by Lane Stone
I didn’t bother to go to the bow. Instead I leaned forward on the bench. “All I can see is fog.” Then there was a break in the mist and the lighthouse magically appeared. The top two-thirds of the Harbor of Refuge Lighthouse was white, the caisson base was black and she sat on a bed of concrete at the south end of the Delaware breakwater. Then I was back to worrying about the dog alone on the lighthouse. “What time did the pilot call you?”
“The call came into the station around 3:30.”
“I hope he’s still there. Sometimes a dog will jump in the water if he’s thirsty enough. Once Abby almost jumped off a bridge.” I lowered my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. “The Harbor of Refuge Lighthouse got a new dock last year. Hopefully water splashed up from between the planks or the grate and he got a taste of the salt water, just enough to make him stay where he is.”
The foghorn blast surprised both of us. Since it was coming from seventy-six feet above us, the volume wasn’t what had startled us, it was the feeling that the sound had come from nowhere. “It does that to me every time!” I laughed. “Get ready, there’ll be two bursts every thirty seconds.”
I darted to the bow and looked through the binoculars again. “Look!” I pointed at the small brown dog pacing on the concrete deck of the lighthouse. “There he is!” I turned back to Chief Turner, but he wasn’t there. “John?”
Voices traveled up to me from the port side of the boat. Chief Turner was talking to the captain who was nodding at whatever he was being told. Then he walked back to me and Captain Sandy Westlake went to speak to a crew member, who had been waiting aft.
“He’s going to go around before we dock,” Chief Turner said, taking the binoculars from me. He raised them to his face and looked out at the light.
“You really think this might be a trap?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I heard you call me John,” was his non-answer.
I rolled my eyes. “See the dog? It’s a Pug.”
“Yeah.”
Captain Sandy pulled back on the throttle and we drifted closer. The tall structure dwarfed us. From a distance, a lighthouse charms, but up close it thrills. The captain revved the engine and the Sun King turned for us to motor the half circle to the other side, up to the breakwater. The binoculars John held moved from the base, to each of the windows, then back again. Finally, he looked at Captain Sandy in the wheelhouse and nodded. We went back to the other side of the lighthouse and the new twenty-foot by twenty-foot dock.
As the crew performed their docking routine, I observed the dog. And he watched me, more curious than wary. His ears and tail, though it was curled, were relaxed. “Hi there,” I said, now that I knew we could be friends. I could see he wore a red collar, but no tags.
John climbed onto the lighthouse dock and I followed. I stopped when I saw the worried expression on his face.
“Let’s hurry,” he said. “No one in law enforcement believes in coincidences.”
“You’re thinking if you weren’t lured here, there must be something going on in Lewes?” I asked.
Chapter 4
The Pug came when I had reached my hand out to him. I had picked him up and after a long, sweet sigh, he slumped against me. Transferring him from the lighthouse dock to the boat was going fine—until he saw Captain Sandy. The tired dog was no longer docile. He snarled at him, adding a low growl just to be sure he was understood. His ears were pinned back to his head and his body was a ball of spring-loaded tension.
“Settle!” I said, not raising my voice but making it sound like the command it was.
Time froze. Until that point I had been only vaguely aware of Chief Turner watching all this. The volume of the growl was lower, but the dog was trembling in my arms. Both told me this dog wasn’t acting aggressively, instead he was fearful. He was afraid but not scared straight. He would defend himself if he had to. I held up a hand to let Chief Turner know everything was under control. “It’s okay,” I whispered to both, the dog and the man.
I needed the dog to trust me enough to take his mind off whatever he was afraid of. Children can stress dogs, but second on the list are big men. A crewmember had thoughtfully brought a bowl of water to us. The dog was exhausted and maybe dehydrated so I moved the water bowl closer to him with my foot as a distraction and a bribe. He took his eyes off the captain and looked down at it for a brief second. The growling stopped. He squirmed which I took as a request for me to put him on the deck, which I did. He stood by my foot, but didn’t allow himself any water.
“Good boy,” I said. He looked at me again then went back to eyeing the boat captain, all the while keeping his guard up. “Can we get underway now?” I asked, mostly to get the man out of the dog’s line of vision.
“Sure thing,” Captain Sandy said and returned to the wheelhouse.
The Pug drank the bowl dry, as I stood near the rail and watched. “Who are you?”
At the sound of my voice, he looked at me with that wistful and vulnerable look Pugs’ faces have. I went to the bench and sat. “Come.” The dog joined me and I petted him as a reward for obeying the command.
Neither Chief Turner, now standing at the bow, nor I, spoke. I was thinking about the lack of rabies and registration tags on the dog’s collar. I kept Abby’s identifying jewelry on a key ring. Personally I wouldn’t want constant jangling near my ears and I projected this need for calm onto her. Did the Pug’s owner agree, or was the dog unvaccinated and unregistered? From there I went to wondering if the dog had a microchip we could scan to get him reunited with his family.
The chief was thinking whatever police chiefs think about. Then he turned to face me and said, “You’ll need to come to the station to give a statement on your break-in.”
I thought back to the mess I’d left my staff to clean up. “Oh, no. I have to get back to Buckingham’s.” I took my cell phone out of my pants pocket and held it up. “I’ll text-ify.”
“No such thing.”
“I’m pretty sure it is a thing.”
He shook his head, but couldn’t stop himself from grinning.
I held my phone higher like it was evidence. Then it rang. I casually answered it, trying to cover up how it had startled me.
“Sue?” It was Shelby and she was whispering.
“I can hardly hear you.”
“I came to your house to take Abby out for her walk and bring her to Buckingham’s. I’m parked in your next-door neighbor’s driveway. You know, the people who are never here.”
“Why aren’t you parked in my driveway?” I asked.
“That car—you know, the worst getaway car, ever—it’s in your driveway.”
The stunned look on my face brought Chief Turner to my side. Mystery dog or no mystery dog by my foot. “That car from this morning’s robbery is at my house,” I whispered. Actually, it was more like a stage whisper because anything less on the open water is audible only to dogs.
“Is there anyone in it?” he asked, as he pulled his own phone out of his jacket pocket.
“Shelby, I’ll put you on speaker.”
“I don’t see anyone. Sue, I’m worried about Abby. If he’s broken into your house, she’s being held hostage.”
John looked straight up at the sky and then shook his head before speaking again. “Tell Shelby to get away from there,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ll send officers.” Then he told them to go to my address, which he knew. By heart. I’d have to ask him about that later.
“Shelby, did you hear what he said about leaving?” I asked.
“You’re breaking up.” Knowing what it means when I tell someone that, I took her off speaker.
“You there?” I asked.
“Yeah. Sue, don’t worry about Abby. Bernice and I are going around back.”
“Be careful!” I wanted her to wait for the police, though I probably would have done jus
t as she had. And let’s face it, if you were going into a possibly dangerous situation you could do worse than have a hundred-pound dog for a bodyguard.
That got a look from John and I twisted away from him. I heard Shelby say, “Let’s go, girl.” Next I heard her car door open and close. I heard Bernice’s heavy panting. They were on the move.
In another minute Shelby said, “There’s no one on the screened-in porch. I’m going to look in the window.”
“Ieeee,” Shelby screamed. Bernice barked twice, loud but she almost sounded playful.
“What happened?” I yelled.
“I’m okay. Abby jumped up at the window and scared me. I’m looking in.” I waited and imagined her scanning my family room. “I don’t see anyone and Abby looks fine. Wait, what’s that noise?” Then she said, “That car just started.”
“Shelby, what’s going on?” No answer. “Shelby?” I became aware of something near, almost touching, my shoulder.
“She didn’t get the hell out of there like I said, did she?” Chief Turner demanded.
I shook my head, and brought him up-to-date. I put the call back on speaker as a peace offering, though I wasn’t sure it was seen as such, what with certain people not knowing how to express gratitude. Then I heard the sound of a siren over the phone.
“Sue?” It was Shelby.
“I’m here,” I said, relief flooding through me that she was okay.
“The car’s gone.”
“That’s great!”
“Not really,” Shelby said. “There’s a body in front of your garage door.”
John and I looked at one another.
“We’re on our way,” John said.
I verified that she had heard him. My phone beeped that I had a new text, and I swiped the screen to read it. I read it aloud because I wanted both Chief Turner and Shelby to hear the latest. “This is from Rick Ziegler. He says he can’t supply our raw dog food until this afternoon. Someone broke in at Raw-k & Roll and…well, they either burgled or robbed him. Either way, his stuff’s gone.”
“Not my jurisdiction,” Chief Turner said.
“His dog food costs even more than mine since it’s raw food, handmade with locally sourced, organic ingredients,” I said.
“Still not my jurisdiction.”
“Okay, but it adds to those coincidences you said law enforcement officers don’t like.” My phone made a different sound and I looked at the screen. Lady Anthea Fitzwalter was calling. I said goodbye to Shelby, then answered the new call.
Lady Anthea was talking before I even said hello. “Sue, I need to tell you something. I apologize and have to say that I don’t know how this came about.”
She hesitated and I jumped in before she could say any more—before she could add another complication to my perfectly ordered life. “Shelby just found a dead body.”
“I’m on my way! Don’t start without me!”
Chapter 5
“I know him,” I said. I was kneeling by my garage door, studying the elderly man lying dead on my driveway.
Chief Turner had made a zone of calm and privacy for me to view the lifeless form. Turner’s body language got more done than the average person’s. Magazine articles said crossed arms meant he or she liked or didn’t like you, or whatever it was the studies by experts had decided. John Turner’s body language could calm people down, make them talk, or that morning in front of my house, clear a space.
The man was crumpled on his side with a bloody gash on his head, left ear, and neck. The arm under his body reached above his head.
“What’s his name?” he asked.
“Beats me,” I said.
“You said you knew him.”
“Everybody knows him. He works at Mozart’s, the German deli on Second Street.”
“Let me see,” Shelby said, scooting in. “You’re right!”
I looked up into the sunlight at Chief Turner, who was checking his watch. I wanted to ask him if he had a bus to catch. A pill to take? Was the dead man keeping him from something more important? Was he that unfeeling?
“He sings opera while he waits on customers,” I explained. “How could you live here all these months and not know him?” There was more. I knew something else about him, but that information was determined to stay out of reach. Did I know his family? Had he brought his dog to Buckingham’s? Maybe he’d been at the Pet Parent Appreciation Gala? I closed my eyes and tried to imagine him somewhere other than the deli. Nope, I only knew him from where he worked. I opened my eyes and looked for a clue. He wore a faded plaid shirt, with long sleeves that ended at an unbuttoned cuff and a skinny wrist. “No wallet?” I asked.
Chief Turner gave an exasperated shake of his head. He jerked his thumb to the other officers on the scene. “They told me he had nothing at all in his pockets.”
“What’s this?” I said. Then I figured it out. “There’s blood on his fingers.”
John knelt down next to me for a closer look but didn’t say anything. I got up and moved away, to give them room to work. I walked to the middle of my driveway, making my way through waiting police officers and other official-looking types. Shelby followed me. Bernice was close by her side, now on a leash and with zero slack. The dog was enthralled with the yellow crime scene tape that fluttered in the breeze. It had been strung on orange cones lined up on the street the length of my front yard, and then up the side property lines.
“Dana came in and she’s babysitting the mystery dog until one of us gets back,” Shelby said.
We planned to take the Pug to our local vet, Lewes 24-hour Pet Care, to be scanned for a chip. In the meantime, he was quarantined, since we didn’t know his vaccination status.
“She doesn’t have classes today?” I asked. Dana, a senior at Cape Henlopen High, was one of Buckingham’s afternoon part-timers.
“She saw the police cars on her way to school and came in. When Mason told her we had another dead body, there was no way she was leaving. I told her we would be back soon, so she wouldn’t miss too much school.” Shelby hesitated. “You know she still says she wants to be a detective after we asked her to help us with that internet research last year.”
I leaned over and gave Bernice a scratch under her chin. Her tricolor coat was thick and slightly wavy. She was sitting like such a good girl. I was waiting for John to say something about the dog contaminating the crime scene, but he hadn’t. Instead he looked around and with a slight nod gave permission for the body to be covered, in preparation for being moved, then walked up to us. “Shelby, let’s go over this again. When you arrived the car we believe was involved in this morning’s robbery at the Pet Place was parked in the driveway, correct?”
“Pet Palace,” I interjected.
“Yes, that’s right,” Shelby said.
“You didn’t see anyone inside the vehicle?”
“No, I didn’t.”
He looked at the street, then to the garage door, then back to Shelby. “If the body had been lying there when the car was parked here, would you have been able to see it?”
She motioned to my neighbor’s house. “We went around the other side of that house to get to the backyard, so I wouldn’t have seen what was in front of the car.” She hesitated, then said, “I don’t know, I mean, it’s a tiny car, so maybe I could have if I had looked down.”
The clanking of metal made all three of us look back at the deceased man. The stretcher was raised to waist height of the three people who would take him away. “Where are they taking him?” I asked. All of a sudden it was important to me. More important than the break-in, or the dog on the lighthouse, or the robbery at Raw-k & Roll. I knew that something would be missing when he was gone. For a second there I thought I was going to remember what else I knew about the guy but no such luck. “Has his family been told what happened?”
Chief Turner looked
at his watch again. “No, for now he’s a John Doe. Since you told me where he works I’ll wait for the deli to open and go over there.”
“Oh,” I said, glad I hadn’t given him grief about checking the time.
He rubbed the back of his hand back and forth across his forehead. “We know there were two people here.”
“You’re just now ruling out suicide?” I asked.
“I’ll ignore that,” Chief Turner said. “I was about to say that the car you described was too small for two people to be hiding in it without their heads being seen. Somebody drove the car away. But then how did the second person get here?”
“Where were they when Shelby and Bernice were here?” I asked myself.
Chief Turner motioned for a man and woman waiting in the street by the crime scene van to join us. “Fred, dust for fingerprints on all the doors. Marie, look around all sides of the house for tamped-down grass.” He pointed at the far side of my house. “Start over there.”
The gurney was pushed down the driveway on the way to the ambulance.
“You think he and who ever drove the car away came together?” I asked. “And then, what? Got in an argument? One killed the other?” I pulled my phone out of my pants pocket and began scrolling through the photos.
“That’s a possible scenario. Wait, we’re not starting the text-ifying thing again, are we?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m checking the photographs I took this morning.”
“You took photographs of the car used in a murder and a burglary—”
“Robbery,” I corrected him.
“And you’re just now showing them to me?”
I held my phone up for him to see. “Look, just one driver.” I heard a noise coming from my living room window. It was Abby scratching to let me know she hadn’t been taken out for her walk. I went up the driveway to the garage door.
“Yes, someone drove the car away,” Chief Turner said. “Would you send me those photographs? Where are you going?”
“Inside. This is crazy. Why would he come to my house? And you don’t even know if he was killed here, do you?”