Never Con a Corgi (Leigh Koslow Mystery Series)

by Edie Claire

  Courtney paced with short steps, ignoring her. "They'll find the gun; he'll be detained..." She stopped abruptly. "I've got to get out of here!" Without another word to Diana, she turned away from the building and strutted off as fast as her towering heels would carry her.

  Diana watched her go, all confidence in her own brilliant plan suddenly flagging. She hadn't expected Bruce to do anything to Gil now, here in the building—satisfying as that image was. She figured the Chicagoan would just check him out, get the lay of the land; then take care of him later. Guys like Bruce didn't walk around free if they weren't also crafty.

  But she hadn't reckoned on Courtney's bothering to warn Gil about her pursuer, which was an oversight. If Bruce strolled into the office on any pretext, he could be recognized. He could be questioned, even arrested if his gun wasn't legal. Worse yet, he'd lose any chance he might have had to make a good, clean hit and get out of town!

  Diana looked to the left and right. She looked at the entrance, at the windows. If security did approach Bruce, what would he do? She was certain she had stirred his bad-boy blood into a full-blown jealous rage. Would he keep his cool and talk his way out of it? Or would he lose it, reach under his jacket, draw his weapon...

  She let out a long, slow breath.

  What the hell had she started?

  Chapter 24

  "Go on, Chewie!" Leigh urged, waving her arms. "Go and frolic. Be free!"

  The dog gave a little skip, looked up at her happily, panted, and circled her ankles. Then he circled Allison's. Then Bess's.

  Then he sat on Maura's foot.

  Leigh sighed. "Your lead is off, Chewie. Go play!"

  The dog jumped off Maura's foot, came closer, and stared at Leigh expectantly.

  "He thinks you're going to feed him," Allison commented.

  "He always hopes I'm going to feed him," Leigh agreed. "He also knows darn well it isn't dinner time."

  Bess chuckled. "Ah well, hope springs eternal."

  "Poor Chewie," Allison crooned. The dog immediately switched allegiance and thrust his wet nose against her skinny calf. "He has no idea what we want."

  "Hmmm," Bess murmured. "I might have something to help with that." She ambled off toward the back of her house, while the others stood waiting in the back yard. Bess's entire tribe of cats seemed to have gathered along the window ledge of the screened porch to watch them, and the felines were in such near-perfect formation they looked like targets in an arcade game.

  Chewie continued staring up at Allison, ignoring the tempting cats completely. He would chase anything that ran from him, as a rule, but he hadn't come within four feet of a cat since his first—and last—encounter with Mao Tse.

  "This might spark his memory!" Bess announced, rejoining them with something in her closed hand. Chewie's ears perked immediately. "Take a good whiff, boy!" she urged, holding out the fist. "Now, go get it!" She feigned making a long throw out toward the direction of the pond.

  Chewie licked his lips and sat down.

  "Go find it!" Bess urged again.

  Chewie lay down completely.

  Allison giggled. "He knows it's still in your hand, Aunt Bess."

  "Well, hell's bells," Bess said with annoyance, opening her hand to show the rest of them the soup bone. "I can't very well give it to him now—he'll be busy for an hour."

  "He's not allowed to have bones anyway," Leigh stated.

  Bess sighed and walked to her trash can, nearly tripping over the corgi as he dogged her every step. She opened the lid and threw the bone inside. Chewie promptly sat down by the can and proceeded to stare at it.

  "Well, this is going nowhere fast," Maura commented with good humor. "An old, dry bone he found a day ago wouldn't seem to be much competition. I think I'll just have a walk around myself."

  "Not on my land, you won't!"

  The women turned to see Clem, trusty shotgun dangling at his side, approaching them with long, determined strides. In his wake scuttled Anna, who was taking shorter and considerably more numerous strides as she struggled to keep up with him.

  "I knowed that copper's car!" the old man fumed.

  "Oh, knock that nonsense off!" Bess scolded. "You're on my land now, you idiot, and you know perfectly well my note said that Detective Polanski was coming. Now behave yourself before I take that fool shotgun away myself!"

  "No need," Anna said sharply, swooping in from behind to twist the gun out of Clem's hand. The man scowled at her, but did not resist as Anna tucked the shotgun securely beneath her own bony arm. "Don't worry, ladies," she said with a sigh. "It's all for show, you know."

  Clem stamped his foot. "What's all this about?" he demanded. "Who needs to talk to me?"

  "It's about those old gravestones at your place," Bess explained.

  Clem looked blank.

  "You mean the Crider family's?" Anna asked, stepping forward.

  "I couldn't remember the name," Bess answered. "The ones on Clem's back acre, over the hill."

  Anna nodded. "Those are the Crider's. Although I'm not sure the names are readable anymore. That was before my grandfather's time, even. Story goes they were tenant farmers who died of diphtheria. What about them?"

  "Maybe nothing, Ms. Krull," Maura spoke up.

  "It ain't illegal to have folks buried on your property when they died a hundred and umpteen years ago, is it?" Clem fired at the detective.

  "No," Maura answered, "as long as those graves are respectfully treated. That's why we're here. We want to make sure that they haven't been vandalized."

  "Has something else happened?" Anna asked. She cast a disapproving glance at Bess. "Have there been more young hooligans hanging about?"

  Bess's lips twisted. "Sadly, no," she replied. "I've been disappointed about that."

  "This is my land we're talking about!" Clem spouted off. He turned to Maura. "If you coppers know somebody's been trespassing, I want to hear about it right now!"

  "We don't know," Maura replied. "That's why we want to take a look. Would you mind?"

  Clem puffed out his narrow chest. "Ain't nobody going on my Daddy's land just to—"

  His words broke off with a grunt as Anna shot out her free arm and thwacked him across the chest. "Oh, get over yourself, you old fart! It was my Daddy's land before it was your Daddy's land, and don't you ever forget it!" She turned to Maura. "Of course you can take a look. It's just a few minutes' walk this way. Come on. I'll show you."

  Leigh struggled to contain a grin. Her Aunt Bess was right. Clem and Anna did bicker like an old married couple.

  Anna started walking, and Clem, Maura, and Bess headed out after her. Leigh, who had been keeping a close eye on her daughter throughout Clem's display of machismo, was relieved to note that Allison had not been frightened. If anything, she was amused. "Should we bring Chewie with us, Mom?" the girl asked, nodding her head in the direction of Bess's driveway.

  Leigh looked over at her valiant watchdog. He was doing the same thing he'd been doing the entire time the four women were being assaulted by a stranger brandishing a shotgun. He was sitting and staring at the trash can.

  She sighed. "Dinner is at six," she reminded him, clipping the lead to his collar and giving it a tug. "Get over it."

  There was little talking as the group followed Anna through the thick brush behind Clem's dilapidated dwelling. The ground was no longer soggy with mud, but neither was there any real trail to follow, so the going was slow. Clem hopped about nervously, placing himself between the women and even the slightest piece of property he saw in need of protection: his deer stand, a pile of bullet-pierced cans, an overgrown vegetable garden, the rusted shell of a long-dead lawn mower. When Maura came within a few feet of what looked like an abandoned outhouse, he literally cringed with angst.

  Leigh was grateful that the shotgun was no longer in his hands. She hung on to Chewie's lead herself, watching to see if anything in particular sparked the dog's interest. She knew he hadn't been on Clem's property yesterday... but
still. If stray dogs—or people—had raided the gravesites, other remains could be scattered anywhere. She suppressed a shudder. If she had her way, Allison wouldn't be with them at all, but she was hard pressed to think up a good reason why the ten year old couldn't investigate a centuries-old gravesite in broad daylight in the company of two relatives and a police detective. Leigh's smart-mouthed aunt had called her "Frances" twice this week—she'd be damned if she'd risk going for three.

  "It's not much farther," Anna called back finally. "Just on the other side of this rise." Leigh couldn't help but be embarrassed at how clumsily she herself moved through the brush relative to the three oldest travelers in the group. Allison was thin enough to slip through anything, but Leigh's childhood trail-blazing days were long behind her, and she knew her now-suburban self would have struggled even if Chewie hadn't been entangling her legs the entire way. When at last she caught up with the others, her only consolation was noting that it was not she, but city-girl Maura Polanski, who brought up the absolute rear. "Next time we'll rent mules," she quipped as the policewoman joined them.

  "Oh dear," Anna said with a sigh, kneeling down next to one of several odd-sized pieces of light-colored stone. "These markers are falling apart, aren't they?" She reached up and whacked Clem carelessly on the shin. "Why haven't you been keeping an eye on this place?"

  "It ain't my job, woman!" Clem fired back. "Ain't nobody paying me upkeep!"

  "Show a little respect!" Anna rebuked, as she gathered the pieces of stone and attempted to match them up like a puzzle. "This was one of the children, I think," she explained, laying the pieces down again close together. "But you can't read the writing anymore. Now this one..." She paused to brush away some weeds and debris from a stone lying flat on the ground. "This was the mother. You can barely see the writing on it. And there was one more..." she hunted in the brush nearby to unearth another, much smaller stone. "This was the baby. I remember that. Sad, isn't it? For them all to have died at once. But such things happened all the time, back then."

  They were all quiet for a moment. Then Bess, Leigh, and Allison bent down and began to assist Anna in pulling up more weeds around the stones. Leigh noted that the trees around them were relatively young; back then, this area had probably been a grassy knoll cleared for farming. Clem stood by awkwardly, his resentful gaze hovering over the gun that lay close to Anna's side. Maura walked the length of the plot slowly, her brow furrowed, stooping down here and there to examine the ground. Chewie had lain down in the leaves to rest his short legs. If anything, the dog looked bored.

  "Well, thank you both," Maura announced, giving a nod to Clem and Anna. I appreciate your showing us this. But other than being untended for a while, these graves do seem to be intact. No vandalism here."

  "What made you think they might have been vandalized?" Anna asked.

  Maura cleared her throat. "We haven't verified anything yet," she explained in her best detective voice, "but this dog picked up a bone fragment somewhere near Bess's house, and there's a chance it could be human remains."

  Clem and Anna paled. "Another murder?" Anna asked in a whisper. "Or do you mean that the man's body wasn't—"

  Maura held up a hand. "No, no. I assure you that Brandon Lyle's body was properly disposed of by the authorities. There's no reason to assume any tie between the two. The bone Chewie found was old; and it was only a fragment. We still aren't even sure it was human. But since if it was, the most likely source was an old gravesite, I thought we should check this one out. Are you aware of any other graves nearby? I mean, besides the church cemetery?"

  Clem remained standing silently with his mouth open. Anna shook her head slowly. "I never heard of any besides this one. From as far back as I know, people used the church."

  "Well," Maura said assuringly, "We'll figure it out. I don't expect any trouble, but just to be on the safe side, if you happen to see any people wandering around your property who shouldn't be here, I'd appreciate it if you'd give the police a call."

  Anna dipped her chin and looked at the ground; Clem shook himself and shut his mouth with a snap. Leigh suspected that green aliens could descend on their roofs and spit toxic slime before either one of them would call the police, and she suspected Maura knew that, too. But it never hurt to ask.

  "You getting off my land now?" Clem croaked.

  "Will do," Maura responded cheerfully. "We're done here."

  The group turned to head back, but Leigh startled as her peripheral vision caught Clem bending stealthily to make a reach for his shotgun. Before she could make a sound, however, Anna had nabbed it again. "Behave yourself, you old goat!" the woman hissed, getting to her feet.

  "I just want to hold it, you fork-tongued harpy," Clem muttered back.

  Leigh thought that she had been the only one to catch this little drama, but when she caught the hint of a grin on Allison's face, she knew otherwise. The child never missed a thing.

  The group parted ways with Anna and Clem behind his shack, and as they neared Bess's house again Allison approached her mother and Maura with an earnest expression. "Mom, couldn't we take Chewie on the trail to the pond now? I'm sure if we walked the same way you and Aunt Bess did, and let him off his lead there, he would go back to where he found the bone. He'll remember then, I know he will."

  Leigh bit her lip. Taking Chewie closer to where they had been when she first saw him with the bone was the obvious next step. She just didn't want to do it. "What do you think?" she asked Maura.

  The detective shrugged. "I wouldn't count on much help from the pooch," she replied. "But I don't see how it could hurt either, as long as you guys stay on the trail. I still need to have a look around myself, anyway."

  Leigh's jaws clenched. She didn't want Allison or any of the children anywhere near where she'd found Brandon Lyle's body, not even if there were a hundred police officers with them. She knew it was irrational, but she didn't care.

  "All right, then. But I think I should run Allison home first," she suggested brightly, trying not to notice as her daughter's eager, hopeful face dissolved into misery.

  "Over my dead body!" Bess piped up suddenly from ahead. Leigh hadn't thought her aunt was listening, but now the older woman turned, hands on hips, and glowered at her niece like a drill instructor. "Pardon my choice of words," she began, "but I do believe this child discovered the artifact, and alerted the authorities to it. Why on earth shouldn't she be allowed to try and figure out where it came from? This is practically an archeological expedition. It's educational, for crying out loud!"

  Leigh's cheeks reddened. "I just don't think, given everything that's happened—"

  "I'll be right here, Koslow," Maura added.

  "Don't make me say it," Bess threatened in a sing-song.

  "Then don't!" Leigh retorted, her whole face burning. She was beaten, and they both knew it.

  Bess extended a hand to Allison, and the two skipped ahead as Leigh swore under her breath.

  Not turning into her mother was proving a serious pain in the ass.

  Chapter 25

  Diana paced by the fountain. She fretted. She hated fretting.

  But what could she do? The building's hallways were riddled with security cameras, and she wasn't supposed to be there. She hadn't come so far just to get herself into trouble now.

  But she had to know what was happening!

  Inspiration struck. There was an upscale hair salon on the second floor. If by some fluke she were caught on camera, she could say she was inquiring about an appointment. In fact, she would inquire about an appointment. Mr. King-of-the-World March didn't control the whole building, did he?

  She put her feet in motion. She cleared the front doors and turned quickly toward the elevators, just in case the guard at the desk had been told to watch out for her. But oddly, there was no guard at the desk. Instead, the uniformed officer was standing in the center of the lobby, his phone to his ear.

  Within seconds, all turned to chaos. White lights flas
hed near the exits; security guards appeared from nowhere to guard them. People attempting to leave were detained. The elevator in front of Diana opened, and as soon as its large group of occupants disembarked, she slipped in behind them and hit the close button. With only an inch to go she heard a voice calling—no doubt to her. But it was faint enough she could claim she had missed it. "Ma'am! I'll have to ask you to stay here for the—"

  The elevator sped swiftly to the second floor. Diana disembarked, being careful to make steady progress toward the salon, even as she took in her surroundings. She passed by the emergency stairs, a box above which had begun to blink white, emitting an intermittent buzz. She heard footsteps pounding in the stairwell, men's voices yelling.

  She stopped. Anyone would be curious, wouldn't they? She leaned in to peer through the narrow window. The solid back of a uniformed security guard flew by her field of vision and went stomping off down the stairs. "Stop him!" the man bellowed.

  Diana popped open the door. She stuck her head in the stairwell. She could hear feet pounding furiously, but she could see nothing. Wrenching the shoe off one foot, she stepped inside, wedged the door open with her heel, and crept out to peer over the railing.

  It happened in a flash. Bruce was flying down the stairs like a madman with the security guard hot in pursuit. He had a good lead, but Diana could see that another guard was waiting below to block him at the street level exit.

  Don't interfere, Diana! Her rational brain ordered, treating her to the image of grainy black and white video being played to a testy jury in the county courthouse down the street. And now, ladies and gentleman, you can clearly see the defendant render the guard unconscious by bashing him over the head with her cellular phone...

  As it happened, there was no time for her to act. Nor any need.

  With the momentum of a freight train, Bruce parlayed his arrival on the ground floor landing into a full body blow that smashed the seemingly unprepared guard back into—and from the sounds of it, entirely through—the fire exit. Whether the guard had ever managed to draw a weapon, Diana couldn't see. She knew only that for a moment sunlight had spilled freely onto the landing, that guard number one had somehow stumbled over guard number two, and that Bruce was out the door and gone before either of the incompetents could get back to their feet again.