by Cat Clayton
She patted my hand. “Honey, you’re too sweet. Thank you. But, I’m doing fine. And, how about I let you know if we need anything. Back to your question about Vivienne. You asked how I thought she’d react to someone sleeping with her husband.”
“Yes.” I leaned in closer.
Mrs. Pieper narrowed her eyes at me. “Vivienne Peacock doesn’t like to lose. If she thought for one second another woman tried to claim what is hers, she’d be out for blood.”
“Sounds serious,” Judge Pieper said from behind me.
I jumped.
I could have told you he was coming, Chiquita.
Why didn’t you? I thought.
You did not ask.
Next time, warn me.
Okay, Chiquita.
“Oh hello, dear,” Mrs. Pieper said. “Never mind. We were only having a girl chat.” She flipped her silvery blonde hair back, her diamond wedding band flashing under the lights.
Judge Pieper laughed. “There’s my clue to not ask any further questions,” he said, his eyes shifting from me to his wife. “You about ready to go?”
“Yes,” she told him and turned to me. “One more thing, Steely. She can be a viper when provoked. Take precautions where she’s concerned.” Mrs. Pieper took my hand in hers and squeezed it. “It’s always so good to see you, my dear.”
Vipers are quite poisonous. “You, too. You’ve been more than helpful. Take care of yourself.”
We made our way back over to the rest of the group.
Now, we know. The killer might be Mrs. Peacock. Cuff wrestled inside my bag. Gotta find a tree or a fire hydrant or a lamppost or something.
Might be is an understatement. I’ll take you outside in a minute.
Jackson held the phone to his ear when we arrived at the table, his expression ominous. “I’m sorry I can’t stay,” he said. “I need to go.”
“I’ll walk you out. Cuff needs to take a break.”
Jackson said his goodbyes, and I followed him outside. I set Cuff on the ground and he meandered over to the park bench, lifting his leg.
“Is everything okay? Is it about the empty pill bottle April found?” I asked him.
“Not exactly,” he replied, his dark eyes full of apprehension.
“What then?”
“Buzz McCoy is raising hell in his cell,” he said. “I’ve gotta get down there.”
Thursday morning’s appointments kept us busy, and my mind preoccupied with happy dogs and satisfied clients, instead of Petunia’s memorial service this afternoon.
Buzz had lawyered up over the poaching business. As for the speculation regarding Petunia’s murder, he came clean.
He confessed to having a major conflict with Petunia, but claimed he had nothing to do with her death. Buzz confirmed he had cut back on his dose of Fentilla, but he had two bottles of dissolvable tablets under the counter. He said he had a bottle with at least twenty pills go missing over a week ago, but he figured he’d misplaced the medication. Someone could’ve easily taken it from his shop.
Several details about Petunia’s murder hounded me. Who had it out for her, enough to kill her? Who delivered the poisoned coffee on her fateful day? Who stole the missing medication from Buzz’s shop? The answer to all three questions pointed to the murderer.
My mind drifted straight to Vivienne Peacock. Was she capable of murder? I could flat out ask her, which wouldn’t end up well for me. Maybe I could do a little digging at her house when no one was home. Although, with my luck, I’d get caught. Surely, she’d be at Petunia’s service later. Maybe I could observe her there and listen in on her conversations.
My cell phone dinged beside me, signaling a potential match for my fake profile. I remembered my clandestine meeting with Mich5166 later in the evening.
As I checked out a customer, I leaned over and peeked at the screen. Randall Lamarr. Oh jeez. I swiped to ignore the suggestion to like my father’s profile. Even though he couldn’t see my account until I liked his, I still felt as if he had caught me red-handed.
Guilty conscience, Chiquita? Cuff cracked one eye open from his bed on the counter.
You know it, I thought. It felt like an invasion of privacy. His, not mine.
I’ll delete my account after this mess clears up. I swear.
“Who’s ready?” Stoney’s voice made me jump.
“What?” I said, trying to recover.
“Sorry, did I scare you?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I guess I’m a little on edge today. What did you ask?”
“Do I need to bring anyone back to the groom room? Daniel’s finished with this gorgeous number.” She held Farah out to me.
I smell a cat. Cuff covered his nose with his two front paws. Yuck.
I clutched a ball of white fur and peered into the bright blue eyes of a white Persian cat. Daniel had blown her fluffy coat to perfection, and he’d tinted the tips of her ears and tail jade-green. Farah meowed and nuzzled her nose on the back of my hand.
“Oh, Miss Farah, you look fabulous, my dear,” I said to the feline.
She purred in reply.
“Greta, Miss Farah is ready.”
I handed the kitty back over to Stoney with a bright green bandana bow. She set her gently on the counter and went to work securing the bow around the cat’s neck.
In a fuzzy cream sweater, Greta met me at the computer, ginger hair in two side braids. She beamed a radiant smile.
“Daniel did a beautiful job on her coat,” she said, reaching over and stroking the cat’s fur. “I’m so glad we switched over to y’all.”
Greta drove in from the next county over. This was the second time we’d seen Farah in the shop. Cats were not our usual, but we wouldn’t turn away any furbaby.
“Me, too,” I said, as Farah leaped from the counter. With panic in her blue eyes, she crouched in the middle of the lobby floor and started retching.
“Oh no!” Stoney said, covering her mouth. “Is she okay?”
The cat hacked up a hairball. With a flick of her green-tipped tail, Farah strolled a few feet away, sat down, and began grooming herself.
“She’s fine,” I said, reassuring her.
“Sorry, Steely,” Greta said with a mortified expression. Her cherry red lips trembled.
I put a hand over hers. “Don’t give it another thought. I bet Farah will stop doing it now that we’ve groomed her. You might bring her every two to three weeks and have her de-shedded. It’ll cut down on the excess fur.”
I nodded to Stoney. “Can you grab a tissue and toss it in the trash?”
“Sure,” Stoney said and started cleaning the mess.
I checked Greta out, and they left with a package of the new organic kitty treats we’d ordered for Farah.
I asked Stoney to take back the last two appointments for the day. A few minutes later, Pop strolled through the front door. Even though I’d ignored my Stumble notification, and it’d disappeared from my home screen, I grabbed my phone and shoved it into the back pocket of my jeans. I hopped down from my stool and nearly ate the counter with my face.
“Whoa, careful Steels! Why are you so jumpy?” Pop asked, peering over his wire rims, already dressed for the service. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”
Yeah, what has you all jumpy, Chiquita?
I narrowed my eyes at my pup.
You do not have to be so sensitive.
I shrugged. “Nothing. I mean, maybe I’m nervous about Petunia’s service today. The contest is coming up. I don’t know. Everything really.”
I left out the parts about seeing him show up in my Stumble notifications and the meeting with some strange guy this evening.
Pop pulled me into a bear hug and instantly I felt safe.
“You realize you went from nothing to everything.” He squeezed me tightly. “Hey, we’ll get through Petunia’s service together, and don’t worry about the contest. We’re here for you,” he said over the top of my head. He pulled back, staring into my eyes.
“But, I’m sensing there’s a lot more you’re not telling me.”
If you only knew, I thought.
Cuff whined from his bed.
“See,” Pop said, releasing his hold on me. He pointed to Cuff. “Even he thinks so.”
I moved back around the counter. “I’ll be fine.”
Studying me over his glasses, Pop said, “I wanted to let you know I spoke with the delivery guy from Pizza Willy’s. I’ve agreed to pay his hospital visit, and since the owner of the restaurant will let him work the front counter instead of delivering pizzas, he won’t be out any income,” Pop said.
His phone dinged, and he checked it. He smiled at whatever he saw on the screen and slid the phone back into his pocket without a word.
“That’s good. Thank you for helping. I will pay you back. Now, all we can do is hope the situation at Little Bob’s works out, too.”
Pop shook his head. “I don’t want your money. Only a promise to help keep Gertie and yourself out of trouble.”
I grimaced and changed the subject. “So, what’re you up to? Looks like you’re already dressed for Petunia’s service.” I peered at the computer. “We still have an hour and a half until it starts.”
“I know, but I um... I’m meeting someone for coffee,” he said with a sheepish grin.
“As in a woman kind of someone?” I asked.
Chapter 21
“Yes,” he said. “Are you okay with me dating?”
There’s a question a daughter, who misses her mama something fierce, never wants to hear.
I wondered if I could play this out with grace as Mama would expect me to do. I reached up and felt for her locket under my sweater. Knowing her, she’d want him to be happy. I appreciated him caring about my thoughts and respecting me enough to ask for permission.
“Sure, Pop. Whatever makes you happy.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What’s Stoney think about it?”
He leaned and looked down the hall. “I haven’t discussed it with her.” A pained expression spread across his face. “Actually, we haven’t spoken much to each other, not about where’s she’s been, your mother’s passing, nothing. Things at home are tense. It seems like everything I do or say offends her.” He plunged his hands into the front pocket of his charcoal gray slacks.
He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, Chiquita.
I plopped back down on the stool. “Want some advice?”
“Shoot,” he said, chuckling.
“Cut yourself some slack. And, stop trying so hard.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
This man who’d raised me, who always had an answer for everything, seemed to be utterly clueless.
Cuff barked.
I cocked my head at my pup. “What?”
“Are you talking to the dog?” Pop asked.
I whirled my head back toward him. “Don’t be silly,” I said. “After all she’s been through, the last thing she needs is to come home and have you walking around on eggshells. She’s tough, but what she needs is for you to treat her the same as anyone else. And with respect.”
“But she’s not the same as anyone else. She’s my daughter who suffered through an awful ordeal.” Pop’s lower lip quivered. “And I respect her.”
“Okay, then stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’re afraid she’ll run away again. Try to just be grateful she’s home. Let the rest come naturally.” I’m not even sure where all this is coming from, but it sure sounded good.
He smiled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re channeling your mother.”
She gets it from me.
I giggled at Cuff. “Maybe I am, Pop.” I hugged him. “Now, go have coffee and I’ll see you at the service.”
“Will you bring Gertrude and your sister?” he asked, turning to leave.
“Yes. We’ll see you there.”
Looking handsome and confident, he turned and waltzed out of the lobby.
I FLIPPED THE WELCOME sign to Closed in the front window, observing Honey stroll down the sidewalk with Dewey on a leash. I knocked on the glass, giving her a wave. She grinned and returned the friendly gesture. The goat sported a shiny red collar purchased here at Scrubadub. I couldn’t wait to see what Honey put him in for Saturday’s costume contest.
Taking the steps two by two, I tripped over Cuff who’d scrambled between my legs. I stumbled and landed on all fours.
Oops, sorry, Chiquita!
“Careful, Cuff! Bruises are so unattractive.” I dusted myself off. I’d had my fair share of bruises because of my overeager pup.
I hear bruises are the new black. And blue. Cuff sniggered a wheezy cough.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to race me up the stairs.”
He climbed the last few steps, turned to face me, and yipped. Not race you. I am trying to keep you from getting ready and leaving me here. Alone.
I sighed. “Well, you don’t have to kill me in the process. Why don’t you ask if you can go? Do I ever say no?”
He stood at the top of the steps, wagging his tail. You make a valid point, Chiquita.
I changed into a simple black dress with three-quarter sleeves, the bottom hem stopping right above the knees. A pair of low-heeled black pumps completed my ensemble. I checked my reflection in the full-length mirror and dashed into the bathroom. I squirted some mousse into my palm and rubbed the pile with my other hand. Running it through my red tufts, I took notice of my face. Given my line of work, I was usually a no makeup kind of gal. I dusted my face with a light powder, blushed my cheeks with some color, and lined my lower eyelid with an emerald green gel pencil. A light pink gloss over my lips concluded my efforts.
I chose a black sling bag so I could conceal Cuff and we hit the road. I stopped over and picked up Gertie and Stoney. Daniel had dropped them off so they could change into something more appropriate for the service.
“I don’t even know why I’m going. I didn’t even know her!” Stoney yelled through the bathroom door.
When I’d arrived, I found my sister locked in the hall bathroom and a purple-clad Gertie banging on the door. Not giving Gertie’s outfit one thought, I sweet-talked Stoney into giving Gertie a turn in the bathroom.
Stoney and I went to her room to pick out what to wear.
I do not envy you, Chiquita. It is good to be a dog right now.
You can say that again, I thought.
“Think of it as supporting our dad, Stoney. Petunia was a friend of his. Besides, she was a client of ours, too,” I told her, sifting through her closet. She didn’t have much besides jeans, T-shirts, and sweatshirts. Her wardrobe needed a makeover. Big time. I pulled a long gray sweater out and held it up. “How about wearing this as a sweater dress?”
She studied me, a smile creeping over her face. “Maybe for you, but I’m like a foot taller than you. It’d be a sweater mini-dress on me!”
I shrugged. “Hurry, try it on,” I said and dashed out of her room. I returned with a pair of black leggings. “Put these on and we can top it off with these black boots.” I held up a pair of knee-high black boots with a low heel.
“If those are yours, I won’t even get my big toe inside,” she said with a doubtful glance at them.
“They’re Mama’s, size eight and a half.” I peered down at her bare feet. “They should fit.”
She sniffled. “Okay. But will you excuse me while I change? I’ll meet you in the living room.”
“Hurry. We don’t want to be late,” I said and left her to get dressed.
Twenty minutes later, the Lamarr women and Cuff headed to a memorial service for the town librarian.
We climbed out of the Bug in the Slater and Sons Funeral Home parking lot, and I took a long, hard look at Gertie’s attire. I cringed. She wore an orchid purple floor-length dress with puffy sleeves at the shoulders and a pair of cheetah-toed shoes peeking out from underneath. I shook my head. She pulled out Big Red and took a few puffs.
Pop wouldn’t be happy.
You can say that again, Chiquita.
I opened the flap of my bag and let Cuff crawl inside.
“He sure is a cutie,” Stoney said, smoothing down her sweater dress. “Do they allow dogs inside?”
“No, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.” I spotted Pop’s Jeep. “Okay, there’s Pop. And Daniel said he’d meet us inside.”
Pop’s disapproval flashed in his eyes as he approached. “I gave you one job,” he whispered to me. “Could her outfit be any more outrageous for the occasion?”
“Hey, at least I got the two of them out of the house and here on time. They were fighting over the bathroom when I arrived, and Stoney suffered a meltdown about what to wear. So, how did your coffee date go?”
His eyes glinted. “I like her.”
“Her who? Do we know her?”
He shrugged.
“Is she from town?”
“Sort of,” he said, smiling from ear to ear.
“What do you mean? Come on, Pop, tell me who she is!”
“Sorry, Charlie,” he said and turned to head into the funeral home.
“Really?” I said, trailing after Pop, waving to Gertie and Stoney. “C’mon y’all.”
The City of Pleasant Hills had done a fabulous job of creating a beautiful and bookish atmosphere for Petunia’s service. Stacks of vintage hardcovers adorned the tables with artificial ivies draped over and through them. Floral arrangements festooned the room, and large black and white photos of Petunia in white wooden frames rested on easels. Perusing the pictures warmed my heart. Petunia in the library. One in the gorgeous gardens she’d created. Petunia in her bib overalls. Her reading a picture book to a room full of children. Petunia in a floppy garden hat, sitting in a wheelbarrow. Petunia and Lizzie while jogging, selfie-style. And, one with her and Patches in a sunny field of bluebonnets.
She will be sadly missed, Chiquita.
“Makes you wonder what kind of person would want such a lovely soul gone,” a voice said behind me.
I jumped and whirled around to find Mayor Bateman and his wife standing there.