minutes, the alarm would go off. She might as well stay up. On the way down the stairs, she warned the cat, “If you do that again, you’ll be locked in the basement at night. Then you won’t be able to get to our door.”

  He glanced over his furry shoulder at her and stalked to the kitchen, unconcerned. He went straight to his food bowl and meowed. She stared. “You got me up to feed you?”

  He meowed more loudly.

  “You know there are outdoor cats who have to worry about owls and coyotes, don’t you?”

  He didn’t look scared. She was filling his bowl when Marmalade came to wind around her ankles. What a nice cat. Affectionate, with good manners. She filled her bowl, too. When Ansel carried George down to join them, she poured two mugs of coffee while Ansel fed the dog.

  “Little did I know pets would rule our lives.” She plopped four pieces of pumpernickel bread in the toaster. Then she took out all the ingredients to assemble the Cubano sandwiches. “Let’s get ready first; then I’ll help you.” During the week, Ansel usually popped out of bed and was dressed, ready to start his day. She liked slower starts, but the last time she’d cooked in her pajamas, they’d smelled like chicken cacciatore until she threw them down the laundry chute and washed them.

  The pets didn’t bother going upstairs with them. They knew the routine. She and Ansel would wash up, throw on clothes, and be back soon. Jazzi didn’t bother with hair and makeup on the job. Her thick, wavy hair got yanked back in an elastic band, and any makeup she put on—except mascara—melted away.

  Once back in the kitchen, she laid out bread slices, pickles, mustard, and the slices of pork and ham to assemble the sandwiches. Ansel pitched in.

  “How are you going to heat these at the fixer-upper?” Ansel asked as they gathered things to load in the van.

  She opened a bottom drawer of the island and pulled out a panini maker and an electric skillet. The skillet wasn’t ideal for heating soup, but it would work. That was the problem with gutting kitchens. Until new appliances arrived, there was no stove, no refrigerator.

  Ansel helped her load everything in the van and then went back to get George. When they pulled to the curb at the house, Jerod was getting out of his pickup.

  “Good! You can help us with the food.” Jazzi held the appliance bag and a carafe for him to take.

  Ansel carried George to the back porch and gently set him down while Jazzi carried two coolers into the kitchen. Ansel went to bring in the tote filled with cheap bowls and silverware that Jazzi kept for lunches on job sites.

  Jerod scowled at George as he set down his load and opened the door for Ansel. “Why the special treatment for King Pug?”

  Ansel explained about his hurt paw. “I don’t want him off the porch until I rake around the house really well.”

  “Poor poochie.” Jerod patted George’s head as he passed him on his way to the garage. “We’ll pitch in. We should have done it sooner. Then we’ll rake again when we put the gutters up.”

  They armed themselves with garden and lawn rakes to do a thorough job. Then they got busy on the gutters. The back of the house went smoothly, but the sides took longer. The house was tall, at three stories, and they lost time going up and down the ladders. It had taken them only a day to install gutters on Thane and Olivia’s ranch-style home, but they’d never finish that fast here.

  From up so high, Jazzi looked over the neighborhood. Every tree blazed with color. Indiana was following its norm—the leaves changing in the middle of October. One reason she liked old neighborhoods was they had so many trees. Some of the new subdivisions were practically bare. It would take years before they had old giants like these.

  When the sun shone directly overhead, Jerod scrambled to the
ground. “You brought me a feast. I’m gonna enjoy it.”

  They stopped work and met in the kitchen. Jazzi plugged in the panini maker and pressed the first sandwich. She poured the soup into the electric skillet.

  Jerod sniffed the air. “You went for broke. I didn’t expect you to go all out.”

  She nodded toward Ansel. “You wanted soup. He wanted a sandwich. Why not? I don’t have to cook tonight.”

  “Can I work that angle every Thursday?” Jerod held out his plastic plate, and Jazzi put a Cubano on it.

  She snorted. “You know me better than that. Begging only works once in a while.”

  While the second sandwich cooked, Jerod bit into his. “I can’t wait. I thought about this all last night. I have to try it. Jeez, it’s good. How many did you make?”

  “Enough for you to take some home tonight.”

  He threw an arm over her shoulders. “You’re my favorite cousin.”

  “Yeah, you say that until Olivia offers to buy you a pizza.”

  Jerod laughed. “I didn’t say I was loyal, just appreciative.”

  Ansel ladled out soup and carried the bowls to the card table. When everyone had their food and sat down, the guys got quiet. That’s when Jazzi knew how much they liked the meal.

  They took a longer lunch break than usual. When they finished, Jerod leaned back and rested a hand on his stomach. “This is the kind of lunch that makes you want to sit in your recliner and watch a football game.”

  Ansel fed the last of his pork to George, then drained his cup of coffee. “It’s a good thing you don’t do this every day, babe. It’s going to be hard to get motivated and climb the ladder again.”

  She gathered the dirty dishes and bowls and went to the bathroom to rinse them. It was going to be a while before they hooked up the kitchen sink. Every drop of soup was gone, so she rinsed the electric skillet, too. She and Ansel carted the lunch things to the van before heading back to their ladders.

  Jazzi was putting an end cap on a gutter when Gaff called. “Are you still on for today?”