A Catered Birthday Party Part 24

"Thank G.o.d," Libby said.

"What do you mean, thank G.o.d?" Sean asked, even though he knew exactly what she meant.

"Where were you?" Libby demanded of him. "We were worried."

"Well, you shouldn't have been," Sean shot back. He was hungry and tired, and he was stressed from the Mini Cooper. He needed a cup of tea. He didn't need to be attacked. Okay. Maybe his daughters had a point, but they could be more tactful about it. "I'm not two," Sean told them. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much."

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" asked Bernie. She decided it would be better to skirt the topic her dad had raised.

Sean took out his phone and looked at it. "Guess I forgot to turn it on."

"You're always forgetting to turn it on. What's the point of having it if you don't use it?" Libby said.

"He uses it," Bernie told her. "He just uses it when he wants to."

"Are you saying I turned it off?" Sean said as he struggled to take off his jacket. He was d.a.m.ned if he was going to ask either of his daughters for help.

Bernie nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"I'm ent.i.tled to some privacy now and then," Sean responded.

"We never said you weren't," Libby said.

Her dad glowered at her. "These cell phones are the curse of the modern age. We'd all be better off without them."

Bernie rolled her eyes. "Let's not go on that rant, shall we?"

"I'm not sure you do value my privacy," Sean told her as he wiggled his left arm out of his sleeve. The right sleeve was easy. "I'm not sure you do at all."

Bernie lifted her hands in the air and let them drop back down. "The point of having the phone is so we can call you too."

"Thank you for the technological update," Sean snapped. The last thing he needed was to be chastised by his children. He wasn't some old fart they had to keep track of twenty-four/seven and he'd kill himself before he'd let that happen. No nursing home for him, that was for sure.

"We were worried," Libby said. "Because you're usually..."

Sean gestured to the wheelchair. "Sitting there."

"Yes," Bernie said. "I'm glad that you're feeling stronger, but we were getting concerned."

"You don't have to be."

"The least you could have done was leave a note," Libby said.

That made Sean even madder, mostly because he knew it was true. "In case you've forgotten, I'm your father," he informed them.

"We know," Bernie said. She paused while she thought of the right thing to say. When he got this bullheaded, it was difficult to know how to proceed. "Have you ever considered the fact that we may need to call you for advice?" she finally said.

Sean softened slightly. At least his daughters cared for him-even if they were inclined to smother him, a trait they'd gotten from their mother. But still. They did love him. Which was more than a lot of other people could say about their children. So, in that sense he was lucky.

"I talked with Ramona," Sean said, changing the subject.

Libby frowned. She didn't understand. "Ramona? Did she come here?"

"No. I went there."

"How did you get out there?" Bernie asked. She'd figured her dad had gone off on a walk someplace. "She's out on Route Sixty-three."

"I know where she is. Samantha drove me."

Libby's eyes widened. "Samantha? As in Samantha with the ever-changing hair color? That Samantha?"

"That's right. That Samantha." Sean heard a roar from outside as she took off.

"You went in her Mini Cooper?" Bernie asked.

Sean drew himself up. "Why are you so surprised?"

"It's just that you're too..."

"Old?"

"No," Libby said. "That wasn't what I meant."

"Infirm? Hidebound?"

"We're just surprised that you'd ride in one," Bernie said. "Considering your opinion of them and all."

"People change," Sean said as he made his way to the straight-backed armchair next to the sofa.

The chair had just the right amount of padding and depth. If he used the arms on either side for support, he could get in and out of it by himself. And even though his wheelchair was actually more comfortable, he'd sit in the armchair for as long as he could possibly manage it. In fact, he was going to ask Bernie to fold the wheelchair up and put it away. He didn't even want to see the dratted thing. He was just going to a.s.sume that his remission would last forever.

"So does this mean I can get one?" Bernie asked.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. My answer is no. Under no circ.u.mstances. Those vehicles shouldn't be on the road," Sean opined as he slowly lowered himself into his chair. Boy was he glad to be back. This afternoon had tired him out more than he thought.

"How did you and Samantha get together?" Libby asked.

Sean was just about to tell Libby that if she'd get him some tea and a couple of chocolate chip cookies he'd tell her when he heard the bottom outside door slam.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Sean asked.

Both Bernie and Libby shook their heads.

Then they heard footsteps on the stairs. They were coming up hard and heavy. Before anyone had a chance to do anything Richard Colbert burst into the room.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about?" Sean asked.

"You know what I'm talking about," Richard shot back. His face was red with anger. "I'm talking about the dog."

"Are you nuts?" Bernie demanded for the second time that day. "You can't come barging in here like this."

"I certainly can," Richard said. "I have."

"Obviously," Bernie said.

Richard pointed to Sean before Bernie could go on. "Ask your dad."

Bernie took a step forward. "Ask him about what?"

"About the dog," Richard cried. "I just told you. What are you, some kind of moron?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Bernie told Richard.

Richard ignored her and moved closer to Sean. "Ramona called just after you left. She told me that you and Samantha had been out to her house to ask if she was missing a dog."

Sean steepled his fingers together. This was going to be interesting. "We didn't know it was your dog," Sean explained in a reasonable tone of voice, a tone that seemed to p.i.s.s Richard off even more. "For that matter, we still don't know."

"Who else could it be?" Richard snarled. "La.s.sie?"

"I thought La.s.sie was a collie," Sean said. Then he went on before Richard could say anything else. "Samantha found the dog wandering out by the road. There was no collar on her."

"How could it be out on the road?" Richard demanded. "The thing was in its crate in the kitchen."

"Then obviously it's not your dog," Sean replied.

"Of course it is!" Richard yelled.

"Maybe someone let it out," Sean said.

"I bet Samantha did," Richard said promptly. "It would be just like her to do something like this. She's always going on about the rights of animals and stupid stuff like that. Wait till I tell her dad. She's going to be out on the street in two seconds flat. All the things I've done for her and this is how she repays me, by stealing my dog?"

"You should calm down and think about what you're saying," Sean said.

"Calm down!?" Richard yelled. "Calm down?!"

Bernie started to reach for her cell but Sean gestured for her to stop. He didn't want the police up here-for several reasons. But mostly what he wanted was to study Richard Colbert's reactions. At the moment, Richard seemed to Sean to be a man who had a low frustration tolerance.

He waited for another second and then he said, "First of all, as I said, we don't know this dog is Trudy."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course she is."

"Is she microchipped?" Sean asked.

Richard shook his head. "Annabel never wanted to do it."

"Any special markings?"

Richard shook his head again. "Just call her. She'll answer to her name."

"That doesn't prove anything. She could be Trudy, but not your Trudy." Sean put up his hand to forestall Richard's comments. "But even if the dog that Samantha found is Trudy, why would she steal her and then tell Ramona she had her? Think about it. What you're suggesting makes no sense. Why would she tell me, for that matter?"

"I don't know," Richard said. "Maybe because she knew your daughters were investigating the ridiculous allegations my late and not too lamented wife made, and she thought Trudy could tell them something."

"Can you hear yourself?" Bernie said to him. "Trudy telling us something? Come on. I mean, I know Trudy is famous, but I didn't know talking was one of her talents."

A spurt of anger crossed Richard's face before he managed to erase it. He made a fist with his right hand and slammed it down into the open palm of his left hand. "Then you tell me what happened. I'm waiting to hear."

Sean shrugged. "The obvious answer is that someone let the dog out. The question is, who? Maybe it was Joanna."

Richard shook his head. "She'd never do something like that."

"Maybe it was an accident," Sean said.

"Joanna doesn't do accidents."

"Then someone else," Sean replied.

Richard's face contorted while he thought. "Melissa," he muttered. "The little b.i.t.c.h. I've had about all I can take of her."

That's interesting, Sean thought, as he waited for Richard to say more about Melissa. But he didn't. Instead he said, "I'll sort everything out later. Right now I need the dog. Where is she?"

Sean tried to put on an expression of sincere regret. "I would have told you if you'd given me the chance."

"Told me what?"

"Unfortunately, Trudy ran away immediately after Bernie got her washed. Bernie was putting her in the van when she just took off after a squirrel. Bernie looked forever, but she couldn't find her. Isn't that right, Bernie?"

"Oh, yes," Bernie said, taking up her father's lead. "It was terrible. Poor thing. But now that I know it's Trudy, I feel even worse."

"Is that a fact?" Richard said.

"It most certainly is," Bernie told him.

"All I can say is that that dog had better be around someplace."

"I'm sure someone will find her. In fact, we'll go out looking," Bernie said, which Sean thought was going a tad too far. "If we see her, you'll be the first to know," she chirped.

Richard rounded on her. "That tone doesn't fool me. I know you have something to do with this. I just don't know what. Yet."

Bernie put her hands on her hips and drew herself up on her stilettos. "Is that a fact? Well, maybe you're the one who helped her disappear. Maybe you did to her what you did to your wife. You had a motive."

Richard's eyebrows shot up. "Are you saying I killed her?"