Death by a Whisker

by T. C. LoTempio

  I’m convinced Ms. X, whom everyone thinks of as Little Miss Goody Two Shoes, isn’t so goody at all. She never talks about her past at all, which makes me wonder just what she has to hide. After all, everyone has secrets. She’s all light and sweetness when the cameras are rolling, but when they’re off? At times it seems as if she holds some sort of grudge against me. I chalk it all up to jealousy. Believe me, Ms. X isn’t above using any means possible to get what she wants, and what she wants is my job. She’s always around; it’s like she’s stalking me, just waiting for her chance to move in on my territory.

  I flipped a few more pages and found a reference to a girl I was positive was Savannah:

  Every good personality needs a good admin, and I’m not without exception. I’ve gone through many, as some people have hinted I’m difficult to work for (???), but one does stand head and shoulders above the rest. She always seems to be able to anticipate my every need, so much so, it’s as if we’ve known each other in another life. She knows all my faults and, unlike many of my coworkers, understands them.

  It sounded like high praise, coming from Ulla. I couldn’t help but think of that old adage: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Was that what she was doing with Savannah?

  I perused the remainder of the section. There were a few more veiled references to a man I was pretty certain was Ken Colgate and a brief reference to a “mealy-mouthed producer” that I had an idea was Wendy. When the juicy tidbits ended, I flipped back to the first chapter, entitled “Growing Up,” and skimmed through it. Ulla mentioned her parents, her roots, growing up with her brother, typical sibling skirmishes. The second chapter and the third dealt with other, typical family issues, honing in on the fact that her parents, especially her mother, took every opportunity to put Ulla down while bolstering up her brother. Chapters Four and Five touched on her interpersonal relationships in grammar school, most of which were fraught with angst. She developed a tough skin, which she would need in the years ahead. I started Chapter Six, “Deer Park Darlings,” with interest, as Ulla described attending high school and always feeling like an outcast. Her feelings of insecurity and jealousy grew to such epic proportions that when her senior year rolled around, she rebelled and decided to do something about it.

  Chapter Seven, however, was where I hit pay dirt. Entitled “Little Town Blues,” she went into even more detail. One paragraph was particularly insightful:

  One thing I regret deeply was my inability to make long-lasting friendships during my school years. Unfortunately, most of the relationships I formed weren’t exactly friendly. There was the girl whose Coke I put itching powder in, another whose sixteenth birthday party I sabotaged, and yet another girl who suffered a tragic breakdown I was blamed for instigating. If I had to do it all over again, I would probably have tried to let go of my anger. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Now I have to pick up the pieces and move on.

  I shut the book and drummed my fingers on the cover. It certainly sounded as if Ulla had indeed turned over a new leaf, felt sincere regret over the way she’d treated people in the past. Ulla had come here seeking forgiveness, but what if this person, this Miggs, hadn’t been so inclined? I wondered if Miggs might be the person named here, the one who suffered the breakdown Ulla said she was blamed for. I frowned. I needed more details, but how to get them? I could only think of two sources: Ulla and Maggie. One was dead, the other … MIA.

  I set the book aside and dug my laptop out of my tote. Firing it up, I typed in “Deer Park High, Deer Park, North Carolina” and the year of Ulla’s graduating class. A list of alumni popped up, and I clicked on it. There were two hundred students, and I went through the list carefully.

  Ulla’s name wasn’t there. There was a Jerry Townsend, but no Ulla in any way, shape, or form. I frowned and went to the white pages site. I punched in Rhonda’s name, and a few minutes later I had her on my cell phone. “Hello, Syd,” she said, and I could hear the surprise in her voice at my calling her so soon after my visit.

  “Hello, Rhonda. I just had a quick question. That photo you showed me. Was it taken their senior year?”

  “Why, I’m not sure. Hold on a sec.” I heard the clunk as she set the phone down, and then rustling in the background. She came back on the line a few minutes later. “Yep. October of Senior year.”

  “Interesting. I just pulled up the alumni list from their graduation year, and Ulla Townsend’s name isn’t on it.”

  A soft chuckle. “That’s because her name was Beckman back then.”

  Duh! I slapped my forehead with my palm. “That’s right! Now I remember Grace mentioned that.”

  “Don’t feel too bad. You wouldn’t have found her there anyway. She didn’t graduate Deer Park High. Her folks moved to Weddington halfway through the school year.”

  “Oh?” That was curious. “Did her father get transferred for his job, or something?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Rhonda sounded decidedly uncomfortable. “I was two years behind them, you know, so I’m not privy to all the details. You’ll have to ask Maggie.”

  That was what I’d been afraid of. I thanked Rhonda and hung up, trying to ignore the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that was telling me Maggie might be more connected to what had happened to Ulla than anyone suspected. I eyed Toby, who was now sitting next to my chair, watching me hopefully.

  “Yes, of course I’m going to feed you,” I informed the cat. He wound himself in and around my ankles as I moved over to the cabinet to select a can of Fancy Feast Shredded Tuna. I spooned it into his bowl and then glanced at the clock. While he hunkered there slurping, I headed off to my room to shower and change for my dinner with Leila. When I emerged from the bathroom a half hour later, I found Toby sprawled across my comforter, washing his face.

  “Have a nice meal?” I asked, shedding my robe. I pulled on underwear and then fussed in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear. When I pulled out a pair of dressy boot-cut jeans and a checkered shirt, Toby sat up and let out a loud yowl.

  “Hmm, maybe you’re right. After all, this is an upscale place. That outfit’s probably too casual.”

  My furry fashion advisor raised a paw in the air. “Merow.”

  I pulled out a navy and red–checked, mock turtleneck tunic with matching wide-legged navy pants. Toby gave his head a quick shake. “Ow-orr.”

  “Geez, Toby. Have you been reading Glamour when I’m not around? This outfit is nice, isn’t it?”

  Toby stretched full length out on the bed and covered his eyes with his paw.

  I put back the tunic and slacks and rummaged around some more. When I pulled out a pair of black slim-leg pants and a black wrap top with a sweetheart neckline, Toby sat up on the bed and gave a loud yowl of approval. “About time!” I said, throwing up both hands in the air. I changed quickly, then slid into black strappy sandals with a modest two-inch heel. The dressing portion of the program complete, I sat in front of my vanity mirror and brushed my hair until it shone. I pulled it back into a sleek ponytail and added black hoop earrings and a gold locket. A final spritz of Chanel No. 5, and—voila!—I was done. Toby gave me another merow of approval as I gave myself a final once-over in my full-length mirror.

  “Not bad, right? Maybe I should consult you on what to wear all the time.”

  “Ow-orr,” he replied, then stretched out full-length on the bed and promptly closed his eyes. I figured being a kitty fashion consultant must be very tiring. My phone jangled, and I scrambled for it, hoping for Maggie’s name to pop up, but it was Leila’s name I saw onscreen.

  “What’s up?” I asked after pressing the talk button. “Don’t tell me you’re canceling?”

  “Not at all. I’m just running a tad late, so let’s make it six thirty instead of six.” Her voice crackled with excitement. “I found out some interesting tidbits that may or may not help you,” she said. “You’ll have to decide that.”

  “Ooh, the suspense is killing me. See you soon.” I hun
g up and then consulted my watch. “I could go and check out the bar,” I said to Toby. “It’s supposed to be very nice, and a ‘hotspot’ for singles—not that I’m looking. But it’s very close to the Deer Park Inn, where Ulla’s troupe is supposed to be staying. You never know who I might run into, right?”

  “Merow,” said Toby. Then he closed both eyes, curled his furry body into a ball, and started snoring.

  Chapter Twelve

  Antonio’s was located at the far end of Deer Park, about a fifteen-minute ride from Leila’s house. I pulled into the crowded parking lot at six-fifteen and was thankful to find one spot left, to the left of the large dumpster. I locked the car and pulled my light tan, cashmere jacket around my shoulders. It was a seasonable evening considering it was late summer, but there was a light breeze that brought a hint of a welcome chill in the air, a hopeful sign that fall—my favorite season—wasn’t too far away. I stepped into the dimly lit vestibule and paused before the full-length mirror there for a final inspection. The wind had mussed my hair a bit; too bad I didn’t have that can of hairspray that Vi kept stashed in the desk in the storage room back at the shelter. It would have come in handy now. I fiddled with my curls for a minute, then after deciding that was as good as it was going to get, took a moment to look around. There was a podium directly in front of me, behind which stood a tall brunette in a wine-colored, cold-shoulder blouse and long, wine and black printed skirt. Off to the right was the main dining room, and over on the left was the bar area. I could hear raised voices; it sounded like everyone was having a good time.

  I checked in with the hostess at the podium, and since Leila hadn’t arrived yet, I decided to check out the bar. I slid onto one of the leather-covered stools and leaned my forearms against the polished dark counter. I was debating between going out of my comfort zone and ordering a sweet Riesling or sticking with my usual Merlot, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I spun around and found myself staring into the eyes of the man whom I’d spilled coffee on at the bookstore. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and I couldn’t help but notice how blue his eyes were.

  “Well, hello,” he said, “Sydney with a y. Fancy meeting you here.” He gave me his movie star, megawatt smile, showing off his white, perfect teeth.

  “Hello yourself.” I smiled back, and held up both hands. “As you can see, I’m not armed. With coffee or anything else, for that matter. At least, not yet.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve just realized we were never formally introduced. I did stop by Dayna’s café to rectify that matter, but you weren’t there.”

  I stared at him, frankly surprised that he’d gone to the trouble to try to look me up. “That’s because I don’t work there. I was just helping out. I’m the publicity director for the animal shelter. Sydney—”

  “McCall,” he finished, his smile widening. “I should have known.”

  “You’ve heard of the shelter?”

  “Yes—or rather, I’ve heard of you in particular. About your flair for detection.” His hand shot out and closed over mine, and I noted his grip was very firm. “I’m Douglas Harriman. All my friends call me Doug.”

  I smiled back. “Nice to meet you too, Doug. And I’m sure reports of my skill as a detective have been greatly exaggerated.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.” His eyes twinkled as he went on, “And now that’s out of the way, tell me: Are you meeting someone?”

  “Yes, I’m meeting a friend for dinner, but I’m a bit early.”

  He motioned toward the bar. “Might I buy you a drink while you’re waiting?”

  I paused, wondering if this qualified as being asked out and if I should tell Dayna she’d won the bet. “Sure—that is, if you trust me not to spill wine all over that nice suit you’re wearing.”

  He flashed that killer smile again. “No problem. I’ll order you white wine. That way if you spill it on me, it won’t be so noticeable.”

  We adjourned to the very crowded bar area. There was a vacant chair all the way over on the left side. He propelled me over and held out the stool for me. I slid onto it, and he stood just behind me, his hand resting lightly on the stool’s back. The bartender looked over, and Doug signaled him. “I’ll have a Bulleit neat. And the lady …” He paused and looked at me questioningly.

  “A Riesling. Sweet, please.” There was a bowl of peanuts on the bar. I pulled it in front of me, grabbed a fistful, and popped one into my mouth. “So, how about you? Are you meeting someone here too?”

  “Guilty. Mine is business, though, not pleasure.” He reached into the bowl for a fistful of nuts, popped one in his mouth and chewed it before he added, “So, tell me. Is the friend you’re meeting for dinner your boyfriend?”

  I almost choked on my nut. Doug certainly didn’t pull any punches! I coughed lightly to cover my confusion. Fortunately, the bartender set our drinks down just then. I grabbed my glass and took a swallow. “Unfortunately, no. I haven’t seen too much of him lately. He’s been putting in a lot of overtime.”

  The corners of Doug’s lips drooped downward. I wondered if he was disappointed over the fact that my boyfriend put in so much overtime, or just, in general, that I had a boyfriend. “Ah, so I take it he’s a hard-working corporate type?” he asked.

  “Hard-working, yes; corporate, no. Will is a detective.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Why am I not surprised? I imagine you’re a big help to him. It’s a demanding job.”

  “It is that, but Will prefers I stick to publicity and keep my detecting to a minimum.”

  He chuckled. “He’s probably trying to keep you safe. I heard you had a rather close call.”

  I took another sip of my Riesling. For a newbie in town, Doug certainly seemed to be very familiar with local gossip. “One might say that.”

  Doug’s gaze bored into mine. “Still … you’d think he’d appreciate the help, especially when it comes from one so charming. I do hope he appreciates you. Demanding job or not, he still should manage to take some time off. You know that old saying about too much work.”

  “I’ve heard it,” I said dryly. “I’m not sure Will has.”

  Doug laughed. “Has he heard this one? The early bird catches the worm? Or, perhaps in this case, the girl?”

  I felt heat sear my cheeks and I coughed lightly. “So, what brought you to Deer Park, Doug? A job? A woman?”

  He laughed. “Not a woman,” he said with finality. I felt an odd fluttering in my chest at those words. “Actually, I’m surprised you hadn’t heard. I—” He paused as his jacket pocket started to vibrate. He took out his iPhone, glanced at the screen, and held up a finger. “Excuse me, Sydney. I have to take this.” He motioned to the bartender as he moved away. “Put the lady’s drink on my tab.”

  Doug moved off and I sipped at my Riesling, letting my eyes rove over the bar. It was indeed crowded, mostly with girls dressed in sexy-looking dresses and guys in suits and ties. Had I been in the market for a boyfriend, this was definitely an upscale meeting place. I waited a few minutes more, and when Doug didn’t return, I downed the rest of the Riesling and slid off the stool. I started to move toward the vestibule, when I happened to glance over at the bank of small tables near the rear of the bar. A couple sitting at the corner table near the back entrance, partially shrouded in shadow, caught my attention. There was something familiar about them, so I moved closer. The back door opened, letting in two giggling girls dressed to the nines, and light spilled over the table, briefly affording me a better look. I recognized the man at once. Ken Colgate. The woman’s face was still in shadow. I was betting it was Savannah, so I let out an involuntary gasp as she leaned forward and I recognized Candy Carmichael. Their heads were bent close together and they looked like they were having a very earnest conversation. I couldn’t resist a chuckle. Colgate certainly got around! No wonder his wife felt the need to keep tabs on him.

  The couple seated at the table just off to Ken and Candy’s left scraped back their chairs and started to
thread their way out of the bar area. Without a moment’s hesitation, I wended my way over to the newly vacated table, elbowing two girls right out of my path. As I slid onto the chair, I stole a quick glance over my shoulder. Ken and Candy were completely absorbed in their conversation. I greatly doubted they’d noticed me. I shrugged out of my jacket, draped it across the back of my chair, and picked up the drink menu.

  A waitress sidled up to me, pad in hand, and after only a second’s hesitation I ordered another Riesling. “Would you tell the bartender this goes on Mr. Harriman’s tab?” I added sweetly. She moved off and I leaned back in my chair. I was less than two feet away from Ken and Savannah. Maybe, with a little luck, I could hear a bit of what they were discussing. I leaned back as far as I dared without toppling the chair—and me—over. I couldn’t hear whole sentences, but they were talking loud enough that I did manage to catch a word or a phrase here and there.

  “She knew some … not everything,” I heard Ken say.

  Candy let out a snort. “Don’t kid … knew plenty. Enough … lives miserable.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ken reach for Candy’s hand. “Don’t worry,” I heard him say. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  Their voices lowered, and it was darn near impossible to make out another word. They hadn’t mentioned any names; it was possible they were talking about Ulla. Then again, maybe not. Perhaps they were speaking about Ken’s wife. And what secret was Ken talking about? Something connected with Ulla? Or did it have to do with Candy herself? I glanced at my watch and noted it was almost six-thirty. I was just about to grab my jacket and head for the vestibule, when the waitress appeared with my Riesling. Never one to waste good alcohol, I lifted it to my lips and took a sip, but I almost dropped the glass as Ken’s voice rose slightly.