The Case of the Faithful Frenchie

by B R Snow

  Stunned, I almost dropped my wine glass.

  “What?”

  “I want you to work for me,” he said. “On a part-time basis.”

  “Chief, in case you haven’t noticed, Josie and I run a very busy establishment for dogs.”

  “Yes, and you do that extremely well. And that won’t change. But you always seem to find the time to investigate when something catches your eye, right?”

  Unable to argue with his logic, I settled for a small shrug.

  “And since the last thing I want to do is spend a lot of time fending off questions from other law enforcement agencies, or the town council, I thought we’d get ahead of that potential problem by bringing you onboard. You know, get you inside the tent.”

  “Is this like that old saying, keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer?”

  “Suzy, we’re far from enemies, and you know it,” he said, sitting back in his chair as our waiter returned with our dinners.

  “Thanks, Bobby. It looks great,” I said.

  “Enjoy. Just let me know if you need anything else,” he said, then headed off.

  I took a bite of my steak and slowly chewed it, deep in thought.

  “So, how would this work?”

  “You would have the official title of consultant. And you would only be expected to help out on certain, hopefully rare, cases. I think we’d both know when one of those pops up.”

  “Yes, I’m sure we would. Have you talked to anybody about this yet?”

  “No, I wanted to talk with you first.”

  “Do you think the town council will go for it?”

  “Well, since your mom is mayor, I like our chances,” he said with a chuckle. “But I think they’ll love the idea. It gives everyone some coverage from a liability standpoint, yourself included. And I’m sure they already know that there’s no stopping you once you get your motor running.”

  “I’d get to decide when I wanted to be involved in something?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And I’d report to you and just you, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Would I have to go to a lot of meetings?”

  “No.”

  “Would I have to carry a gun?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Good. I hate guns.”

  “I know.”

  “Do I get a badge?”

  “Yes, you would.”

  “Cool. A badge and a title. What more could any girl want?”

  “To be a fly on the wall when old man Winters’ will is read?”

  “Well, there is that.”

  “You’ll talk with Caspian?”

  “I will. It will be the first act in my official capacity as your police consultant,” I said, smiling at him.

  “So, I take it you’re accepting my generous offer?”

  “I am.”

  “Good. Welcome aboard.”

  He reached into his shirt pocket and removed a laminated dollar bill. He tossed it across the table, and I stared down at it.

  “Since I thought you might want to hold onto this one as a keepsake, I took the liberty of having it laminated. It’s suitable for framing.”

  “What’s this?”

  “Your first year’s salary,” he said. “To execute the contract, I need to pay you at least a dollar.”

  “A dollar? I think I’m going to need a union,” I said, laughing.

  “Consultants don’t have unions,” he said, grinning at me before attacking his steak. “Don’t forget, while I need the help, you don’t need the money.”

  “Still, I’m way underpaid,” I deadpanned.

  “Come see me next year. I’ll see what I can do about getting you a raise.”

  Chapter 17

  After dinner, I said goodbye to Detective Abrams and headed to the lounge to say hello to Rocco. I sat down at the bar, and he gave me a quick wave, cashed a customer out, then headed my way.

  “Hey,” Rocco said. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  “How’s my favorite bartender doing?”

  “I’m not sure,” Rocco deadpanned, scanning the lounge. “I don’t think he’s been in tonight.”

  “Funny,” I said, making a face at him. “Can I have some coffee, please?”

  He poured a cup and set it down in front of me.

  “So, what’s up?” Rocco said.

  “I need to ask you a question, Rocco.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “You must have heard about what happened over at First National today.”

  “The van full of cash and jewelry? Sure. It’s a small town. News travels fast.”

  “You used to be a criminal, right?” I said, then was embarrassed by my own abruptness. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” he said, smiling. “But say it a bit louder. I don’t think the guy at the other end of the bar heard you.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Okay, good,” I said, leaning forward and lowering my voice. “In all the time you were, let’s call it, working on the wrong side of the street, did you ever see anyone give back something they stole?”

  “Never,” he said, shaking his head. “Any criminal worth their salt would never do something like that.”

  “That’s what I thought. Who would?”

  “An amateur.”

  “I said the exact same thing.”

  “Then why are you asking me?” Rocco said, laughing.

  “Humor me, Rocco,” I said. “Why would somebody do that?”

  Rocco wiped his hands with a bar towel as he considered the question.

  “Maybe a guilty conscience. Or somebody who couldn’t shake the fear of getting caught and going to prison.”

  “And by returning all the stolen goods, it would be logical for that person to assume that the cops would lose interest, right?”

  “Yeah, that would be a logical assumption for an amateur to make,” he said, nodding. “But in my experience, I’ve learned that seeing something like that would be catnip to a lot of cops. They’d be more interested, not less.”

  “Why?”

  “Because most cops are really curious,” Rocco said. “Just look at you. You’re still asking a bunch of questions to try and figure it out.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said. “It’s a habit I can’t shake.”

  “That’s because you think like a cop,” he said, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just the way you’re wired.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. But people can change,” I said.

  Rocco snorted and smiled at me.

  “Suzy, if you gave everybody on the planet a dollar, a lot of them could barely manage to make change.”

  I laughed and sat back on my stool as Rocco topped off my coffee.

  “That reminds me,” I said, pulling the laminated dollar out of my pocket. “Take a look at this.”

  “Hello, George,” Rocco said to the dollar. “Let me guess. It’s my tip.”

  “No, it’s my annual salary.”

  I gave Rocco the short version of my dinner conversation with Detective Abrams. He listened closely, but I was unable to read his face. When I finished, he casually wiped down the section of the bar in front of him.

  “They’re not going to let you carry a gun, are they?”

  “No. But I get a badge.”

  “Congratulations. It’s too bad we’re not dating,” he deadpanned.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’ve always wanted to sleep with a cop.”

  “Funny.”

  “You know, just to return the favor for all the times they-”

  “I got it, Rocco,” I said, laughing. “Do you think it’s a pretty fair bet that whoever robbed the bank found what they were after?”

  “Probably. And since they didn’t keep the money or jewels, my guess is that they were probably looking for some sort of document.”

  “It’s still strange that whoever i
t was decided to return all of it.”

  “Like I said, they’re amateurs, Suzy.”

  “But Detective Abrams is convinced that whoever handled the explosives really knew what they were doing,” I said, sliding my coffee mug toward him. “Could I please have a Limoncello?”

  He reached below the bar and removed the chilled bottle. He poured and set the glass down in front of me.

  “Be careful with the LPR. Don’t have too many of those.”

  “LPR?”

  “Liquid panties remover,” he said, laughing. “One of my old girlfriends used to call it that.”

  I cocked my head and gave him a coy smile.

  “Rocco, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were flirting with me.”

  “I’d never do that, Suzy,” he said, returning the smile. “It would be wrong to flirt with the boss, right?”

  “Yes, it would,” I said, locking eyes with him. “But, technically, you work for Chef Claire.”

  “Yes, I do, don’t I?” he said, beaming. “But to get back to our discussion, just because the person who handled the explosions knew what they were doing, it doesn’t mean he was a criminal. You need to separate those two things.”

  I took a sip of Limoncello. I had to hand it to the Italians. It was delicious.

  “You’re saying that instead of looking for a criminal with a history of using explosives, I should be looking for someone who blows up stuff for a living.”

  “Now you’re getting it,” Rocco said, then his focus left me and settled on two men who were starting to get loud in the lounge. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watched him head their way without taking his eyes off them, then I recognized the two men and followed. I came to a stop next to Rocco, and he gently extended his arm as a protective gesture. I took a step back and watched Brock and Bentley Winters continue their argument. They were still wearing their golf attire and continued to be oblivious to our presence.

  “I’m going to need you gentlemen to lower your voices,” Rocco said, softly.

  “Go away, meathead,” Brock said, without looking up.

  However, Bentley did look up, and when he got a good look at the chiseled Rocco and the expression on his face, he clamped his lips tight and nodded his head at his brother to look behind him. Brock continued with his drunken harangue that made absolutely no sense.

  “Brock, you need to pipe down,” Bentley said.

  “Don’t tell me what I need to do,” Brock snapped. “That’s always been your problem, Bentley.”

  Then Brock gasped and slumped down in his chair from the death grip Rocco applied with a thumb and one finger to Brock’s neck and shoulder area.

  “I said that you gentlemen need to lower your voices,” Rocco repeated.

  “Okay, okay, I got it,” Brock said, shaking free from Rocco’s grip. “Geez, that hurts. What do they feed you?”

  “Loudmouth drunks,” Rocco whispered. “And just so you know, I haven’t had dinner yet.”

  Brock raised both hands in surrender.

  “You win. I promise we’ll tone it down,” Brock said. “And I’m sorry I called you a meathead.”

  “Hi, Suzy,” Bentley said, embarrassed. “Sorry about the disturbance.”

  “Hi, Bentley, Brock,” I said, smiling. “It’s okay, but we like to keep things relaxed in here.”

  “I understand,” Bentley said. “Would you care to join us for a drink?”

  “Actually, that sounds great,” I said.

  Bentley slid over on the couch to make room for me. Brock drained the last of his cocktail and stared off into the distance.

  “You sure about this?” Rocco whispered.

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” I whispered back. “I’ll be doing a little snooping.”

  “Oh, I see. Got it, Rocco said, relaxing. “But I’ll keep a close eye on things. What can I bring you?”

  “I’ll have another Limoncello, thanks.”

  Rocco raised an eyebrow at me.

  “You sure?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, nodding at Brock and Bentley. “LPR repellant.”

  Rocco laughed and headed back to the bar. I sat down on the couch and glanced back and forth between the Winters brothers.

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Suzy,” Bentley said. “But she had a good run.”

  “Yeah, a great run,” Brock said, rolling his eyes at his brother.

  “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything. It sounded like you were having a rather animated discussion,” I said, going for casual.

  “It was just our usual,” Bentley said. “My brother said something incredibly stupid, and when I pointed it out to him, he got mad. But that’s what babies do.”

  “Knock it off, Bentley,” Brock said.

  “Have the plans for the memorial service been finalized?”

  “I guess,” Brock said, then caught the look his brother was giving him. “I mean, Lucinda is handling all the arrangements, and we haven’t seen her all day.”

  A waitress arrived with our drinks, and Brock almost seemed to lunge for his.

  “How’s Roxanne?” I said.

  “She’s fine,” Brock said.

  “Are we going to be hearing the pitter-patter of little feet soon?” I said, smiling at Brock.

  “I sure hope so. I’m certainly doing my part.”

  “Eloquent as always,” Bentley said, shaking his head. “You’re such a romantic, Brock.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Well, good luck with it,” I said. “But having a kid is so expensive these days.”

  “You have no idea,” Brock said, laughing.

  I did. But I wasn’t about to tell him that.

  “I ran into Caspian a couple of times over the past few days,” I said, tossing my line in the water.

  “Really?” Bentley said, genuinely surprised. “The Queen of Darkness actually surfaced from her lair?”

  “I stopped by her place yesterday. I’m thinking about buying one of her paintings.”

  “Let me save you some money,” Brock said. “When I throw up later tonight, I’ll make sure to do it on a canvas. Five grand and it’s yours.”

  “I take it you don’t think much of Caspian’s work,” I said, taking a sip of Limoncello.

  “I think my sister’s so-called work is garbage,” Brock said. “But what do I know? I’m just a…what does she always call us?”

  “Philistines,” Bentley said.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Well, excuse me for wanting to be able to actually identify what I’m looking at.”

  “I saw her again today when I stopped by your family’s house to drop off a casserole,” I said, casually glancing back and forth at them to gauge their reaction.

  “Caspian was at the house today?” Bentley said. “What on earth was she doing there?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I imagine she was just there to see if she could help with any of the arrangements.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” Brock said. “What did she say?”

  “Not much. She just seemed to be hanging out and relaxing. Trying to take the edge off. You know, dealing with her grief by letting her hair down.”

  “As long as she wasn’t playing with any sharp objects,” Brock said, laughing.

  “Don’t start, Brock,” Bentley said, then looked at me. “I’m sure it’s obvious to you by now that my sister has some serious issues she’s trying to deal with.”

  “This coming from a man who just lost forty grand betting preseason football,” Brock said, shaking his head.

  “I find her fascinating,” I said.

  “I think the word you’re looking for is troubled,” Bentley said.

  “No, I’m going go with fascinating,” I said, smiling. “It sounds like Caspian lives a very interesting life. And she’s so successful. I almost fainted when she told me how much her paintings sell for.”

  “Again, I gotta say,” Brock said. “Five
grand and tonight’s output is all yours.”

  “Thanks for the offer, Brock, but I think I’ll pass,” I said. “But I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t exhibit your work in here.”

  Bentley roared with laughter. I even got a smile and a nod out of Brock.

  “I need to head home and say hi to my dog,” I said, tossing back the last of my drink and getting up. “I hope to see you guys soon.”

  “Take care, Suzy,” Bentley said, standing. “Again, we’re sorry about causing a disturbance.”

  “Yes, sorry about that,” Brock said, pushing himself up out of his chair with both arms. “By the way, where did you find the bruiser behind the bar?”

  “Who, Rocco?” I said, glancing over at the bar. “I guess I just got lucky.”

  Chapter 18

  For the third night in a row, I didn’t get enough sleep, but by seven I was strolling around the outside play area waiting for all the dogs to take care of business. I sat down in one of the Adirondack chairs and closed my eyes and let the early morning sun have its way with me. It was already warm, and the humidity was up.

  It would be a perfect day to be out on the River. Since it was after Labor Day, the dwindling number of tourists and summer residents we saw around town were pretty much relegated to the weekends. During the week, it was quiet on the water, and the late summer transition into fall has always been one of my favorite times to take the boat out. Captain and Chloe appeared to be of the same mind this morning since they were sitting at the foot of my chair and staring up at me with a look of anticipation. Then I remembered I hadn’t given them their morning cookie and they weren’t happy about it. I reached into my pocket and removed a small plastic bag. Both dogs went on point and stared at the bag. I gave them two cookies each, then rubbed their heads.

  Josie came out the back door of the Inn and headed my way. Several of the dogs spotted her right away, including Captain and Chloe, and made a beeline for her. It took her several minutes to make it across the lawn. She sat down in the Adirondack chair next to me and laughed as she wrestled with Captain for the tennis ball in his mouth. Eventually, he let her win, and she tossed it across the lawn. We watched the dogs sprint for it, then I glanced over at her.