No Filter

by Heather Day Gilbert

  I nodded, unsure where she was leading the conversation.

  "I talked to the center director about it—Alice Stevenson. Have you met her? Anyway, I told her I needed some free therapy sessions since the murder happened on their property, to my poor golf instructor. She agreed to three sessions, and I've found Doc Schneider to be so understanding, about the death and other things."

  "That's good." I wasn't sure if that was the appropriate response to someone discussing their free therapy sessions.

  Isabella rolled right along. "At first I thought Alice was odd, but it seems she's quite kind. She assured me that all the golf students will be reimbursed for the lessons we're missing until she finds a replacement instructor."

  As the chatter from downstairs seemed to drift closer, I interrupted Isabella's monologue. "Did you by any chance hear a dog barking during your session?" I asked.

  She looked thoughtful. "Actually, I think I did! It was right when we were discussing my mother-in-law. I heard a couple of big woofs, but then Doc Schneider turned on his indoor waterfall so I could refocus. Why do you ask?"

  Before I could answer, Jedi came bounding up the steps, his bare feet sinking into the carpet. "Macy," he gushed. "You abandoned us! What happened to you?"

  Perhaps sensing she was no longer the focus of attention, Isabella said goodnight, sidestepping Jedi to head downstairs.

  "I'm afraid I got a migraine. I had to look for some water."

  "There's some in the—"

  "I know, Isabella told me, thank you." I walked down the stairs, Jedi close on my heels. "I don't think I'll be doing your class anymore—I'm sorry. I just can't handle the drumming. But are there any other classes I could take?" I needed to keep up a pretense so I could locate the source of the dog barks.

  Jedi was obviously peeved. "Well, not really—I mean, not on the same days."

  "Any day is okay." I tried to sweeten my tone. "I could really use any kind of help while I'm working through my divorce."

  He sighed and kicked at the carpet. "There is one class on Wednesdays and Fridays—it's the Thrive at Life class. I don't think it's as helpful as the drums for realigning your spirit, though."

  "I'll just have to make do, I suppose. Could you sign me up?"

  After Jedi reluctantly signed me up for the class, I strode out into the brisk air, appreciating the planets and stars that now dotted the darkened night sky. I took a moment to pick out Cygnus the swan, one of my favorite constellations.

  I was just about to round the front of the building to see if I could find an easy way to climb to the second floor when a security guard emerged from the shadows.

  "Excuse me, miss. The parking lot is the other way."

  I felt like an idiot and was glad he couldn't see the blush creeping up my cheeks. "Oh my word, it's been such a long day and I was just stargazing—it's such a great view up on the hill. Thank you so much."

  I turned and strode back toward the parking area. So much for hunting Coal down tonight. But I'd be back tomorrow evening, and I'd make an excuse to go upstairs. I needed to make sure it was Coal before I called it in as a dognapping, otherwise word would get around town that an owner of Barks & Beans had a screw loose.

  However, if someone had stolen my dog, I was going to make them rue the day they'd assumed Coal would be an easy target. Coal now came with strings attached—and those strings were attached to me.

  7

  The next morning, Bo asked how the hunt for my dog was going. He'd gone out looking for Coal after he closed up and wondered why he hadn't seen me out searching, too.

  I hedged a little, telling him that I'd followed up on a possible lead outside town, but it hadn't panned out yet. I did plan to have a discussion with Bo about why I felt Katie had taken my dog and maybe even hidden him at Ivy Hill, but the cafe was busy, so I decided to hold off until after work.

  Charity and Milo were bustling behind the counter. Always one to ply me with her baked goods, Charity offered me a thickly frosted caramel macchiato cupcake. Unable to exert any self-control, I gobbled the cupcake before heading back over to the doggie section, where we weren't allowed to have food.

  Summer had dropped off a fairly sedate crew of dogs today. There was an older beagle, who occasionally launched into an impromptu, lonesome howl, as well as a couple of low-energy smaller dogs. It hit me that since we were matching customers with poochie pets, the number of dogs at the shelter might dwindle. It was a great problem to have, but at some point we might have to pull from shelters in neighboring towns.

  I glanced toward the coffee bar when I heard a familiar voice. Isabella had come in alone, and she was placing an order for a low-fat, sugar-free vanilla soy latte. I had to smile, because she added one of Charity's irresistible cupcakes to her otherwise low-cal order.

  She caught a glimpse of me and gave an excited wave. "Macy! I'm so glad to see you again!"

  Milo gave me an inscrutable look from behind his glasses, but I was pretty sure he was curious as to how I would've befriended a country clubber like Isabella. Chances were, his parents ran in the same circles.

  Isabella tottered over toward the doggie section in her elegant nude suede heels, stopping short at the divider wall. Since she didn't appear to have a job, I couldn't fathom why she felt the need to don designer heels every time she went out in our small town. If I were posh and wealthy, I'd wear slippers around and send my butler to pick up the coffee and pastries for me. Bo called it my "youngest child syndrome," and it was true—I loved being babied every chance I could. Jake had known that from the get-go, and had wooed me with expensive restaurants and elaborately planned activities.

  Isabella leaned on wooden ledge, watching the dogs as she took a huge bite of her cupcake.

  She closed her eyes. "Follow your bliss, honey. That's what I'm going to do."

  I didn't know if she was talking to me or to herself, so I gave the dogs head pats all round.

  After devouring her treat, Isabella focused on me. "I'm so glad I ran into you last night. I just feel like I need to talk to someone about the whole thing with Gerard. I mean, Doc Schneider's helpful, but he's so...noncommittal, you know? Just like a shrink." She laughed.

  I didn't mind exploiting her need to talk. After all, Gerard's death had to be connected with his Great Dane's dognapping, didn't it? It was entirely possible the dognapper was looking for the metal tag on Coal's collar. They hadn't gotten it, though—I'd checked my safe and it was still there.

  "I understand," I said, wondering what fresh news Isabella might have today. She seemed to be a wealth of information, and she had no hesitation in sharing it.

  "Gerard and I were so close," she began, taking a sip of her latte. "I haven't really shared this with my other friends, but Gerard told me he thought someone was stalking him. One night he saw shadows when he was locking up, and another time he was convinced someone had rifled through his stuff when he was out on the course." She sniffed. "I told him it must be his imagination. And now he's dead! I shouldn't have brushed him off like he was seeing things."

  She did, indeed, seem to be grieving the loss of her golf instructor—perhaps a bit too much, if he was only a golf instructor? The beagle started whining, perhaps picking up on the sad vibes emanating from Isabella.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "Did he feel anxious about any particular person he worked with? I mean, did anyone have a reason to stalk him?"

  "No, everyone seemed to like him. I think he'd had a little tiff or two with the director Alice, but nothing too intense."

  One of the smaller dogs strained at its leash to get to Isabella. "Do you want to pet one?" I asked.

  "Of course!" She placed her almost-empty coffee cup on the table and pointed. "How about that fluffy one—do you think it's part Maltese?

  I glanced down at the long-haired white dog. "I suppose it's possible," I said. Anything was possible, but I was doubtful this cutie had any strain of purebred in it.

  Isabella walked over and took the
small dog's leash before returning to our conversation. "For the past couple of years, Gerard hosted a Christmas party for the Ivy Hill staff and select clients at his house. It was the quaintest little home, over in Fairlea, and it wasn't far from the spiritual center."

  I thought about confiding that Coal might've tried to return to Gerard's house so Isabella would give me the exact address, but I decided against it. Instead, I asked, "You said his house is quaint—is it similar to others in that area?"

  "Oh, no." She gave a fond, reminiscent smile. "It's this bright yellow cottage and it has the cutest white gingerbread trim...in fact, it reminds me of a little gingerbread house with its sloped roof. It's over on Third Street." As she scratched at the white dog's ears, it nuzzled into her hand. Was Isabella ever planning on adopting a dog from us, or did she just like shooting the breeze in our cafe? Was she actually trying to befriend me, or did she just need a listening ear?

  Other customers were trickling into the dog petting area, so I stood to greet them. "Thanks for talking, Isabella," I said.

  She glanced up from the dog, which she seemed smitten with. She struck me as a lonely woman who could really use a canine pet. "Of course. I've told absolutely all my friends about your fabulous place. We'll talk again soon, I'm sure!"

  Bo walked in—capturing the attention of several females, including Isabella. He was wearing a gray sweater that played nicely against his red hair and beard. It also fit his muscles well, which was another attention-grabber for the ladies.

  "Hey, sis, you have a minute?" He nodded at the customers in the room, and Isabella fluttered her eyelashes.

  "Sure." Since the dogs were being quite calm, I opened the gate and met him near the coffee bar.

  "Just wondering if you needed an extra hand in there? I noticed you were spending a lot of time with that blonde woman. Is she thinking of adopting a dog or something?"

  I shrugged. "I honestly don't know. She just dropped in here and started talking to me. But it's okay—I shut the conversation down when other customers moseyed in." I glanced around at the nearby tables and no one appeared to be listening to us. "Actually, I wanted to talk with you, Bo. There's something going on up at that Ivy Hill Spiritual Center for Healing, I'm sure of it. I think someone there might've dognapped Coal."

  "What?" Bo took my elbow and lightly steered me toward the back room, where we had to sidestep a couple of boxes of take-out cups. "What makes you think that? Wasn't that where someone was murdered?"

  I might as well lay all my cards on the table for my big bro, who had always been my protector in grade school and beyond. I explained how Katie the masseuse had paid me a visit, trying to buy Coal, and how I suspected she'd wanted the metal tag I'd cut from his collar and hidden in my safe. I told him that Isabella knew Gerard, so it had been helpful to talk with her and get a better grip on Gerard's situation before he died.

  I leaned against the sink. "I think someone's holding Coal at Ivy Hill. I heard a big dog barking last night when I visited the center."

  "Wait—you visited the place?" Bo asked. "What'd you do, mosey in and ask if they'd seen your dog?"

  "No, of course not. I'm not that dense—I didn't want to give my mission away."

  Bo's eyebrows raised. "Your mission?"

  "Yes, it's my mission to find my dog," I said huffily.

  A small smile cracked Bo's lips. "Of course it is. I get it, sis, I do. But what if someone stole him to sell him? I mean, those Danes can bring in a hefty price. Maybe they're trying to get him on the black market."

  "Trust me, I thought of that." I shoved my wayward bangs out of my eyes. "I've scoured the internet, but there aren't any dogs fitting Coal's description or matching his photo for sale."

  "Could be on the Dark Web," he said spookily.

  "No, I refuse to believe that. It has something to do with that tag, I'm sure of it. I'll show it to you after work. It says 'Amber 457301.' Does that mean anything, you think?"

  "Sounds like a girl's name," Bo said. "I'd have to give some thought as to what might use six digits like that."

  "Well, think about it. Come to my place after work and we'll eat and figure out the plan. I'm signed up for a class at Ivy Hill tonight—not that awful drumming class I tried to do before. You could tag along and maybe one of us could snoop around?" I clasped my hands together. "Pretty please?"

  Bo leaned against the metal shelving. "All right. I'll do it, but only for you, because I know what this dog means to you." His voice cracked a little, and he didn't have to say what we both knew—that besides him, Coal was all I had right now.

  As I followed Bo out of the back room, I couldn't stop smiling. My big bro was on the case with me, and he would never let me down.

  Bo fixed a meal of chicken and dumplings that would've made Aunt Athaleen proud. I wished I'd spent more time in her kitchen, but instead I'd always migrated outdoors, exploring things with my dogs and daydreaming my life away.

  As we ate, I caught Bo up on everything I'd heard, backing all the way up to Isabella's first conversation with her friend at Barks & Beans.

  "I mean, it's possible the center director, Alice, is involved," I said, munching on a bite of salad. "Isabella said Alice and Gerard had some tiffs, and it sounds like their relationship was strained, but Isabella didn't think Alice would be stalking Gerard. Oh, yeah—and Isabella said Alice had some expensive rhino horn on her desk, so I guess she's doing okay for money."

  My brother chewed his dumpling, waiting for me to wrap things up. In the silence, I felt an acute awareness that Coal wasn't pressed against my leg or sitting nearby, politely watching me eat. I hoped someone was feeding him well.

  I tried to swallow my sadness and continued, my voice unsteady. "Oh, and unless I miss my guess, I think Isabella was having an affair with Gerard. She said she'd been over at his house for Christmas parties, but the way she lit up when she talked about the place, it was obvious she'd been there other times. Plus, she seems to be personally grieving about Gerard's death—she's even getting therapy sessions at Ivy Hill for it."

  "I think I'm getting the picture," Bo said. "And you said you heard the dog barking upstairs at the center, right? How about this—we both attend the thriving class, then I'll slip out and check around upstairs. I'll be careful around that Doctor Schneider's office, in case he's counseling people."

  "Sounds good." I took a sip of sweet tea. "Be careful, though. Gerard was obviously murdered, and the killer could easily be one of the employees at the center."

  "Of course." Bo patted at his beltline, where I knew his handgun was securely holstered under his shirt.

  "Just don't get too crazy with exercises if they're doing those, or someone might see that gun," I said.

  "I might wear an ankle holster tonight," he said.

  "We'll be ready for whatever," I said. "Now, let's go find my dog."

  8

  The Thrive at Life class met in the annexed part of Ivy Hill, so it could prove tricky for Bo to sneak back into the main section and check for Coal. The annex was connected by a greenhouse-style hallway that was chock full of warm-weather plants. I was particularly taken with an orange orchid that glowed like a flame of color in an otherwise green room.

  We arrived in the classroom early because Bo arrived everywhere early. I think he felt it gave him an advantage over others, being the first to get the lay of the land and familiarize himself with a new setting.

  A woman with short maroon hair and cat-eye glasses was arranging chairs in a circle. She wore dress pants and a blouse, so I figured that despite my yoga-pant garb, we wouldn't be doing exercise in this class. Bo jumped in to help the woman while I opened the door for an older couple who had just arrived. The couple had obviously been fighting with one another, since they were still scrapping around and didn't even thank me.

  "Please, have seats in the circle," the maroon-haired woman said. "I have handouts to give you once everyone arrives, but for now, I'll just introduce myself. I'm Alice Stevenson
, the director of the center."

  I struggled to hide my surprise. Here was one of my prime persons of interest in Gerard's death, which meant she could also be involved in Coal's dognapping.

  After I sat down, Alice came over to shake my hand. "Welcome. And you are?"

  "Macy Hatfield—that's my brother Bo who helped you with the chairs. We run the new Barks & Beans Cafe in town." I watched her face carefully to see if she'd recognize my name—which she would if she'd snuck into my house to steal my dog.

  Her green eyes didn't flinch and her face remained placid. "How lovely to meet you! I've heard a lot about that cafe. Tell me, do you have éclairs? I'm a sucker for a homemade éclair."

  I smiled. "I'm sure our baker, Charity, could add some to the menu. She's always on the lookout for new customer favorites."

  "Please do! I'll have to drop by sometime. I'm not much of a dog person, but I think it's wonderful what you're doing for the shelter dogs." As more class members arrived, she darted a glance toward them, then looked back at me. "Please excuse me; I'd better introduce myself to the others."

  As the perky Alice walked away in her eco-friendly shoes, I had to wonder if she'd dropped that dog comment on purpose, perhaps to throw me from guessing she might've stolen my dog. It seemed unlikely, given that it sounded like Alice and Gerard weren't tight, so he wouldn't have been likely to mention the metal tag on Coal's collar to her.

  Still, I considered everyone in this place a suspect in Coal's dognapping until I could start ruling them out.

  Bo settled in next to me on the chair I'd saved for him, which was closest to the door. "Find out anything?" he whispered.

  "Not sure," I said. "Alice seems genuine enough—she said she doesn't like dogs."

  Bo rubbed his beard. "Could be a smokescreen."

  "I agree."

  Conversation died down as Alice took her seat by the window. She clapped her hands together and smiled. "Welcome to the Thrive at Life class. This class is designed to help you work through personal wounds toward goals that will enrich your life. Together, we will help you forge new and healthy pathways to attaining your dreams."