“Many rescue houses,” Jackson nods. “He’s an animal lover.” Unlike his daughter. “But Siena wasn’t going to take just any position there. She wasn’t one to be bossed around. She liked to do the bossing.”
“I bet that didn’t sit too well with the longtime employees.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Just Lucy. But, now that Siena is gone, I heard she and Winnie are sharing the responsibilities.”
“That’s great. Hey? You don’t think Lucy was the one that pushed Siena, do you? I mean, I can see where a person might feel slighted by something like that. Things could get heated.”
He blinks back as if a third hand just sprouted from my chest. “No way. Not only is Lucy incapable of an argument, let alone a violent act like that, but she was talking to the crowd in the ballroom at the time of the accident.” It was no accident. Siena was murdered, but I’m not interested in whispering that word, not today, not ever.
“She had the mic?” My mind drifts back to that night. She could have been. I left the room. Wait a minute. “Were you in the room?” I happen to know he was seen heading upstairs with Siena. My God, I could be looking in the face of the killer.
“I was.” His shoulders sag. “The hard truth is, I had just finished speaking with Siena.” His jaw tenses. “I wanted to speak with her about something that was weighing heavily on me and she didn’t want to hear it. She was trying to get away from me and I followed her upstairs.” A vacant look takes over his eyes. “She said we’d talk about it later. She was getting heated and so was I. So I went downstairs and back to the ballroom. Not five minutes later, I heard screams coming from the foyer.”
My screams intermingled with Camila’s.
He takes a quick breath. “I’d better take a seat.” He speeds off just as Molly breezes into the room in a gorgeous silver gown and matching metallic kitten heels. Her hair looks heavily shellacked into place and her lips are a frosty shade of pink.
“Bizzy!” She offers me a quick embrace. “Everything looks fabulous! I just know every one of those sweet souls is going to get adopted today.” She blows me an air kiss as she waltzes deeper into the room. “I’ll catch up with you later!”
She’s cheery. I can’t blame her. Someone should be.
I’m about to turn to leave when I spot Winnie and a few of the employees from the rescue house walking the floor, encouraging the guests to purchase additional raffle tickets. They’re raffling away a basket the size of a washing machine, brimming with everything you would ever need or want for a dog. There’s a plush bed, toys, premium kibble, a library of books on all things canine, and a coupon for an entire custom wardrobe handmade by Lucy.
I head on over and Winnie Capris does a double take this way.
“Bizzy!” Her face brightens in an instant. “Can you believe the turnout?” Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and she has an overall youthful look about her. Grady couldn’t stop talking about her all morning. They really do make a cute couple—that is, if she’s not a killer.
“It’s a great turnout for a great cause. I bet the rescue house really needs the funds, too. I can’t imagine how much it would take to make ends meet at a place like that. But then, Mr. Thompson can probably float it if he had to. I mean, he owns all those casinos.” Like the one siphoning money directly to your bank account.
She takes a quick breath. “Right.” Her forehead wrinkles. “Actually, that’s not right. The rescue houses are strictly self-reliant—running off donations from events like these.” Her cheery demeanor shifts to something darker.
“That’s a lot of pressure to keep the fundraisers going, I guess. Unless, of course, you have a few large donors. Do you have any regular donors you can count on to keep the lights on?”
Her face darkens a shade. Siena is lucky she isn’t here. If she were, I’d find a way to kill her myself. All that money—all in my name. Siena was a first-class swindler. And to think it was her own father she was swindling.
Winnie takes a breath. “Excuse me, Bizzy. I think I need some water before the show starts up.”
And just like that, the lights blink on and off and everyone hurries to their seats. I spot Molly and Harry by the partition we erected near the front of the room that acts as a dressing area for the dogs. There’s a doorway next to them that leads to a hall that bisects to both the lobby and the parking lot. Loud rock music begins to blare throughout the speakers before turning down just a notch and Mayor Woods steps out onto the stage.
Mackenzie welcomes everyone to the fashion show before introducing Winnie and Lucy to the crowd. Soon enough, the lights dim and a spotlight falls over the long runway as one of the volunteers walks both Sherlock and Pickles across it, with Sherlock in his suave miniature tuxedo and Pickles dressed as a reindeer. The entire room belts out a riotous laugh, and shortly thereafter a choir of oohs and ahhs breaks out. They’re both so dapper and proud, tears come to my eyes.
I give a quick glance to the entrance. Jasper is going to kick himself for missing this. I bet he’s on his way. I’ll make sure Sherlock stays in his tuxedo until Jasper arrives. And before either Sherlock or Fish takes off their costumes, I want a family picture of the four of us.
My fingers float to my lips.
Did I just say family picture?
My heart warms at the thought. Jasper and Sherlock feel every bit like family. In all honesty, I don’t know what else I would call us. We’re family. Jasper and I are family. My heart thumps just thinking about it.
I’m about to search out a seat near the back when I spot Mariah by the refreshment table. On second thought, a cup of hot coffee and a quick interrogation sound exactly like what I need. My feet carry me over quickly and I pour myself a cup of coffee before butting my arm against hers.
“Oh, Mariah!” I say just a notch above the boisterous noise from the crowd. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there. Enjoying the show?”
Her blonde mane is teased in all directions, and with the stage lighting it gives her a sort of halo effect.
“Why yes, I am.” Her fingers float to a ruby necklace glittering against her chest. It’s comprised of a series of large chunky stones ensconced in silver and looks stunning juxtaposed against her pale skin. “Are you?”
“Who couldn’t with all those sweet pups?” A thought comes to me. “But a fundraiser?” I roll my eyes as if I meant it. “Everyone knows Murphy Thompson is funneling enough funds into his rescue houses to afford gold water bowls for each of those pooches.”
Mariah gags on a river of words. “Murphy?” she huffs at the thought. “Trust me. That man has an appreciation for a furry beast or two, but he’s not one to part with his money lightly.”
“Oh?” I tip my head her way. “I guess it all went to Siena then. Rumor has it, she was the epitome of a trust fund princess.”
Now it’s Mariah’s turn to roll her eyes. “Maybe in the beginning. But let’s just say she messed with the wrong people.” She gives a sly wink. If I could relive any day, it would be the one where Murphy tells his spoiled little brat that she was getting cut off.
“What do you mean? Was she threatened because of her trust fund?”
She makes a face. “No, no, nothing like that.” She leans in. “Actually, well, it’s a long story, but let’s just say Murphy was seeing one of her close friends and she flipped out. She demanded that Murphy break it off with that woman even though they were madly in love. And being the father that would give his daughter whatever she wished for, he complied.”
That woman was Mariah, of course. But I’m not about to let her know that I’m on to her.
“Maybe Murphy wasn’t really into that woman.” I offer an innocent shrug and her face turns ten shades of pomegranate.
“Oh, he was into her, all right. But he couldn’t stand the pain it was causing his poor whiny baby. Anyway, the woman finally got her revenge. She warned Murphy that if he kept giving Siena whatever the girl demanded, he would be creating a monster. And he saw the lig
ht. He took that trust fund of hers down a notch, and the rest as they say is rescue house history.” She gives a sly wink.
“But Siena wasn’t really happy at the rescue house, was she? I mean, she was used to a lavish lifestyle. I’m sure she would have done anything to infuse her bank account again.” And then it hits me like a ton of one hundred dollar bill bricks.
Oh my God.
I glance up at the stage where Winnie announces the next dog to walk the runway.
“She was using Winnie,” I say mostly to myself as I shake my head in disbelief.
Mariah leans in. “What did you say?”
Our eyes connect, and in an instant she blinks back.
She knows? Who would tell her? I bet it was Jackson—or Harry. Neither of those two can keep their mouths shut. That white knight syndrome they keep exuding is getting old. But they couldn’t save Winnie, unless, of course, they thought pushing Siena over the side of the railing would have sufficed. But it didn’t. Siena set Winnie up like a pro.
My chest pumps with a dull laugh. “Siena framed Winnie. The casino was donating money to the rescue house in large chunks and she siphoned it into an account with Winnie’s name because she knew her father wouldn’t want her to have it. But why Winnie?”
Because she’s not Siena. Mariah scoffs my way. “I don’t know who’s filling your head with all of those”—I’d like to call them lies, but heck, we both know they’re the truth—“stories, but if I were you, I’d stay out of it. Both Jackson and Harry are helping Winnie untangle herself from that nightmare. It’s not exactly an account she has any control over despite the fact her name is attached to some of the paperwork. She’s just a decoy—a clever way for Siena to stop anyone from reporting her to Murphy. And if they did? Siena was going to arrange it so Winnie had a lot of explaining to do to the IRS, the sheriff’s department, and Murphy himself. I think Siena had the money diverted to Switzerland, or was it Norway? I don’t know and don’t care. And if you’re smart, you won’t either.”
“Wait.” I lift a finger in the air, lost in thought. “Let me get this straight. Siena had Winnie play the front man, so if her father ever found out she could deny she was taking the money herself. Instead, she could point the finger at Winnie and have her put away for a very long time. That not only ensured Winnie wouldn’t tell, but Siena kept her hands somewhat clean in the process. Boy, she was as dirty as they came.” I shake my head at how horrible Siena was to poor Winnie. “Do you think Winnie killed her?” I look to Mariah and her expression darkens.
“Winnie couldn’t kill a trail of ants trying to climb up her pants.”
“But Siena was pushed. I doubt her accident was thought out at all. Whoever did it was furious, and Winnie certainly had every right to be angry. She was being blackmailed into keeping up the financial farce. Siena could have made Winnie’s world very dark at any moment. I’m sure there’s a hefty prison sentence for embezzlement,” I say, taking a step forward as I observe Winnie laughing into the mic as she announces another pair of dogs dressed like little girls in sparkling pink tutus. “But what about the casino?” I turn to Mariah and she shakes her head as she backs away slowly.
“I’m not digging into this festering wound. Sorry, Bizzy. You’re barking up the wrong tree for answers.”
“Wait a minute… Do you think Murphy was donating ten thousand a month to the rescue house as a means to usurp your silly plea to kick Siena’s trust fund from beneath her?”
The lights take on a blue hue, giving Marian’s flesh a sickly glow.
Her face contorts with a look of horror.
How the hell does she know it was me who told Murphy to axe Siena’s trust fund in half? She shakes her head in disbelief as her eyes continue to widen.
“It wasn’t Murphy.” She waves it off. Who the heck cares if she knows I was having an affair with the man? He’s the love of my life. Everyone should know it. It’s not like Siena can keep us apart any longer. In fact, after this pet parade is over, I think I’ll give him a call and see if we can rekindle the flame. And boy, was it hotter than an inferno.
Her mind buzzes with something akin to white noise, a common occurrence when thoughts get heated in a sexual way. Sort of a shut-off valve as far as hearing their inner musings goes. And considering the nature of those racy thoughts, I’m glad about it. too.
“It wasn’t Murphy?” I wince over at her. “How can you be so sure?”
“Murphy doesn’t play psychological games. He’s straightforward. And funneling funds into the rescue in hopes his daughter would steal them isn’t exactly straightforward. Besides, he agreed with me. He thought she was a brat himself.”
“Then who funneled the funds?”
A dark laugh brews in her chest. Oh, I’m not talking. Wild convict-driven horses couldn’t shake it out of me.
“Mariah, if you know who was sending those funds to the rescue house, you’ll tell me now.”
A wry smile breaks out on her face. “Or you’ll what?”
“Or I’ll spill everything I know about your gentleman friend in the tan suit. He is why you’re wearing those stunning jewels around your neck, isn’t he?”
Her hand slaps against the glittering stones protectively as she jumps back with a look of sheer terror.
“Who are you?” she cries, the color bleaching from her completely. My God, it’s like she knows everything.
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t know everything.” I don’t mind one bit answering her thoughts. Something draws my eyes toward the north exit just shy of the makeshift stage, and I see him. “Harry Dillinger,” I say, breathless. “Oh, wow. Was he doing it? He has access to the casino. He’s the head of security. He could have breached any data he wanted.” I close my eyes a moment and let it sink in.
But why comply? Siena must have blackmailed him, too.
“Nice work, Bizzy.” Mariah gives a quick wink. Let her think it’s Harry. That’ll teach him for calling me a has-been, gold-digging witch.
She takes off for her seat before I can process this madness any further.
Mariah doesn’t think it was Harry.
But if it wasn’t Harry, who could it be?
I glance back to the north exit and my thoughts stop cold.
I think I have my answer, and perhaps the killer, too.
Chapter 18
Bizzy Baker. Sherlock barks as he charges after me in his makeshift tuxedo and that tiny corsage pinned to his lapel. You owe me an apology. But if you’re not in the mood to clamor for my forgiveness, I’ll accept a pound of bacon and we’ll call it a day.
I stop shy of my true destination.
“A pound of bacon? Did Georgie put that idea in your head?” I’m pretty sure someone had to let him know about the imperial system of measurements and I’m betting that someone is running around in a doggie printed kaftan.
Fish bounds by and jumps onto Sherlock’s back as if she were mounting a racehorse. She digs her claws into that fancy suit of his and he takes off like the thoroughbred she’s pretending he is. It’s such a funny sight, I’m half-tempted to abandon the effort of tracking down Siena’s killer just to take a picture. But I don’t have to. I spot Georgie laughing and running with her phone pointed in their direction. And suddenly, I feel much better about abandoning that effort.
A bout of laughter erupts from my left and I turn to find Molly watching Sherlock zip around the room while Fish hangs on for dear life.
“You really have your hands full, Bizzy.” She takes a sip from her coffee.
“That I do.” My heart thumps wildly as I try to segue into my suspicions somehow. “Molly, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Me?” She points to herself with a touch of surprise. “If this is about Macy trying to break into high stakes poker, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’ve got my own sibling to worry about.” She bubbles with a laugh while raising her cup as if she were toasting me.
“No, actually, I wanted to ask about corporate donat
ions—like to the rescue house. Do you know anything about those?”
She winces. “No, not really. Does the inn want to make a donation? I know the rescue can use it.”
“Yes, actually. But I thought I overheard Jackson saying that the casino made large, regular donations to the tune of ten thousand dollars a month?”
Her lips part as she struggles to say something.
That little snitch. How could he be so reckless? My God, is he drinking? And to think he said he would help me. I actually believed him.
“I have to go.” She staggers a moment before passing a dolled-up poodle in a hot pink tutu as she bullets out the side exit.
“Wait,” I call out as I catch up to her in the service hall. “Molly, why did you do it?” I study her features. “Why help Siena steal from her father?”
A hard groan comes from her as tears fill her eyes. “He sold the farm, didn’t he? And who else was he talking to?” Her voice hikes up an octave. “Never mind, Bizzy. I need to go.” She runs down the hall and I follow her out into the icy air. A storm just swept by and the asphalt is still slick from its passing.
“Molly, why did Winnie agree to take the money?” I pant as I follow her to the edge of the inn.
She turns my way with the look of utter despair in her eyes.
“She did it for the same reason I did. Greed.” She gives a long blink. “But unlike Siena, we wanted out.”
So she was giving them some of the take.
“But it was too late. She had you both over a prison-shaped barrel, didn’t she?”
Molly’s chest bucks as if her body were answering for her.
“I tried to talk her out of it a million times.” She scans the vicinity. “I have to go.” She darts across the lot, toward the woods where the overflow parking is, and I follow along.
A mewl comes from behind and I spot my favorite gray cat, Griffin, speeding this way.
Bizzy! Bizzy, come quick. Sherlock chased Fish up the curtains, and now she’s stuck on a railing at the top. They’re thinking of calling the fire department. It’s a mess.
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