“Why don’t we post the job on that Deer Creek Help Wanted website?”
“That’s probably a good idea. I’ll get something written up and posted tonight. These incident reports will go to Howard in the morning and then I’ll spend the rest of the day here.”
The phone rang and startled them both.
“Milky Way Kennels,” Gracie answered hesitantly.
“Gracie, I’ve been trying to call you all day.”
It was Isabelle. Gracie grimly tightened her hold on the receiver.
“Listen, Isabelle, I really don’t have time to talk.”
“Yes, you do, and you can’t go on avoiding me about those books. I’ll be at your house in the morning to pick them up. Have them ready.” Isabelle’s dark tone was almost menacing.
“If it’s so important, they’ll be on the steps outside the kitchen door.”
“All right then. It’s about time you were reasonable.” Isabelle voice became sugary. It was her condescending inflection that Gracie hated so much.
“Whatever.” Gracie slammed the phone down with frustration.
“Ah, the pain-in-the-butt cousin finally caught up with you, huh?’ Jim smirked, and his deep blue eyes flashed with humor. He eased the recliner back all the way.
“Don’t get comfortable, and don’t think she’s getting what she wants,” Gracie snapped.
“Hey, Chief, we’ve all had a bad day. Don’t take your family troubles out on me too.”
“Sorry, but she’s not getting her way. I still have some leverage in this.”
“Gracie, you need to take it easy on her. She’s just lost her mother. Have some mercy.”
“Yeah, I know I should, but I still need to talk to Uncle Stan. He wanted me to have this stuff for some reason.” Gracie pulled the center desk drawer out and found a brush.
“He’s a sick, sad old man. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore, although he likes to tweak Isabelle.” Jim grinned.
“He knows what’s going on,” Gracie said defensively. “I just need to find out what he wants me to do with Charlotte’s stuff. I’ll see him tomorrow night at the VFW. It’s poker night, and he never misses. Isabelle won’t go in the place, so we can talk safely.”
“Good grief, you’re making this all pretty dramatic. Have you been watching reruns of Murder, She Wrote?”
Gracie brushed her tangled hair smooth and clipped it back above the nape of her neck.
“We’ll see what Uncle Stan says. If it was a mistake, I’ll hand over the goods to Isabelle. But I don’t think he made a mistake no matter how much beer he had. I’ll bet money on it.”
“All right then.” Jim shifted the recliner to the upright position. “Let’s make a little wager. How about twenty bucks and a fish fry from Midge’s?”
“You’re on, Jimmy, my friend.” Gracie laughed for the first time that day.
Chapter 14
True to her word, Gracie plunked the bag of books on the steps and headed out to file the accident reports with Howard first thing Friday morning. She had filled a bag with the old romance novels. There was no way Isabelle would get the other things back that easily. Besides she wanted those dog books for her collection, and Isabelle would no doubt throw them in the garbage.
She was relieved to see that the bag was gone when she returned from her errands. Isabelle had apparently tried to pump Marian for further information, but since she knew nothing about the books, Isabelle had hit a road block. However, a tersely written note was waiting on Gracie’s desk. It read, “I know there are more things. I will call you later. Isabelle.”
Gracie crumpled the note and threw it away. The rest of the day flew by helping Marian handle grooming appointments, along with drop-offs and pick-ups. Some customers were pointedly expressing their displeasure with Milky Way hiring incompetent help. They weren’t sure they could trust the safety of their dogs to a place that had gotten robbed and had a major dog bite incident all in one week. Others were sure that a nasty lawsuit would ensue, and the kennel would probably go under. Gracie and Marian patiently smoothed ruffled feathers and assured each one that it was an anomaly, and they were beefing up the staff right away. Gracie also handed out a coupon for a free day of room and board to everyone who came through the door. By closing time, Marian and Gracie were exhausted.
“I don’t know how to thank you for today, Marian. You’re a lifesaver.” Gracie leaned back in her chair and propped her feet on the desk.
“No problem, but I’m going to need a long, hot bath tonight. My husband better be cooking supper or getting takeout, because I am one tired old woman.” Marian was reclining in the Jim’s ratty chair. “I don’t think I can take too many days like today, Gracie.”
“I hope we don’t have any more days like this, ever.”
Jim walked through the door, and Marian made an effort to get up.
“Don’t move, Marian. I’ll get the chair out of reception. Keep your feet up.”
Marian relaxed back into the chair, and Jim rolled the task chair from the reception area into the office.
“Well, ladies, did we survive the onslaught of dissatisfied customers?”
“I think so. Marian is a wonder woman at customer relations. We did get a few cancellations though. Most of them said they were going to Bark-n-Lounge in Pike.”
“Well, I guess it’s not unexpected. Did we get any hits on the website posting?”
Marian yawned and pulled the side handle to bring the chair back upright.
“You two have a lot to talk about, and this tired old mama is going home.” She stretched her back from side to side and got up with an audible groan.
“Get some rest, Marian. You’re the best. You will be back on Monday, right?” Gracie asked anxiously.
“Don’t worry. I will, but let’s try to have a less exciting week.”
“I’m with you on that one.” Jim stretched his well-muscled and tanned arms over his head and pushed them back against the wall. “We’ll see you Monday, and thanks, Marian.”
Jim and Gracie listened to her old pickup truck chug out of the driveway.
“We’re sure lucky that Marian is here right now.” Gracie twirled a pencil on a yellow legal pad. “And no, we didn’t get any hits on the site today.”
“We are lucky. Let’s hope we can keep her on board for a while. People know and trust her, so we’ve got that advantage. When she retired from Pawsitively Puppies, they had a heck of a time replacing her. I’m hoping we can find another gem like Marian.” Jim leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. “I’m beat, plus I’m supposed to meet Laney at Midge’s and then head out for a movie. Can you lock up?”
Laney was Jim’s latest girlfriend. They’d been dating for about six months, and so far, he hadn’t made excuses to break dates, like he usually did when things started to get serious. From what Gracie had seen of Laney, she was an approved girlfriend. She gave Jim the breathing room he needed, but they were spending more and more time together. He stood and rolled the chair back to reception.
“No problem. I’m picking up fish fries from Midge’s and taking them to my parents. They got back this afternoon. I’m going to try to see Uncle Stan too. We’re only at half capacity tonight, so it won’t take me long to do bed checks and set the alarm.”
Gracie locked up the day’s receipts in the small safe under her desk. Jim was already headed out the driveway, his disintegrating muffler marking his progress down the road when she made her rounds to see that everybody was secure, had water, and looked comfy. Haley, who had been sleeping in reception most of the afternoon, sniffed and licked muzzles on her way down the corridors. Satisfied that everyone was settled, Gracie punched in the security code and locked the front door. Haley ran ahead to the kitchen door, anxious to get to her supper bowl.
Her parents looked surprisingly relaxed and well-tanned when she opened the kitchen’s screen door, carrying the pile of take-out containers. Her mother’s gray and fadin
g auburn hair looked freshly done. It was a new cut, but no new color. Theresa had recently announced she was done being a slave to the monthly coloring drill. Her father was in stone-colored Dockers and a blue golf shirt that complimented his wavy silver hair.
The fish was excellent, as always, and Gracie updated her parents between bites on the events of the past week—funeral, Isabelle, robbery, and bite incident. Bob Clark looked at his daughter with concerned eyes.
“Are you doing all right then, Gracie?”
“Well, I’ve had some moments, but I think it’s under control.” Gracie plunged a fork into the coleslaw dripping with mayo.
Gracie’s mother wasn’t convinced, by the look she exchanged with her husband.
“You probably need to get some reliable, experienced help, so you can concentrate on running the business,” her mother said, taking a bite of her broiled fish.
“We’re working on it. I put a posting on that new Deer Creek Help Wanted site, an ad in the Pennysaver, and I called the employment agency in Warsaw. With Marian, things are off to a good start. We’ll see how Joe works out.” Gracie closed the lid on the take-out container. “I need one more full-time person, and I think we can handle things. Of course, it depends on whether we have any business after this week of major disasters.”
“It’ll work out. You and Jim have good business heads. And, Gracie, you need to take care of yourself. You don’t want to end up with…umm, problems again.” Her father wiped his mouth with the paper napkin and threw his container in the kitchen’s stainless steel trashcan.
“I’m fine and don’t worry.” Gracie’s voice was sharp. “I need to be busy, which reminds me, I’ve got to see Uncle Stan. He should be down at the VFW tonight. I’ll let you both get caught up on some sleep.” She picked up her mother’s container and hers, tossing them in the trash. Haley scrambled from under the kitchen table, her toenails clicking on the hardwood floor.
“Here’s my roll, Haley,” Theresa laughed. “You’re always so good until we clear the table. What do you need to see Uncle Stan about?” she queried as she wiped down the blue laminate counters and table.
“Well, I didn’t tell you the part about the books.”
“What books?” Her father put the newspaper he was reading on his lap and raised the recliner.
“Uh, well, Uncle Stan gave me a bunch of old books the day of the funeral. Isabelle is hot to have them back. She’s practically threatened me.”
“Are they valuable or sentimental to Isabelle?”
“Not really, but he had newspaper clippings about Charlotte’s accident, her death certificate, and some other papers stuck in the books. I gave some of them back already to keep the peace.”
“Really!” her mother exclaimed. “Bob, can you take the garbage out?”
“And the strangest part is that Charlotte’s diary was in there too.” She pulled Haley’s leash from her large bag.
Theresa clutched the dishrag and leaned against the counter. “No wonder Isabelle is upset. That should all be hers. Stan is really having a hard time and isn’t thinking clearly. Plus you have a gift for getting her going, but I think this may be over the line.” Theresa rinsed the cloth under faucet, draping it over the sink divider. She wiped her hands on an apple-patterned kitchen towel.
“Well, I don’t think so. I think he wants to keep Charlotte’s things away from Isabelle, but I need to know why he gave them to me. Was there anything fishy about Charlotte’s death?”
Her father stepped back into the kitchen with the newspaper in his hands.
“Fishy?” He folded the paper and threw it in the recycling box by the trashcan.
“Well, wasn’t the investigation cut short? Didn’t Aunt Shirley just want to move on?” Gracie clipped the leash on a squirming Haley.
“It was so long ago now, Gracie.” Her mother rubbed her forehead and put a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“As I remember, the police ran into a dead end with no real witnesses.” Her father pulled the white garbage bag from the trashcan.
“But didn’t somebody give them a partial plate number?” Gracie let the leash drop to floor as she searched for her keys in the over-sized tote bag.
“Hmm, yes.” Her father tapped his forehead with his index finger. “I think somebody did spot a car speeding along Mill Street that night and remembered two or three numbers on the plate. Nothing ever came of it though.”
“I think it was Matthew Minders who reported that,” her mother interjected. “Maybe it wasn’t enough for them to go on. Those weeks after Charlotte’s accident were pretty awful. Shirley and Stan had a lot to deal with. With your Uncle Stan’s reputation then, the police wouldn’t have cut corners. Everyone wanted to find the driver, but it was a horribly rainy night, and no one saw it. It was such a terrible loss for all of us.” Her voice suddenly quavered, and she quickly grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter. Her husband put his arm around her.
“Sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t be dredging this stuff up. You’ve got enough on your plate, losing Aunt Shirley.” She decided that it wasn’t the time to drop the bombshell that Char had been pregnant, but maybe they knew. She’d save that for another time. Her mother had truly loved her sister, and the reality of her loss was sinking in.
“It’s OK, Gracie. I’m tired, and Shirley’s death is kind of hitting me now that we’re home. I went to call her to tell her we were back and…” Theresa’s voice broke.
Gracie hugged her mother.
“Get some rest, Mom.” She glanced at her watch. “I guess I’ll catch Uncle Stan tomorrow. It’s getting late, and this will keep another day.” Gracie swung the bag over her shoulder and whistled for Haley. With tail thumping against the screen door, Haley stood panting with a silly Lab grin and leash dragging on the floor.
“Come on girl, let’s hit the road. Love you both, and I’m glad you’re back.”
“Love you too,” her father said as he rubbed his wife’s back. “Be careful, Gracie.”
“Sure thing. See you later.”
Chapter 15
Stan put the receiver down slowly. He wished Gracie was home. He needed to talk to her about Charlotte. Rubbing his jaw, he stood by the phone, pondering his next decision. He picked up the portable phone again and then put it down.
With Shirley gone, a weight should have lifted from his shoulders. It was a weight that had been there for way too many years. But the pain of losing Charlotte had never dissipated. The guilt and questions remained. He’d been afraid of the truth since the accident, but now he needed to know. Didn’t Charlotte deserve some justice after all these years?
Stan could still clearly see the large dent in the grillwork of Shirley’s car the morning after Charlotte’s death. She said Isabelle had hit a deer and they needed to get it repaired quickly. In the numbness of grief and haze of funeral arrangements, the car had been repaired before the funeral service. Shirley hadn’t wanted to discuss the car or report it to the insurance company. He’d put in the claim with Howard though. Shirley had been stoic and in control during the funeral and the investigation. How could he have been so weak? He’d let Shirley make too many decisions, and now he was left with a pile of regret.
He was too tired to deal with Isabelle anymore, and by giving Gracie the information, he knew he had disturbed a hornet’s nest. He needed to explain to her the suspicions he’d carried around for 20 years. Why wasn’t she home?
Stan took the phone into the living room and sat heavily into the deep-cushioned, buttery leather club chair. He thought about getting a beer, but he needed to think clearly. The pain he so often anesthetized with alcohol would keep him sharp tonight. He punched in the numbers again. He looked at his watch. It was almost nine. After four rings, the call went to Gracie’s answering machine. He decided to leave a message, although he hated talking to a machine.
Stan leaned his head back against the comfortable chair and closed his eyes. He jerked awake to find that it was after 9:30. He�
�d call her in the morning.
The yard and kennel area looked normal when Gracie drove into her driveway. Haley bounded out of the back seat and loped to the office door with Gracie. It still felt creepy, even though all seemed secure. Goose bumps raised on her arms when she unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. She was grateful for the lingering twilight that still glowed in the western sky. Her fingers were actually shaking as she punched in the code. She took a deep breath and tried to get her heart to slow down.
“Let’s take one more look around before we go in, girl.”
Haley waved her straight, broad black tail in agreement. A chorus of whining and barking began the moment they walked through the doorway to the runs. Everybody and everything did look fine as she checked each run.
“Well, boys and girls, sleep tight. Come on, Haley.” She tried to keep her voice lighthearted, but the words caught in her throat. Gracie switched the main corridor light off. She suddenly felt the need to get inside her house and lock herself in. She carefully set the code before locking the door.
“Come on, Haley, race you to the kitchen.” She took off with Haley who sprang ahead of her with ease. The shiny Lab leapt up the steps and then down again, butt-tucking in circles before she flopped on the ground at Gracie’s feet.
“Girl, you are a clown.” Gracie was laughing hard at the typical Lab comedic antics, one of the endearing qualities of the breed. “Let’s go in before the mosquitoes eat us up.”
Haley trotted through the kitchen door and headed for the cool tiles.
The message light was blinking on the answering machine. Gracie groaned. Isabelle had probably left another message. Maybe her mother was right, and she should give everything back to Isabelle. She had copies now, but she still wanted to talk to Uncle Stan before that happened. There was a reason he gave it to her and no one else. She’d listen to it later.
Family Matters (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 1) Page 8