Sit, Stay, Slay

by V. M. Burns

  Monica Jill, Dixie, and I arranged to meet at Da Vinci’s to discuss our next steps.

  Dixie and I arrived first and found a small bistro table outside, and over coffee and croissants, we talked through the building’s pluses and minuses. We waited for Monica Jill, who got stuck in traffic and then took a bathroom break.

  When Monica Jill finally sat down, I leaned forward and asked the question that had been eating at me. “What did your husband say about the baby?”

  Monica Jill sighed. “I didn’t tell him.”

  “What?”

  “Zach was tired and cranky when he came home last night, and I just couldn’t do it.” She must have seen that we were both revved up to protest because she held up her hand. “However, I told him that I had something I wanted to talk to him about tonight, and I’m planning a romantic dinner and some quiet time for us to talk. I’ll tell him tonight.”

  She seemed much more at ease with the news than she had yesterday, which would certainly be a huge help when she talked with her husband. We spent a few minutes talking about the baby but then moved on to the matter at hand.

  “So what did you think of the building?” Monica Jill asked.

  “I loved just about everything about it.” Dixie said. “Unfortunately, the one thing I don’t love is the biggest obstacle—the price.”

  “Well, we might be able to get her to come down a bit,” Monica Jill said, without the slightest bit of conviction in her voice. “But I do think the price is fair.”

  “So do I,” Dixie said. “That’s the problem. Beau and I talked about it last night. He’s willing to do whatever I want.” She smiled but then shook her head. “But I hate to ask him to invest so much money. He’s been slowing down and talking about retiring in a few years. This would delay his plan.”

  “Maybe we can find another building, but I doubt that we’ll find one that is as close to what you want. The location is amazing, but God will provide.” Monica Jill bit into her croissant.

  While Dixie munched on her flakey, buttery croissant, I screwed up my courage. “I talked to the kids this morning, and we were wondering if you would consider taking on a partner.”

  I quickly explained about Albert’s legacy and how I would love to invest in the day care. “I could help with the books, and I wouldn’t have to be involved in the day-to-day operations,” I quickly added. “Unless you wanted me to. It would be your business. I could be a silent partner or an investor.”

  Dixie burst into tears and then reached over and hugged me. “Lilly Ann, that’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard. I would love to have you as a full partner.” She pulled back to look at my face. “If you’re sure that’s what you want?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Monica Jill clapped. “Oh my God! That is fantastic.”

  We pulled ourselves together and talked through what we felt would be a fair price to offer for the building, and Monica Jill pulled out her phone. “Technically, I’ll have to get someone from the office to help with the sale. I’m not licensed for commercial real estate, but I can call Barbara and let her know we’re interested in making an offer.” She crossed her fingers. “Maybe if she knows her brother’s girlfriend is going to be an investor in the business, she might just hold off on other offers until we can get a formal sales contract worked out.”

  Before I could object to using my relationship with Red to help in the business deal, Monica Jill dialed Barbara Westfield and told her that her buyer was interested in making an offer. Based on Monica Jill’s animated facial expressions, it looked like Barbara Westfield was willing to consider an offer.

  We sat and discussed our offer amount and the items we wanted added into the contract until it was time to leave for Naomi Keller’s visitation. The funeral home was atop Lookout Mountain, so I endured another perilous ascent that left my stomach in knots.

  As I climbed out of Dixie’s car, she looked at my drawn expression. “I would have thought you’d find it easier to get up and down the mountain by now.”

  “So would I.”

  A visitation, or wake, was an opportunity for individuals to come and say their good-byes to the deceased and to offer condolences to the family. I’ve been to some wakes that were more like a party than a sad acknowledgment of a death. However, it wasn’t uncommon for a wake to function like an open house, where people dropped in, signed the guest book, viewed the body, and left.

  Monica Jill arrived atop the mountain not long after us, but we could see she was on the telephone, and she motioned for us to go ahead. We walked into the funeral home, expecting to see a crowd of people milling around, but instead found ourselves alone.

  I looked at my watch. “Do you think we got the time wrong?”

  “Nope. You’re right on time.” Brittney Keller had sneaked up behind us while we were focused on signing the guest book. “This turnout speaks volumes about Naomi’s popularity, don’t you think?”

  Brittney was dressed in a bright red cocktail dress, which was lowcut and daring, with high stiletto shoes. Before I could control my face, she twirled. “You don’t like my outfit?” She laughed and leaned close. “I intend to dance on that hag’s grave, so I needed something appropriate for the occasion.”

  “If you’re only here to disgrace yourself, why’d you even bother coming?” Dixie said.

  “I came for Daddy. It’s the only way he would agree to pay my cut of the stepmonster’s insurance money.”

  “You know about that?” I asked.

  “I didn’t, until yesterday. When I refused to come to this farce, Daddy Dearest dangled an amount of money large enough to fund my move to Florida in front of my nose. So . . . here I am.”

  “Where’s your father?” Dixie asked.

  Brittney strutted to one of the rooms in the funeral home and flung open the door. We followed her and saw a room set up with chairs for anyone wishing to linger and a huge picture of Naomi Keller in her younger days, which looked as though she were made up for a Glamour Shot photo, resting on an easel near the front of the room.

  Before Brittney could march off, I grabbed her arm. “Where’s the body?”

  “The police haven’t released it yet, but my father plans to have her cremated anyway, so there was no reason to wait.”

  Dixie and I walked to the front of the room to give our condolences to Warren Keller, the lone person in a room full of empty chairs.

  I extended my hand and mumbled something that I thought sounded appropriate for the occasion. After all, I barely knew the woman and wasn’t great at spewing out sentiment in any case. However, Dixie was highly skilled.

  She hugged him. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. Thank you both for coming.” He looked from me to Dixie. “I hear from Brittney that you two have been asking a lot of questions about Naomi’s death.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond, but Dixie stepped in. “Well, I can’t help feeling partly responsible. If she hadn’t been judging our event . . . who knows?”

  He reached out and squeezed each of our arms. “That’s so kind. I truly appreciate you both for risking the wrath of a murderer to find who killed her.” He glanced around. “Naomi didn’t have a lot of friends, so I’m glad she had you both.”

  I felt a warm flush rising up my neck at the deception. Neither Dixie nor I were friends of Naomi Keller. In fact, if Dixie hadn’t been accused of the murder, I seriously doubt that we’d have thought twice about it, which made me sad. Regardless of how rotten of a human being she was, the idea that hardly anyone would grieve her death seemed extremely cruel. My guilt prompted me. “If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Warren Keller teared up. “Well, there is one thing.”

  I grimaced, but Dixie picked up the baton of goodwill. “Certainly, just name it.”

  “I’d lik
e to donate Naomi’s clothes to charity.” He glanced at Dixie. “I think you’re involved in a lot of charitable organizations that help women in the community, and I thought . . .”

  “I’m on the board of an organization that helps homeless women find jobs. Many of them don’t have the proper wardrobe, and I’m sure they’d be glad to have Naomi’s things, but . . .” She glanced at Brittney.

  “Saying Brittney and her stepmother didn’t get along is like saying oil and water don’t mix.” He pointed to his daughter. “She’d just burn everything.”

  We worked out a date and time that would work for the three of us, and then Dixie and I moved along. By now, our friends and family had arrived and provided a respectable number of visitors, which I was sure had to make Warren Keller feel a bit better.

  They each came up and shook Warren’s hands and offered words of condolence.

  Brittney sat on the front row reading a magazine and chewing bubblegum.

  We milled around for a bit, but after a decent interval of time, we rose and prepared to make our exit.

  I walked over to Red. “Will I see you tonight?”

  “If that’s an invite, then yes.”

  “Absolutely.”

  His eyes asked a question I wasn’t picking up on. Eventually, he said, “So how did the meeting with Barbara go?”

  I smiled. “She’s so nice. I love her.”

  “I knew you didn’t have anything to worry about. I hope she didn’t say anything to embarrass me.”

  I gave him a knowing smile, which I knew would raise his anxiety.

  “Wait, what did she say?”

  I laughed. “Nothing. She was just very nice.”

  At first, he didn’t look as though he believed me, but after a few minutes, he shook his head. “Forget it. It’s probably going to be worse for me at the housewarming when they’re all there together. My mom and my sisters will love embarrassing me. I just hope no one starts pulling out old baby pictures.”

  “I’d love to see your baby pictures.” I kissed him. “Do you have time to join us for lunch?”

  He looked at his watch. “No, I’ve got a lot of work, but I’ll see you tonight.”

  Rather than having me face the harrowing trip down the mountain so quickly after our ascent, Dixie thought it would be nice to have lunch at a restaurant. She suggested a café that had been a grocery store in a previous life but was now a lovely restaurant with a large patio area.

  Red and Madison were unable to join us, but our party of eight was accommodated by pushing three tables together.

  The food was good Southern cuisine with a gourmet touch and included items like fried green tomatoes, pimiento cheese, and shrimp and grits. Since we were split fifty-fifty between North and South, we decided to order a variety of dishes and share them. When our plates arrived, everything looked, smelled, and tasted wonderful.

  When we were full, we sat back and sipped our sweet tea and made sure that everyone was up to date on the latest.

  “I’m sure you’ll all hear from Red later, but the forensic report came back from the fabric used to garrote both Naomi Keller and Dixon Vannover,” Dr. Morgan said. “Madison was correct. It was a dog lead, but that’s not the most interesting thing.” He took a sip of his tea. “The interesting fact was that a small hair was found on the lead.”

  “Oh my,” Monica Jill said. “Were they able to run DNA and trace the hair to the killer?” She reached over and grabbed a fried potato from B.J.’s plate. “Are you going to eat these?”

  B.J. slid her plate toward her friend. “I saw that on one of those forensic shows, and they were able to find the killer from a hair he left at the scene of the crime.”

  “It turns out this hair wasn’t human.”

  “Not human? What kind of hair was it?” Dixie asked.

  “Animal hair.”

  “Well, that’s no surprise,” Dixie said. “I mean, she was killed at a dog show, and there were lots of dogs there. Plus she owns Greyhounds. There must be dog hair everywhere.”

  “True, but it wasn’t canine hair. It was feline.”

  B.J. shrugged. “A lot of people have both cats and dogs.”

  Joe said, “Were they able to run any DNA tests to trace the hair?”

  “Trace the hair?” Dr. Morgan asked. “They can do that?”

  “Oh my God,” Stephanie said, sitting up. “Last year, I met this prosecutor from Prince Edward Island. We were talking about unusual cases, and he mentioned a case where the prosecutors used cat hairs found on a bloodied jacket to link a man to the murder of his estranged wife.”

  Dr. Morgan, Stephanie, and Joe entered into a detailed and extremely confusing conversation about DNA, animal hair, and trace evidence. After a few moments, Stephanie glanced at the rest of us. “I’m sorry.”

  “Does Chattanooga have the equipment to do whatever it is you’ve all been discussing?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I can ask,” Dr. Morgan said. “In fact, I’m going to check into this right now.” He got up, left money for the bill, and then hurried out to his car.

  Dixie frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I’m just wondering which one of our suspects had a cat.”

  “I saw a cat in June Vannover’s artist shed. She said Dixon was allergic, so the cat had to stay in the shed.”

  “There was a cat in the Greyhound rescue,” Monica Jill reminded us.

  Dixie glanced at me. “I didn’t see one at Warren Keller’s house when we were there, did you?”

  “Neither did I, but . . .” Something tugged at my memory. An idea. A thought or memory flitted across my brain. I tried to catch it, but it was gone too quickly. After a few moments, I shook it off. Whatever it was, it was gone now. My gut told me it was important, but experience told me to push it away and stop trying. At some point, it would come to me. However, something in the pit of my stomach sent a shiver down my spine, and I shuddered. Whatever it was that was lurking just outside of my conscience mind was important. I just prayed that whenever I caught it, it wouldn’t be too late.

  Chapter 25

  I glanced at my watch. “I need to get back. I’ve got a final inspection in less than an hour.”

  We paid for our meals and then made our way down the mountain.

  The inspector was waiting in the driveway when we got there. He’d already inspected once, so this visit was merely verifying that the few repairs the bank requested had been completed. In record time, the inspection was over, and I was cleared for closing the next day.

  David and Madison were going to dinner and then a play at the Tivoli Theatre in downtown Chattanooga. He showered, dressed, and then hurried off. Stephanie and Joe also had plans, so she dressed, and then they headed out for dinner on the riverboat, leaving Turbo and Lucky to play in the yard with Aggie and Rex. When Red arrived with Steve Austin, it was a rousing good time of rough-and-tumble play, with several rounds of Catch Me If You Can. Red and I sat on the back deck and watched the dogs racing around the yard with a zeal and enthusiasm that brought a smile to my face.

  Red cooked penne pasta and sausage in a red sauce that was spicy and delicious. I made a chopped salad and opened a bottle of wine.

  I shared Dr. Morgan’s revelation about the animal hair found on the lead used to kill Naomi Keller. Red had already read the forensic report, but he was excited to learn that they might be able to trace the hair to a specific cat.

  “I’m curious how they can pull that off,” he said. “We have to run human DNA through a database and hope to find a match. I guess if we could get DNA from the cats of our suspects, we may be able to narrow things down, but . . . I can’t imagine it’ll be admissible in court.”

  “Stephanie said a prosecutor did it in Canada, but . . . I have no idea.”

  We talked about cats, d
ogs, and the wonders of modern science. Then I told him about our visit to the building and the possibility that I would invest in the doggie day care with Dixie. I watched his face carefully. “What do you think?”

  “I think if that’s what you want, then you should do it.”

  “I mean, do you think it’s a good investment?”

  He smiled. “I didn’t know much about dogs before I met you and Dixie and your crazy dog club friends, but now . . .” He glanced across the yard at Steve Austin, who had just taken a stuffed toy from Lucky and was running around the yard with a look of pure joy on his face. “Now I realize there are a lot of dog owners out there who love their animals. I also know there are a lot of energetic dogs that need exercise.” He pointed at Steve Austin. “Normally, when I come home from work, he’s so excited that he just wants to play for hours, but I’m exhausted by then, and I just want a nap. When he comes here and plays or when he can play with Turbo, he’s worn out, and when I get home, he’s content to just snuggle up on my lap and watch television.” He glanced at me. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all. I’m just . . . I don’t know, nervous. I feel . . . a little frightened.”

  “About the money?”

  “No. I’m just so happy. I mean, I have Aggie and Rex. My friends, the dog club, and my new job. Tomorrow, I close on this house, and . . . I have you.” I smiled.

  He leaned over and kissed me. “Your happy place?”

  I nodded. “I guess I’m afraid something will go wrong.”

  “Well, I can’t guarantee that nothing will go wrong, but I can promise you that whatever happens, I’ll be here.”

  The next day, I was nervous, but my early-morning closing went by without a hitch. The title company received the funds, and I signed my name until I got a cramp in my hand. I was so excited to have Stephanie and David there, and when I was handed the keys, they hugged and celebrated with me.

  Since I had been renting the house, I didn’t expect to be as emotional as I was, but there is something very permanent about buying and owning your own home.