Killer Cables
Page 18
“I see you have a visitor,” April says, stroking Cardinal’s shiny, black head.
“He’s a lucky boy,” I tell her. “Eric found him criss-crossing Water Street. He was almost hit by a car.”
“Poor guy!” April says, scratching Cardinal’s neck.
“Do you mind if we make a detour on our way to Stop Guac & Roll? To take Cardinal home?” I ask.
Stop Guac & Roll is a new Mexican restaurant in Harmony Lake. One of the perks of living in a tourist town is having a wide variety of restaurants to choose from. We don’t have any chain restaurants or drive-thrus, but we have some of the best family-owned restaurants anywhere.
“Absolutely,” April replies. “We have to take Cardinal home because he’s a good boy.”
Her voice is high-pitched and excited. I think she’s talking more to Cardinal than she is to me.
We get in the car. Me in the front seat so I can drive and April in the back seat with Cardinal since she thinks he might get lonely.
On the way to Father Daniel’s house, we discuss our order at Stop Guac & Roll. We studied the menu online to prepare for our lunch.
“You’ll order the chiles rellenos, and I’ll order the chimichangas, and we’ll share,” April reminds me
“And we’ll order the nachos to start,” I add.
“Of course, we’re ordering nachos. We have to order nachos. And maybe a quesadilla,” she replies.
I pull into Father Daniel’s driveway, and a light drizzle blurs the view through my windshield. It’s a messy, early spring day. Lawns and gardens are wet and muddy, and the ground is soft and squishy.
Cardinal recognizes he’s home. He whimpers and bounces in the back seat.
I get out of the car and so does April. She’s holding Cardinal’s rope-leash with both hands. Cardinal jumps out of the car behind her and bounds onto the lawn, almost yanking April right off her feet. His paws are caked in mud, and April has planted herself firmly with both feet on the driveway and her butt sticking out. She looks like she’s playing tug-of-war, not wrangling a Labrador retriever.
“I’ll ask Father Daniel for a towel so we can wipe his paws,” I say, climbing the steps to the front door of the large, Victorian-era, two-storey home.
“Good idea,” she grunts, her voice strained from the effort of resisting Cardinal’s attempts to wander farther than the length of his rope-leash will allow.
I ring the doorbell and wait. Then I knock. Then I remember Father Daniel telling me Jill isn’t here. He’s a slow-moving, elderly man in a large house. He’s probably on his way to the door, but it’s taking him a while.
Sure enough, the door eventually opens with Father Daniel and his walker on the other side.
“Bonjour, madame!” He smiles broadly.
“Anglaise, Father Daniel,” I remind him.
I stand aside so he can see Cardinal behind me, pulling April.
“Do you have a towel, Father Daniel? Cardinal’s paws are too muddy to come into the house.”
“Ah, yes!” Father Daniel replies in his thick French accent. “Bring him to the side door. Jill and Vanessa have a paw wiping station set up there.” He points to his right. “I’ll meet you there.”
I nod and turn to leave the porch. Father Daniel closes the door.
Vanessa Grandin is Father Daniel’s other caregiver. She and Jill share the job. They help him with his personal hygiene, cook and clean for him, run errands, chauffeur him to and from services at St. Francis of Assisi Church, and organize his appointments. I don’t know Vanessa very well. She’s in her mid-to-late twenties and moved to Harmony Lake about two years ago when she married a local.
April, Cardinal, and I walk to the side of the house.
“No wonder you escaped, Cardinal, the gate is open,” I say when we round the corner.
I approach the ajar gate and pause before pushing it open so April and Cardinal can get into the yard where the side door is located.
A knot forms in my stomach, and I’m overcome with nervous hesitation. The last time I felt this knot, I found a dead body. I convince myself it’s just a flashback, and the odds of a dead body lying on the other side of this gate are slim to none, and slim just left town, as my dad used to say. My heart pounds in my chest, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Heavy shoulders, long arms,” I mutter to myself, too low for April to hear.
Heavy shoulders, long arms is a mantra I learned in a yoga class years ago. It reminds me to release the tension in my neck and shoulders.
I nudge the gate, but something on the other side prevents it from opening. I squeeze into the narrow opening and peek behind the stubborn gate.
Jill Plumb is laying on her back with her head turned to the side. Her eyes and mouth are open; her empty gaze focused toward the overcast sky. Her face is drained of colour. She’s so pale, she almost looks fake. Almost. Her head and shoulders are laying in what looks like a puddle of dirty water. Diluted blood.
“What is it?” April asks. “Is everything OK, Megawatt?”
April likes to come up with punny nicknames for me.
I shake my head. This is the opposite of OK. I squeeze back through the narrow opening, being careful not to change the position of the gate or Jill.
“No,” I reply. “Jill Plumb is blocking the gate. She’s dead.”
Download the rest of Murder & Merino: A Knitorious murder mystery book 3 here.
Also by Reagan Davis
Killer Cables
Murder & Merino
Neigbourhood Swatch: A Knitorious Cozy Mystery Short Story
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About the Author
Reagan Davis doesn’t really exist. She is a pen name for the real author who lives in the suburbs of Toronto with her husband, two kids, and a menagerie of pets. When she’s not planning the perfect murder, she enjoys knitting, reading, eating too much chocolate, and drinking too much Diet Coke. The author is an established knitwear designer who regularly publishes individual patterns and is a contributor to many knitting books and magazines. I’d tell you her real name, but then I’d have to kill you. (Just kidding! Sort of.)
http://www.ReaganDavis.com/
Acknowledgments
This book would not exist without you, the reader. Your love and support of book 1, gave me the encouragement to continue the series.
Shout out to Kim of Kim’s Covers for providing another perfect cover.
Thank you to Chris and Sherry at The Editing Hall for converting periods to commas and vice versa, fixing my dialogue tags, and helping me hide the shame of spelling errors and imperfect grammar.
Eternal love and gratitude to the Husbeast and Kidlets for everything .