One Bark And Stormy Prom Night (Happy Tails Dog Walking Mysteries Book 3)

by Stella St. Claire

  “I’m too busy. We have to decorate for prom.”

  Janelle narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, we? I thought I made it perfectly clear yesterday that I am too busy to help plan a prom with you.”

  Feeling almost shameless, Olivia wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the floor. “I know you did, but I’ve been feeling the need for some company, and I need a project. I promise that I’ll take charge of the whole thing, but I thought it might be fun if the three of us got together and worked. It might help me take my mind off things.”

  Janelle immediately threw her arms around Olivia. “Of course, I’ll help! I had no idea that you wanted to spend more time with me, and I do want to be here for you during your time of need.”

  Her time of need? Olivia almost groaned, but she’d brought it on herself. She was playing the newly dumped card, and now she would reap the grim benefits.

  The sad thing was that it wasn’t far from the truth, but Olivia felt more comfortable calling it a manipulation tactic than admitting that she needed her sister.

  She’d hoped to help Janelle close up the bakery, but Janelle turned out to be a one-woman machine. After Olivia knocked a nearly full bag of sugar onto the floor, Janelle shooed her out.

  Rather than go home, she trudged up the stairs to the unfinished third floor and walked around it.

  It had always been meant to become two apartments, so it was already set up for kitchen and bathroom installs, though they hadn’t gotten around to buying the appliances. Olivia hadn’t expected to finish it for another year, and hiring someone now would stretch both sisters pretty thin.

  How hard could it be to do it themselves? Olivia wanted to keep busy and stay out of her empty house. The prom committee could only take up so much of her time.

  Some sparkle and drywall. A little paint. Hardwood floors? She’d read an article about how one woman had built an entire house by herself just by watching YouTube videos.

  Taking out her phone, she started to make notes. The apartments were wired, but they would need light fixtures. Doors would be good. Maybe carpet in the bedrooms? Tile for the bathrooms and kitchens.

  Most appliance stores offered installation with delivery, so she wouldn’t have to worry about that. Everything else seemed doable.

  Very doable.

  Nodding her head in growing excitement, she walked to the window and stared out. Living above a doggie daycare might not sound great to some people, but having a bakery just downstairs was ideal, not to mention they were in the heart of the town. Less than a mile to the north was the bus station that went into the city, and everything a person could possibly need was within walking distance.

  “If you build it, they will come,” she quoted in a low voice. Then, aware that she was alone, she laughed at herself. It grew inside, uncontrolled, until she was in stitches on the floor, tears running down her cheeks for no good reason at all.

  It was therapeutic. When the hysterical laughter finally subsided, she felt strangely cleansed. The renovation project hadn’t even started yet, and she already felt better.

  Nick was a good sheriff. He would bring Kimberly’s killer to justice, and Olivia would get closure.

  If only it was as easy to get closure in other aspects of her life.

  The sun was dipping below the horizon, and with no lights in the apartment, it was getting hard to see. She abandoned the planning and design for the moment (muttering “I’ll be beck!” in her best Schwarzenegger impression as she crossed the threshold) and jogged down the steps to say goodnight to Janelle and collect the dogs. She’d have plenty to do to keep her busy and keep her mind off things.

  5

  A sports game flickered on the television, but Andrew was barely paying attention as he lifted a beer bottle to his lips. Brett’s couch was lumpy and uncomfortable, and there was a strange smell emanating from the carpet, but it didn’t bother him as much as it had the first night he’d crashed.

  Still, he knew how much money Brett made. It was certainly enough to afford a new couch—and a maid.

  “Who’s winning?” Brett asked, plopping down next to him. He followed up the question with a swig from a fresh bottle of his own.

  “Duke,” Andrew muttered. He set his beer down on the coffee table and stretched. “How was your date with Jackie the other night?”

  “Fine.” Brett tipped his bottle back and gave him a sidelong look with his next gulp. Bringing the bottle down again, he ran the back of his hand against his lips and sighed in satisfaction. “Good stuff.” He followed this almost immediately with, “Are you sure you’re okay with me going out with her?”

  Andrew shrugged. “It’s your life. Besides, if it was just “fine,” I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”

  “Okay, it was not just fine. It was great. She’s great, but I can’t talk about this kind of stuff with you. First, I have a reputation to protect. A fourth date is practically unheard of for me. And you’re all miserable and stuff.”

  “I’m not miserable,” Andrew protested.

  Brett snorted. “The only time that you leave this apartment is to go to work, and then it’s just to be miserable at work. Seriously, people are starting to talk. You almost made Cora cry yesterday.”

  “I just don’t feel like socializing, and Cora kept asking me if I was okay. I’m fine.” Andrew knew that he wasn’t fine, but he didn’t want to talk about it.

  Brett got up and snagged Andrew’s keys from the table. With a grim smile, he tossed them to Andrew. “Great. If you’re fine, let’s go out. I’m starting to really like End Game. I could go for some of their awesome curly fries.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Andrew threw the keys back on the table. “Great. You go to End Game. I’m watching my cholesterol levels.”

  Throwing his head back, Brett let out a frustrated moan. “I have never seen anyone more pathetic than you. Andrew, man, you’ve got to go out. Maybe it’ll help you think.”

  “Think about what, Brett? Why don’t you tell me what I should be focusing on?” Andrew’s voice had a hard edge, but before his friend could answer, Andrew’s phone rang. Glaring at Brett, Andrew snagged it and settled back on the couch. “What?”

  “Andrew? It’s Nick. Did I call at a bad time?”

  Rubbing his hand over his unshaven stubble, Andrew closed his eyes. “No—sorry, Nick. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Is everything okay?”

  “Not exactly.” Nick cleared his throat. “Andrew, I know that you and Olivia aren’t together anymore, and I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but I’m a little worried about her.”

  “Worried?” Andrew immediately straightened. “Why? Did something happen?”

  “You know Kimberly Nesbit?”

  The name sounded familiar. Andrew mulled it over until he pictured the attractive middle-aged blonde woman in his head. “Sure. She’s the owner of Rich Eats. She and Olivia are close. She used to be Kimberly Chain, right? Then she got divorced and took back her maiden name?”

  “Yes. She was murdered.”

  “Oh, God.” Imagining Olivia’s pain, Andrew got up and started to pace. “Please tell me that Olivia didn’t find the body.” Brett cocked his head and mouthed what’s going on but Andrew held up his finger.

  Despite the tense situation, Nick chuckled. “No. This time I can honestly say that she’s not involved, but she arrived at the warehouse while we were there, investigating. I don’t think she saw Kimberly’s body, but I’ve never seen her so shaken up. I tried to talk to Janelle and Jackie about it, but they both said that Olivia was avoiding the subject. They said . . .” Nick paused, as if he found the next words confusing, “. . . she’s throwing herself into planning the prom.”

  “Prom?” Andrew said dubiously. “As in the high school prom? Olivia is helping plan it?” Brett started to chuckle, and Andrew shot his friend a murderous look. The last thing he needed was Brett’s two cents.

  “Yeah, I didn’t believe it either when I heard, but apparent
ly, she’s roped them into helping her as well.”

  “If Olivia is planning a high school dance, I can guarantee that someone is blackmailing her into it.”

  “It seems she volunteered.”

  Olivia—volunteered? This conversation was just getting stranger by the second. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing. I just thought you should know. I have a feeling the women have banded together, and I wasn’t sure if you were getting any information. Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Olivia, but I’m sure that you still care about her.”

  “Right. Thank you, Nick. I do appreciate you keeping me in the loop.” Andrew turned to Brett as he hung up the phone. “Is Jackie giving you any information about Olivia?”

  “What?” Brett wrinkled his nose. “Why would we talk about Olivia?”

  “Brett,” Andrew growled. “If you know something—”

  His friend threw up his hands, keeping a firm grip on his half-empty beer bottle. “I don’t. I swear. Jackie made it clear that Olivia was off limits. Did something happen to her?”

  “No, but her friend was killed, and if I know Olivia, she’s going to find herself right in the middle of it. This is the last thing that we need.”

  Brett raised an eyebrow. “We?”

  “Olivia,” Andrew snapped. “You know what I mean. She’s dealing with a lot. She has her new office and . . .” his voice trailed off.

  “The loss of her boyfriend,” Brett filled in softly. “Andrew, you can talk about it, you know. I know how much you love Olivia.”

  “Yeah? Too bad it wasn’t enough.” Reaching down, he grabbed his keys and strode past Brett. He needed to think, and he couldn’t do that with Brett goading him into talking. He hadn’t gone back to Lexingburg since packing up a few of his things and leaving, and he wasn’t ready to go back now. Instead, he decided to just drive around the city.

  It was hard to wrap his mind around the fact that Olivia was voluntarily planning a teen event. Olivia didn’t participate in anything in town if she could help it. She had been roped into the psychic pet event, and Mayor Henderson had tried turning their wedding into a town extravaganza, but she wouldn’t have done any of those things if she could help it. Olivia was a simple woman. She liked her mystery books, her coffee, and her dogs.

  That was one of the reasons Andrew loved her so much. Olivia didn’t play games. She was practical. She said what she felt, even if it didn’t make sense.

  So what was she feeling now?

  Andrew had thought that by walking away, he could free her. He’d trapped her into the wedding, and he had been grateful that he’d realized what he was doing to her before it was too late.

  Maybe he’d thought that she’d call him, and they could figure out how to go from there, but she didn’t. He’d told her that he would try to figure out a way to break the rental contract on the house. The owner was threatening them with a fee that was almost six months of rent, but Andrew was going to find it hard to get a new place if his name was still on another lease.

  He couldn’t live with Brett for the next ten months. It wasn’t good for their friendship—or his sanity.

  The city lights blurred as he drove along, and he felt a fist squeeze his heart.

  Olivia wasn’t going to hide behind the prom forever. When the dust settled, she was going to be angry about her friend’s death.

  Then she was going to get involved.

  With a growl, Andrew swung the car around. He was going to pay Nick a visit and figure out just what Olivia might be getting herself into.

  6

  “Kristy, we’re not breaking the lease. We’re just trying to get Andrew’s name off it so he can rent somewhere else,” Olivia muttered as she put the phone on speaker and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. The reflection staring back at her was pathetic. Her normally olive skin had taken on a paler hue, and the dark circles under her eyes were more prominent. She’d tossed and turned all night long, thinking about poor Kimberly, and she needed to do something to release some of the tension in her body.

  God help her, she was going to go for a run.

  “I’m sorry, Olivia, but the terms are pretty straightforward. There’s nothing I can do. If you take Andrew’s name off the lease, it’s considered a termination. We can draw up a new contract with just you, but the termination clause still applies. He has to give a sixty-day notice, and then it’s a fee of six months’ rent. I’ve spoken to the owners, but they’re not budging.”

  Of course they weren’t budging. Why do something nice when they could make an extra twelve grand? With a grimace, she tugged a t-shirt over her tank top (Run? I thought you said rum!). “Thanks for trying. Can’t you do me a favor and shoot Andrew an email?”

  “Aw, you poor thing,” Kristy cooed, and Olivia focused an angry glare on the phone. The last thing she wanted was sympathy. “I know how hard breakups can be, but open communication is key.”

  Olivia wanted to point out that it wasn’t her job to inform Andrew about the contract termination clause. It was Kristy’s—but she held her tongue. She’d stressed the real estate agent out enough while she’d seesawed, back and forth, on the purchase of the brownstone, and now that they had to find new tenants for upstairs, they might need her again.

  “Still,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’ve got a busy day ahead of me, and I would hate to get the information wrong.”

  “Of course. I’ll speak to him on the matter.” In a sudden change of subject, Kristy dropped her voice and said, “Did you hear about Kimberly? I swear, I have no idea what’s happening to this town.”

  Olivia definitely didn’t want to talk about Kimberly. “I’m sorry to cut this short, Kristy, but I have to go. Thanks!” Ending the call, she practically tripped over Goodwin as she headed for the door. Inserting her headphones, she leashed Goodwin, shoved her keys, phone, and ID into the uncomfortable armband, and headed for the street.

  There were two small paths in her neighborhood. One headed toward the far more expensive community adjacent to hers, where she sometimes explored and drooled all over the houses. The other led down to a wooded walking path and creek. She didn’t explore it as often—Goodwin preferred to run in the dog park—but that was her destination today as she tried out this thing people called running.

  Pop music drowned out the sounds of nature as she started to warm up at a slow pace. Goodwin matched it easily, and she tried to forget all about her problems.

  Unfortunately, it seemed that the more she tried to forget them, the more she dwelled on them. Her heart ached at the loss of Andrew. Her anxiety rose when she thought about the looming property tax payment on the brownstone and the ridiculous task of planning prom. Her mind reeled as she tried to sort through Kimberly’s murder.

  Sweat collected under her armband, and her skin started to itch. Scratching at it, she tried to adjust the Velcro mid-stride, only to take her mind and eyes off the path and stumble over a root. Catching herself, she swore and righted herself. Goodwin took the opportunity to stop and pee, and the leash jerked when she tried to keep going.

  Dog won, and Olivia took a deep breath and perked up as the automatic female voice announced her progress over her headphones.

  “Time—five minutes. Distance—0.41 miles.”

  Not even half a mile? Rats. It felt like she’d been running much farther, for a lot longer. Frowning, she rolled her shoulders and tugged Goodwin back onto the path. Another runner passed them, some cute and perky blonde in a skimpy outfit, and it motivated Olivia through a whole mile before her lungs started to burn. Slowing down to a walk, she gasped for breath.

  Exercise wasn’t a favorite pastime for her, but this was ridiculous. What had she been doing to get so out of shape?

  Oh, yeah. Stealing Janelle’s sweets and lounging on the couch with Andrew.

  The memory of relaxing in those warm, loving arms motivated her through another punishing mile. Goodwin bounded happily along at her side, and
she grunted as sweat trickled down to some uncomfortable places. One of her earbuds fell from her ears, and she gritted her teeth as she fitted it back in.

  Pictures always made runners look so graceful and poised. If anyone saw her right now, they’d probably assume she was dying.

  After losing her earbuds a third time, she yanked them out altogether and let them swing around her neck. Fine. She was tired of hearing the running app tell her that she was running slower and slower.

  When she reached a small clearing, she decided to take a break. Hiding behind the excuse that Goodwin needed to cool off in the stream, she bent, groaning, to undo the leash.

  The sound of someone whistling stopped her cold. Not wanting anyone in town to see her so red-faced and sweaty, she peered cautiously around the bushes and widened her eyes.

  If the huge, hulking frame didn’t give him away, the logo from Chain Sporting Goods did. It was Ballard Chain, the number one MIA suspect in Kimberly’s death. He was peeing in the bushes on the other side of the creek.

  With a small gasp, Olivia ducked even further behind the bush. Ever since she’d found out that Kimberly was dead, she’d been racking her brains to figure out why Ballard was a suspect. Whenever Kimberly spoke about her ex-husband, it was always amicably. From what Olivia could piece together, Kimberly and Ballard had experienced the clichéd seven-year itch, and Kimberly had discovered that her husband had almost cheated on her. Olivia had no idea what that meant, and it had seemed rude to ask for more details. The two had split, but it wasn’t a nasty divorce. The dog-food business went into Kimberly’s name, and Kimberly paid her ex back for the seed money that Ballard had provided to get Rich Eats up and running.

  Kimberly never had a bad thing to say about Ballard. Her ex had his own business, a sporting goods store, and she had hers. Maybe the only reason that Nick was looking at Ballard was because the husband—or ex-husband—was always the first suspect, and Ballard had been suspiciously difficult to find.