Sit, Stay, Slay

by V. M. Burns

  Something in the way he looked made me ask, “What did you do?”

  He chuckled. “Well, when I heard about his penchant for dressing up, I called my girlfriend, the hacker.”

  Red scowled. “Am I going to regret hearing this?”

  Madison smiled. “You might want to cover your ears.”

  Red didn’t cover his ears, but he frowned as he listened.

  Madison said, “Dixon Vannover likes himself too much not to have taken pictures of himself in drag.”

  “Tell me you didn’t use TBI resources to hack a suspect’s files,” Red said, glaring.

  “Of course not.” Madison shook her head. “I didn’t have to. All I did was search the Internet. Heck, anybody could have done it. I knew that jerk wouldn’t be bright enough to know that just because you delete a photo in a post doesn’t mean you’ve deleted it completely.”

  David made a few swipes across his cell phone and showed us a video of Dixon Vannover wearing a black wig and singing “It’s Raining Men” in full drag.

  Monica Jill stared in shocked surprise. “Oh my God. Look at his legs.”

  “Girl, how can you look at his legs with all that shimmying going on?” B.J. asked.

  We laughed at the video until I felt guilty. “I’m torn. I mean, if he wants to dress in drag, that’s certainly his right.”

  “True,” David said. “Honestly, if he weren’t such a huge hypocrite, I wouldn’t have been tempted to upload this to every social media site I could find.”

  I gasped. But David held up a hand. “I said I was tempted to upload it. In the end, I couldn’t do it.” He swiped his phone and put it away. “I think the man is a hypocritical jerk with the emotional intelligence of a goldfish, but . . . I don’t believe in dirty politics either.”

  I reached across and gave my son a kiss. “I’m proud of you, honey. Whether he wins or loses his election, I hope that the decision will be made based on the issues and not . . . his personal life.”

  “Is there any more pizza inside?” Monica Jill said. “I’m starving.” She hurried to the kitchen.

  When she was gone, B.J. leaned across the table. “Have you noticed that she’s eating like a condemned man on death row?”

  Mai smiled. “Maybe she’s been working out?”

  B.J.’s face said that was highly unlikely.

  “Maybe she missed lunch,” Stephanie said.

  “I’m sure carting potential home buyers around all day can be exhausting,” I said, “and she has to go when her clients and the house are available. I remember when I was looking for this place, we must have seen at least fifty houses.” I glanced at Dixie, who had been there for almost all of them.

  “It’s a buyer’s market, and I’m sure she’s been working nonstop.”

  Dr. Morgan asked, “Did she ever get checked out by her doctor?”

  “She went this morning,” B.J. said. “She’s waiting for all of the results to come back.” B.J. squinted at the doctor. “Why? You don’t think she’s got a brain tumor, do you?”

  Dr. Morgan shook his head. “I doubt very seriously if she has a brain tumor. It could be anything from dehydration to high blood pressure. However, I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions.”

  Monica Jill came back with a plate loaded with salad and two more slices of pizza. “Who’s jumping to conclusions?”

  We were saved from responding when Red’s phone rang, and he stepped away to take the call in private. Dixie adroitly changed the subject by bringing up the housewarming, which got us all talking about the plans for the weekend. After a few moments, Red rejoined the group. Despite his stoic expression, I knew by the clenching of his jaw that something was wrong.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “That was Officer Lewis. Dixon Vannover was just found . . . murdered.”

  Chapter 19

  We had a million questions, but Red didn’t have any answers. All he knew was that Dixon had been strangled. He said he needed to go and made a quick exit, promising to call me later. Joe promised to make sure that Steve Austin, Red’s dog, made it home safely.

  “Glad I deleted that video now,” David said.

  We tried to comfort him, but I knew the best thing we could do was to get busy. “This is horrible. Just because none of us liked him doesn’t mean we wanted him dead.”

  “I suppose this rules him out as a suspect,” Beau said.

  “I’d say that’s a good assumption. Chances are rare that there are two stranglers out there.”

  “So now we need to figure out who murdered Naomi Keller and Dixon Vannover,” Dr. Morgan said.

  “I’m worried about June,” Dixie said.

  “That poor woman sells her first painting and loses her husband on the same day,” Monica Jill said.

  I glanced at Dixie. “Casserole?”

  She nodded. “Casserole.”

  “Any chance June killed them both?” Madison asked.

  We stared.

  “I suppose it’s possible,” I said. “Although . . . she seemed to worship the man.”

  “True, but he was a lying womanizer,” B.J. said. “Besides, how do we know that June Vannover is the innocent she claims to be?”

  “You mean like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”

  “Maybe June Vannover is meek and mild when she’s sober, but once she’s wasted, she becomes a totally different person.”

  Something in the way she spoke made me ask, “Are you speaking from experience?”

  She took a deep breath. “My ex-husband was like that. When he was sober, he was the perfect husband. He was kind, thoughtful, romantic, and . . . sweet.” She shook her head. “But once he got drunk, he became mean and abusive.”

  “I didn’t know alcohol could do that,” Monica Jill said. “I always thought liquor amplified your personality rather than changed it altogether.”

  “Well, that’s not how it worked with Richard. I put up with it for a few years. He always promised that he was going to stop drinking, but he couldn’t.”

  Monica Jill reached out and touched her friend’s arm. “I had no idea.”

  “Why should you? We’ve been divorced for almost ten years now.” She shrugged. “I’ve moved on. He’s moved on too. Now he’s remarried and some other woman’s problem, but just because this June Vannover seemed nice when you met her doesn’t mean she’s that way all the time.”

  “That’s true, Mom,” Stephanie said. “You did say you thought she wasn’t a stranger to alcohol.”

  “That was just my first thought. I’m certainly no expert.”

  “Well, your instincts are usually pretty good,” Joe said.

  I thought for a few moments. “You’re all right. I guess I feel sorry for her, so I don’t want her to be guilty. The facts are that she was angry with Naomi Keller. She believed she was having an affair with her husband and that he planned to leave her.”

  “And Naomi Keller ended up dead,” B.J. said.

  “Strangled to death,” Dixie added.

  “Next thing we know, June’s husband ends up dead,” Monica Jill said.

  “Strangled to death,” Stephanie said.

  I held up my hands. “Okay, June Vannover stays on the list.”

  B.J. raised an eyebrow. “Stays on the list? June Vannover needs to be at the top of the list.”

  “Okay, but we can’t eliminate our other suspects. There’s still Britney Keller.” I glanced around the table and noted that the others nodded their agreement, although reluctantly.

  “There’s also Warren Keller,” Dixie said. “His motive is just as strong as June’s. Naomi was his wife.”

  “Plus Dixon Vannover was diddling not only his wife, but his daughter too,” Madison said.

  I glanced around. “Anyone else?”

  “That’s enough for now, don�
��t you think?” Dixie said.

  We talked about our next steps. Joe hadn’t been able to visit the Greyhound rescue, but he promised he would do so tomorrow. Dixie and I planned to take a casserole to June Vannover. Mai was also planning to visit the rescue to get more info on Brittany Keller. Theodore Jordan was going to court, but Stephanie was going to ask around at the pub and the courthouse.

  “I was supposed to meet with Dixon Vannover tomorrow morning,” Beau said, “but . . . now I don’t have an assignment.”

  “I think you and David should still go to the campaign site,” I said. “The workers may have some insight that might help.”

  David narrowed his eyes. “What kind of insight?”

  “Did he have an argument with someone? Maybe someone heard that he was going to meet with one of our suspects. Look, I doubt that we’re going to find a note on the floor saying, ‘Meet killer at seven p.m.,’ but you never know what someone heard. There’s bound to be a lot of emotions, and maybe someone will let something slip that we can use later.”

  David nodded. “Got it.”

  “You want us to just listen and see if there’s something that will help tie these murders together,” Beau said.

  “Yes,” I said. “We don’t have a lot to go on, except now we have one more dead body.”

  Monica Jill patted my arm. “Hopefully, we also have one less suspect.”

  Later, when I was in bed, I wondered if Monica Jill was right. Did we have one less suspect? Were we even looking in the right direction? I tried to think through what I knew about Naomi Keller and Dixon Vannover. In my gut, I didn’t believe the murders were unrelated. So if they were related, what did the two people have in common? They were lovers. That meant there were two spouses who might have wanted one of them dead, but would either June Vannover or Warren Keller want both of them dead? Try as I might, the only person I could imagine who would want to see both of them dead was Brittany Keller. If she was in love with Dixon Vannover and he had jilted her, then she might be angry enough to want him dead. If I can’t have him, then no one can may seem clichéd, but newspapers were filled with stories of an injured lover with that mentality. Plus, she hated her stepmother. The fact that her lover tossed her aside for her stepmother had to be like pouring salt into an open wound. After delivering my casserole to June Vannover, I needed to make my way to the Greyhound rescue.

  I sat up in bed. “My goodness. I need to make a casserole.”

  Chapter 20

  A quick text message to Dixie helped me realize that not only did I not need to attempt to make a casserole in the middle of the night, but that Mrs. Huntington had us both covered. So I was able to sleep.

  On Wednesday, I was so excited to go to work, I didn’t need my alarm clock or my poodle to wake me up. In fact, Aggie gave me a sideways glance when I scooped her and Rex up to go outside. Even Lucky took a few extra stretches before he trotted outside too. Once the four-legged creatures had tended to the call of nature, I was able to grab a cup of coffee and tend to my own needs.

  I took extra care getting dressed and even took extra time to curl my hair and apply makeup. When I was dressed, I found David and Stephanie sitting outside drinking coffee. Both had gone out after our meeting and come home in the early hours of the morning, so neither were looking exactly chipper.

  “Good morning,” I sang.

  David grunted and Stephanie gave me a look that implied my happy disposition wasn’t appreciated at this hour of the morning. Nevertheless, I was bound and determined to enjoy this day and merely sipped my coffee in the beauty of the morning.

  Stephanie glared. “Who are you and what have you done with our mother?”

  “Very funny.”

  David grinned. “I was just about to check the back of your neck for pods.”

  “Ha ha. Who knew I had such amusing offspring?”

  “You do seem to be in surprisingly good humor this morning,” Stephanie said. “What’s up?”

  “It’s my first day at work as a real employee.”

  “I completely forgot.” Stephanie hugged me. “Congratulations, Mom.”

  “Thank you. It’s my first real job in”—I glanced at David—“over twenty years.” I had given up my job as a CPA when he was born and worked in my husband’s used-car dealership. When his business started doing well, he hired someone to do the bookkeeping so I could stay home and focus on raising our children. I had kept my CPA license over the years but rarely got to use it. “I feel . . . independent.” I smiled. “I had no idea how important it was to me to know that I could take care of myself.” I took a deep breath. “Moving wasn’t easy. In fact, it was rather scary, but I wanted . . . needed a fresh start, and this confirms that I made the right decision.” I choked up.

  “Mom, we’re both so proud of you,” Stephanie said, and she leaned over and hugged me.

  After a few moments, I pulled away. “I’m going to need to redo my makeup if I don’t stop blubbering like a baby.”

  “You deserve a little blubber,” David said. “However, if you don’t want to be late on your first day, we’d better get a move on.”

  David drove me to work, and I was pleasantly surprised that in addition to the two vases of flowers I’d received yesterday, there was also a lovely plaque outside my door with my name and title. I almost teared up again but avoided making a fool of myself in front of Jacob and Linda Kay, who were standing there to welcome me.

  After I put away my purse, I joined my coworkers for pastries and coffee in Linda Kay’s office.

  I wasn’t surprised when Linda Kay said, “We’ll get your paperwork signed and sent to Human Resources, but first we’re hoping you can fill us in on the dirt about Dixon Vannover’s murder.”

  “I hate to disappoint you, but all I know is that Red got a call last night that Vannover had been strangled.”

  “Just like Naomi Keller?” Jacob asked.

  “As far as I know, but he didn’t say how it was done.”

  “Maybe it was June?”

  I stared. “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ve just been imagining what happened between her and Dixon when he got home yesterday and found out she was planning to leave him.”

  I spewed my coffee. “She what?”

  Jacob grabbed a few napkins and helped me wipe up the mess from the table, although my carefully planned first-day-as-a-permanent-employee outfit was ruined. “I thought you knew.”

  I shook my head. “She didn’t mention anything about leaving her husband when I was there.”

  “I bought three of her paintings,” Linda Kay said and pointed to several canvases in a corner that I had missed while distracted by pastries.

  “I bought two, and then we took about twenty on consignment,” Jacob said. He finished cleaning, sat down.

  “Consignment?” I asked.

  Linda Kay nodded. “Sara Jane Hopewell was a huge patron of the arts and she often sponsored art showings to promote local artists. We have an arrangement with several of the local art galleries and occasionally host exhibits for new artists.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever thought about the museum selling art. Do you do that?”

  “Do we do that.” Linda Kay’s smile reminded me that I was now part of the museum. “It’s not something we do often. The AAMD has traditionally frowned on museums selling art from their permanent collections.”

  “What’s the AAMD?” I asked.

  “It’s the Association of Art Museum Directors.”

  Jacob held his head in the air and pushed his nose up with his finger. “Snobs who would rather see a museum place buckets on the floor to catch rain dripping through a leaky roof than allow a museum to sell a few paintings to pay to get the roof repaired.”

  Linda Kay tsked. “That’s not fair. The AAMD has reasons for their actions, but given the declini
ng revenue that museums have had in recent years, it’s really forced change.” She looked as though she were remembering a different time, but quickly shook herself and returned to the present. “Regardless, June Vannover’s paintings weren’t part of our permanent collection. It’s no different than selling a reproduction of the Mona Lisa in the gift shop, except the museum will get a commission.”

  Jacob pulled out a pen and wrote on a napkin. “You paid two hundred for your painting. I paid five hundred for the two I bought.”

  “My total was eight hundred,” Linda Kay said.

  “That’s fifteen hundred just from the three of us. Plus, we’re going to arrange a showing at the museum, and she could easily make six figures if we display the art properly and invite the right buyers.”

  Thankfully, I had put my cup down, so I only dropped a pastry this time. “Six figures? Are you serious?”

  “Oh, yes,” Linda Kay said. “She’s very talented. When you sent me those photos, I got chills. That’s why I sent Jacob over there immediately to snatch up those paintings.” She looked sheepish. “I have to confess I was anxious to get there before she signed with an agent because the price would be triple what we paid.”

  “Now I feel so guilty for only giving her two hundred dollars,” I said. “I like a bargain just like everyone, but I certainly don’t want to take advantage of her.”

  Linda Kay patted my knee. “Didn’t you say she was only going to charge you fifty dollars?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you weren’t taking advantage of her. Besides, you’re an accountant, not an art valuation expert, so stop worrying.”

  I turned to Jacob. “Did she really say she planned to leave her husband?”

  “Yeah. She was shocked that we were interested in her art. She said Dixon told her she didn’t have any talent and that no one would ever pay more than two dollars for it.”

  “But what were her exact words?”

  He thought for a moment. “Well, she was stunned by the checks and not really talking to me. In fact, she was talking to herself, but she said, ‘Maybe Lilly was right. It’s not too late. I can support myself without Dixon. I can start over. Have children. Find my happy place.’” He shrugged. “I’m not sure those were her exact words, but that was it more or less.”