“Let me know what I can do to help,” Suzanna said.
We all split up and went in separate directions through the fairgrounds. You’d think it would have been easy to locate a bunch of dogs, but there were so many tourists packed in and around all the different booths that all we heard from time to time was some distant barking and yelling. Every time we thought we had a bead on a cocker, we hit a dead end: just crowds of happy festival-goers enjoying the scents and flavors of lavender. I was getting pretty worried. It was clear that Jillian was willing to do almost anything to punish the dogs she perceived were her enemies.
After about fifteen minutes of fruitless searching, Pepe said, “This is reminding me muy much of a snipe hunt.”
Good grief, I thought, maybe the cockers had left the fairgrounds, or maybe someone had found them and taken them to the dog area.
“Let’s see if they’re in the dog area,” I said to Pepe. We bumped into Felix and Fuzzy on our way over there.
“Anything?” Felix asked me.
“Nada,” said Pepe.
“Nothing,” I told Felix. “We’re going to see if anyone turned them in.” As we headed toward the dog-sitting area, we had to pass the amphitheater. When we first arrived, a band had been playing some cowboy ballads. But now a podium was set up in the center of the stage, and a man bent over the microphone prepared to make an announcement.
“And now it is my great honor to introduce Judge Julian Valentine,” said the voice. “As we all know, he has been instrumental in organizing our lavender festival for years, and he is currently running for reelection as Clallam County’s Judge of the Superior Court. Let’s give him a big hand!”
The people sitting in plastic chairs and sprawled on picnic blankets on the grass in front of the stage responded with a light spattering of applause.
Judge Valentine was wearing a white linen suit and a red, white, and blue striped tie. He nodded, acknowledging the applause with a faint smile on his lips. He looked like a movie star. And that impression was enhanced by the inclusion of a bodyguard, a heavyset man in a gray T-shirt and mirror sunglasses, who stood with his arms crossed in back of the stage, scanning the crowd. I noticed he had a bandage wrapped around one wrist.
“I’m happy to say,” the judge announced, “that this is the most successful festival in the history of Sequim. This festival, which was conceived as a way to celebrate our reputation as one of the premier lavender-growing regions in the country, has become another source of pride and income for our community—”
“Blah! Blah! Blah!” said Pepe. “A typical political speech. More dog bones for everyone!”
I had to agree, but as the judge droned on about jobs created and plans for future expansion, things got more interesting. The golden cocker, Queen Mary, appeared to the right and ran through the crowds on the grass, zigzagging back and forth, with Jillian in hot pursuit. And in her hand, she carried a butcher knife. She looked completely crazy. People began screaming and scrambling to their feet, moving off to the side.
Queen Mary scurried toward the stage, perhaps hoping it would be safe, but Jillian was close behind, swinging at her with the wicked-looking knife.
The golden dog scrambled up the stairs to the stage, and Julian bent down and scooped her up, holding her close against his chest. Jillian followed.
“Stop!” he said, holding out his hand. It was a dramatic picture, as Jillian—her red hair flying, her mouth mumbling threats, and her arm upraised with the sun glinting off the edge of the knife—confronted her brother.
“I will not allow you to harm this innocent animal!” said Julian.
Everybody stood frozen in horror—everyone except Pepe and Fuzzy. They took one look at each other and headed for the stage. They leaped onto the platform just as Jillian took a swipe at the dog in her brother’s arms.
The judge took a defensive step back, and she missed and raised the knife for another try. Too late: Pepe and Fuzzy chomped onto the back of her ankles, one on each side. She gave a shriek and staggered forward. At the same time, the bodyguard grabbed her arm and wrestled the knife free. It fell to the stage with a thud.
The crowd erupted in applause. Felix and I rushed onto the platform and picked up our dogs. We gazed out at the applauding crowd and saw Jimmy G standing in the back of the crowd, holding the black cocker spaniel. Kevin was there, too, holding the silvery-colored Henry, with Lionel beside him. And Clara was next to him, with Jay by her side, cradling Victoria. They couldn’t applaud, with their arms full of dogs, but their happy smiles said it all.
Chapter 51
A month later we were all back in Port Townsend for the memorial for Barrett Boswell. Felix and I drove up with Pepe and Fuzzy. I still wasn’t talking to Jimmy G and didn’t even know if he was going. As far as I was concerned, we could have solved the case and protected the dogs much sooner if he hadn’t gotten in the way. I didn’t know if I could ever trust him again. I also didn’t know what I would do for a job if I stopped working for him.
Lionel and Kevin had opened up Boswell’s house for the occasion. Kevin was already working his magic with the decorations. The heavy Victorian furniture was still in place, but all the clutter was gone. The beautiful wood pieces gleamed, and the sun shone through the lace-covered windows, illuminating the gorgeous Aubusson carpet on the floor of the living room.
Kevin saw me admiring it. “It’s the real thing!” he said.
“Nice!” I replied, knowing that carpets like that were worth a small fortune.
“And the best news is that we get to keep it! Julian has dropped the suit now that he’s decided to adopt a dog and collect his share of the fortune that way.”
“Julian adopted a dog?”
“Yes, the one that Jillian was going to kill,” Kevin said. “I think her name is Queen Mary. It seems he fell in love with her after saving her life.” He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I think it really helps his image. You should see the old ladies in Sequim cooing over him whenever he takes her out with him. He’s a shoo-in to win the election.”
Lionel came into the room, bearing a silver plate of stuffed mushrooms.
“Bacon!” said Pepe.
“Is that bacon?” I asked, staring at the fragrant morsels.
“Of course,” said Lionel. I picked one up and held it out to Pepe. He gathered it up in his little teeth and took it over to a corner to eat. Despite his greedy nature, he is a fastidious eater and likes to take his time with his food.
“I thought you ate light! Egg whites and vegetables and all that.”
“We’re still eating light at the Floral Fantasy,” Lionel said, “but we decided on an entirely different feel for Boswell Abbey. We’re going for an elegant, decadent period feel. Cream sauces. Beef roasts. Yorkshire pudding. Crumpets with butter.” He beamed. “It’s such a pleasure to get to create an entirely new cuisine.”
The big Maine coon cat strolled into the room and went walking up to Pepe. Pepe stood his ground but began to shiver.
“I see that Precious seems to be adapting to life without Boswell,” I said.
Kevin sneezed. “I forgot to take my allergy pills,” he said, giving Lionel a wry look. He turned to me. “I spend most of my time at the Floral Fantasy with James.”
“James?”
Kevin smiled. “We adopted one of the cocker spaniels, too.”
“But the pet policy?”
“We changed it. Floral Fantasy now accepts dogs as guests, and Boswell Abbey will welcome guests with cats.”
“Guess we’ll be staying at the Floral Fantasy,” said Felix, drawing me close. I smiled, thinking about how much I had enjoyed the rest of my romantic weekend with Felix after we had rescued the dogs and returned them to Carpenter Manor.
The doorbell rang, and Kevin rushed to answer it. Yolanda and Colleen came in together. They seemed to be best friends now, instead of enemies. Yolanda was wearing a flowery dress, and she looked lovely with her dark hair pinned back in a French braid. This was the fir
st time I had ever seen Colleen out of her overalls, and she dressed up nicely in a jade-green silk blouse, a pair of gray linen slacks, and strappy black sandals. When Yolanda sent the invitations to the memorial, she indicated that, as this was a celebration of Boswell’s life, we should wear colors, not black. I had chosen to wear one of my favorite vintage dresses, which had little pink flowers on a dusty-green background.
Yolanda hugged me. “It’s so good to see you, Geri. We really owe so much to you. You saved the dogs, and you reunited a broken family.”
“Thank you!” I glowed. It was nice to know someone appreciated my efforts. Jimmy G had not called me since that dreadful day at the fairgrounds when I had discovered that he had double-crossed me. And I refused to call him, I was not going anywhere near him unless he apologized for his behavior.
“Where is Phoebe?” Pepe asked, running in circles around Colleen and sniffing her ankles.
Colleen looked at him with amusement. “Turns out that Phoebe is pregnant!”
“What?” I said.
“What?” said Pepe.
“Yes, I noticed she was acting differently and I took her to the vet. Not Hugh, of course—the rumor is he’s closing up shop—but our old vet. Anyway, he said she’s pregnant. Probably four weeks along.” She wagged her finger at Pepe. “Wonder how that happened?”
“I’m going to be a father?” Pepe said, turning around in circles.
“How did that happen?” I asked. I thought Pepe was fixed.
“I suppose the usual way,” Colleen said.
“When are the puppies due?” I asked.
“Another five weeks,” Colleen said. “You’ll have to come up and visit. Maybe you’ll take one? They come with a little fortune of their own.”
“That’s right,” I said. “The trust applies to the issue of the dogs.”
“Sure,” she said, “so the farm is safe for a long time.”
“This is amazing!” I said.
“¡Es una noticia asombrosa!” Pepe said.
Pepe wanted to hang around in hopes of hearing more about his lady love, so I followed Yolanda and Lionel into the kitchen. Every surface was covered with platters, all beautifully arranged. There were little puff pastries, decorated with orange nasturtium flowers. A platter of Camembert cheese and grapes. A beautiful yellow-and-blue pottery bowl full of sliced tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil leaves.
I noticed two large pitchers of lemonade sitting on the sideboard with stalks of lavender floating in them. I shuddered. “Really? Lavender lemonade?”
Lionel looked surprised.
“Oh, I never thought about it that way. Just that it was Boswell’s favorite drink.”
“As long as it had vodka in it,” Yolanda observed wryly. She turned to me. “The police finally let us know that was how the poison was administered. It was in the vodka.”
“But we still don’t know how it got in there?” I asked.
“Actually,” said Yolanda, “they think it was Bickerstaff. They found a bottle of potassium cyanide in his home.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” said Lionel. “Who poisoned Bickerstaff?”
“They think that Bickerstaff put the poison in Boswell’s vodka bottle. But he didn’t know that Boswell spiked his lemonade. So when he was in Boswell’s office, looking for a copy of the trust document, he took a sip of the lemonade.”
“And died of his own poison! A sad story!” said Lionel.
“Then Boswell took the vodka home—the bottle was probably in his briefcase, so the police wouldn’t have found it during their investigation—and poured himself his usual nightcap.”
“What a relief!” I said, because I still had been wondering about Jimmy G and his late-night visit to Boswell.
Yolanda gave me a funny look.
“Knowing the true story,” I said.
As we headed back to the living room, we passed the office. I saw that it was full of flowers. A large photo of Boswell sat on the desk, along with a glass of lemonade.
“I thought he would appreciate it,” said Yolanda, a little smile on her lips.
There was a fancy cat tree beside the desk, made of plush maroon velvet and trimmed with gold fringe. Precious, despite his size, leaped into its higher branches, as light as a bird, and sat there glaring at me with his golden eyes. I don’t think the cat would ever like me, despite the fact that we had helped him figure out how his servant had died.
“Nice cat tree!” I said.
“Yes, Lionel bought it for the cat,” Yolanda said. “He’s crazy about the animal. I’m glad because I couldn’t have a cat with Victoria.”
“So you only have one dog left?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, “and I’m so grateful. My life is so much more flexible now that I don’t have to coordinate all those different caretakers for the dog. I’m thinking of going back home to visit my family.”
The scratchy front doorbell sounded, and we went down the hall to find Clara and Jay entering. They were bringing flowers as well. Yolanda went off to arrange them in a vase.
“So how are things at Carpenter Manor?” I asked.
“So peaceful without all those crazy dogs,” said Clara.
“We’re going to take care of Victoria while Yolanda travels,” Jay said.
“Jay moved in,” said Clara, giving him a big squeeze. Her face turned pink as she looked up at him, but he just gazed down at her with adoration. “He’s still working for Colleen, but we’re talking about using some of the Carpenter Manor property to grow cut flowers to sell to florists. We’ve got to think about the future, when the dogs won’t be here anymore. Of course, we hope to adopt one of Phoebe’s puppies.”
“So how did it all work out with the dogs?” I asked.
“Julian got us all together in a room and negotiated an agreement,” Clara said. “Everyone who takes care of one of the dogs gets an allowance from the trust. It’s being split up rather than all going to one person, but that’s fine with Yolanda. She didn’t want the responsibility for all the dogs, plus she gets to live rent free as long as she stays at Carpenter Manor. Same for Colleen with Lost Lakes Lavender Farm.”
“So if Kevin has James and Yolanda has Victoria and the judge has Queen Mary, then who has Henry?” I asked.
“We’re taking care of him right now,” Clara said. “The judge insists that Jillian should get a chance to adopt one of the dogs if she wants, but no one trusts her.”
“She would be better off with a cat!” said Pepe, who had coming running up to join us.
“What happened to her?” I asked.
“Well, Julian arranged for her to go away to a private clinic for a complete mental evaluation. There wasn’t really any crime she could be charged with—”
“Except for shooting me,” said Jay, “and that was an accident! So I didn’t want to press charges.”
The doorbell rang again, and the judge strolled in, carrying the beautiful golden cocker spaniel under his arm. He certainly seemed happier and more relaxed than I had seen him in the past. He wasn’t even wearing a suit: just a Hawaiian shirt in shades of peach, coral, and gold that matched the fur of his canine companion. His bodyguard was at his side, carrying a pillow for the dog and a gold water bowl.
Pepe glared at the man.
The bodyguard glared back. It had become very obvious, when we saw the bandage wrapped around his wrist, that it was Judge Julian’s bodyguard whom Pepe had bitten. He had broken into the veterinary clinic and Carpenter Manor and Jillian’s home looking for copies of the trust document, under orders from the judge. Pepe wanted to file charges, but I told him that he was not going to be allowed to sign the paperwork.
The house started to fill up with other citizens of Port Townsend. We saw Flynn, the bartender from the Windjammer, who told us that he just had to come to honor the memory of his best customer. We also met many of Boswell’s friends from the various charitable and artistic enterprises he sponsored. It was a congenial group, and i
t was a lovely way to honor Boswell’s memory as people exchanged their favorite stories about him.
Just as the judge had gathered us in the living room to raise our glasses in a toast to “our dear departed friend, Barrett Boswell,” the scratchy front doorbell sounded again. Whoever it was, was about one hour late. Since I was closest to the door, I went to answer it. To my shock, Jimmy G stood on the doorstep, dressed in his usual sport coat and fedora, with a big bunch of Gerbera daisies in his hand.
“Sorry to be late,” he mumbled holding them out. “I just wanted to pay my respects.”
“We have no respect for you!” said Pepe, who had come to the door with me. “Without your so-called help, we would have solved this case on the first day.”
I just turned away without saying anything.
“Oh, come on, Geri,” said my boss, following me into the hallway. I was a bit shocked. I don’t think I ever heard him use my first name before. “I’m sorry. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never hold out on you again.”
“That’s because you won’t have the chance,” said Pepe. “We are going into business for ourselves. Sullivan and Sullivan!”
“I can’t trust you,” I said. “And if I can’t trust you, I can’t work with you. From now on, I’m working with the only partner I can count on.”
“And that partner is me!” said Pepe.
Recipes
FLORAL FANTASY LAVENDER VODKA TONICS
Make lavender-infused simple syrup by combining 1 cup of sugar and 1 cup of water in a pan. Stir over low heat until the sugar is completely dissolved. Sprinkle in 2 to 4 heaping tablespoons of lavender buds (depending on how much you like the flavor of lavender) and stir. Turn off the heat and let the lavender infuse into the simple syrup for 5 to 15 minutes. Strain and store in glass in the refrigerator until ready to use. Lionel loves lavender, so he usually leaves the lavender buds in the simple syrup and doesn’t strain them out until he’s making the drinks.
Combine 1 tablespoon of lavender-infused simple syrup with 2 ounces of vodka and 6 ounces of tonic water. Serve over ice. Adjust proportions of ingredients to your taste. Lionel’s preference: 1 shot of lavender-infused simple syrup, 2 shots of vodka, and a splash of tonic.
Barking Detective 04 - The Chihuahua Always Sniffs Twice Page 21