I slipped away immediately and rushed to greet her. “Hi,” I said, then whispered, “Are you all right?”
“Can you take Biscuit for a walk with us?” she asked, and I knew the answer.
She was definitely not all right. And I needed to know more.
Twenty-Three
Unlike my walk with Jack, which had been a bit after sundown, we didn’t stay on the grass-lined sidewalks near the benches around the town square on this late, still sunny afternoon. Instead, Biscuit and I followed Billi and her dogs along some of the internal paths, away from most of the grass-covered hills and into the mini-forest of knobcone pine trees.
There were other people around, too—a few seniors being walked by their dogs, some teens texting as they strolled, and a young couple looking more into each other’s eyes than at the uneven path, possibly foreboding a tripping disaster.
For a short while, Billi and I talked only about our dogs, the pets at Mountaintop Rescue, and how I’d give her some slightly aging treats when she left to bring to her beloved shelter.
Beloved by both her and me. That was why, before long, I realized that my momentary fizzle about continuing with my murder investigation meant nothing.
Not just my ability to host an adoption event at the Barkery was at stake. The lives of a lot of shelter animals would be on the line if the wrong person was sent to prison. No one could run Mountaintop Rescue as well as Billi did. And from what she said, the Knobcone Heights Police seemed to be zeroing in on her as their main suspect and were about to take her into custody.
“I get the impression, when I talk to Chief Loretta sometimes,” she said, so softly I had to strain to hear her over the crunch of dried leaves beneath our feet, “that she and the others are bending over backward not to give me the benefit of any doubt just because I happen to be a City Councilwoman. Or maybe they have some kind of feud with City Council that I’m not aware of and they’re taking it out on me. Or—well, maybe for some reason that they haven’t revealed, they actually think I’m guilty.”
She told me that she was now being interrogated nearly daily about her relationship with Jack, when she’d met Wanda, what she’d thought of her—all repetitious stuff, as if they hoped she would stumble and reveal a prior lie.
I’d considered Billi a bit too thin before, but now, even just a few days later, she looked nearly emaciated, her attractive face narrow, her red Mountaintop Rescue shirt and jeans baggy. I wanted to run back to Icing and grab some cookies or cupcakes and force-feed her—not that it would do any good.
“But I’ve told them everything,” she said when we stopped as Fanny circled for an imminent squat. Billi’s expression as she looked at me was both heartrending and frantic. “I thought I actually cared for Jack, but now I wish I’d never met him. I’ve told the detectives the former but not the latter, although I’m fairly sure they can interpret that from the way I talk about him now. I certainly didn’t like the ideas Wanda conveyed, that she and Jack had a relationship at the same time he was working on one with me. But kill her? I guess I wished her out of our lives, but certainly not that way.”
“I know that, Billi,” I said softly. “But what makes you think they’re about to arrest you?”
“They told me so. At least with Ted Culbert present, thanks to you. A lot of what I learn is when he’s with me, making sure I don’t say anything I shouldn’t. But he isn’t able to shut them up as they threaten me. The one who’s making the most threats is Detective Bridget Morana. She talked to you, too, didn’t she, when you were a murder suspect?”
“Yes.” We started forward again once Billi had cleaned up after Fanny. “I’ve also been asked some questions since Wanda’s murder, but they’ve all come from Wayne Crunoll. Maybe they think I like him better so I’ll reveal more of what I’ve learned during my unofficial investigation. But I don’t really know anything, and all I’ve told him about you is that you’re innocent.” I didn’t want to get into the other things I’d discussed with Wayne. My suspicions about Jack, and of Harris and Elise as well, might give her inappropriate hope. “I’d be glad to talk to Ted about some more ideas I have, though.”
“Oh, would you?” Billi sounded thrilled, as if I’d suddenly saved her.
“Of course, although I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be.”
“Even if they don’t lead to anything, I’m sure they’ll be helpful.” She paused, then said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Carrie. I’m innocent, of course, but if they arrest me … well, would you take over managing Mountaintop Rescue? I’ve got some assistants and volunteers who’d be helpful but they don’t really know how to run a business, especially a non-profit like that. I’m so worried about our residents if I can’t be there to take care of them.”
So was I. I wouldn’t be the ideal choice to take over the shelter, though. Taking on a third career would not be a good idea.
But I couldn’t say no. “I’ll do all I can to help,” I promised her. I could only hope that kind of involvement would never become necessary.
All in all, our conversation continued to eradicate my brief idea about walking away from the murder investigation. I had to figure out who’d done it, and fast—not only for Billi’s sake but for all the animals at Mountaintop Rescue.
It was a good thing I’d had that conversation with Billi before Biscuit and I headed to Reed’s for dinner that night. He was bringing in roast chicken, he’d told me, and when we spoke on the phone that afternoon, he’d heard in my voice that I wanted to talk.
What I’d intended to tell him was how frustrated I’d become ever since he’d told me not to get involved in the first place, so I was considering backing away.
Now, though, as I sat across his kitchen table eating a chicken leg and some spinach on the side, I told him about my conversation with Billi.
“I need to get this figured out fast,” I all but cried out.
“You need to let the cops figure it out fast,” he contradicted me, but the expression on his handsome face appeared understanding despite his words. His dark brown eyes locked on mine, even as the corner of his mouth quirked up. “But we’ve gone through this before. You’re going to keep at it no matter what I say. So let me repeat: be careful. And keep me informed. Maybe I can help in some way, too.”
I leaned toward him over his oval, dark wood kitchen table to give him a kiss. My movement encouraged some scrabbling paws on the vinyl wood-grained floor beneath us. We’d given both Biscuit and Hugo some bone-free pieces of chicken as we started to eat, and they clearly thought that had just been an appetizer. My lips met Reed’s briefly, and only then did I allow myself to laugh.
“Thanks.” I sat back again. “For the kiss, and for the offer to help. I’ll let you know if I think of anything you can do.”
“I know a couple of things you can do to take your mind off what you’re up to for a short while.” His grin looked teasing, but I knew he wasn’t.
“For one, you’d like me to come in for a shift at the clinic to-
morrow?”
“You got it. Will you?”
“Sure,” I said. I just hoped no hugely helpful idea came to me about finding Wanda’s killer that I absolutely had to follow up on tomorrow afternoon.
Reed and I had kind of gotten into a routine for the nights that I either ate at his home or we wound up here after going out to dinner. We walked the dogs as soon as we were done eating. It was cool and dark and slightly drizzly by the time we went outside, but the streetlights in his neighborhood were abundant.
When we were done with our walk and Hugo and Biscuit seemed happy, we returned to the house, where Reed and I partook in some of our own kind of recreation—the second thing to temporarily get my mind off my murder investigation.
But Biscuit and I didn’t stay late. As always, I had to get up early to start baking for my shops, so we soon headed home.
>
Neal’s car was in the garage when I parked. He was awake, watching a rerun of a football game played the day before.
He put it on pause when Biscuit and I came in. “You okay, sis?”
Something apparently showed on my face: my determination. My earlier ambivalence that I’d had to slough off. Or maybe enjoyment of my time with Reed, although that wouldn’t have garnered Neal’s questions.
The answers I gave him, as he petted his Bug and observed me with concern, mostly involved my conversation with Billi.
“So you really thought you’d stop snooping into this killing?” he asked when I was done. “Sure, you’ve now got a good reason to continue, but I know you, sis. You’d have kept at it anyway.”
“Maybe.” Then I added with a huge grin, “Of course!”
He accompanied Biscuit and me outside for a final walk of the night, then returned to the living room while Biscuit and I started getting ready for bed.
I’d hoped to fall asleep fast that night, but instead I thought long and hard—and not for the first time—about what to do next to try to solve Wanda’s murder. Talk to the VimPets execs when they got here, maybe? Be pushier with Jack? Something else?
Did I reach any conclusions?
Only that I was going to be tired tomorrow.
Surprise, surprise. I had a hard time getting out of bed the next day when my clock radio came on, but I managed to do so. Biscuit wouldn’t have allowed me to sleep in anyway. She and I were soon at the shops and I started baking.
The morning progressed as usual. My two assistants for the day were Dinah, the first to arrive, and Janelle, who joined us a couple of hours later.
The shops were only moderately busy that day. I wondered if I’d been too optimistic in my conclusion about how well things were going. But most days we made a lot of sales, so I told myself not to get pessimistic about everything.
Including about solving Wanda’s murder. I hadn’t formed any great new idea about what to do next that would definitely result in a resolution.
Go see one of the detectives and act as if I knew something they didn’t, to get them to trade secrets? I had kind of done that with Wayne, but I doubted he’d continue to play along.
Talk to Jack some more? Tell him I’d heard he was about to be arrested? Oops—or was it supposed to be Billi?
In actuality, I had no idea if either of them was that close to being taken into custody. It might just have been Billi’s nerves. Or maybe the detectives were pulling an ace out of the hole so they could scare her into revealing all—whatever all might be.
Check in with Harris again? Elise? And ask them what?
The morning passed quickly despite not having a huge number of customers. Things perked up as lunchtime drew near, so I hung around to help out, but only till one o’clock. I’d promised Reed I would do a shift at the clinic, and when I called in, I learned when he had scheduled me.
As always, I brought Biscuit along to put into doggy daycare. Things at the clinic that afternoon were relatively tame—mostly regular patients in for checkups and shots, a dog with kennel cough, and not a whole lot else.
It was, as always, enjoyable to see Reed again. And to touch base with my dear friend and mentor Arvie.
Still, the day could be considered a bit boring—except I needed a boring day so I could keep my mind active and planning. Yet nothing particular came to mind.
Not until I was leaving the clinic. That was when I received a call from Jack. “Hi, Carrie,” he said. “Do you have dinner plans? I’m not sure I can get you an invitation to join us, but you can at least show up at the resort and meet a couple of the VimPets executives. They’re here now to talk to the police—and also to pay their respects, in their way, to Wanda.”
“Of course!” I promised to be there at six o’clock. I’d have to get my assistants to close up shop, but that should work out fine.
As I hung up with Jack, my phone rang again. It was Neal. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, Carrie, but—”
“But some VimPets executives are in town and staying at the resort. Right?”
“Are you psychic?” he asked, sounding surprised.
Oh, if only I was.
Twenty-Four
Fortunately, Dinah was not only reliable in getting things done at the shop, but she was also great at closing it up. As my only full-time assistant, she’d helped out that way before, and she was willing and able to do it that night, too.
As I drove Biscuit home—I didn’t want to leave her at the shops nor take her along, since I had no idea how things might work out that evening—I once again thought of the possibility of granting raises to my helpers.
I also thought about the few hours today when the shops weren’t particularly busy and recognized that the raise couldn’t happen tomorrow.
But mostly, I thought about what awaited me. Would I get to eat dinner with Jack and his bosses and, hopefully, learn what they thought of their difficult, and now deceased, employee Wanda?
Was one of them Marv Langwell, who evidently had had a relationship with her—or at least she’d wanted him to?
Biscuit didn’t seem to mind when I took her inside the house after a brief walk—maybe because I left her as she was eating dinner. I drove as quickly as I could to the resort.
Should I hope for psychic visions? Mind reading? I still wished I could do that, since I doubted, however things worked out that evening, that anyone would admit to having killed Wanda, even though I might in fact be in the company of her murderer.
Which still could be Jack.
The resort parking lot was nearly full, but I found a spot near the entry from the street. That gave me a short hike up to the main building, and time for my thoughts to keep churning.
Reed and I hadn’t made dinner plans for that evening, which was a good thing. I didn’t want to tell him what I was up to until it was over. I already knew what he’d say again anyway: be careful. And keep him informed. Both were fine with me.
When I entered the lobby, it looked a bit less crowded than I was used to seeing, which made it easier for me to slip off to the right toward the reception desk. Neal was speaking with a guest when I got there, so I just waved. He stopped briefly, and I had the impression he wanted me to wait, but I figured I could come back and talk to him later.
Right now, I hoped to find Jack—and the people he was with. The most likely place was the restaurant, since he’d mentioned dinner.
As I’d thought before, it was a good thing I liked the food at this place, in case I yet again wound up eating there while trying to accomplish my real goal of the evening: meeting the VimPets guys and subtly—or not—trying to learn anything they knew or suspected about Wanda and her demise.
Would they accuse their own employee, Jack? They just might, especially if one of them was the killer.
I peeked into the bar first thing but didn’t see him. Maybe, if I stayed for dinner, I’d fortify myself with a glass of wine … but not in there.
I kept going, past the spa’s entry and the door to the patio, then reached the restaurant. Although I liked this place a lot, I didn’t like the fact that I could probably stride through it blindfolded.
Blindfolded. I recognized that as a good analogy for a couple of things: Wanda’s murder, since I assume she hadn’t been expecting any kind of attack. And now, here I was, figuratively blindfolded since I hadn’t determined, and couldn’t prove, what had happened to her.
For now, eyes wide open, I strode into the restaurant through the arched doorway, attempting to look in charge and confident so I’d give the VimPets men the right impression—that they should pay attention to me and answer my questions. Or at least buy a recipe or two from me, which was the original reason Jack had wanted me to have a relationship with their company.
My assumed confidence wavered almost im
mediately when, looking around, I didn’t see Jack. Despite the resort’s lobby being fairly empty, the bar had been busy, and this restaurant was, as usual, buzzing with activity. Still, I’d always been able to spot whoever I’d intended to meet fairly quickly when I’d come in here before.
Not this time.
I continued to stand there. The evening’s hostess appeared busy, talking to someone near the kitchen. Might she know Jack? I couldn’t recall her name, but I’d seen her here before. Maybe she knew some of the most frequent diners, but—
“Hi, Carrie.” I turned to my left to see Gwen standing there. “Is anyone joining you? Do you want a table tonight? If so, hold on just a minute and I’ll get you set up.”
“I’m looking for Jack right now,” I told her. “I think he’s here having dinner with a couple of guys. Not sure if I’m joining them, but I want to say hi.”
Gwen’s eyebrows raised slightly, as if she was assessing my relationship with Jack again. I resisted the urge to tell her it was business, all about recipes, whatever … but she said, “He’s on the patio out back. I can take you to him.”
“No need,” I said, “but thanks. Now that I know he’s there I’ll find him.”
Jack and his party of two executives were at a table at the patio’s rear, beneath one of the warming lights and overlooking the lake’s shoreline and water below. Jack had probably wanted the best location for his bosses and had maybe even paid the hostess a little extra to find him such a good spot.
Once again I assumed the demeanor of a confident businessperson ready to negotiate terms for selling some dog treat recipes, if I so chose. Wending my way through occupied tables, I strode over to them and stopped beside Jack, who sat on the right side of the group.
“Hi,” I said, then looked at his companions. “Gentlemen, good to see you.”
Bad to the Bone Page 20