by Amy Vansant
“Ooh, we can help you with that,” said Darla.
Mariska nodded. “You know we love playing detective with you.”
“I’m not playing—” Charlotte’s phone rang in her pool bag and she fished for it.
“Hello?”
“It’s Frank. You know those puppies from last night?”
“They’re tied to the millionaire murder.”
Frank paused. “How’d you know that?”
“It was in the paper.”
“It was?”
“Not exactly. I think they hire their reporters directly out of grade school.”
Frank made a snorting noise she took as a laugh. “No, I’m saying the sheriff over there just realized there might be foul play. It couldn’t have been in the paper. Six of those puppies were stolen from the scene of the crime.”
“Six? I have five of them now.”
“Really? Good. How’d you go from three to five?”
“People started showing up at the pool with them.”
“To drown them?”
“What? No! Why would you even say that?”
“I don’t know. Why would people bring puppies to the pool?”
“To show them off.”
Frank grunted. “Oh. Right. That makes more sense.”
Charlotte covered her phone and looked at Darla. “What is wrong with your husband?”
Darla rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started.”
She returned to her call. “Mariska and Darla said they’d help me knock on doors if you want us to find the straggler.”
“Sure. I’ll get Deputy Daniel to help. You can split the work. I’m going over to the mansion right now to turn over what we have. Buddy of mine’s son is the sheriff there. Are you home?”
“I’m at the pool but I’m heading home now. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes? I need to get changed.”
“For what?”
“For coming with you.”
“To the mansion?”
“I’m a part of this case now, aren’t I? I hold the crucial puppy piece of the puzzle.”
Frank chuckled. “If you say so. You can tag along. See you in ten.”
Charlotte hung up.
“We can start knocking on doors when I get back. Frank’s going to the crime scene and I’m going with him. It isn’t often I get to check out actual police crime scenes.”
Mariska balled her fists and, holding one on either side of her chin, shook them. “This is so exciting!”
Charlotte said her goodbyes and gathered the puppy box, grateful she’d driven her own golf cart to the pool and didn’t have to borrow Mariska’s and leave the ladies stranded. They’d need a way to get away if another fight broke out. Or maybe Mariska would need a vehicle to drag Darla away from the fight.
On the way back to her house she called the local vet and asked them to be on the lookout for the sixth puppy. Whoever found it might decide it’s a good idea to get it checked out.
Charlotte screeched to a stop in her driveway, burst into her home, set the puppies on the ground and changed out of her bathing suit. Abby sat in the doorway scowling as best she could. Not only had her mommy returned with those darn puppies, but she could tell she was rushing to leave again. A double insult.
Ten minutes later, Charlotte was dressed and sitting in the passenger seat of Frank’s cruiser. Abby watched them pull away from the window she could reach by hopping on the bed.
“Any leads on the sixth dog?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Not yet. I can tell you I practically had to wrestle the fifth one out of Janice Rocco’s hands. If whoever has the sixth dog hears the other women had to turn in their puppies, we’ll have to worry about them going into hiding.”
“If I see a puppy wearing fake mustache, I’ll let you know.”
Charlotte laughed. “How about Alice? Any new leads there?”
“No. It’s an accidental death for now.”
“Hm.” Charlotte considered telling Frank about how she’d discussed searching Alice’s pantry with Mariska and Darla, but decided against it. At the time, she’d considered the conversation about breaking in tongue-in-cheek, but the fact she didn’t want to share the joke with Frank meant she was seriously considering it.
Why do I do these things to myself?
She pushed the idea into the back of her mind.
For now.
Frank pulled onto the long driveway of the Miller Estate and crunched down the gravel drive toward a large two-story brick home nestled in the center of fenced horse pastures. Horses picked up their heads and pricked their ears to investigate their arrival before returning to their grass-munching.
“Beautiful property,” said Charlotte.
Frank nodded as he rolled to a stop behind several other police vehicles parked in the large stone driveway at the front of the house. “Yep. From what I understand, it should all go to the nieces now. That’s probably them. Twins. He took them in when his brother and his wife were killed by a drunk driver.”
He pointed in the direction of a young lady trotting around an exercise ring on the back of a fine-boned chestnut gelding. The horse’s mane lined its curved neck in neat braided bunches. Behind her, at the far end of the ring, another girl stood with another horse. It was similar in color and equally as gorgeous as the first, but with a star of white in the center of its forehead. The girl held a long lead, at the end of which her horse circled, spurred by the long whip in her hand that she lowered but never snapped. Apparently, just knowing the whip was long enough to reach was enough to keep the animal moving.
Charlotte exited the car and the girl riding trotted to the closest fence. Charlotte guessed her to be in her late teens.
“You’re not a cop,” said the girl.
“No, but I play one on TV.”
The space between the rider’s eyes scrunched. “What?”
“Just kidding. I have your puppies.”
“What? How?”
The girl seemed surprised but not particularly excited, which Charlotte found odd. If she’d lost a box full of puppies, she’d be over the moon to have them returned.
She wrestled the box of squirming dogs from the cruiser to show the girl, who stared down at them from her perch. Her mount gave the puppies a quick glance with its large brown eyes and then returned to playing with the bit between its teeth.
“Someone dropped them off on the doorsteps of my neighbors.”
The girl scowled. “That doesn’t make any sense. I missed a show because of all this.” She shook her head and pulled her horse away from the fence, giving the beast a kick with her black-booted heels. The horse took a few long strides and then broke into a slow canter as she steered him toward the girl Charlotte presumed to be her sister. The animal at the end of the lunge line stopped and the two girls spoke. Both sets of eyes turned to stare at Charlotte, but a moment later the starred mount returned to its circling and the rider continued practicing.
Okey-dokey.
Any dreams Charlotte had of being hailed a puppy-finding hero had galloped away into the sunset. Frank had gone ahead and was already entering the home. She jogged to catch up with him, doing her best not to jostle the pups.
The floor of the mansion’s great foyer was laid with alternating black and white squares of what looked like marble. Someone had thrown several ratty rugs on the floor just inside the door and Charlotte used one to wipe her flip flops on. She suddenly felt very underdressed in shorts and a polo. Officers milled around the foyer in their uniforms looking very official. At the top of the center staircase was a landing, from which another officer stared down at her. Charlotte guessed the bedroom where they’d found the owner of the home was located at the top of those stairs.
“Hey, Frank, glad you could come by,” said a tall sheriff in his mid-forties as he thrust out a hand to shake.
“Hey, Carter.”
Sheriff Carter’s gaze shifted to Charlotte as he and Frank shook their hellos.
Frank turned and for a moment seemed surprised to find her standing there.
“Oh, this is Charlotte. She—” Frank stopped, seeming to search for the right words to describe her. “She’s got the puppies.”
Charlotte held out the box for Carter to see. “All but one. I’ll probably round up the spare by the end of the day.”
“You found them roaming?”
“No. Someone dropped them on the doorsteps of the Pineapple Port residents. I think someone hasn’t come forward with the sixth.”
“Huh.” Carter took the box. “Mina!”
A plump woman in a conservative black maid’s uniform appeared where the foyer turned into a living room at the back of the entrance. She wiped her hands on her white apron and looked at Carter expectantly.
“These your puppies?”
Mina moved to the box and gasped. “They are. Where did you find them?” She took the box from him as Carter nodded his head in Charlotte’s direction.
“This little lady found them down the road at Pineapple Port.”
Charlotte smiled at the woman but inside her brain growled.
Little lady. Grr.
“I don’t understand. What’s Pineapple Port?” asked Mina setting the box on the ground beside her.
“It’s a retirement community. Someone left them on my neighbors’ doorsteps.”
“Someone? Did you see who?”
“No.”
“Did you say neighbors?” asked Carter. “She your daughter, Frank?”
Frank laughed and Charlotte thought she caught him blushing. “In a way maybe,” he said, winking at Charlotte. “But no. It’s a long story.”
Mina’s attention dropped to the box. “There’s one missing.”
“There is.” Charlotte pulled a card from her pocket and handed it to Mina. “I’m a private investigator. We hope to have the missing dog soon.”
Mina reached to take her card and then recoiled. “I didn’t hire a private investigator.”
“No. The two things are mutually exclusive in this case.”
Mina looked down at the card in Charlotte’s outstretched hand as if it might bite her.
“I just wanted you to have my number in case you want to check on progress or if you need anything in the future.”
There. That was subtle, right? I didn’t actually say in case Kimber Miller was murdered.
Mina took the card. “Thank you.”
Charlotte began to feel the weight of other eyes on her, so she nodded and took a step back. She glanced at Frank. “I’ll wait outside.”
Charlotte wandered back to the cruiser.
Well, that went well. The big strapping sheriff calls me ‘little lady’ and then the maid acts as if my card is radioactive. Charlotte felt about ten years old from the beginning to the end of the whole exchange.
Outside, the girl lunging her horse had disappeared. The rider had dismounted. A new woman stood beside her horse quickly unbraiding its mane, running her fingers through the wavy hair to fluff it as she went. She spotted Charlotte and smiled.
“She brought the puppies back,” said the rider. With a toss of her hair, she strode toward the gate. “Take him to the barn when you’re done.”
The woman at the braids watched the girl leave and then turned back to Charlotte to offer a second smile, this one seemingly apologetic. Whereas the rider had every hair in place, her riding breeches spotless and her white sleeveless blouse crisp, this woman seemed frazzled. Though older than the girl by maybe ten years, she was shorter, with broken strands of dark blonde hair escaping her ponytail and encircling her head like spun sugar. As she turned, Charlotte noticed she only wore only one earring.
A small silver sphere.
Charlotte thrust a hand into her pocket and fingered the matching earring in there. She’d brought it to remind herself to tell Frank about it, and then had forgotten anyway.
“Sorry, Payne isn’t a big dog person. I’m Lyndsey. You brought the dogs back?”
Charlotte nodded, unable to shake Lyndsey’s hand through the fence without making things awkward for both of them. “I’m Charlotte. I brought back all but one, but I think we’ll have number six soon.”
“That’s amazing. Thank you so much. I was so worried about them.”
“You’re missing an earring.” Charlotte pinched her own right earlobe to indicate which ear. Lyndsey mirrored the motion.
“Oh shoot. I love these. Thanks.” Lyndsey glanced at the house and then looked around the dusty earth beneath her boots. “If it’s out here, it’s gone.”
“Do you want me to help you look?”
“No. They’re not expensive. Thanks though.”
Charlotte spotted Payne walking from the barn toward the main residence. “They’re twins, aren’t they? The girls? His nieces?”
Lyndsey nodded. “You’d never know it from their personalities though.”
“Very different?”
“Very. Payne lives up to her name and Gemma’s the quiet one.”
“It seems all the twins I meet have a more dominating one.”
“I suppose there’s naturally an alpha, like a little dog pack in the womb.” Lyndsey chuckled to herself and unbraided the last bunch of mane. “Thanks for bringing back the puppies. Mr. Miller would have been so happy to know they’re safe.”
A sadness washed over the woman’s expression and she stared at the ground as if lost in thought.
“Are you a relative?” asked Charlotte.
“Hm? Oh, no. Not exactly. I’m a worker bee they took into the hive.”
“But you’ve been here a long time?”
Lyndsey smoothed the horse’s mane. “Since I was young. He took me in when my mother—” She cut short and shrugged. “She got into some trouble. She couldn’t take care of me anymore.”
“He adopted you?”
“Not officially, but in so many words.”
“You work with the horses?”
“Yes. That and odd errands here and there.”
“Do you work with the dogs?”
Lyndsey laughed. “No. I’d like to, but no one is allowed to touch the dogs except Mr. Miller, Mina and the groomer.”
Really… Charlotte rolled the earring in her pocket between her fingers.
“Mr. Miller took in the nieces when his sister died, too, didn’t he? He must have been a nice guy to have taken care of you all.”
Lyndsey nodded. “Yes. He was a generous man.” She took the horses reins in hand. “I’m going to head back to the barn. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Charlotte headed back to the house, where it seemed everyone had gathered on the great covered porch. Mina the maid, the two sheriffs, and both twins stood talking. She leaned against Frank’s cruiser, close enough to overhear.
“But I don’t understand why you’re here,” she heard Payne say as she approached. The other twin, Gemma, stood quietly with her hands folded in front of her, seemingly uninterested in the proceedings.
“You don’t think it’s a coincidence that Mr. Miller died the same night a litter of puppies went missing?” asked Carter.
“It is weird,” mumbled Gemma, glaring at Mina.
Mina seemed flustered and looked away.
“He was just old.” Payne smacked her sister’s arm. “All this fuss is your fault for mentioning the puppies.”
Gemma flinched. “Ow. Cut it out.”
Payne threw her head back and stared at the porch’s ceiling. “Can we go now? It’s hot.”
Sheriff Carter nodded. Mina looked at him with the same apologetic expression Lyndsey had offered Charlotte. Clearly, apologizing for Payne’s bad behavior was a common occurrence around the Miller household.
Payne turned on her heel and stalked into the house and Gemma trailed after her.
“She’s upset about Kimber’s death,” mumbled Mina.
Charlotte’s ears perked. Kimber. Strange for the maid to c
all Miller by his first name.
Carter handed Mina a card. “If you have any questions give me a call.”
Mina nodded and took the card. Instantly. Without hesitation.
Charlotte scowled.
Mina turned for the door and left them on the porch.
“Whaddya think?” asked Carter as he and Frank walked to where Charlotte had stationed herself by the car.
“No sign of a struggle. Guess the old man fell, unless the coroner tells us otherwise. Maybe he heard someone stealing the dogs and got flustered. It’s weird Mina never mentioned the dogs were missing, though. It took Gemma asking about them for us to realize they were gone.”
“Did you ask her why she left that part out?” asked Frank.
Carter shrugged. “She said she just didn’t notice. She was too upset, there was too much going on…the usual.”
Frank looked at Charlotte. “Who was that you were talking to in the horse ring?”
“Her name’s Lyndsey. She works with the horses, but she’s been here since she was young. Said Miller took her in as a girl.”
“Adopted her? Like the nieces?”
Charlotte shook her head. “She didn’t say adopted. Called herself a worker bee accepted into the hive.”
Carter grunted. “So you don’t think she’d be up for anything in the will? Lots of money in play here.”
Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know. But—”
Frank cocked an eyebrow. “What? You’ve got that look on your face like you’re on to something.”
Charlotte fished the earring from her pocket.
“One of the dogs had this in its stool.”
Frank had been about to take the earring from her and he retracted his hand.
Charlotte huffed. “It’s okay. I washed it.”
Carter held out a palm and she dropped it into it.
“An earring?”
“A matching earring. Lyndsey was only wearing one just now. One that looks just like this.”
“You don’t say. So she’s been around the puppies recently.”
“Seems like it. She also thanked me for finding the puppies, but never asked me where I found them or if we caught who stole them.”
Carter looked at the house. “Mina did. The girls didn’t. Aren’t little girls supposed to love puppies?”