by Cat Clayton
“And there it is.” I pointed to the corkboard. “A possible motive.”
You need to tell Jackson, Chiquita.
“I plan on it, little buddy. Let’s get out of this eerie place.” I snapped a picture of the notice with my cell phone.
I twirled to skirt around the counter and tripped over a rug.
Chiquita! Cuff barked and leaped from my arm. He landed on the floor as I crashed to my hands and knees. You okay?
“Ooomph! Crap! Yes, I’m okay, but it hurt!” I steadied myself before moving, and as I did, I noticed several medication bottles on the shelf under the counter. I crawled closer and read the labels. “Oh my.”
What is it, Chiquita?
One label read, Fentilla. Upon further inspection of the bottle, I discovered it was a pill form of fentanyl that dissolved in the buccal cavity of the mouth and used for pain.
I whipped out my cell phone and snapped a picture.
THE FRONT LOBBY OF the police station was quiet this time of the evening. To the left, the day shift receptionist’s desk sat empty. Behind the counter, an older, balding officer peered up from behind the counter, his glasses perched on his nose. His name badge read Smith.
“Can I help you?” he said in a sleepy voice.
“I’m here to see Officer Jackson please.”
Officer Smith narrowed his eyes. “Is he expecting you?”
Uh oh, Chiquita. Don’t...
“Yes,” I said in a firm voice.
Lie.
Too late, little buddy. What’s done is done.
Officer Smith studied me with skepticism. “I see,” he said, glancing down at the computer screen in front of him. “Can I tell him who’s here?”
“Steely Lamarr.”
He produced a warm smile. “Ah, it’s nice to meet you in person, Ms. Lamarr. You did real good catching that crooked Fed, Blake Welton.”
“Um, thank you,” I said, surprised at his reaction.
“Give me one moment to track down Jackson,” he replied and pointed toward the row of chairs near the front door.
I hope you know what you are doing, Chiquita.
“I got this.” I gave him a little squeeze.
Five minutes later, Jackson pushed open the swinging doors, which led to the back. He ran a hand over his head, a flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes, and then he motioned for me to follow him.
I offered Officer Smith a polite nod and skirted around the counter toward Jackson.
“I thought I asked you to go home,” Jackson said in a low voice.
I glanced back to see if Officer Smith was eavesdropping, but he had his head between the pages of a tattered paperback.
“I know, but I need to talk to you. It’s important.” I pleaded with my eyes.
“C’mon,” he said and led me down the hallway and into a room.
He flipped the lights on and asked me to sit in a chair next to a clear desk, except for a Styrofoam cup with a small amount of a thick, syrupy brown liquid. I guessed it had once been coffee. Jackson flung the cup into the trashcan. He opened the top drawer, rummaged around, and produced a pad of paper and a pen.
“Okay, what’s up?” he asked.
I set Cuff on my lap and swiped open my cell phone, clicking on my photos. “These.” I showed him the screen.
Jackson squinted at the pictures of the pill bottles and the game warden’s notice. “May I?”
I handed him my phone. He used his finger and thumb to enlarge the images. His eyebrows raised, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Where did you find these?” he asked.
“I plead the fifth.” I pulled Buzz’s keys out of my pocket. “But you may need these to get in. And you may find the medication bottles under the cash register at Buzz’s taxidermy place, and the game warden notice on the corkboard hanging on the wall.” I offered him a smile.
He frowned, shaking his head. “I’m not asking any further questions. Because God as my witness, I probably won’t like the answers. But I will send them to my phone.”
This worked out in your favor, Chiquita.
So far, so good, I thought.
He swiped and tapped on my phone. One eyebrow arched over a dark eye as he peered at me.
“You’ve joined a dating site?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. Funny you should ask,” I said. How on earth do I get myself into these messes? “Not really. But sort of, I guess. Petunia used it, so I joined to see if I could find anything about the person who she’d been seeing.”
Without a word, he swiped and scrolled and tapped, every few seconds peering up at me, his expression indecipherable.
“Did you set up a fake account?” he asked, the one eyebrow raised again.
“Yeah,” I said. Not one of my proudest moments.
“OneGroomyGal?” he said. “Really?”
“Yeah, as in groovy, since it’s a site for older people. But groomy since I own Scrubadub. Ingenious if you ask me.” I grinned.
From the sound my phone made, he must’ve taken a few screenshots of what he saw. He clicked a few more buttons and then set the phone down on the desk and pushed it toward me.
“How many dog grooming shops are within a fifty-mile radius?” he asked.
“I don’t know, one? Maybe a groomer or two who work out of their homes. What’s your point?” I asked.
“My point is it’s dangerous. You might as well be wearing a neon sign on your back. I want you to delete this account,” he said.
He makes a good argument, Chiquita.
“Look, my goal is to locate men in the area who had similar interests as Petunia and who she would’ve connected with, and who’re married. But, did you see this?” I picked up my phone and scrolled until I found the username StanP54 and showed his profile to Jackson.
“Who’s this?” he asked.
“It’s Mr. Peacock! And he’s married!” I said, barely able to hold in my enthusiasm. “Petunia’s journal said she’d been involved with a married guy. It’s possible that the wife found out about the affair and went after Petunia. Can you say, Mrs. Peacock, at the library, with the poison?”
Jackson stood up, pushed his chair in, and came around the desk. He offered me his hand. I took it, standing too close. He studied me and winked. My knees threatened to buckle.
“I’m listening to everything you’re saying. I hear you. And I’ve read Petunia’s journal. But, the fact remains, you’re playing with fire. I want you to delete your account, remove the app from your phone, and go home and wait for my call,” he said in the gentlest voice he had. “Please.”
Listen to him, Chiquita. I am with him. Play with fire and you will get burned. No doubt.
“But there could be evidence on the site about Petunia’s killer,” I said. Why wasn’t he taking this seriously?
He bent and kissed the top of my head. “I sent a few screenshots to my phone in a text message. I’ll look into it as soon as I’m done here,” he said.
“Fine.” He had heard me. Good.
“Remember, there’s a killer out there who isn’t afraid to take out whoever gets in his way. I need you to be careful,” he said.
“Or her way. But yes, I hear you. I’m going home now. I’ll talk to you later.”
He opened the door and ushered me out, down the hall, and through the swinging doors.
“I’ll call you,” he said.
I waved and toted Cuff back to the Bug. We climbed inside and headed home.
Before I dozed off, Jackson called to say they were holding Buzz for further questioning. He wished me a good night and told me he’d talk to me the next day. I hung up, relieved we hadn’t had time to talk about our relationship issues.
Cuff curled up at my feet, and we both fell fast asleep.
SCRUBADUB HAD APPOINTMENTS scheduled through Thursday. Friday, we’d set aside for the annual pet costume contest preparations. Since Petunia’s death, we’d rescheduled the parade and show and moved the location to here, in fro
nt of the shop, instead of at the library. The city had closed the library for the week because of Petunia’s passing.
I’d spent an hour on the phone earlier with the mayor’s office and the police department. Both parties agreed to shut down traffic on Main Street for the festivities. After I finished working out those details, I set to reschedule Thursday afternoon’s clients to between today and Thursday morning. Thursday afternoon, we’d be attending Petunia’s memorial service.
Gertie arrived an hour late, puffing on Big Red. She breezed into my office blowing like a steamboat, wearing a floppy sunhat and dark sunglasses.
“Stoney’s giving your Pop a fit this morning,” she said. She’d dressed in appropriate work clothing for once, a loose short-sleeved blouse, black slacks, and black tennis shoes. She tossed her sunglasses in her clunky purse and yanked off the sunhat. A streak of purple in her silver hair screamed at me.
“What happened to your hair?” I asked.
Holy taco, it looks like an eggplant landed on her head and exploded. Cuff stood up in his bed on my desk. He arched his back, turned three circles, and plopped back down, resting his head on his front paws.
She took a long puff on her device and blew out a blast of smoke. At the very end, she formed her mouth in an “O” and made tiny circles in the air.
“Color screw up,” she admitted. “But check this out! I watched some YouTube videos of a vape competition and learned how to blow smoke rings.”
There are competitions for vape users? On YouTube?
She is pretty good, Chiquita.
“Sounds cool,” I said. “Now, what’s this about Stoney and Pop? What’s wrong?”
Gertie plopped down on the couch, put up her feet, and settled in as if she were consulting a therapist.
“Pop suggested she talk to Dr. Williams. Stoney refused and threw her coffee cup against the kitchen wall,” Gertie said, taking another puff.
Dr. Williams, a visiting psychiatrist from College Station, saw patients on Wednesdays and Thursdays in Pleasant Hills. We were lucky to have him once a week for the folks who didn’t or couldn’t drive long distances.
“What did Pop do?” Back when we were younger, Pop’s temper could rise if we pushed him hard enough. But he’d grown soft in his older age, since Mama had died. “Did he freak out?”
Gertie rolled her head to the side, giving me an are-you-kidding look, one eyebrow arched. “Not even close. He sat there and stared as the cup shattered. He stood, and without a word, cleaned the mess. I wanted to correct her, but I realize she’s been through some shit. I know, a quarter in the jar. But she’s acting like a child.”
“Maybe I’ll swing by for lunch today and check on them,” I said. Pop and Stoney could use all the support they could get. “I know it’s tough, but you’re gonna have to stay positive. They both need it.”
“You’re right,” Gertie said, sitting up. “But I have a zero-tolerance policy for disrespect.”
That is calling the kettle black.
“Yes, I know what you mean.” I hid my smile as I agreed with Cuff’s comment. “So, we have a lot to do in order for us to prepare for the costume contest. I’ve also rearranged our appointments for Thursday afternoon so we can attend Petunia’s service.” I switched off my computer monitor and stood up, stretching. Yoga last night kicked my butt and my muscles ached. Everywhere.
“What do you want me to do today? Help Daniel or something else?” Gertie asked.
“Daniel said he could get the dogs groomed on his own, but if you can help me with a few things I’d appreciate it.” I handed her a list I’d made earlier. “Go into the supply cabinet and take an inventory of what we have on the shelves. Mark anything on this list of which we have less than three of, including the new leash line we’ve been advertising. I’d like to stock at least ten different colors in various lengths.”
“You got it, boss,” Gertie said. She rose to her feet and shoved Big Red into her handbag. “The lobby is packed, ya know?”
I sighed. “Yeah, I had to shift things around and our day is full of appointments. I’m headed out there now.”
“Prepare yourself,” Gertie said as she scanned the list I gave her. “That woman is out there with Taffy.”
Taffy? Cuff’s head popped up. Where is she?
I’d forgotten I’d seen Taffy’s name on the schedule for this morning. “Wish me luck.”
“Don’t do as I would do,” Gertie said, winking a denim blue.
“Which is?”
“Slap her into next week,” she said and wobbled out of my office.
Show grace, I heard Mama whisper in my ear. I reached up, touching my locket. Show grace, show grace, show grace, I thought, padding down the hallway toward the front.
I hoped to God I had it in me to face this woman and not lose my cool. Here goes nothing, I thought, rounding the corner and staring straight into the beautiful blue eyes of Jackson’s wife.
Chapter 17
Taaaaaaffffffyyyy! Cuff skidded past my feet.
His excitement set off a chorus of barking clients. Gertie hadn’t been kidding. The lobby overflowed with people, every seat in the house occupied. Dogs of all breeds and sizes yipped and danced near their owners.
Cuff hopped up on Angelica’s lap, nosing Taffy, licking her muzzle.
“Oh, aren’t you adorable!” Angelica said.
Thanks. Now, put the pup down and nobody gets hurt! Cuff yapped in her face.
She laughed, and as if she’d read his mind, placed both dogs on the floor.
We made eye contact again.
Awkward.
Show grace, I reminded myself and gave her a half-hearted wave.
She approached the counter.
“Hi,” she said with a gleaming smile. Her flat-ironed blonde hair shimmered like a mermaid’s. “I hope you don’t mind I brought Taffy in for her appointment,” she said, leaning in closer. “I thought this would be her last one here.”
My heart sunk and I tried quickly changing my thoughts so Cuff wouldn’t...
I heard that.
“No problem,” I said, glancing at the computer screen. “Daniel will be out for her momentarily. You can wait here or run an errand if you need.” I forced a smile.
“No. I mean, it’s not her last one. Let me explain. Do you have a moment?” she asked, her flawless skin glowing. Could she be any prettier?
“I guess.” I tried like heck to show some darn grace. “I mean, what can I do for you?”
She glanced behind her, making sure we had privacy. When she turned back, her cheery expression had become somber, tears filled her eyes. She tore open the flap of her small black clutch and produced a tissue. She dabbed her eyes, careful not to smear her mascara.
“I’ve done a lot of soul searching in the past twenty-four hours,” she said, gripping the damp tissue. “I’ve signed the divorce papers and given them to Bo. I didn’t want to at first. I came here to work things out, but when I saw him and heard him out, I knew it wouldn’t work. I messed up and I really can’t blame him.” She blotted her eyes again. “I’ve also decided,” she turned and glanced at the pups playing on the floor, “to leave her with him.”
I stood stunned for a moment and then replied. “Why are you telling me all of this and not Jackson?” I hated she called him ‘Bo.’ Never would I ever...
She shrugged, blinking back another slew of tears forming. “I did. It’s over. I’m leaving town this afternoon.”
“Oh. I see.” I tried busying myself with pushing papers on the counter and rearranging the pens in the penholder, anything to avoid eye contact with her.
“I wanted to bring Taffy to her appointment. He thinks I’m taking her with me. But I’m leaving her here. With you, if it’s okay? I’ll call him and he can pick her up later,” she said, resting her hand on mine.
I almost snatched it away, but she held it tight and squeezed.
“He’s a good man. The best,” she said, staring straight into my soul.
“Don’t make the same mistake I did and give him up. He’s honest and faithful. Gosh, if I had an ounce of his integrity.” She sighed. “He loves you.”
Shut the front door! I pulled my hand back and sat on the stool. Had he said those words, or had it been her interpretation?
“I, um... I don’t know what to say,” I said.
Angelica pulled a compact mirror out of her purse, opened it, and checked her eyes. Closing it with a smile, she took a step back. “You don’t have to say anything. To me, that is. But you owe it to yourself and Bo to work this out. And he deserves to be happy. From what I’ve heard, you make him happy. Now, if you don’t mind, I will sit with my girl for the rest of her appointment.” She turned and headed back to her seat.
I remained on the stool, frozen, unable to focus on anything in particular. I didn’t see this coming. I almost felt bad for her.
Daniel shuffled out from the back and called Taffy’s name.
“Daniel, take Angelica back with you for Taffy’s groom. She can pull my office chair in while you work.”
Daniel gave me a strange expression, but obliged. “Okay.” He glanced at Angelica. “Y’all can come on back!” he said in his usual friendly voice. “Are we doing raspberry highlights again?”
“Of course!” Angelica said. “She’s getting the works today.”
As she walked by me, she winked, and whispered, “Thank you.”
I scooped Cuff up in my arms and he wiggled in protest. Put me down, Chiquita! I want to spend the last moments with her!
I put my lips near his ear. “She’s staying, little buddy. Your girl is staying with Jackson.”
I considered it a win-win for both of us.
I LEFT CUFF OCCUPIED with Taffy and I stopped over at Pop’s house to grab a bite to eat. Tense would be an understatement to explain the atmosphere. Dressed in a black sweatshirt and a pair of jeans and tennis shoes, Stoney sat at the kitchen table, an untouched sandwich on a plate in front of her.