Dogs, Lies, and Alibis: A Humorous Cozy Mystery (A Workings Stiffs Mystery Book 5)

by Wendy Delaney

  Since she seemed to be waiting for me to make the next move, I pointed at the covered frying pan smoking on the stove. “Everything okay over there?”

  “The omelet!” Marietta pulled off the lid, revealing a crispy blob that could double as a Frisbee. “It’s ruined, and I had so wanted this breakfast to be special.”

  Gram patted her daughter’s slumping shoulder. “Sweetheart, you have many talents, but none of them are in the kitchen. Although the coffee isn’t bad.”

  “Maybe we should just take our cups into the dining room and…” Get this over with. “Skip breakfast, at least for now.”

  “Great idea.” Hooking arms with her daughter, Gram escorted her out of the kitchen. “Who needs all that cholesterol anyway?”

  Marietta sniffed. “You’re just being nice.”

  “I’m your mother, and you know I love you,” Gram said, depositing the family drama queen into her usual chair. “But if you ever want to get up early and make another breakfast, you know where I keep the cereal.”

  I stifled a chuckle as I brought in our cups.

  Leaning on the table, Marietta rested her chin in her palm. “There’s no need to be insulting. I just wanted to do something special to make up for my behavior after we got home from that poor boy’s service.”

  She hung her head, her extended eyelashes fluttering like spiky bat wings. “And just like yesterday, I made a mess of it.”

  True, but what I didn’t understand was why she was acting as if this had never happened before.

  Gram reached over and touched my mother on the arm. “One thing about a mess, it can always be cleaned up.”

  Marietta looked across the table at me. “I’d like to believe that.”

  If that was supposed to be my cue, I didn’t know what I was supposed to say, so I slurped some coffee to block the intensity of her gaze.

  Injecting a little steel into the chin she was aiming at me, she straightened. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

  And that was supposed to make everything okay?

  “I wish you’d say something,” she said, her full lips curling into a fragile smile.

  “Sure. Just remember that I’m your daughter, not your trick poodle.”

  “Chah-maine, that’s not how I think of—”

  “Doesn’t matter. Do you still plan on marrying Barry?”

  She blinked. “Yes, of course.”

  “Then never use me to put him to the test again. That will help all our relationships going forward,” I said, heading into the other room to collect my tote bag.

  “Chah-maine, don’t go.” Marietta followed me to the door. “We should talk, don’t you think?”

  It felt like it was twenty years too late for that. “Don’t worry. We’re okay, Mom.”

  “Are you sure?” She hugged me, enveloping me in her musky jasmine. “We could make pancakes. Well, you could.”

  Yeah, pancakes would fix everything.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I DROVE THROUGH the streets of Port Merritt stewing about the choices I’d made since I sat down to dinner with Steve.

  While I regretted being so blunt with the mother I had just walked out on, I knew our exchange would soon be like dust in the wind to her. So if she had any dusty ruffled feathers, I knew I could count on her to perform the requisite preening without further repercussion.

  The situation with Steve was another matter entirely. Given the fact that his truck wasn’t parked in his driveway or outside the police station, the Roadkill Grill, Duke’s, or Eddie’s, I had a sinking feeling that his anger with me wouldn’t blow over anytime soon.

  Worse, with all the breakfast smells venting from the restaurants I was driving past, my stomach was growling, demanding to get in on some of that greasy action.

  I was in no mood to get grilled like the pancakes I was now craving (Thanks, Mom), so Gossip Central was out. That left the next best breakfast option in town—one that I’d heard featured a short stack special.

  Doubling back to turn into the Roadkill Grill parking lot, I spotted Lily and Anna Maxwell walking up Madrone Way and pulled over to say hello.

  Lily waved and ran up to poke her head through the window I’d lowered. “Hi! Did you get a new car?”

  “I probably need a new car, but no. This is my grandmother’s.” I smiled at Anna. “Out enjoying the sunshine?”

  Lily didn’t give her mother an opportunity to respond. “I’d rather be out walking Fozzie. Is he with you?” she asked, searching behind me.

  “No, sorry. I had to go somewhere this morning and left him in my apartment.”

  “Are you going to be walking him later? I could come with you.”

  Anna heaved a sigh. “Miss Digby probably has plans for later, so let’s not intrude upon them.”

  Lily glanced back, crinkling her nose. “Well, he has to be walked some time or you know what’ll happen.”

  “Very true.” And the longer I kept Fozzie, the more I worried about how I was going to keep accidents from happening when I had to work late. “You’re welcome to join me when we go for a walk later in the afternoon. I live just a couple of blocks from you and—”

  “You live that close?” Lily’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “I could come over every day after school and walk him for you, just like I did for Colt.”

  “Lily,” Anna chided, “my little entrepreneur, you’re being way too pushy.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Because her daughter had just presented the perfect solution to our mutual dilemmas.

  “That would really help me out.” I extended my hand through the open window and shook the girl’s much smaller one. “So, if you want to be my dog-walker, you’ve got a deal.”

  She grinned. “Awesome!”

  “If it’s okay with your mom, I’ll stop by later to show you where I live, and then we can take Fozzie out for a little stroll.”

  “It’s okay, isn’t it?” Lily gazed up imploringly at her mother. “Please, please, please.”

  Anna nodded. “All this is okay with me as long as you agree to get back by four every day. Because we won’t be using a dog-walking job as an excuse to not do your homework.”

  “You’ve got a deal!” The ten-year-old shook her mother’s hand and then turned back to me. “So when are you coming over?”

  After pancakes. More important, after I found Steve.

  * * *

  “I’m pretty sure pancakes aren’t on your diet,” Steve said, taking the seat next to me at the Roadkill Grill counter.

  I shot him as haughty a glare as I could pull off with maple syrup coating my lips. “Are you the food police now?”

  “Nope. I hear that’s more hours, less pay.” He grabbed a laminated menu from behind the napkin holder in front of him. “Not in my best interest.”

  “Same goes for annoying me while I eat.”

  “That goes both ways, Chow Mein.”

  Cringing, I put down my fork so that I could focus on what I needed to say. “Sorry, the last thing I wanted was to chase you away last night.”

  “Maybe.” Steve set down the menu, picked up my fork and snatched the last bite of my pancakes. “But you wanted something else more,” he said chewing. “And that’s a problem for me.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t think you do.” He poked my arm with the fork. “I can’t have you interfering in this case.”

  I yanked it away so he couldn’t launch another pronged attack. “I know. I get it, and I’ll thank you to not poke holes in my sweater.”

  “Coffee, hon?” Janine asked Steve while she topped off my cup with some steamy brew that put Duke’s to shame.

  When he didn’t answer right away, she shifted her gaze to me as if she had sensed the undercurrent rippling between Steve and me. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

  He unfolded himself from the bar stool. “Nope, I was just leaving.”

  “Don’t go,” I said, hating myself that I sounded like Marietta. “Stay and
have some coffee.” And talk to me.

  He gave my shoulders a squeeze. “I’ll take a raincheck on that.”

  When Steve headed for the door, Janine set down the coffee carafe and dashed after him. “Detective, wait.”

  He opened the door for her, and they spent the next minute talking in the parking lot.

  It obviously hadn’t been about his breakfast tab, and by the way Janine was avoiding making eye contact with me when she returned to retrieve the carafe, it seemed apparent that he had instructed her to keep the subject of their discussion to herself.

  “What the heck was that about?” I asked.

  She waved me off. “Nothing important. Just something he had asked about.”

  “Having to do with Colt Ziegler’s death?”

  Her eyes widened.

  Bingo.

  “Uh…” Worrying her lips, she splashed a little more coffee into my already full cup. “I don’t think I’m at liberty to say.”

  “That’s okay. Let me guess. You saw Colt stop by here for a burger the night he died.”

  “Wow, you’re a good guesser.”

  I wasn’t that good. Katherine Pembroke had told me as much when I bumped into her at the grocery store. “About what time was that?”

  “Oh, I didn’t see him. One of the cooks filling in this morning mentioned seeing him last Sunday.”

  No doubt Steve had gone around through the kitchen door to speak with him. Personally, I didn’t see the need to chat with another witness who’d be telling me something I already knew.

  Unless…

  “Did your cook say anything about who Colt was with?”

  “I got the impression that he was late coming on shift and didn’t see much other than the two guys sitting in the front of the limo.”

  Someone else was sitting in the limo?

  Someone who could have used that opportunity to stash something in that limo shortly after the robbery at the Pembroke residence?

  I’d bet dollars to doughnuts I knew who that someone was.

  * * *

  “Char? Did you hear me?” Lily asked, interrupting my thoughts while we walked with Fozzie toward her apartment.

  “I’m sorry, I was thinking about…” I didn’t want to admit to this kid that I was trying to picture Rusty Naylor standing over the body of her dying friend and neighbor. “Just some work stuff. What’d you say?”

  “I kinda wanted to know when I’d get paid.”

  “Oh.” I’d been so consumed with showing Lily around the apartment so that she knew where everything was that the very important detail of payment for services rendered had skipped my mind.

  “Colt paid me at the end of every week. Five dollars cash.” She glanced up at me. “’Cause I don’t have a bank account yet.”

  “A good entrepreneur should have a bank account. I did at your age, so you should probably talk to your mom about that. And let’s make it ten dollars a week. I’ll leave an envelope with the cash for you on my dining room table every Friday.”

  She nodded, a bright smile on her face. “Cool.”

  Lily seemed so happy about her raise, I didn’t have the heart to remind her that I was still looking for someone to adopt the fur ball trotting between us.

  When we rounded the corner and the Madrone Arms came into view, Fozzie picked up the pace.

  “He still knows his old home,” Lily announced, breaking into a jog to keep up with her buddy.

  And I was quite sure he’d pick that grungy apartment over mine in a heartbeat. I doubted that the person belonging to the moving van parked in front of unit 3 wanted a big furry dog, though.

  Unfortunately, based on the lack of response from all my free dog posters, no one else around here did either.

  Too bad, because Fozzie was a pretty nice dog when he wasn’t blasting my eardrums with barking, which he tended to do when strangers approached a little too quickly.

  Ten minutes later, with Fozzie standing his ground between me and the Ford pickup that had just pulled over near the street entrance to my apartment complex, it seemed that he didn’t like metal strangers either.

  Steve rolled down his window. “Why the heck is your dog barking at me? He was practically licking my fingers last night.”

  “Maybe he senses that you don’t have good intentions.”

  “Oh yeah? Then he’s smarter than I thought.”

  Trying to keep a lid on the happiness bubbling inside me like fizzy champagne, I held Fozzie close. “Sit, and no barking.” We don’t want to chase the nice man away.

  I smiled up at Steve when Fozzie’s butt met the sidewalk. “You were saying something about intentions?”

  “Actually, I think you were.”

  “So I was, but only because I thought you might have stopped by to pick up where we left off last night.”

  Steve’s mouth curled into a heart-stopping grin. “You’re right. I have that steak dinner to finish.”

  “Sorry, your eligibility for that dinner expired last night.”

  “You ate my steak?”

  “Technically, it was my steak.”

  “Then, technically, I guess we can’t pick up where we left off.”

  “Sure we can,” I said, not willing to let him wriggle off this deliciously fun hook we were both playing with. “I’d be happy to make you something else.”

  “I’ve seen your refrigerator. All you have is lettuce in there.”

  “Trust me, pal. I have something else in mind for you.”

  He revved the engine. “Race you there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ALMOST TWO HOURS later, Steve shifted his attention from the flat screen above the bar at Eddie’s to the last slice of pizza sitting between us. “I’ll split it with you.”

  While Steve and Fozzie had both helped me work off my caloric intake from those pancakes, if I wanted to squeeze into that bridesmaid’s dress, another bite of pizza was out of the question. “It’s all yours.”

  “Of course, we could take it back to your apartment for a late-night snack.”

  I batted my sparse lashes at him. “Sir, just what are you suggestin’?” I said, borrowing Marietta’s fake accent.

  “Exactly the same thing you were suggesting earlier.”

  Goody. “I beg your pardon.”

  His eyes darkened. “Go ahead. I like it when you beg.”

  If he wanted to watch me melt right before his eyes, he knew just what to say. “My mama warned me about boys like you.”

  “No, she didn’t. And since when do you listen to your mother?”

  “Good point.” I angled in for a kiss, and Steve immediately deepened it.

  “Jeez, you two. Get a room,” Eddie said, collecting Steve’s empty glass. “Or do you want another beer?”

  Steve gave me a lopsided smile as he used the pad of his thumb to wipe the corner of my mouth. “I think we’re done here, don’t you?”

  I stiffened as if he had poured my ice water down my back. “What was that?”

  “Just some tomato sauce.”

  Swell. I’d been shamelessly playing this seduction game with pizza goo on my face?

  I grabbed a clean napkin and started wiping while Steve reached for his wallet. “Did you get it all?”

  “I guess.”

  I looked down in horror at the red smear on the napkin. “I’ll be right back,” I said, retreating to the ladies’ room.

  The lighting over the mirror wasn’t great in there, but at least I had the space to myself to inspect the damage, which after an application of lip gloss appeared to be confined to my ego. “But girl, you really know how to impress a guy.”

  Someone in one of the stalls cleared her throat.

  Perfect. Now I was making a fool of myself in front of strangers.

  The toilet flushed while I washed my hands and a brassy blonde who had been no stranger of late emerged from the stall.

  “Hi,” Jessica said, tentatively approaching me.

  “Hey.”
I moved closer to the paper towel dispenser to give her room at the sink.

  Flashing my reflection a smile, she lathered up while I dried. “I saw you at the bar with that detective.”

  “Yeah, he’s a friend of mine.”

  She reached for a towel. “I could see that. It also looked like you don’t need to worry about impressing him.”

  Easy for her to say. She hadn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes with pizza hanging from her lips. “I don’t know about that, but thanks for saying so.”

  “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

  “Me?”

  Jessica’s eyes glistened as she pressed her lips together for a silent second. “For being so nice to me after Colt’s service.”

  “Losing someone isn’t easy, especially someone you were close with.”

  “Well,” she said, blotting away a tear that had spilled over her spiky lashes. “You were the only person who talked to me there. Kendra didn’t even acknowledge me.”

  “You two haven’t talked since it happened?”

  Jessica shook her head. “She and her mother probably blame me for leaving Colt and—”

  “No, I know for a fact that they don’t.” Because Tami lay the blame solely at Georgie’s feet. “So please don’t beat yourself up about what happened.”

  “I can’t help it. I keep wondering if…if I hadn’t left him that way…” Jessica turned away, struggling to compose herself. “Sorry. All I seem to do lately is cry.”

  “It’ll get better. Pizza helps,” I said, trying to distract her with a little humor.

  “Sure.” Staring into the mirror, she dabbed at her leaky eyes. “Waterproof mascara helps, too.”

  “Whatever works.” I thought she could use some privacy and inched toward the door. “Well, take care of—”

  “Did I see you sitting with Marietta Moreau yesterday?”

  “Yeah, she’s my mother.” I readied myself to hear something about the resemblance, at least from the neck up.

  “She is? Really? You don’t look anything like her.”

  Whatever.

  Turning toward me, Jessica framed her face with her hands as if she were inviting my close inspection. “You should tell her that the mascara she sells on those commercials really works.”