Families are messy - 12

“Apparently, according to Mr. Rothem, he somehow knocked himself out and almost died from carbon monoxide poisoning,” the police officer told Bing before asking, “Are you a relative, sir?”

“His brother,” Bing replied. Putting an arm around Casey’s shoulders to help him sit up he said, “Are you alright? Do you want to go inside?”

“Yes to both, and the sooner the better,” Casey muttered, seeing some of his neighbors watching with almost macabre interest.

Bing helped him into the house, the officer following right behind them. Once Casey was seated on the sofa the officer beckoned Bing to one side of the room, asking quietly, “Is there any reason your brother would have tried to kill himself?”

“You can not be serious! Of course not. If that’s what you’re thinking forget it.”

“No problems in his life, or with his job, that might have him feeling depressed?”

“None worth talking about, no. He’s in the process of getting divorced but frankly he’s more happy than upset about that.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, sir, very certain.”

The officer nodded, asked a few more questions of both men, and then left. It was fairly obvious that he still didn’t believe Casey hadn’t tried to kill himself but that there was nothing more he could do.

Once he was gone Bing sat down beside his brother. “Now, what really happened?” he asked.

Casey hesitated, then told him the same story he’d given the officer. “It was just my being a klutz,” he said in conclusion. Suddenly he realized he hadn’t seen Duke. He was about to ask Bing to find out where he’d gotten to when a bang and a deep, prolonged baying came from the back porch. He started to get up, swaying dizzily with the attempt. Bing immediately went to open the door.

Duke raced through to the living room, putting his paws on Casey’s knees so that he could lick his face. “Slobberer,” Casey grumbled, but he hugged him tightly before telling him to get down. “I guess I owe you my life, Duke,” he said softly, patting the bloodhound’s head.

“And he owes you for a new shirt,” Bing commented with a small laugh as he went to get a damp cloth so Casey could clean up. Then he helped Casey upstairs to his bedroom. “Are you okay with getting ready for bed on your own,” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so. Thanks though. I probably would have just slept on the sofa if you hadn’t been here.”

Bing patted his shoulder. “That’s what big brothers are for. Now I better get back home and let Sammy know everything’s alright.” He paused, looking at Casey. “It is, isn’t it?”

“I’m fine, honest. All I need is a good night’s sleep so stop worrying. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Better,” Bing said with a smile before heading out of the room.

A minute later Casey heard the front door close and sighed in relief. He really did need to sleep, and he also needed to talk to Marcia because it was beginning to look like her theory might be right. Someone wanted him dead, and he had no idea who it was.