How to Kennel a Killer

by Cat Clayton

  “It’s precisely what happens when too much fentanyl is in the system,” Jackson’s voice came from behind.

  Squatting, I lost my balance and fell backward onto my butt. In the mud. I twisted around to find Jackson standing there, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans.

  “Oh, you startled me.” I pushed my way up to my knees, then to my feet. I brushed my bottom off and dusted my hands. “Fentanyl, what is it?”

  “A heavy duty opioid, used for pain, sometimes mixed with other drugs to enhance the effects, and it’s 100 times more powerful than morphine. The amount we found in her coffee cup would’ve caused respiratory distress and death,” he said. “She would’ve become very dizzy, disoriented, and sleepy. She probably sat down to rest. The drug slows the respiration down and the victim passes out. Eventually, the heart stops.”

  “Oh,” I said, taking in the information.

  I glanced around. No wife. Good.

  Cuff came bounding from the back of the potting shed. Chiquita? You okay... oh, it is only him. Good thing. I was about to put my feisty pants on.

  Cuff could get his mean dog on when the situation called for it.

  “So, does it mean she wasn’t in pain when she passed away?” I asked Jackson.

  He shook his head. “She may have been aware of breathing issues and maybe an overall sense of something being wrong. But no, no pain.”

  “Good,” I said. “Well, not her passing away, but good she didn’t suffer in a lot of pain. The scary part is her death had to be intentional. Someone put the drug in her coffee. Whoever did it meant to kill her.” But who would want her dead and why? Petunia had been a harmless librarian.

  “Steely, I see that look in your eyes,” Jackson said, his expression grim. “I don’t want you wrapped up in this. Let us handle it.”

  “Thanks, but I can take care of myself. Don’t worry about me.” I bit my tongue so not to say anything else. Why didn’t he tell me about his marriage? I felt so betrayed. Where had she been all this time?

  “But I do,” he said, his dark eyes softening. “I care about you a lot.”

  What a bunch of malarkey! “Really, Jackson?” I said, stabbing my sides with my fists. “You’re married! Did you honestly think I’d never find out? If you really cared about me, you would’ve been up front. You would’ve told me, especially after what Nick did. How could you do this?”

  He reached for my hand and I pulled away, backing up a few steps. The last thing I needed was for him to touch me. I’d cave. And I refused to let myself be vulnerable.

  “Steely, we need to talk about this,” he said. “I filed for a divorce. It’s the whole reason she’s here.”

  “When?” I asked.

  “When what?”

  “When did you file?” Not that it really mattered. The bottom line was he withheld information, which in my book equaled lying.

  Not exactly, Chiquita.

  I eyed my dog. Whose side are you on?

  Yours, of course.

  “I filed two weeks after you and I met,” he said. “When I started having feelings for you, I knew it was time. I mean, she’d already taken off with some other guy. I had to track down a friend of hers to even find her. She’d left Taffy with her parents. When I returned to the states, I went there looking for her. They wouldn’t tell me where Angelica had moved, but they agreed I could have the dog,” he said. “I thought you’d be more understanding than this.”

  For being a cop and a Marine, he sure was dense. Or maybe it was a guy thing.

  “We’ve been seeing each other for almost three months. The entire time you were married, and you never told me!” My breath hitched in my chest.

  Take a puff, Chiquita. Cuff nudged my leg with his nose.

  Before a full-fledged asthma attack came on, I dug inside my bag for my inhaler. I shook the cartridge and took one long puff, feeling the relief almost instantly.

  Jackson took a step forward. “Can’t you at least try to be reasonable?” he said.

  I stepped back. “Reasonable?”

  “Yes,” he said. Irritation flickered in his gaze.

  Without a word, I spun around to leave.

  “Steely, wait,” he said. “I found out something about Vivienne Peacock,” he said.

  I stopped in my tracks. At my feet, Cuff’s ears alerted.

  Chiquita, he knows you too well.

  Yes, he does, I thought.

  I pivoted, squinting at him. “You said to let the police handle this. And what? Because I won’t hear you out about your so-called, soon-to-be-ex, now you’re dangling mystery clues under my nose?” I crossed my arms over my chest and did my very best at raising only one eyebrow.

  “Is it working?” he asked, a wry smile forming on his perfect lips.

  “Yes. But don’t think I’m giving in. I’m not. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t want to talk about whatever her name is. All I want right now is to hear what you’ve found out.”

  He tried hard to hide his smile, which irritated me even more.

  “Spill it.” My tone sounded harsh. Maybe too harsh. “Or I’m leaving.”

  Calm down, Chiquita. We want to keep him talking.

  I peered down at Cuff. He let out a whimper. He knew the look. The one where I threatened to take away his Milk Bones.

  “For starters, we didn’t lift any prints from the coffee mug except for Petunia’s. And we discovered Vivienne Peacock has been after Petunia’s job,” he said.

  “Not just anyone can be a librarian. You have to hold a master’s degree. I doubt Peacock even went to college.”

  Jackson nodded. “She did, and she earned her master’s in library sciences. I spoke with Darcy downtown, and she told me Vivienne had been in several times to check on her application.”

  “The city planned on getting rid of Petunia?” I asked.

  “According to Darcy, Petunia had talked about retiring and moving out of state, but kept changing her mind. I went through her office and found a letter of resignation. It dates back two weeks. I guess she’d finally decided to leave,” he said. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, checking the text.

  Thinking it could be her, his wife, made me cringe.

  Chiquita, keep your cool.

  I am trying, I thought.

  “Do you think Vivienne had anything to do with Petunia’s death?” I asked.

  He nodded, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “It’s possible. She had a motive. I’m definitely looking into it,” he said.

  “Good. I think if you look hard enough, you’ll find she also had the opportunity and the means.”

  “Steely, can we talk about—”

  “Gotta run.” I skirted around him with Cuff in tow. “Gertie and Daniel are waiting on me.” I didn’t want to discuss or deal with our relationship issues. Not now.

  Jackson didn’t say a word as we escaped around the back side of the potting shed.

  AN HOUR LATER, GERTIE, Daniel, and I, along with Cuff and Virgil, gathered in my apartment above the shop. We sat at the dinette table, discussing the phone call I’d received moments before from Pop.

  “I can’t believe she’s coming home,” Daniel said, twirling one end of a gray paisley scarf looped around his neck. His black turtleneck sweater hugged his body, showing off his muscular build.

  Gertie hunched over the table as she drummed her fingers. She hadn’t said a word since I’d returned. I wondered if her and Daniel had an argument.

  “I know. I have to say, I’m very nervous about our family reunion,” I said. I didn’t know what all Stoney had been through and the extent of her emotional trauma, but I had a feeling her transition back to the real world wouldn’t be easy.

  “Gertie, you’re very quiet.”

  She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I have a lot on my mind,” she said, picking at her bright red nail polish. She made a tiny pile of paint slivers on the table.

  I’ll say, I thought. I guessed it
fair to say we all had a lot on our minds.

  “So, earlier, Cuff and I ran over to the library. Jackson was there following up on details surrounding Petunia’s death.”

  “Did he give you an explanation about the woman? I mean, his wife?” Daniel asked, raising one eyebrow.

  Gertie butted in. “Yeah. What about her? Where has she been all this time? Why’d he keep her a secret? I’d like to give the boy a real talkin’ to,” she said.

  I held up my hands. “Whoa. I don’t have any answers.”

  “Why not?” Daniel asked. “Don’t you want to know?”

  “Not particularly. I told him I didn’t want to hear it.” I suddenly felt the need to defend myself.

  “Well, that’s stupid,” Gertie said. She continued to pick at her nails. “I have a mind to put him over my knee.”

  “Look, forget about it for now. Let’s focus on finding out what happened to Petunia,” I said, not wanting to discuss my love life debacle. “We know someone poisoned her. But she didn’t have any enemies, at least none we know of. Unless we uncover something about Buzz having a grudge with her. And there’s Vivienne, who wanted her job. As crazy as it sounds, do y’all think her murder could have something to do with the contest?” I asked, fumbling with my car keys on the table.

  “Why would someone kill her over a silly pet costume contest?” Gertie said.

  “Maybe because she always won? We have had quite a few sign up since she died,” Daniel said.

  “This much is true. But I’m not sure anyone would kill her over our little contest. At least I hope not. I feel like we’re missing something big here.” I stared at the window, lost in thought. We needed to find out where Buzz McCoy had disappeared to, and what had transpired between him and Petunia. Jackson had searched her office at the library and if he’d found something other than the letter announcing her resignation, he didn’t share it.

  “Hey,” Daniel said, nudging my arm. “Where’d you go?”

  “Oh, sorry. So, I’m thinking about going to Petunia’s house and having a look around. Either of you want to go with me?”

  Chapter 10

  Gertie put her hands on her hips. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  “Quarter,” I said, giving her a disapproving squint.

  “You’re breaking my bank,” she said with a frown. She marched off toward my bedroom.

  “Daniel, you in?” I asked, getting up from my chair. I tapped the screen of my cell phone to make sure it had enough battery life and tucked it into my bag.

  “I’d give you the same reply as Gigi, but then you’d charge me,” he said, chuckling. “But yes, I’m in.”

  With Gertie dressed like a ninja, head to toe in black, we loaded up into the Bug and drove out of the back lot. Thanks to the time change, the evening sky had darkened to a marbled purple and black, even though it was still early. We parked a few houses down from Petunia’s pale green bungalow and I switched off the engine. Gertie pulled a black ski mask from her purse and stretched it down over her face.

  Why is she dressed like that, Chiquita? Cuff sat on my lap, panting, his eyes bugging.

  I knew the reason. She believed we were on some kind of secret mission. I asked anyway.

  She peered at me through the small cut-out eye slits. “Well, duh, can’t go on a stakeout dressed like you. You’re supposed to be in disguise. If we’re caught, they’ll know straight off who you two are, but not me. I’ll go undetected.”

  My purple hoodie and jeans were far from a disguise. And Daniel, well, he looked like a runway model.

  “Gertie, we’re not going on a stakeout,” I said. “C’mon. Let’s see what we can find.”

  She blew a raspberry in my direction. “Party pooper.”

  Petunia’s charming little house was dark except for the dim solar lighting amongst the landscaping. The three of us plus Cuff tiptoed into the yard, up the walk, and climbed the front steps of the porch. I tried the doorknob and found it locked. Cupping my hands over my eyes, I peered into the window next to the door.

  “Let’s go around to the back,” I said and followed the wooden side porch around the house.

  A chorus of crickets serenaded us as we sneaked along. A dog barked from a nearby yard. Cuff rambled inside my head.

  What if we get caught?

  What do you think we will find?

  I am not sure this is a good idea, Chiquita.

  “Shh!” I said.

  “We haven’t said a word,” Daniel whispered.

  “Never mind. Stay close.”

  I tried the back door, finding it locked. I flipped the back porch mat up, exposing a key. Bingo!

  “How did you know there was a key?” Daniel tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Lucky guess,” I said.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea to go in?” he asked.

  “Well, we didn’t come here to stand around and talk on the porch,” Gertie said. “C’mon.”

  I slipped the key into the deadbolt and turned it to the right. We heard the distinct, click, as the lock turned over. I twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Dead silence welcomed us with an eerie greeting. The skin on my arms prickled.

  Gertie shoved me forward. “Hurry!”

  “Whatever y’all do, don’t turn on any lights,” I said to the both of them.

  Cuff?

  I am here, Chiquita. Right behind you.

  I crossed over the threshold and slinked into the room, which turned out to be the kitchen. A light above the stove illuminated the room in a soft yellow glow. The hum of the refrigerator drowned out Gertie’s raspy mouth breathing.

  “What’re we looking for?” Daniel asked in a whisper, the whites of his eyes shining.

  I shrugged. To be honest, I hadn’t quite thought this one through. “I don’t know. Anything that’ll help discover who had it out for her.”

  Gertie pushed her way past the two of us as we crept down the hallway.

  “I don’t know why y’all are whispering. It’s not like there’s anyone in here,” she said. “Let’s try the front sitting room. Petunia and I have had tea in there before. It’s where she spent most of her time.”

  Gertie had been here before? I had no idea. “I didn’t know you and Petunia were friends. How many times have you been here?” I asked as I followed her into the front room.

  “Plenty,” Gertie said, perusing Petunia’s stocked bookcase. “She lent me books all the time. The one I have at home is from her collection.”

  Interesting.

  A birdhouse lamp on an end table near a floral-patterned couch switched on, sending us all into a panic. Daniel squealed, and he and I dropped to a crouch on the floor. Gertie threw herself onto an armchair, ripping a section of the front window drapes down with her. She struggled to untangle herself.

  “The darned thing must be on a timer,” I said, standing back up.

  “Scared the heck out of me! I thought someone had caught us,” Daniel said.

  “Would y’all stop yapping and help me?” Gertie thrashed in a pile of thick maroon drapery.

  I unwound Gertie, and she scrambled out of the chair, tossing the panel to the floor in a heap. In a huff, she yanked off her ski mask and shoved it into her purse.

  “It’s hard to see with that thing on,” she said.

  “Wow, would you look at her collection!” I admired the overstuffed library shelves.

  Petunia’s bookcases were impressive, most of them hardcovers, and most were romances with sensual titles on the spines. The Unabashed Damsel. Magic Underneath the Moonlight. Ravaged Flowers.

  “Daniel, keep your eyes peeled for anything unusual,” I said, as I thumbed through a stack of paperwork on a small table near a recliner. Bills and miscellaneous mail.

  “Will do,” Daniel said, still whispering. He rummaged around in the small dining area off the sitting room.

  “Oohh!” Gertie said.

  “What?” I rushed to her side. “What’d you find?”
<
br />   “This looks like a good one!” Gertie said, snagging a book from the shelf. “The Naughty Knight.”

  I heard Cuff snicker in my head. Better you than me, Chiquita.

  You can say that again, I thought.

  Better you than me, Chiquita.

  I shook my head. “Gertie, put it back. We’re not here to find books.”

  “If Petunia was here, she’d let me borrow it,” Gertie said, pouting.

  “Well, she’s not.” Has my grandmother lost her mind? “I’m not trying to sound insensitive, but you can’t borrow a dead woman’s book.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  Without replying, I crossed to the opposite side of the room near the windows. Two wingback chairs stood like sentries with a round table in between them. Something sticking out from under one of the seat cushions caught my eye. It appeared to be a book cover. I pulled it out. A journal. I opened the cover and fanned through the pages. Petunia had kept a journal. There could be a clue to her murder in here. I shoved it inside my bag.

  “Steely!” Daniel hissed. “I saw someone peeking out of the curtains across the road!”

  I squinted out the window. A bright light flooded the yard across the street. Crud. We needed to get out of here.

  “Gertie, c’mon! Let’s go out the back door. We can sneak across the neighbor’s backyard instead of going around front and then make a beeline for my car.”

  We practically had to drag Gertie out of there and away from all the books. She protested the entire time I locked the back door and stashed the key back under the mat.

  We skirted around a flowerbed in Petunia’s side yard.

  “Who’s back there?” a booming voice came from the front of the house.

  “Where do we go?” asked Daniel, his voice shrill.

  “This way!” I pulled on Gertie’s arm.

  “Ouch, you’re hurting me!” she said.

  Cuff whined as we entered the unfenced backyard of the neighbor’s house.

  Don’t look now, but we are in trouble, Chiquita.