Keep Calm and Candy On

by Wendy Meadows

  I push that thought out of my head. I can’t go pining over him right now. I have to find out where Bea buys her dog shampoo—if she buys it at all. The trouble is, with the internet, she could be ordering it from anywhere. She could be ordering it from Thailand and having it delivered to her door.

  West End is so small she would have to be getting it shipped in from somewhere, even if it’s just from Hartford. No one at the Hartford supplier’s office will tell me if she’s on their list of customers, either. No one will. I’m stuck with nothing, except for one thing.

  My mind spins in a thousand possible scenarios. I could saunter over to the toy store and straight up ask Bea what she uses to wash her dogs. That might tip my hand, though, that I consider her a suspect.

  That’s the problem with reinventing myself as a private investigator. Everyone in West End knows about it. They all consider me a detective equal to David Graham. If I go around asking questions, they all assume I’m investigating a murder case. In a way, my own reputation ruins my ability to fly under the radar. I can’t put people at ease because they all know it’s related to the investigation.

  I snap my laptop shut and get up. I’m not making any progress sitting around in the dark. I get dressed and go downstairs. Zack is working at the store today, so I have the whole day to myself.

  We have a routine worked out now. Whoever’s day off it is makes breakfast for the one who has to work. That means I can’t leave the house until he does. I have to make him breakfast and clean up while he opens the store.

  Oh, well, I can’t do any detective work now anyway. Everything will still be closed and all the suspects and prospects will be at home dealing with their own families.

  I make a pot of coffee and help myself to a cup while I plan out my day. I won’t sit around weeping over David Graham. That’s for certain sure. I have a life to lead.

  I have plenty of time on my hands, so I get out the waffle iron. I make waffles and savor two to myself before Zack comes downstairs. I put a plate on the table for him, a cup of coffee just the way he likes it, along with the butter and maple syrup.

  He eyes me with his head on the side. “Are you okay, Mom? You look like the cat that ate the canary.”

  I gasp in surprise. “I’m fine. Why?”

  “You look especially happy this morning. I don’t think I’ve seen you like this since you started dating Detective Graham.”

  I blush at the mention of David. I still haven’t told Zack about the breakup. I should do that, but for some reason, I just let it go.

  How can I be happy about breaking up with David? When I think about it, I realize I am happy. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. Maybe I’m only just realizing how truly free and independent I am. For the first time in my life, having a man or not having a man doesn’t matter. This is my life. It’s good whether David’s in it or not.

  I change the subject. “What about you, sweetie? I hardly ever see you anymore.”

  He bows his head over his waffles and… Is that a blush I see on his cheeks? Is that an embarrassed smile curving his lips upward? “It’s nothing, Mom. I’ve just been spending a lot of time with my friends.”

  “So I gathered,” I reply. “Are they local?”

  “Some are. Some are from Peterborough. That’s why we go down there so much.”

  “What do you do when you go to Peterborough?” I ask. “Do you go to bars? Do you go to the movies? You said you went paintballing the other night.”

  “Most of the time we go to see local bands play.” He shrugs and does his best to suppress that smile, but it won’t stay hidden. What’s going on with him?

  “So when am I going to meet these friends of yours? If some of them are local, you should bring them into the store so I can meet them.”

  He looks away and stuffs his mouth with waffle so he doesn’t have to answer me. I can see this line of discussion makes him uncomfortable, so I let it drop. I take my dishes to the kitchen and start cleaning up while he eats.

  In a few minutes, he brings his coffee cup and plate to the sink. He kisses me on the cheek from behind. “I better get going. I’ll see you tonight, Mom. Have a good day. I love you.”

  He leaves. I sneak into the living room to watch him out of sight through the window. That’s my boy, tall and handsome, socially adept, smart—he’s a catch. I certainly hope he’s not into anything bad. That would be my worst nightmare.

  I finish the kitchen and put the whole house in order before I make my move. I collect my handbag and head down the street toward town. I get all the way to Main Street.

  I see David’s car parked in front of the vacant lot. He leans against the fender flipping the pages of his notebook. Now I can’t ignore him, but I don’t want to. We both have to live in this town. If our relationship really is all over, we still have to deal with each other. The sooner we start doing that in an amicable way, the better.

  I square my shoulders and walk up to him. He snaps his notebook closed and straightens up. “Are you okay?”

  I nod. “I’m fine. How are you doing?”

  He nods back. “I’m okay, too. I was hoping I would see you today so we could talk about stuff.”

  “Me, too. I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us. I want us to get along. We’re neighbors and friends. I don’t want that to end, even if we can’t be…. you know…. whatever we were before.”

  “I feel the same way,” he replies. “I still like you and respect you as much as ever.”

  I shrug. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Can you tell me who Mr. Stewart gets that dog shampoo from?” I ask. “Who is his supplier?”

  His face lights up. “I was going to ask you about the dog shampoo, too. He gets it from an outfit in Pennsylvania. It’s called Petastic. It’s a big pet supply warehouse that carries everything pet-related. I checked their customer list. He’s the only one on it from West End.”

  “I suppose they only supply retailers. Is that right?”

  “That’s right. Why do you ask? You seem awfully sure he’s not the killer. What do you know?”

  “I know Bea Donohue has three champion Shih Tzu dogs. I need to find out if she uses Floral Glow, too, and where she gets it. If she uses it, that could explain how the hair got on Mark’s suit. She even had a stronger motive to murder because her husband agreed to sell the oy store to Mark without her knowledge. She was against the sale and wanted to stop it.”

  He frowns and nods. All at once, his head shoots up and he smiles at me. “It’s really good to talk to you about the case again. I would hate to spoil our professional relationship, even if we can’t be…. you know…. whatever we were before.”

  I can’t help but smile back at him. Talking to him feels so good. “I would hate that, too. I missed talking things over with you.”

  He rocks from one foot to the other. “Listen to me. Can’t we just work on the case together as friends? I’m not asking you to put aside what happened between us. I know you wanted me to leave you alone and give you some space. I’m just asking as a friend. We both get a lot out of working together. Let’s just keep it going. I promise I won’t pressure you to go back to the way things were before. I give you my word of honor I’ll never even mention it. We’ll work on the case and nothing else.”

  In a fraction of a second, the weight of care and oppressive responsibility lifts off my shoulders. I never realized how much I needed this. “All right. I’d like that.”

  “Great!” He claps his hands. “Now where were we?”

  “We were finding out if Bea uses Floral Glow,” I reply, “and if she does, where she gets it.”

  “Right. What do you think? Any ideas?”

  I bite back a grin. “Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking of using my interviewing skills to disarm my subject. I was thinking of talking to Patrick about it. He doesn’t know I suspect Bea. He’ll tell me all I want to know about Bea an
d her dogs and what soap she uses.”

  David’s eyes flash open. Then he shakes his head. “That’s brilliant. I’m sure glad we’re working together on this. I could never come up with a strategy like that.”

  “I don’t know how brilliant it is, but I need you to do something for me.”

  “Name it,” he barks. “I’m at your command.”

  “I need you to find out who Mark Sheridan’s lawyer was. I need you to find out if Mark got the purchase agreement for the toy store notarized before he died, or if he forwarded the documents to his lawyer for review, or what. Patrick says he doesn’t have a copy of the purchase agreement. Depending on where it is and how far it has progressed, it may still be legally enforceable, which means Bea killed him for nothing.”

  He points in my face. “If Bea killed him, you mean.”

  “Right. If.”

  He looks away. Then he peeks at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’m glad you explained why you don’t suspect Mr. Stewart. I understand now.”

  I shuffle my feet. “Uh…look. I’m really sorry I called you a liar and a cheat. That was wrong.”

  “No, I was wrong to hide it from you. I should have told you the first time something came up. I should have trusted you. I’m sorry about that. It’s my fault we got so screwed up. I take full responsibility for it. You had every right to call me a liar and a cheat. I am one.”

  “No, you’re not,” I told him. “You’re a good person. Anybody in that situation would have done the same thing. I realize that now.”

  “I appreciate you saying so, but it doesn’t change anything, does it? We’re still back at square one, aren’t we?”

  I look away. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

  “Well.” He claps his hands again. “In that case, we better get cracking on this murder. You go pick Patrick Donohue’s brain, and I’ll go find out about Sheridan’s lawyer. I’ll see if I can locate the purchase agreement.” He starts to walk toward his car and looks back at me. “Thank you, Margaret.”

  “What for?”

  “For being a good friend,” he replies. “I appreciate you, and I value your judgment and your help. I just want you to know that.”

  He gets in his car and drives off. That conversation didn’t go the way I expected. It went a hundred times better than I ever dared to dream. He left before I could express my appreciation for him and his help, too, but I sure feel it now. I really hated the prospect of working on this case alone.

  While I stand there mulling it all over, Bea Donohue comes out of the toy store leading her dogs on their three identical leashes. With their skirt haircuts concealing their legs, the dogs appear to glide along the ground. They look like miniature aliens that move without legs.

  Bea passes me without saying anything. That alone would make me suspicious. Everyone in this town greets each other like family. Every other business owner on Main Street chats to me about murder cases and candy and community happenings. Bea would have no reason to avoid talking to me if she didn’t have something to hide.

  I swivel to watch her walk away. She goes to Mr. Stewart’s shop and leads her dogs inside. My stomach flips. So she takes her prize dogs to Mr. Stewart for grooming. If that’s the case, my whole theory about her using Floral Glow flies right out the window. There will be no record of her buying it or using it.

  She might still be the killer, though. She could still get Floral Glow-tainted dog hair on her clothes and on Mark’s suit. I buck up and make tracks for the toy store. I want to corner Patrick while Bea is out. Then she won’t catch wind that I’m prying about her.

  I breeze into the toy store like I’m on an outing with the church group. I find the counter deserted, just as I suspected. I ring the bell and holler through the back door. “Hello!”

  A few seconds later, Patrick appears. “Hello, Margaret. What can I help you with?”

  “Actually, I’m here to talk to Bea,” I lie. “Is she around?”

  “She just stepped out. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “As a matter of fact,” I begin, “I was hoping I could ask her something about those dogs of hers. I understand she competes with them and they win prizes and stuff. Do you know who does the grooming for the dogs?”

  “She does it all herself,” he replies. “She spends hours a day washing and brushing them and cutting their hair just so. During the competition season, it gets really ridiculous how much time and attention and stress she puts into those dogs. If I wasn’t such an easy-going and patient husband, I might even get a little jealous of the little beasts.”

  I laugh in spite of myself. “That’s odd. I could swear I saw her going into Mr. Stewart’s grooming parlor with them just the other day. I assumed he did the grooming for her, but I wasn’t sure so I wanted to ask her to be sure.”

  “Nope,” he clips. “She does it all herself. She goes in there sometimes if she wants a new comb or something and doesn’t want to wait for it to come in the mail.”

  “Okay. I understand now. Do you know what kind of soap she uses?”

  “Do I ever!” he exclaims. “She uses some poisonous goo called Floral Glow. I ought to know because I’m deathly allergic to the stuff. It stinks up the whole house and makes my eyes water. I swear I’ve almost suffocated from the fumes more than once, but she’ll never use anything else. She says it’s the best, and since all the other competitors are using it, she has to use it, too. That’s her excuse, anyway.”

  “Any idea where she orders it from?” I ask.

  “She gets it from some pet supply store in Hartford. We go down there once a month to buy bulk groceries from Costco. It saves running to Peterborough every time we want something.”

  “I don’t suppose she keeps a record of what she buys,” I venture. “Does she keep track of what she spends on the dogs?”

  “You better believe she does. She claims it all as a tax deduction for business expenses. She has the whole thing set up. She claims her competition winnings as income and offsets it with the expense she puts into taking care of the dogs. It’s a side business for her. She pays for the goods with a credit card linked to a separate bank account and keeps all the receipts.”

  I nod, but inside, I’m going crazy. This information is pure gold. If he’s right, all the Police have to do is get a warrant for her business records. We can prove she bought the dog shampoo on her business bank account. “Can you tell me the name of the store where she buys it?”

  “It’s called Animal Companions. It’s on Chelsea Boulevard in Hartford.”

  “Thank you, Patrick,” I tell him. “I appreciate your help. By the way, you haven’t heard from any of Mark Sheridan’s legal representatives, have you? They haven’t contacted you about the purchase agreement, have they?”

  “I haven’t heard a thing,” he replies. “I’m starting to think it might have gotten lost in transit somewhere.”

  “It could happen,” I tell him. “I’ve heard of some colossal paperwork screwups in the last few days.”

  I skedaddle out of there. I don’t want Bea to catch me questioning her oblivious husband.

  10

  I stop by the Baker’s Dozen and talk to Sabrina about her plans for the community market. We agree that she’ll canvas the residents of West End to drum up support. Meanwhile, I will contact Scott Freeman’s widow Sophie about the empty building. She inherited it from Scott, but I’m pretty sure she sold it—or at least tried to. She’ll tell me who owns it now. I need to talk to her anyway and find out how things are going for her down in Alabama with her mother.

  After I leave the bakery, I turn my steps toward the candy store to see how Zack is getting along. I nearly reach the door when I come face to face with David and that blonde woman walking side by side toward me.

  I freeze in my tracks. I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t even move aside to let them pass. David has a similar reaction. His eyes bug out of his head, and he stops in front of me.

  The woman f
rowns at me waiting for me to get out of the way. She has no idea what’s going on. For a painful moment, David and I stand transfixed and staring at each other in mute shock. My insides go numb and I can’t think.

  We might have stood there all day without moving if Zack didn’t come out right at that moment. “Hey, Mom, I’m glad you’re here. Could you come help me out with something real quick? Oh, hi, Detective.”

  I break out of my trance and hurry into the candy store. I get inside and turn to the window to see David and the blonde walking on. They go to the bakery and disappear into it. I drift into a daze again.

  David is moving on with his life the same way I am. He’s associating with people I don’t know and talking to them about subjects of which I’m not a part. I can’t share those things and relationships and subjects.

  Zack startles me out of my wits. “Are you okay, Mom? Who was that woman with Detective Graham?”

  I whip around. “Huh? Oh, I don’t know. Now what did you want me to look at?”

  He leads the way to the counter. “I found an accounting error with that order we just received. The supplier double-charged you for the Laffy Taffy. I called them up and they said they would credit us for our next order.”

  I blink at him. “Is that all?”

  “Yeah. I just wanted you to know. I wanted to get your approval that I handled it on my own. I didn’t want you to come back later and say I kept it from you or something.”

  I smack my lips in annoyance. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to get my approval for things like that. Just handle it. We’re supposed to be partners.”

  “I just wanted to be sure. I wanted you to know what was going on with the store. After all, it is your store.”

  I put my arms around him. I never felt so good to have him as a son. I thank the stars I’m not facing this transition away from David by myself. I have so many good, loving people around me, and Zack is the most precious of them all.

  “Thank you, sweetie. Thank you for handling it. That’s one less thing I have to worry about. I’m so glad you can take care of these things on your own. I mean that.”