by Annie Knox
“And what can we do to get you out of it?” Aunt Dolly asked.
I filled them in on my discussion with Phillip and talked them through how it alibied Pris but left me in the lurch.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about Phillip’s threat right away,” I said to Rena.
“No, it’s for the best that you kept quiet. If you’d told me, I really would have killed him. And then where would we be?”
“Trying to figure out how to get you off the hook instead of me.”
“There’s no trying about it,” Rena said with a decisive swish of her hand. “I was here with you when Phillip came to call. And I stayed with you until we left for the cat show. Tell them that.”
I grabbed my friend and gave her a big hug. “Thanks for that. But I already talked to the police and didn’t mention being with anyone that morning. If I suddenly say, ‘Gee, I forgot to tell you that my best friend was with me all morning and can corroborate my story,’ it’s going to look pretty hinky. Besides, if people at the cat show noticed I was late, I’d lay good money they noticed you were on time.”
“Besides,” Sean said. “I’m standing right here. As an officer of the court, I can’t allow you guys to perjure yourselves. I appreciate the sentiment, but truth and a healthy dose of silence are Izzy’s best allies here.”
“Actually,” Dolly piped up, “I really can give you that alibi.”
“Dolly, you weren’t here,” I said with a sigh.
“Not here, here. But I, uh, might have been next door.”
“Dorothy!” my mother gasped.
“Don’t judge me, Edie. I’ve been a widow for a very long time.”
It seemed to take a moment for the penny to drop for the rest of us. Dru blushed crimson, Rena and Lucy busted out laughing and high-fived each other, and Sean and I just stared in wonder.
“You spent the night with Richard Greene?” I finally asked.
“Young lady, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. You’re lucky I was there.”
“What exactly did you see?” Sean asked.
“Oh God, no,” Lucy moaned. “Don’t describe it.” Lucy had always been the sister with the naughty streak, the one who sneaked out of the house in the middle of the night and hung out with boys who were too old for her. Normally, I found her irreverence amusing, but at that moment I wanted to clap my hand over her mouth.
“Lucy, that’s entirely inappropriate, especially in mixed company.” My sister Dru could be a stick-in-the-mud on occasion, but she was saying what everyone in the room was thinking.
“Seriously, Dolly. What did you see that morning?” Sean asked again.
“Richard was in the kitchen making coffee when I heard a car pull up outside. A man got out. It must have been Phillip Denford, but I didn’t have my eyes in yet.” My aunt had worn contacts for decades. “The car pulled away and then, maybe ten minutes later, I heard a honk outside and I looked out to see the man getting back in the car.”
Sean’s eyes bored into my poor aunt. His interrogation was tougher than anything Gil Dixon had handed me. “What else? Did you see anything else?”
“Not until a little after nine, when I heard Wanda’s old rust bucket pull up. That car grinds and rattles more than my left hip. I looked outside again and saw Izzy dashing to her own car with Jinx’s cage in one hand and a stack of critter clothes in the other.”
Dru sighed. “That doesn’t help at all. Unless you were staring out the window the whole time, Izzy could have left and come back with you being none the wiser.”
“I don’t suppose you were just standing there watching the street—were you, Aunt Dolly?” Lucy asked with a sly smile.
For the first time in my life, I watched my aunt Dolly blush. “No. I wasn’t just standing there. I might have been a little preoccupied. You’re right. I guess as alibis go, the one I’m offering is pretty weak.”
“But this is a great help,” Sean said. “Are you sure the car left after Phillip got out?”
I saw where he was going. I slapped my own forehead. “I totally forgot about hearing the car honk right before Phillip left.”
“I’m sure of what I saw. And what I heard,” Dolly said adamantly.
“This is huge,” Sean said.
He was right. I didn’t have an alibi, but Dolly’s story made one thing abundantly clear. The morning that Phillip Denford had visited Trendy Tails, the morning he was murdered, he was not alone.
* * *
Eventually my mother called a halt to the evening. It was late, and I’d had a hard day, she said. I needed to sleep.
She was absolutely correct, but I still asked Rena to hang back. I finally had to tell her all about Phillip’s threat to ruin our business. While she’d picked up bits and pieces from our conversation about my brush with the police, she needed to know every detail.
When I finished recounting our desperate plight, Rena threw her arms around me and gave me a huge hug. For someone her size, Rena was surprisingly strong, and her most heartfelt hugs could be painful. This one hurt.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“You have no reason to be sorry. If either of us should be apologizing, it should be me. I dragged you into this business in the first place.”
“You didn’t exactly twist my arm. Besides, I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan to back down yet. No sense closing up shop because we may have a little competition.”
We sat across from each other at the red table, each lost in thought.
“I’ve been in a few fights in my day,” Rena said, “and I’m always hopelessly outmatched. I mean, most sixth graders outweigh me. But I use what should be a disadvantage to help me conquer my foe. I’m light, so I’m fast. I’m short, so it’s easier for me to duck from blows. . . . My body just isn’t at the height most people naturally hit at. I use what I have. And I’m not saying I’ve never taken a beating, but I do pretty well.”
I smiled. “And this relates to our situation how?”
“We have to play to our strengths. Phillip said we wouldn’t be able to compete because you make so much of our product by hand. So we turn that into a selling point. Our stuff is handmade, not made in a factory. There are lots of people who will pay extra money to have something sewn or crocheted or knitted by hand.”
I nodded. “I like that. Using our apparent weakness as a marketing tool. We can also play up the fact that we can hand-tailor our garments. Phillip’s mass manufacturing works only if they make tons of outfits in a few uniform sizes. We can take measurements of actual pets, assuring a better fit.”
“And we can customize goods easily, by adding embroidered names or using specific colors and fabrics.”
Rena leaned across the table to high-five me. “His company can do more, but we can do better . . . no matter how good the quality of his knockoffs.”
I leaned back in my chair, thinking about our plan to distinguish ourselves as the source for custom canine and kitty clothes. I liked it. We were going couture.
“You know,” Rena said hesitantly, “another way we could separate ourselves from Phillip’s market would be to provide pets and their humans with matching clothes.”
Her suggestion knocked the breath out of me. When Casey and I had moved to Madison to attend college, I’d studied fashion design. When he was done with his residency in Merryville, we were supposed to move to the Big Apple together so I could pursue a career as a women’s-wear designer. When I got left behind in Merryville, I started selling pet clothes because I’d had some luck selling them in Ingrid’s Gift Haus and because Merryville didn’t seem like a place people would trust for handmade dresses. But in some little corner of my heart, that dream had lived on.
I don’t know why I never thought of combining the two pursuits into a single business, but it seemed like pure genius.
“Do you th
ink we could do it? Do you think people would buy?”
Rena grinned. “Are you kidding? Some people might stick to clothing for their pets, but if you dress your pets regularly, there has to be some occasion on which you’d want to coordinate, right? Little mini bridesmaid dresses, for example. Or clothes for some pet-related event, like a cat show or a local festival.” Rena shrugged. “It might end up being a fairly small part of the business, but it would definitely catch people’s attention.”
I laughed out loud. It felt like a giant weight had been lifted. The suggested changes might not save us, but they gave me hope. And at that minute, hope seemed like a valuable commodity.
Rena rested her arms on the table and looked serious. “Biggest obstacle I see is the name of the store.”
“What’s wrong with Trendy Tails? It’s been working for us all this time.”
“Right. For selling pet clothes. But if we add human clothes to the mix . . . What fashionable woman is going to want to wear a ‘Trendy Tails Original’? It’s just too petlike.”
“Can we afford to change the brand so late in the game? I don’t want us to lose our existing customers.”
“No. It’s easy. We have addresses for just about every customer we’ve had in here. At least an e-mail address. So we send out a postcard and e-mail blast to let them know about the change. Then you keep the Trendy Tails Web domain name and have it automatically redirect to the site for the new store.”
“I understood about half of that, but it all sounds good. So what can we name the store that encompasses humans and pets?”
Rena closed one eye and leaned back, as though she were preparing to ward off a blow. “I was thinking maybe ‘Swag and Wags’?”
“I love it. And I love you for sticking beside me through all this.”
Rena smiled. “Where else would I be?”
CHAPTER
Ten
I was awakened the following morning by someone pounding on the front door of Trendy Tails loud enough to rouse me from my hibernation on the third floor.
I yanked on my robe and scampered down the stairs as fast as my half-asleep brain could propel me. If the knocking was loud enough to wake me, it was loud enough to wake Ingrid and Harvey, and it was certainly loud enough to wake my neighbor Richard. Even though we’d reached a state of détente, thanks to his relationship with my aunt Dolly, I didn’t want to poke the bear.
Indeed, when I hit the second landing, Ingrid stuck her head out of her door. “Is someone dead?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Well, that’s a righteous commotion someone’s making. Someone had better be dead.”
The banging began again in earnest. “I’ll let you know what’s up,” I promised Ingrid before starting down the stairs again.
“Coming, coming, coming,” I muttered as I flew down the last flight.
I was surprised to see Marigold Aames at my front door.
Knowing she’d dated Jack in the past, I was particularly self-conscious of my bedhead and robe.
“Good morning, Mari,” I said as I ushered her inside. In deference to the hot August day, she was wearing a cute green sundress, and she gave her arms a vigorous rub as she walked into the air-conditioned coolness of Trendy Tails. “What’s going on?” I asked.
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized they weren’t entirely polite. But then I decided that I didn’t entirely care.
“I’m actually looking for Jack.”
I tried to scoop my jaw off the floor and reaffix it to my face. “Jack? Seriously? You came here to find Jack?”
“Well, yeah.”
“He’s not here.”
“Oh. Okay. I thought you two . . .” She was playing with her necklace, and she looked about ready to jump out of her skin.
“We are. But he’s not here. And even if he were, it would be a little weird for you to come looking for him here.”
She squinted and shook her head, like I was talking gibberish.
“I didn’t mean any offense. I just really need to find Jack, and I don’t know where he lives. I don’t even have his cell number. But I knew where to find you.”
“If you wait down here, I’ll run upstairs and give him a call.”
“Or you could just give me his number. I don’t want to take up more of your time.”
I paused. Part of me thought, Heck, this was none of my business. Give her the number and let her and Jack do whatever they wanted together. The other part of me, the part that sounded like Rena and my sister Lucy, said no way. Whatever this woman was up to with Jack, she’d have to go through me to get it done.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
I dashed up the stairs to call Jack and then threw on some clothes. I thought about the girlie dress Mari was wearing and took a few extra minutes to put up my hair and swipe some gloss across my lips.
I managed to make it back downstairs and start a pot of coffee before Jack arrived.
“Cream? Sugar?” I offered her.
“No, thanks. Peter, Phillip, and I all take our coffee black. The only one who likes the fancy drinks is Marsha.”
That seemed like very detailed information for an assistant to know, not just about her boss but about his family.
“You four travel together a lot.”
Mari waved her hand. “We did. All the time. Phillip always had some sort of business engagement, and he traveled throughout the Midwest.”
“But why would Marsha come with him?”
“Nothing better to do, she said. May as well see some of America rather than rattle around in their massive house all alone.”
“But what about Peter? As an artist, he surely had reason to stay at home in . . .”
“Duluth,” Mari supplied. “Peter’s a mess,” she volunteered. “He’d be an artist if he had access to raw materials, but he needs heavy equipment and expensive metal to do his art, so he just doesn’t do it.”
“Still, why follow his dad around?”
Mari shrugged. “I think he does it more for Marsha’s company than Phillip’s. Sure, he’s always trying to get his dad to foot the bill for something, but Phillip almost always says no.”
“But Marsha and Peter are close?”
“Oh yes. When Peter’s mother died, his father sent him off to boarding school. When he arrived home after graduation, he was at loose ends. Phillip would only pay for college if Peter agreed to major in business or economics, so Peter just stayed home. By that point, Phillip had married Marsha, and she was less than a decade older than Peter. I guess they bonded over Phillip’s neglect. As near as I can tell, they’re each the best friend the other has.”
What a sad, strange family, I thought. I was going to press Mari for more of the skinny on the Denfords, but Jack was bounding up my porch stairs.
When he walked in the door, Mari flew into his arms. “Oh, Jack. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Jack met my gaze over Mari’s head. He raised his eyebrows in question and I shrugged an answer.
“What do you need?” Jack started to pull away from Marigold’s embrace, but she clung to him like a limpet.
“I’ve just been beside myself since Phillip died,” she said. “He was such a good mentor for me. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.” Her voice was rising into near hysterics.
“Hush, now, Goldilocks. It’s going to be okay. What did you need to tell me?”
Jack firmly pushed Mari away from him, and she raised her hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She’d left mascara smudges on his clean white T-shirt. I felt a flare of jealousy, like she’d marked my property.
“I’m sorry. This has just been such an emotional whirlwind, trying to keep the show on track as I know Phillip would have wanted, when all I want to do is grieve.” She shook herself a
nd scrubbed at her face.
“I know this must be hard for you,” Jack said. “You worked closely with Phillip, and death is always difficult.”
“But I needed to tell you something,” Mari said. “I feel so guilty about not mentioning it to the officer who took my statement. I mean, what if I’m helping someone get away with murder? Last night I barely slept, so I had to tell you this morning first thing.”
“Tell me what?” Jack sounded like he was losing patience.
“It’s about Phillip. He and Marsha were having problems.”
“How do you know that?” Jack asked.
“Peter told me. He said he’d taken his dad to see a divorce lawyer.”
“I’ll have to ask Peter about that.”
“Of course,” she snuffled. “But there’s more. Phillip and Marsha had a prenup. If they got a divorce, Marsha would have been penniless.”
“Did Peter tell you about that, too?” I asked.
Mari tilted her head to look at me, as though she’d forgotten I was even in the room. “No. Phillip told me about the prenup one evening when we were, you know, having a few drinks after a long day. He got a little tipsy, and he just blurted it out. He was very clear, though, that she would get nothing.”
Mari paused for dramatic effect. “I think Marsha may have killed Phillip,” she said in a stage whisper.
“It sounds like she might have had motive, but we’re going to need more to go on than that,” Jack said.
She batted him playfully on the arm. “I know that. That’s why you’re the police and I’m not. I just thought you should have full information. It’s not like Marsha’s going to offer up her motive when you talk to her.”
“Well, I appreciate the help.”
“Yes. Well. I guess I should get going.”
“I do need to get cleaned up for work,” Jack said. “I was so worried when Izzy called that I rushed out without a proper shirt and tie.”
“This look always suited you. We still on for coffee tomorrow?”
Jack looked at me, then down at tiny little Mari. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll pick you up at ten.”