“I’m supposed to let nature take its course.” She could see Shasta straining, so she knew delivery of the first pup was imminent, probably within fifteen minutes or so.
“So you do know what to do?” Grant asked, glancing around at the setup, including supplies Caprice had lined up on one of the shelving units against the wall.
“Can you boil water for me so I can sterilize the scissors? I think I have everything ready. The puppy will be in a water bag. Shasta will probably chew the membrane from her, free the pup, and lick her dry to stimulate her to breathe and cry. But if she doesn’t, I have to be ready with a towel to rub the puppy until she does breathe and cry.”
“You’re presuming the first pup will be a she?”
Caprice threw her hands up, frustrated with him picking her words apart. “I don’t know. He or she. Can you toss me the box of latex gloves?”
Instead of tossing them, he handed them to her. She slipped her phone from her pocket.
“I’m going to call my vet and see if he’s available if I need him.”
“This late?”
“Marcus and I are friends. He won’t mind.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll go boil that water.”
Caprice knew this could be a long night, and she didn’t expect Grant to stay. After the first pup, it could be another hour or two until the second. Marcus had showed her an online video that explained how to cut the umbilical cord and tie it off. It was simple, he’d assured her. She told herself the same thing now as she dialed his number. She got his voice mail and told him what was happening, assuring him she’d call him after the pups were born.
She knew some dogs didn’t want anyone around when they delivered their pups, but Shasta kept looking up at her as if she didn’t understand what was happening.
Caprice stroked her head. “I know this is scary. But everything will be all right.”
Caprice suddenly remembered she needed to fill the hot water bottle. As warm as the outside temperature was, the newborns might be okay without the heat lamp. But she had that ready too, in case she needed it. Marcus had told her that the first eighteen hours after the birth were the most critical. On his advice, she had a scale ready to weigh the pups. She knew she had to do that often, as well as taking their temperature the first few days. She’d bought a puppy supplement and bottles just in case Shasta couldn’t feed her babies enough. But Caprice also knew she had to leave Shasta alone to take care of her brood. Marcus had explained more than once that the less she interfered, the better.
Not interfere. Right.
When Grant returned to the garage with a pan of boiling water, he dropped the scissors into it. “I washed up so I can help if you need it.”
“You don’t mind staying?”
“It’s not every day I can see pups born.”
“There are five. Delivery can take an hour or two between each one.”
Grant crouched down beside her, his elbow brushing hers. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you’d rather call someone else . . .”
Did he mean Seth? She couldn’t call Seth for a lot of reasons. He was a doctor who needed his sleep. He was a doctor who was dedicated. He was a doctor who would be leaving.
She didn’t answer Grant directly but rather said, “I can use the moral support.”
She thought he looked glad that she wanted him to stay, but it was so hard to tell with Grant. She couldn’t look deeper because Shasta whimpered and strained again.
“Can you fill the hot water bottle?” She pointed to it. “I’ll wrap it in a towel. It won’t be long now.”
And it wasn’t. Grant had no sooner returned with the hot water bottle and wrapped it in a towel than Caprice said, “The first baby’s coming!”
Her heart in her throat as she knelt beside Grant, Caprice watched the miracle as the sac appeared and the first pup was born.
Shasta licked her baby into life.
Tears gathered in Caprice’s eyes as she tucked in the hot water bottle. She felt all choked up, and she ducked her head so Grant wouldn’t see.
But when he capped her shoulder with his large hand, she raised her gaze to his.
The silent communication that passed between them shook her a little. However, she didn’t have time to think about it because Shasta and the pup needed her . . . and because at that moment Grant’s cell phone buzzed.
He plucked it from his belt. His face went passive as he answered the call. “Hi, Jason. What’s up?”
Caprice watched Shasta mother her pup as Grant asked tersely, “When?” He followed it with, “I’ll bring him in myself at nine a.m.”
A chill ran down Caprice’s spine. When Grant ended the call, she asked, “What’s happening?”
He looked as if he didn’t want to tell her, but then he finally did. “Jones wants to bring Joe in again for questioning. But this time . . . I think he could charge him with Preston’s murder.”
Chapter Eighteen
Grant was blunt with Joe when he called him a few minutes later. “Prepare yourself to be charged. Do whatever you need to with Bella in case you don’t come home again . . . right away.”
After the phone call, Grant looked down at Shasta and her first baby.
Caprice couldn’t leave Shasta and her pups, although she desperately wanted to go to Bella.
“I can’t believe they have enough to charge him,” Caprice complained.
“It’s got to be circumstantial at this point, but my guess is the mayor’s pushing the police department to do something, and Joe’s their best suspect.”
“Do they even know about the others?”
“They will when I take him in. Jones and I are going to have a little chat.”
“As if that will do any good,” Caprice muttered, watching Shasta, seeing she was about to deliver another puppy.
After studying her for a moment, Grant perceptively said, “I know you want to go to Bella, but she and Joe need tonight together. You’ll have time to talk to her after I take him in tomorrow.”
“I need to do more than talk to her. I need to figure out who did this.”
“Another pup’s coming!” Grant replaced his phone on his belt and appeared ready to do whatever he had to.
His hands were large and capable as he picked up a towel. It was easy to see he cared about Shasta and her pups . . . bringing her babies into the world . . . giving them a good chance at life.
The rest of the night was a mixture of excitement and worry. By the time the sun came up, Shasta’s five pups were greedily nursing . . . and Grant had to leave.
He took a last look at Caprice and the pups and asked, “Are you going to be all right here with them?”
“Of course, I am. I’m going to document their weights, keep an eye on their temperature, and then give Marcus a call.”
Caprice’s cell phone rang. She checked the screen and said, “It’s Bella.”
Before she could even say “hello,” Bella started. “I want to go to the police station with Joe, but he won’t let me.”
“Bee, it’s probably better if you don’t. It’s better if you try to keep Megan and Timmy calm.”
“They’re going to want to know where he is. What am I going to tell them?”
Grant waved toward the door and murmured, “I have to get going. Tell Bella I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Caprice nodded and watched him leave the garage. They’d shared some special moments last night. What had he thought about that?
She’d never know because Grant didn’t tell her what he was thinking, not about anything but the case anyway.
She returned her attention to her sister, intending to give her every reassurance she could think of.
She’d just ended her call with Bella when her phone played its Beatles’ tune. It was Marcus.
“How’s it going?”
She told him about the five pups, how they looked, how they were nursing. Her veterinarian suggested, “Why don’t I stop by on
my way to the clinic? Shasta should have a posterior pituitary extract injection, and I can check out the pups.”
“Are you sure you have time?”
“For you, I do. I know I can call you when I get a stray who needs a home. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
And he was. Marcus was big and burly but one of the gentlest men she knew. He examined Shasta and each of her pups, closely looking at how Caprice had tied off the umbilical cords.
“For your first time, you did a great job.”
“I can thank instructions on the Internet for that.”
He laughed. “That’s where everyone goes for human and pet diagnoses. Sometimes it’s an advantage and sometimes it’s not.”
“The Internet can’t replace you.”
He gave her a cautious look. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Will it?” She assessed him carefully. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“What will I be doing with those few minutes?”
“I’m trying to figure out who killed Bob Preston. I have all my notes on my tablet. I need to go over them with someone who has an analytical mind but isn’t involved in the case.”
His bushy brows arched. “Do you plan to set a trend solving murders?”
“Not intentionally. But my brother-in-law is being grilled as we speak, and I have to figure this out.”
“I’ll watch the pups. Why don’t you make some coffee and get your tablet. We’ll see what we can come up with.”
“I just need a lead.”
“We’ll find you one,” he said with assurance.
Twenty minutes later, sipping raspberry-chocolate-flavored coffee and with her tablet in her lap on the garage floor, she consulted with Marcus, who was seated in a lawn chair.
“So those are the suspects so far—Kent Osgood, Jeff Garza, Jackie Fitz, and Danny Flannery. But I’ve practically eliminated him. And, of course, Joe. I’ve eliminated him too.”
“You’ve given me each one’s motivation. That’s fine. But maybe instead of looking into the suspects, you have to look into Bob’s last days a little more. Do you have a timeline for the last ten days of his life?”
“That’s a good idea.”
“I sometimes have them,” Marcus joked. “Tell me what you know.”
She began tapping on her tablet. “Bob was working a job for me at Eliza Cornwall’s, doing painting for staging.”
“Did you notice anything unusual about his behavior?” Marcus asked.
She thought about it. “He asked my sister to go for coffee. That was a little strange, considering they had dated years ago and she’s married.”
“Nothing strange in that if he really just wanted to catch up. Maybe he had some regrets about how they split.”
“I suppose that’s possible. Jeff Garza told us that Bob had gotten a new outlook on life, probably because he’d found out he had family—a half brother. Do you think he was looking back at his past because of that?”
“Could be.”
“Changing his will would have been major.”
“Let’s get back to that timeline,” Marcus said. “Bob had coffee with Bella, then . . .”
“Then . . . he went out of town without telling anybody. At least I don’t think he told anybody. And he didn’t finish the job at Eliza’s. Bob was a charmer and devil-may-care, but he was always responsible. He never left a job unfinished and he left that one unfinished. I had to call in someone I’d been using temporarily. In fact, Bob even left his tarps and everything. Monty said he moved all that stuff to his garage.” She abruptly stopped and suddenly snapped her fingers. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“My next lead. Monty said there was a backpack there too.”
“Is he sure it was Bob’s?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. It’s all still in Monty’s garage. I’d forgotten about it. Actually, I didn’t even know about the backpack until Monty told me at the awards dinner.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry you didn’t get the award.”
“It really doesn’t matter. I don’t live my life to earn an award. You know that.”
“Yeah, I do. Working hard and taking in strays is just part of your life.” He glanced over at the pups. “Have you found homes for these yet?”
“No, but I’m working on it.” She paused, then asked, “Do you think the pups will be okay for an hour or so if Nikki comes over to pup-sit? I have to check out the stuff in Monty’s garage.”
“Nikki’s reliable and an animal lover. She’s been around your strays often enough. I think they’ll be fine with her. Show her how to take their temperature and stimulate them if Shasta doesn’t. She keeps licking them and nosing them, so I think they’ll be fine. But alert Nikki to all of it.”
“I’ll give her a checklist,” Caprice assured him.”
“You did a good job last night, Caprice. Not just anybody can deliver a litter of pups.”
“I had help.” She thought about Grant, and how he’d just stepped in . . . how he’d worried about the scrapes on her back . . . how he’d looked at her when the pups were born.
But she couldn’t think about that now. She was still hurting over Seth’s leaving, and a little confused about her feelings concerning both men. What was foremost on her mind was proving Joe didn’t kill Bob. She was going to do that sooner, rather than later.
After Nikki had arrived and understood exactly what taking care of newborn pups was all about, and after a phone call to Monty, who told Caprice he’d leave the side door to his garage open because he had a job to work on this morning, Caprice drove toward the community center with Monty’s address in her head. She hadn’t realized he lived near there. In fact, he lived a street over from the renovation project where Roz’s store was located. Even though Monty had been Roz’s gardener and worked for Caprice now and then, she didn’t know him very well. He was single and ran his own small business, tending to yards around Kismet. But that was about all she knew.
This morning, however, she’d learned more. Monty rented the downstairs apartment in a row house, and a detached garage in the back was his to use. He didn’t park in it because he kept his equipment in it. However, there was a gravel lot next to the garage where she could park while she was searching through Bob’s stuff.
After she found the address, she drove to the alley that wound behind the backyards. Monty had mentioned the clapboard garage had been painted yellow, so she easily found it. It was the old-fashioned kind with wooden doors that slid from one side to the other. She parked, glanced around a bit, then went to the side door. Since she’d promised everyone she’d stay safe, she patted the pepper-spray gun in her pocket and went inside, leaving the door ajar. After she switched on the overhead bulb, she looked around. There was one small window that was raised, so the garage wasn’t stifling.
Monty had told her all of Bob’s things had been dumped on the left side. She spotted the tarps right away as well as the two painter’s trays and an assortment of brushes stuffed in a bucket. There was also the long-handled contraption for a ceiling roller, which reminded her of the pool skimmer.
She shivered. She couldn’t let the creepies get hold of her now.
She thought she heard the hum of a car engine nearby. Was it coming down the alley?
It was. However, it didn’t pause but zoomed right by the garage doors. She was letting her imagination run overtime.
She thought she spied blue nylon peeking out from under the tarp. Crossing to it, she pushed the tarp aside to reveal a backpack. It was worn and utilitarian. She picked it up, feeling strange as she handled something Bob had owned and used not long before he died.
Something in the backpack rolled to one side. A gun?
No, Bob wouldn’t carry a gun.
She unbuckled the flap and lifted it, peeking inside. The rolling object was a bottle of water. That made sense. She pulled it out. It was still half full. In the bottom of the backpack she found two
granola bars, a bag of barbecue chips, and another of pretzels. For snack attacks. This must have been Bob’s food stash for when he was working. She dug deeper into the bag and found two pens, a pencil, and a ruler.
She’d explored the largest compartment first. Now she undid the Velcro flap on a smaller compartment, really not expecting to find anything. Bob wouldn’t have left the backpack if there had been something valuable in it, would he?
A large yellow piece of paper, about eight-and-a-half by eleven, was folded over. She pulled it out and realized there were other papers inside it. Unfolding the larger sheet, she found a work order of some sort. It was for the rooms in Eliza’s house. Bob had checked off those he’d finished. But inside that . . .
There was an old newspaper clipping. It too was folded in half, and now she opened it, smoothing it out. FIRE IN TROPICAL TAN, MEDIA PA. Media was a suburb of Philadelphia. Why was Bob carrying this around?
Caprice began reading the article carefully. Fire had broken out at Tropical Tan, a tanning salon located in a strip mall. The businesses on either side of it were spared. The owner, Elizabeth Crandall, was quoted as saying she was so grateful for that.
The name niggled in Caprice’s brain. Elizabeth Crandall. Maybe it was because she was also holding the work order, but Eliza’s name came to mind. Eliza Cornwall. Eliza Cornwall. Elizabeth Crandall. Awfully similar. Was that just a coincidence? Or wasn’t it?
Why was Bob carrying this around, and why was it here in his backpack?
While Caprice thought about it, she made sure there wasn’t anything else in the backpack. After that, she pawed through the tarps. Nothing else there, either. How could she find out more about this fire?
In her business, just as in any other, contacts were essential. She did have a contact at the newspaper, Marianne Brisbane. Marianne had interviewed her twice. Caprice and Roz had also done a favor for the reporter. Maybe Marianne would be willing to return that favor.
Deadly Décor (A Caprice De Luca Mystery) Page 24