by Amy Vansant
Tilly shrugged. “Oh they don’t mess with me. She had a pork shoulder slide off a plate on their way to a potluck once and I caught her rinsing it off under the hose. She’s still scared I’ll tell.”
Darla’s lip curled. “I wonder if I was at that dinner.”
Mariska shrugged. “You have to admit. It would have been a terrible waste to throw it out.”
Darla gaped at her. “You too? Remind me not to eat at your house anymore.”
They followed Tilly inside.
“I was about to have a little limoncello. Want some?” asked Tilly, motioning towards a bottle filled with a cheery yellow liquid.
“What is it?” asked Mariska.
“Try it.” Tilly pulled what looked like two tiny champagne flutes from her cabinet and set them in front of the women.
Tilly poured them both a shot of yellow liquid without waiting for an answer. Mariska took a sip and grimaced. “Oh, it’s alcohol. It’s strong.”
Darla followed suit and finished hers. “It’s strong, but it’s sweet. That’s delicious.”
“It’s vodka, lemons and sugar. I made this batch last week,” explained Tilly as she poured Darla another.
“It is tasty, but too strong for me,” said Mariska, pushing her glass away. Darla took hers and finished it before pulling her new pour closer. “I love it.”
Mariska pursed her lips. “I can see that.”
“So what am I looking for?” asked Tilly. She saw Mariska’s gaze float towards a plate of amaretti cookies covered with plastic wrap and pushed the dish towards her.
Mariska grinned and helped herself. “This is more my speed.”
Darla slid a cookie from beneath the plastic wrap for herself. “Someone left boxes with puppies inside of them on people’s doorsteps last night. Charlotte found five of them but there should be six so we think someone still has one.”
“Any particular part of the neighborhood?”
“One went to Alice—”
Tilly’s eyes popped wide. “Alice? But didn’t she—”
“Dead,” confirmed Mariska, licking crumbs from her lips. “But the puppy was there with her when they found her.”
Darla finished her limoncello shot and returned to rattling off the puppy receivers as Tilly poured her another. “Althea, Katherine—”
“Fat Katherine or Balding Katherine?” asked Tilly.
“Balding. Gladys Sorenson and Janice Rocco.”
Tilly seemed to let the information settle. “They’re all over in the newer section. I’ll look there. Be right back. Help yourselves.”
Tilly strode on her bandy legs to the back of the house and Darla reached for the bottle of limoncello.
“You’d better watch yourself,” said Mariska, sliding out another cookie.
“I can’t help it. It’s like I’m addicted to it. It burns but it’s so sweet and good.”
“I’ll be driving you to AA meetings,” muttered Mariska.
“Well, you ease up on the cookies or I’ll be driving you to fat camp.”
Mariska giggled.
Darla took another cookie and tried to dunk it into her limoncello. She broke in half and it crumbled across the countertop.
“Shoot.”
She swept the crumbs into a pile and then leaned over to press her tongue against them.
“You’re licking the counter?” said Mariska.
“Crumbs,” mumbled Darla before taking the smaller half of her broken cookie to dip it in her tiny glass. “Ooh, that’s good.” She dunked the other half and handed it to Mariska. “Try it.”
“You’re making a mess,” said Mariska, but she opened her mouth and Darla popped the cookie inside.
Mariska nodded as she chewed. “Not bad. Less burny that way.”
Darla glanced down the hall. “She’ll probably be a while.”
She slid off the stool and moved to Tilly’s glass cabinets to retrieve a teacup saucer. Bringing it back to her spot, she filled it with limoncello and sat two cookies in the sauce.
“You’re soaking them? Is that how you’re supposed to eat them?” asked Mariska.
Darla nodded. “It should be.”
Mariska helped herself to one and Darla finished another glass of yellow sunshine.
Tilly returned with a printout in her hand and stopped to stare at the saucer.
“I never thought to do that.”
“It’s good, try it.” Darla thrust half a cookie towards her, her opposite hand cupped beneath it to catch the dripping limoncello.
Tilly ate it and nodded. “Not bad.”
Darla licked her palm. “I’m a genius.”
“Here’s your suspect.” Tilly put the printout on the counter. The black and white image was muddy, but clear enough to know something was very wrong.
The person in the video wore a hoody and jeans, but they had the face of a cartoon poodle.
“Is that a mask?” asked Mariska.
“I certainly hope so,” said Tilly, pouring herself a glass.
Darla released a sign. “Whew. Good. For a second I thought I was going to have to slow down on the limoncello.” Darla pushed her glass towards Tilly. “I’ll take another.”
Chapter Eleven
Charlotte arrived at the vet’s office just before closing. The receptionist was nowhere to be found, but a moment later Dr. Powers poked her head out from the back.
“Ah, it’s you. Just a second.”
She retreated inside and appeared a minute later with a very familiar puppy in her arms.
“This look like your man?” she asked, holding up the dog.
Charlotte grinned. She couldn’t help but smile as the puppy struggled to get to her.
“There you are,” she said as the doctor handed him to her. “Who brought him in?”
“Hannah, my receptionist, said it was an older lady.”
Charlotte chuckled. “That really narrows it down around here.”
“Hannah hadn’t seen her before. She checked in with the name Smith.”
“That’s not promising. Or creative.”
“She said the woman was on the phone one minute and the next she was gone. Hannah assumed she’d changed her mind and left, but then noticed the puppy wandering around the waiting area.”
“What time was this?”
Dr. Powers squinted as if that helped her see the answer to Charlotte’s question. “I want to say around two-thirty? Not long before I called you. I was in with a patient but Hannah filled me in when I was finished.”
Charlotte nuzzled the pup. “Well, I appreciate it. I’m sure this little guy is looking forward to being reunited with his brothers and sisters.”
“Someone stole them?”
Charlotte nodded. “And then dispersed them around Pineapple Port.”
Dr. Powers removed her long, white lab coat. “People are weird. I gave him a look over. He seems perfectly healthy.”
“Great. I really appreciate it. What do I owe you?”
Dr. Powers waved her away. “Don’t worry about it. If you need anything else let me know.”
Charlotte thanked her again and headed for her car. Inside, she started the old Volvo to get the air conditioner running and called Frank.
“It’s official. I have the sixth puppy,” she said when he answered.
He didn’t seem to want to talk about the dog.
“Why is my wife drunk?”
“What?”
She heard Darla’s voice somewhere in the background. “I’m not drunk, I’m happy!”
Frank sighed. “Nevermind. Got a suspect?”
“Not exactly. Dr. Powers said an older lady brought the puppy in, took a phone call, and then disappeared, leaving it behind in the waiting room.”
“Took a call? You think someone warned her we had the other dogs?”
“That was my thought. Though if it was one of the other Pineapple Port ladies who warned her, wouldn’t she have absconded with the dog? Not left it behind?”
Frank began to speak, only to be drowned out by Darla’s voice. It sounded as if she had her face pressed against his cheek. “Let me talk to her. Let me talk to her. Come on, come on, come on…”
“Hold on, I’m getting the idea Darla wants to talk to you. Good luck.”
“Hi Charlotte,” said Darla, her Tennessee accent four times thicker than normal. The word hi sounded as if it had fifteen syllables in it.
“Hi Darla. What happened to you? You sound like you ate Dolly Parton and washed her down with a bottle of Jack.”
“Limoncello happened to me. It’s delicioush. Have you had it?”
“I think so. I think Tilly makes it sometimes...”
“Yesh! That’s exactly what I wanted to tell you.”
“That Tilly made limoncello?”
“No, she gave me a picture of the puppy person.”
“Who?”
“The person passing out puppies. Peck of pickled peppers. She had it on her cameras.”
“Oh, can you see who it is?”
“No. He’s wearing a doggy mask.” Darla began to giggle. “At least we hope he’s wearing a dog mask. That’s what we said. Because if he really looks like that—”
“I get it. But you said he. You can tell it’s a man?”
Darla fell silent.
“Darla?”
“Huh? What were we talking about?’
“You can tell the person in the video is a man?”
“Oh, right. No, now that you mention it. I assumed it was but it doesn’t have to be.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to Tilly. Thank you.”
“We didn’t find the puppy, though...”
“I did. It’s okay.”
“Oh. That’s good. We mebbe spent too long a spell at Tilly’s.”
“Got it. No problem.”
Frank’s voice returned. “I’m looking at the picture Tilly printed out for them now. It’s a little blurry. Can’t tell much, but I think it’s a woman. You’d probably tell better from the original.”
“I’ll check in with Tilly.”
Frank grunted. “Fine. I’ll be here feeding coffee to my wife. Tell her thanks for this mess.”
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte called Tilly next, and once they finally stopped laughing about Darla, Tilly let her know the way the figure in the poodle mask moved on the video told her it was a woman. Average height and not terribly buxom, but Tilly felt sure it wasn’t a man.
“I went in to check the tapes and by the time I came back, half the limoncello was gone. I’ll have to make another batch,” added Tilly, chuckling.
“That stuff is like high-test candy. You should have warned them.”
“I didn’t know Darla would go bonkers on it.”
“Can you tell Poodle-Face’s age?”
“She’s moving pretty fluidly. I wouldn’t say old.”
“Can you track her? See where else she went? Maybe catch a glimpse of her car?”
“Darla gave me the list of people who got dogs, and I have her near several of those houses, but I only have a shot of her on the doorstep of Katherine’s. Can’t narrow it down beyond that. My cameras aren’t pointed at individual doors and there isn’t any car activity around that time. I think she might have parked somewhere outside the neighborhood.”
“Okay. I have the sixth puppy, but the description of the person who brought it into the vet was an older woman.”
Tilly snorted. “That narrows it down.”
“That’s exactly what I said. Well, thank you. I might swing by and check out those videos if you can keep them handy.”
“Will do. Don’t tell Darla I’m making more limoncello.”
“I won’t. Frank would kill me.”
Tilly continued laughing as she hung up the phone.
Before Charlotte could pull from the veterinarian’s parking lot, her phone rang. It was Declan, calling from the Hock o’ Bell.
“Hello, handsome,” she answered.
“I hope you knew it was me calling.”
“No. I just always answer like that. What’s up?”
“That girl you were telling me about who lives with the stollen lady who died. Crystal, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because she just drove up with a whole truckload of furniture. Her and some guy.”
“I’m not surprised. She seems to be trying to expunge Alice from her life. But why did you say guy like you were unsure?”
“Oh I’m sure. They’re getting the stuff from the back of what I’m guessing is his pickup truck now so I only have a second, but this boyfriend of hers looks like bad news.”
“I’m going to swing by. I need to talk to her anyway.”
“If you want. But don’t start anything with this guy or I’m going to have to get all black-ops on his hiney.”
Charlotte giggled. “On his hiney. You’re such a thug. See you in a sec.”
Tilly would have to wait. Charlotte drove the three minutes to the Hock o’Bell in time to see the man Declan had been describing heft a chair from the back of a black Ford truck perched on enormous tires. Charlotte imagined he needed a ladder to climb into the thing.
She could see what Declan had meant about Crystal’s friend. He was reedy, with stringy brown hair hanging past his shoulders and a spotty collection of fuzz around his lip and chin that made it look as though he and his razor weren’t on speaking terms. Something about his pallor and the circles beneath his eyes implied his health wasn’t top notch either. He wore a loose tank top with sagging arm holes that hung open to the bottom seam, which held the whole ensemble together with little more than a prayer.
Charlotte scooped up the puppy and hurried past the truck to enter the pawn shop. Declan stood beside a bed talking to Crystal, who didn’t seem happy with the conversation.
“I gave you the numbers before you unloaded,” said Declan.
“I know, but now that I’m looking at it, I think it’s worth more.” Crystal glanced at Charlotte and blanched.
Charlotte nodded. She recognizes me from that day with Frank.
“You’re the cop.” Crystal’s gaze darted to the truck where her friend had finally wrestled a padded chair to the ground.
Charlotte chose not to correct her. Crystal turned her attention back to Declan.
“Two hundred’s fine.”
“Okay.” Declan moved to the door to hold it open for Scruffy McNoShirt. He took the opposite side of the chair and helped him get it through the door. When it had been placed on its feet again, the man wiped his sweaty brow with the bottom of his t-shirt, flashing his skinny waist to the world.
“You tell him we want more for that bed?” he asked Crystal.
“I, yes, but, Mark—”
Skinny Mark cut her short to address Declan. “It’s worth more, man, come on. You know it.”
Mark’s tone sounded threatening. Charlotte glanced around for a safe place to put the puppy, just in case the situation grew more heated. Declan could certainly handle himself, but she wasn’t going to stand around holding a pocket-dog while someone tried to pummel her boyfriend.
Declan held out his hands. “I was just telling Crystal. I gave you my best quote before you unloaded. I do that on purpose to avoid situations like this.”
Mark began to rub his arms, becoming fidgety in a way that made Charlotte uncomfortable. He looked more than just agitated, and she suspected any money they received for the furniture would be spent on his addiction. He looked as if he needed something to calm down.
“Dude. No way. I thought about it and—”
“Mark, this lady works with the police.” Crystal blurted the sentence, her voice strained.
Mark’s gaze traveled from Charlotte’s eyes to her toes and back again before he sniffed and turned away.
He lifted his arm in the air and let it fall back to his side.
“Whatever, man. Do what you gotta do.”
Mark left the store to the sound of Declan’s tin
kling store bell.
Crystal watched him go and then returned her attention to Declan. “There’s a lamp too. Two seconds.”
She ran outside and caught Mark at the back of the truck as he was hefting the tailgate closed. They argued, though through the glass Charlotte couldn’t hear what about. After a moment, Mark dropped the tailgate again, jumped in the back and grabbed a lamp. He hopped down and handed it to Crystal, thrusting it out hard so she had to step back to avoid being pushed over.
Charlotte looked at Declan. “Seems like a nice guy.”
Declan nodded, his eyes never leaving Mark. “Real prince.”
Crystal ran back to the store clutching the lamp against her chest. Her eyes were glazed with tears.
“This too,” she said, handing it to Declan.
Declan took the lamp and set it on a nearby dresser before heading to his cash register. He opened it to retrieve several bills, which he handed to Crystal.
She moved to take them but he held on to the money, forcing her to look at him.
“You can do better,” he said.
Crystal snatched the money from his hand. Charlotte could see her expression twist with what appeared to be anger. She told Declan to go make love to himself and stormed out of the store.
Charlotte and Declan watched as she climbed into Mark’s truck and he roared from the parking lot with a squealing of tires.
“Wow,” said Charlotte.
“You know that money is going right up his nose or in his arm.”
“And hers.”
Declan shrugged. “Maybe. Though there’s no evidence on her. I spotted the track marks on his arm the second he walked into the store. He’s been at it a while.”
Charlotte’s phone rang. It was Frank.
“Oh boy. He’s probably calling to give me an update on Darla. She got into Tilly’s limoncello stash.”
Grateful for the distraction from the depressing drama they’d just witnessed, she answered.
“Hello?”
“I thought you’d like to know I just heard back on those stollen loaves.”
“Yes?”
“They all had almond in them.”
Charlotte felt the blood drain from her cheeks.
That probably meant Mariska had baked the batch that ultimately killed Alice.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”