“Eric is too close to us because he’s dating my niece,” Sherry said. “He’s either recused himself or been pulled from the case.”
“Then we’d best call that criminal attorney, Dinah Souse,” Dab said, “because that Vogelman woman is going to be trouble.”
• • •
Before the Six left for the day, Maise told me to eat the leftover raw veggies and the last cold meat loaf sandwich already in my fridge upstairs. Her meat loaf was perfect hot and perfect cold, so I wasn’t about to demur. I could tell she was gung ho to hold a war council, but she only said we all needed to rest.
I also learned what had set Fred off earlier. Eleanor told me Vogelman had given them attitude when she’d first come in. She’d demanded to see our tiny kitchenette and said she’d get a warrant if Aster didn’t cooperate. Fred might’ve beaned her with a wrench then and there if he’d been standing closer. As it was, Dab and Maise had held him back while Vogelman opened and closed the few cabinet doors and looked in the wastebasket. That was when he’d taken off to find Sherry and me.
I was surprised Charlene Vogelman would come on so strong with the Six. Then again, except for one hint of a smile, she’d been coldly formal with me at the crime scene. Professional distance I could understand. Wanting the truth, I could get on board with, and I knew from Eric that she’d had an excellent track record for closing cases in Tulsa.
That gave me some comfort. She didn’t settle for the convenient suspect. She searched. She’d better do so in this case, because I wouldn’t stand for her railroading a member of my family.
• • •
I took the critters upstairs, kicked off my Crocs, and tossed a ball to Amber while I enticed T.C. with a long, feathery cat teaser. After a while, Amber decided to chase the teaser as I snaked it across the floor, and T.C. went after the ball. She didn’t fetch, but she liked batting it around.
I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d hear from Eric. If I did, what would I say? I had to admit Maise was right about him having a conflict of interest. He knew us all too well, and because of that, we wouldn’t be high on his suspect list. And I definitely should not ask questions about the case.
Then again, I wasn’t big on “should dos” and “ought tos.”
At six I was pouring kibble into critter bowls when my cell played the whistling Castle theme song, the ringtone I’d assigned to Eric. In my dash to get to the living room, I tripped over T.C., then stubbed my toe on the coffee table.
“Ouch. Hello?”
“What was the ouch for?” he asked.
“I stubbed my toe. How are you?”
“Okay. Uh, Amber and T.C. haven’t been to the dog park in a while. It’ll be dark soon, so there shouldn’t be anyone there.”
Eric’s friends who spearheaded the dog park had given me the okay to bring T.C. along with Amber, as long as it was empty. That was normally shortly before sunset.
“Nixy? You there?”
“Are you sure you want to be seen with me?”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. Will you let me pick you up in about five minutes?”
“I’m still in my work clothes.”
“Not a problem for me if it isn’t for you.”
It should be. I should have jumped in the shower when I came upstairs, but I’d chosen to veg out.
“Please, Nixy. I need to see you.”
The edge in his tone swayed me. “We’ll meet you in the alley.”
We disconnected, and I turned to find a set of amber and a set of green eyes staring at me.
“Want to go to the park, girls?”
They perked their ears and tilted their furry heads.
“Go with Eric?”
That truly magic phrase had Amber racing to the toy basket. This time she dug T.C.’s harness and leash out first, then her own leash. I got them ready to go, stretching my back as I straightened, and then slipped on my Crocs. By the time I got downstairs, Eric stood by his truck with the back door open. Both animals nimbly leaped inside, and then he lightly laid his hand on my back and escorted me to the passenger side. The good ol’ butterflies took flight in my belly. Hard to be angry with a guy who makes you feel treasured.
Or with a guy just doing his job.
The park wasn’t far, and I filled the time telling him the progress we’d made in the store. I wasn’t ready to grill him about Cornell yet.
“As often as I’ve seen y’all dust, I’m surprised it needed cleaning,” he said as we pulled up to the park.
“It wasn’t too bad, but Sherry called it fall cleaning. I’m sure we’ll do it again after the spring festival. Yes, Amber, we’re here.” My dog gently pawed my arm from where she’d perched herself halfway on the console to see out the windshield. She knew exactly where she was, and so did T.C. She’d balanced herself atop the passenger seat and my shoulder.
Though neither critter had ever shown the least interest in running off to chase something, and no one was in the adjacent children’s playground to tempt them, we snapped on their leashes as a matter of course until they were inside the first of the dog park gates. Actually, there were four gates altogether if one counted the two leading into the area exclusively for small dogs. The combined space was an acre and half and partly shaded by mature trees. I’d figured the native grasses covering the park would be torn up by doggie nails by now, but other than beginning to turn autumn brown, the mown carpet of grass remained intact. Thick mulch lined the chain-link fences, circled the trees, and marched along the row of bushes planted along the fence line that separated the large and small dog areas.
The main attraction in both areas was the doggie playground, aka the array of agility equipment, their bright colors not the least bit faded from the summer sun. Amber immediately leaped through hoops and over hurdles. T.C. was at her heels until she spotted a squirrel on a low tree branch. The cat was perfectly capable of climbing the tree, but she merely circled and meowed.
Meantime Amber ran back to us and danced around Eric’s feet. She’d seen him holding the soft disk she loved to chase. He threw it and she bolted after it, nearly catching it in the air. She pranced back with it in her teeth, and the two of them played toss and retrieve for a while before Amber romped off to check on T.C., and then get a drink from the kiddie splash pool.
“Come sit with me,” Eric said, and grasped my hand to lead me to one of the half-dozen benches with dog-bone-shaped backs.
“Are we going to talk about the elephant in the dog park?” I asked.
He gave me a level look. “Charlene is investigating this as a suspicious death, but there’s a possibility Cornell Lewis was murdered.”
I strove for calm. “Okay, considering how many people he apparently hurt, insulted, or otherwise annoyed, I figured that. How can you be sure he was deliberately killed?”
“Right now, we can’t be. Or rather Charlene can’t be. It’s her case.”
“Go on.”
“Dr. Jones’s opinion is that Cornell died of a food allergy rather than an insect sting. I don’t know what he saw that led him to that conclusion, and the state medical examiner will determine the official cause, but Charlene confirmed he had a peanut allergy this afternoon.”
“I’m surprised she got his medical records so quickly.”
“When you gave her the Camden lead, she tracked Cornell to a homeless shelter there and talked with the administrator, Scott Dowdell. A doctor who donates his services to community outreach made a note of his severe allergy, but also detected a heart problem.”
“So the allergic reaction could’ve triggered a heart attack.” He gave me questioning look and I explained, “After Vogelman asked Maise and Aster about nuts in their snickerdoodles recipe, Maise gave us a crash course in anaphylaxis. I don’t suppose you found an empty bag of peanuts in the car.”
He shook his h
ead. “I wish we had.”
“Does Vogelman remember my statement about the cookie plate Cornell had at the hot dog stand? He had only four cookies left, and there had to be six or seven in the car.”
“I’m sure she’s taking that into account.”
I gave him a sharp glance. “What are you not saying? That Vogelman thinks I’m lying? That Aster and Maise made more cookies, and poked peanuts in them, or rolled them in peanut dust? All on the off chance they could first find Cornell, and then get him to eat them?”
He grimaced. “I can’t say any more, Nixy.”
I held his gaze, knowing one of my questions had hit an investigative nerve. But which one? I took a steadying breath.
“Listen, Eric, Cornell Lewis being killed is bad. He told Eleanor he’d changed, and in my little bit of dealing with him I think he really was reformed or well on his way. I feel bad that I’ll never know if I was right about him, but what I can’t stand is having the Silver Six suspected of his murder.”
“I know, and I wouldn’t have a one of them on my list as a serious contender for it, but I’m not working the case.”
“Because we’re dating, right?”
“And the Silver Six are your family.”
“I’m not going to ask you about the case per se—”
“Or trick me into telling you anything?”
“No, but I want to ask why Charlene Vogelman seems to have them in her sights.”
He looked toward Amber and T.C. playing one-sided tag on the tunnel. T.C. draped herself on top of the tunnel at one end, and when Amber ran through, the cat swiped a paw at her. The dog ran right around to do it all again, and the cat obliged.
“Look at it from her perspective. Aster and Maise made snickerdoodles for the sale, and Cornell bought them. Later he’s found dead with the same kind of cookies on the front seat, and with a plate cover that was clearly theirs. You confirmed you saw Cornell with that plate, or at least saw the cover, and verified he had a peanut allergy.” He stopped for a breath. “She can’t ignore all that. It would be unprofessional.”
“But Maise and Aster didn’t have one reason to kill Cornell.”
“Eleanor was angry that Cornell showed up. She wanted me to run him out of town.”
“Eleanor isn’t Aster or Maise, and you know she wasn’t serious. Besides, you didn’t tell Vogelman about that, did you?”
“I didn’t have to. Kathy or Jasmine apparently mentioned it to someone, and Vogelman got wind of it.”
“Does she think Aster and Maise bumped off Cornell for Eleanor’s sake?” I shot off the bench and paced. “That’s idiotic. Next you’ll tell me Vogelman suspects we all conspired to kill Cornell.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not precisely, but you’re all thick as thieves, forgive the expression. You’ve said it yourself. The Six are tighter and more loyal to each other than most families.”
“None of the Six left the farmhouse after they went home on Sunday.”
“Which only makes all the close friends each other’s alibi. The same as having no alibi.”
“Then you should talk to Bernice Gilroy. If she wasn’t busy with her TV programs all night, she probably would’ve heard a car leave. She keeps binoculars on the kitchen table and spies on the neighbors. Mostly Sherry and the gang.”
“Mrs. Gilroy lives in a house Miz Sherry Mae owns. Would she be honest?”
I snorted. “To a fault. That woman says exactly what she wants, and lets the chips fall.”
“Then maybe you should ask her if any of the Six left Sunday night or very early Monday morning.”
“Maybe I will. Wait, did you just let the time-of-death window slip?”
“Don’t tell me you hadn’t already figured that out.”
“Well, it is a logical time span. Too many potential witnesses in daylight.”
He put his hands on my shoulders. “Nixy, I don’t want this to come between us.”
I sighed. “I don’t either, but I can’t traipse off to Eureka Springs with you as long as the Six are in jeopardy.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “You’re agreeing to the trip?”
“If this case is resolved.” I blew out a breath of pure frustration. “Eric, at least tell me Vogelman is looking at Dexter Hamlin. He put the beat-down on Cornell Sunday morning, for heaven’s sake.”
“We’re looking for Dex right now. He’s not in town, and his wife hasn’t seen him since late last night.”
“And that’s not suspicious?”
He took my hand. “Nixy, Cornell Lewis hurt and angered a lot of people when he managed that complex.”
“I met one of them at the hospital yesterday afternoon. Marshall Gibson. He about blew a gasket when I asked if Cornell had been in the ER.”
“I’ll mention him to Detective Vogelman, but she’s interviewing the people who still live at Ozark Arms, and those who’ve moved but live in town.” He squeezed my hand. “Please trust that she’ll look at every potential suspect.”
I nodded but didn’t necessarily agree. Sincere as Eric was, and much as I thought he believed what he was saying, I also thought I might be getting a bit of the party line. If the police chief was as eager for swift justice as he’d been during the last two murders, Vogelman would be under pressure to solve the case fast. Never mind to prove herself. That was pure common sense.
Dusk had settled in, and we called the critters. Amber raced over, tongue lolling out. Bless her heart, she needed more vigorous exercise than I gave her on a regular basis. Or her breed usually did, according to Dr. Barklay, the vet. I did play with Amber in the parking lot, and at the farmhouse when we went out to visit. Dab and Fred ran her around, too. T.C. always came along, and both animals seemed happy and healthy, so maybe I should just keep doing what I was doing, and let the worry go.
I had enough concerns about the Silver Six. I didn’t need to borrow trouble.
Chapter Ten
Eric asked if I’d eaten yet, and when I said no, he admitted he hadn’t either. Still in my work clothes, and having the critters with us, I didn’t want to take the time to run them home, shower, and change. I know, I know. I’m months into dating a hot guy I’m kind of nuts about, and yet I’m too lazy to clean up for him. Maybe I needed my head examined, but my body was bone tired.
Instead I offered to share my veggies and meat loaf sandwich with him.
“I’m in,” he accepted without hesitation, “but let’s run by the Dairy Queen, too.”
“Not if you’re buying fries to accidentally drop on the floor for Amber and T.C.”
“Who, me?” he asked with false innocence. “No, I thought you could use a latte or banana shake.”
Two of my faves. I grinned. “Let’s go.”
I decided on the DQ version of a latte, and Eric went crazy with a black coffee and a banana split with two doses of chocolate and one dose of caramel topping. We were hardly five minutes from my place, but time enough for the soft-serve ice cream to melt.
Or so I thought. Eric put the little plastic boat in an ice chest. With plenty of ice to keep the banana split cold for our short drive.
“You always have ice in the chest?” I asked archly.
“I’m nothing if not prepared,” he said with a grin.
T.C. didn’t care for milk, and I’d learned since I had her that many if not most adult cats don’t. But ice cream from Eric? That she wanted, so we dug out a dollop of it without chocolate or caramel for both her and Amber. Then with our treat in the freezer, we sat side by side on stools at the kitchen counter eating half sandwiches with celery, carrots, broccoli, and cherry tomatoes. He had ranch dressing dip with his veggies, but I declined. I was saving my calories for dessert.
“About the trip, Nixy,” he began as we made short work of the banana split. “Did you mention it to Miz Sherry Mae?”
“I did, and she went into raptures about the historic hotels and scenery.”
He chuckled. “No objections?”
“None, and she offered to keep the critters for me, too. I do have to coordinate the work schedule. Do you have an exact time in mind?”
“I thought we’d go the first weekend in November. Peak fall color is supposed to be that month, though it could be earlier or later.”
“We’ll have to take our chances.”
“We’ll make the most of it,” he said, offering the last bit of banana to me from his spoon.
I held eye contact as I took it, chewed just enough to swallow, and then leaned in for a kiss.
We didn’t get far into the action before his cell buzzed. He’d put the phone on the countertop, and now the vibration made it skid along the surface.
“Shoar.”
I could’ve stayed right where I was and shamelessly eavesdropped. Instead, I grabbed the plastic ice cream boat and spoons, put them in the kitchen sink, and shamelessly eavesdropped. Not that I heard much.
“Already?” he asked. Then, “No, I can come back. Yeah, see you in a few.”
His smile held so much regret, I went to him with open arms and we shared a long kiss.
“Go,” I said when I stepped away. “I’ll talk with you later.”
He smiled, but I could’ve sworn he muttered, “I hope you will,” as he closed my apartment door.
• • •
Eric hadn’t told me anything about Vogelman’s thinking that the Six and I hadn’t already concluded, namely that one or more of us might be suspects. Particularly Aster and Maise, but I didn’t like having our theory confirmed. With the shop closed again tomorrow, we definitely needed to make time for one of Maise’s war councils.
Since it wasn’t nine o’clock yet, I called the farmhouse landline. Even if the ladies were snuggled in bed, the men might be up watching Monday Night Football. After three rings, Maise answered.
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