by Fiona Grace
Audrey nudged his hard shoulder and scrambled to her feet. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
She went inside, to the back room with the animals, avoiding the tarps and other materials that Mason had spread out in the main hallway. Setting her purse down, she got to work, doing her regular check-ups and making sure all the animals were well cared for.
Mason came in and leaned on the door jamb. “So case closed, right? Once you get this place reinspected, you can start rolling again?”
She nodded. “How long do you think it’ll be?”
“Like I said, almost done. You can probably get the inspector in tomorrow night.”
“Oh. Good. I’ll call Dellisanti and tell him to put the clinic on his list,” she mumbled, peering in on the bunnies. Now they were much more awake, squirming against each other and moving about. It wouldn’t be long before they were running all over the place. They were a bundle full of adorableness, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile.
“Hey,” Mason said. “Anything wrong?”
She sighed. “Well. I feel bad. What if he didn’t do it?”
Mason winced. “You’re second-guessing yourself now, Nancy Drew? You seemed pretty sure in the video.”
“Yes, and I do think the guy’s involved up to his ears in some pretty shady stuff. Yes, he wasn’t the inspector’s biggest fan. But I’m not convinced he’d resort to murder.”
Mason hitched a shoulder. “Well, if the police interview him, they’ll figure out whether they got enough evidence to hold him. It’s not your problem.” He pushed away from the wall and began to head for the crawl space. “Though I think I’ve told you that plenty times before, and you keep wanting to make it your problem, for some reason?”
“It is my problem if I wind up causing him all this trouble, and he’s not our man. Not only would I feel terrible, but he’d probably never forgive me.”
“Relax. Let the police take care of it,” he said.
Right. Since when have you ever known me to relax? she thought. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Okay. I’m gonna tidy up back there and head out. You need anything else from me today?”
She shook her head, still only half-listening to him as she cleaned out the nest for the bunnies, giving them fresh bedding. Her mind was whirring with half-baked thoughts, but she couldn’t seem to complete a single one of them.
A moment later, he was there again, though she couldn’t remember him ever leaving. He stretched his arms over his head, touching the door transom, and said, “You coming back to the house in a bit?”
“Um …” She looked up, confused. He’d said it almost as if she belonged there, with him. Almost as if she lived there, instead of just being a guest. It startled her enough to break her from her line of thought. “Oh. Yes. I will. Maybe in an hour?”
“All right. I’m making another one of my momma’s specialties. You like okra?”
She shrugged. “I’ve actually … never had it.”
“You’re in luck. You’ll have it tonight.” He yawned and ran his hands through his mop of hair. “See you.”
It was only when he was gone that she realized she hadn’t responded. That he was being so nice. Making her dinner? Taking care of her crap around the clinic for free? And here she was, treating him like an afterthought. She’d have to do something nice for him soon.
She stooped down to get some new formula for the bunnies. She found the carton and tried to open it, but her fingers were still wet from washing her hands and kept slipping on the lid. Rather than texting Mason back and relying on his muscles yet again, she tried her other hand. Her teeth. A paper towel. Nothing worked.
“Come on, baby. Come on … Gah!” she cried in frustration, banging it on the side of the counter.
When she did that, two things happened. The carton exploded, sending a wave of white formula spewing in all directions, and she knocked her purse from the counter to the floor. Formula dripped over everything—the cabinets, the sanitized utensils, the counters, and, of course, herself. The front of her shirt was drenched.
She let out a sob and looked down. Formula dribbled down the cabinets, landing on the floor, which was, incidentally, where the entire contents of her purse had spilled out.
“Perfect.” There was nothing worse than the spoiled-milk smell of old formula. And now, she and all of her belongings were marinating in it. It wasn’t like she could run the contents of her purse through the washing machine. Sighing, she wadded up paper towels, dropped to her knees, and plucked her dripping wallet out of the mess, shaking it a little. “This is not what I need right now.”
She went through the mess, picking up her housekeys, her lip gloss, her phone. Setting aside the things that could be saved, she spread out some paper towels on the mess, swirling it all together to sop up the spill.
The pack of tissues, a nearly empty sleeve of gum, a few slips of paper were the casualties. As she swept it all together to pick it up and toss it in the trash, she noticed a business card for a woman named Concetta. Oh, right. The veterinary intern. She hadn’t even thought of her since she’d tucked this card away. In another life, it’d have been great to have the extra help, especially from someone who knew what she was doing with animals. But now, any thoughts of that were just impossible.
The clinic was a wreck. A total, non-operating, cash-guzzling mess.
Tucking it away in her wallet, she looked down and noticed another business card among the wreckage. It said, Eton Scarletto, Commercial Developer.
She remembered vaguely the meeting with that slick used-car salesman who’d attacked her, wanting her to be a part of that PetSense thing. Like she could just give everything up and submit to corporate ownership.
Actually …
She fell backward onto her butt, thinking about it. If she’d had a corporate sponsor, she probably wouldn’t have had to worry about paying out of her own pocket to fix up the mold problem. She probably wouldn’t have to scrounge around for supplies, celebrating over a few cans of cat food as a donation. She probably would have money in her wallet, enough to pay for all the repairs she needed for her house.
She had to admit, that sounded nice. An easy way to get back on her feet and start taking this dream of hers in the right direction.
If … if … if …
All she had to do was sell her soul.
Which I’ll never, ever do, she thought, picking up the pile of trash and getting ready to toss it away. I don’t care if it’s hard. I was hired as a small-town vet. That’s how I’m going to stay.
She stood up and held the garbage over the trash can. It had barely fallen from her fingertips when she noticed something on the business card. Eton Scarletto.
E.S.
Where had she seen those initials before? Somewhere very recently. Well, sure, he was probably all over this town, trying to spread his gloomy message of corporate greed. Who knew what other companies he represented? Maybe he’d gone around to dozens of places, offering the opportunity to incorporate.
“Ugh. I hope no one took him up on that offer,” she muttered.
When she turned away from the trash can, it hit her like a lightning bolt.
E.S. Of course. Now she knew where she’d seen that.
She scrambled to her wet phone, picking it up in her hand. Now, it was rather sticky, the surface covered with a filmy white liquid. She wadded the bottom hem of her T-shirt and wiped it down quickly, then opened it to the photographs she’d taken earlier that day of the plans she’d seen in the mayor’s office. She used her thumb and forefinger to zoom in.
Sure enough, on the very corner of the blueprint, were the initials ES.
The blueprints were part of a proposal from Eton Scarletto.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, rising to her feet, the half-formed thoughts finally completing in her head. What if Mayor Fanelli had been telling the truth when he’d said those things were just a proposal, and he hadn’t yet agreed to them? What if Eton Scarletto had
been talking to more businesses, but knew that Cascarelli would never let those changes be made? That figured into the conversation she’d overheard. In fact, as she stood there, staring at the business card, everything seemed to fall into place.
“Well, Audrey, there’s only one way to find out for sure,” she said aloud.
She grabbed her phone and punched in the numbers on the business card.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
About an hour after she made the call, Audrey sat at the reception desk, a bundle of nerves as she opened the day’s mail. As she slipped her finger under the flap of an envelope, pain sliced through it. “Ouch!” she said, watching the blood bubble on the surface of her finger.
Well, it was a lot better than the injury her poor, retired letter opener had been capable of.
She sucked on her finger until the paper cut went away. As she piled up the mail—more bills she wasn’t sure how she was going to pay—a text came in from Mason. On your way home? Food’s hot. BBQ chicken and stewed okra with tomatoes.
She felt a pull in her heart. How adorable was he? She checked the time. She’d said she’d be there by now. Darn.
She started to thumb in a response when the door opened and in walked the used-car salesman himself, Eton Scarletto. He was once again dressed to the nines in an expensive three-piece suit, his abundant dark hair slicked back from his face. He held a shiny leather briefcase. Audrey got the feeling that this was a uniform he never broke from, no matter what the day. But there was something different about him. His eyes were dark-rimmed, and a few shards of that slicked-back hair were falling in his face. Also, he had a tiny stain—mustard, maybe—on his tie.
Guilty conscience? she wondered.
“Mr. Scarletto,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for coming by.”
“Ah, no problem, no problem at all,” he said, looking around the place once again. It was almost as if she could see the dollar signs in his eyes. He let out a grating and awkward guffaw. “I have to admit, I was pretty sure I’d never hear from you in a million years. I thought you’d tossed my business card away.”
“Oh. Of course not,” she said, even though it had seen the bottom of her trash can not long ago. It was only by sheer luck that she’d actually kept it. She motioned him to follow her. “Come on back. We’ll be more comfortable in my office, Mr. Scarletto.”
“Please. Call me Eton,” he said as they went inside her office. She closed the door behind him. He sniffed. “Uh … is something … spoiled?”
“Oh, no,” she said, sitting down at her desk and lacing her hands in front of her, blocking out the terrible milk stain on the front of her shirt. “Just a little unfortunate accident. You know, taking care of animals all day. Please sit.”
He sat down, admiring her décor. Since she hadn’t been here long, her office lacked all the knickknacks and piles of paper that she’d had at her desk in Boston, but he focused in on her Pet of the Year calendar. “Cute pup. I love dachshunds.”
“Hmm,” she said, smiling up at the animal, thinking, Actually, you’re only half-right, that’s a Chiweenie. But whatever! She had business to attend to. “I asked you to come in because I might be interested in your proposal. You seemed to have ideas for this place that involved corporate expansion, and I really wanted to hear them. So, please. Tell me your plans.”
“Yes, indeed,” he said, reaching into his briefcase and fetching an equally spotless leather-bound notebook. He opened it and crossed one leg over the other. “You see, I’m an expat, too, and when I came to this lovely city a little over a year ago, I saw that there was a definite way to capitalize on all the traffic being sent to the city from people taking part in the one-dollar house deal. There’s a market that’s previously been untapped. And these people are hungry, usually wealthy consumers. They need shopping options similar to the places they came from.”
Audrey nodded. But not at the expense of the character of the town. “So your plan is to create places that give people a sense of their home, right here in Mussomeli?”
“Yes, essentially. People from away aren’t used to going from store to store to get the things they need. They don’t have time for that. So my proposal is to create something like PetSense right here in Mussomeli—a one-stop shop for all things pets. And of course, your little clinic here can be the cornerstone of a giant pet paradise. I’m telling you.” He rubbed his thumb together with his other fingers. “You’re talking a gold mine. Obviously it’s a split between you and the parent company, usually ninety-ten, but for all the extra work and headache we’d take off your hands? I think you’ll be pleased.”
He reached into the folder and pulled out a slick brochure, which he passed over to her. It showed a picture of a smiling business owner in an apron, giving the thumbs-up.
“That goes over all the specifics.”
She glanced at it, not really reading it, as at her elbow, her phone buzzed. Another text from Mason. Food’s cold. You get what you get.
Despite the snide, Mason-like comment, she wished he was with her now. And Nick? Where was he? She suppressed a shiver; she’d have to do this alone.
“Looks great,” Audrey said. “So, have you been presenting things like this to businesses in other sectors?”
He crossed his fingers in back of his head and gave her a proud grin. “Yep. All over.”
“And people have been receptive?”
“Most definitely. Restaurants, supermarkets, gas stations, convenience stores, the hardware store. Really, we’re trying to hit just about every sector there is. Bring the modern age to this sleepy little town and get it into the twenty-first century. People are really excited, and all signs are saying this is going to be big. Huge.”
Okay, do you think you can lay the butter on any thicker? “You’ve had a lot of people sign on?”
“Not yet. I’m just beginning, really. But it’s good to get in early. You know, get in on the ground floor, so to speak. I’ve sunk a lot into incentives and advertising and what I’ve done so far is really causing a buzz. I heard the demand to buy one-dollar houses has never been so high. People want in on a hip, fun Mussomeli. I’d like to think that’s my doing.” He grinned broadly.
“That’s wonderful.”
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a paper, unfolding it to reveal a blueprint that looked remarkably similar to the one she’d seen in the mayor’s office. It was a rough drawing of her clinic, but in the plan, it was only a small part of a massive layout that included everything from rows and rows of pet supplies to grooming stations and a pet daycare/hotel.
“Sounds fabulous.” Okay, time to go in for the kill. She asked casually, “And what did the town inspector think of these plans?”
She almost saw his stomach dropping underneath that buttoned-up blazer. “Uh … the town inspector? What do you mean?”
“You’ve spoken with him, right?”
“Of course. I’ve been in close contact with him for months. He knows every phase of my plans.”
“That’s interesting.”
The man leaned forward. “Why is that?”
“Well, he was pretty hard on this place and my house. He refused to pass anything. I’m sure he wouldn’t be so happy about such huge changes happening to the town, would he?”
He coughed. “Actually, it’s good for the town. Clearing away all this old, faulty architecture. The inspector agreed with me that it was a good possibility, and he was going to think about—”
“Yes, but what about the other inspector? Vito Cascarelli?”
“Cascarelli?” He swallowed. There was definite recognition there.
“Yes. You know, the one who—”
“I never met any Cascarelli,” he said, shaking his head. “All I know is Inspector Dellisanti. That’s who I’ve been dealing with. And he’s really interested. He and the mayor—”
“The mayor agreed to a plan like this?”
He nodded. “Well, not yet, but he’s taking it under adv
isement and has shown a lot of interest. Once he gives it the okay, then I fully expect to go forward, signing contracts with people like you so we can get this started.” He smiled. “So can I put you on the ‘interested’ list?”
Audrey listened and nodded, all the while turning his words over in her head. He’d been in close contact with the inspector for months, and yet he never met Cascarelli, who’d only died a few days ago? That made no sense.
It’s him. Of course. He’s the killer.
And now, it was getting dark, shadows were closing in, and it seemed like the walls of the building were, too. Suffocating her.
“Are you all right?” he asked, that smile that had once seemed to be tattooed on suddenly fading.
“Ye-es,” Audrey said unconvincingly, her voice cracking. She scanned her desk and focused on her personal letter opener, wondering if it would be too obvious if she reached out and grabbed it.
He seemed to notice it at the exact same time, and his brows tented. “Are you sure, Dr. Smart?”
A sick feeling overcame her. The person who had killed Vito Cascarelli hadn’t poisoned him or pushed him. He’d done something particularly evil, something unspeakably vile. He’d attacked him with a sharp instrument, plunged it into his throat, letting him bleed out as he watched. She couldn’t help but think it took a special kind of monster to do such a thing, a cold, calculating individual who would stop at nothing to carry out his plans.
A monster like the man sitting in front of her.
And she was all alone with him.
Right then, something G had said suddenly stuck in her mind. If a man commits murder, there is little to stop him from murdering again to conceal the first crime. You could be in danger. Yes?
Her heart thudded in her chest.
Yes. Most definitely.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
The second Audrey picked up her phone, Eton Scarletto leaned forward. “What are you doing?”