Dog-Gone Murder

by Marnette Falley

  “But before that, they sounded really intense,” Phoebe went on. “I couldn’t really hear what they were saying. But then I heard the woman say, “Don’t you threaten me!” And it was right after that that I heard the smack.”

  “But you’re sure he didn’t hit her?” Po asked.

  “Pretty sure,” Phoebe said. “But then I was really close. And I heard him say, ‘You’d better be more careful, or you’re going to have something more serious to worry about than the life of a dog. Like your own well-being.’ And then I scuttled, because I was thought they’d find me there.”

  “And a good thing, too,” Po reassured her. “You needed to get out of there. I would never forgive myself for putting you into danger.”

  “I’m not sure who the woman was,” Phoebe said. “I didn’t notice anyone else missing from the meeting, but there were at least 30 people there. I’m sure I’m not the only one who took a bathroom break along the way. But on the way in, I had noticed that there was a young guy taking care of the valet parking. At the time I was thinking all those gals were pretty spoiled if they couldn’t even park their own cars. Here’s the key, though.” Phoebe spoke with an intensity that Po could easily feel. “On the way out, the valet pulled up in a red Pontiac GTO. And Kate said that’s what Jack Francis drives. I kind of hung out, dropped my keys once and fumbled around and stuff trying to make sure, and he walked right out.”

  She looked at Po. “That sure makes it seem like it was him, right?”

  “It could have been,” Po agreed.

  “And he was threatening someone!” she insisted.

  “Well, it does seem like it,” Po said.

  “But you’re not completely sold,” Phoebe said with some apparent let down.

  “I don’t think we can lock him up and throw away the key,” Po said apologetically. “But it’s sure going to give me something to think about. On the downside, we don’t know who he was talking to. And they have a lot of dogs. Even if we can prove it was him, we can’t probably prove that he was talking about Fitzgerald.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Phoebe said. “I may be having delusions of grandeur. I dream about bringing you the fact that busts the case wide open and frees my dear friend Maggie from suspicion.”

  “You did a great job,” Po reassured her. “I appreciate your sacrifices for the investigation.”

  “I really was a bit frightened,” Phoebe admitted. “They sounded so serious. I really thought he might hurt her.”

  “And he might have,” Po agreed. “He might have.”

  “Here’s the last thing,” Phoebe said. “I’m not sure it’simportant, but I did ask around a little about the benefit for the humane society. I figured if Mercedes was running that, she’d be getting her golf-club cohorts involved somehow. And I was right, I guess. One of the women said she heard that Mercedes had booked the bed and breakfast with Adele for the event. And she said if she hadn’t already disappeared, Adele might have killed her. I asked what she meant, and all she’d say is that Mercedes had yanked Adele’s chain past the point of choking her.”

  Po and Phoebe knew Adele fairly well. She had commissioned eight quilts from the Queen Bees for her bed and breakfast. And during the project, the Bees had solved her brother’s murder. “It’s not that tough to yank Adele’s chain, if you remember,” Po said.

  “We came out on her good side,” Phoebe said with a shrug. “I guess clearing someone of murder and keeping the whole town from turning against her should have some small rewards.”

  “Do you know what she did to make Adele so mad?” Po asked.

  Phoebe laughed. “Can you imagine those two in a room?” she asked. “I imagine they were both fairly het up before it was over.”

  “No details?” asked Po again.

  “Oh, right,” Phoebe said. “Details. I think the main issue was about the menu and who would cater. I think Adele only works with certain caterers, and Mercedes demanded someone else.” She gave Po a mischievous smile. “It couldn’t have been pretty.”

  Phoebe looked at Po inquiringly. “Do you think someone like that who worked with Mercedes on a particular project could get mad enough to kidnap her. Or a groomer? Or a prospective puppy buyer? Or a former doggie foster parent? You know, I only met her a few times, but I can see how she might rub people the wrong way.”

  Po smiled. “She sure could be demanding. And I think anything’s a possibility right now. I’ll have to think about how all the pieces might fit.”

  “OK,” Phoebe said, gathering up her bag and phone and jacket. “I know you’re better qualified for thinking than I am,” she laughed. “It’s been literally years since I have had a moment to think. And it’s time to go collect my two little brain suckers.”

  She gave Po a quick hug.

  “I know you’ll figure out how to help Aaron and Maggie,” she said. “You’re our solution finder.”

  Po smiled at Phoebe, and as she watched her go, she felt a momentary twinge for those days when she was the center of her children’s universe. That was such a fulfilling time. She missed the smell of warm baby after bath, lanky grade-school-aged arms around her neck, and finding stray Barbie shoes everywhere.

  Then her mind returned instead to the goings on in Phoebe’s country club world and she felt instead cold fear. She must talk to Kate.

  She dialed her cell phone. No response. “That’s not really a surprise,” she told herself. “She’s probably in class.” Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Kate needed to be warned. “She just can’t go following Jack Francis around,” Po thought. “And she won’t give up easily. Still, short of going to track her down, there’s nothing I can do now,” Po thought. She left a message for Kate to call, and closed her phone.

  Stymied for the moment, she thought about what more she could do to gather information. If it wasn’t Aaron who killed Mercedes, “and that can’t be, I refuse to believe it,” she thought, “it could be Jarrod. It could be Jack Francis. It could be anyone,” she thought with despair. “What I need is more information!”

  With her mind whirling, she revisited all the paths she’d pursued so far. Where could she make progress? Learn more? And she dialed Eleanor.

  Gracious as always, Eleanor invited her to come by and offered her lunch when she arrived. Po hadn’t realized she was even hungry until she smelled the creamy tomato soup. But the rich, warm taste of it made her gratefully sigh as she took the first bite. “This is wonderful, Eleanor,” she said.

  “It’s one of my favorites,” Eleanor agreed. “It’s made with sun-dried tomatoes, so I can have it all winter if I want. Comfort food.”

  And indeed it was, particularly with a side of aged cheddar and crackers. The two friends settled in companionably to talk about what they’d learned in the last 24 hours.

  “Well, Mike was on the story, for sure, when I met with him last night,” Eleanor said. “There’s a piece in the paper today.” She got up and brought a copy of the local paper to Po, and then she sat quietly eating, and Po skimmed it.

  “No mention of Maggie’s clinic yet,” she said, looking slightly relieved.

  “It’s probably just a matter of time,” Eleanor said matter of factly. “He knew they’d searched the clinic yesterday.”

  “Mercedes is a pretty prominent in Crestwood,” Po acknowledged. “There was bound to be coverage of her disappearance.”

  “That’s the other thing,” Eleanor said. “They covered it in the article as a disappearance, but not as a homicide. The Police Department is trying to keep that bit quiet so the press coverage doesn’t interfere with their investigation.”

  “We can’t just sit around and wait for more bad press,” Po said. “Maggie is so stressed. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her like this. And poor Aaron. I’m not sure he realizes how serious this could be.”

  “I did ask Mike to let me know when they were printing any new developments,” Eleanor said. “He owes me a favor, so I think he will.”

&nbs
p; “Well, that’s good,” Po said. “At least we won’t be caught off-guard.”

  “And there’s one more thing,” Eleanor said. “He said that we should ask more questions about the car. But he wouldn’t say why.” She sniffed. “Those news reporters and their off-the-record hints. Ridiculous.”

  “Interesting,” Po said. “Maybe we can find out more.”

  “Hey,” Eleanor said. “Since I have you here. Come and look at my latest project.”

  The two went upstairs to Eleanor’s airy workroom. She had boxes of fabrics in clear plastic containers lining one set of bookshelves at the north end. On her worktable lay at least 100 half-inch strips of fabric, along with 15 or 20 ribbons.

  “I’m playing with stripes, clearly,” Eleanor said with a laugh.

  “I love it,” Po smiled. “Totally fun. I like the polka dots particularly well. How big are you thinking the finished piece will be?”

  “Not too big,” Eleanor said. “Maybe 14 inches wide and about 24 long. At least that’s what I’m playing with.” Po looked more closely at the strips that Eleanor had in place. “This diagonal black-and-white piece is really doing a lot for me,” she said.

  “Me, too,” Eleanor said. “It was when I laid that one down that I started to think I might be on the right track.” She looked at Po. “That’s one of my favorite parts of any project,” she said. “That moment when you feel the pieces start to become a whole.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” Po said. “And sometimes it seems like that moment takes a long time to come.”

  Eleanor laughed. “You guys sure challenged me with that cat square. I had to redo the ears on mine half a dozen times before I thought they worked.”

  “Really?” Po said. “Your cat was darling. I loved it.”

  Eleanor’s pieced cat square had featured a saucy looking, fluffy cat with a “just ate the canary” satisfaction about her.

  “I really do have a special spot in my heart for cats,” Eleanor said. “It has been years since I’ve had one of my own. But I love their independent spirit.”

  “That reminds me,” Po said. “I’ve been wondering what role, exactly, Mercedes was filling for the humane society benefit. We need to figure out if we should fill in for her on any duties.”

  “I’ll ask around,” Eleanor said, “and let you know what I learn.”

  “OK,” Po said. “I’ll do anything you need, of course.”

  Home at last, Po decided she was out of ideas and out of steam and she lay down for a nap. She used to nap every day, when her kids were young, and when she did, she was fond of quoting the benefits of napping to any and all who would listen. But she’d gotten out of the habit. Still, today a small recharging of her batteries seemed a must.

  She fell instantly asleep, that deep sleep that leaves you unsure of your surroundings, and she woke with a start to the sound of her phone ringing. “That’s what I get for getting out of practice,” she grumbled to herself as she fumbled around, trying to locate it. “I’m nap-whacky.”

  “Po?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Kate,” she said, sounding a little surprised at needing to identify herself.

  “Sorry, sweet,” Po said, sitting down on the arm of the sofa and trying to wrest her fuzzy brain back into focus. “I’m with you now.”

  “You left me a message to call?” Kate said.

  “Yes, I did,” Po said, and she recounted her conversation with Phoebe and her eventful afternoon at the Crestwood shops. “You must be more careful,” Po said. “I would never forgive myself if I let you put yourself in danger.”

  “I haven’t used up my nine lives yet,” Kate said. “And it sounds like you’ve been living more dangerously than I have by far.”

  “Really, Kate,” Po said.

  “I know, Po,” Kate said. “But I’ve been careful. Subtle, even, and you know that takes some effort on my part.”

  “So what have you been up to?” Po asked.

  “Well, first I went down to the hardware store,” Kate said. “I shopped for a new chain for my bike. You have to agree that’s plausible.”

  Po smiled. “Yes, OK. Moderately subtle.”

  “While I was there, I talked to the old guy that owns the store a bit. Asked if he’d been busy. Asked if he really kept live bait in that cooler with the fruit juices. He brought up Jarrod on his own, once we hit the topic of fishing.”

  “OK, that’s pretty good,” Po said. “You’re getting better at subtlety, I think.”

  “Damning with faint praise, I see,” Kate said. “Moving on, he did confirm that he saw Jarrod on the same day that Mercedes disappeared.”

  “I did tell you that,” Po pointed out.

  “I know, but still. It doesn’t hurt to do a little legwork. I just wanted to see if I could learn any more.”

  “And did you?” Po asked.

  “He said Jarrod was a regular. Angela is right—he goes fishing a lot,” Kate said. “That means that he probably doesn’t have an alibi for the time when Mercedes was killed.”

  “He could have been seen by another fisherman,” Po pointed out. “Or maybe coming back into town with a fish, or something.”

  “I’m just saying that he’s still in the running,” Kate said. “His story is not any better than Aaron’s, for sure.”

  “OK,” Po said. “Agreed. Did you learn anything else?”

  “I also wandered back by the dealership,” Kate said. “I told them that I had run into some unexpected expenses, so I wasn’t really in the market this second. But I had to come and dream a little. They seemed to buy that.”

  Po laughed. “I’m sure you were very convincing,” she said. “You always were. Especially when you wanted something.”

  “I wanted information,” Kate said. “And I did get a little. I eventually brought up Jack Francis causally. I said I’d seen the newspaper item, and how terrible it must be for him. The guy told me I shouldn’t feel that bad because Jack Francis would be rich when this was all over.”

  “Really?” Po said. “I wouldn’t have expected that.”

  “Me neither,” Kate said. “So then I asked if the police had been out asking questions.”

  “What did he say?”

  “No. But he said they’d talked to Jack Francis at the house. Apparently he came into the dealership all steamed about it the next day.”

  She paused, and Po sensed her excitement.

  “Here’s the good part,” Kate said finally. “Jack Francis was not at the dealership when Mercedes disappeared. And we know he was not at home, either. So he was missing in action, too. And guess what the guy said?”

  “What?” Po obliged.

  “He said, ‘And if I were the one in charge of this investigation, I would be taking a close look at where he was. That man has too much to gain and too much to lose right now.’”

  “Wow,” Po said.

  “Exactly,” Kate came back. “Can you believe it?”

  “He may not know anything,” Po tried to warn herself and Kate.

  “Yes, I know,” Kate said. “But he could be right, too. And right now I’m just looking for people with motive and opportunity who are not Aaron. I’m not exactly finding them in short supply.”

  Po had to smile. “You have been busy,” she said. “Good work. You’re amazing. But please,” she said, remembering her worries from the morning. “Please, no more investigating. You’ve done your part.”

  “You’re just worried I’ll get into trouble,” Kate said.

  “Of course I am,” Po responded. “Your mom was my best friend. She would never understand. I promised to watch out for you.”

  “I’ve gotta run,” Kate said. “I promise to behave myself for the next few hours. Maybe we can confer in the morning. I have the day off work. And I need help deciding the next step.”

  “OK,” Po said, happy to extract a promise of quiet caution, even if it was temporary. “Let me think and plot and plan. Come by in the morning
and we can talk again.”

  And with that the two said goodbye and Kate headed for her evening, flush with the successes of the day.

  Po, however, continued to worry. About Kate. About Maggie. About Aaron. About what this violence meant for her haven of a town. And about what to do next.

  To ease her out-of-sync body and her uncomfortable state of mind, Po started manufacturing her one sure fix for relaxation and re-energizing: a small pot of strong cinnamon tea. The aroma filled the whole kitchen and seemed to settle around her warmly. She was settled in a deep comfortable chair working on her second cup of brewed spice and the continuation of her furious contemplation when the phone rang again.

  “Maggie,” she said, much more alert for this call. “Are you done for the day?”

  “Done for is more like it,” she said. “And yet, no. We’re just taking a break. Then I’m taking Maya to dinner. But I wanted to call and check in.”

  “Oh, I’m glad you did,” Po said. “I was hoping to hear how it went. But maybe that will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “The full blown version will, I think,” Maggie said. “But I think it’s going fine. Maya is smart. I’m glad to have her helping me. By the end, I think I’ll have a plan.”

  “That always makes me feel better,” Po said. “The problem doesn’t have to be fixed. I just need to know my next step.”

  “Exactly,” Maggie said. “Speaking of next steps, how’s that other problem going? You know, the one with the dead woman at the center? Did you learn anything with my crew today?”

  “I have a few questions for you,” Po said, “but nothing earth-shattering. We’re still working, though. Kate’s doing some more digging. We should know more by tomorrow.”

  “Maybe we could have dinner tomorrow night,” Po went on. “I know Max would like to hear how it went. And I could gather the troops to make reports.”

  “That sounds perfect, Po,” Maggie said. “I’ll be there. I need to get some more steps down the road on all these problems—before they get any worse.”

  “I know, Maggie. I feel bad about all this,” Po said.