How to Kennel a Killer

by Cat Clayton

  Died. Cuff finished for me.

  Yeah, that.

  I forked a bite of Dutch apple pie from Baker’s Bliss in my mouth. The sweet apple and cinnamon blend made for good medicine. When I hadn’t made it back for lunch, Gertie and Daniel ran to grab food and brought it back. When I’d returned from the library, pie awaited me like a warm embrace with its rich, buttery crust.

  “Where’s Patches?” Daniel asked, running the hose down Pablo’s back. The scruffy mutt in the tub looked utterly miserable.

  “Oh gosh, I didn’t see her at the library. Didn’t Petunia usually take her to work?”

  “I think so,” Daniel said. “Gertie, toss me two towels, and can someone switch on the dryer?”

  Gertie threw him the towels, and I stood and turned on the dryer hose. Daniel patted Pablo down with the towels and set him on the floor. Daniel clipped the leash to a hook on the wall and pulled the hose closer to the dog. Pablo stood there, giving us his most pathetic puppy dog eyes, while Daniel blew him dry.

  “I’ll run back over to the library and check. If Patches is there, I can bring her back with me,” I hollered and headed for the front door.

  Pop stood in the front lobby when I rounded the corner, looking bewildered and dressed like he had a date.

  “Oh hi, Pop!”

  A bouncy black and white border collie searched the room, sniffing everything in sight.

  Patches.

  “Look who I found wandering the sidewalk out front,” Pop said.

  “Petunia’s dog,” I replied. “So, I’m guessing you heard.” I searched his face looking for a sign he knew about the town librarian. His pale blue eyes blinked. “No?”

  “What are you talking about, Steels?”

  Patches put her nose to the ground and made a mad dash toward the groom room.

  “Watch out, guys! Here comes Patches!” I called back to Gertie and Daniel.

  Barking chaos erupted. At least it was friendly barking from what I could tell.

  I turned back to Pop and studied the on-his-way-somewhere attire. Dark grey slacks and a light blue golf polo. His black boots were spit-shined. The gold watch my mother had given him a few years before she’d passed away adorned his left wrist.

  “Where are you headed?” I asked him.

  “You answer my question first. You’re guessing I heard what?” Pop asked, a perplexed expression spread across his face. “You’re being cryptic, which tells me what you have to say is bad news.”

  How did one go about informing their father they’ve stumbled upon another dead body? Simple. Spit it out.

  “I found Petunia dead in the gardens behind the library.”

  Chapter 3

  After my involvement with the bank robbery and murders three months ago, my ex-chief of police Pop had made me promise to be careful and try not to get into precarious situations.

  In my defense, I didn’t exactly get involved with Petunia’s death on purpose. It sort of just happened.

  He didn’t say a word, and he stood there with a blank expression on his face.

  “Pop, did you hear me?”

  He backed up to the row of chairs slowly. He reached down with his hands and lowered himself into a chair. Sad eyes met mine.

  “We, uh... we went on a date last night,” he said.

  Say what? “I didn’t know you two were seeing each other,” I said. I reached up and felt for Mama’s locket around my neck. “Or that you were dating other women.” How long had it been since Mama had died? A little over a year? It seemed too soon. But who am I to judge?

  “We weren’t seeing each other. It was our first date,” he said. “But now she’s gone.” He sighed.

  “If I’d known... I mean, I shouldn’t have blurted it out.”

  He ran a hand over his salt and pepper hair. “Sorry, Steels. I wasn’t keeping anything from you. I thought I’d wait to see how our date went first.”

  “And, how did it go?”

  He frowned. “It’s a moot point now.” The sadness vanished from his eyes like a light switch. His ability to compartmentalize his feelings was admirable. “I came here to tell you I’m heading out of town for a few days. To Houston.”

  My ears perked up. “Is it about the pictures mailed to you?” It’d been three months since he’d received strange photos he believed had something to do with Stoney, my older sister who’d vanished fifteen years ago. “Have they found something?”

  “That’s what I need to find out. My buddies down at the Houston Police Department may have found a lead. They called this morning and asked me to drive in,” he said, standing up. “I came to ask if Gertie and Virgil could stay with you while I’m gone. I’d leave her at the house, but I don’t want her to burn it down, if you know what I mean.”

  Gertie seemed to have a thing for fire lately. At the beginning of the year, Gertie’d caught her hair on fire, lighting a cigarette over her gas stove burner. She’d moved into a retirement center at the edge of town, but when she set the bathroom trash on fire, they kicked her out and she moved in with Pop.

  “I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be fine at the house,” Gertie said as she strolled into the front lobby, puffing on her red vape thingy she’d named Big Red. She blew out a long exhale of steam. “Besides, there’s only one bedroom upstairs. Steely doesn’t have room.”

  Pop gave her a stern look. “Steely, you let her do that inside?”

  I gave a shrug. “For now. My next goal is getting her on the gum. And, Gertie, I have plenty of room. It’ll be like a slumber party.”

  “Thanks, Steels. I owe you one,” Pop said.

  “I don’t chew gum and slumber party my ass,” Gertie said.

  I pointed to the swear jar.

  Gertie dug into her smock pocket. “Sheesh, it’s like I’m a child getting their hand slapped.” She dropped a quarter in the mason jar and stormed out of the room.

  Seconds later, Daniel bounded out of the groom room with Pablo, Patches, Virgil, and Cuff. Pablo had a yellow bandana bow tied around his neck. Patches had all the boys in a tizzy. Tails wagged as they took turns smelling her hind end.

  The front door bell jingled when Pablo’s owner arrived.

  “Oh, he looks adorable!” his owner said.

  Pablo greeted her with lots of kisses and excited whining.

  “Perfect timing. He’s all done,” I told her.

  Pop came over and gave me a tight hug. “I’ve gotta run. You have your key so Gertie can get in to grab some clothes. If I were you, I’d watch her pack,” he whispered to me.

  “I heard that,” Gertie said as she popped back in the lobby. “And I’ll be fine. I can borrow Steely’s clothes.”

  Over my dead body, I thought.

  Not funny, Chiquita.

  “Daniel, can you take care of Pablo? I’m walking Pop out,” I said.

  “Sure thing,” Daniel replied in his usual chipper tone.

  Outside, I followed Pop across the street to his Jeep. “You gonna be okay?”

  He pressed his remote to unlock his vehicle. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you as soon as I hear something,” he said.

  “Anything. If you hear anything. No matter how big or small. I want to hear from you. Okay?”

  He bent down and kissed my forehead. “I’ll call you.”

  “Hey, Pop?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you know about Buzz McCoy?” I asked.

  His eyes narrowed, and he peered over his glasses. “Why?”

  His stern expression made me uneasy, like I was a ten-year-old again. “How well do you know him?”

  “I know he runs You Snuff ‘Em, We Stuff ‘Em, and he does plumbing on the side. And other than being out at his shooting range to sight in my rifle a time or two, that’s about it. Why? What’s up?” Pop asked.

  “I found his business card next to Petunia. I’m wondering if he knows anything about her death.”

  Pop frowned. “Steely, where’s your pistol? You are carrying
it, right?”

  “It’s in a shoebox up in my closet. I’m just not ready yet.” I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, I thought. Holding it, even being near it, made me uneasy.

  “What happened to your mother on duty was a freak accident. She wouldn’t want this for you. She wouldn’t want you to live your life in fear of guns. You grew up with two cops as parents. You’ve been around guns all your life.” He reached over and squeezed my shoulder.

  “I know. I’ll think about it,” I said, wanting to change the subject. “About Buzz, anything else?”

  Pop sighed. “Well, I know he and Petunia were on opposite sides of the playing field with animals. She loved them, and he, well, he’s a hunter.” He opened his door and climbed in. “I need to get on the road. I’ll check in soon with you. I know better than to ask you to stay out of this, so please be careful.” He pulled the Jeep door closed and started the engine.

  On opposite playing fields? Opposite enough to kill her?

  DANIEL SCOOTED OUT the back door and made me promise to call him if I heard any news regarding Petunia’s suspicious death. Gertie and I waited on Lizzie Madden to pick up Patches before we closed the shop for the day. Petunia Jinks had been single, living alone, and we weren’t sure what to do with her dog. So, we called in a favor from her good friend.

  Cuff, Virgil, and Patches were dead asleep on the cool tile floor. Their afternoon romp had left them wiped out.

  “It won’t be that bad, ya know,” I said from behind the counter. Ever since Pop had announced he’d be away for a few days and he wanted Gertie to stay here, she’d been moping.

  Gertie frowned, sitting in one of the lobby chairs. She didn’t look up from her cell phone. An index finger worked the screen, while a crossed leg pumped up and down.

  “You promise not to cramp my style?” she asked.

  I pinched my lips closed to keep from laughing. “Whatever are you talking about? And what has you so engaged on your phone?”

  She jerked her head up, her denim blues blinking. “See what I mean? You’re gettin’ into my business.”

  “I’m not getting in your business,” I said. “Curiosity is my nature. You should know, I take after you.”

  “If you have to know, I’m playing “Words with Friends.” It’s a game on my phone. You can play with other people and I’m beating the pants off of Cleo,” she said, grinning.

  “I’m glad to see you two have become better friends,” I said.

  “We can chat, too. I like that part,” she said, tapping away.

  I referred to Cleo as Mr. Peters. He owned Pleasant Hills Hardware and was recovering from a gambling addiction. Gertie had met him back in the day when they played Texas Hold ‘em. Now, they were on a bowling league called the Gutter Nutters which kept them both out of trouble and out of the poker lounge above Dickie’s Bar.

  “Gertie, what do you know about Buzz McCoy?” I asked.

  She squished up her face like she’d eaten a sour pickle. “I don’t like him. He runs the nasty old shop where people take dead animals to get them stuffed. He once mounted a cat for a lady I know, and he charged her an arm and a leg. If you ask me, stuffing your dead pet is morbid.”

  I wasn’t exactly a fan of taxidermy either. “But why don’t you like him?”

  “He’s mean as a feral hog when provoked,” she said, still engrossed in her game. “Your grandpa didn’t care for him either.”

  My Grandpa Lamarr had been the kind of man who’d never met an enemy, so if he didn’t like Buzz, it said a lot.

  There was a knock on the glass front door. All three dogs jumped up, dazed and confused, but barked their heads off anyhow. I shushed them as I padded to the door.

  Lizzie Madden waved, her raven black tendrils unruly in the wind. I unlocked the door, letting her inside. Her embroidered mustard tunic top featured a gorgeous Navajo style pattern at the V-neck collar and again at the wrists. She wore dark skinny jeans tucked into knee-high black boots with leather fringe.

  “Boy, the wind has really picked up this evening,” she said, her vibrant green eyes swollen and red. “Thank you so much for finding Patches.” Her ivory skin was blemish free, yet she had crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. I guessed her age to be late forties.

  “No problem,” I said.

  She removed a red leash from her purse and bent down, snapping the metal latch on Patches’s collar. The dog’s tail wagged side to side.

  “I can’t believe Petunia’s gone,” Lizzie said, glancing at Gertie and then back to me. “She and I have been running together in the mornings. She was one of the first people I met when we moved here. I don’t know what I’ll do without her friendship.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  I recalled seeing them jogging when I put out a few Halloween decorations in front of the shop earlier this morning.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. We lost a sweet soul,” I said.

  “Thank you. I will miss her dearly,” she replied, blotting her eyes with a tissue.

  “I’m sorry we had to call you, but we didn’t know what to do,” I said, pointing to Patches. “I feel awful for her. She went everywhere with Petunia.”

  Lizzie patted Patches on the head. “She’ll be fine. Won’t you, girl?”

  Gertie snatched her head up and peered at Lizzie. A puzzled expression spread over Gertie’s face. “Will you keep her?” she asked.

  If she cannot, can we keep her, Chiquita?

  Won’t Taffy be jealous?

  Nah, she is a confident lady.

  I wondered if having a mental dialogue with my dog would ever feel normal.

  “Of course! Lloyd already okayed it and Patches gets along beautifully with our Ramen,” Lizzie said. “Well, I guess we ought to get back to the gallery. It’ll be closing time soon, and that husband of mine couldn’t shut down by himself if I paid him to.” She rolled her eyes, made a kissing sound to the dog, and the two of them headed for the door.

  “How is the art business?” Gertie asked.

  The Maddens had opened an art gallery called Lizzie & Lloyd’s at the edge of town. She created funky, material-covered life-size mannequins, and Lloyd painted abstract landscapes in vivid colors. The gallery did good business, but I’d heard they’d made a killing out at Round Top at the biannual antiques show. It ran two weeks in the spring and two weeks in the fall. And unique, eclectic pieces sold like gold out there. The funkier, the better. This had been their first time selling their things at the show.

  “Business is good, Gertrude. Thank you for asking. Now that the show’s over, we can concentrate on getting the gallery in shape for the winter festivities,” she said. “I guess I’ll see you all at the funeral. The whole town will probably be there.”

  Adios, Patches!

  Patches barked a goodbye.

  And they were out the door.

  I locked it behind them, staring at Lizzie as she loaded Patches into her black Toyota 4-runner. My heart went out to them.

  “I don’t care for her much,” Gertie said, returning to her word game.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, flipping the Open sign to Closed and switching on the front porch light.

  Gertie shrugged. “She’s snobby. One of those Round Top Show people who think they’re better than the rest of us. And, I think it’s weird she and her husband share a Facebook page,” she said.

  “I didn’t know you had a Facebook,” I said.

  “I don’t. I heard it through the grapevine.”

  Oh, Chiquita. I asked Patches if she saw anything suspicious at the library. But she was in her backyard all day. When her human didn’t return after work, she escaped to go look for her.

  And the mystery continues, I thought.

  “Well, we need to get to know them better is all,” I said, turning off the overhead light. “Besides, she’s an artist. They can be a little quirky sometimes.”

  “I said she’s snobby, not quirky,” Gertie said, swiping her phone closed.

&nb
sp; At the counter, I powered off the computer and packed my things to head upstairs. “Standoffish is how I’d define her. But to be honest, she’s probably in shock from losing her friend today. You ready to head upstairs?”

  Gertie shuffled out of her chair. “I guess so. And what’s with naming her dog Ramen. Reminds me of Ramen Noodles. Speaking of, what’re we having for supper?”

  Gertie always had food on the brain.

  “I’m thinking Ramen Noodles,” I said, shrugging. Jackson wouldn’t be cooking us dinner. He’d sent a text earlier and said he’d be on overtime until they’d wrapped up the scene at the library. I’d asked him how it was going and if they’d discovered her cause of death. He said they suspected it’d been a respiratory issue, but they were transporting the body to Austin for an autopsy. I had my doubts regarding any natural cause of death. My suspicious mind had other thoughts. So, for curiosity’s sake, I suggested they have the contents of her coffee mug tested. And I expressed my concerns about Buzz.

  Gertie made a pfft sound and headed upstairs.

  “After a day like we’ve had, instant soup will have to do,” I said.

  The dogs and I followed Gertie as she moaned and groaned up the stairs.

  I feel it will be a long night, Chiquita.

  SATURDAY AT SCRUBADUB was a whirlwind of lather, fluff, and poof. We were approaching the last hour of the day, when I saw Donny Thomas pedal by on the sidewalk.

  “I’ll be right back!” I hollered to Gertie and Daniel, who were both back in the groom room finishing up.

  I normally wouldn’t leave a lobby full of clients, but I wanted to ask Donny about yesterday. I dashed out the front door just in time. Cuff darted between my feet nearly sending me face first onto the sidewalk.

  Don’t leave me, Chiquita!