Odds Against (Margot and Odds Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Audrey Claire

  Okay, calm down, Margot. There’s no need to panic.

  She was just tired, she acknowledged, and not thinking clearly. If she told Peter everything, she could go back to her original decision of staying out of all matters of police business. Still, she didn’t want to get anyone into trouble if they were innocent, and she imagined Jimmy was skating on thin ice after that last incident.

  Margot shared with Peter about everything that happened in the middle of the night. He glanced over toward the door. “So that’s why there are coins everywhere.”

  “Oh, I forgot to pick them up.” She thought of gathering the coins now, but her muscles protested. Maybe later.

  “And did you happen to see the intruder’s face?”

  “No, I think he wore a mask.” Margot thought back. “Then again, I’m not sure. It was quite dark, and my eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

  He nodded. “How about their bearing? Maybe you recall how he moved. There can be telltale signs in that. Any thoughts?”

  “Like a ninja.”

  Margot refused to tell Peter the thief moved like a ninja. Odds seemed taken with the word, and she knew he said things just to see if she would repeat them out loud. Well the joke was on him this time.

  “I don’t believe so. He moved quickly. Oh!”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, he wasn’t big, so it couldn’t be—” She stopped.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me, Margot.” She saw a glint of ill-humor in Peter’s eyes. “Obstructing a police investigation is against the law, and I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.”

  Margot took in a deep breath and lowered her head. “I was going to say the thief wasn’t a big man, so it couldn’t be Jimmy.”

  “And why would you think it could be Mr. Barber?”

  Margot’s frustration rose. Peter was a very astute man in his own right. She thought he would assume she suspected Jimmy based on the last mistake, but Peter would ask a question about what she thought rather than jump to conclusions.

  Nancy wrapped her arm around Margot’s shoulders. “Margot’s been through a lot, Peter. Surely your questions can wait until she’s rested. After all, she sprung her wrist during the attack.”

  He seemed to consider this and then stood. “All right. I will visit again some other time. Margot, you have my number. Please call me if you can think of anything that might help the police either with the break-in here or the case with Charles Olsen.”

  “I will. Thank you, Peter.”

  He left soon after, and rather than discuss her concerns with Nancy, Margot pleaded fatigue and took to her bed. Odds curled up at the end of it like a good guard cat. Sleep was a long time coming, but at last she drifted off.

  * * * *

  Margot sat at her kitchen table stirring her coffee with her left hand rather than her right. She had just taken two of the pain pills the doctor had prescribed, and Odds lay atop the newspaper on the table. At two in the afternoon, she wasn’t sure if she should tell Peter her suspicions about Zabrina.

  “If we solve this case ourselves, Odds, then we can be sure of who the intruder was.”

  He didn’t stir.

  “Let’s look at it logically.” She tapped the spoon on the side of the mug and set it down. “Right after we saw Zabrina coming out of Steven Sandifer’s apartment, my apartment was broken into. And we know she can get in with those tools she had.”

  Oliver had come by to change the locks on her apartment and give her new keys. She felt no safer than before, but she did vow to make a better habit of putting on the chain. She had quickly learned when she moved in that the responsibility of locking up lay on her. Nancy’s sticky fingers had hurried that lesson along. However, it didn’t include the chain most nights.

  “I don’t see how it makes any difference changing my locks anyway,” Margot complained. “The police said there was no sign of forced entry.”

  Odds turned over and stuck a back leg in the air. He proceeded to lick it.

  “Are you listening to me, Odds?”

  He turned his head toward her and squeezed his eyes shut and open in exaggerated movements.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s Morse code.”

  “Of all the—”

  Someone knocked at the door, and Margot scraped back her chair to go answer. Kenny stood on the other side. “Hi, Ms. Margot. Mom sent me to see if you’re okay. She had a last minute shift change and had to go in. I have this cake.”

  Kenny held up the cake on a plate this time and covered in plastic wrap, but when he held it out, he looked reluctant to let it go.

  “Did you eat most of it again, Kenny?”

  “No, and Mom took all the rest for her coworkers.”

  Margot stood back. “Well come in. You can have this. Nancy has brought me enough treats.”

  His eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Where is Dottie?”

  He stepped aside to show that his little sister clung to the back of his legs, eyelids drooping. “She needs a nap.”

  “Well put her to rest on the couch, Kenny. There’s a blanket at the bottom of my bed. Then you can come into the kitchen, and we can chat while you eat the cake.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Margot. You’re cool.”

  Margot beamed.

  In a few minutes the two of them sat at her kitchen table while Margot watched Kenny tear into the pound cake his mother had baked. He shoveled forkful after forkful into his mouth, hardly pausing to chew. She wondered if the feeling stirring in her was what it was like to be a grandmother.

  At last, Kenny laid his fork down and scrubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. Margot cringed. “A napkin, Kenny.” She pointed one out. “That’s what they are there for.”

  He frowned. “You sound like my mom, Ms. Margot. Always with manners stuff.”

  “Manners are crucial to get along in the world and for getting people to give you want you want.”

  He peered at her with a curious expression and then shrugged. “I saw Mr. Oliver changed your locks. Make sure you put your chain on now so even if someone tries to pick the lock, it won’t work. Or it will at least slow them down long enough for somebody to hear. I made some booby traps at our place. Just let them try.”

  Margot blinked. “Booby?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, picked it up off YouTube.”

  “What is YouTube?”

  Kenny’s eyes bugged. “Are you serious?”

  Margot harrumphed. The question had slipped out, but she was used to asking Kenny about things she didn’t know. Well, when she was of a mind to get this type of reaction.

  “Hold on. I’ll be right back.”

  He dashed off, and she heard the front door shut. Kenny returned moments later with a laptop in his hand. He set it up on the table and opened it. A few clicks brought up the website he had mentioned, and he spun the computer to face her.

  “Look at this,” he said. A few more clicks, and a video popped up on the screen. Margot shrieked and slapped a hand over her mouth.

  She shuddered and lowered her hand slowly while her gaze locked onto the man in the video. “W-what is this, Kenny? How can this be? I-it can’t be legal.”

  “Don’t know if it’s legal to show how,” he said, “but there are plenty of videos on YouTube just like it. People teach you how to pick locks and make booby traps on this site. That might be how the guy who broke in here learned, or I guess he could have gotten it from being in the business or something.”

  “So anyone can learn how?” she asked, still not believing it. “I wonder if I shouldn’t alert Peter to this terrible website.”

  Kenny laughed. “It’s not terrible, Ms. Margot. Some people use it to do stuff they shouldn’t.”

  “I don’t like it, Kenny. Turn it off, please.”

  He closed the screen and shut the computer down. “I’m sorry if I scared you, Ms. Margot. I wanted you to know how to make yourself safer. I hav
e to be the man in my house and take care of my sister and my mom, but there’s just you.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she patted his cheek. “Thank you, Kenny. You’re a good boy. I’m sorry. You’re a good young man. Your mother must be very proud of you. I appreciate you looking out for me, and don’t worry. I have Odds. He’s like a watch dog.”

  “Who are you calling a dog?”

  “Okay, if you need me to set up a trap for you, let me know. I can teach you how to do it on your own at night. I’ll see you later.”

  Kenny lifted his sleeping sister into his arms and left. Margot stood in the kitchen doorway glancing at the saucer he had abandoned and the crumbs beside it. An empty coffee mug sat nearby that she had used, and dishes lay in the sink. She frowned. The cleaning up had taken time to get used to, but she still hated it.

  Margot carried the used dishes to the sink and turned on the water.

  “You forgot.”

  She turned to scan the table. “There are no more dishes, Odds.”

  “Not that.” He walked to her and circled her legs. She bent to scratch behind his ears. A purr started in his belly.

  “What did I forget?”

  “That weird glove lady wasn’t the only one you had just talked to.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “How is this the answer?”

  Margot straightened the thin stack of flyers on her lap, grinning. She peeked at the other passengers on the bus and then lowered her head so her mouth was close to the opening in her shoulder bag. “It’s perfect, Odds. I have an excuse to visit the animal shelter, and I can question Pamela Olsen about Lara.”

  A teenager across the aisle stared at Margot and bumped her friend. Margot’s cheeks burned. She turned her head to pretend an interest in the passing scenery. She knew Odds didn’t want her to take on anymore dog-walking jobs, and she wouldn’t. After all, it was likely the clients would be too far away for her to reach their place by walking, and riding the bus was out of the question.

  When they arrived at their stop, Margot stepped off the bus with snickering behind her. She knew the young people thought she was crazy, but it didn’t matter. Odds might have been onto something with what he had said, and she was determined to find out. Either Margot’s break-in was connected to Peter’s case, or it wasn’t.

  “I know we don’t have any proof,” Margot said to Odds once they were well away from the bus, “but I’m going on my hunch.”

  “You’re not a policeman.”

  “Never mind that, Odds. We’re going to solve this case.”

  They arrived at the animal care center, and Margot took a moment to catch her breath. Odds squirmed in the bag.

  “Oh, no you don’t, Odds. We agreed if I let you come you would stay hidden.” She looked up at the brick building with tall fenced areas to the side of it. “Can you imagine how many dogs are back there? You’ll give me a heart attack if you go off and have one of them chase you.”

  “They’re locked up. I have to stick out my tongue and wave my butt.”

  “Odds, that’s cruel.”

  He sat in the bag with an innocent expression. Margot decided he had never been innocent in his life. She pointed a finger at him.

  “Stay put, or we go home.”

  “We should go now. Remember how you always say the wrong thing?”

  “I do not!”

  “You get all flustered and shaky.”

  Margot pulled the door open to the shelter. “You know, Odds, you haven’t had any shots since I’ve had you.”

  Meow. Big doe eyes.

  She snickered and entered the building. The overpowering scent of animals almost bowled her over, but Margot powered through it. As she approached the counter with no one behind it, she noticed a tack board to her right. Only a few advertisements were there, and she snapped her fingers for the luck of the excuse being right before her.

  Dogs barked somewhere behind one of the closed doors, and two tiny offices lay empty beyond the counter. Margot spotted a bell on the glass display counter and dinged it. While she waited, she set her flyers down and peered at the offerings.

  “Look, Odds, cat treats. I wonder if they’re good.”

  “You said don’t come out.”

  “Don’t be petulant.”

  “May I help you?”

  Margot jumped at the unexpected voice, soft and hesitant, right in front of her. She looked up at the young woman, who might be in her late forties. Her flyaway hair, haunted eyes, pea green oversized sweater, and general bland appearance made it hard to determine her age.

  “Hello, I’m Margot Gardner,” Margot said with her brightest, friendliest smile. “I have a small business walking dogs, and I’m trying to find a few new clients. I was wondering if it might be all right to place a flyer on your board?”

  “Smooth.”

  Margot frowned. She thought over what she had just said. As far as she could tell, she hadn’t flubbed it, especially since Odds hadn’t put words in her mouth. Then she realized she had been so focused, she dove right into her excuse. All that was left for the young woman to say was yes or no, and her business was concluded.

  When no immediate answer came at all, Margot raised her eyebrows at the young woman. Thin hands with long fingers clasped together on top the counter. She held so still, almost like a statue.

  “Hello?” Margot ventured.

  “This I have to see.” Odds stuck his head out of the bag, and the woman came to life. Her dull gaze settled on Odds, and she reached out as if compelled to touch his head.

  “Unusual color,” she said.

  “Yes, I call it scamp silver,” Margot said.

  “S-s…?”

  The woman didn’t look up from Odds. She spoke as if her conversation was with him. “A cat person who walks dogs,” the woman mused.

  Odds looked at Margot. “Is she expecting me to answer?”

  “I wouldn’t call myself a cat person, exactly. Odds found me and uh never left, I guess.”

  “How many oddballs do you draw?”

  “Including you?” Margot said.

  Odds yowled in protest, and Margot chuckled.

  “Isn’t it possible to love all animals, dear? After all, you work in this center. I imagine you work with both cats and dogs? Or does your boss allow you to choose your favorite?”

  The woman hitched her shoulders, but she still hadn’t met Margot’s gaze. She appeared more comfortable looking at Odds and continued to direct her comments and questions to him. For his part, Odds had turned his back on her after his initial interest had waned.

  “That’s true.”

  Margot couldn’t delay any longer. She had to be straightforward because just like Odds had said, she wasn’t good under pressure. Not admitting why she really came was driving her bananas.

  “You’re Pamela Olsen, aren’t you?” Margot asked.

  If possible, the woman’s presence diminished even more. Margot had the ridiculous thought that if Pamela could, she would probably wish to disappear from Margot’s or anyone else’s notice.

  “One’s clumsy. The other is a frightened little mouse.”

  “Don’t be unkind, Odds.”

  The mousy woman peered around them. “Are you speaking to me?”

  “Um, yes.” Margot forced a bright smile. “Am I right? You’re Charles Olsen’s sister? I’m so very sorry for your loss, dear. It can’t be easy losing your only family.”

  Pamela began to sink, and Margot thought she was descending through the floor somehow, but it turned out she only took a seat on a stool behind the counter. Margot blew out a breath of relief.

  “Yes, I’m Pamela.” She clutched her hands in her lap. “I buried my brother last week. Did you know him?”

  “No, I didn’t, but I was the one who found him,” Margot admitted. She waited for Pamela to stir.

  Nothing.

  “I met Lara over at the bakery. I…” She took the plunge because there really wasn’t any other way to ap
proach the situation. “I wanted to know if you think there’s any reason why Lara would want to harm your brother? Like maybe she stood to gain something from the bakery?”

  Pamela gasped. She looked at Odds. “You mean you think she had something to do with him being robbed and shot?”

  “No, I personally think you’re crazy.”

  “Odds,” Margot whispered beneath her breath.

  He blinked at Margot. “What? She’s looking straight at me. Don’t you think that’s weir— Never mind.”

  Margot raised Odds from the counter and placed him back in her bag. He protested the whole way, but she tucked the straps onto her shoulder, refusing to listen to any more of his cheek.

  Pamela appeared just as disappointed she had no focus for her words as Odds was to be shut away. Her shoulders slumped, and she spun on the chair until she faced the far wall rather than Margot.

  “I don’t know anything about Lara,” Pamela said, “but there’s no money at all in the bakery. Once I pay off the debt my brother created keeping it open, there won’t be anything left.”

  “Are you sure?” Margot leaned on the counter, feeling excitement bubble. “Maybe there’s a hidden bounty in the walls or under the floor tiles.”

  For the first time, Pamela blinked at her, but her gaze skated away again, her cheeks pink. “If there was, wouldn’t she have already removed it?”

  “Oh.” Disappointment calmed Margot a little. She didn’t know where that bit of fancifulness had come from. Perhaps Nancy was rubbing off on her. In truth, she did like some mystery, and Charles Olsten’s case bored her.

  Margot didn’t want to think of Zabrina breaking into her home, and she had almost hoped it was Lara after she had visited the bakery. That darn Odds had been wrong. However, what could she have in her apartment in common with the apartment on the third floor?

  “Well if you’re sure there’s nothing that might make her break the law...”

  “I’m closing the bakery,” Pamela said with firmness. “There’s nothing there for anyone. It will be gone within a couple weeks. I wrote Lara a letter of reference although her work had nothing to do with me. She seemed like an okay employee.”