“I’m afraid she doesn’t go out at all anymore. Hasn’t for at least a year now.”
“Such a shame,” Cynthia murmured.
“Her choice. I hired a therapist to come to the house to see her once a week, but half the time, she won’t even answer the door when the lady comes. It’s frustrating, but I really don’t know what else to do.”
“That’s too bad, Karl. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” Tracey said awkwardly. There was a moment of silence all around as we reflected on Eva’s plight. Pete shuffled his feet and cleared his throat.
Cynthia finally broke the silence. “I had a visit from two Center City detectives investigating Victor’s murder. They wanted to know who might have had a grudge against him. Unfortunately, there are a lot of people in Hawkeye Haven who had good reason to hate Victor. Maybe even Courtney.”
“You didn’t tell them that Courtney hated her father, did you, Cynthia?” Karl asked, looking stricken.
“She didn’t hate him, Karl, but he certainly wasn’t very nice to her. That’s what I told the police.”
“I just don’t want the police getting some harebrained idea that Courtney killed her own father. When they questioned her, I thought they were being pretty rough on her. After all, the poor kid had just come home from work when she found him. I was outside watering the roses, and I heard her scream only a few seconds after she got out of her car. Even if she’d wanted to shoot him, she couldn’t possibly have had time to do it, and that’s what I told the cops.”
“No telling how long Victor’d been lying there. With the courtyard wall hiding the front door the way it does on Victor’s house, there’s no way anyone could have seen anything from the street,” Pete noted.
“That’s true. I didn’t see a thing, and I was right across the street,” Karl agreed.
“And I didn’t see anything either, even though I was having my coffee in the living room, and I can see Victor’s house from the front bay window. I didn’t know anything was wrong until I heard sirens,” Cynthia said.
“I followed the firefighters and police down your street when I heard the sirens. A crowd had gathered, and that’s when I saw Cynthia and Amy,” I added.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Pete noted. “I slept through it all. When Cynthia got home from her golf game, she told me that Victor had been murdered. She could have knocked me over with a feather. I was that shocked. I always thought we lived in the safest place in town.”
“Anybody have any idea who might have killed Victor?” Tracey asked.
“My money’s on Sonya’s husband,” Pete said. “I was in the locker room at the golf course when Tommy overheard Victor bragging about how he was going to make Sonya and Tommy rip their pool out and start all over if they wanted to have a swimming pool. Believe me, Tommy was plenty steamed. A couple of other guys and I had to drag Tommy out of there before he clocked Victor, but Victor just laughed at him. Naturally, that made Tommy even angrier.”
“I don’t know who did it, but I just don’t like the idea that some of our neighbors think Courtney’s a killer,” Karl said. “People should mind their own business, especially when they don’t know what they’re talking about. Courtney may act a little flaky sometimes, but she’s basically a good kid.”
“Karl, she may be a suspect because of the financial angle since she’s Victor’s only heir. That would give her a motive to kill her father, wouldn’t it?” Cynthia asked.
“Cynthia, not you too,” Karl protested. “You can’t seriously believe that Courtney had anything to do with her father’s murder. I told you she’d only just arrived home from working all night at the canning factory. Even if she’d wanted to kill him, she didn’t have time.”
“You’re right, Karl,” Cynthia agreed, “and I don’t think Courtney’s capable of killing anyone myself. I’m just playing devil’s advocate. She does have a motive, but, as you say, she didn’t have time to shoot Victor. What is it they say on those true crime shows—motive, means, and opportunity? Anyway, I hope the police can sort it out. As Pete said, we always felt so safe in Hawkeye Haven. I never used to lock our doors, but since the attack on the security guard and Victor’s murder, you’d better believe that I make sure all our doors and windows are locked.”
“What do you think, Laurel?” Tracey asked.
“I don’t know, but I’d hate to think that one of our neighbors could actually be a murderer.” I hadn’t told anyone else what Luke had revealed about Bessie’s gun, not even Tracey. Somehow I didn’t think that Luke intended that information to become public knowledge, and perhaps he regretted confiding in me.
“We should probably get going, Tracey. Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bill should be meeting us in about five minutes.”
“Yeah, Dad will be anxious to get back home in time to watch the Seahawks play a pre-season game. You know how impatient he can get sometimes.”
“And how,” I agreed.
Chapter 10
Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bill were waiting by the door to the parking garage when we spotted them. As it turned out, Uncle Bill didn’t want to miss the kickoff of the Seahawks’ game, so we wasted no time in returning home.
When we arrived back at Tracey’s house, I said my good-byes to my aunt and uncle. I knew Bear would be eagerly awaiting my arrival so that he could have his dinner. Since I’d never been much of a football fan, watching the game didn’t appeal to me. When Tracey accompanied me to my car, she told me that it was a good thing the game would be starting in a few minutes because, otherwise, her parents would have wanted to watch the early evening news, and there was sure to be another report about the murder in our guard-gated community.
Satisfied that there was little likelihood that Tracey’s parents would find out about it, especially since they had an early flight in the morning, I headed for home, feeling a bit deceptive, but rationalizing that keeping the news of the crimes from my aunt and uncle would prevent them from worrying unnecessarily. Of course, neither Tracey nor I would ever hear the end of it if our relatives found out that there’d been a murder only half a block from Tracey’s house. We’d both endured more than enough nagging about our possible return to Seattle since we’d moved to Center City, and since neither of us had any intention of returning there to live, we’d just as soon avoid listening to more pleas to come back home.
Bear was beside himself with anticipation when I arrived home. He bounced around the kitchen as I prepared his long-awaited meal, and when I set his bowl on his personalized placemat next to the refrigerator, he gulped his dinner down in less than a minute. Wagging his tail, he came over to me for his dessert—a couple of the peanut butter treats he likes so much. I tossed them to him, one at a time, and he quickly ate them.
“Let’s go outside, Bear,” I said, sliding the patio door open. I sat on a comfortable lawn chair on the patio, Bear lounging beside me, and thought about some of the projects that I could include in my DIY for Dog Lovers book.
“Stay, Bear,” I commanded, as I went inside to grab my portfolio, where I kept my project notes. Returning to my chair on the patio, I noticed that Bear hadn’t moved at all. In fact, he looked as though he’d be napping any second.
I made a mental note to call my agent, Jenna, in the morning to discuss the book with her. It didn’t make sense to do any more work on it if she thought that there wouldn’t be a market for it. From the little research I’d done so far, I thought it was a viable project, but Jenna has far more expertise than I do, so I needed to consult her. I rummaged through my notes, which I had to admit weren’t very organized. If and when Jenna gave me the go-ahead on the book, I’d transfer all the bits and pieces of information I’d gathered, along with my ideas and project instructions, to my computer right away.
Leafing through the odds and ends of paper with ideas scribbled on them, I found that I didn’t have nearly as much material as I had thought. That could be a good thing if my agent didn’t like my DIY for Dog Lovers book idea, or it could be
a bad thing because I’d need to gather a lot more information and come up with several more projects if Jenna thought that she could sell the book. Quickly, I numbered the lines on a sheet of paper from my notebook and began listing the projects that I was fairly confident I could put together, along with the instructions for making each project.
Each project would require a finished sample, which the publisher would arrange to have photographed by a top-notch professional. Thank goodness I didn’t have to provide photographs of any of the projects for my books, or my DIY Diva career might never have gotten off the ground! In the early years when I’d first started my blog, I’d never taken my own pictures of the DIY projects I had created, but I’d been very fortunate to have a good friend in Seattle who is a wonderful photographer, and she had offered to take the pictures for me to post on my blog. In return, I had made several pieces of jewelry for her, and our barter system had enabled me to launch my career. After I moved to Center City, I learned to take my own photos, out of necessity. Although I’d never win any prizes for photography, my pictures served their purpose as illustrations for projects I posted on my blog or PowerPoint slides for my class presentations.
Writing project instructions came easily to me by this point because I’d done hundreds of them for my books and classes, so that was no problem, but glancing at my list, I saw that I had only ten projects that I definitely felt comfortable with. I’d need about fifteen more for the type of DIY book I usually write. Hmmmm. Recipes for dog treats were always good. I needed to have more of those, and I needed to remember to ask Bessie about hers. My cousin Lynn fed Barkley, her beagle, little round dog treats that she made of pumpkin, but I didn’t know what any of the other ingredients were.
While I was thinking about it, I grabbed my smartphone and texted Lynn, asking for the recipe. A few seconds after I sent my text, my phone beeped, signaling an incoming message. Although she was at the park with her husband Sam, her five-month-old daughter, Emma, and Barkley, she promised to email me the recipe as soon as they returned home. I smiled. My relatives and friends were the best. They’d always supported me in my work, and they frequently contributed a few projects, gave me feedback, and even helped test some of my instructions at times.
I thought about a few ways to get some more inspiration for new projects. Tomorrow I could tour the local big-box pet stores and pet boutiques, and maybe browse through some specialty dog magazines at the library or bookstore, but before I made my rounds, I’d definitely call Jenna.
With my concentration on the new book, I’d almost forgotten that I had something else to do tomorrow. Bessie would be coming in to Luke’s office to turn in her equipment, and he’d be checking with her to find out whether she’d like to have a retirement party. Maybe I should be there, too. If Bessie liked the party idea, I could get some names of people she’d like to invite, and I could also ask her about the recipe for the dog treats that she’d given Bear every morning. I hoped she would go along with the party idea. After putting in ten years at Hawkeye Haven in a job that didn’t provide many kudos, she deserved some recognition.
After concentrating on my to-do list for a while, I became aware of a low murmur of conversation, occasionally punctuated by laughter, which was coming from the backyard next door. Despite the separation of all the backyards in Hawkeye Haven by walls that are six feet high, sounds carry, and although I couldn’t hear what they were saying, I recognized the voices as Liz’s and the colonel’s. Good, I thought. Their romance was blossoming. I wished I’d had a chance to ask Liz about the date she’d had last night with the colonel––or Bobby, as she preferred to call him––but I never call Liz before noon because she likes to sleep late, sometimes really late, and I wouldn’t want to disturb her. Tomorrow I’d satisfy my curiosity and find out all the details. That resolution was another item to add to my list of things to do tomorrow. The longer I sat outside in my lawn chair with my sleeping dog snoring softly beside me and allowed my mind to wander, the longer my list grew. I finally decided my list was long enough, and after rousing Bear, I went inside to watch an old movie on TV while Bear continued his snooze on the bed I’d made for him, which sat next to the sofa in the den. Like Scarlett O’Hara, I wouldn’t bother to think about anything else until tomorrow.
The next day, right after my early morning walk with Bear, I fortified myself with a cup of coffee and phoned my agent. Although the time in Center City was only 6:30 a.m., it was an hour later in New York, where my agent lives, and since she usually arrives at work fairly early, there was a good chance I’d catch her in the office. Sure enough, Jenna answered the phone herself, and I was delighted when she approved of my DIY for Dog Lovers book idea. Now I’d really have to get to work on it because Jenna wanted to see an introduction and a list of the projects that I proposed to include in the book, and she wanted it in two weeks. That didn’t give me much time to come up with ten or fifteen more projects, so I decided to run over to the library, a pet boutique, and one of the giant pet stores in search of inspiration. I quickly showered and dressed before grabbing my bag and keys and heading out the door.
“Stay home and be a good boy, Bear,” I instructed, as my big, furry Lab looked at me with sad brown eyes. If Bear had his way, I’d never leave him alone. His cheerless look had its desired effect on me, and I promised him that Mommy would bring him a doggie treat from the Paw-tisserie, a bakery that specialized in treats for pets. What a pushover I am for my pet! That’s a plus, I thought, because lots of other people must feel the same way, and that meant that there would be a good market for my book.
In my enthusiasm to garner inspiration, I’d forgotten that Pets-R-Us didn’t open until nine o’clock, and the Paw-tisserie, as well as the local branch of the library, opened an hour later. I didn’t want to go home and get Bear all stirred up, only to leave again, so I pulled into a Starbucks drive-thru line. I might as well have another cup of coffee while I waited, I reasoned, but the line was even longer than I’d realized, and it was obvious that I’d be there for a while.
With time to kill, I phoned Luke to find out whether he knew what time Bessie was planning to drop by his office. I wanted to see her, if possible, especially because I was afraid that she might tell Luke that she didn’t want to have a going-away party, and maybe I could persuade her that it would be fun. I wanted her to leave with dignity, her head held high, rather than disappearing without any fanfare. I knew she felt embarrassed about having been caught by surprise when she was attacked, but it could have happened to anyone, even a much younger and stronger guard. Luke didn’t answer his office phone, and I didn’t have his cell number, so I left a voice mail asking him to call me.
Slowly the line of cars moved forward, and I finally picked up my caramel macchiato grande. I set it carefully in the cup holder and drove across the parking lot to Pets-R-Us, where I parked and sipped my coffee until I saw that the small group of people gathered at the front door had begun to file into the store.
Depositing my cup in the trash can next to the entrance of Pets-R-Us, I followed the crowd inside and began wandering up and down the aisles. Dog beds, dog toys, dog apparel—these items all held appeal. I knew that I could design some cute dog beds, maybe one with appliqués and another with an attached pillow. As for dog toys, my experience with Bear had shown me that many of them just weren’t too sturdy, especially for big dogs like Bear, who invariably destroyed any stuffed toys within a few minutes, but I thought that some type of very sturdy pull toy might work. Bear loves to play tug-of-war with a knotted rope.
Bear would never wear a coat. He loves cold weather, and with his thick undercoat, he doesn’t need the extra coverage, but smaller dogs with thinner coats might wear a cute rain slicker or a coat decorated with faux fur. I tapped a few quick notes into my smartphone and emailed them to myself, just so that I wouldn’t forget any of my ideas.
My next stop was the Paw-tisserie, a bakery that featured “Tasty Treats for Precious Pets,” according to the
large banner that hung over the glass counters, which were brimming with enticing snacks for dogs and cats. I bought Bear a few treats and browsed around the store. Treats containing apples seemed to be popular, so I decided to add apple treats to my list of possible projects. I’d need to either create a recipe myself, which probably wasn’t going to happen, or I could ask Tracey to come up with one. My BFF was a genius in the kitchen, and she enjoyed experimenting and creating new recipes. Bear and I both really liked the yam chips that Tracey often made, but she hadn’t had much time lately to bake.
In addition to all the goodies for canine companions, the Paw-tisserie was featuring Halloween costumes for pets. Although the pet parents undoubtedly enjoyed the costumes more than their pets did, I thought they were cute and appealing, and I knew that I could easily design a few Halloween and other seasonal canine costumes to include in my book.
Tucking Bear’s snacks into my handbag, I headed for the nearest branch of the Center City Library, where I perused a magazine about dogs. One article concerned a backpacking trip the author had taken with his dog. A photograph of the two showed both of them wearing backpacks. The picture gave me the inspiration for a type of a carrier that a medium or large dog could wear with pouches for water bottles and toys or other items to take along on a walk.
My list of possible project ideas had expanded considerably, and I was pleased that my morning had been productive. Although I never copied anybody else’s design, I often could find inspiration by looking at items currently being sold in retail stores, and my strategy was proving just as effective for DIY projects for dogs as it had for DIY fashion and home decorating projects in the past.
Arriving home, I could hear Bear barking as I exited my car and opened the door that led from the garage into the hallway. Bear rushed to greet me, and I reached down to pet him and tell him that he was a good boy. Panting, he ran to the back patio door, and I knew I couldn’t escape playing a game of fetch-the-ball with him. We went into the backyard, where I found his ball lying on the patio and threw it across the yard for him to chase. He brought it back and hurled it to me with a toss of his head. After about fifteen minutes of nonstop play, I’d had enough, and I signaled to Bear to come inside with me so that I could have lunch and he could have a snack.
Death by Association Page 10