Canines and Crime

by Sandra Baublitz

  “Going to have to find that out for yourself. I won’t disclose any information.”

  Lillian nudged Jac, who was sitting next to her. “What kind of shop do you plan to open?”

  “A human and pet café. I’m planning it like a bookstore, but where people can come have coffee or tea or cookies, but I want it to be pet friendly so that people can bring their dogs or cats. I’ll be making dog biscuits, cupcakes, things like that.”

  Lillian tapped her chin as she considered Jac’s plans. “You’re going to need help, somebody to bake, and somebody to serve. I can help you with the baking, but you’ll need someone else to help serve.”

  Jac’s jaw dropped.

  Mine did too. I never expected Lillian to volunteer to help with Jac’s shop, let alone baking

  Lillian scowled at me. “I bake all the time for the church, and I do a good job too.”

  Jac placed her hand on Lillian’s arm. “Thank you. I will take you up on that offer, but first I need to fit the store and decorate it. Dad says he will help, but I could use all your help.” She looked at all of us around the table.

  To my surprise, Mark nodded eagerly. “I can do that, and I’ll write your shop up in the paper and give you free advertising.”

  My jaw dropped again. I’d never known Mark to volunteer free advertising. Could he be falling for Jac?

  Jac grinned at Mark.

  Shelbee looked at me and together we turned to Jac. “We’ll help,” we said in unison.

  “Count me in too,” Bruce said.

  Lillian picked up her cup of tea. “Now can we get back to the case?”

  “Yes, let’s,” Jac said. “Why don’t you all tell me what you learned?”

  Mark, Lillian, and I started to speak at once.

  Bruce raised a hand, quieting us and said, “One at a time. Let Clarissa go first, and you can add in anything that she doesn’t cover.”

  The others nodded in agreement.

  “Clarissa, tell them in order how your day went,” Bruce suggested.

  I nodded. “All right.” I recounted what happened, from the time we left Shelbee and Jac in the morning, up through following Ned Turner, then the thrift shop and our encounter at the theater. I covered our meeting with the young couple.”

  “The way I see it we have five suspects – Charlotte Tanner, Ned Turner, Tammy Williams, and Sam and Laura Davis. Sam was named in the will and his wife was seen at the park on the night of the murder.”

  I stopped when Mark and Lillian protested. “Wait—” Mark started to say, but Lillian cut him off. “What?”

  I raised my hand. “I’ll explain. After Bruce captured the guy who stole from Mr. Wong, I ran into Laura.” I explained to Mark and Lillian Bruce’s involvement in Mr. Wong’s robbery. “After I spoke with Laura, Hannah Renaud asked me if I knew Laura and told me she had seen her in the park at midnight.” I explained the details of Hannah’s visit to the park

  “She did it!” Lillian’s eyes lit up in excitement.

  Bruce shook his head. “We don’t know that. Just because she was in the park at around the time David was killed doesn’t mean she did it.”

  “I agree,” I said. “We need to speak to her and confront her with this information.”

  Mark cleared his throat. “And find out where the husband was too.”

  “Do you think Tammy Williams did it?” Jac set down her glass. “I can’t see it. She’s been nothing but cordial to me.”

  “That’s because she wants your money,” Lillian said harshly. “That woman is a shrewd businessperson, and I wouldn’t put it past her to be involved in shady dealings.”

  Jac bristled. “She’s been nothing but honest and aboveboard with me.”

  Mark rose to Jac’s defense. “Lillian Hardcastle, you can’t prove that Tammy Williams is a criminal. I’ve never heard a whiff of scandal connected to her, and I have been an investigative reporter.” He smiled at Jac. “Jac has good instincts. She wouldn’t be taken in by someone unscrupulous.”

  Lillian crossed her arms and “humphed” but said nothing.

  “I want to know what really happened between Tammy and David regarding his house.” I raised a hand to placate Jac. “I’m not saying I think she’s dishonest, or that she was trying to steal his house from him, but it would help to know the truth of her dealings. Charlotte Tanner has accused her of murdering David to get the house. We need to know if that was a false accusation for that reflects on Charlotte’s veracity.”

  Shelbee lay her napkin on her plate. “What about her artist boyfriend? We haven’t had a chance to speak to him, and he certainly was rude the last time we did.”

  “I agree. Bruce and I haven’t encountered him.” I turned to Mark and Lillian. “Did either of you ever have a chance to speak to him?”

  Lillian frowned. “No. Charlotte threw us out of the house when we spoke with her, but I swear he was there and was too cowardly to come out and show his face.”

  The next morning, I awoke to warm sunshine and a light breeze, and I decided that it would be a good day to visit David’s grave and place some flowers and honor him. Since David’s funeral had been private, I didn’t get to properly say goodbye. Even though I only met the man once, I felt connected to him and felt it only proper to honor him.

  Paw and I ate breakfast, and I dressed in jeans, a sweater, and a light jacket.

  I phoned Mrs. Booksteen. “Good morning. Would you have any early spring flowers I could cut to place on David Tanner’s grave?”

  “I do. Daffodils. Will they do?” Mrs. Booksteen’s voice vibrated with irritation.

  “They would be fine. But if I’m imposing on you, I’m sorry. I can get the flowers elsewhere.”

  “No, no. You’re not imposing. I’d be happy to give you some flowers and have some company. It’s just been a rough night. I’ll explain when you get here.”

  “I can be over in ten minutes. Is that all right?”

  Mrs. Booksteen exhaled through the phone as if in relief. “Yes… That would be great.”

  I hung up, snapped on Paw’s leash, and grabbed my purse. Mrs. Booksteen was a very calm, sensible individual, and I wondered what could have occurred to rattle her.

  Paw and I left the house, and I drove us to the Booksteens.

  I gasped as I pulled into their driveway.

  Chapter 20

  Mrs. Booksteen’s car sat in the driveway with a window smashed and the trunk open.

  I parked and stepped out of my car.

  Paw pushed past me, trotting to Mrs. Booksteen’s trunk and standing up to peer inside. Mrs. Booksteen appeared from around the side of the house, carrying a pair of shears. “I see you’ve discovered the problem we had last night.”

  “Who did this?”

  Paw heaved himself up into the truck and sniffed and pulled at the carpet although the trunk was empty.

  I grabbed his collar. “No! Don’t!” I tugged and pulled, but he wouldn’t budge until Mrs. Booksteen walked around to the back of the car. “What’s he doing?”

  “I have no idea. I’m so sorry he’s ruining your car.”

  Mrs. Booksteen waved her hand. “Honey, he can’t do any more damage than the crook who already ruined my car.”

  Together we tugged and urged Paw from the trunk. He plopped down on the ground with a disgruntled look and reluctantly walked with me and Mrs. Booksteen back to her garden.

  I breathed in the spring warmth. “You called Harry?”

  Mrs. Booksteen began snipping daffodils. “Of course. I’m just glad I wasn’t here when it happened. Although I would’ve liked to have gotten my hand on the criminal who did this, I’m also glad I didn’t have to confront him.”

  “What time did it happen?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Booksteen and I went out for dinner. The dear man surprised me by coming home early and taking me out. Usually he’s too busy at the shop but we had a nice meal at Oliver’s and then visited friends. I’d say we were gone for about four hours
. When we came home this had happened.” She pointed back to the car.

  “Surely one of your neighbors heard or saw something?”

  Mrs. Booksteen handed me a bunch of daffodils. “I don’t know. No one said anything, but Harry canvassed the neighborhood.”

  Mrs. Booksteen bent down and held up a Ball jar filled with water. “Here.”

  I gently placed the flowers in the jar.

  She gestured to the second jar on the grass. “One for your grandmother’s grave too.”

  I hesitated. I hadn’t visited my grandmother’s grave in years. It’d been three years since her death and the wound still felt fresh.

  Mrs. Booksteen bent down to clip more daffodils. She spoke over her shoulder. “It’s time, dear.”

  I knew she was right, but I wasn’t sure I could do it. She glanced up at me. “It’s up to you.”

  I nodded. I loved my grandmother. She was the one who had left me my house. I had spent summers with her, sitting on her front porch, drinking lemonade and eating home-baked cookies. When she passed and left me her house, I’d felt guilty, but Harry had convinced me to take the house, saying that his mother would’ve wanted me to have it. I had protested that it should have been his, but he had waved me off, saying it was her choice.

  Lost in thought, I glanced down at Paw, who leaned against me staring up at me with big, worried eyes. “I’m okay, boy. You would’ve liked grandma and she would’ve liked you.”

  “She would have,” Mrs. Booksteen said. “She would’ve made Paw cookies every day.”

  I smiled tremulously. “She would have.”

  Mrs. Booksteen finished clipping daffodils, helping me fill the two jars. She walked back to my car with me and as we passed her car, I stopped. “Was it just your car? They didn’t do anything else to the house, did they? Did they steal anything from the car?”

  “No, that’s the strange part. Doesn’t look like they stole anything. And no, no one broke into the house. The back door looked like somebody was trying to jimmy it, but nothing was stolen from it or the car.”

  “Have there been other incidents in the neighborhood?”

  “Yes. There’ve been a few but not to this extent. Mr. Carl’s gnome collection in his yard was knocked over, but everybody attributed that the local high school kids having fun. Mrs. Peterman’s car’s tires were deflated, but again it looked like a prank. This,” she pointed to the car, “was much more serious.”

  “Perhaps it’s escalating?”

  “Maybe.”

  Paw stood up, sniffing the trunk again.

  “No. Get down.”

  Paw dropped back with a mutinous look at my command, drool dripping from his jowls. He shook his head vigorously, sending drool flying in all directions.

  “Good thing he’s outside.” Mrs. Booksteen wiped her sleeve. “I love your dog, but he can be a real handful.”

  “That he can.” I got in my car, settling the jars safely in my cup holder while Mrs. Booksteen opened the back door for Paw to hop in. He looked longingly at the front seat where he liked to sit. “Stay in the back for now, boy,” Mrs. Booksteen told him. “That way you don’t knock over the flowers.”

  “Mruff,” Paw huffed out. He sprawled across the back seat, placing his chin on his paws, looking dejected.

  Mrs. Booksteen closed the door on him, and I swiveled around to face the steering wheel. She stopped by my open door and laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Your grandmother loved you. She wouldn’t want you to keep carrying this grief around.” She gave my shoulder a squeeze.

  I closed my car door, started the engine and backed out, waving to her before Paw and I headed to the church.

  The church parking lot was empty at this hour of the morning, and I pulled into a spot closest to the cemetery behind the church. I got out and opened the door for Paw who jumped down and sniffed the air. I retrieved his leash and slammed the back door. “No leash for now,” I said, “but stay close.”

  Paw cocked his head, sniffed the air then dropped his nose to the ground, finding interesting scents on the macadam. I ducked back into my car and lifted out the two jars of flowers, closing my door behind me. Paw trotted happily along as we stepped through the cemetery gates and headed to David Tanner’s grave. The gravesite was closer to us than my grandmother’s, so I stopped there first. Fresh dug earth mounded the site and I carefully set the vase of flowers in the soil. Funeral flowers had wilted as they had been strewn across the mound of dirt. I knelt and stared at the gravestone. “I’m sorry, David. I wished we could’ve known each other better. I think you were a good man.”

  Paw sniffed the mound of earth and scratched at the dirt.

  “Stop that,” I hissed at him. He stopped and sat down, raising his nose to the air. I sat a few more minutes at David’s grave then stood up with the remaining vase of flowers in my hand. “I’ll catch who killed you, David. I promise.” I glanced around the cemetery, quiet in the early morning light. A tall tree with spreading branches offered gentle shade and flowers edged the cemetery fence. The grass had been recently clipped. All was peaceful here. But a deep sense of sadness pervaded me. With a sigh, I glanced farther down the cemetery lots. Glancing down at the flowers, I straightened my shoulders and motioned for Paw to follow me. It was time to visit grandma.

  Her gravesite was in the older part of the cemetery near the back. Her grave plot was neatly tended, and a small cross decorated with flowers sat in front of her gravestone. This I knew was Alma’s work for she felt it her duty to remember Harry’s mother. I dropped to my knees, touching the stone, feeling the cold seep into my fingers. I set my vase of flowers on the edge of the stone and laid my other hand on Paw who had stretched out beside me. His fur was warm and comforting, a lovely counterpoint for the cold chill of the tombstone. I thought of all the fun I had had with my grandmother and her loving warmth. She was quick with a hug and a kind word, but she always would admonish me if I did something wrong. I thought of the last time I had seen her, smiling happily from her porch as she waved at me as I backed out of her driveway.

  The last time I would see her, but I had no idea. Tears dripped down my face. I bent over Paw and sobbed into his fur as he placed his chin on my lap and a paw on my knee, trying his best to comfort me.

  I let my grief overtake me. Why did she have to die? It wasn’t fair. She had been in robust health.

  Who would have wanted to murder my grandmother?

  Because that is what had happened.

  Harry had stopped to visit his mother that day and found her stabbed, in the backyard, her eyes staring lifelessly at the sky. No last words of wisdom. No indication who had killed her. Harry had spent months searching for the killer, and I knew from Alma that every day he looked at her unsolved case folder, trying to determine a new lead.

  In my own amateur way, I had hunted for the killer until Harry had put a stop to it. “I’ve lost one person I love,” he had told me. “I don’t want to lose you too.” At that time, I had honored his request. I knew that was one of the reasons he never wanted me in any of his investigations.

  Gradually, as my sobbing subsided, I became aware of my surroundings again. Birds chirped in the bushes and trees, and the wind soughed gently through the cemetery. On a breeze, I caught the sound of weeping and turned my head to find its source. In the distance, I saw Harriet kneeling by David Tanner’s grave, sobbing into a tissue.

  I approached Harriet slowly not wishing to disturb her in her grief.

  Paw plodded along beside me then jerked to a halt raising his head and turning it toward the squirrel that scampered across the grass toward the tree in the churchyard. “Woof.”

  As woofs went it was a quiet one, more query than warning. The squirrel ignored Paw and scampered around and up the tree.

  Harriet jerked her head toward us then quickly wiped at her face with the backs of her hands.

  So much for approaching quietly. I walked up to her, Paw trotting along, having forgotten the squirrel.<
br />
  “What are you doing here?” Harriet asked. She eyed me suspiciously.

  I gestured over my shoulder indicating the graves behind me. “I was visiting my grandmother’s grave.”

  Harriet nodded absently then glanced back at the gravesite. She gestured to the vase of daffodils I had placed on David’s grave. “You?

  I nodded.

  “Thank you.” Harriet gazed down at the freshly dug mound, absently rubbing her left arm with her right hand. “At least someone is showing him respect.”

  “You were close to David, weren’t you?”

  She glanced up sharply. “I’m not going to discuss my relationship with him. It’s none of your business.”

  I placed a palm out in a placating gesture. “I’m not prying, but I am trying to find his killer. It would help to know more about him as I only met him at the fair.”

  Harriet looked away from me and back down at the grave. We stood in silence so long that I thought she wasn’t going to answer me. Finally, she said, “David was a wonderful man. Oh, he had his past, but he’d overcome it. That witch of a wife of his was the problem, and I’m not saying that just because David and I were together.”

  “What problems did she cause?”

  Harriet continued to rub her arm. “She knew David was planning on changing his will. She had a fit when she found that out. Came into the Café looking for him early one morning and told me that I wasn’t going to get David’s money.” Harriet’s voice raised in anger. “I didn’t want his money. I just wanted David.” She ended on a wail that fell into sobbing.

  I stood quietly as she struggled to compose herself. So David was going to change his will? That added a new wrinkle to the puzzle. How far would Charlotte have gone to prevent that from happening? He only left her the contents of the house so had he already changed it? I waited for Harriet to compose herself.

  When she did, I asked, “Had he changed his will?”

  Harriet nodded. “He didn’t tell her that, but the night before the fair he signed the new will. Normally he goes to Mr. Bishop’s office, but since the lawyer was going out of town, he stopped at David’s house and brought his secretary with him. They signed the paperwork there.”