Asking Fur Trouble

by Ally Roberts

And I could. It must have been hard enough when she learned about Caroline’s death, and the added worry over the missing dog was something no one would welcome.

  “You’re sure you’re fine with me leaving him with you?” I asked. It felt like something I should say. I had no idea if she wanted Arrow or if she was simply willing to take him out of a sense of obligation. And as much as I didn’t need another dog, the last thing I wanted to do was pawn him off on someone who didn’t want him.

  Amber smiled. “Absolutely. I basically raised him, anyway.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded. “Caroline was very busy with her business,” she explained. “She loved having the dog around but I was usually the one who took him outside for walks or down to the beach.” She chuckled. “That’s probably where he was headed when you found him yesterday. I had a dentist appointment in the morning and wasn’t planning on coming by. He doesn’t take too kindly to being off schedule.”

  I smiled. I hadn’t noticed him chomping at the bit to get outside or to the beach in the time he’d spent with me, but I also recognized that he had Trixie to hang out with so his whole normal routine had been upended anyway.

  “I’m sorry about Caroline,” I said.

  Amber’s eyes moistened and she quickly looked down at her coffee.

  Great. I was two for two with making people cry, all in the span of twenty minutes time.

  “You found her?” she asked, her voice soft.

  “Yes.”

  I hesitated. I didn’t know what else to say. There really wasn’t much else to add. In all honesty, I hadn’t even really looked at Caroline when I saw her on the floor. I’d taken in the scene—a woman splayed out on the floor, unmoving, her body positioned at an unnatural angle—and I’d pivoted out the door and called the police. I didn’t even know what she looked like.

  “Thank you for calling the police,” Amber said. She was looking at me now and even though her eyes were still moist, no tears had fallen. “I wasn’t due in until this morning and well…I would hate to think of her being alone and unattended for that long.”

  Part of me wanted to point out that Caroline wouldn’t have known—because she was dead—but I understood the sentiment behind Amber’s words.

  “Did you know her well?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation in a direction that didn’t involve discussing dead bodies.

  Amber nodded. “We’ve been friends for years.”

  “And you’re her housekeeper?”

  “Yep, I run my own business. Cleaning Crew.” She smiled. “It’s a crew of one.”

  I smiled back.

  “I started it about ten years ago, right around the time Caroline started her quilting business. She was one of my first clients. A friend who wanted to support her friend’s business.”

  “That was nice of her.”

  “That’s how we do things around here,” Amber said. “People help each other out. We’re always looking for ways to give each other a boost, to support other islanders.”

  My mind instantly went to Poppy.

  I didn’t think that was a philosophy the owner of Poppy’s Puppy Palace supported.

  “It sounds like she was a good person,” I murmured.

  “She was,” Amber said. “The best.” She picked at the navy blue placemat in front of her. “She was just about to retire, you know. She was looking forward to starting a new chapter in her life. And then…”

  “Retire?” I thought about Daniel Ford; he didn’t look like he was close to retirement age.

  “She was closing down the business,” Amber explained.

  “Any particular reason why?”

  Amber shrugged. “She was just done, and she knew the divorce would give a decent settlement. She would get the house and alimony, which was enough for her to take some time to think about what she wanted to do next.”

  “So there wasn’t a reason why she was closing up shop?” I wondered if the t-shirt quilt-making business had slowed down, or if she’d suffered some kind of injury or ailment that made her work harder to do.

  She was quiet for a minute. “Lots of reasons,” she finally said. “But part of it probably had to do with her business partner. Ginny.”

  I wanted to ask why but a knock at the door interrupted us. Arrow barely glanced in the direction of the noise, a marked contrast to his reaction at my house.

  Amber went to the door and from my vantage point, I could see who was standing on the porch.

  “Chief Ritter.” Amber sounded as surprised as I felt. “What can I do for you?”

  He tipped his hat. “Amber. I’m sorry, but I’m going to need you to vacate the premises immediately.”

  Her hand went to her chest. “What? Why?”

  He poked his head inside the house and saw me. A frown creased his forehead. “You, too,” he said.

  I got to my feet.

  “What’s going on?” Amber asked.

  The chief cleared his throat. “Well, uh, we need to secure the property.”

  “Secure it?”

  He nodded, but his expression was a little sheepish.

  “Why?” Amber asked.

  He glanced at me and his expression hardened a little. “It turns out this is a crime scene.”

  Amber let out a small gasp. “A crime scene? What do you mean?”

  Chief Ritter’s eyes were locked on me like a laser beam.

  “What do I mean?” he asked. “I mean Caroline Ford was murdered.”

  SEVEN

  Murder.

  The word played on repeat in my head as I walked to Asher’s office. I felt like I was enveloped in a fog, despite the bright sunshine and the cloudless sky.

  Murder.

  The police suspected that Caroline Ford had been murdered.

  Frantically, I thought back to what I’d seen the day before, when I’d found her body. My fifteen-second assessment of the situation had not included any clues that would lead me to suspect murder. Granted, I hadn’t paid too close attention, but I thought I would have noticed visible wounds, pools of blood or glaringly obvious murder weapons.

  So if none of those things were present, why did the police think she had been murdered?

  I trudged along the sidewalk, attempting to smile as a mom pushing a stroller walked past. A redheaded toddler was hanging off to the side, his body twisted as he tried to catch a butterfly flitting by.

  But I didn’t feel like smiling.

  I actually felt a little sick to my stomach.

  Murder.

  And I had been the one to find her.

  The worry and doubt I’d felt earlier came creeping back in, as did the conversations I’d had with Chief Ritter and Detective Simcoe.

  I tried to push those thoughts aside. I had nothing to worry about. All I’d done was find Caroline’s dog and return it home. They wouldn’t find a single shred of evidence to link me to the crime. I knew all of this was true. But the paranoid, anxiety-ridden part of me still worried.

  I had to admit, something else was bothering me, too. Something about the murder.

  It was the first time I could recall that there had been a homicide on Sweetwater Island. I didn’t know if that was just because I hadn’t paid attention to crime as a child or if it was true that this type of crime was rare here. What I remembered from growing up on the island was police showing up at the beach and issuing tickets for alcohol consumption, or people reporting property damage.

  Definitely not murder.

  Another thought occurred to me as I continued walking.

  If Caroline was murdered—and Chief Ritter had basically said she was—then who was responsible for her death? Did she have enemies? More importantly, did she have an enemy who would have hated her enough to actually kill her?

  Every crime show I’d ever watched popped into my head and I was swimming through multiple theories and potential suspects as I crossed the road and headed toward the office attached to Sweetwater Suites. The exercise, of me t
rying to come up with a suspect list, was comical since I didn’t actually know enough people on the island to come up with anything resembling a suspect.

  I was so consumed with those thoughts that at least I didn’t have time to muster up too much nervousness as I pushed open the door leading to Asher’s office. A blast of cool air greeted me, along with the scent of coffee and chocolate chip cookies.

  Asher Ellsworth was parked behind a large, sleek black desk.

  He smiled when I walked in. “Hey,” he said, getting to his feet. “Good to see you.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was twenty minutes to noon, which was far later than I’d intended to arrive.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said.

  “You’re not,” he said. “We said before noon.” He checked his watch, an expensive-looking piece of silver strapped to his wrist. “And it’s before noon.”

  He strolled toward me. “Can I get you a cup of coffee? A cookie, perhaps?”

  I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks.”

  He plucked a cookie off an oval silver tray sitting next to a Keurig coffeemaker. “You sure?” he asked. “They’re from the local bakery. Leah’s a terrific baker. Best chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever had.” He bit into the one he was holding.

  I made pretty good chocolate chip cookies, too.

  But I kept this to myself.

  He motioned to the chair next to his desk. It was a leather armchair, and there was a matching loveseat up along one wall.

  I sat down, taking in the rest of the office. The furnishings were as sleek and modern as his desk, all black leather and black furniture. The walls were painted a creamy white, but the most stunning feature was something Asher couldn’t control, something that was outside of his office.

  The ocean.

  A bank of windows that offered a sweeping vista of the Atlantic sat directly behind his desk. I stared hungrily out the window, finally seeing the ocean after setting out on that quest the other day and getting thwarted by Arrow and everything that had ensued after.

  The waves were calm today, small whitecaps approaching the beach almost leisurely, as if they were in no hurry to crash onto the waiting white sand. A few people were parked on blankets or under beach umbrellas, and a man on a paddleboard was out past the breakers, but otherwise it was empty. I knew early May was the calm before the storm, especially during the week. Within days, the tiny town of Sweetwater Island would be bursting with summer tourists. As a kid, I’d had a love-hate relationship with this time of year.

  I wondered how I would like it as an adult.

  “Duke,” Asher said, bringing me away from the ocean and back into his office.

  I looked to the floor and watched as the black lab lumbered to his feet, away from the plush dog bed he’d been lounging on.

  He walked over to Asher, gave his extended hand a quick lick, and then sat.

  “This is Duke,” Asher said to me.

  I smiled. “He’s a great-looking dog.”

  “And he knows it,” Asher said. He patted the dog’s broad head. “He’s a good dog and he doesn’t get nearly the attention he deserves.”

  The dog glanced adoringly at his master.

  I didn’t blame him.

  Asher Ellsworth looked just as handsome now as he had the day before, when I’d first encountered him outside of Caroline Ford’s home.

  Today, he was dressed in a white polo that accentuated his tanned skin and deep brown eyes. His goatee, that barely visible patch of facial hair, was as impeccably groomed as before, and when he smiled at me, I noticed for the first time how incredibly blinding his smile was.

  I blushed to the tips of my toes when he beamed another one in my direction. The last thing I needed to be doing was assessing the impressive physical attributes of the man who was going to pay me to walk his dog.

  In his eyes, I was an employee. Nothing more.

  So I needed to make sure I acted like one.

  I didn’t know if he sensed I was ready to talk or if he felt an appropriate time had passed, but he decided to get down to business.

  “I hope you’ve had a chance to think about my offer,” he began. “I wanted to be able to chat in person to discuss it and to see if you had any questions.”

  I frowned. “So I’m not here to walk your dog?”

  He chuckled. “Well, you are. But not today. I wanted to make sure we were good on the details before you start.”

  The number he’d mentioned the previous day took center stage in my mind. “Oh,” I said, blinking. “Yeah, I’m fine with everything. I don’t have any questions. And, honestly, I think you might be paying me too much…”

  “Too much?”

  I nodded. “I’m just walking your dog…”

  Asher smiled, another bright one that did funny things to my stomach. “It’s not too much if this mongrel’s happy.” He ruffled Duke’s head again. “His happiness is worth the price.”

  My heart fluttered at the sentiment. I knew exactly what he meant. It was the reason I’d been prepared to put up the fight of a lifetime for Trixie. I was fine with leaving my husband, my job, my house, my friends.

  But my dog?

  Not a chance.

  Asher polished off his cookie. Somehow, he managed to not drop a single crumb. There was an oversized black mug on his desk and he picked it up and took a sip.

  “Well, if you don’t have any questions, then I guess that part is settled,” he said.

  “Okay.” I started to get to my feet.

  He tilted his head. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I have a couple of questions for you.”

  “Of course.” I repositioned myself in the chair. He probably wanted to ask me a few questions about what I would do with Duke. Where we would walk, maybe what my experience was with dogs. Perhaps he’d throw out a few hypotheticals and see how I responded.

  It’s what I would do.

  But he surprised me.

  “Why have I never seen you before?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

  I gave a slight nod.

  “What brought you to the island?”

  It felt like a complicated story to try and explain.

  “I grew up here,” I said. “I left twelve years ago. And now I’m back.”

  It felt like a shoddy answer because it was.

  But if he wanted more details, he didn’t ask. Instead, he stared at me thoughtfully for a minute, a small smile playing on his lips.

  “Well, whatever brought you back here, I’m glad it did,” he finally said. “Very glad.”

  I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

  There was something in his tone and expression that made me wonder if he was talking about me as the future walker of his dog or something else.

  I stole a covert glance at the gorgeous guy sitting across from me.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but a part of me hoped that it was indeed something else.

  EIGHT

  I didn’t go home.

  I went to the beach instead.

  It felt like a good opportunity to clear my head, which was now clogged with all manner of competing thoughts. Thoughts of Poppy and Caroline were there, but Asher was, too.

  Slipping my sandals off my feet, I let my toes sink into the soft, warm sand. I’d gone to beaches in Minneapolis—it was the land of ten thousand lakes, after all—but there was something different about beach sand. It was smoother, less gritty, alive with creatures burrowing under the surface. The dunes and the sea grass and the smell of salt in the air were missing from the lakes and rivers, and digging my toes deep into the sand made me realize just how much I’d missed this.

  There was something else I’d missed, too.

  An image of Asher popped into my head.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so insanely attracted to a man. Greg and I had long moved past the initial infatuation stage of our relationship; in hi
ndsight, I wasn’t sure it had ever really been there. I couldn’t remember a time at any point in our relationship where looking at him had made my heart hiccup or my toes tingle.

  But Asher Ellsworth definitely did.

  And Asher Ellsworth was definitely out of my league.

  I sighed and tried to force myself to see things a little more clearly, especially those last few minutes of conversation he and I had shared.

  Asher was just being nice when he’d said those things to me.

  Charming.

  That was his job.

  He was in real estate, for crying out loud.

  So what if it had felt like he was flirting a little with me?

  He probably was.

  Because he probably flirted with everyone.

  It was something good-looking guys did.

  It didn’t mean a thing.

  I had to focus on the facts, not the fantasies.

  I was going to walk his dog. For money.

  End of story.

  Disappointment poked at me, and the romantic me tried to revive the argument that there had been something more to the exchange, but I tamped it down.

  I didn’t have time for romance, I told myself. For relationships. I’d jut gotten out of one. The last thing I needed to do was dive back into anything that involved the opposite sex. I didn’t want to date, I didn’t want to swipe right, and I definitely did not want to get married.

  I just wanted to regroup and figure out my life.

  Which was exactly what I was doing.

  I took a deep breath and focused my gaze on the ocean, listening as the waves crashed to shore, watching their rhythmic movement, breathing in the salt-scented air.

  It was a soothing scene…until a ball of fur streaked by.

  I glanced at the dog that had just arrived on the scene, loping along the sand and trying to decide if it wanted to venture into the waves.

  I glanced behind me, looking for the owner.

  And saw no one.

  Immediately, I turned back to the dog.

  My first instinct was to run after it, to coax it to me.

  It was loose.

  Was it missing?

  But then I stiffened.

  No. No way. I did not need to insert myself into another lost dog situation.