Or not so ridiculous …
I’d need to talk to Jack about it, but in a way that wouldn’t give away my silly idea to him. I didn’t have to do it in a hurry, though. I could ponder what was the best approach to take, one that didn’t tell him what I was thinking—I hoped.
“What’s going on, Carrie?” Neal’s inquiry sounded like a clap of thunder in my head, even though it hadn’t been very loud. But it had definitely resounded in a way that disrupted my odd train of thought.
“Actually,” I said, “I’m not really sure. But you know my imagination. I’ve got some strange ideas percolating, probably nothing particularly useful. But I need to—”
My phone rang, and I was relieved to take it out of my pocket. I didn’t want to answer the questions Neal was clearly about to ask, judging by the frown he’d leveled on me just before opening his mouth to spit out whatever had come to him.
Fortunately, my caller was Reed.
Our conversation was brief. Since I’d promised to keep him informed about what I learned while snooping into Wanda’s murder, I described my dinner with Jack and his bosses.
I told Reed that I still didn’t know who’d killed her, but I hadn’t eliminated any of the people I’d come to consider as suspects, some of whom I’d seen at resort that evening. Plus, there were others I wanted to find out more about.
I kept my latest suspicion to myself. After all, I had nothing really to base it on, except that I had an open mind as to suspects. And the list in my head kept expanding.
But maybe this would be the one murder in town lately that the cops would solve without my actually figuring it out. Which would be fine with me, even though I’d already spent so much time trying to solve it.
“Hey, if that’s Reed, be sure to invite Hugo and him on my hike this Saturday,” Neal called from the other end of the sofa. “You and Bug are coming, aren’t you?”
Biscuit, hearing her special name, moved away from where she lay at my feet to grab some attention from her uncle as I complied with his order. “Neal’s doing a hike on Saturday morning. Biscuit and I are going, and he wanted me to invite Hugo and you, too. Can you come?”
“I doubt it,” Reed said. “I’m scheduled at the clinic that day.”
“Oh, well.” I was disappointed, but of course I understood.
If my brother hadn’t been in the same room I’d have provided Reed with a sexier good night, maybe even thrown him a kiss over the phone. As it was, we just discussed that I’d have a shift at the clinic the following day, and also maybe on Friday. “See you tomorrow, then,” I told him and said goodbye.
“So when are you staying the night with him again?” Neal asked, standing up to go to bed.
I wanted to say it wasn’t really any of his business, but it actually was, since it would let him know when the house was free for him to invite Janelle. “Not sure, but I’ll let you know as soon as we make plans.”
“Good. So I probably won’t see you till tomorrow night—maybe. Right? Unless I wake up before you leave tomorrow for work, which I hope I don’t.”
Since Neal seldom did, I didn’t think he should be overly con-
cerned.
Something occurred to me then. Yet another visit to the resort?
I had a potentially good reason for it.
“Can you join me for a quick coffee tomorrow morning at the resort restaurant?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said, his brow sinking in a dubious expression. “But why?”
Without answering, I called Biscuit. “Time for our last visit outside,” I told her. “Good night, Neal. I’ll let you know tomorrow when I’m on my way, and also as soon as I know about my plans later in the day.”
My day in the shops on Wednesday morning started out so busy that I considered postponing my coffee with Neal. But I knew my own compulsive nature, so I instead rallied my assistants—three of them that day, fortunately: Dinah, Frida, and Vicky. Once they were all there and the doors to the shops were about to open, I told them about my erratic schedule that included a meeting that morning plus a vet clinic shift that afternoon.
As always, they were wholly supportive and sweet and practically said they’d boot me out the door soon so I could meet up with my brother. Plus, they promised to take their usual loving care of Biscuit so I could leave her at the shops with no worries.
Once more, though, I struggled with how I’d supply all of them with raises. Was it possible, after this murder was solved, that I’d still be able to sell a new recipe or two to VimPets, get some kind of royalty on its use, and pass on the profits to my employees?
I hoped so. And that made it feel even more necessary for me not only to figure out who’d killed Wanda, but to do so quickly.
And so, at around nine that morning, I sat in the corner of the not especially busy resort restaurant with Neal, who assured me he had officially taken a permitted break.
“Yes,” he told me as we waited for our server to come take our orders, “those two VimPets executives are still registered here as hotel guests, but they’re now scheduled to leave tomorrow.”
Would that still give me the time I needed to collect the information I was after? Surely it would.
And their leaving now wouldn’t keep the cops from going after them if it turned out one of them was guilty.
Gwen came over to take our order. “Coffee and wheat toast for me,” I said to her.
Neal ordered coffee, too, plus a cinnamon roll. The ones here at the resort weren’t as good as the ones I made, but Chef Manfred Indor had provided the recipe before being dropped as head chef of this restaurant, so they were at least okay.
“Wait just a second, Gwen,” I said once we’d both given our orders. I kept my voice low. “I gather that those executives from VimPets are still staying here. I know you said otherwise, but do you have any regrets about not pursuing the job? If so, this would be a good time to bring it up again.”
“Like I said, I’m not interested anymore,” she said quietly, leaning so that her head was between Neal’s and mine.
“That’s definitely good for the resort,” I said. “And now I want to ask something else, and I’m sure you’ll understand why. Wanda apparently had something going with that Marv guy, and possibly manipulated him as well as Jack. Maybe she had something similar with the big wheel, Fitzgerald, too. Did you ever hear either of those men discuss, with or without Jack, anything that Wanda had done to manipulate anyone?”
“Nothing specific, but I—well, I shouldn’t say anything because they’re still our guests.” She turned to look at Neal, as if she expected him to tell her to stay quiet.
My brother may not have known exactly what I was up to, but he remained on my side. “It’s okay. I won’t say anything. Carrie’s seeing if she can figure out evidence against those men. It would certainly be better for Knobcone Heights if one of them turned out to be the killer.”
“Or if Jack did,” Gwen said, still quietly. “He’s not from around here either, and I thought he’d be the one the cops would decide had done it.”
“Could be,” I agreed. “Wanda clearly tried to manipulate Jack, in public and evidently in private, too. Did he tell you anything about it? Did you hear anything about her when you were looking into a possible job with the company?”
“Maybe. Well, I’m not sure.”
“You said that the execs are scheduled to leave tomorrow,” I said, looking at Neal, who nodded. “I thought Marv might stay to go on the hike on Saturday.”
“All he said was that he’d like to come, but if he did, he’d have to come back up here since he’s got to go back to LA first,” Neal explained.
“Got it. They’re not exactly rushing off, though. If one of them murdered Wanda, he must not think the cops are zeroing in on him. But Gwen, if you think of anything potentially helpful that either of them said, I hop
e you’ll let me know. Oh, and the cops too, of course.”
“Sure.” Gwen moved, then, standing up and looking toward her right. “Look, I’d better get back to work. But—well, I’m sure you guessed that if I had to pick the killer from out of the air, I’d go for Jack, not necessarily his bosses. Can I provide the cops with anything to prove it? No. But I believe Jack and Wanda had a strange relationship for a while. Now, sorry, I’ll go get your order, and I’d better take some others, too.”
As she walked off, Neal looked at me. “I’m sorry too, sis. I know you don’t want it to be Jack, but if I had to guess whodunit, he’s the one I’d focus on. Unless, of course, you have something on those executive guys that you haven’t told me.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m considering another angle. Anyway, I hope Gwen hurries with our stuff. We both need to get back to work.”
Neal and I didn’t talk about the murder during the short time we enjoyed our coffee and snacks and conversation with each other. I paid our tab, thanked Gwen, and aimed a questioning smile toward her as I said again, “Hope you’ll keep our conversation in mind and let me know if you think of anything helpful.”
“I will,” she said.
A few minutes later, as I walked Neal back to the registration desk, I promised I’d explain what all that had been about—eventually. But I had more to look into as a result.
“Thanks, bro,” were my last words to him as I took off for my shops. “See you later.”
Twenty-Six
At least i got one more shot at asking questions of one of the VimPets execs later that morning. Marv came into the Barkery, as promised, a while after I’d returned. He had to ask for me, since I was in the kitchen.
I didn’t know who’d inquired about me till I headed into the shop. I wasn’t entirely surprised to see who it was. After all, I’d promised him some sample treats.
“My dogs will be happy when I bring these home to them,” he told me, half leaning on the glass-fronted display case. He’d clearly edged his way to the front of the store, since we had a fair-sized crowd there also looking at our treats. He had to raise his voice a bit to be heard over the conversations of our other customers, who stood around the area in groups, some with their dogs. Fortunately, Dinah was in the Barkery too, helping serve them.
Marv looked a little less smooth than when I’d seen him before, since he wore jeans and a VimPets sweatshirt instead of business wear. He nevertheless managed to look at me as if assessing me with his inquisitive blue eyes. He was taller than me, as he would have been with Wanda. He flirted with me, and apparently had with her, too.
Had he snuck up to Knobcone Heights and killed her?
Maybe, although he was now only one of the suspects on my list.
“What, you won’t try them yourself to see if any of the recipes are worthy of VimPets attempting to buy them?” I smiled, since I was kind of teasing, although I was interested in his reaction.
“I just might.” He grinned back. “And maybe then I’ll be able to talk you into it. But I unfortunately don’t think I’ll be able to bring my dogs here this weekend for your brother’s hike. Maybe for the Halloween one, though.”
“That would be good.” My mind raced to figure out questions to ask the guy now, during what might be my last opportunity to interrogate him—at least for nearly two weeks. “I wonder if Wanda’s murder will be solved by Halloween. I know she grated on the nerves of a lot of people—Jack, you, and Fitzgerald, for example. Anyone else you can think of?”
“You’re one nosy lady,” he said, although his smile didn’t waver. “Do you want a list of VimPets employees she worked with? Outside vendors and others I think she had contact with? I figure any one of them could have had reason to do away with our dear Wanda.”
“Any rise above the rest as suspects?” I wasn’t about to stop pushing. “Did you hear any particularly bad arguments? Or hear about any you weren’t privy to?” Or did you kill her?
His eyes moved upward as if he was thinking. Then he looked back at me and responded to my spoken questions. “Not really. I’ve pretty much kept myself from speculating about what happened to Wanda, and I’m not about to tell you any ideas I have, not without any kind of proof. But I gather Wanda did rile at least one person by getting in that person’s way … and now I’ll shut up. Hey, could I get some of those great-looking biscuits shaped like dog bones?”
He pointed into the display case, and the rest of our conversation remained friendly and general and had nothing to do with what had happened to Wanda.
Marv clearly hadn’t admitted to killing Wanda himself, and my suspicion of him wasn’t the strongest anyway. Not that I was exonerating him, but his attitude suggested that he hadn’t been that close to Wanda after all. I really didn’t know what to think anymore, considering how she’d talked about him—and talked to him.
And in any case, he could be innocent of murdering her. Plus, he apparently had a suspect in his mind, someone who he wasn’t naming.
Might it be someone I was thinking about, too?
I saw Reed that afternoon when I went to the clinic for my shift. I followed the usual routine and left Biscuit with the great folks at the facility’s doggy daycare.
I went inside and changed, and my first assignment that day was to help Reed in an examination room with a large sheepdog mix with a small attention span. The dog was there just for a checkup and shots but still required more control than his middle-aged human mom could provide on her own.
The pup’s exam turned out fine. So did my stamina, and his owner seemed most grateful.
“You might want to give him some very special treats,” Reed said. “Have you tried any of the products at Barkery and Biscuits?” He aimed a wink at me.
Reed asked his patients’ owners this once in a while, even though I’d told him I didn’t expect it and didn’t want them to think he was prescribing anything—even though I did consider all my treats to be healthful, especially since they’d been developed for the clinic’s patients in the first place.
But I thought it was sweet and thoughtful of him to do it anyway, whenever he did.
This owner looked confused at first, and I quickly explained that the Barkery was one of my businesses and told her how I’d come up with the recipes.
“Wonderful!” the lady said. “I’ll have to give it a try.”
When she left, I thanked Reed. “It’s especially nice that you help me to promote the Barkery, but you don’t have to.”
“Of course I don’t. But I believe in what you do there, Carrie.”
I shot him a warm grin—that grew cooler when he continued.
“Even though I can’t say the same about your amateur sleuthing. How are things going, by the way?”
I could have given him a huge and sorrowful rundown on where I was—or wasn’t—in looking into Wanda’s murder. I kept it brief, though.
“I’ve got suspects besides Jack and Billi, of course. I’m still looking into all of them. And if you’ve got any suggestions—besides telling me to back off—please let me know.”
“That’s my biggest one,” he said, sounding sad. “But I’ll let you know if I think of anything else. Hey, I can’t make dinner tonight, but how about tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I said. That would be something to look forward to. So was Neal’s hike this Saturday, even though Reed wouldn’t be there.
I was also happy that I’d have another shift here at the clinic in two days. And that all seemed to be going well at my shops.
But despite having some new—and aging—ideas about solving Wanda Addler’s murder, I wasn’t sure what to do next.
The next few days passed without my doing anything regarding my investigation, just thinking about it. A lot.
I considered asking someone for advice—but the big question mark about that was who?
I kn
ew I could use Neal as a sounding board. Reed, too, maybe—depending on his mood. He certainly was smart and intuitive enough to help me with ideas, but I felt sure any suggestions he had would be prefaced, or ended, with advice to back out or just tell the cops all my evidence-free ideas.
The good thing—maybe—was that I stayed away from the resort for several days. I didn’t go to the Knob Hill Pet Emporium either, despite still considering Harris to be someone I might want to ask further questions of. Maybe he’d interacted with some of my other highest-up suspects—one in particular. But I was still pondering whether to talk to him again, and, if so, what I’d say.
I had no interest in speaking with Elise, despite her remaining a potential suspect in my mind.
Notwithstanding my concerns about it, I considered running my ideas by Reed when we got together for dinner at my house. I decided against it, though. Despite my mind darting off to my stalled investigation now and then, I didn’t bring up Wanda’s murder at all, and neither did Reed.
Earlier on Thursday, my only foray away from the stores had been to dash off to Mountaintop Rescue for an hour or so. My excuse was to bring some leftover treats for the dog residents. My real goal was to talk to Billi, and I succeeded. I even discussed with her my latest visits to the resort and who I’d seen and talked to and questioned. She said she’d never met the VimPets execs but felt bad for Jack, not only because of his having to work so hard to keep his job but also because he, like her, was a murder suspect.
Speaking of suspicions, that led me to believe even more that she still cared a lot about Jack and had hoped for some kind of real relationship with him.
Would she still want that if both of them were finally cleared as persons of interest because the real killer was found?
The person I now was considering with particular interest wouldn’t be an obstacle between them. At least I didn’t think so.
But I still believed my own suspicion to be so weird and off-base that I tried not to think about it much, except to figure out what to do next. And so far, I hadn’t decided.
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