Canines and Crime

by Sandra Baublitz

  “Woof!” Paw ran to Mr. Kempton, tail-waving. My dog stepped on the bag of mulch lying on the ground by the gardener. Mulch poofed out of the bag, coating the flower bed, my dog, and the gardener.

  “Doggone it, Paw.” Mr. Kempton put a hand up to protect his face as my Saint Bernard shook himself.

  I rushed up and grabbed Paw by the collar to stop his shaking. “Sorry, Mr. Kempton.”

  Mr. Kempton brushed mulch off his arms, shirt, and out of his hair. “That dog is as bad as some of our residents. No respect for the park. Look at the mess he’s caused. Now I’ll have to dust off the flowers.”

  I gritted my teeth. I knew my dog could be mischievous, but Mr. Kempton didn’t have to be so cross about it.

  The gardener continued his rant. “Half these flowers have been crushed.” He gestured to the bed in front of us. “I knew that tea party was a bad idea. People traipsing through with no respect for the foliage and wildlife.”

  I bit my tongue. Mr. Kempton had a point, but he took his duties to an extreme. I realized with guilt that I may have been the one to crush the flowers. I fell over the uneven pavers and into the flowers the night I found David. Although it was dark, I recognized the stone I had tripped over in the dark.

  “Why are the pavers uneven?” I didn’t realize I spoke out loud until Mr. Kempton spoke.

  “The town committee, of course. No money in the budget, they say. Bah! They have the money and don’t want to spend it on pavers. Want a fancy gazebo. Hmmph.”

  I smiled. At least he had forgotten about the flowers. Or so I thought.

  “Look at this bed. Crushed flowers and trash among my beautiful blooms. No respect.” He shook his head then picked out several items. “A shoe heel? Who loses a shoe heel in a flower bed?”

  I observed the heel. It was around two inches long with a pointed end. A ladies’ heel in a beige color that was partially discolored by dirt.

  “They sometimes break off.” I rarely wore high heels even though I was short. It was much easier to manage Paw in tennis shoes.

  “Hmmph.” Mr. Kempton tossed cigarette butts and a paper cup into a trash bag. “People should pick up their trash.”

  “I agree.”

  Honk! Honk! A pair of geese sailed over and landed in the pond. Paw went on alert - head raised and pointed toward the birds. He lunged, forcing me to follow or lose my grip on the leash.

  Mr. Kempton yelled, “Keep that dog away from Lois and Clyde.” He had named the geese who were a regular fixture at the park. Each year they nested here, raising their young.

  Paw ran to the pond, ears flapping as he barked in joy. He loved to visit Lois and Clyde but knew to stay out of beak range.

  The geese swam in serenity in the middle of the pond. Paw stood on the bank and barked a few moments then put his nose to the ground. We stood close to where we had found David’s body. A chill went down my spine. Paw stuck his head in amongst the weeds at the edge of the pond.

  It was so peaceful here. How could death have touched such a tranquil place.

  Paw raised his muzzle from the weeds and flung his head, sending drool and water everywhere, coating my pants. He chuffed and nudged my legs.

  “Yes, boy, we have to concentrate on living, but we will find David’s killer.”

  Paw tugged on the leash. Having finished by the pond, he pulled me away, back to the entrance of the park.

  Chapter 4

  The next day I was cleaning the kitchen when the phone rang. “Hello.”

  “Hi, sugar,” Alma said. “Can you do me a favor? Mr. Bishop has some papers ready for the foundation’s latest project, but I don’t have time to pick them up. Could you do it for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, sweetie. Just drop them off to my house.”

  “No problem.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too.” I hung up and put away the mop. “Come on, boy,” I called to Paw. “We have an errand to run for Alma.”

  “Woof.” Paw met me at the door, tail waving.

  Ned Turner stood outside Mr. Bishop’s office smoking a cigarette. He stared down at his feet, lost in thought.

  Paw growled low in his throat.

  I pat his head and said, “Hush. Now is my chance to question him. Behave.”

  Paw rolled his eyes up to me. If a dog’s expression could convey disgust, then his did.

  We strolled over to Turner. “Good morning.”

  “Yeah, what’s so good about it?”

  “The sun is shining.”

  “Aren’t you Miss Perky this morning?” He peered at me. “You’re that woman that Tanner left money to.” He flicked ash off his cigarette. It landed at my feet.

  Paw stepped back and started to bare his teeth.

  “Not me. The Foundation.” I pat Paw’s head to soothe him.

  “Same thing. Less money for m-. For Charlotte.”

  I cocked my head on the side. “You figure she’ll share with you? Makes a good motive for murder.”

  Turner glared at me. “I didn’t kill him.” He flicked more ash. This time it landed on Paw’s back.

  Paw barked and bared his teeth.

  “Hey, watch it!” I brushed the ash off Paw and held him close to me.

  “Sorry.” He smiled. “Accidents happen.” He dropped his cigarette and crushed it into the pavement.

  “Funny thing,” I said. “The park gardener found cigarette butts in one of the flower beds. Could be they belonged to whoever killed David.”

  Turner bared his teeth. “Lots of people smoke.”

  “Ned!” Charlotte Tanner strode down the lawyer’s front steps. “Let’s go.” She brushed past me in a cloud of perfume.

  Paw sneezed.

  Charlotte ignored Paw and I as she swept forward to an expensive, late-model sedan. Turner threw one last glare my way and followed her. I watched them drive off then urged Paw to the lawyer’s front door.

  I picked up the papers from the receptionist and dropped them off at Alma’s then went home and dropped off Paw. “Stay here, boy. I’ll be back with treats.”

  Big, brown eyes stared sadly up at me, but his tail wagged at the mention of treats.

  I stepped through the door of Harriet’s Eats and inhaled deeply. Delicious aromas of baking bread and sugar-drenched treats permeated the air. I loved it here but knew I put on weight whenever I indulged in one of Harriet’s divine desserts.

  Today Harriet stood behind her counter filling a cardboard pastry box with freshly baked snickerdoodles. No customers stood at the counter. Two sets of couples occupied a table at the back.

  “Hi, Harriet.” I strolled up to the counter.

  “Hey, Clarissa, where’s Paw?” She peered through the front window of the shop.

  “At home. Some of your customers don’t like him in the shop.”

  She waved a hand in dismissal. “I don’t mind, and if someone does, they can go eat elsewhere.”

  “I wouldn’t want to ruin your business.”

  Harriet laughed. “Hardly. This is my slow time and I’m filling orders. Business is good.”

  She set the filled box of cookies to the side and closed the lid. “Have you solved David’s murder?”

  “No. That’s why I’m here.”

  Harriet’s mouth dropped open.

  I shook my head. “No. No. I don’t think you did it. I want to ask you about David. I didn’t know him, and I need more information about his life and relationships.”

  Harriet closed her mouth. “You mean you want to know about Charlotte.”

  “Yes, and Ned Turner.”

  She snorted in disgust. “Turner’s a jerk and I don’t trust him.”

  I had gotten the same impression. “Do you know anything about his past?”

  “No. I only know he’s an artist. Don’t act like one if you ask me.”

  “How so?”

  Harriet sighed. “Artists are sensitive types. They need to be to be creative. See things others miss. Tu
rner? He doesn’t care for anyone but himself.”

  “What about Charlotte? She doesn’t seem the type to like Turner.”

  “Word around town is that she’s his model for those sculptures he creates.” Harriet adjusted cookies on a tray. “I always thought she was a gold digger. She married David for his money.”

  I blinked. “Really?”

  “Yeah. David’s brother was a developer and when he died, he left everything to David.” Harriet shrugged. “I think he felt guilty for David’s troubles since David had been drinking at Chet’s house the night he hit that boy.”

  “Why would Charlotte leave David if she wanted money?”

  “Because David gave most of it to the boy’s parents, the Davises, in reparation.”

  “Had they sued him?” I turned at the tinkle of the bell as another customer walked into the cafe.

  Harriet waved to them. “No. He sent them money of his own free will.”

  A young woman with chestnut-colored hair stepped behind me.

  Harriet gestured to the counter. “Anything you would like?”

  “I want it all.” The young woman laughed. “Everything smells so good, but I’ll wait until she is done.” She motioned to me.

  The doorbell tinkled again. Two men walked through the door.

  I sighed. My conversation with Harriet was at an end. I ordered a slice of cake for myself and two peanut butter cookies for Paw. My vet would kill me if she knew I was giving him cookies.

  “Talk to you later,” I said to Harriet as I paid my bill and left the counter.

  Outside the weather had turned cooler. I took my treats and headed home.

  I pulled into my driveway to find Bruce standing next to his car. He leaned against the driver’s side door with his arms and legs crossed.

  I parked, got out, and walked up to him.

  He straightened up. “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  He reached out and pulled me into a tight embrace then gave me a quick kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

  I cupped his cheek. “And I’ve missed you. Done with your case?”

  “Yeah.” He released his hold to drape an arm across my shoulders. “Something smells good.”

  I held up the dessert bag. “Cake and peanut butter cookies.” I winked at him. “I’ll share, but Paw won’t.”

  Bruce laughed. “I won’t make him. I’ve no wish to wrestle the beast.”

  Bruce and Paw adored each other. “Where is the big guy?”

  “In the house.”

  Keeping an arm around me, Bruce walked with me to my front door. As I dug in my purse for the key, Bruce asked, “What have you learned about Tanner’s death?”

  I raised an eyebrow and inserted the key, unlocking the door. “What makes you think I know anything?”

  Bruce grinned and leaned over to kiss my face. “Because I know you can’t resist solving a mystery.”

  Paw greeted us at the door. “Woof! Woof!” His plumed tail waved back and forth at top speed.

  Bruce play-wrestled with Paw for a few minutes then we went to the kitchen to eat the goodies I’d brought home.

  I prepared Bruce’s coffee and my tea then divided the cake slice in half. Bruce placed forks and napkins on the table. Paw followed us, whining for his cookies.

  Once our drinks were ready, we sat at the kitchen table. Paw begged with his big, brown eyes. “Here you go.” I placed his cookies on the floor. A dish wasn’t necessary since Paw would lick up every crumb.

  Bruce forked up a chunk of cake. Before he placed it in his mouth, he asked, “Who do you suspect?”

  “Charlotte, David’s wife, or Ned Turner, the artist who is her boyfriend.”

  He nodded. “Anyone else?”

  I chewed a bite of cake and considered his question. “I’m not sure, but I know I want to question Sam Davis.”

  Bruce quirked an eyebrow. “Never heard of him.”

  “He’s on vacation here with his wife. The thing is he was at the reading of David’s will. Apart from the charitable bequests and Charlotte’s share, Sam gets everything else. House. Cars. Money. And yet he refused to accept it.”

  “Why would he refuse it?”

  I shrugged. “I haven’t any idea, but I intend to find out.”

  Bruce finished his cake and sat back. “Inheriting assets is a strong motive for murder. If he knew about it. Do you think Davis refused the bequest to initially throw suspicion off himself?”

  “It’s possible.” I set my fork onto my empty plate. “He seemed angry at the inheritance at the lawyer’s office.”

  I glanced down at Paw. He had eaten every bit of cookie and washed the floor. Wet patches glistened on the tile next to where Paw sat staring up at me.

  “Sorry, boy, that’s all the cookies. You know, according to the vet, I’m not supposed to feed them to you.”

  Paw shook himself and trotted into the living room. He had a love/hate relationship with the vet. He loved visiting with the other dogs and the staff at the vet but hated the exam and vet’s rules about his diet.

  “Do you want me to run a search on Davis?” Bruce was a private investigator and had resources that I didn’t.

  “Yes, and can you check on Ned Turner?”

  Bruce nodded as he gulped the last of his coffee. “Will do. Now,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “how about we sit on the back deck? I’ve missed you.”

  I giggled, knowing Bruce liked to cuddle with me on the deck chairs. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 5

  The following afternoon, Shelbee and Jac sat at my kitchen table, cups of tea cooling in front of them. Paw lay on the floor next to Samuel, each gnawing on the treats that Shelbee had brought. Bitsy chewed on a smaller one just for her. I lifted a plate of veggies and dip in one hand, a plate of cookies in the other, and walked to the table placing them in the middle. I had run to Harriet’s for the cookies that morning. Marie, her assistant, had filled my order since Harriet was in the back baking.

  “How did the gazebo fundraiser go?” Jac asked.

  “It was fine,” I said. “But I found David Tanner dead in the pond behind the gazebo.”

  Shelbee gasped. “David Tanner? He was such a nice guy. How on earth did he end up in the pond? Was this during the fundraiser?”

  Jac shook her head. “He was a nice man like Shelbee said. He helped me carry groceries into the house one day and he’d often stop to speak with my dad.”

  I hugged myself, still upset from finding his body. “He was murdered.”

  Jac and Shelbee glanced at each other then back to me.

  “Murdered?” They said in unison.

  “Yes. He was stabbed and then pushed in the water. Paw woke me up that night after the fundraiser and wanted to go to the park. He led me around the gazebo and directly to the pond. Once there, I saw a man face down in the water. I rushed over and turned him face up, hoping I could revive him. But I couldn’t.”

  The kitchen was silent as Jac stared down at her cup of cooling tea, and Shelbee gazed at her dogs chewing their bones on the floor. The plate of veggies and dip I had placed on the table sat forgotten, as did the peanut butter cookies.

  “Harry hasn’t found the murder weapon, but now thinks it was a thin blade.”

  Shelbee grimaced. “You’re going to be investigating, I assume?”

  I nodded. “I owe it to David to find out who killed him, even though I just met the man. Jac pushed her tea away. “So where do we start?”

  Shelbee said, “What do you know about David?”

  I sighed. “Not a lot.”

  Shelbee raised her cup of tea. “What did you learn at the bakery?”

  I crossed my arms. “How do you know I went to the bakery?”

  Shelbee gestured to the plate of cookies. “Those are Harriet’s peanut butter cookies.”

  I huffed. “Yes, they are. Since Harriet’s is a hub of activity, I thought I’d ask her if she knew David Tanner. And she did. She didn’t think
he had any enemies other than his estranged wife and maybe her new artist boyfriend. She says everybody else liked David.”

  Samuel whined.

  “It’s okay, baby,” Shelbee said. “Just eat your bone and we’ll go for a walk in a few minutes.” Turning to me she said, “Have you spoken to the artist?”

  “No, I haven’t. I thought I would go this afternoon to the artist co-op and see if I can interview him then.”

  Jac set her teacup down. “We’ll go with you.”

  “Yes,” Shelbee said. “We’ll take the dogs too.”

  “They’re allowed at the co-op?”

  “Yes,” Shelbee said. “You can bring Paw. Maybe he will find some clues.”

  “Woof!” Paw agreed.

  “Yip! Yip!” Bitsy added.

  Samuel’s woof was muffled as he was chewing his bone.

  The three of us and the dogs piled into Shelbee’s car. We drove through town to the artist’s co-op. The co-op was housed in one of the town’s historic buildings. The lower level sold the artist’s creations while the upper floors held artist studios. Many of the artists offered classes to teach students their craft. Besides Ned Turner, a painter, a woven crafts artist, a stained-glass artist, and many others worked there. Ned Turner had taken over the studios of the former sculptor who had moved out of town according to Harriet.

  As we entered through the front door, I stepped into a shop filled with lovely creations. One wall held paintings in various styles while the opposite wall held displays of stained glass and sculpture. Shelbee led us forward to a young woman with curly black hair and piercing green eyes.

  Gesturing with her hand, Shelbee said, “This is Cassie Reynolds. Cassie these are my friends, Jac and Clarissa.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” Cassie smiled and glanced down at the dogs. Her green eyes widened. “I see you brought some friends along to.”

  I held tight to Paw’s leash. “I hope it’s all right to bring them inside.”