Bad to the Bone

by Linda O. Johnston

  Was that too obvious an explanation, though?

  Did Dinah know Wanda and have reason to rid the world of her?

  Oh, heavens, this was getting out of hand—as did all my murder investigations.

  The others had borne fruit, though. I’d figured out who the killer was. It didn’t hurt—did it?—to suspect everyone till I’d narrowed things down.

  But even Dinah?

  I left the restaurant then and slipped into the crowded lobby, aiming for the bar.

  I still carried my glass of wine, and I wondered how many more I’d drink that evening before I felt able to face all the stuff going on around me and to me—like another murder investigation.

  Entering the lounge, I ignored the loud hum of many conversations and the blare of the sports announcer from the television on the wall. I looked around, finally spotting Reed and Neal at a table near the bank of windows at the back. They weren’t alone.

  Not only was Biscuit with them, but I saw Janelle, too, sitting beside my brother.

  That wasn’t really a surprise, since they were an item. And I figured that having Janelle here might actually work to my advantage. We could talk shop, not murder … I hoped.

  Since it was getting late, all they could probably see of the lake now were the reflections off it, which might have been romantic for Neal and Janelle if Reed wasn’t there. Maybe I’d be enough of a distraction, joining them, to make their evening more fun. I doubted Biscuit’s presence had been enough.

  As soon as I maneuvered my way through the dense crowd and reached the table, Biscuit stood on her hind legs and pawed at me—for attention, or because my darling pup sensed my disquiet? It didn’t matter. I bent to hug her as Reed pulled the chair beside him out for me.

  I obediently rose from my knees and sat down on the chair, putting my glass on the table only after I took the last sip from it. “I didn’t realize you were coming, Janelle,” I said. She had a bottle of beer in front of her, like both of the guys did.

  “I didn’t either, but Neal and I had talked about getting together this evening and he called to tell me he was still here, and why. I hope you don’t mind, but it seemed like a good idea for me to come.” My part-time assistant had changed out of the casual, promotion-oriented wear I insisted on at the stores and into a red and orange print dress with buttons down the front. Since I now sat beside her, I could see that she wore dressy, low-heeled pumps instead of her usual purple athletic shoes. She looked lovely—and I thought she should take a selfie, especially because she was a photographer.

  “Well, glad you’re here. Are you all ready for dinner?”

  That was one of many words that Biscuit recognized, and she rose on her hind legs again to paw me. I laughed.

  “Looks like we’d better get a table for five, Bug,” Neal said.

  They’d already taken care of payment for their drinks—it appeared that Les would take care of Janelle’s meal, too, whether or not he knew it. We all headed outside to the patio, where we went through the gate in the low, ornate fence to the restaurant area.

  Stu was, in fact, our server at our table for four. It had plenty of floor-space beneath and around it for Biscuit, had an overhead heater nearby, and was positioned near the fence overlooking the lake. Our orders here were somewhat standard: again, a salad for me, and Janelle asked for one as well. A burger for Biscuit, and sandwiches for the men.

  And yes, another glass of zinfandel for me, beer for the guys. Janelle was still nursing her last one.

  “So how was your discussion with Les?” Neal finally asked. I was wondering who’d bring it up. “We kept speculating about what you and Les were discussing—well, what aspect of it, anyway. Now that you’ve made up your mind to investigate, did he try to talk you out of it like the rest of us?”

  “No, he just wanted to make sure I didn’t zero in on one particular suspect. And that’s all I’m going to say. I don’t want to get into which suspect or why.” Or anything else that had been said, like Les’s claim he might have wanted to try to bribe me … “In fact,” I finished, “this whole subject is now off limits for the night, and preferably forever.”

  “For now,” Reed amended.

  Even so, it was in fact the last time Les or murder or Wanda was brought up that night.

  Which suited me just fine.

  This time, Biscuit and I rode with Reed when we finally left.

  We didn’t go back to the stores to get my car. Not right away.

  And it wasn’t because I’d drunk too much to drive.

  I hadn’t ordered any more wine, though, and eating had helped to rid me of the slight buzz I’d achieved before. Not that the buzz had emptied my mind of the things I didn’t want to think of.

  Even so, Reed made his point clear when he drove from the resort parking lot toward his home in a nice, hilly residential area south of town. “The nightcap I’ll give you tonight will be water, tea, or coffee. Okay?”

  I laughed. “What, you don’t want to get me drunk so you can have your way with me?”

  “I’m hoping I can have my way with you while you’re still at least somewhat sober.”

  I laughed—and he did. I had my way with him, as well.

  Later, as we lay snuggled together in Reed’s bed, Biscuit snoring softly on the floor beside me, the things we hadn’t yet discussed imposed themselves back into my mind.

  I must have stiffened, since Reed’s arms pulled me even closer. “I won’t tell you not to think about—whatever—but just remember I’m here for you.” I felt him kiss the top of my head.

  “Thank you.” I couldn’t help it, though. I wasn’t able to control my thoughts—or my fears, not at that moment. Maybe that was the result of having drunk too much earlier. I pulled the covers to me tightly and moved a bit away from Reed.

  There wasn’t much light in his room, but enough entered through the windows for me to see how messy his wavy black hair was, how his short shadow of beard darkened his cheeks and chin.

  He was a good-looking guy. A nice guy. A wonderful guy who saved animals’ lives on a daily basis.

  “I want you to promise me something, Reed,” I said suddenly, surprised at the fierceness in my own tone.

  “What’s that?” He cocked his head a little in obvious puzzlement.

  “Promise you will never get involved in a murder—either as a suspect or a victim.”

  There was no humor in his laugh, only a touch of surprise. “I definitely promise you that. Or at least I want to.”

  “Good.” I snuggled back up against him, but only for a minute. “It’s getting late,” I said regretfully.

  “And even though tomorrow’s Saturday, you still have to get up at an ungodly hour to get to your shops,” he added.

  “Right.”

  We both rose to get ready, since Reed had to drive Biscuit and me to our car at the shops. He came over to me and pulled me back into his arms. “I really care about you, Carrie. I wish you’d promise me the same thing you asked me to promise you. I know you can’t, and won’t. But like I said, please remember that no matter what, I’ll be here for you. And—”

  “And?” I prompted as he didn’t continue.

  “I really, really hope this is the last time you get involved with a murder.”

  Fifteen

  I had a hard time dragging myself out of bed the next morning. Good thing that Biscuit woke up with the clock radio as usual and was raring to go—outside, that is. I could hardly refuse.

  Which got me up and going, too.

  Also as usual, I reached the shops before any of my assistants, even though I was running a couple of minutes late. I took Biscuit into the Barkery, hugged her for her alertness and for getting me going, and rewarded her with an apple treat left over from yesterday. Then I dashed into the kitchen and began preparing products for Icing.

&nb
sp; Janelle joined me about twenty minutes later. She looked as exhausted as I felt—and I figured she’d spent at least as much time as I had after dinner last night having fun with the guy in her life, who just happened to be my brother. She’d brought Go with her today, so Biscuit had a playmate.

  “Do you want to talk this morning about what you didn’t want to talk about last night in front of the whole gang?” Janelle asked from across the counter as she started getting ingredients together for carob-and-peanut-butter biscuits. She was dressed for work, in a beige T-shirt with the Barkery and Biscuits logo on it.

  “Nope.” I glanced up for a moment from where I was rolling dough for chocolate chip cookies before I looked back down and smiled. But her question caused my mind to start rehashing my discussion with Les last night.

  Well—not really. It wasn’t as if my mind had ever left that subject since I’d gotten up and into the shower that morning.

  “Neal told me to push you to talk about it.” Janelle’s tone sounded amused. “I’d have done so even if he hadn’t pushed me to push you.”

  I laughed. Then I grew sober. “I’m still mulling it over,” I said honestly. “I don’t want to talk about speculations and all.”

  “But we’re all speculating about what you said last night. Who is it that Les doesn’t want you to zero in on? I think it must be Billi since she’s on City Council with him. But Neal—well, he knows Les’s family a lot better than I do and he’s trying to figure out which one of the Ethmans Les wants to protect. Himself?”

  Maybe, I thought again. As well as Harris. But I didn’t want to mention either of them now.

  “Sorry,” I said. “You can tell my brother you tried to get me to talk. Right now, though, I need to take some scones out of the oven and start stocking the shelves in the Icing display case.”

  “That’s just an excuse,” she said, sticking her bottom lip out as if in a pout.

  “You got it,” I agreed, but I did as I’d said and began taking baked goods into Icing.

  It took me about fifteen minutes to put things on display and make sure they looked good enough to eat—and buy. It was nearly seven o’clock by then. When I popped into the Barkery, I wasn’t surprised to see Dinah there, also waiting for the day to begin.

  I looked at the display case in that shop first, glad to see that lots of fresh dog treats had magically—not!—appeared on the shelves behind the glass, although not all the shelves were full yet. I then went over to the area where Biscuit and Go had been confined, presumably by Dinah, and gave them pats on the head, although they seemed to believe they were getting treats.

  “Later,” I told them.

  Then I did what I’d been wanting to do all along while trying to appear nonchalant. I headed behind the counter, where Dinah was still arranging treats, and asked, “Did you have a good dinner at the resort last night?”

  “I wondered if you’d noticed me,” she said, her brows raised in an expression of innocence—which increased my curiosity about why she’d been with Jack. “I hoped you hadn’t.”

  Well, maybe not so innocent.

  “Yep,” I said. “I did. What did Jack and you talk about?” As if I couldn’t guess.

  “The poor guy is so upset,” Dinah said, finishing her ministrations with one of the trays and placing it inside the display case. “He’s been interrogated by the police, which didn’t surprise him, but he hates that they’re still after him as a major suspect in Wanda’s death. He was angry with her, so he understands why he’s under suspicion, but he swears he would never have hurt her—except to get her fired, if that had been possible.”

  “From what I gathered, she was more likely to get him fired,” I countered. “So what did you think? Would you cross him off your suspect list now? And—well, why were you even talking with him?”

  Turns out my guess had been correct. “Research,” Dinah said. Her grin lit up her round face, and I couldn’t help smiling back. “With all the murders around here—well, you know I like to write. I’ve been working on a fictionalized version of the earlier killings and now I can add this one, too.”

  A horrible thought passed through my mind. I had no idea how Dinah plotted her stories—but what if, in the interest of getting her book published in the future, she’d decided to expand this terrible situation in Knobcone Heights? I knew who’d committed the two earlier murders—thanks to my own snooping—but what if Dinah had decided three murders were better to write about than two? Could she have chosen Wanda because she was aware of the dissension between the VimPets employee and her colleague? Or maybe the fact that someone else who was at odds with Wanda was also a big wheel in the local government—Billi.

  How fun for her, maybe, that there were two such credible suspects.

  And if my musings turned out to be correct, then what about four murders? Five? More?

  I worked with the electronic cash register as I stood there by the counter, not really making any entries but telling myself that I was making sure it was ready for that day’s business.

  But Dinah had worked for me for months now. She knew me. And I thought I knew her.

  “Uh-oh,” she said softly.

  Concerned she had found something wrong with some of our biscuits, I hurriedly looked over toward her.

  She was staring at me, not any of our products.

  “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” I tried to sound confused. I actually was confused. Surely she couldn’t read my thoughts—could she?

  Yes, she could and did. “I can see the wheels turning in your head,” she said. “You’re trying to figure out if you should add me to your list of possible murder suspects, aren’t you? I figure you’re going to look into this case, too, right?”

  I let out a deep sigh even as I smiled at her. “You’re right on both counts. I don’t want to consider you a suspect, but I’m keeping my mind open right now. You can help me close it. Did you kill Wanda?”

  “Of course not!”

  Not that I’d have expected her to say otherwise. I didn’t want to suspect Dinah, although my mind kept circling around that very difficult possibility.

  But what I said was, “Great. That’s what I figured.” I quickly pulled my phone out of my pocket. “It’s almost seven. Time to open the shops.”

  “And time,” Dinah said, “for me to convince you that I didn’t hurt anyone except on the computer screen. Do I think Jack did it? I’d say you can remove me from your suspect list, but I wouldn’t eliminate him, at least not yet.”

  I pondered that conversation along with everything else regarding the murder—but was careful to keep those thoughts at the back of my mind, not allowing them to distract me from what was important to me as the day progressed: making sure each customer in both shops got what they were looking for and enjoyed their visit. Having three assistants working made that part easy, at least during the morning. But I had a shift at the veterinary clinic scheduled for the afternoon, so part of what I had to do was make sure Dinah, Frida, and Janelle all felt comfortable taking over when I was gone. Which they did. My vet tech shifts were part of the reality of my shops and their responsibilities. They were used to them.

  And even though murder investigations had a tendency to slip in, too, I was through talking about this one, at least here and now. Instead, red velvet cupcakes, chocolate chip cookies, and blueberry and cranberry scones for humans were my main topic of conversation, along with pumpkin-and-yam biscuits and carob-and-oatmeal cookies for dogs.

  Cece came in early, as discussed the previous day, and I gave her the extra scones I’d promised.

  Both shops stayed busy. Biscuit and Go had a lot of canine visitors in the Barkery while owners chose treats for their cute pets, most of whom had accompanied them, and Icing was always filled with both locals and visitors. Everyone seemed to enjoy hav
ing a sweet tooth.

  Noon seemed to arrive very quickly. My assistants got lunch breaks one at a time, starting then, and when I left at one o’clock, it meant there was one person to staff each store for an hour till all three assistants were back. I wouldn’t return till four o’clock or after.

  No one complained. Everyone encouraged me to do what I needed to.

  I really liked my assistants.

  I tried to keep my mind on them as Biscuit and I walked to the clinic, although my success rate was minimal. Murder suspects seemed to intervene, maneuvering through my thoughts like wraiths while I attempted to think of only good things.

  At least the walk wasn’t very long, even with my customary bagful of leftover dog treats for our patients in my hand. It was about as far to the clinic as it was to Mountaintop Rescue, although we turned left, rather than right, after crossing Hill Street. We immediately headed to the back of the structure that invariably reminded me of a blue Swiss chalet, and I opened the door to the doggy daycare facility for Biscuit.

  “Hi, Carrie,” called Faye from the check-in counter. The head daycare person’s voice grew softer and warmer as she added, “Hi, Biscuit.”

  I talked to the staff for a few minutes—Faye, Al, and Charlie. The more I got to know them, the more certain I was that their decisions whether to attend veterinary school were almost made. Positive decisions. I knew they’d talked to my fellow vet tech Kayle a lot, though. Kayle had already started applying to veterinary schools.

  Better that our topic of conversation remained on veterinary schools and doggy daycare than the other things on my mind that day.

  I left after watching Biscuit join a few other dogs that were playing with stuffed animals at the far side of the room—supervised closely by Al, fortunately. The other dogs, from a small shih tzu mix to a large, furry collie, were frequent visitors here, too, and they all seemed to get along well.