“Very interesting,” Wayne said. I’d been glad to see that he’d removed a notepad from a pocket and had taken notes as I talked.
Maybe he actually would look into them as possible suspects. Even though he’d come here apparently ready to run me in for some kind of interference in his case—or maybe just because his superiors wanted to appease the angry Ethmans.
But not go after them as possible murder suspects?
Would they, or wouldn’t they, now that I’d told Wayne some of the details about my conversations yesterday?
I considered mentioning Les Ethman, too, since he also had confronted me about this latest murder. I didn’t really consider Les a suspect—well, I hoped not, anyway—but would the cops?
“You know,” I began, “the Ethmans are very protective of one another. If you look at one or two, you might consider looking at others as well.”
Fortunately, I heard the bell chime in Icing so I had an excuse not to answer any questions Wayne might have.
“Excuse me,” I said, standing quickly.
“Sure. Thanks. And I will want some treats to take home for the dogs. Maybe some from next door for my wife and me, too.”
Boy, had his attitude changed. That was a good thing.
Fortunately, my wonderful helper Vicky arrived just then. I figured she’d get the gist of what was going on when I greeted her warmly and asked her to take care of Detective Crunoll and his dogs.
Then I sped into Icing to help the several groups of customers who’d arrived there.
When I had a chance to go back into the Barkery a short while later, Wayne and his dogs were gone.
My concerns weren’t, though. A few of the people and their dogs who’d been out walking before were there, and I passed out sample treats as I’d promised. They, in turn, oohed and aahed over Biscuit as well as some of our products. And they bought treats, including some of the items their dogs had sampled.
I was glad I couldn’t concentrate on my earlier visit from the detective, but it remained on my mind.
And when Billi Matlock called later in the morning, after Frida had come in, I decided that my lunch break would be spent meeting with my friend.
We met at Cuppa-Joe’s. It was kind of in between our respective locations, and the Joes were also friends of Billi’s.
I got there first and found a table in a corner, inside, which was, as always, crowded. I’d left Biscuit at the Barkery, so I didn’t have to sit on the patio. Billi arrived only a few minutes after I did, joining Joe and Irma at the table with me.
And under the table—though she probably shouldn’t have been inside the coffee shop—was Sweetie, the adorable golden toy poodle-terrier mix who resembled Biscuit, whom the Joes had adopted from Mountaintop Rescue a few months ago. When they’d heard Billi was coming, they brought her in from her fenced area near the door for just a few minutes, they told me, so she could meet with a couple of her favorite people in the world—Billi and me.
As always, it was delightful to spend time with my pseudo parents, but both of these wonderful seniors rose as soon as Billi got there. “You two have things to talk about,” Irma said.
“But come back soon, when you have time to talk to us,” said Joe.
“Did you tell them what was going on?” Billi asked in a hushed voice when they, and Sweetie, were gone. She looked pale and as exhausted as I felt. No, more so, and with good reason. Her outfit was casual, a loose T-shirt and fraying jeans, and I assumed she’d come straight from Mountaintop Rescue.
“I didn’t have to,” I told her. “Rumors about the latest murder are flying around town, I assume.” I glanced at the nearest occupied tables, but no one paid us any attention—even when I used the word “murder.”
“And around City Council.” A look of utter sorrow passed over Billi’s face. “Even Les Ethman suggested I might want to take a leave of absence while all this is going on.”
“Really? Les? Although … well, he may be trying to protect an Ethman, or the family’s reputation.” And himself? Could be, although I hated to think of Les as a murder suspect. He was so much nicer than most of the Ethmans that I hardly thought of him as one of the family. But of course he was.
“What do you mean?” Billi asked. I waited to answer for a few minutes as we both placed our orders with server Kit.
I requested—what else at Cuppa’s?—coffee, as well as some cheese and crackers for us to share. Billi ordered a cafe mocha, as if hoping the rich chocolate taste would help reflavor her sadness.
As I had for the detective, I described for Billi my meetings with the Ethmans the day before. I also let her know that I’d passed the information along to the cops.
“Oh, my,” Billi said. “Then they have someone else to look at, maybe more than one. But do you honestly think they’ll zero in on an Ethman?”
“That family is no more elite than the Matlocks,” I told her. “And you should remind them of that.”
“Maybe so.” Her lips pursed. “But the detectives who keep interrogating me don’t seem to care that I’m a Matlock anyway, although Chief Loretta tries to assure me that all will be well.”
“As long as they don’t zero in on you as their main suspect,” I concluded. “At least—well, are Jack and you still an item at all? Do you at least cry on each other’s shoulders about being murder suspects?”
“A little. In fact, we’ve begun seeing each other briefly, nearly every day. He comes into the shelter for a short while to help socialize the animals and talk to me. Although—Carrie, I’m not sure Jack didn’t do it. I know he was upset with Wanda. And—well, you of all people know that Jack isn’t exactly the most loyal of guy friends.”
“Very true.” I recalled again that he’d once acted interested in me as a potential girlfriend, but I’d realized over time that he liked me more as a potential way to improve his position in his job.
I’d thought his interest in Billi was different, though.
“Anyway, at one point I thought he was actually falling for Wanda,” Billi continued, “since she was going after him kind of the way he went after some other women. Although—well, for a while, I thought it was different between Jack and me, that he was genuinely smitten with me even though he might continue to use the others.”
“But he wasn’t actually interested in you?” I looked at her with sympathy.
“I don’t know. We don’t talk about it much, even when we get together now. But, yes, we do commiserate. And he does talk to me, as if it helps him to lay things out on the table.”
“I assume that doesn’t include a murder confession.”
Kit arrived with our order so we quieted down and thanked her, then started indulging. Billi dug into the cheese and crackers along with me, and I was glad. She’d always been slim, but I wondered if she was eating much at all now. Or if she was spending a lot of time exercising at the spa to help get her mind off things, and losing weight that way. Or maybe I was just imagining her gauntness.
Soon, though, I directed our discussion back to where it had been. “You know I’m trying to figure out what really happened to Wanda, right, Billi?”
“Yes, and I appreciate it. As to whether Jack confessed to me, he is kind of opening up, but not about killing Wanda. He says he has regret about using people, mostly women—like you. And he says there’ve been others, like someone he promised a job to, who works here in Knobcone Heights and wanted to leave. And women in other cities he visited for VimPets sales purposes. But—well, Carrie, he still tells me he cares about me. A lot. And he says that when this is all over with, he’ll show me.” She shook her head and took a long swig of mocha. “But I’m not sure now that I want him to. I don’t know what I want.”
We didn’t stay much longer. I gave Billi a hug on the street in front of Cuppa’s since we were going in different directions.
She’
d said she didn’t know what she wanted. Of course, she was talking about Jack, and I wasn’t sure whether it was good for her to remain in contact with him or not.
But one thing I was sure of. I did know what I wanted.
I wanted to find out who really killed Wanda, so Billi could finally return to her life.
Twenty-One
The last thing I talked about with Billi, as we were about to part ways on the sidewalk outside Cuppa’s, was the adoption event we had intended to hold at Barkery. It was now iffy, or at least its timing was.
She’d made it clear, when we’d talked before, that she wanted to do it as much as I did. Maybe even more. So, I kept reminding myself, I didn’t only have to help figure out who’d killed Wanda—I had to do it fast, so we could turn our attention to planning and carrying out the event.
Assuming, as I definitely did, that it wasn’t Billi.
After my conversations that day, I couldn’t help wondering how to find out whether the cops were talking to any VimPets people besides Jack, and wishing I’d asked this before. I had to assume they were, anyway, although since the company was in LA, it was likely that they’d sought cooperation from the LAPD, at least for any initial interrogations.
I really, really wanted the killer to be someone from VimPets. The most likely candidate, of course, was the executive Wanda seemed to be having an affair with—whom she used in her attempt to derail Jack’s career in favor of her own.
Which meant there was another good reason to talk to Jack. Alone this time. Not with a group of friends and relatives, and not at the bar.
As a result, I called him as I walked back to my shops. Passing by on the town square side of the street, I watched several people playing with their dogs on the grass, all on leashes since it wasn’t a dog park. But it was a place people frequently brought their dogs. I’d have to send one of my assistants there with treat samples, rather than having them pass the samples out on the sidewalk in front of the stores.
Jack answered immediately.
“I’ve got some other ideas to run by you,” I told him. “Any chance we can get together to talk, just ourselves?”
“I’d love to hear them. Anything. In fact, I’ll come by your stores at closing tonight—six o’clock, right? I’ll bring Rigsley. I’ve been leaving my poor dog alone too much lately. It may get dark, but we can walk Rigsley and Biscuit in the town square since there are lots of lights there. And if we decide to, later, we can go grab a drink somewhere. Okay?”
Privacy with Jack, in public. I liked the idea.
On the other hand, there was one person I wouldn’t mind joining us. I’d let Reed know, in case he could come. He might be able to “accidentally” show up at my stores around the same time.
I wanted to talk to Jack, but I didn’t want to be foolish about it. He could, after all, be a murderer, even though I doubted it.
“Sounds good,” I said. “See you later.”
Reed, unfortunately, wasn’t available then. An emergency cancer surgery had been scheduled for a dog that evening, and I certainly didn’t want to interrupt that. I even offered to come in if he needed a technician, but he’d already lined up Yolanda, so that was fine.
My evening wasn’t fine, though. I considered whether to ask Jack to join me at the resort instead, but we’d been there before—with others along, of course—and I hadn’t heard as much as I wanted about what he was thinking.
So, okay, not Reed—but maybe one other person. I decided to call Neal, and as soon as I explained what was going on, my brother made it clear he’d be the one who would just happen to show up at my shops when they were closing.
I wanted to hug my little brother and probably would, later.
I ended my conversation with Neal right outside the Barkery, and then Biscuit and I hurried inside. There were a few customers, and Frida was helping a young couple with a terrier mix choose some treats. I quickly put Biscuit into her crate and hurried to help another group who stood pointing at treats in our refrigerated display case.
As soon as I could, I popped into Icing and found that Vicky also had her hands full providing service there, where one group was attempting to buy enough baked goods for a school party that night and was taking up a lot of my assistant’s time.
And so things went for the rest of the afternoon.
I wasn’t surprised when six o’clock rolled around, but I was sorry I hadn’t had any free time to mush around in my head all the things I wanted to ask Jack.
Oh, well. I felt certain they’d come to me.
I’d said goodbye to my assistants and was still tidying the Barkery when I heard a woof outside. I looked out to see Rigsley near the door with Jack behind him.
I opened the door quickly and gave Rigsley a hug as he hurried in and ran right to the glassed-in display case. He knew where the treats were kept.
Because we were closed, I locked the door behind Jack, then let Biscuit out of her enclosure. Both dogs stayed around the display case, and I couldn’t resist. I went behind it and got out a couple of apple treats, giving one to each of them.
“So, hi, Carrie,” Jack said, smiling at me. He wore a black hoodie and appeared more relaxed than the last couple of times I’d seen him. Did that mean he was off the top of the cops’ suspect list? As much as I hoped the answer was yes, I was afraid that it wouldn’t bode well for Billi.
“Oops, was I ignoring you?”
“I know who’s important around here.” Which was generally true, but I had lots of questions for Jack, which put him at the top of the list of things I was thinking about at the moment.
A knock sounded on the window and I looked in that direction, figuring I’d see Neal. I was correct, and I let him in.
“Looks like my brother wants to go on the walk with us,” I told Jack.
“Yeah, I’m rehearsing for the next hike I’m putting together,” Neal explained. His blond hair was long enough to be mussed up already, so I figured we would run into a breeze on our walk. Neal had donned a sweatshirt that read Hiking Builds Character, highly appropriate for my character-filled brother.
“Fine with me,” Jack said. “In fact, that hike sounds inviting, too. You’ll have to tell us what you have in mind for it.”
“Sure.”
I went into the kitchen, then, to check that the back door and the door into my office were locked, then headed back into the Barkery with Biscuit’s leash. I made sure the lights were out in both stores and those doors were locked, too, once we were all on the sidewalk.
There wasn’t much traffic, either of the pedestrian type on the sidewalk or the vehicle type on the road in front of us. When we crossed Summit Avenue to reach the town square, we found the lighted area populated by some teens playing soccer on the grass beyond the benches, as well as a couple of other dog walkers.
Just another evening here in Knobcone Heights. And I certainly didn’t feel uncomfortable being there with Jack—especially with Neal and the dogs along.
But did he happen to be a murderer?
I didn’t plan to ask him outright this time. I wanted to make sure he answered my other questions.
I led Biscuit down a path beside the soccer area, and the others joined us. I held back a little, to start walking right beside Jack, holding Biscuit’s leash as he held Rigsley’s.
“You know what subject is foremost in my mind,” I said as we walked, and then related to him my conversation with Detective Wayne Crunoll. “He seemed interested in my version of my confrontation with both Harris and Elise, but I gathered that one of them, probably Elise, had contacted the cops about my supposed attack on Harris at his shop. I don’t feel like stepping away from trying to figure out who killed Wanda after that, not when I’ve been put even more into the police’s crosshairs, so to speak.”
“I feel for you, Carrie,” Jack said with a sigh. “Do I ever. Bu
t at least you’re not considered a suspect this time.” He stopped briefly. “Are you?”
“No, of course not.” But then, as we started walking again, I added, “I shouldn’t phrase it that way. I know better. But I don’t believe they’re thinking of me as a murder suspect, just someone who might be interfering with their investigation. Which might be true, at least till they figure out who really did it.”
I stopped speaking then, as Biscuit found a tree trunk—of course, a knobcone pine—particularly interesting and started sniffing it.
“It wasn’t me,” Jack said, as if I’d just accused him.
“Of course not,” I said again, although this time I remained even less sure. “But I do have some questions for you, and you might not have the answers.”
“Hey, how about if I grab those leashes and take the dogs for a run?” asked Neal, who’d come up beside me. I wasn’t thrilled about the interruption, but I did like the idea.
“Sure,” I said, pulling the loop of Biscuit’s leash off my wrist and handing it to Neal.
“Sounds good to me, too.” Jack did the same with Rigsley, and he and I stood there for a minute, both grinning, as Neal and the dogs loped off in front of us. Then Jack looked back at me. “So what are those questions?”
“Well, I couldn’t get away with asking Detective Crunoll who all they were considering to be suspects, but I have to assume that at least one of your VimPets executives may be on their list, possibly their short list.”
We started down the path Neal had taken into the more shadowy areas of the park, without the dogs this time, but there were still a few pets and their people nearby.
“You mean the man she was interested in, or at least pretending to be interested in. That would be our Products VP, Marv Langwell. Well, you may get an opportunity to interrogate him yourself, Carrie, if you’re so inclined. He’s let me know that he and our company president, Fitzgerald Jagit, will be here in Knobcone Heights in a couple of days to talk directly to the cops about Wanda’s death and to show their caring and mourning and all that.”
Bad to the Bone Page 18