by Lane Stone
Robber jumped out and I caught her mid-air, with both of my arms under her ribcage. If I lived to be a hundred years old, I would never forget the look on Chief Turner’s face when he saw the airborne dog flying his way. Then his expression when he realized I had caught the animal and that he wasn’t going to die. I moved my right leg over Henry’s body and sidestepped to the door. Lady Anthea met us there. She gently pulled Chief Turner, who was imitating a statue, out of the way. I let Robber jump down from the van. Lady Anthea grabbed her collar and held on. Abby’s leash was hanging from her shoulder and with her free hand she hooked it to the dog. We allowed ourselves a quick smile for our victory. She led Robber to a nearby grassy island, where she promptly relieved herself.
When Chief Turner was able to speak again, he said, “I need the name and phone number of the victim’s next of kin.”
“Looks like what you need is a drink,” I said. I pulled my cell phone out of my pants pocket and hit speed dial for Buckingham’s. Shelby answered and I told her about Henry. Ignoring Turner’s scowl, I gave her a minute to digest the bad news before I asked her to look in Henry’s personnel folder.
She told Dana that she had to go to my office, then said to me, “Be right back.”
Being put on hold gave me a chance to think about what had happened. Every muscle in my body was clenched, and my heart was still racing. I don’t know one piece of classical music from another, and I was praying what I was listening to wasn’t the one where they fire a canon at the end. If it was, I would probably drop dead on the spot.
“You’re on hold?” Turner asked.
“No,” I lied. Then I made un-huh noises into the phone. Thanks to my recent close reading of The Killer Wore a Kilt, I knew the police liked to control the release of information on a case. He was going to give me a hard time for telling Shelby about Henry’s death, and if I pretended like I was still talking, I could put it off. Maybe he’d forget.
“You know I can hear the hold music, right?”
Giving up my pretend exchange, I said, “I trust Shelby. And I didn’t want to have to lie to her about why I needed the phone number.”
“Tell her not to tell anyone.”
While I waited for the information, I watched Lady Anthea walk Robber to the Jeep. She commanded the dog to jump into the rear of the car and she did, no questions asked. Then she leashed So-Long and took him over to the spot Robber had christened. By then I was ready to dictate the number, which the chief noted on his tablet. “He gave his sister as his closest relative. Her name is Ashley Trent and she lives in Albany, New York.” I asked Shelby to text me the addresses for our three passengers, and to tell the pet parents we were on our way.
“How does this work?” he asked, still typing.
I looked at him, wondering what kind of idiot the city had hired. “Well, somebody killed somebody and now you figure out who did it. Does that sound about right?”
His head jerked up. “That’s hardly what I was asking. Do your customers pay for these rides?” He motioned to the van.
“Sure.”
“Would your driver have been carrying money?”
“No.” I shook my head. “We have credit card numbers on file. All of the door-to-door services are paid that way. There are very few cash transactions for anything.”
“Did your employee wear anything someone might want to steal, like an expensive watch or jewelry?”
“No,” I answered.
“Do you know if he carried large amounts of cash in his wallet?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “I never saw him flashing any….” I let the sentence drift, and I turned to look over the top of the ferry building to the ocean. It was obvious the line of questioning was about a possible motive for Henry’s murder.
“Or drugs?”
I tilted my head back to Chief Turner. “Not that I ever saw or even suspected. I have no idea why anyone would do this.”
The chief nodded and went back to doing whatever police chiefs do when someone’s been murdered. His questions had made me uneasy about what the days ahead would bring, what we would learn about Henry and about our world.
Already the Buckingham van was surrounded by orange cones and four or five law enforcement officers. Two Lewes police cars, which for all I knew could be the totality of the force’s fleet, had been moved closer. The cheerful yellow swirls painted on their car doors now seemed unbefitting to me, and I turned my head.
Next, Paris had her turn for doing her business and she performed admirably. Lady Anthea got in the passenger seat and I placed both the smaller dogs on her lap. As I closed the door, I looked back to see the woman police officer picking sand and gravel out of the Buckingham van’s tire treads and bagging it. I pulled my eyes away.
“Our first stop will be to drop off the dachshund. Charles Andrews swears the dog has low blood sugar.”
“Does he?” Anthea looked the dog in the eye; it seemed she dared him to tell a fib. He pulled back. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“We checked with his vet to confirm that he doesn’t have diabetes. He doesn’t.”
I took back roads to Route 1 and we headed south toward Rehoboth Beach. In a few miles we turned left, back toward the water. We hadn’t been talking. Again, Lady Anthea seemed to be taking in as much of the scenery as she could.
“Here’s Charles’s street. I hope you haven’t been too uncomfortable holding both dogs.”
“Not at all. Do you think anyone will complain about the dogs riding in the front seat unsecured?”
“Once they know they’re in your lap, it’ll be fine,” I assured her.
Charles Andrews came out of his house before we had come to a complete stop. How was I going to explain where So-Long’s leash was? Turns out I didn’t have to. Anthea opened the car door and the eighty-year-old widower reached for his dog, easily taking him into his arms. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, maybe a touch of jet lag,” Lady Anthea said.
“I’m fine just a little sho…,” I said. Mr. Andrews was holding the dachshund close and looking into his eyes. It was obvious he hadn’t been asking about either of us. “Oh, you were talking to So-Long.”
“Yes, I was. I heard what happened. Or almost happened.”
“Almost?” My intention was to say as little as possible, but Henry wasn’t almost dead.
“Sue, I trusted you. And now I hear your employee was killed trying to steal our dogs.”
“Where did you hear that?” I asked, trying not to get annoyed.
“From an extremely reliable source.” You can’t throw a stick in a small town like Lewes without hitting a so-called reliable source.
As much as I wanted to know who had made such an outlandish suggestion about my employee, I didn’t have time to cajole it out of Charles Andrews. We had two more dogs to deliver. “Let’s wait until all the facts come out.”
He continued to examine his dog for ill effects. So-Long’s expression hadn’t changed. “May I introduce you to Lady Anthea Fitzwalter?”
That drew his attention from the dog, but not for long. “Pleasure to meet you.” Then he went back to scrutinizing his dog.
She smiled. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“See you Friday night,” I called on my way back to the Jeep.
“I don’t…” The rest of what Charles had to say was lost in a mumble.
“I do hope so, Mr. Andrews,” Lady Anthea said. “I always say it’s not summer without an annual fête.” Was it possible she had just sounded more British?
“Well, I guess I’ll be there.” Allowing himself to be charmed into relenting, but only to a maybe.
I said good night and we headed out for our next drop off. “He seemed to be having second thoughts about coming to the gala. And I know he had really been looking forward to it.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine by Friday. This is only Monday.”
***
“My poor baby! Almost a Canadian!” Kate Carter leaned into the back seat of the Jeep and hugged Robber.
Huh?
“Sue, I heard all about it. You must be so relieved he didn’t get away with it.”
For the time being, Henry’s killer had gotten away with it. I had known Kate, fifty-something, blond, tall, but she always wore heels, throwing safety to the wind for years. She read the confusion on my face. “You don’t know?”
I opened the rear passenger side door and a worn-out Robber lumbered down. “Know what?” Oh, I knew plenty.
Kate ran her hand down the back of her sleepy dog’s neck. “Your employee was on his way to Canada to sell our dogs. Somebody, must have been a dog person, committed murder to stop him. I hope you don’t have any other rogue employees like that. I’ve never heard anything like it.”
“Neither have I,” the British voice in the front seat said.
Lady Anthea got out and patted the startled dog owner’s arm. “Certainly, we can’t be too careful with our dogs.”
Kate was about to say something but Lady Anthea rolled on.
“The queen’s favorite corgi breeder is also my breeder.” Let’s just say, she didn’t have to worry about Kate interrupting again. That line was a showstopper. “Our corgis are from the same line. My two are being boarded at her farm while I’m here in the…” She hesitated. This was going to be good. Oh, no. What if she pulled out one of her obscure cultural references? “…The colonies.” She bestowed a smile, and Kate looked like she wished she had a notepad on her. “Buckingham Pet Palace is as safe as a dog can be. You have my word.”
“Thank yooooou,” Kate reverently whispered.
I couldn’t move. I had never seen anything like that performance. I was grateful. I’m not sure what the political parties are in England, but at that moment I would have voted for anyone my business partner wanted me to. Tories? Do they still have Tories?
I moved Paris from the driver’s seat, where Anthea had deposited her, and started the Jeep. I had to get Lady Anthea away from there before Kate started curtsying. We had one more stop before we could return to Lewes.
* * * *
I accelerated onto Route 1. We were both happy to have all three dogs safely in their own homes and to be heading back to Lewes for dinner. Betsy Rivard had the same crazy story about Henry intending to sell the dogs, and Anthea had charmed her the same way as the others. Of course, she felt her poodle, Paris, was the real target of the scheme.
“Is the weather always this pleasant?” she asked.
“The weather in Delaware is pretty mild. And this summer has been especially nice. We have the occasional tropical storm and nor’easter, but none are predicted this month. The weather should be perfect for Friday’s gala. Want to stop by the Lewes beach to watch the sunset before going to Gilligan’s?”
“Oh, yes! That would be lovely.”
I looked at the clock on the dash. “I just need to call Buckingham’s to check on everyone.” She cringed and I realized I had said Buckingham’s. That’s what all our pet parents call it, but Anthea hates it. Was she afraid someone would confuse the palace in London with a pet resort in Lewes, Delaware?
After a quick chat with Shelby, I had been assured the two overnight employees had fed all the boarders and most of the dogs were ready for bed. Dana had fed Abby and walked her to my house, before going home for the night. I told her about the crazy rumor that had spread so quickly.
“Who could have started it?” Shelby asked. “Only the police, Lady Anthea, and you know about Henry’s murder, right? I told our people what I knew, but I don’t think any of them would embellish it.”
Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. The only Buckingham staffer that would play fast and loose with the truth like that was Henry.
Anthea and I headed down Savannah Road to Lewes Beach at its end. A handful of cars were lined up facing the ocean. “About half of these people are vacationers. After Labor Day, only locals will come here.”
“When is that?”
“It’s the first weekend of September.” I parked but didn’t budge. It felt good to be still. “Most of the regulars who come here at this time of day are retirees and a lot of them are our clients.”
“I think it’s a good idea for the people here in the car park to see you and, if necessary, hear you refute that nonsense about their dogs being abducted.”
“After the day we’ve had, I’d rather have an early night.”
“It’ll help restore confidence. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”
I looked over at her.
“Shakespeare,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“Henry IV, specifically.”
“I meant, thank you for stepping up when we dropped off the dogs,” I said. “You charmed their socks off.”
“I was laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” She laughed at herself, but I had heard pride in a job well done in her voice.
“I wonder how many people will decide they have other plans for Friday night?” I looked through the windshield at the ocean, like it could tell me the future.
“What about after Friday night?” Lady Anthea’s question brought me out of my daze. “Could Henry’s murder irreparably damage the confidence the town has in the business?”
“Not if I can help it.” I opened the car door. “‘Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway.’ That was John Wayne.”
She got out and followed me to the white, sandy beach. Some of the sunset watchers were enjoying ice cream cones from the Dairy Queen across the street. Hopkins Farm ice cream is from a dairy farm on Route 9 and was also an excellent choice, but for convenience you couldn’t beat DQ. This gentle ritual of our small beach town was certainly more to my taste than the rumor mill that had our clients’ dogs emigrating to Canada. A light wind swirled the sugary sand around the asphalt, making and unmaking one design after another. If I caught the eye of anyone in a car, I waved. I introduced Anthea to three couples sitting on the white, wooden benches where the parking lot met the beach.
“Want to walk a little?” I asked.
“Brilliant!” she said.
I pulled off my sandals. “Uh-oh.” I had forgotten that she was wearing pantyhose and heels. I pointed to the Beach Patrol office. “There’s a restroom in there if you want to change.”
“No worries.” It was obvious she had no intention of removing her shoes. She began walking and I scrambled to catch up.
“Where are the waves I’ve heard so much about?” she asked.
“Lewes Beach is on the bay. Our town is at the mouth of the Delaware Bay.” Then I pointed east to the series of low, rock walls extending out from the shore and the two lighthouses. “That’s our breakwater. On the other side is the Atlantic Ocean where the waves are. The breakwaters reduce the intensity of the waves and provide safe harbor.”
“Safe harbor,” she repeated. I wondered if they used a different term in England.
We walked down the shoreline, and I introduced her to other beach walkers. She made conversation comparing US beaches to those in England. Suddenly she gasped. “Look!” she yelled and pointed to the western sky. “We almost missed the sunset.”
Chapter 3
Gilligan’s Waterfront Restaurant overlooked the Lewes-Rehoboth Canal that cut through downtown Lewes. Before its major renovation it looked like a boat used as a bar, with a restaurant that had seemingly sprouted from it.
Wayne was at the bar when we walked in, wearing jeans and a mostly yellow Hawaiian shirt. He smiled and held up a beer mug. I was hoping I hadn’t started anything I had no interest in pursuing. Surely, he knew if I wanted to date him, I would have by now. He was surrounded by a couple I knew from
the Lighthouse Foundation Board and a couple I knew from surfing. If you can call what we do at Cape Henlopen surfing. Mostly we sit on our boards, joking around and talking about nothing. This was the town that had welcomed me back after my years of roaming.
“You’re about as far out of uniform as you can get.” I pointed at Wayne’s flip-flops and laughed. He laughed back. “I thought you’d be working overtime.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “For now, the case is being handled by the city police. Lucky for us, it happened on the street instead of at the ferry terminal.” That unapologetic lack of ambition was part of his charm.
“Let me introduce Lady Anthea Fitzwalter.”
Wayne transferred his beer to his left hand, dried his right on his jeans, and then held it out to her. She smiled and then pumped it up and down with such vigor that his beer sloshed. Obviously this was all unfamiliar to her, but she was making a when-in-Rome effort. Considering she was only here for a week, then she’d be gone, I appreciated it. Next I introduced Barb and Red Moulinier from the Lighthouse Foundation, and the surfers, Jerry and his wife, Charlie. All four put their drinks on the bar before submitting to Anthea’s athletic grip.
Wayne turned to talk to Jerry and Charlie about the repair work being done on the Harbor of Refuge Lighthouse, and Barb and Red moved closer to me and Lady Anthea. Red tilted his head toward Wayne. “Why won’t you go out with him?”
“Yeah, what could possibly be wrong with him?” Barb ran her eyes up and down Wayne’s pretty darn close to perfect body and giggled.
“Easy, now,” her husband of forty years said.
“I know him too well,” I said.
Barb looked at Lady Anthea. “That’s a new one. There was the guy whose hands were too small. The guy that mispronounced potpourri. The guy who used air quotes.”