by Cat Clayton
How to Kennel a Killer
Sleuthin’ in Boots, Book 2
CAT CLAYTON
How to Kennel a Killer
Sleuthin’ in Boots, Book 2
© 2021 Cat Clayton
Cover Illustration by @bananicaart
Cover Design by CCM
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States by Pigasaus Publications
www.catclayton.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
How to Kennel a Killer (Sleuthin' in Boots, #2)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Other books by Cat Clayton
How to Leash a Thief, Sleuthin’ in Boots, Book 1
How to Fetch a Felon, Sleuthin’ in Boots, Book 3—Aug. 2021
How to Muzzle a Murderer, Sleuthin’ in Boots, Book 4—Sept. 2021
Praise for Steely & Cuff Mysteries:
“Mysterious fun in Small Town, Texas!” ~ Amazon Reviewer
“Grab a cup of coffee, a piece of pie, and snuggle
up with Steely & Cuff!” ~Goodreads Reviewer
“Steely & Cuff—crime-solving duo!” ~Amazon Reviewer
To Jessica, my firstborn, and the inspiration behind the sassy,
camo boot-wearing and strong-willed Steely Lamarr.
How to Kennel a Killer
Chapter 1
Staring at the single name on the roster for the Halloween pet costume contest, I concluded if we didn’t get more entries, there wouldn’t be a contest. And no contest meant zero donations to the Pleasant Hills Animal Rescue, a long-standing, annual goal of Scrubadub.
Think, Steely. Normally, a week before our shop’s costume contest, folks flooded us with entries. But not this year. Why?
The desk phone rang, startling me. The caller ID read Pleasant Hills City Library. Petunia Jinks, the one person who’d signed up her pet for the contest.
“Scrubadub, Three Pups in a Tub. Steely speaking.”
“Hi, it’s Petunia. I need to discuss something about the pet parade and a costume contest.”
Did I tell her Patches was the only dog signed up and there may not be a contest? There was no reason to dampen her spirits, too.
“What can I do for you?”
She cleared her throat. “Well, I had a rather unpleasant visit this morning from Vivienne Peacock about the event.”
When were visits from Mrs. Peacock ever pleasant?
“Regarding what exactly?” I asked.
“Vivienne had the nerve to ask me not to enter Patches this year. She claims nobody stands a chance against us, and after four years of winning the pet costume award, I should withdraw our entry. She even started a petition to get us booted out,” she said, panting.
And there’s our culprit for people not signing up for the event. Vivienne Peacock.
“Well, Vivienne doesn’t get to dictate who signs up. Don’t pay her any mind,” I said.
She grunted and panted more.
“Are you okay, Petunia?”
“Not really. I went running this morning with Lizzie Madden, and now I’m sprucing up the flower beds for the parade. I can’t seem to catch my breath. I’m feeling exhausted and a tad nauseous.”
“Maybe you ought to take a break. Rest a bit,” I said.
“Good idea. I had some coffee after the run, and maybe it’s not agreeing with me. Anyway, if you don’t think I should worry about what Vivienne said, I’ll disregard it,” she replied.
More panting came through the phone, followed by a few curse words and rushing water. “Oh dear! I need to go. It seems I have a problem!”
“Okay. We’ll talk—”
The call disconnected.
A few seconds later, the phone rang again. Pleasant Hills City Library.
“Scrubadub, Steely speaking.”
Heavy breathing sounded in my ear. A grunt. And then, silence.
“Petunia? Are you there? What’s wrong?”
The line went dead.
I surveyed the lobby full of clients, hoping I didn’t cause anyone alarm. Everyone either had their nose glued to their phone screen or a magazine.
Petunia probably carried the library phone in her pocket. Maybe she butt-dialed by accident. It happens. To put my mind at ease, I dialed the library’s phone number. The phone rang four times and the automated voicemail picked up. I left a message for Petunia to call me back.
I glanced at the dog clock on the wall. 10:45 AM. I could wait around for her to call me back, or I could walk over to the library and make sure everything was okay. To put my mind at ease, I chose the latter.
I hopped down from the stool and hollered to the back.
“Gertie! Daniel! I’m running over to the library to check on Petunia!” I called to my grandmother and assistant in the back groom room.
Cuff slid around the corner on wet paws and collided into the front desk.
You cannot leave me behind, Chiquita!
Cuff, my cheeky Chihuahua, was a literal little guy. Ever since we’d gotten tangled up, and I took a nose-dive into a wooden desk, I’d been able to hear his thoughts. Some kind of strange accident-induced telepathy. Although, some days, I wondered if I hadn’t lost my marbles and it was all in my head.
“Fine, you can come with,” I said as the front door opened with a jingle.
Wren and Lotus breezed in, ten minutes late for their appointment. Wren owned No Place Like OM, a yoga studio a few doors down. Her lab and pit mix was a total sweetheart. I smiled and walked back inside along with them.
“So sorry we’re late, Steely!” Wren’s voice tinkled. Dressed for work, she wore a teal sarong wrapped around a trendy yoga outfit. Her feet were bare, as usual. She breezed up to the counter.
“Hi, Wren. No worries. How’s the studio?” I asked her, checking the computer screen. Lotus had a 10:40 AM appointment, a Daniel’s Delight.
I’d only seen Wren a few times since my near-death encounter with her ex-fling. Blake Welton—who’d covered up a murder his uncle committed, and robbed a bank—had tried abducting me once I figured out whodunit. I’d taken my position as head of the Citizens on the Watch program very seriously. I still did. Maybe a little too seriously.
Wren grinned and pulled out a piece of paper from her sling bag. “You are totally signing up for my next beginner’s class. I’m insisting!” She pushed the paper in front of me.
I really don’t have time for t
his. I need to get to the library.
“Oh, you think so, huh?” I wasn’t the most flexible of people. I scanned the flyer. “I don’t know, Wren. I’m not much for stretching and I have a lot going—”
“You must! Please! Nobody has signed up for it yet. Ever since my unfortunate relationship with that no-good murdering bank robber, nobody new will sign up! It’s so upsetting,” she said, her eyes woeful. “I’m usually so good at reading people. I didn’t know I was dating a murderer.”
“Don’t feel bad. Blake Welton had everyone fooled. But I’m sorry your business is suffering.” I set the flyer to the side. “What day and time is the beginner class?”
“Mondays at 5:30 PM. You don’t even need a mat, I have plenty,” she said.
“Guess I have no excuse. Sign me up. And I’ll try to get Daniel to sign up, too.”
“Really?! Oh, my goodness! That would be fabulous!” she squealed.
“I can’t make any promises for Daniel, but I’ll be there Monday,” I said. I had three days to get flexible, or I’d make a total fool of myself. “Now, I need to run. Daniel will be out for Lotus soon.”
“Can’t make any promises for me about what?” Daniel sashayed into the lobby. “Lotus, my beauty queen!” He bent over and gave her black, silky coat a rub down.
“Yoga. Mondays. You in?” I asked him, attempting to head for the door. Cuff figured-eighted between my legs.
I am going, Chiquita. Do not leave me!
“Yoga? I’m down!” Daniel said. “Get it? Downward dog.”
“Punny,” I said.
“I’m in, too!” Gertie added as she rounded the corner. “So long as I can borrow some yoga pants, Steely. Your Pop threw all my leggings in the trash.”
As he well should have. My Gramma Gertie had a thing for wearing clothes that didn’t fit her or were inappropriate for her age. I’m sure I had something in my closet to accommodate her, something not see-through or too tight.
I gave her a thumbs up regarding the yoga pants.
Good thing she cannot get to your boots any longer.
When I didn’t have my beloved camo boots on, I kept them hidden upstairs in a closet. Now that we lived above the shop, and not at Pop’s house with him and Gertie, she no longer had free access to my things.
“Oh, this will be wonderful!” Wren said. “I’ll be back after my next class to pick up Lotus. Namaste!”
“We’ll see you later,” I said.
“Nama-stay!” Gertie hollered in her southern twang as Wren twinkle-toed out the door. “She’s sweet. And speakin’ of sweet, when’s lunch? I’m hungry.”
Aren’t you always? I thought. “After we finish up appointments and I return from the library. Daniel, if you’ll take Lotus back, I’ll check the others in on the computer and put them in their kennels before I leave.”
Still waiting in the lobby, Ms. Chen, a young high school English teacher with long, silky black hair, gripped a brown leather leash. A stunning rust-colored Doberman pinscher sat obediently at her side. Princess, who should’ve been named Demon, growled at Mr. Walton and Sid, the “stinky” black lab sitting across the room.
“Mr. Walton. Ms. Chen. We can take the pups back now. It’ll be about two hours for Sid and one hour for Princess. I can call you or you can swing by and check in with us.”
Ms. Chen stood, tugging on Princess’s leash as she approached the counter. “Heel.” Princess immediately pressed herself up against Ms. Chen’s right leg and gave Sid a tooth-barring growl.
Mr. Walton remained in his seat, pulling on Sid’s leash. If Sid cared about Princess’s growl, he didn’t react. His tail wagged and his pink tongue dangled to the side of his mouth as he panted.
The last thing we wanted in the lobby was a dogfight, so I made a proactive move. “Hey, pretty Princess!” I said to the Doberman, attempting to make friends with her.
Princess wagged her docked tail. Her short-cropped ears perked in my direction. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to lick me or bite me.
“I’ll see you after lunch, Princess,” Ms. Chen said and handed me the short leash. “I’m debating whether to enter Princess in the pet costume contest benefitting the rescue society. I’d be happier if I knew Petunia Jinks wasn’t entering her dog Patches. They always win. Vivienne asked me to sign a petition about Petunia; she has quite a few signatures, you know.”
I frowned and directed Princess behind the counter, so she’d quit eyeballing Sid with an I’m-gonna-eat-you glare. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I can’t ask Petunia to step down. She’s the only one who’s signed up. And for the record, even if Vivienne gets a thousand people to sign her petition, it won’t matter. Ultimately, it’s our decision here at Scrubadub.”
“I bet if she backs out, you’d have the whole town sign up. We’re all tired of Patches winning the costume contest year after year. You let me know if she changes her mind. Then, I’ll reconsider our entry,” Ms. Chen said as she pivoted, turning to leave. The bell on the door jingled as it closed behind her.
I needed to go check on Petunia. The peculiar hang-up call had me worried. But even stranger, was the fact she didn’t call me back, and when I rang the library, my call went straight to voicemail. A sense of urgency settled in my bones.
“Mr. Walton, give me two minutes to walk Princess back to a kennel. Then I’ll grab Sid,” I said. I held the leash at an arm’s length and watched the Doberman’s every move.
Mr. Walton nodded. “Sure thing, Ms. Steely. Don’t you worry; I’m in no hurry. And as for Petunia Jinks and Patches, I feel the same way as Ms. Chen. Nobody stands a chance if Patches enters.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Walton.”
He smiled and returned his attention to the TV mounted on the wall.
After I had the dogs situated, Cuff, and I hightailed it out the front door and padded down the sidewalk. A solution to our pet contest entry problem occurred to me. Now, if I could convince Petunia to go along with my plan of her judging instead of entering, it’d be a win-win for everyone.
DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF the library, we had to jump across a stream of water rushing down the curb of Caldwell Street. The water flooded the yard in front of the library. A handful of patrons waited by the glass doors. A Closed sign hung in the window.
I glanced at my cell phone to check the time. 11:15 AM. The library rarely closed unless Petunia had to run errands, and she usually took care of those on her lunch break. Her normal lunch hour was from noon to 1 PM.
“Between the phone call earlier and the library being closed, something feels wrong,” I whispered to Cuff as we approached the concrete steps leading to the front doors.
Cuff put his nose to the sky and sniffed. I smell nothing wrong, but then again, the fall breeze is strong today.
He was right. The winds from the October cool front that had blown in this morning were still gusting at about twenty miles an hour.
I glanced to the right side of the yard where the water seemed to stream from, the grass saturated. Petunia, the head librarian, was also a gardener and very concerned about the environment. Not exactly the kind of person to waste water.
“Hey, y’all! Anyone seen Ms. Jinks?” I asked the curious patrons near the entrance. I didn’t want to alert anyone to my unease, so I kept my voice as upbeat as possible.
Several shook their heads in response. One young mother with two small children spoke up.
“YOR was supposed to start at 11 AM, but the doors are locked,” she said.
YOR, Young Ones Read, encouraged small children to explore the world of picture books. Petunia never no-showed. She loved her job. I approached the front doors and peered in the windows. The lights were off and not a soul stirred behind the locked doors.
“Anyone check around back in the gardens?” I asked the group. “I bet she’s sprucing up the landscaping since we’re holding the pet costume contest here.”
“I didn’t want to get my shoes soaked,” said a young mother with a toddle
r perched on her hip.
“Me either,” another mother said. A young boy tugged on her hand.
“I gotta potty,” the little boy said.
“Can you wait a little longer?” she asked him.
He nodded.
“I’ll take a look,” I said, clicking my tongue for Cuff to follow me. “Come on, boy.”
As I stepped off the paved sidewalk and into the spongy, wet grass, I’m happy I opted out of wearing my spiked camo boots, and instead, I had on a pair of old-school Justin Ropers. I tucked my skinny jeans inside the calf-high kicks and squished across the lawn. As I rounded the corner of the library, I didn’t see Petunia anywhere.
I am not getting a very good feeling, Chiquita.
“Me either,” I said. “Petunia? You back there?” I called out.
I heard rushing water, and it sounded as if it were coming from further around back. My gut instinct told me to press on. It also told me that something bad had happened to Petunia.
As I entered the back gardens, I froze.
Water gushed out of the broken-off spigot. Unattached, the green garden hose sprawled out like a snake in a pool of water. I noticed a giant pipe wrench positioned on the ground under the nozzle. Several feet away from the flooding scene, Petunia Jinks lay in a crumpled heap.
Oh no, Chiquita!
“Petunia!” I yelled as I dashed toward her. Careful not to move her in case she’d injured herself, I kneeled. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were parted slightly on a pale, angelic face. The librarian looked as if she were in a peaceful slumber, but somehow I knew she was dead before even trying to find a pulse. My fingers trembled as I pulled down a white silk scarf and put two fingers to the side of her neck. I moved them around a few times to make sure. Nothing.
Chiquita, call the police. Cuff nudged my hand.
I noticed what appeared to be a business card near her body. I carefully plucked it from the mud and read it. It was Buzz McCoy’s card. He owned and operated a taxidermy shop on the outskirts of town, but he was also a licensed plumber. Given the current circumstances, I guessed she’d called Buzz about the water issue.
I shoved the card in my purse and scooted away from the body, sitting back on the wet pavement. I shivered when the water soaked through the backside of my jeans. I noticed a spilled pint of strawberries on the ground close to Petunia, the green plastic container tipped on its side. I focused on a large, ripe strawberry laying on the ground, its dark green leaves ruffled around the top. They were from Donny Thomas's bike basket garden, and I knew this because I’d bought a pint early this morning from him. He’d asked me if I knew of anyone hiring, and I’d directed him over to ask Petunia if she needed any help.