"I'm fairly certain that it has less to do with the paint shade and more to do with the fact that Patrick, Brent, and Andrew are getting together for boys' night out."
Olivia shrugged. "So? They do that every few weeks. Nothing wrong with that."
"In case you hadn't noticed, things haven’t been easy for Janelle and Patrick."
As Jackie reached for the door, Olivia frowned and grabbed her arm. "What are you talking about? Janelle is a little moody about the baby, and they're arguing about little things, but I wouldn't call that a problem."
"You're kidding, right? Just yesterday, Janelle walked out to her car in tears while she was on the phone with Patrick.” Jackie dropped her voice confidentially. “Something is going on. I'm hoping that she'll open up about it, tonight."
Olivia felt horrible. Was she so wrapped up in her proposal to Andrew and the death of the most-hated woman in town that she didn't even notice her sister was in pain? Real pain?
"Poor Janelle. I'll kill Patrick." With narrowed eyes, Olivia opened the door and marched inside. She’d expected to find Janelle baking, but the kitchen was empty, and no good smells hovered in the air. "Janelle? We're here. Where are you?"
"I'm upstairs."
Exchanging a look, the two friends headed up the steps and stopped short when they reached the nursery. Enough paint cans were stacked along the wall to cover five nurseries. "Wow," Jackie said slowly. "So you really did want us to paint?"
Rubbing her belly, Janelle was sitting in the oversized blue easy chair. "Of course I did. Why did you think I asked you to come over? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly fit to drink wine, for starters."
"I hate to point it out to you, but you're also not fit to paint, either," Olivia said carefully.
"Of course I'm not." Janelle looked at Olivia as if she'd grown a second head. "That's why I asked you two to come over. Patrick thinks I don't need to repaint, so he's not helping."
"Patrick. Yes." Jackie cleared her throat. "You guys have been fighting an awful lot, haven't you?"
Janelle immediately averted her eyes. "Sure, but we're just a little stressed about the baby. So, I know that I went with this pale yellow, but I'm thinking now that I need something bold. This is a bold kid I'm growing here. I can tell. I brought a few choices, so you two can pick out your favorite and go to town. I'll bake you some cookies while you work."
As Janelle struggled to her feet, Olivia immediately moved to block her sister’s path. "Janelle, we're not repainting the nursery. When the kid is old enough to understand colors, we'll paint the room the boldest color that we can find."
Suddenly, Janelle's face crumpled, and she started to cry. "Why won't anyone help me?” she wailed. “I just want to make this nursery the best for my baby. You're supposed to be the kid’s aunt and godmother!"
"Oh, don't cry, Janelle!" Olivia hurriedly searched for the package of tissues she always carried in her bag. "We'll repaint the nursery. You're right. It's far too pale. We definitely need to go bold. How do we feel about some orange trim?"
"Orange?" Janelle started to cry harder. "Orange is a horrible color!"
"A little help here," Olivia hissed to Jackie.
"This isn't about the paint color," Jackie said gently. "Come on, Janelle. Just talk to us. Tell us what's really going on so we can help."
Wiping away tears, Janelle sank back down in the easy chair and sniffed. "It's not just one thing. It's everything. I burned three batches of cookies this morning. I'm supposed to be nesting and—and—all motherly, but I'm doing the opposite. I'm picking fights with my husband. I feel like I'm going to be a horrible mother, and even after reading all the books, I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing. Yesterday, I even told Patrick that he's going to be a horrible father. I'm turning out to be a monster."
"Not a monster." Olivia perched on the arm of the chair and awkwardly tried to hug her sister. "It's hormones and fear talking. Patrick understands that."
"Patrick couldn't get out of the house fast enough." Janelle’s face crumpled again. "He's probably drinking beer with the boys and telling them how horrible I am.” She threw her head back and wailed, “I want to drink beer!"
Olivia looked at Jackie in despair. "Are we supposed to be comforting her because she can't drink alcohol or because she's moody?" she whispered.
Jackie shrugged and knelt down by Janelle’s other side. "You know, when my cousin was pregnant, she actually tried to file for divorce. Of course, she's still happily married, and her husband has never been more in love with her. Everyone reacts differently—and everyone has those same fears. No one really knows how to raise a kid. You just learn as you go, and if there's one thing that I do know about you, it's that you're a fast learner."
Janelle gulped and sniffled back tears. "Really?"
"Janelle, you're going to be an amazing mother," Olivia said with a smile. "We had a great mom, and you're so much like her."
"Our mom did a great job. At least, she did with me," Janelle said, and chuckled.
Olivia shook her head. "Okay, I see a little spark of the old Janelle in you. Why don't we pack these paint cans back up so you can return them and get your money back?” At least her sister had had the sense to buy the pre-made colors—returnable—instead of having the store mix custom colors. “Then we'll bake cookies."
"Okay, but I'm going to need some help getting up," Janelle grunted and held her hands out.
Jackie laughed. "All right. You get the Hindenburg back on her feet, and I'll preheat the oven." She disappeared from the room just as Janelle picked up a handy pillow and threw it at her.
"Easy." Pulling gently, Olivia got Janelle back on her feet. She was collecting their purses when Jackie's purse started to vibrate.
"Jackie, your phone is ringing," Olivia yelled down as she started to fish it out.
"Answer it for me!"
"I'm not your secretary!" The phone number wasn't one that Olivia recognized. "Hello?" she said as she answered it.
"You're going to pay for what you've done," a breathy voice whispered.
"Excuse me?" Olivia stiffened. "Who is this?"
The caller hung up, and Olivia immediately grabbed at her notebook. Scratching down the number, she called Nick.
"Sheriff Limperos here," he grunted. "How can I help you?"
"Nick, it's Olivia. Jackie told you that she was getting hang-up calls, right?"
"Yeah. We've been looking into it, but it hasn't gotten us anywhere. Why?"
Olivia shot Janelle a worried look. "They're not hanging up anymore. I just answered a call for Jackie. The person on the other end said that Jackie was going to pay for what she's done. That's a threat, Nick. A threat on her life. I've got the number. Maybe you can trace it before the person ditches the phone."
“Did you recognize the voice? Man or woman?”
“I don’t know—they were whispering.”
She heard Nick swear under his breath, then he said, “Go ahead. What was that number?”
She rattled off the number and gripped Janelle's hand. Jackie was calling to them, but Olivia ignored her. "Nick, is there anything about this case that you are keeping from me? Jackie is my best friend. If she's in danger, I want to know." Janelle shot her a look of alarm, and she shook her head and held her finger in the air. Wait.
"Olivia, I know I gave you some leeway to work on Madeline Stone's case, but the truth is, I want you to stay away from Jackie's case. It is precisely because you're her best friend. It could put you in danger, and you won't be able to look at the case the way you need to."
"And you can?" Olivia said, keeping her voice low. "C'mon, Nick. Weird things have been happening to Jackie for a while now, but it's escalating, and you still don't have any answers." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Janelle nod grimly. Janelle was firmly onboard now.
"I know that anyone who has it out for Jackie knows that you're an amateur sleuth. They'll be deliberately avoiding you, and your resources are li
mited. Let me do my job, and you do yours. Just let me know if anything else happens. I'll see what I can find out about this number."
He hung up before Olivia could protest, just as Jackie walked back in the room. "What's taking so long? Was that Brent?"
"No," Olivia said quietly. "I believe that was your stalker calling, and it wasn't just a hang-up."
Jackie paled. "What do you mean?"
"They said that you'd pay for what you've done. Jackie, are you sure that you haven't done anything to piss someone off? This sounds serious. I think even Nick might be freaking out." She felt Janelle stir uneasily beside her.
Olivia immediately regretting telling Jackie that. If nothing else, her friend looked even more scared.
"I don't know," Jackie said in a shaky voice. "I haven't done anything. Are you sure it's not just some kid playing a prank? Maybe they're just stepping it up a notch."
"Maybe. I'm sure Nick's going to get to the bottom of things." Olivia handed Jackie her purse. "Is the oven ready for cookies?"
"I'm not sure I can eat anything," Jackie murmured.
Janelle moved in and put her arms around Jackie. "Hey, don't worry. You're never alone anymore, remember? You have Brent. And you have us. We're not going to let anything happen to you."
"Exactly." Olivia nodded her head. "We've got this. I mean, Janelle's so big that it would take a linebacker to take her down, and I've been working out. Wrangling dogs builds up the muscles.” She began to tick her points off on her fingers. “Plus, Andrew has picked up investigating. And Brent loves you. And Patrick needs to release lots of frustrations from dealing with his wife.” Waving her fingers airily, she concluded, “We've totally got this covered."
Janelle stared at her. "You're a terrible sister."
"Maybe," Jackie said and laughed. "But she's a good friend. And I think I'm ready for cookies."
"Sounds good to me." Olivia tried to push away her fear as they walked down the steps and into the kitchen. It was clear to her now that proposing to Andrew was going to have to go onto the back burner. Her sister was falling apart. Her best friend was terrified. Her boyfriend was gung-ho about solving a crime.
Nothing was working out like she'd planned.
15
"Brady, no!" Olivia cried as she raced toward the little puppy. He'd torn open a squeaky toy and was happily pulling out the fluffy innards and dragging them across the floor. Afraid that he might swallow some, she scooped up the puppy, pried his mouth open, and hurriedly scraped the stuffing out of the pup's mouth.
As soon as she put him down again, he squeaked and rolled over on the floor with his tongue happily hanging out. "Who's a cute little guy?" she said in a baby voice while she scratched the conveniently offered belly with one hand and picked up stuffing off the floor with the other. "Who's a cute little guy?"
In the corner, Goodwin lifted his head and glared at her, grumbling. He was not a fan of the puppies.
"Oh, don't worry," Olivia crooned to her dog as she lifted the wriggling puppy again and walked over to him. "You're still my handsome man. Besides, his momma is picking him up, any minute."
That didn't seem to appease the sheepdog—he turned away and lay back down with a heavy sigh. "Drama queen," Olivia said, smiling fondly as she cradled the puppy in her lap and sat down at the computer. The pups in the other room were being quiet. Now that they'd had a good romp in the back yard, it sounded like everyone was enjoying a little naptime.
The phone rang, and Olivia smiled when she saw Andrew's office number on the caller ID. "Still a little hungover from boys' night?" she greeted when she answered. Andrew hadn’t been at the apartment when she’d gotten home last night, and he’d been gone before she got up that morning.
"We didn't drink anything," he chuckled. "Patrick was afraid that if he drank, Janelle would go into labor, and Brent was pissed that Jackie was still trying to hide things from him.” In her mind’s eye, she could see him shake his head. “It was a weird night."
"If it makes you feel any better, girls’ night wasn't all that fun, either. Janelle did lots of crying. Jackie got a horrible phone call. My car is currently loaded up with enough paint to cover a house. A large house. Want to paint anything in Showtime or Sundance yellow before I return it?" Brady yawned and curled up in a tighter ball in her lap, and she absently stroked his downy back.
"Yellow is not exactly my favorite color," he grunted. "I had a few minutes this morning to look up Sylvia. According to her bio on the website, she started out in Chicago. She worked her way up from reporter to assistant editor."
"Chicago? It's a pretty big jump from the Windy City to small-town America. What happened?"
The email notification on her computer sounded. "That's from me," Andrew said. "Take a look."
Opening up the email, Olivia found an article from three years earlier: a printed retraction and apology for a Dear Ruby article. Apparently, the column hadn't been written by Madeline, but by someone else, and an astute reader had caught the difference. "Sylvia pretended to be Dear Ruby while in Chicago?"
"I talked to someone from the Chicago newspaper. Apparently, Madeline Stone had quit six months prior to that and moved on. Sylvia never told anyone and kept the column running."
"And got caught," Olivia murmured. "So what? She just happened to end up in the same town as Madeline?"
"I doubt it's a coincidence. I just don't really know why."
There was a knock on the door, and Olivia looked up to see Sharon and her friend Joyce walk in. They stopped to pet Goodwin, and he immediately rolled over to offer his belly, rumbling in pleasure as Sharon obliged with a vigorous rub.
Olivia held up her finger. "I don't know, but we'll find out. I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Andrew said goodbye, and Olivia hung up and gently lifted Brady from her lap. "He's pretty out of it," she said with a quiet laugh. "He murdered quite a few dog toys."
Joyce cooed as she took the puppy and cuddled him. Sharon scratched him gently on the head and took out her wallet. "I tried to pull up the paperwork for a contract with you, but then I realized that I didn't have access to a printer. Can I pay for today and then take the paperwork home to fill it out?"
"Sure, that's not a problem at all. Do you want me to look at the rest of this week's schedule while you're here?" Opening a drawer, Olivia pulled out a packet of paperwork and set it on the desk.
Sharon nodded eagerly. "I think this will be great for him. He's going to interact with the other dogs and learn to play and blow off some steam."
"That's the idea," Olivia laughed as she opened the folder. "So, here you'll find our package prices, depending on what you need. For puppies, we can't exactly walk them until they're leash-trained and a little older, but on the days that he doesn't do doggie daycare, we can still stop by your house and let him out to do his business, and then put him safely back in the house and check his food and water and give him a little love before leaving him again. The contract is in here, as well, and I've also included some coupons and information about puppy starter kits for shops around town."
"Yes. That is fabulous!"
Pulling up the schedule, Olivia mulled over the available slots. "It looks like the only day that I have available is Friday. I have more openings next week, and then we can figure out a more permanent schedule."
Sharon frowned. "I'm actually heading out of town that morning. Joyce is dog sitting for me a couple of days."
"Oh, I could totally drop him off," Joyce spoke up. "Maybe during my lunch break—and then pick him up after work?"
"That works." Olivia added Brady to the schedule. "All right, you're all set. Sharon, you can stop by with the contract when you get back, if you want."
Standing, Sharon shook Olivia’s hand and grinned. "I'm so excited, Olivia. Thank you so much."
As soon as the two women and the puppy were gone, Goodwin hopped up and walked over to Olivia with his tail wagging. He sniffed at her lap and grumbled, but even
tually, he laid his head down and gave her that heart-melting look.
"It's okay, buddy,” Olivia reassured him, rubbing his ear. “We're not taking any of the puppies home. You and Fender are still my two main squeezes."
That seemed to mollify him, and he turned his attention to the torn-up toys.
The other dog owners trickled in one at a time, returning to pick up their pups, and when the last one had left, Olivia had a few hours before she had to do her final walk of the day.
She decided to pay Sylvia a visit.
Leashing up Goodwin and Fender, she walked them down the street to the small newspaper office. It was strange to think that Sylvia had once been an assistant editor at a large city paper, and now she was printing stories about dog kidnappers, along with highlights from the county fair.
Opening the door with a jingle of the bell at the top, she walked the two dogs in, nodded pleasantly at the receptionist as if she had an appointment, and headed toward Sylvia's office. The editor was staring intently at the computer and didn't see her come in, so Olivia knocked lightly at the doorframe. "Got a minute?"
Sylvia jumped. "Oh, Olivia! I didn't even hear the bell over the door. Actually, I'm glad you stopped by. I've been wrestling with how to close the dognapping story. It's difficult to admit that one of our own did it, but at the same time, I have a duty to the readers. I figured that since I already published the celebration edition of Madeline's life, I might as well reveal her darker side.” She sounded so businesslike and detached, Olivia thought, somehow surprised. “I could use a couple of quotes from you."
"I can't really make any official comments since Madeline's murder is an ongoing investigation." Olivia tried to look apologetic as she sat down.
"Sheriff Limperos runs a tight ship," the editor said with a laugh. "All right. Well, I suppose you're here for another reason?"
"I wanted to thank you for running the article. It was a huge help."
"No problem.” Sylvia smiled warmly. “I'm here to help."
She looked at Olivia expectedly, and Olivia shifted back and forth in her chair. She wanted to ease into her questions about Madeline, but Sylvia hadn't exactly opened the conversation up for queries. "It must not be very exciting to run this newspaper."
Without Missing a Bark Page 10