Bending the Paw

by Diane Kelly

  Fearing he might put the weapon to himself, I softened my voice. “You’re not in big trouble yet, Greg. All you’ve done so far is put on a show, just a setting and some props.” I hoped he was buying this. With his crazed expression, it was impossible to tell. “You’ve suffered a head injury. You weren’t thinking straight when you took the police officer’s weapon. But if you raise that gun now, Greg, everything changes. You won’t be able to see Shelby. She’s waiting for you back in the ER.”

  His eyes brightened, the fog seeming to clear. “She is?”

  “Yes,” I said. “She wants to see you again. Alive. Don’t take that away from her, Greg. Don’t break her heart. Always and forever, remember?”

  He stared at me for a long moment. Brigit stood rigid by my side, ready for orders. His dazed gaze moved from me to Brigit, where it lingered for a moment before his shoulders relaxed. “Okay,” he said softly. “What do I do?”

  “Release your hold on the gun,” I said, my own still aimed at him. “Detective Jackson will take it from you.”

  He did as he’d been told, and the detective snatched the gun up from the floor. As she did, Greg’s eyes rolled back in his head and his jaw fell slack.

  I hollered, “All clear!” to let those hunkering down in the nearby rooms know the threat had been eliminated. I closed my eyes for a quick moment to thank the powers that be that nobody had been shot here tonight. “We need a doctor! Stat!”

  A woman in scrubs rushed out of a room, performed a quick assessment, and summoned help to load Greg back onto his gurney. I gave the staff a quick rundown of the situation, and the detective, Brigit, and I followed as they wheeled him back to his space in the ER.

  Overwhelmed with emotion, Shelby emitted an odd squeak and burst into tears when she saw her battered husband on the bed. She, too, seemed to teeter on her feet. Lest she also end up with a head injury, I took her arm to steady her.

  Jackson addressed Derek, hiking a thumb over her shoulder. “You can go now, Mackey.”

  He left without a word. He didn’t even ask for his gun back. Smart decision on his part. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t incur further wrath.

  The ER nurse took over, reconnecting Greg’s tubes and wires.

  When the nurse was finished, Shelby stepped up to the head of the bed and leaned over to look into her husband’s face, her tears falling onto his cheeks. Perhaps sensing she was there, he rallied momentarily, his eyes fluttering open. He offered his leading lady a small smile and reached up a hand to touch her cheek before he once again fell into unconsciousness, the scene fading to black.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  BEDSIDE MANNER

  Brigit

  Brigit wished the woman had brought the smushy-faced dog with her to the hospital so Brigit could have played with her. This place was boring. And what was with all the beeping? The sound irritated her ears. Still, she knew Megan was counting on her to sit still, so she did just that. It was her duty, after all.

  But wait … What’s that smell?

  Detective Jackson had left the room a few minutes ago, but she returned now with a crinkly bag from a vending machine. Brigit lifted her nose to scent. Potato chips. She’d only gotten to lick the dust from the bag of chips she’d come across days ago at the park. She’d love to eat some actual chips. The only question now was, would the detective share? She knew better than to beg but, boy oh boy, did those chips smell good!

  The woman sat down in the chair Derek had been sleeping in earlier and, while Brigit watched, drool dripping from her jowls, opened the bag. When she finished, she locked her eyes on Brigit’s. “This is all for you, girl. You’ve earned it.”

  Brigit wasn’t sure what the words meant, but when the detective poured the chips into a plastic kidney-shaped bowl and set it down on the floor, it could only mean one thing. The potato chips were for Brigit. Woo-hoo!

  FORTY-NINE

  REUNITED. TEMPORARILY.

  Greg Olsen

  “Shelby?”

  What was his wife doing here? And, where, exactly was here? He couldn’t seem to clear the fog in his head. To make matters worse, he felt a warm but agonizing throb-throb-throb on the side of his head. Another painful throb pulsated at his knee.

  His gaze roamed the room, taking in the IV, the woman in the suit, the uniformed cop, and the enormous, furry K-9 who’d put her front paws up on his bed to stare at him and was making the gurney shake with each wag of her fluffy tail.

  Shelby’s lip quivered. “It’s over, Greg.”

  “Over?” And then it hit him. Their plan to fake his death, collect a million dollars in insurance, say goodbye to their typical lives and humdrum existence and start a new, romantic life in France. He should have realized it wouldn’t work, that the odds were stacked against them. The bad guys might have gotten away with their crimes in movies like No Country for Old Men, Gone Girls, and The Watchmen, but real-life law enforcement was often more cunning than the cops in movies. One look at the dog and the two women staring him down from the end of his bed, and he knew he’d underestimated them.

  FIFTY

  IT’S A WRAP

  Megan

  Over the next couple of weeks, while Derek was temporarily suspended without pay, Detective Jackson and I wrapped up loose ends in the two cases.

  I discovered through some additional digging that, decades ago, James Thomas Perkins had worked in the Midwest as a salesman for a propane company, tasked with bringing in new residential accounts. Before extending credit, the company required its salesmen to obtain the Social Security numbers of prospective clients so that a credit check could be run. Perkins had kept a database of those names and numbers, and had later used that information to open business accounts with online banks in the names of the shell companies he’d established, also using fictitious names.

  The various vehicles he’d driven were rentals he’d swapped out as needed to stay one step ahead of law enforcement and the irate customers he’d ripped off. The wedding ring, too, was a farce. While he’d been married three times as a younger man, he’d been single since his forties, when his last wife had called it quits.

  Fortunately, the Stormchaser Roofing bank account still had a sizable balance when Perkins was apprehended and the account had been frozen. His victims in Fort Worth wouldn’t get all of their money back, but they’d see seventy cents on the dollar. I’d call that a victory. In light of his repeated criminal activity, and the fact that his total take added up to hundreds of thousands of dollars, the prosecutor didn’t go easy on the guy. He’d offered Perkins a plea deal of five years in the state penitentiary. Last I heard, the attorneys for each side were still haggling, and Perkins’s lawyer had threatened to let the matter go to court. Perkins would be an idiot to go to trial, though. Every potential juror and judge in the state had lost a roof to hail at one point or another. It was an arduous enough process without some scam artist swooping in to rip you off. A jury was likely to lock the guy away for life.

  The boys who’d attacked Greg would spend several weeks in juvenile detention. They were still young enough to turn themselves around, and I hoped the stint would set them straight. A life of crime and violence would be no life at all.

  Shelby and Greg were being held in separate women’s and men’s facilities, though they were able to communicate fairly regularly through their attorneys. Making false statements to law enforcement was only a Class B misdemeanor, punishable by a fine of up to two grand and 180 days in jail. The Olsens had lied to me and Detective Jackson, costing us time and energy that could have been applied to other investigations, yet they’d receive a mere slap on the wrist for it. Fortunately, insurance fraud in the amount of $300,000 or more was a first-degree felony. Such felonies were punishable by fines of up to ten grand, as well as five to ninety-nine years in prison. Greg was looking at an additional charge for taking Derek’s weapon. The defense attorneys and the DA were working out a plea deal for the couple to pay the maximum fine and ser
ve several years in prison. Greg wouldn’t enjoy his time in the clink, but it would provide him an opportunity to work on his screenplays. Meanwhile, Marseille adjusted well to her new life with Regina, who had happily agreed to keep the bulldog and posted a dozen pictures of her adorable adopted beast each day on her Facebook page.

  * * *

  It was a bittersweet day when Frankie moved out of our house and Seth and Blast officially moved in. Frankie and Zach had rented a moving truck, and the four of us spent the morning loading it with Frankie’s furniture and boxes of her personal items. I felt no small sense of satisfaction when the men carried out the television I’d rescued from the clutches of Frankie’s former boyfriend the day she and I had met.

  Frankie and I had enjoyed lots of girl time together in the house, but we were both moving forward with our lives, going on to the next natural phase. Besides, her new place was only a ten-minute drive away, and I’d see her at the fire station. Even so, we parted with hugs and tears. “I’m going to miss you,” I told her.

  “I’ll miss you, too.”

  She’d given Brigit a hug goodbye, too. I’d kissed the top of Zoe’s head, her fur sticking to my lip gloss, and reached out to ruffle the cat’s ears. “Behave, you little stinker.”

  But now, Seth and I were at the florist, speaking with a woman about my bridal bouquet and the other flowers for our wedding. Brigit and Blast had come with us. Brigit had sniffed a few of the flowers before flopping over on the floor and putting her feet in the air, as if succumbing to a scent overdose. Drama queen.

  After looking over the options and working out the pricing, we decided to go with champagne-colored roses. They’d be a nice complement to my dress, without competing with it. They’d smell nice, too.

  We returned to Seth’s Nova and, after loading the dogs in the back, he opened my door for me. “Our wedding day will be here before we know it.”

  I stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss. “I can hardly wait!”

  ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS TITLES BY DIANE KELLY

  THE PAW ENFORCEMENT NOVELS

  Paw Enforcement

  Paw and Order

  Upholding the Paw

  (an e-original novella)

  Laying Down the Paw

  Against the Paw

  Above the Paw

  Enforcing the Paw

  The Long Paw of the Law

  Paw of the Jungle

  Bending the Paw

  THE HOUSE-FLIPPER NOVELS

  Dead as a Door Knocker

  Dead in the Doorway

  THE TARA HOLLOWAY NOVELS

  Death, Taxes, and a French Manicure

  Death, Taxes, and a Skinny No-Whip Latte

  Death, Taxes, and Extra-Hold Hairspray

  Death, Taxes, and a Sequined Clutch

  (an e-original novella)

  Death, Taxes, and Peach Sangria

  Death, Taxes, and Hot-Pink Leg Warmers

  Death, Taxes, and Green Tea Ice Cream

  Death, Taxes, and Mistletoe Mayhem

  (an e-original novella)

  Death, Taxes, and Silver Spurs

  Death, Taxes, and Cheap Sunglasses

  Death, Taxes, and a Chocolate Cannoli

  Death, Taxes, and a Satin Garter

  Death, Taxes, and Sweet Potato Fries

  Death, Taxes, and Pecan Pie

  (an e-original novella)

  Death, Taxes, and a Shotgun Wedding

  PRAISE FOR DIANE KELLY’S PAW ENFORCEMENT SERIES

  “Be prepared for a laugh fest. Diane Kelly is first class.”

  —Night Owl Romance on Paw of the Jungle

  “Kelly’s writing is smart and laugh-out-loud funny.”

  —Kristan Higgins, New York Times bestselling author

  “Humor, romance, and surprising LOL moments. What more can you ask for?”

  —Romance and Beyond

  “Brimming with intelligence, a devious plot and plenty of imagination.”

  —Romance Junkies on Laying Down the Paw

  “Fabulously fun and funny!”

  —Book Babe

  “An engaging read that I could not put down. I look forward to the next adventure of Megan and Brigit!”

  —SOS Aloha on Paw Enforcement

  “Sparkling with surprises. Just like a tequila sunrise. You never know which way is up or out!”

  —Romance Junkies on Paw and Order

  “A completely satisfying and delightful read. By being neither too ‘cute’ with its police dog lead, nor too dark with its serious topic, the author delivers a mystery that is a masterful blend of police detective and cozy fiction.”

  —Kings River Life on Enforcing the Paw

  “Oh, how I love this series! Officer Megan Luz has an LOL dry humor and wit rivaling that of Kinsey Milhone. Her K-9 partner, Officer Brigit, is smarter and more protective than any three men on the force put together. Add some of the more bizarre cases in the whole Fort Worth Police Department, and handsome firefighter Seth and his bomb sniffing dog, Blast, and the reader is treated with a deliciously intense novel.”

  —Open Book Society on Enforcing the Paw

  “Four Paws Up! This is a fabulous series that is sure to win the hearts of mystery fans and dog lovers alike!”

  —Books and Trouble

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DIANE KELLY is a former state assistant attorney general and tax advisor who spent much of her career fighting, or inadvertently working for, white-collar criminals. She is also a proud graduate of the Mansfield, Texas Citizens Police Academy. The first book in Diane’s IRS Special Agent Tara Holloway series, Death, Taxes, and a French Manicure, received a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award. Book #2, Death, Taxes, and a Skinny No-Whip Latte, won a Reviewers Choice Award. Diane has combined her fascination with law enforcement and her love of animals in her K-9 cop Paw Enforcement series. Diane also writes the House Flipper series, which features a female carpenter and her sweet, crime-fighting feline sidekick. Find Diane online at www.dianekelly.com, or sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Acknowledgments

  One: St. Valentine’s Day Massacre

  Two: Home is Where the Heart Stops

  Three: Making Sense of the Scents

  Four: Slash and Splash

  Five: Blood, Sweat, and Tears

  Six: Trail to Nowhere

  Seven: Lying Low

  Eight: Take it to the Bank

  Nine: Weather or Not

  Ten: Rude Awakenings

  Eleven: Pop-Pop

  Twelve: The Sky is Falling

  Thirteen: Ice

  Fourteen: Riding Out the Storm

  Fifteen: Back to Nature

  Sixteen: A Prison of His Own Making

  Seventeen: There Goes the Bride

  Eighteen: Do Your Ears Hang Low?

  Nineteen: Is No News Good News?

  Twenty: A Civil Matter

  Twenty-One: The Big Bang

  Twenty-Two: Another Man’s Shoes

  Twenty-Three: Reasons or Deceptions?

  Twenty-Four: I Smell Bullshit

  Twenty-Five: Early to Rise

  Twenty-Six: Cashing Out

  Twenty-Seven: Pupper Playtime

  Twenty-Eight: The Smell of Freedom

  Twenty-Nine: Roof or Spoof?

  Thirty: Having a Blast with Blast

  Thirty-One: Secret Message

  Thirty-Two: Courting Trouble

  Thirty-Three: No Answer, No Answers

  Thirty-Four: Invaded

  Thirty-Five: Dead
and Gone

  Thirty-Six: The Scent of Goodbye

  Thirty-Seven: Mission Impossible

  Thirty-Eight: Table For one

  Thirty-Nine: Down Dog

  Forty: Lunch Date

  Forty-One: One Down, One to Go

  Forty-Two: The Sweet Spot

  Forty-Three: Karma’s a Bitch

  Forty-Four: Blood Trails

  Forty-Five: It’s Him, All Right

  Forty-Six: Beep

  Forty-Seven: Resurrection

  Forty-Eight: Bedside Manner

  Forty-Nine: Reunited. Temporarily.

  Fifty: It’s a Wrap

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles by Diane Kelly

  Praise for Diane Kelly’s Paw Enforcement Series

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  First published in the United States by St. Martin’s Paperbacks, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.

  BENDING THE PAW

  Copyright © 2020 by Diane Kelly.

  Cover illustration by Allen Douglas.

  All rights reserved.

  For information address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.

  www.stmartins.com

  eISBN: 9781250197405

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  St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.