Ruff Justice

by Laurien Berenson

  “I should think the answer to that is obvious, Melanie. You didn’t ask the right questions.”

  * * *

  Later that evening, I put in a call to the Klein residence in Norwalk. Tamryn’s father picked up. I gave my name and told him I was interested in talking to his daughter about a possible dog-sitting job. He passed the phone to Tamryn, who said she’d be delighted to meet with me. We made an appointment at a Starbucks in New Canaan for the following afternoon.

  “It’s at three o’clock,” I told Sam as we were feeding the dogs. “There’ll be plenty of time for me to pick Kev up at school, then drop him and Faith off here before I go.”

  The Poodles were spread out around the kitchen, waiting politely for their dinner to be served. Bud was jumping up and down like a pogo stick, woofing excitedly under his breath. Yet again it occurred to me that his previous owners had a lot to answer for.

  “Tamryn . . .” Sam repeated the name thoughtfully. “That’s the girl that Daisy used to know?”

  “Yes. She works with Amanda Burke. I’m hoping she might be able to give me a lead on where Amanda went.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  I looked at him in surprise. As always, I’d kept Sam apprised of what I’d been doing—for the most part anyway. This was the first time he’d voiced a concern. “Why not?”

  “Maybe it’s time for you to think about the fact that Amanda is an adult, and by all accounts a capable and independent woman. There was no indication of foul play, and the text Abby received appears to confirm that. So Amanda must have had a good reason for leaving. And if she doesn’t want to be found, perhaps that should be her prerogative.”

  I considered what Sam had said while I added chopped meat to the soaked kibble and stirred the mix together. Together we set the bowls down in a long row on the kitchen floor.

  “Abby is worried about Amanda,” I said finally.

  “And yet . . . when Amanda felt the need to get away, she didn’t turn to her sister for help.”

  That was a good point. And one I hadn’t previously considered. But still . . . I couldn’t stop searching for Abby’s twin now.

  “I think Amanda is hiding because she knows something about Jasmine’s death,” I blurted.

  “Is that so?” Sam smiled faintly. All right, so maybe I hadn’t told him everything. “Now that we’re clear on your motive, is it all right if I advise you to be careful?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I’m always careful.”

  I was half afraid he’d call me a liar. Sam kissed me instead.

  That worked for both of us.

  Chapter 14

  The New Canaan Starbucks was on the busy corner of Park and Elm Streets, just across from the train station. The interior of the small coffee shop was crowded, but the afternoon was warm enough to sit outside in the park-like area in front of the building.

  Having already used up all my extra calories on cake, I ordered a plain dark roast coffee, added a little milk, and carried it out to a table beneath a tree. Though the branches above me were still mostly bare, the scent of spring was in the air. I took off my jacket and draped it over the back of my chair. I’d arrived a little early for our appointment, but I was happy to enjoy the warm spring sunshine while I waited.

  Promptly at three o’clock, a girl I assumed was Tamryn Klein came striding around the corner. She looked hardly older than a teenager and was so skinny that I wondered if her bones rattled when she walked. Dressed in jeans, Doc Martens, and a leather jacket, Tamryn had black hair cut in a spiky bob and numerous piercings in each ear. She skipped up the wide stairs and was about to enter the building when she saw me sitting by myself and headed my way instead.

  “Are you Melanie Travis?”

  “Yes, I am. You must be Tamryn.” I stood up and we shook hands.

  “Let me just get something to drink,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  She returned five minutes later with an espresso. Tamryn pulled out a chair and straddled it. “Golden Retriever,” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m great at guessing people’s dogs. You look like a Golden Retriever. Am I right?”

  I started to correct her, then thought better of it. “Before I answer that, tell me what a Golden Retriever person looks like.”

  She tipped her head to one side and studied me. “Cute, friendly, soft. A little fluffy around the edges.”

  I sputtered out a laugh. I had definitely been eating too much cake.

  “Nope, not even close,” I said. Considering how far off the mark Tamryn’s first guess had been, it seemed prudent not to let her try again. “I have Standard Poodles.”

  “Okay. Right. I can see that now. I bet you have the silver ones, don’t you?”

  “All black,” I replied.

  “That’s great then. I’m terrific with big, scary dogs. In fact, you might say they’re my specialty.”

  I sat back in my seat. This interview wasn’t going at all the way I’d expected it to. “You think Poodles are scary?”

  “Nah, not really. I’m just repeating what I’ve heard.”

  “From whom?” I asked curiously.

  “You know.” Tamryn waved a hand in the air. “Word on the street.”

  It was a stretch to imagine that there might be a street where people were talking about scary Poodles. But whatever.

  “So how did you get my name?” she asked.

  “Amanda Burke dog sits frequently for my aunt.”

  “Oh yeah? That’s cool. Amanda’s great.”

  “She is,” I agreed. “She does a terrific job. In fact I was trying to get in touch with her when someone gave me your name.”

  Tamryn gulped down a shot of espresso. “I do a great job too.”

  “I’m sure you do. But I was surprised that Amanda didn’t return my calls. Do you know where she is?”

  “Nope. Sorry. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  “I was told that the two of you are pretty good friends.”

  “Really?” Tamryn’s gaze narrowed. “Who told you that?”

  I thought fast and said, “Jasmine Crane.”

  “Oh.” Abruptly her shoulders slumped. The girl looked stricken. “That was a horrible thing.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Were you and Jasmine close?”

  “We just worked together some, that’s all.”

  “I know that Jasmine was getting pet-sitting jobs for Amanda. Did she do the same for you?”

  Tamryn gave me an odd look. “Yeah, that’s right. I’ve been trying to move out of my folks’ place. Jasmine knew I needed some extra cash. She said she might be able to help out.”

  “That was kind of her.”

  “I guess. But that’s what Jasmine was like. She always liked to have a hand in everything that was going on.”

  I could smell the heady aroma of my coffee, sitting neglected in front of me. I picked it up and took a sip. “Jasmine was a talented artist too. Did you ever see any of her paintings?”

  “I guess. Maybe a couple of times.” Tamryn didn’t sound terribly impressed. “Jasmine had this friend, Sadie. Mostly I saw them when she was there. Sadie always seemed to be moving that art stuff around. She’d ask if I could help her load or unload her van. What did she think I was, a pack mule?”

  “She probably just figured that you were young and strong,” I said. “Why were Sadie and Jasmine moving the paintings—did they say?”

  “Something about all that art being too valuable to store in one place. So they divided it up between their two houses for safekeeping. I thought that sounded crazy, but what did I care about two old ladies and all that junk as long as they didn’t make me cart it around for them?”

  Hmmph, I thought. Old ladies indeed.

  “So.” Tamryn changed the subject. “How many dogs do you have?”

  “Six,” I replied.

  She was impressed. Either that or she was calculating how much she could charg
e to take care of that many dogs.

  “All Poodles?”

  “Five Standards and one small mixed breed.”

  “And everybody gets along?”

  “Yes, they all coexist quite happily.” Not that they had a choice. I was alpha dog in my house.

  “Any meds or special needs?”

  I shook my head.

  “Fenced yard or do they need to be walked?”

  “Fenced,” I told her.

  “That’s great. It makes things easier. How often do you anticipate needing me to dog sit for you?”

  Good question.

  “It varies.” That answer ought to be vague enough. “But I wanted to get someone lined up so I’d be ready when the time came. I was planning to talk to Amanda, but as I said earlier I couldn’t seem to locate her.”

  I paused in case Tamryn wanted to comment. She didn’t. She just tipped back her glass and polished off her espresso. I was running out of time.

  “I was wondering if you’d ever met Amanda’s boyfriend, Rick?” I said.

  “I guess I might have run across him a time or two,” Tamryn replied.

  “What did you think of him?”

  “He’s not my type, but he seemed okay.”

  “Rick was friends with Jasmine too, wasn’t he?”

  “Friends?” Tamryn pushed back her chair. She was ready to go. “That’s not what I would have called it.”

  “Really? That’s interesting.”

  Tamryn shrugged like she didn’t agree. “Those two had some kind of business deal going on. I don’t know what it was about, and I didn’t want to know. Once I overheard Rick go all Incredible Hulk on Jasmine. He said she’d better do what he wanted or she’d be sorry. After that I didn’t want any part of whatever they were getting up to.”

  She jumped out of her seat. I quickly followed suit. It sounded as though Amanda wasn’t the only one who might have been afraid of Rick.

  “After you heard Jasmine had been killed, did you tell the police about what you’d heard?”

  “What? Are you kidding me?” Tamryn skirted around the table and lobbed her empty cup in a trash bin. “First of all, I don’t even know any police. And second, it was none of my business.”

  “Now with Jasmine gone, I guess you’ll have to find your own dog-sitting jobs,” I said.

  Tamryn gave me another odd look. As if there was a subtext to our conversation that I didn’t understand. I wished I knew what I was missing.

  She fished a card out of her jacket pocket and handed it over. “Don’t call my parents’ house again, okay? You can reach me at the number on here.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I watched her walk away, then went and tossed my own cup in the trash. I was sure that Tamryn knew more about Amanda’s disappearance than she was telling me. But each time I’d brought up Amanda’s name, Tamryn had shut me down.

  Damn, I thought. I must be losing my touch.

  * * *

  Thursday morning I was standing at the stove, frying bacon. Usually our weekday breakfasts consisted of something like cereal and a banana. Pour, peel, eat, and go kind of meals. But I was feeling a little guilty about how many of the parenting chores I’d placed in Sam’s lap.

  All right, a lot guilty.

  And since I’d gotten in touch with Sadie Foster the night before and set up a meeting for this afternoon, things weren’t about to improve anytime soon. Hence the bacon. And the waffles.

  “It smells good in here.” Davey was the first one through the kitchen door. He threw his backpack on the counter and went to the refrigerator to pour himself a glass of orange juice. “What’s the occasion?”

  “No occasion,” I said, turning the bacon to crisp the other side. “Can’t I just spoil my family once in a while?”

  “Well . . . sure.” Davey cracked a grin. “But you never do.”

  I waggled the cooking fork in his direction. “Watch that mouth.”

  Unfortunately my impromptu move splattered a few drops of bacon grease on the floor. Bud made a dive for my feet. Tar was right behind him. Within seconds, I was surrounded by scrambling canines.

  “I didn’t even dribble that much,” I said, looking down at them. “And it’s gone now. Go away.”

  Faith, who had too much dignity to join in the action, was sitting and watching from the other side of the room. We’d been a team for a long time. She knew perfectly well that I’d slip her a piece of bacon when no one else was looking.

  “What’s gone now?” Sam asked. His hair was wet from the shower, and the rugby shirt he’d just pulled on was still rumpled around his torso. He looked way better than bacon and waffles.

  “Bacon grease,” Davey informed him.

  Sam’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  Kevin came flying into the room behind him. Kev’s overalls were correctly fastened and his shoes were on his feet. The correct feet. It was almost a miracle.

  “Hey, squirt.” Davey held up his own glass. “Want some orange juice?”

  “No.” He shook his head firmly. “Apple juice.” Davey turned to me. “Do we have apple juice?” “Refrigerator door, bottom right,” I told him.

  Sam walked over to stand beside me. “What’s with the bacon?”

  “Mom’s spoiling us,” Davey said with a smirk.

  “Since when?” asked Sam.

  I turned and gazed around the room. “Anyone who’s fresh doesn’t get bacon. Or waffles. Kevin and I will have more for ourselves.”

  “Not me,” Kev announced. “Don’t like bacon.”

  I propped my hands on my hips. “When did that happen?”

  My younger son shook his head. He didn’t know.

  Everybody liked bacon, didn’t they? How could I possibly have the only child who didn’t? So much for making breakfast an occasion. I was beginning to think I should have just slept late.

  “There’s a catch,” said Sam. He knew me all too well. “What is it?”

  “Umm . . . I won’t be here this afternoon. I have an appointment.”

  He raised a brow. “Hairdresser? Acupuncture? Podiatrist?”

  “None of the above. I’m going to see Sadie Foster. We’re meeting in Weston.”

  “Oh well, then. That clears things right up.” Sam turned and mouthed to Davey, Who’s Sadie Foster?

  Davey shrugged in reply.

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you,” I said.

  “As long as it doesn’t cost us bacon,” Davey replied, “we’re okay with that.”

  Just once, you’d think I’d be able to get in the last word in my own house. Since that didn’t seem to be happening, I shut up and served breakfast. It was excellent, if I do say so myself.

  * * *

  To my surprise, Sadie Foster had wanted to meet at Jasmine Crane’s house. That seemed like an odd location to me, but I wasn’t given a choice. Right from the start of our phone conversation it had been clear that Sadie was calling the shots. She told me she was a busy person, and that if I wanted to impose on her limited time, I could meet her at Jasmine’s at two-thirty.

  “And don’t be late,” she said before disconnecting. “I won’t wait for you.”

  Bearing that in mind, I showed up ten minutes early. Sadie’s blue minivan was already parked in the driveway. She opened the front door to the house as I was getting out of the Volvo. Apparently we wouldn’t be skulking around the backyard during this visit.

  “How come you didn’t bring the big Poodle with you?” she asked as I approached. “I liked her.”

  I’d left Faith at home because after a long morning at school, I thought she could use a break. But Sadie’s comment was a pointed reminder that it was the Poodle who’d broken the ice between us the last time we’d met. Maybe I should have rethought that idea.

  “I didn’t want to impose,” I said.

  Sadie flapped a hand in the air. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  Her face was les
s swollen than it had been ten days earlier. But the area around her eye was still discolored with bruising. Trying not to stare, I wondered how Sadie was doing with Jasmine’s dogs, Hazel and Toby.

  Before I could ask, she spun around and went into the house. I paused on the front step and peered inside. The interior of the small, one-story home was only dimly lit. Someone, perhaps Sadie, had drawn all the curtains. Jasmine hadn’t even been gone two weeks, but the house already had a vacant, abandoned air.

  “Well?” She stood in the small hallway. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Are we, um . . . allowed to be in here?”

  “I told you—Jasmine and I were friends.” Sadie sounded exasperated. “It turns out I was right, and she didn’t have any family. In her will, she made me executor of her estate. Jasmine left just about everything she had to a couple of charities. I’m in charge of liquidating her assets. Mostly what that means is that I’m getting this house ready to sell. So yes, we’re allowed to be in here. Are you coming or not?”

  I was.

  Sadie closed the door behind me. Then she walked around the house, giving me a quick tour of the rooms. Maybe she was practicing for when the house went on the market. Or maybe she wanted me to see that she was very much at home in Jasmine’s space.

  “Living room, dining room, two bedrooms over here,” she said.

  We paused and poked our heads in each.

  “Just one bathroom. Most buyers will probably want at least two, but there’s nothing I can do about that. The kitchen is this way. There’s a little sunroom behind it. We’ll sit and you can tell me what you’re doing here.”

  As Sadie strode toward the kitchen in the back of the house, my footsteps slowed. I paused for another look around the hallway.

  To my surprise, I’d seen very little artwork on the walls. There was a framed poster in one of the bedrooms and a single watercolor in the living room. I knew that Sadie had removed a number of Jasmine’s paintings from the house. Even so, I’d have expected to see evidence of where they’d been hanging.

  “Ye gods, you’re slow.” Sadie stood in the doorway of the sunroom with her hands on her hips. “I don’t have all day, you know. It’s not like I didn’t already have my own life to take care of, before Jasmine put me in charge of all this.”