The Dog Who Knew Too Much

by Krista Davis

  A rustic stone fireplace dominated the room. The ceiling was vaulted with exposed mahogany beams. The oversize sofa was a plush brown and looked as though it had gotten a lot of use. A prim Louis XV chair had been upholstered with a soft floral fabric. The room appeared to be a comfortable mishmash of things Diane had loved. A sliding glass door led to the backyard, and a sturdy blue armchair stood below the window with the torn screen.

  “What did you find peculiar?” I asked.

  “I’m no expert on any of this, of course. But it’s my understanding that fentanyl works very fast. So if someone, presumably Howard, poisoned food that she ate, where is the plate?”

  “Have you moved anything around?”

  “Not a thing. I just have trouble imagining someone taking the time to wash the plate and put it away. Maybe they both had plates, and forks, and glasses or mugs. Would Howard take a serving plate or a box from a bakery with him? It wasn’t in her trash.”

  “Maybe the police collected them?”

  “Not according to Dave. They emptied the refrigerator to test the food, but they didn’t find anything with brownie residue. No dirty dishes, boxes, or cutlery!”

  “That’s interesting. I’m not sure what that means. I did think that Howard might have cleaned up in a panic. But maybe it tells us that the killer was someone tidy?”

  “And heartless!”

  That went without saying. I strode over to the torn window screen. It would have been easy for Stella to jump on the chair, paw the screen, and leap through it. If I was right about that, it meant Stella saw the killer remove Diane’s body, but the killer had locked Stella in the house.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Donna.

  “About Stella. If Diane died in this room, then the easiest way to remove her body would have been through the sliding glass door. But how did the killer manage to do that while keeping Stella inside?”

  “But I thought Stella was outside with Diane.”

  “She was with Diane when we found her. But after seeing Stella tear a screen with her paw to rescue Dolly and Tavish, that’s what I suspect happened here.”

  “Stella is very well-behaved.”

  “Even so. If someone was dragging Diane outside, I suspect she might have gotten agitated. If I opened the sliding glass door right now, all the dogs would run outside.” I pointed to an interior door. “Where does that door go?”

  “Into the kitchen.”

  I opened it. “The killer probably coaxed Stella into the kitchen, closed the door, and dragged Diane’s body outside. Then he had to come back inside anyway to lock the sliding glass door. He let Stella back into the family room and left through the front door, which he locked behind him.”

  “And it was Stella who pawed through the screen and jumped out to be with Diane,” said Donna. “I wish I could take Stella. I love that dog.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “I have six cats and a dachshund. It wouldn’t be fair to Stella or to them. Besides, Diane requested that Stella be an only dog.”

  “Too bad. But I can understand that. Would you mind if I stepped outside?”

  “Not at all. I’ll call the dogs into the kitchen.”

  It was a perfect example of what the killer had probably done. When the kitchen door closed, Trixie and I stepped outside onto a concrete patio.

  Diane must have spent a lot of time in her backyard. Plants were beginning to flourish in pots and flower beds. A fence enclosed the patio and part of the yard, no doubt so dogs could run and play. I tried to imagine what had happened that night. The killer must have dragged Diane along the concrete toward the gate that opened to her driveway. It was wide enough to have easily pulled Diane through it. If the murderer had parked there, it would have been possible to drag her onto a golf cart. I gazed around. Diane had had plenty of neighbors, including the Hoovers next door, but if it happened around two or three in the morning, it was unlikely that anyone would have noticed.

  The Hoovers’ driveway ran next to Diane’s with a generous twenty-foot swath of grass between them. Their garage probably helped buffer any sounds coming from Diane’s house. One of them had already taken their garbage to the street to be picked up the next day. The house seemed peaceful and quiet. I presumed they had all gone to work.

  We returned to the family room. I closed the sliding glass door behind us, and Donna let the dogs out of the kitchen.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid it would have been fairly easy. Zelda, who works at the inn, thinks the murderer was banking on the passage of time. He took Diane up on the mountain to dispose of her body, where he thought it wouldn’t be discovered for a long time, if ever. He washed the dishes or took the box that the brownie was in with him and locked the doors. He thought no one would miss her for days. And honestly, if Trixie hadn’t found her body, we wouldn’t know about the fentanyl, or the brownie, or the dish being cleaned up.”

  Donna frowned at me. “But the dish is just conjecture, right?”

  “He had to bring the brownies in something. It must have been someone she knew. Someone who brought her deadly brownies. Someone Diane invited into her home. She probably offered him a cup of tea.”

  Donna had turned ashen, and I realized I had been too graphic. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to distress you even more.”

  “It’s all right. I think you’re correct.”

  “Dave says a killer always leaves something behind at a crime scene. But I don’t see anything. Have you found something that seems out of place?”

  Donna smiled sadly. “I wish I had.”

  Trixie and I took our leave with Donna promising to be on the alert for anything unusual.

  At the end of the driveway, a piece of paper flapped on a trash bag full of shredded paper that the Hoovers had set out. I peered at their house, hoping no one was home to accuse me of going through their trash. As fast as I could, I walked by their garbage and bent to yank that slip of paper off the garbage bag. It was adhered so tightly that it tore a small hole in the plastic. Yikes! I tried to act casual but walked away as fast as I could.

  Thirty-one

  The paper stuck to my hand, too. As we walked, I glanced at it and then heard my name being called.

  I looked up to see Glenda running toward me. I’d been caught. Like a guilty child, I folded what looked like a mailing label from a package and slid it into my pocket.

  “Hi, Glenda.”

  “Holly, I don’t think I ever thanked you properly for bringing Dolly home this morning. It was such a shock. I had almost reached the point of giving up on her and then, ba-boom, there you were with her.”

  “No thanks necessary, Glenda. I was thrilled that Tavish and Dolly were alive and well.”

  Glenda cocked her head. “What were you doing up on the mountain in the middle of the night?”

  For absolutely no good reason, I was alarmed by her question. Since her son, Stan, hung out with Sugar, I wasn’t about to tell her the truth. I fudged. “I was delivering inn leftovers. There are quite a few folks around here who can’t get out.”

  Her smile faded. “Well, you’re just the little angel, aren’t you?”

  She knew I had snatched something from her garbage. I could see it in her expression. Thanking me had been nothing more than an excuse to run after me. I forced a smile. “How’s Dolly doing? She must be so glad to be home.”

  “She has barely left my side.”

  “I’d better get going then. Oma sent me out with a whole list of things to do.”

  “Did she? Take care, Holly.”

  I tried not to walk away too fast. And I resisted the urge to look at the mailing label until I reached town. I stepped into the drugstore and walked to the very back where I would notice if Glenda were following me.

  I pulled the label out of my pocket.

&nb
sp; Initially, I found it boring. Just a mailing label torn off a shipping box. But then I realized that it was addressed to Diane.

  If I hadn’t heard Marlee’s story about Stan Hoover’s porch-pirating activities, I would have assumed that it blew across the lawn and just happened to be stuck to the Hoovers’ trash. But it was more likely that Stan had snatched something off Diane’s doorstep. After all, she was dead. No one would know. Unless . . .

  I checked the shipping date. It had been shipped before Diane’s death, but there was no telling when it had been delivered or what was in the package.

  There was no sign of Glenda, so I dialed Dave’s number as I left the store. When Dave answered his phone, I whispered, “Do you know anything about Stan Hoover and Sugar McLaughlin being on probation?”

  For a long moment, Dave didn’t say anything. “Theft is a long way from murder.”

  “I’m not accusing them of anything . . . yet. So it’s true? They went to prison for being porch pirates?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you never told Oma or me?”

  “Holly, there are a lot of people in Wagtail and everywhere else who have a past. I don’t tell you about them, either. Is there a problem?”

  “I don’t know. I found a shipping label addressed to Diane stuck to one of the Hoovers’ garbage bags. It looks like they were shredding things and maybe this one got stuck on the outside of the bag and no one noticed.”

  “You know, when you tamper with evidence, it’s inadmissible in court.”

  “I didn’t know it would be evidence. It was on their trash bag, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Okay. Don’t say anything to anyone. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  I hung up. What if Diane caught Stan stealing a package from her front door? Would he have murdered her for that? Would he have been afraid she would turn him in and he would have to go back to prison?”

  My head was swirling at the thought when Trixie suddenly raced toward her buddy Pippin, who led his entourage along the sidewalk.

  “Holly!” called Rae Rae. “We’re on our way to lunch at Tequila Mockingbird. Would you like to join us?”

  How convenient. As a matter of fact, I would. This would be a great time to find out about the mysterious Lucy. “Sure!” I felt just a touch guilty about joining them to weasel information out of them, but not sufficiently guilty to turn them down.

  As its name implied, Tequila Mockingbird was a popular nighttime spot, but it also had great food. And if you were lucky enough to get one of the outdoor tables that felt like they were hanging over the edge of the lake, you had one of the best seats in town. It was a gorgeous day to watch sailboats and fishermen. The sun glittered like diamonds on the lake as the water moved.

  Pippin’s star power earned us an outdoor table.

  I ordered three baskets of their thick-cut onion rings for the table, iced tea with a chicken strawberry salad on greens for me, and their Tempting Chicken Tenders for Trixie. After everyone had ordered, the group launched into a lively discussion about a possible replacement for Howard on the show. Although I found little to like about Howard, especially if he had murdered Diane, I felt a twinge of sadness for him. He had only been dead a couple of days, and he was already being replaced as though he never existed.

  The waitress delivered our drinks.

  “Holly, you’ll have to come out to LA and watch us shoot the show one day,” said Camille.

  “I would love that. It’s all so exotic to me.”

  Finch, in his usual I’m-only-vaguely-interested way, asked, “Is it true that Howard murdered Diane?”

  Oof. Why was everyone asking me things I had to skirt around? “That’s the official verdict. I was over at Diane’s house just a little while ago. Donna said she had received a call to that effect.”

  Marlee, still wearing the wig and sunglasses, raised her tea glass in a toast. “Looks like you’re off the hook, Jim! What did the cops want with you?”

  Jim’s relief was visible. His entire body relaxed. “I went to see Diane the day we arrived. Someone must have seen me going into her house and reported it to the cops.”

  Rae Rae sat back in her chair and eyed him. “Did you know Diane?”

  “I didn’t. I had never met her before. But I had heard of her, just like I had heard of you. I went to talk to her about Howard.”

  The waitress brought the onion rings to the table.

  “Howard?” Rae Rae plucked a hot onion ring out of the basket. “Darlin’, why?”

  “He murdered my babysitter.” Jim spoke as though it was a matter of fact.

  “In front of you?” Camille gasped.

  “No. She lived next door. The sweetest girl you can imagine. She walked me in my stroller when I was a baby and was like a big sister to me. When I was five years old, she disappeared.” He paused to bite into an onion ring. “They never found her remains. But I knew who did it.”

  “Because you saw him?” asked Rae Rae.

  He looked ahead as he spoke, not meeting anyone’s gaze. It was as if he was seeing it all again through the eyes of his five-year-old self. “It must have been after six o’clock in the evening, but it was still broad daylight. My mom had just come home from work, and Lucy left. I was standing inside the screen door of our house, watching her walk home, when he pulled up in a blue car. He didn’t get out. She ran over to his car window and spoke with him. She liked him. She laughed and was happy to see him. Then she willingly walked to the passenger side and stepped into the car. I saw his face, clear as could be. I’ll never forget it. He looked straight at me. Besides Howard, I was the last person to see her. The trouble is that when you’re five, no one listens to you.”

  He stopped talking when our lunches were served.

  “That’s horrible. Did the police question you?” asked Marlee.

  “Never. I was five! After a couple of days, when she didn’t come home, her dad asked my mom if she had seen anything. I told him then that a man picked her up in a blue car. But I don’t think he took me very seriously.”

  “And you think that man was Howard?” Finch looked doubtful.

  “Definitely. There’s not a doubt in my mind. He had more hair back then, but I’d have recognized him anywhere. I was always on the lookout for him. And then one day, I happened to catch him on TV being interviewed about a hit show that he starred in. I knew it was him. I knew instantly. He has a fairly distinctive face.”

  “Did you go to the police then?” asked Rae Rae.

  He looked at her. “Even I realized that they wouldn’t take the word of a witness who was five years old at the time. Howard wasn’t easy to approach, either. He wasn’t the kind of guy you run into at the gas station or walking his dog in the park. And I wasn’t in the entertainment business. But once I knew who he was, I researched everything I could find on him. You can learn a lot if you locate the right people. There were rumors of him having strangled a girl overseas, but everything was hushed up. That’s how things were back in the day. If you were a moneymaker, if you drew an audience, then people made your troubles go away. You’d be surprised how many women claimed he attacked them. A lot of them didn’t want to talk about it publicly.”

  “So that’s how you found out about Diane?” I asked.

  “I knew her name but couldn’t locate her until her dogs started winning championships. I went to see her as soon as we arrived in Wagtail. I was so sorry that she died. She was really nice to me. She remembered Lucy being on the news but never made the connection with Howard.”

  Finch was mesmerized by Jim’s tale. “You must have flipped out when you got the call for Pippin to be on the same show as Howard.”

  “You bet! I think all of you wanted the show because of famous Howard Hirschtritt. I was excited to get a call asking if Pippin would be interested in a TV show. The fact that Howard was part of it was
icing on the cake. I knew that job was meant to be. Actually, I may have been the reason he declined to stay with us. Camille and Finch probably remember the meeting we had in LA a couple of weeks ago. He was sitting there, ignoring everyone, so I sat down beside him like he was just anybody. He was checking e-mail on his phone. And as calmly as I could, I said, ‘I knew Lucy Zankowski.’ His fingers stopped moving, like he was in shock.”

  Rae Rae held her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe you did that!”

  “We were surrounded by people. What was he going to do?”

  “I don’t know if I would have had the courage,” I said. “But you were right—he recognized her name.”

  “He whispered, ‘I haven’t heard that name in a long time. How’s she doing?’ I said I was pretty sure he knew how she was. He took a long look at me and asked what I wanted. I told him I wanted to know where she was. He looked me straight in the eyes and laughed when he said, ‘No one will ever find her.’”

  Thirty-two

  “And then he said, ‘You must have been the little kid who was watching at the door.’”

  Even Finch gasped. “That’s like a confession!”

  “It gets better. He pulled a line that sounds like it was out of an old movie script, ‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll never mention this again.’”

  “They ought to take a cadaver dog into his yard and have her sniff around,” said Finch.

  Rae Rae frowned. “Did you think Diane was involved in Lucy’s disappearance?”

  “I had no reason to think that. But both of you knew Howard around that time. I thought she might have heard him mention Lucy. Maybe she saw something that didn’t make sense, or he canceled a date.” Jim finally bit into his burger.

  “What did she say?” asked Rae Rae.

  “She heard a rumor way back when, but the only Lucys she ever knew were a basset hound and a black cat. She was very friendly and nice about it. She told me she knew he had a reputation for being a bad boy. He was good-looking, unbelievably vain, recklessly fun, and very charming. Women chased him all the time. She’d never heard of him being rough or physically abusive with anyone, but there was no telling what he might have done to preserve his reputation.”