“What the hell, Evelyn…” I started, but Herm had had enough. He jerked loose from my hand, bounding up the steps and barking all the way. I ran after him, but he was too fast for me.

  Dorothy ran across the gazebo, leaping down the steps on the other side. Herm hit Evelyn at full force, knocking her backward so that she stumbled against the gazebo railing. I saw her hand go up and I saw the hunting knife she was holding flash in the sun.

  “No,” I screamed and jumped the last step, grabbing for her arm. I missed and grabbed the knife blade instead. It hurt like blazes, but it made Evelyn lose her grip. The knife fell to the floor where I managed to kick it away.

  Herm was barking desperately, and something moved at the corner of my vision.

  “All right,” a masculine voice said. “That’s enough.”

  I had never been so glad to see anyone in my life as I was to see Chief Fowler in that moment. Evelyn, on the other hand, didn’t look like she shared my opinion. “She attacked me,” she said in a trembling voice. “Her dog attacked me.” She pointed in Herman’s general direction. “That’s her knife on the floor. She tried to kill me.”

  “Nope,” the chief said. “That’s not what happened. I saw what you did, and so did these folks.” He gestured to a small group of joggers, stroller pushing moms, and wide-eyed teenagers, all of them staring at Evelyn. The chief nodded at the knife, now several feet away. “That’s yours.”

  “I never saw it before,” Evelyn said stiffly.

  “Interesting, since it was in your hand and will no doubt have your fingerprints all over it. Did she threaten you with the knife?” He turned toward Dorothy, who was now kneeling next to Herman, stroking his head.

  “She was mad at me.” Dorothy’s chin went up at a mutinous angle. “Because Brett liked me better.”

  Oh, honey. “Evelyn and Dorothy were arguing about Brett. I don’t know what the knife was about.”

  “I heard that,” Fowler said mildly. “Did you decide to rescue Dorothy then?”

  “I didn’t know she needed rescuing. I didn’t see the knife.”

  Evelyn gave me another of those killing looks. Clearly, I’d interfered with her plans. Whatever those plans might have been.

  A uniformed cop stepped onto the gazebo beside Fowler, glancing a little apprehensively at Evelyn. “Ms. Davidson, you’re under arrest,” Fowler said pleasantly, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “For assault. We’ll figure out other charges later. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you can’t afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you wish.”

  Evelyn looked stunned, so stunned she let him handcuff her wrists behind her back without complaint.

  Fowler nodded to the cop. “Take Ms. Davidson to the station. I’ll be along in a bit. After I’ve taken care of Ms. Constantine.”

  I stared at him. “I don’t need to be taken care of.”

  “I disagree.” Fowler took hold of my wrist, gently raising my hand, and I noticed the blood dripping down my fingers for the first time.

  “Oh, shit.” I collapsed onto the bench that ran around the inside of the gazebo. My hand suddenly hurt like a bitch. I guess the adrenaline had finally worn off.

  Fowler handed me his handkerchief, which I wrapped around the cut. “We need to get you to Urgent Care so they can fix you up,” he said easily.

  “I grabbed the knife because she was going to hurt my dog. Oh, God, my dog. Herman?”

  Herman padded across the floor, grinning happily. Dorothy picked up his leash.

  “I can’t take him to Urgent Care, can I? I need to call my uncle so he can come and get him. I need to wait until he’s here.”

  Fowler sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He lifted my hand so I could see the blood soaking through the handkerchief. “Waiting, I mean.”

  “I can stay with him,” Dorothy said. “I mean, I can come along with you to the clinic and stay with him outside until your uncle comes.” She glanced between us, suddenly looking like a fifteen-year-old with a lot of eye makeup. “If that’s okay.”

  “That’s good,” I said quickly. “That’ll work.”

  Fowler shrugged, resigned to having an entourage. “All right then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  The Urgent Care people got me into the exam room quickly, leaving Fowler in the waiting room and Dorothy in the parking lot with Herm. I had a deep cut across my palm, but the doctor decided it didn’t need stitches, much to my relief. She was wrapping my palm in gauze when Uncle Mike walked in.

  He looked almost as pale as Dorothy had when Evelyn had held a knife to her back. I didn’t know what Fowler had told him when he’d called, but apparently it was dire.

  “I’m okay,” I said quickly. “It’s just a cut. I’m getting a bandage. Did you see Herman outside?”

  Uncle Mike nodded, then sat down rather heavily in the exam room chair.

  “She’s going to be fine,” the doctor said briskly. “Although she’ll have to keep her hand elevated until the swelling goes down.”

  “Elevated?” I said, as the level of my catastrophe began to sink in. “I can’t do that. I have jam to make.”

  “She’ll keep it elevated,” Uncle Mike said. “Don’t worry. She’ll keep it elevated and bandaged and whatever the hell else she needs to do.” He gave me a fierce look, and I promptly shut up.

  The doctor gave me antiseptic and printed instructions for taking care of my hand. She also gave me a couple of painkillers and sent me on my way. We found Herman and Dorothy sitting on a bench outside, looking like they’d bonded.

  I picked up his leash. “Thanks for taking care of him.”

  Dorothy stared down at her flip-flops, then looked up at me. “Thank you for, like, saving me and all.”

  “Glad to do it.” I thought about saying something about Brett, but I decided to let it go. Annabelle could lecture her daughter.

  “And I’m sorry about your truck. The mud. Sorry.” At least I think that’s what she said. Her head was down and she was mumbling.

  “Okay. Do you need a ride home?”

  Dorothy shook her head. “It’s not far.”

  “Thanks, then,” Uncle Mike said. “Come on, Roxanne, time to get you home.”

  That sounded ominous. When Uncle Mike calls me Roxanne, it’s serious. But he didn’t say much on the drive. He pulled my truck into its parking space in front of the cabin, but he made no move to get out. He also didn’t look at me.

  When he finally raised his gaze, his eyes were as dark as mine, Constantine genes all the way. “Roxanne, you’re all I have left. Your dad and I lost our folks a long time ago, and then I lost Rhoda and then your dad. You’re it. I can’t spare you.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to stave off tears. I knew they’d be coming, but I didn’t want to break down just yet. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Why should you be sorry? This wasn’t your fault. None of it.” His jaw tightened. “Two people were at fault here—that bastard Holmes and his idiot girlfriend. And don’t you try to tell me she wasn’t an idiot.” He gave me a fierce look, although I had no intention of defending Evelyn.

  “Is that what Fowler told you?” I had my own theories about Evelyn’s motivations, but I hadn’t really discussed them with anyone.

  He shook his head. “Fowler told me squat. He did say you’d gotten hurt taking a knife away from Evelyn Davidson. I figured the rest out for myself. Now let’s go inside and you can tell me what happened.”

  Chapter 25

  So I did. I wasn’t sure where to start, but I decided I’d go with today’s adventure and then add details as needed. Uncle Mike had questions, a lot of them rhetorical.

  “Why did you go to that gazebo? Why didn’t you call the cops?”

  “I didn’t know what was going on there. I heard a woman and a girl arguing, and then I heard someone get slapped. Sounded like they needed an intervention. I had Herman with me, and I thought I’d be safe.” Which gave Herman a lot more credit than I usually did.

  Uncle Mike sighed and motioned for me to keep talking.

  The description of seeing Evelyn’s knife made him sit up straight, eyes blazing. “She had a knife, and you charged up there? What the everlasting hell, Roxy?”

  “It wasn’t me,” I said quickly. “It was Herman. He pulled away from me. I think he wanted to help Dorothy.” Or maybe bite Evelyn, which amounted to the same thing.

  Herman wandered across the room to rest his head on Uncle Mike’s knee. Apparently, he was a little concerned about the loud voices coming from people he loved. Uncle Mike reached out to scratch his ears, a little absently.

  I felt a new jolt of guilt as I watched him. Uncle Mike wouldn’t have let Herman charge into danger like I had. Maybe Herman would be better off with him full time. I’d have to think about that. Maybe later.

  As I went on with my story, his eyes widened but he kept his peace.

  I explained about Fowler appearing in the gazebo after I’d grabbed Evelyn’s knife, and Uncle Mike blew out an angry breath. “Did he bring in a SWAT team?”

  “No. I think he constitutes a SWAT team on his own.” I hadn’t had time to think about Fowler much, but now I took a moment to consider what he’d done. Walking into a crazy situation with a knife-wielding psycho and a bleeding woman. And he’d calmed everything down.

  I stumbled through telling the rest, summarizing Evelyn’s arrest and our trip to the Urgent Care clinic, along with Dorothy and Herman. “I still have Fowler’s handkerchief,” I finished. “I’ll see if I can wash it and get it back to him.” Although if I were him, I might not want it.

  Uncle Mike sat in silence, staring down at his boots. “Well,” he said.

  I bit my lip, waiting for him to go on. If he wanted to yell at me again, I’d take it.

  Uncle Mike pushed himself to his feet, then walked over and put his arms around me, giving me a fierce hug. “You okay now? You need anything for that hand?”

  I shook my head. “I’m okay. My hand hurts, but I took some ibuprofen. I’m coping.”

  He gave me a concerned look. “Why don’t you come up to the house with me? Watch some TV. Pop some corn.”

  “I’d like that, but I’m really tired. Maybe after I take a nap.”

  “Okay. Take your nap. Don’t worry about supper.” He turned toward the door, motioning Herman to follow him. “I’ll order pizza or something.”

  That sounded like a good idea, but I still needed to take that nap. After I called Nate and Susa. The news must have gotten around town by now, and I didn’t want anyone worrying about me.

  I had picked up my phone and stared at it for a moment, trying to decide who to call first, when someone rapped on my door.

  Maybe it’s Susa. Or Nate. Either or both would be welcome, as long as I didn’t have to go through the whole story again. Just thinking about it made my throat ache.

  I pulled the door open and saw Chief Fowler standing on my porch.

  It’s safe to say he was among the last people I’d expected to come around the place. If nothing else, I thought he probably had more than enough to do at the station, what with booking Evelyn for assault and all. I hadn’t seen him since he’d dropped me at the clinic and bullied the staff into treating me immediately.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, and I realized I’d been staring at him blankly.

  “Of course, sure.” I stepped aside to let him into the living room.

  He glanced around the place as he removed his Stetson, taking in the cases of jam I had stacked against the wall, the slightly worn furniture, and my It must be jelly, cause jam don’t shake like that poster. Okay, so I wasn’t a whiz at interior décor. Nate hadn’t seemed to mind.

  “If you’ve come to tell me I was an idiot with Evelyn Davidson, you can save yourself some time,” I said. “I’ve already concluded that for myself, believe me.”

  “I don’t know that it was all that idiotic,” he said mildly. “You were trying to help a kid who was being threatened. And you had your dog.” He glanced around the room, probably looking for said dog.

  “Herman’s with my uncle at the main house.”

  “According to Dorothy Dorsey, the dog deserves a medal.” Fowler gave me a dry smile. “I’m here because I need to take your statement, Ms. Constantine.”

  “Roxy. After all this you might as well call me Roxy.”

  “Right. I need your statement, Roxy.”

  “Okay. Have a seat. Would you like some something to drink? Coffee or iced tea?” I figured I wouldn’t bother offering him a beer. I’d seen enough cop shows to know he wouldn’t drink on duty. Probably.

  He shook his head as he dropped into the easy chair, placing his hat on the floor near his boot. “No, thanks. How did you end up in between Ms. Davidson and Dorothy?”

  I sat down on the couch opposite him. “Herman and I were on a walk. I was waiting for you to get back to your office.”

  “Me?” He frowned. “Why did you want to see me?”

  “Because I’d found some stuff about Brett I thought you should know.”

  “What information is that?” He pulled out a notebook and rested it on his knee.

  “About Brett and the high school mentorship program. I talked to the principal, Dolores Cantu, and she told me she suspected Brett of inappropriate behavior with female students. I didn’t know Dorothy was one of the girls, though. I mean, I guess she was, judging from what she said.”

  Fowler nodded slowly. “Actually, I already found out about that. Ms. Cantu called me yesterday. She said she’d been talking to you.”

  I steeled myself for another lecture on staying out of his investigation. “I was going to tell you about it.”

  “Ms. Cantu said she’d decided to talk to me because of her conversation with you. Until then, she hadn’t realized her problems with Brett Holmes might be relevant to the investigation.” Fowler gave me a level look.

  “Were you going to talk to her before that?”

  He shook his head. “You’d mentioned the mentorship thing, but I didn’t think it was important. It was on my list, but not high on my list.”

  “So I helped you.” I let myself smile. Cautiously.

  One corner of his mouth edged up. “I wouldn’t go that far. But I’m less inclined to yell at you than I was before.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling better than I had since I’d seen Uncle Mike at the clinic.

  “I still need your statement.”

  I described my encounter with Evelyn and Dorothy a lot more succinctly than I had when I’d told Uncle Mike, but Fowler didn’t interrupt, which made it go a lot faster.

  “You didn’t know she had a knife?”

  I shook my head. “Not at first. She had one hand on Dorothy’s shoulder, and I guess she had the knife pressed against her with the other hand. I only saw the knife when Dorothy moved. How much did you see?”

  He frowned slightly, as if this was some kind of academic exercise. “I need your version of it first. Then I can fill in the blanks.”

  I told him about Herman rushing Evelyn, and that I’d been afraid she’d stab him. “I tried to grab her arm and I grabbed the knife instead.”

  Fowler winced. “Painful.”

  “Very. But I got the knife away from her and kicked it across the floor. Dorothy helped.”

  “Yeah, I saw most of that. So did a lot of witnesses in the park.”

  “Did you hear what she said?”

  “Some of it. You want to give me your version?”

  I tried to remember all the stuff Evelyn had been yelling at Dorothy. At that moment, it seemed important. “She told Dorothy to shut up about Brett. She said nothing Dorothy said would make any difference since he was dead, and she ought to let him be.”

  “What did Dorothy say.”

  “She thought Brett was in love with her. He’d said she was special.”

  Fowler sighed. “I was afraid of that. Is that when Ms. Davidson hit her?””

  “I didn’t see it, but I heard it. And I got there right afterward.”

  “So then what did they say?”

  “They both told me to leave, but I thought Dorothy might need help, so I suggested Dorothy leave, too. Dorothy started to go—that’s when Evelyn grabbed hold of her. I guess she had the knife then, but I didn’t know that.”

  “What else?”

  I made a quick decision not to tell him about Dorothy mudding my truck. I’d let Dorothy tell him herself if she felt like it. “I told Evelyn to let her go, that she was just a kid. So then we argued about that, and I made some crack about Brett liking young girls. That’s when she said we both needed to shut up about it and move on. Dorothy tried to get away and Herm went charging in.”

  “Right. I was there for that.”

  “How did you happen to be in the park anyway?”

  He shrugged. “It’s where I eat my lunch usually. I heard the shouting and figured I might need to check it out.”

  “What was Evelyn doing in the park with Dorothy anyway? Did she say?”

  “She didn’t, but Dorothy did. Apparently, Ms. Davidson had been telling people she and Holmes were in a, quote, committed relationship, unquote.” Fowler’s smile was more like a grimace. “That didn’t sit right with Dorothy, so she went to Davidson’s office to confront her. Davidson suggested they go to the park to discuss it.”

  I figured Evelyn probably wasn’t excited about people in her office hearing Dorothy claim she had a relationship with Brett, too. “Did she take the knife to threaten Dorothy? To make her keep quiet?”

  “Possibly.” Fowler shrugged. “That may be what she’ll claim.”

  I took a deep breath. “Do you think Evelyn killed Brett?”

  Fowler gave me an owlish look, but then he shrugged again. “Probably. There’s evidence that she was there that night. My guess is she found out Holmes was trying to seduce teenage girls. That would be enough for any woman to decide a guy was a scumbag. They may have fought. And then she hit him with a cast iron skillet.”