Dog-Gone Murder

by Marnette Falley

  CHAPTER 16

  It was with a sense of life being unsettled that Po gathered up the tote bag that she reserved for Queen Bees meetings and headed down to Selma’s store. Too many problems. The mystery of Fitzgerald’s disappearance unsolved. Mercedes abduction and likely murder. The suspicion falling on Aaron. And Maggie’s financial problems. Usually she’d be feeling at her most calm with the prospect of three hours with the Bees ahead. But today she couldn’t even get focused enough to figure out what to put in her bag to work on.

  When she arrived at Parker’s Dry Goods she sensed that she was not the only one who was suffering disquiet. She was running a little late, and the rest of the Bees had arrived and were chatting quietly. But the dynamic seemed off. Tense. Instead of engaging in their normal chatter about ongoing projects, their lives, and their news, the Bees seemed quiet. Watchful.

  “Oh, good,” Selma said when she saw Po taking off the lined rust-colored rain jacket she’d put on to ward off the chill of the October morning. “You’re here.”

  The other quilters stopped talking and turned to her.

  “Maggie said we had to wait for you to get an update,” Selma said.

  “I know I’m at the center of this maelstrom,” Maggie said. “But you’re the acting information hub. I wanted you to be here to help me sort out where we are and what’s going on in some coherent way.”

  With nods at points from the participants along the way, Maggie and Po, with occasional help from Kate, tried to tell the story. They started with the interruption the week before when Aaron had come by the Queen Bees meeting to say the dog was gone, and then followed the trail through the finding of Fitzgerald, his return, and Mercedes’ disappearance.

  “We’ve had so much difficulty and disruption lately,” Selma said, looking at Maggie with sympathy. “It seems like the perfect day for us to share something wonderful.”

  She went around the corner, and came back with a pieced quilt top over one arm. Susan helped her hold it up, with their backs to the group. Then they circled around so everyone could see. It was their fundraiser quilt top, their individual squares pieced together into a whole, a process that Po always felt was somehow magical.

  “It looks awesome,” Phoebe said, speaking for all of them.

  “It does,” agreed Eleanor. “You did an incredible job piecing it, Selma.”

  “You did, of course,” Kate said with a laugh. “But there’s still a lot of work to be done. Can we really get it done by next weekend?”

  “Well, we knew it would be tight,” Susan said. “I’ve cleared my schedule as much as I can. And I think I can get it quilted over the next three or four days. I just have to stay really focused. Then Po said she’d do the binding.”

  “Luckily it’s not too big,” Selma said.

  They all nodded.

  “Can I come by tomorrow and help with the quilting?” Phoebe said. “I would really like to do some of it. And if I came here, you’d be around to help me if I run into trouble. I don’t have nearly your experience—and I’d like to learn.”

  “Sure, I’d love some help,” Susan said. The group moved on to talking about how they’d like the piece quilted, and confirmed their earlier choice of backing and binding fabrics. With the key decisions made, they scattered, feeling the joy of creating something together, even given the dark cloud they found themselves under.

  Po and Leah left together, carrying out the plan from the day before. They each contributed a container of homemade soup, and they stopped by Marla’s and bought a long loaf of seven-grain bread. Leah had brought along a large brown paper tote, and some tissue, and they packaged the food in the bag and headed for the Richardson home. As they trudged up the driveway to the door, Po felt some nervousness kick in. “I wonder if anyone is even home,” she said.

  “If not, we’ll just come back later,” Leah assured her.

  But someone did open the door. And maybe the perfect someone. The young, slightly round frame of Melanie Richardson appeared, as elegantly dressed as her mother always was, although without the same strength of presence.

  “Hi, Melanie,” Leah said in response to her somewhat questioning greeting. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I had you in class a number of years ago, and Po and I were friends of your mother’s.” Melanie nodded, and Po felt encouraged.

  “We wanted to bring this by,” she said. “We’ve sure been thinking about you.”

  “Why, thank you,” Melanie said. “Won’t you come in for a moment?”

  She brought out a pitcher of iced tea and some glasses, and they settled on the sofa across the coffee table from their hostess. Po noticed she looked drawn and tired. “To be expected,” she thought.

  “We’re both members of a quilting group,” she said, “and everyone in our group has some connection to your mom. She was very active in Crestwood; such a social woman and generous with her time.”

  “Yes, she has always been very involved,” Melanie agreed. She thought for a moment. “Isn’t Dr. Maggie part of your group?”

  “Yes,” Leah admitted. “She’d have come with us, but shewas worried that might upset you.”

  “I can see that,” Melanie said. “But I can’t believe she’d knowingly hurt Fitz, or let him be hurt. And I can’t imagine how the two incidences could be connected.” She shrugged. “That the police’s problem to figure out,” she said.

  “I’m sure they’re working on it,” Po tried to reassure her.

  “I hope you’re right,” Melanie said with a slight frown. “All I’ve seen them do so far is make a mess of our house. And they’ve talked with the three of us for hours. And the housekeeper. And the guy who helps with the yard.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn they tried to interview each of the dogs.”

  Leah laughed. “I’ve had times I’ve wished dogs could talk, for sure,” she said.

  “Maggie did ask us to find out if you’re managing with the dogs alright,” Po spoke up. “She said she’d be happy to find someone to help if you need it.”

  Melanie seemed to think it over. “That’s very kind,” she said finally. “I’ll let her know if we decide that would help.”

  The two women, sensing that was their signal to leave stood up. “We don’t want to keep you,” Leah said. “We just wanted to express our sympathy.”

  Melanie showed them to the door, and they walked back toward Leah’s car.

  When they stepped off the front porch, Po looked at Leah, started to speak, and then shut her mouth again. Leah smiled at her, understanding precisely, and they headed for the car. This was not a good time to get caught saying anything you wouldn’t want everyone to hear. And it turned out she’d made a good choice.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Po and Leah spun around to look.

  Jarrod was leaning against the side of the garage, watching them.

  “Checking up on me?” He glowered.

  “Of course not,” Po said.

  “You were in the shop the other day,” he said accusingly.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “And you’re friends with the vet.”

  “Yes,” she said again. “But it’s not—”

  “Well, you’re not going to find anything,” he said, moving forward threateningly. “Even if I did let you roam around on my property.” He took another step in their direction. “And I’m certainly not going to allow that.”

  He moved even closer, and Po felt her heart pounding in her chest.

  “Let me show you to your car,” he suggested coldly, and they could feel his anger roll over them in waves as they mutely moved down the driveway.

  Po couldn’t resist looking back toward the house as they went around the corner, although she tried to be as casual as possible, and he was standing still in the driveway, watching their progress.

  “That didn’t go that well,” she said.

  “It didn’t go that badly either,” Leah said.

  Po loo
ked at her with surprise.

  Leah saw her look and shrugged. “Neither of us is bruised or beaten, right?” she said. “We did get to talk with Melanie. And we certainly seem to have confirmed that Jarrod is a top suspect.” She thought for a moment. “A worried top suspect, I’d say.”

  Po watched the familiar streets of Crestwood slide by and thought how uncomfortably foreign this feeling of fear felt in her dear town. “I guess you’re right,” she said.

  “What do we know about him?” Leah asked. “Where was he when Mercedes disappeared?”

  “I did see him that day,” Po said. “He was going fishing. I met him while he was buying bait. Kate went and chatted up the owner of the hardware store, to see if she could learn more. He confirmed that Jarrod bought bait, but that was all.”

  “Well, if he was fishing alone, he may not be able to prove where he was during the time she disappeared.” She paused. “So then,” she picked up her line of thought again. “What did he have to gain?”

  Po hesitated. “Mercedes could be hard to live with,” she said.

  “I have to agree with that,” Leah said wryly.

  “I think he might have been spending some time with Helen,” Po said slowly.

  “Really?” Leah asked. “You never said that.”

  “Well, I can’t be sure,” Po said. “But if they were having an affair, that could give him some motivation.” She paused. “He has always seemed so nice, though. I hate to think it.” Leah sniffed. “Did that seem nice to you?” she gestured back the way they’d come.

  “No,” Po admitted. “But he has been under a lot of stress.”

  “You always believe the best about people,” Leah said.

  She looked over at Po and smiled. “It’s one of your fine points, of course.” She went back to thinking for a minute. “What about money?” Po said, finally. “I always heard that marrying Mercedes set him up for life. Is that true?” “I don’t know for sure,” Leah said. “But I’ve heard it, too.” “If it is true,” Po said, “he could be our murderer.”

  CHAPTER 17

  On Sunday, Po lived her absolutely normal life. No indication that she was in the midst of terrible chaos, except for her unsettled state of mind. She ran and had a quiet breakfast with Leah, during which they avoided the topics of murder and mayhem. She worked on her landscape. She read the paper and drank coffee. She walked Hoover and cooked a quiet dinner with Max. She could almost believe the dread she seemed to carry with her was a figment of her imagination. The next day it all became real again.

  “You’ll never believe it,” Maggie said. “Melanie called me today. She actually wants to take me up on the offer to find some help with the dogs.”

  “Well, you were right,” Po said. “They must really be a handful.”

  “It’s tough enough to deal with all the regular care they need on an average day,” Maggie said. “I can’t imagine handling it when the family’s under such stress.”

  “So, do you have someone who can help?” Po asked.

  “Yes,” Maggie said. “I had already talked to Catie about whether she’d be willing. She has always been good with Fitzgerald and the other dogs. She said she’d be happy to. And you know these kids. A little extra cash at that age is always a good thing.”

  “That’s terrific,” Po said. “What a perfect solution.”

  “There was one odd thing,” Maggie said. “Melanie said Angela had proposed the same thing.”

  “Really?” Po said.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Maggie said. “She worked for Mercedes as Fitz’s handler for at least two years.”

  “It was nice of her to be thinking about what they’d need,” Po said.

  “You’re right. She’s very considerate,” Maggie said.

  “So, when does Catie start moonlighting?” Po asked.

  “Today,” Maggie said. “She’s probably there now.”

  “Jack Francis and Jarrod have seemed so angry and suspicious,” Po said. “It makes me feel better somehow that Melanie is willing to accept some help.”

  “I know what you mean,” Maggie said. “I feel better, too.”

  “Did you get a chance to talk to Aaron?” Po asked.

  “Yeah,” Maggie said. “I think the food thing was just a misunderstanding.”

  “Really?” Po said.

  “I think I hurt his feelings asking about it,” Maggie said. “I’m sure it’s just insult to injury, given everything else that’s going on. But he said that Mrs. Spaeth had bought the food and then forgotten to take it with her on her way out. Julie asked if he’d mind dropping it off on his way home. He thought Angela knew about it, but Lynne was working the front desk, so she must not have.”

  “Poor kid,” Po said. “But you had to ask.”

  “I know it,” Maggie said. “But exactly.”

  “Could you do anything to reassure him?” Po asked.

  “I did try,” Maggie said. “Hopefully it will be OK. He’s coming to work today. If we just do our regular thing, I think it will normalize.”

  After the friends hung up, Po thought about their conversation. “I’m taking Melanie’s openness as a sign,” she said to Hoover, who was lying on her feet, as usual. “Maybe the tide is turning.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Slight, 18-year-old Catie Kilpatrick leaned back, stretching, and picked up the spray hose hanging on the wall. The tour and training were over, and it was time to wash down the runs for the seven dogs that lived in the glamorous kennel and shared a glamorous life with Mercedes Richardson. The first-class kennel, attached to the house. The high-end training area. The well-lit trophy case.

  She walked down to the double-wide run on the end and greeted champion Fitzgerald. “Hi, baby,” she said. “I’m sure you miss your mama.”

  “I wonder what will happen to them now,” she thought.

  While she liked Melanie and was happy to have the extra cash, she didn’t think the young woman seemed like the serious dog type. And she’d seen plenty of it, working at the clinic, which catered to high-intensity dog owners.

  “Nothing glamorous about this job. Poop scooper and kibble chef.” Still, she liked it. “Here and Dr. Maggie’s are about the only places you can play with sweet dogs and get paid,” she thought, smiling. “It’s worth the dirty work. And Dr. Maggie is a great boss. She always takes the time to explain things when I ask. And she trusts me.”

  Just the other day Maggie said how observant she was for noticing that T-Thomas—a normally ravenous-at-all-times basset hound, who tended toward the tubby side—had twice left half a meal untouched. Unheard of. “Maggie told everybody about that at the team meeting. And she seemed to think it was important when I told her what Mrs. Silversmith said. So I guess it was good that I brought it up. I wonder …”

  Her thought was interrupted by a noise, like a cabinet shutting. But then she thought she must have imagined it, and she went back to her work. She didn’t even bother to turn on her music when she was cleaning runs. The noise of the water drowned out everything else. “They are sure set up here,” she thought. “Not many people would build a boarding facility onto their house.”

  She turned her attention to hosing down the first run. With the water turned on full force, she never heard the door open behind her. The blow that came was so hard, she never realized what had happened. She crumbled to the floor, dead.

  CHAPTER 19

  Po had her running shoes on and one foot out the door when her cell phone rang. She pulled off her gloves and pulled it out of her jacket pocket.

  “Hello?” she answered, puzzled about who might be calling so early.

  “Hi, Po,” Maggie answered. “Did you see the news this morning?”

  “No,” she said. “Clearly I must have missed something important. What happened?”

  “Oh, Po,” she said, and there was a full minute of silence as Maggie clearly tried to control her voice on the other end.

  “Someone killed Catie,” s
he finally blurted out.

  It didn’t matter then that Maggie was incapable of talking, because Po was incapable of hearing. She shut the door and walked blankly to the closest chair, where she sat clutching the phone with her head between her knees willing herself to breathe.

  “Po?” Maggie said finally. “Are you there?”

  “Yes,” Po managed. “I’m still here. How could this happen? What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I just can’t believe it,” Maggie said. “I feel terrible. I suggested her. I suggested the whole idea. And she was killed at the Richardsons’. Catie’s parents … well can you imagine?!”

  “Oh, my,” Po said. She couldn’t seem to get any further. Couldn’t process the horror of this news. Couldn’t even think about the sparkly young woman without her brain seeming to shut down.

  “I have to go to the clinic today, Po,” Maggie said with some desperation. “And our whole team will be feeling the way I do. I think I have to close for the day. That’s the only thing I can do, I think. What do you think?”

  “Oh, my,” Po said again. “I hadn’t thought that far yet. But you’re probably right. I think that’s the best approach.”

  “I’m sorry, Po,” Maggie said. “I know that’s the least of it. But I’m stretched so thin right now I can’t think straight.”

  “No, you’re entirely right,” Po said. “And helping Catie’s friends and co-workers through this is a big deal.”

  “OK,” Maggie said. “I have to go think about what I’ll say and what we need to do to make that work. I’ll call you back after.”

  Ten minutes later, Po was sitting in the same spot, staring at the wall. And her phone rang again. This time it was Kate.

  “Po?” she heard her goddaughter say when she flipped the phone she was still holding back open.

  “Hi, Kate,” Po said. “I heard. Maggie just called.”