by Leona Fox
“I think what you do is wonderful. It must be hard to be surrounded by so much crime all the time. Do you ever find yourself losing sight of the good in the world?” Andy puffed out his cheeks.
“I suppose I do sometimes, but then I come here and I have you to brighten up my day.”
He smiled at her and looked directly into her eyes. She blushed a little, and turned her eyes away shyly. The moment lingered between them, and she almost felt bad for enjoying the romantic moment given that someone had just died that morning. However, she had learned long ago it was important to enjoy the moments that life offered, because they were often all too fleeting.
At that point, there was a scratching on the door. Ellen and Andy both turned to find Scampy at the entrance, looking mournfully at them.
“Guess I should let the poor guy in,” Ellen said as she opened the door.
Scampy bounded in and leaped around Ellen's feet. When she took her seat he jumped on her lap. Ellen tentatively stroked his head and scratched him behind one ear.
“I really don't know why this is happening. Usually animals don't like me. I've been bitten by them more times than I can count,” she said, still making sure to keep her fingers away from Scampy's mouth, even though he seemed placid and quite content.
“Maybe this one just has better judgment than the others. It's a shame though, he's going to have to find a new home soon.”
“Yes...I suppose he will,” Ellen said, looking down at the dog with sad eyes.
“Do you think animals get sad? He must have loved his master so much, they spent so much time together.”
“Hmmm, yes,” Andy said, and Ellen recognized the expression on his face as one of thoughtfulness. His mind was whirring.
“Penny for them?”
“Just thinking about the case. A few things make me wonder...I have to give this much consideration. The more I think about it the more I'm convinced something is not right here,” he said, as Scampy barked.
“I think he agrees with you,” she said, and they both laughed.
There was a pause, and Andy looked as though he was about to say something important, when the door burst open and Kelly burst into the cafe. She spoke quickly and hurried across the floor to pour herself a drink.
“My, my, what a morning it's been. I've been needing this for hours. Oh Ellen, you've got a little companion! Where did he come from? He's got the most beautiful eyes. My mother once had a dog like that, terrible thing though, it never left my poor dad alone,” she said, continuing to talk excitedly.
Ellen cocked an eyebrow at Andy and shrugged helplessly. Kelly had a way of commanding the attention of the room, and Andy knew he wasn't going to be able to finish his question, so he made a graceful exit.
“I'll be in touch. Keep the dog safe, and I know word travels fast around here but try not to let too much information slip,” he said with a knowing wink, glancing in Kelly's direction. Both of them knew Kelly was a terrible gossip. Ellen assured him she wouldn't, and as he walked out of the cafe she looked at him with longing.
Chapter 3
It was evening and Ellen was at Kelly's house. Kelly offered her coffee but Ellen rarely drank coffee in the evening because it affected her sleep. She was a creature of habit and liked to keep to a schedule that kept her well-rested. In contrast, coffee was the only thing that seemed to calm Kelly down. Already that day had been a whirlwind. Even though Andy had been worried about Kelly spreading gossip, it hadn't been until much later in the day that Ellen even had been able to tell Kelly about what happened with George. She had been going on about something else she heard, and then she talked about some new paintings she was working on. With Kelly you never knew what she was going to talk about next. She had this unnerving ability to change subjects within the space of a sentence, so one always had to concentrate when she was talking just to keep up with her.
Many people found this exhausting, but Ellen was one of the few who was able to put up with it and actually enjoyed it. During the afternoon the cafe had been busy, and the place was alive with chatter about George. Everyone seemed to have a theory about what happened, or who could have done it, and many were outlandish. Ellen remained quiet, and tended to Scampy, who didn't seem to want to leave the confines of the cafe. However, when Ellen left she told him, in no uncertain terms, he couldn't go back home with her. Scampy merely had stared with his big dark eyes, and Ellen almost gave in...almost. Instead, she asked the Hamiltons to take him in for a few days because they used to have a number of dogs, and they were all too happy to oblige.
“It's sad about the dog, isn't it? I guess nobody really thinks about the pets when someone dies. What do you do with them? You always hear those stories about those dogs sitting by the graves of their old masters. I wonder if Scampy will do the same? At least it's the right season for it, the nights will be warm at least,” Kelly said.
They were sitting in her lounge, which was also a makeshift studio. Years ago Kelly had won the lottery (and kept it a secret) and, since she didn't have to work any longer, she decided to pursue her passion of painting. She produced a number of works that had found their way into different collections. Despite her erratic nature, her paintings often were focused and displayed a raw intensity that was completely at odds with Kelly's often flaky persona. She wore her hair in a short bob cut and was slightly shorter than Ellen. Her nails always were painted in colorful patterns, and ever since spring had broken out she had used flowers, but these would change soon enough, Ellen was sure.
The lounge had a couple of chairs, but whenever Ellen came around the two women relaxed in bean bag chairs. The strong smell of incense filled the room, and orange and purple sheets were draped from the ceiling, giving the place an exotic feel, although for newcomers the arrangement of the sheets seemed like a labyrinth. Kelly always said it helped her creativity, and allowed her to leave the confines of her own mind. Ellen didn't quite understand that, but she never questioned it.
Kelly was sitting in the bean bag chair when she leaped up and ran to the kitchen, coming back with a packet of biscuits.
“I bought these the other day. They looked interesting so I thought I'd try them; do you want one?” she asked.
Ellen declined, and watched as Kelly opened the packet, took one bite of one, screwed up her face in revulsion and then tossed away the packet in disgust.
“I won't be buying them again,” she said.
“Now, come on Ellen, we must try piecing together what happened. It's the only thing that's been on my mind all day and I simply must know. Otherwise, it's going to drive me positively crazy.”
“I really don't think we're going to be able to do much from here. We're only guessing.”
“We can come up with a plan at least. Now, a number of theories were presented today and, while I don't believe in most of them, I do think some of them may have some merit. I mean, for all we know, George could have been a spy once upon a time, and if he was privy to national secrets he may have been killed.”
“Why would a spy come to live here, of all places?”
“It's the perfect cover. Who would ever suspect an old man who lived in a place like this? You have to think these things through Ellen. It's not completely inconceivable.”
“If you say so,” Ellen said in a patronizing tone, but Kelly was already off on another train of thought so she didn't even notice.
“I asked all around town and I even asked the computer but there doesn't seem to be anyone who wanted him dead.”
“So perhaps that is the most reasonable explanation. I know he was active but let's face it, he was old. Maybe it was simply his time,” she said, deciding not to tell Kelly that Andy had similar reservations.
“I still think there's something more going on,” Kelly said tenaciously, “I did read about his ex-wife and-”
“Please don't tell me you think it's going to turn out to be a ghost. It's hard enough to believe anyone wanted to kill him. Now you want me to belie
ve in the supernatural? Why would the ghost of his wife even want to kill him? Didn't she love him?”
“Maybe she's lonely and wants him to hurry up and join her,” Kelly said after a moment's reflection.
Ellen burst out laughing at the audacity of the idea, but was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Both women looked at each other in shock. Usually there would have been no fear but George had died in his own home and the door had been left open. If there was a killer, he could be anyone and could strike at any time.
“Go and answer it for me,” Kelly said.
“It's your house,” Ellen protested.
The two women stared at each other for a while until Ellen finally flung her hands up in the air and went to open the door. She opened it without hesitation, and as it opened Kelly cowered behind Ellen's back. They both were relieved when it was only Mrs. Hamilton, who was holding Scampy.
“I tried your house but I figured since you weren't there you'd be here. I'm sorry, but we can't take care of Scampy. I don't know what's gotten into him but he won't settle down at all and he's been tearing around the house like a whirling dervish. If we were a few years younger then, perhaps...but he's too energetic for us. Do you mind looking after him yourself?” She thrust Scampy back in Ellen's arms without waiting for an answer, then swiftly turned and walked back into the evening.
“I don't even know how to take care of a dog!” Ellen called out after her.
“Just give him some water and meat, and make sure he gets exercise!” Mrs. Hamilton called back, her portly frame disappearing in the twilight. Ellen closed the door and turned back to face Kelly with a helpless look on her face.
“Looks like we have a guest,” she said, carrying the dog back into the house. She let him down, and the dog ran around. Kelly looked worried.
“He's not going to get in anywhere he's not supposed to be, is he?”
“I'm sure he'll be fine. We'll keep an eye on him. Don't worry, I'll make sure to take him back with me. You won't have to put up with him for that long,” she said, and Kelly looked relieved.
However, when they resumed talking Kelly often found herself glancing in the direction of Scampy, just to make sure the dog wasn't getting into any mischief.
“So if it's not a ghost then who do you think it is?” Kelly challenged.
“I really don't know. If there was a murder then you're right, it's difficult to think of anyone who could have motive. I mean, we know pretty much everyone in town and I can't think of anyone who would be capable of such a thing, but then again sometimes people can surprise you.”
“Yes indeed, like you did today,” Kelly said with a playful look in her eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, just that you and Andy looked rather cozy there in the cafe before I arrived. Pray tell, what were the two of you talking about?”
“Mostly about George, and then we were just chatting about whatever came up.”
“Mmm, and did a date come up?”
“Oh Kelly, don't be silly. We're adults, we just spend time together as friends occasionally, that's all.”
“Now why do I not believe that? You know, for being such good friends I do find it rather hurtful that you won't be honest about the little crush you have on Andy.”
“I don't have a crush,” Ellen said, although the crimson shade of her cheeks belied that claim. Kelly raised an eyebrow and smiled wickedly.
“It's quite plain you do, and I think our good police officer feels the same way.”
“You do?” Ellen said, a beat too quickly.
“Oh yes, I'm sure the two of you will muddle something out though. These things often sort themselves out.”
“Well, I don't know about that, but he's a little too busy for romance at the moment with the murder and all.”
“Yes, speaking of that, you know, why is it whenever I'm around you I always lose track of what I'm saying? Anyway, I just thought of something.”
“What's that?”
“Let me show you,” Kelly said, and then asked Ellen to go and stand near Scampy.
Ellen looked at her skeptically for a moment before indulging her request, and walked up to the dog. Nothing happened, apart from Scampy thinking he was going to get a treat, followed by a small whimper of disappointment.
“I don't know what you hoped to prove by that,” Ellen said as she descended into the beanbag chair again.
“I haven't finished yet,” Kelly said haughtily.
This time she walked up to Scampy, and the dog growled. Ellen still looked nonplussed, until finally the penny dropped. She leaned forward in her beanbag, seized by the exhilaration of revelation.
“Oh! I see! You think that because Scampy can tell different people apart he might know who the murderer is!”
Kelly nodded enthusiastically and held her palms out, and then after a little while moved away from Scampy, for he was still growling at her and it made her uncomfortable.
“It's not foolproof but presumably Scampy saw whoever killed George,” Kelly said.
“Yeah, it's certainly something to think about.”
“We can at least take Scampy around town tomorrow and see if he barks at anyone. And the best thing is it won't raise any suspicion because people will think we're just taking him for a walk. If nothing happens then we haven't lost out, we just know it didn't work. This is exciting. I feel like a proper detective!” Kelly said, and clapped loudly, which only served to excite Scampy more.
“Do you think we should tell Andy about this? It might be something he can use in his investigation, and it could get the two of you working closely together,” Kelly suggested, narrowing her eyes, which contained within them a mischievous twinkle.
“Let's let him do his own investigation for now. He is the professional after all, and we don't even know if this is going to work. It does, after all, depend on this little fellow,” she said, and patted her lap. Scampy ran across the floor, jumped into her lap, curled into a bundle, and then settled down comfortably.
“You two are really taking a shine to each other, I'm surprised.”
“Well, I've never had a problem with animals, they've just always had a problem with me.”
“Lucky for us Scampy is different, and maybe it's lucky for George as well,” Kelly said, and Ellen gave Kelly her silent approval.
However, she did have an ulterior motive for not telling Andy about the plan. She felt the police chief wouldn't let her take such a risk. After all, she was still a civilian and if Scampy did bark at the murderer there would be nowhere to run.
The two women stayed up chatting for a while longer until Ellen felt her eyelids growing heavy. She yawned, stretched her arms, and declared that she had better be going home. But upon hearing those words Kelly demanded she stay.
“Kelly, I have a perfectly good bed to go home to, and do you really want Scampy staying here all through the night?”
“I don't care about that, I'm not letting you go walking the streets alone at this time of night, not when there could be a murderer out there. He could strike at any moment and I never would be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
“Kelly,” Ellen said in a tone that made it clear she thought Kelly was being silly, but Kelly had a determined look in her eyes.
Ellen stared out the window, looking at the town, which was bathed in the light of the pale, wan moon. It seemed so quiet and peaceful it was hard to believe there could be a murderer in their midst. As she looked out at the small town, Ellen felt a chilled fear run along her spine. Her house was only a short walk away, but the shadows loomed large and her mind was alive with grim portents.
“Perhaps you're right,” she said, and Kelly gave her a satisfied smile.
As Ellen curled up on the couch she fell asleep to the sound of Scampy wagging his tail, for he was sleeping on the floor beside the couch. Her last thought was she hoped she wouldn't wake up to find out someone else had been murdered. One was more than
enough.
Chapter 4
The following morning the cafe was fairly quiet as usual, but the people in there still were talking about George. It was natural because so little of note happened in East Pender that when something did it was the talk of the town, but Ellen wished there was a happier subject to be discussed. Thankfully that night there hadn't been any other murders, and before she arrived at the cafe she had popped home to wash and change her clothes. Scampy followed her dutifully. Even if she had wanted to, she didn't think she could have gotten rid of the dog. He was endearing and proved to be charming company.
When she had walked to work that morning the bright light of the sun filled her with a sense of safety, quite in contrast to the previous night where she had gazed out on the town with trepidation. But there was a sense of uneasiness as well because, for all she knew, the murderer could have been someone who had come into the cafe at some point. She could have looked him in the eyes, and even exchanged small talk with him, and it was a difficult thing to try putting that out of her mind.
Out of respect, she had asked around town for a photo of George, and one now sat propped up on the counter. When people came in they looked at the photo and wore a sad smile as they paid their respects. Nobody had anything bad to say about George and it still made Ellen wonder why anyone would have wanted to kill him. She thought perhaps they were barking up the wrong tree and that he had died of natural causes. It would have made everything a little neater, and would have prevented everyone from feeling scared and paranoid. But Andy had been so sure there was something more afoot it made Ellen convinced as well. She had known Andy long enough to trust his judgment. He wasn't one to engage in wild speculation or theories. He was methodical, and there must have been something in those meticulous notes that made him think George was murdered. But who would have the motive?