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

by Wendy Delaney

  This night kept getting better and better.

  “About time,” Steve said when I rejoined him at the bar. “I thought I was going to have to send a search party after you.”

  “Sorry, I ran into someone I know.”

  His eyes tracked Jessica as she made her way to the back table, where Seth Lukin was chowing down on a slice of pizza. “Uh-huh.”

  “And before you get on my case, I didn’t ask her a single question.”

  “Sure.”

  “Hey, she’s the one who started the conversation with me, actually to thank me for being nice when I sat with her yesterday.

  He smirked. “Yeah, you’re so nice. Not an opportunist at all.”

  “Excuse me, but I can be very nice.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  And I had noticed he hadn’t given Seth and Jessica a second glance.

  He draped his arm around me and led me toward the exit. “Maybe you’d like to show me how very nice you can be.”

  “I would be happy to.” Truly. “Just answer me one question,” I said, waving good-bye to Eddie.

  Steve blew out a breath. “It’d better not be about my least favorite subject.”

  “You don’t seem especially interested in Seth and Jessica.”

  He removed his arm and pushed the door open. “Don’t start.”

  “I just find it curious since it’s obvious that he’s someone who knows a lot more than he’s been willing to say.”

  “Unbelievable,” Steve muttered, the loose gravel of the parking lot crunching under his feet as he stalked toward his truck.

  I ran to catch up with him. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this, but if you’d let me tell you everything I know about—”

  “Why can’t you trust that I’ve already questioned him?”

  I wedged myself between Steve and the truck he was about to climb into. “I do trust you. You know that. I’m just trying to understand what happened last Sunday.”

  He brushed back the strands of my hair that the evening breeze had whipped into my eyes. “I’m sure you do, but I’m telling you for your sake and for Dog’s—stay out of this.”

  “Okay, but—”

  After silencing me with a kiss, he pointed at the passenger seat. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck instead. “You’ll come in, right? You know, so that we can share that late-night snack.”

  The corner of his mouth curled. “Only if you promise to be good.”

  “Detective, not only will I be good. I’ll be nice.”

  * * *

  After spending most of my Monday morning in the stuffy copy room, I craved fresh air, so I took my break on a bench sitting in full sun across the street from the courthouse.

  I closed my eyes, lifting my face skyward to soak in a little Vitamin D, and considered everything I’d seen and heard last night.

  Clearly, I had been warned off the case. Again.

  I understood why. Steve had to still be gathering evidence. Otherwise, he would have already taken Rusty Naylor into custody.

  I put a mental check mark next to the painter/thief’s name because I’d seen with my own eyes that he was a person of interest to Steve.

  That hadn’t been the case last night with Seth Lukin. Unlike me, Steve was always aware of his surroundings, but not once at Eddie’s had he given Seth so much as a moment of pause.

  Setting aside bogus alibis by well-intentioned girlfriends, my gut told me Seth wasn’t anything more than a potential witness in the case against Georgie. That in itself was going to be totally depressing if Steve didn’t start taking some people like Glenn Ferguson in for questioning.

  “You will,” I said aloud, replaying Steve’s words to me in the parking lot. “You have to.” Because Ben Santiago rarely lost a case.

  * * *

  Almost an hour later, my mother called me while I was back on my knees, doing battle with an overstuffed filing cabinet.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, sounding way too chipper for my mood.

  “I’m working.”

  “Can you take a break for lunch?”

  This could only mean one thing. “You need a ride somewhere?”

  “Actually, yes, but I thought we could have lunch first.”

  “I only have an hour, so I don’t have time to go somewhere fancy.”

  “And you’re on your diet. I know. That’s why I thought you might want to grab a quick bite at Duke’s and then drop me off for my appointment.”

  “What, like a doctor’s appointment?” With one of the legal assistants at her desk ten feet behind me, I lowered my voice. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, silly. It’s a hair appointment. There’s going to be a photographer at the interview.”

  “What interview?”

  “Honey, you were there when I first talked to Renee about this. Don’t you remember?”

  Yes, but after everything that happened Saturday, I didn’t seem to be the one suffering from some short-term memory loss. “Of course, but are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Oh, my darling,” Marietta said, injecting venom into every word. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “WELL, SUGAH?” MY mother asked, using her Georgia peach accent when I came to pick her up at Donatello’s. “How do I look?”

  One of the gray-hairs under the hood of a hair dryer answered for me. “Gorgeous.”

  “Not only that, picture-perfect.” In a casually tousled, every hair in place kind of way.

  “Nicely done, as usual,” I said to Donna, who had another client in her chair with two more waiting.

  Donna finger-fluffed Marietta’s fringe of bangs. “I thought so too, if I do say so myself. Of course, look at the beautiful creature I had to work with.”

  “You’re a dear.” My mother gave her a quick hug along with what appeared to be a generous tip. “Thanks for squeezin’ me in on such short notice, hon.”

  Pocketing the cash, Donna thumbed in the direction of the ladies snapping pictures as if the photo session had already begun. “Are you kidding? As soon as the word got out that you were coming, I booked up solid for the rest of the afternoon. Speaking of which, I’d better get a move on before my three o’clock gets here.”

  “I need to get back to work, too.” And to the post office, where I was supposed to be mailing a certified letter for Patsy. “Let’s go. Soon, please,” I added, trying to get my mother to stop posing for fan photos.

  After she finished glad-handing everyone in the salon, I turned to her as she slid into the car. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this interview?”

  “Of course.”

  “Because you wouldn’t want to say anything that you’d regret.”

  She patted me on the thigh. “Sweetie, I think you’re worrying a little too much.”

  Only because I didn’t want to subject my grandmother to any blood-curdling screams after her Wednesday Gazette was delivered.

  Marietta flipped the visor down and checked her flawless makeup in the mirror. “We’re just gonna have ourselves a little chat.”

  Ten minutes later, she repeated the same line to my grandmother, who immediately turned to me after Marietta ran upstairs to change her clothes. “Am I the only one who thinks this is a dangerous idea?”

  I shook my head. “But I don’t have time to keep debating it with her.” Nor did I want to stick around to hear the hissing if this turned into a cat fight.

  “One last thing before I go. Georgie texted me earlier and said my car’s ready. So, if you don’t mind coming with me to pick it up, you’ll get your car back tonight.”

  “No problem, sweetheart. But if it’s ready now we could go, ‘cause I’m quite sure your mother won’t need me here.”

  I kissed Gram’s cheek. “Nice try, but I have to get back to work.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Sure, leave me in the midst of impendi
ng doom.”

  “It’ll be fine. Like Mom said, it’s just a little chat.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  You and me both.

  * * *

  After mailing that letter at the post office, I knew I should make like a homing pigeon and return to my roost at the courthouse. Because if I didn’t hand Patsy a certified mail receipt in the next few minutes, I was sure that the third-floor hall monitor would make it her mission to make sure this bird’s wings got clipped.

  I didn’t need any additional hassle today, so I had every intention of turning and going straight up the hill to the courthouse. And then it struck me that I could take a three-minute detour through my neighborhood and possibly catch a glimpse of Lily walking Fozzie.

  I didn’t know why this felt like a must-see, but after all the misery of the past week, I longed to catch the bliss that I knew would be reflected on Lily’s sweet face.

  And I missed my turn.

  After cruising down every street in the neighborhood, I finally spotted a girl skipping toward my building with a big furry dog. “Sweet.”

  This arrangement was going to work out perfectly. In all respects because I couldn’t stop smiling, a girl and her dog buddy had been reunited, and I no longer had to worry about that buddy having an accident and costing me my damage deposit.

  “Yep, perfect,” I said, making a U-turn back toward Main so that Lily wouldn’t think I was spying on her. “Now, get back to work.”

  Because your ass is gonna be grass if you don’t put the pedal to the metal.

  Unfortunately, Glenn Ferguson was emerging from his electronics store up ahead, and my foot was no longer listening to me. Especially once he shielded his eyes from the sun and looked down the street as if he were surveying his kingdom.

  He looked in my direction and then at the car a half block behind me, but it wasn’t until he started pacing with his cell phone to his ear that I got the impression he was impatiently waiting for someone.

  I wanted to know who, so I pulled into Eddie’s parking lot where I could watch Ferguson from across the street.

  I didn’t have to wait long because a Ford Escape driven by his daughter, Bethany, stopped to pick him up.

  “Good grief.” I made myself even later because of some after-school carpool they participated in?

  Only he owned a car dealership. Instead of carpooling with a family member who would be a slave to her kids’ schedules, as a wheeling-dealing opportunist, wouldn’t he make a point of driving one of the latest luxury models he wanted to sell?

  Not only that, when Ferguson got into the car, Grandpa didn’t turn around to say anything to the kids.

  Something was off.

  Okay, if I hadn’t had any contact with Glenn Ferguson on Saturday, I wouldn’t think twice about him hopping into a car with his daughter—kids or no kids. But that wasn’t the case, and I knew I’d be kicking myself later if I didn’t find out where they went.

  “What does five more minutes matter?” I asked myself as I pulled out on Main Street and followed them. I was sure my ass would be grass no matter what time I tried to slip by Patsy’s desk.

  At least I didn’t have to go far to satisfy my curiosity, because Bethany was turning into the One Stop Party parking lot.

  Were they planning the next big wingding?

  Doubtful. More likely they had some family business to discuss with Mom working in the back room there.

  I pulled into the gas station across the street, where I hoped to get a sense of their body language as they stepped out of the vehicle.

  Only it didn’t seem like I’d get that opportunity any time soon, because mine was the only car door that opened.

  Fine. I could pump some gas while I waited.

  By the time the Honda’s tank was full and every window had been squeegeed clean, father and daughter had finally wrapped up their private meeting, and I watched them make their way to the party store entrance sans children.

  Yep. This was definitely some sort of family meeting.

  Interesting that they were having it here. At a place where the sales clerk had told me Bethany rarely makes an appearance.

  “It must have been pretty important to get her to hire a babysitter and come to the store,” I muttered to myself as I slid in behind the steering wheel. No sooner than the words left my mouth that a beater Dodge parked next to Bethany’s SUV and a skinny guy who looked like he could be Colt’s younger brother disappeared inside the store.

  “Interviewing for the limo driver job?”

  Considering the crowd that had already gathered, the obvious answer was Yes.

  Waiting for a logging truck to rumble by before I merged onto the highway, I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a photo of the guy’s car. I didn’t know if I’d need it, but at least I had something that could come in handy if he turned out to be an associate of Rusty Naylor’s.

  I tapped on the stored image and zoomed in to ensure that I could make out the license plate.

  The characters were fuzzy, but I could read them, so good enough.

  I was about to toss my phone onto the passenger seat when I realized that I’d caught something else in the image: The inflatable gorilla had managed to twist around to face me, almost as if it were posing for the shot.

  “Weird.”

  I didn’t need my logic-minded grandfather to materialize and give me a physics lecture. It was a simple matter of the wind coming in off the bay, the speed of the passing logging truck, the surface area of the inflatable. Blah, blah, blah.

  Still, it looked weird.

  Even weirder, his outstretched hand pointed in the direction I needed to be heading. As in immediately, before any of the Ferguson family stepped out to find me watching them.

  I didn’t typically take the advice of inflatable gorillas, but it seemed like the right time to start.

  * * *

  “How was your day, dear?” Gram asked three hours later, when I came to pick her up.

  “I survived it.” Only because Patsy and Frankie were huddled in a senior staff meeting that went long—mercifully for me.

  “But never mind boring stuff like that.” Since there was a Subaru parked out front, I eased my way toward the kitchen so that I could sneak a peek into the living room, where a photo shoot appeared to be wrapping up. “How’s it going in there?”

  “Charmaine, don’t be an eavesdropper.”

  I scowled at my grandmother. “As if you haven’t been listening in on them most of the afternoon.”

  “It’s my house. I can do what I darn well please.”

  “So?” I asked, hearing an unexpected peal of feminine laughter.

  “It’s been surprisingly civil. A little tense at first.” Gram stepped past me and held up a wine bottle. “But once the gals downed a little of this, they loosened up.”

  “Ooh, I hope that didn’t loosen Mom’s mouth too much.” Or bring the talons out.

  “She seems fine. From the sounds of it, I’d say she’s been having fun.”

  That could also be said for little sadists who enjoy pulling the wings off butterflies. “I bet.”

  I didn’t particularly want to hear a blow-by-blow of how my mother’s meeting went with her fiancé’s ex, so I jingled the keys in my hand as a not-so-subtle reminder of what had brought me here. “You want to drive?”

  “And miss out on being chauffeured like a queen bee? No, thank you. I’ll get my coat and let your mother know we’re leaving,” Gram said, heading for the foyer, which from my vantage point appeared to be crowded with Marietta and her guests.

  Gram looked back at me. “Looks like it might be a minute.”

  “No problem.” I had fed Fozzie before I left, and Bassett’s wouldn’t close for over another hour, so there was no big rush other than to get out of here before my mother decided that she wanted to come with us.

  A minute turned into five by the time the Subaru drove away, and Gram reappeared with her coat. “Your mo
ther wants to come with us.”

  I clenched my teeth. “It’s not like we’re going out to do anything fun. I’m just going to pick up my car.”

  “You can be the one to tell her that.”

  “Okay, I’m ready,” Marietta announced, her double Ds bouncing as she pranced down the stairs in her favorite red stilettos.

  “Are you sure you want to go? We’re just going to Bassett’s shop to get my car.”

  She flicked her wrist as if she were shooing away a pesky bug. “Nonsense. We’ll go to dinner afterward. I’m starving.”

  “You don’t have dinner plans with Barry, honey?” Gram asked.

  My mother shook her head. “Cancelled, but I told him I set something up for him after the interview.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  Obviously, Gram didn’t either because she shot me a worried glance. “I hadn’t realized that he even knew about it. You know, considering all the parties involved.”

  “Don’t be silly, Mama. I believe in total transparency.”

  Since when? “What are you up to?”

  Marietta’s glossy lips curled as she glided toward the back door. “Just a little clearing of the air.” She held the door open for her mother. “Shall we?”

  “Mary Jo, I have a very bad feeling that you’re playing with fire,” Gram said, putting on her coat.

  “No, Mama. I’m making sure that a fire is out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “MAKE THE LEFT at the corner, Chah-maine.”

  I shot the uninvited back seat driver a glare from the rearview mirror. “That’s not how to get to Bassett’s.”

  “No, but it’s the fastest way to Barry’s and I’d like to swing by for a moment.”

  Gram and I exchanged wary glances.

  “I saw that,” Marietta huffed. “Will you just trust me to know what I’m doing, please?”

  “Fine.” I turned left and headed up the hill toward where Mr. Ferris lived, south of the park.

  After a moment of companionable silence, my mother looked up from the lacquered nails she had been inspecting. “Have you seen the new paint on that cute Victorian on J Street, Mama?”