by V. M. Burns
“Red Olson.” He shook her hand.
Dixie sat back down, and Red leaned on the arm of the sofa nearest where I was sitting. I tried not to notice, but if the glance that passed between Stephanie and Dixie was any indication, they definitely noticed.
“Now, you never mentioned you knew Freemont Hopewell.” He looked at me.
“You never asked. I only met him this week and didn’t realize it was important.”
“How well do you know him?” His tone implied he wasn’t just being nosy.
“Not well.” I told him about my job at the museum and Freemont sending me flowers. I told him about lunch yesterday.
He listened with a scowl.
“Why? What’s Freemont have to do with Theodore Livingston?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe nothing, but it seems a bit of a coincidence.”
I held up Aggie, who had been sleeping on my lap. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to sic my attack poodle on you.”
Aggie yawned as though she’d had a tough day, which made everyone laugh.
Red reached out and scratched her behind her ear. “Freemont was one of Robert Hansen’s business partners.”
I looked at Dixie, and she shrugged. “Did you know?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t suppose there’s a chance Livingston died of natural causes?” I asked.
“Not likely.”
We waited for more. Eventually, he sighed. “He was strangled.”
I shuddered. I hadn’t liked Theodore Livingston, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
Officer Lewis joined our group. “Well, another body. You’ve certainly been busy.” His eyes had an intensity that implied he held me responsible. “You’ve been in Chattanooga less than a month, and already you’ve found two dead bodies. It’s a wonder we found anyone before you arrived.”
Dixie and Stephanie objected.
“You can’t honestly believe I had anything to do with these two murders.” I stared at him.
Red sat quietly for a bit. “I can vouch for Mrs. Echosby from roughly nine this morning until we found the body.”
“She never left your sight during that period?”
He shook his head. “For approximately forty minutes while she showered and dressed, but there is no way she would have had time to come over to the pool house, murder Mr. Livingston, and get back without me noticing.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Besides, we both know you don’t believe she strangled that man, so let’s stop wasting time.”
Officer Lewis’s eyes flashed for a second, and he clenched his jaw in a way that told me he was fighting for control. After a few seconds, he flashed a phony smile. “Well, I may be just a normal cop and not as smart as the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, but where I come from, you need evidence before you discount potential murder suspects.” He grimaced.
Red was about to rise, but I clutched his hand, and he stopped.
“Now, the way I see it, we’ve got one common denominator in all these murders, and it’s you.” He pointed at me. “You had a fight with Mr. Livingston in front of an entire room full of people where you were heard threatening him. You also assaulted him.”
His initial accusations seemed comical, but I felt shame when he mentioned the fight. However, Officer Lewis showed no mercy. “Until we get the coroner’s report back on the time of death, you are a person of interest in this investigation.” He pointed his finger in my face. “So don’t think about leaving town.” He turned and marched away.
“Round one to Officer Lewis,” Dixie muttered. “The shrew-faced little troll.”
“I’m sorry.” Red paced. “If I hadn’t made him angry, he might have used his head and thought things through and wouldn’t have come down so hard on you.”
Stephanie patted my hand. “Well, you better believe I’ll be sticking around now. There’s no way I’m going to let him railroad you, although I’m not licensed in Tennessee.”
“I’m going to call my husband’s attorney.” Dixie whipped out her cell phone. “He’s as slick as a greased pig, but he’s a darned good lawyer.” She walked over to a corner to make her call.
I leaned forward and rested my head in my hands. “I can’t believe I’m being accused of murder, again.”
Stephanie rubbed my back and comforted me.
“Not again. I can’t believe this is happening to me again. I don’t want to go through this again. I can’t go back to jail.”
Chapter 13
“What do you mean ‘back to jail’?” Red stared at me.
I was too upset to even talk about it. I gave him a look that said, Don’t even go there.
He read the look properly and held up his hands in surrender.
Dixie finished her call and hurried over. “That slick shyster is out of town at some convention. He won’t be back until Tuesday, but I left a message for him to call as soon as he gets back.”
“I could be arrested by then, the way Officer Lewis was behaving, but I appreciate you for trying.” I tried to smile, but I didn’t think it came across very well.
Dixie plopped down in her chair. “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark and in the state of Tennessee too, if that’s how policemen treat new residents.”
I loved how Dixie quoted or misquoted famous sayings when she was nervous. For some reason, it made me smile.
Aggie must have sensed my mood. She moved from her position on the sofa next to me and crawled under my arms and into my lap. She then stood on her hind legs with her paws on my shoulders. Unsure of what was going on, or perhaps motivated by a desire to comfort, she reached up and placed her paw on the left side of my neck. It was a touchingly sweet gesture, but then she dug her nails into my shirt and hoisted herself and climbed onto my neck.
“Ouch.” I tried to pull her off, but she gripped my hair and shirt with vigor.
Eventually, it took both Stephanie and Red to get me untangled. Stephanie handed Aggie back to me, and I put her on the floor, careful to keep her claws away from my clothes and hair.
Stephanie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “I’m calling Christopher. I doubt if he’s licensed in Tennessee either, but he may be able to recommend someone.” She took a couple of steps, punching numbers as she walked. “Then I’m going to call Joe. Job or no job, he needs to get back here and help.”
Christopher Benjamin Williams was a friend of Stephanie’s from Lighthouse Dunes who was also an attorney. He represented me when the police thought I’d killed my husband.
Dixie reached over and took over Stephanie’s patting and soothing responsibilities.
Red paced. After a few turns around the room, he turned awkwardly. “This is crazy. I can’t believe he actually believes you killed him.” He mumbled something that sounded like What a bass, but then he resumed pacing, and it wasn’t really clear. He whipped his phone out of his pocket and walked, dialing.
“He seems nice.”
I turned my head to the side and gave Dixie my You have got to be kidding me look. Now was definitely not the time.
“Sorry. I know it’s not the right time, but it’s either that or I’ll start spouting off crazy quotes because that’s all that’s going through my head right now.”
“Like what?”
“Lord, what fools these mortals be.” She looked sheepish.
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” we said together.
We looked at each other for a few moments and then burst out laughing.
Stephanie returned and stared at us. “Are you two hysterical? Let me know if I need to slap you.”
For some reason, that made us laugh more.
“Okay, let me in on the joke because I could sure use a good laugh.”
I pulled myself together
and wiped away the tears. “It’s nothing, dear, just the stress.”
“Christopher is going to ask around for recommendations, and I couldn’t reach Joe.” She flopped down on the sofa. “Probably a good thing, since I think I was slightly hysterical and would have burst into tears.”
I looked at my daughter and my best friend and realized I was dragging everyone down. Now wasn’t the time to have a collapse and fall apart. The last thing I wanted was to bring others down because I was indulging in a pity party, no matter how well deserved it might be. I took a few deep breaths and tried to focus my mind. I sat up straight. “Okay, I’m done feeling sorry for myself.” I looked at Dixie and Stephanie. “This sucks. Life isn’t fair. Yadda yadda. The bottom line is God helps those who help themselves.”
Dixie and Stephanie both sat up straighter.
“Okay, Sherlock, what’s your plan?” Stephanie asked.
I looked from Dixie to Stephanie. “We’re going to find the real killer.”
Dixie slapped her thigh. “Hot damn!” She held out her hand.
Stephanie grinned. “Count me in.” She put her hand atop Dixie’s.
“Let’s do it.” I put my hand on top of theirs, and we pumped them twice and then raised them in the air.
Chapter 14
“What’s going on here?” Red walked over and stared at our display of solidarity.
“Nothing.” I lowered my hand and stood up. “Are they done?”
Officer Lewis stood in a corner near the door talking to a uniformed policeman.
I headed for the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
“It’s late, and I’m hungry. So, unless I’m under arrest, I’m leaving.” I picked up Aggie. I opened the door and looked back. “You know where I live if you have more questions.” I looked at Dixie, Stephanie, and Red, who seemed to be frozen in place. “You coming?”
Dixie grabbed her purse and hurried out the door. Stephanie and the golden retriever followed closely behind. I looked at Red, who seemed conflicted.
He stared from me to Officer Lewis. Only the flash of mirth in his eyes indicated he found the situation amusing. “No. You go ahead. I’ll be along shortly.”
I nodded and walked out.
Outside, Dixie and Stephanie waited.
“That was brilliant.” Dixie held up a hand, and we high-fived. “Looks like the game’s afoot.”
“Where to now?” Stephanie took a bag and cleaned up after the golden relieved himself.
“I was serious when I said I’m hungry. Let’s grab some lunch and come up with a plan of action.”
We walked the short distance back to the house and gave the dogs another opportunity to take care of business. None seemed inclined; they seemed to prefer to sit on the back deck and look at us through the door. So we let them back in. I headed to the bedroom, expecting Aggie to follow; I was surprised to find she wasn’t behind me. Instead, she and the golden sat by Dixie’s feet and stared as if in a trance.
“What have you done to my dog?” I asked.
Dixie looked down as if noticing them for the first time. She smiled. “I was training my dogs earlier.” She stood up and reached in her pocket. She pulled out a plastic bag. She held up the bag, and Aggie got on her hind legs and danced around like a ballerina on a music box.
“What’s that, doggie crack?” Stephanie asked.
Dixie praised Aggie and the golden, who was seated and attentive. “Pretty much. It’s hot dogs.” She reached inside the bag and held up a small piece.
Aggie sat, then stood, then turned around three times and sat.
“Sit.” She held the hot dog in her hand. The golden lifted his butt and then repositioned it.
Dixie immediately gave him a treat. “Good boy.” She then turned to Aggie. “Sit.”
Aggie bounced around but eventually sat.
Dixie quickly praised her and gave her the treat.
Aggie gobbled the hot dog as if she had been starved. When she was done, she immediately returned to sitting.
Dixie reached in the bag and pulled out more treats. She turned to the golden. “Down.”
Instantly, the dog slid back and lay down in sphinxlike fashion, never taking his eyes off Dixie.
“Good boy.” She gave him the treat. She then turned to Aggie. “Down,” she said firmly.
This time, Aggie seemed confused. She sat. She stood. She turned. Nothing was getting her the treat. She barked.
Dixie gave the command again. “Aggie, down.” This time she put the treat in front of her nose and slowly brought it down to the ground.
Aggie followed the treat with her body. The instant her belly hit the ground, Dixie lavished her with praise and gave her the treat.
“Wow.” I stared openmouthed. “You’re good.”
“The power of soul-selling treats.” Dixie stood up.
I looked at the dry dog biscuit I held in my hand and realized I’d have to up my game if I expected results. “Point taken.” I walked to the refrigerator and got a slice of string cheese.
“Aren’t you worried about her getting overweight?” Stephanie asked. “Or, getting...bound up.”
I paused.
Dixie shook her head. “The special treats are only used for training purposes. The dog biscuits are fine for everyday. Eventually, she’ll figure out what you want her to do, and you won’t need to bribe her. However”—she took the cheese from my hand—“she’s a small dog, so I’d break off a small amount of cheese. A small piece can go a long way.” She pulled off a couple of tiny pieces. “Where’s her kong?”
I went to the dog bed and pulled out the red-rubber toy Dixie had encouraged me to buy and handed it to her.
She stuffed the cheese inside the toy and used the dog biscuit to plug the hole and keep it inside. She turned to Stephanie. “Do you have one?”
Stephanie shook her head. “Joe thought I was getting too attached and discouraged me from buying too many toys.”
“No problem.” Dixie ran out to her car and came back with a large black kong. “I always keep extras in the glove box in case of emergency.” She put more of the string cheese inside and took a standard poodle–sized dog biscuit that must have also been a part of her emergency supplies and used it to plug the hole. “There.” She handed one to each of us. “They will be able to smell the cheese and will be occupied trying to get it out of the kong.”
This time when I called Aggie and walked to the bedroom, she followed.
Stephanie patted her leg, and the golden followed her into the bedroom.
Television on and dogs engrossed in trying to get to the cheese inside the rubber toys, we slipped out of the bedroom and closed the door.
We climbed into Dixie’s Lexus and headed out. She drove to a chain restaurant near the mall that was known for Asian cuisine and parked.
We were seated at a booth near the back of the restaurant. We ordered cocktails, spare ribs, and lettuce wraps to share for an appetizer and prepared to get to work. I pulled out a notepad and pen. “Now, does anyone believe these two murders are not related?” I looked from Dixie to Stephanie.
Both women shook their heads.
“Good. Neither do I.” I drew a line down the center of the page and wrote “Robert Hansen” on one side and “Theodore Livingston” on the other. “I think we need to start by listing what we know about each of them.”
We rattled off what few details we knew. Unfortunately, the list seemed pretty sparse and contained a lot of words like “mean,” “busybody,” and “nosy,” when it came to Theodore Livingston’s side. Robert Hansen’s side was even more bare, with words like “under surveillance by the TBI,” “Cayman Islands,” and “angry I rented the house.”
The waiter brought our appetizers and drinks and took our entrée orders. When he left, I
set my notebook aside while we ate.
“We don’t know much about either of them, do we?” Dixie looked discouraged.
Stephanie sighed. “I don’t know if this will be as easy as it was last time.”
I thought about that for a minute. “I don’t know that figuring out who murdered your father was easy. However, we can’t get discouraged. We just need more information, and there’s only one way to get it.”
They both looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“We have to search for it. Look, Theodore Livingston was mean and hard to get along with. However, that’s nothing new. He’s probably been that way for a long time and no one killed him.” I looked around, and they nodded. “Something must have happened recently to make him dangerous to someone.”
“What?” Dixie asked.
“That’s what we need to find out.” I tapped my fork against the table absentmindedly. “Something changed.” Suddenly it hit me. I sat up at attention, and my heart raced. “Dear God. I know what changed.”
Dixie and Stephanie waited.
“Robert Hansen was murdered.”
“Yeah, we know that,” Stephanie said slowly.
I held up my notepad. “My nosy, busybody neighbor, Theodore Livingston, must have seen the murderer.”
The reality of what I said must have dawned on both of them at the same time as their eyes grew wide.
Dixie smacked the table. “You’re right! That has to be it.”
I sighed. “Well, it’s logical, and it makes sense. We won’t know for sure until we catch the murderer, but at least it’ll be a good place to start.”
They both nodded.
“Well done, Mom.”
I beamed. “Thank you.”
“Okay, so we think Theodore Livingston saw the murderer kill Robert Hansen. Either the murderer saw him, or Livingston told him he knew.” I paused. “Based on my limited experience with him, my money is on the latter.”
Dixie nodded. “Agreed. That crotchety old fool would have enjoyed boasting about how he knew what he did—”
“Or she,” Stephanie added. “It could have been a woman.”