Dogs, Lies, and Alibis

by Wendy Delaney

  “Of course we do. Chah-maine, take the next right and let’s show it to your grandmother.”

  The last Boynton house painting crew member I’d seen in town had been at Colt’s funeral, so I didn’t see how a drive-by could hurt. “Okay.” But if a black Cougar was parked in the vicinity, Gram had better not blink, because this drive-by was going to set a land speed record.

  “Oh, no. They’re changing that pretty burgundy to a deeper plum.” Marietta clucked her tongue. “Whatever for?”

  I didn’t care. I was more concerned about who had arrived in the white cargo van parked out front.

  Gram leaned in to look through the windshield. “A little more contrast, I guess.”

  “Stop the car, Chah-maine,” Marietta commanded.

  I only saw the one painter who had given me the car repair advice last week. A team of one certainly could have been dispatched to re-paint the trim, but with a house this size, I doubted it. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Bassett’s is going to close soon and—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We can stop for two minutes so that your grandmother can get a good look at the place.”

  “Fine.” I pulled to a stop across the street from the van. “But let’s stay in the car. We don’t need any more complaints about trespassing.”

  “Now, you’re just being a stick in the mud,” my mother retorted, climbing out of the back seat.

  Gram reached across me to lower the driver’s side window. “Mary Jo, where do you think you’re going?”

  Crossing the street, Marietta raised an index finger. “I’ll be back in a flash. I’m just going to ask this gentleman a quick question.”

  Criminy, Mom, I thought, scrambling after her. Now was not the time to be hanging around, asking questions.

  “Yoo-hoo, sir?” Marietta sang out as she approached where the painter was working on the front door trim. “Ah know you’re busy, but may Ah interrupt you for a brief moment?”

  Turning, he smiled politely. “Okay.”

  “Is there a problem with the burgundy paint other than the cullah?”

  He knit his brow as if he were having difficulty understanding her rapid-fire southern accent. “Qué?”

  “The reason I’m asking about the color change is that I have a friend…” Marietta said, trying again without the fake accent. “Well, truth be told, more than a friend who’ll be painting his house soon and—”

  “Rusty!” he yelled, sounding a plea for rescue from a crazy woman.

  Crap, I didn’t want Rusty Naylor to see me here again.

  She touched the base of her throat. “Oh, dear. I didn’t mean to cause a fuss.”

  Maybe not, but this fuss had just grown to dangerous proportions.

  I hooked her arm to pull her back to the safety of the car. “We need to leave—now.”

  She shook me off. “Chah-maine, puh-lease. We can’t just up and leave. I’m in the middle of something here.”

  And I was going to be in big trouble with Steve if he got wind that Marietta and I had returned to the scene of our not-quite crime.

  “Hello,” she said, extending her hand to Rusty Naylor as he rounded the corner of the house. “I’m Marietta Moreau.”

  “Whoa, wasn’t expecting to hear that today.” Grinning, he pulled a rag from a back pocket and wiped his hand. “I’m Rusty.” He bowed ever so slightly as he pressed his palm against hers. “I used to watch your movies when I was a little kid.”

  She puckered as if his words had left a sour taste in her mouth. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing.”

  His smile stretched from ear to ear. Clearly, he hadn’t felt the sting of her jibe. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Mah daughtah,” she said, pulling me by my sleeve, “was just showin’ me and my mama your excellent craftsmanship with this lovely Victorian.”

  Rusty waved at someone behind me, and my heart sank to the pit of my churning stomach when I turned to see my grandmother.

  “I was hoping you’d wait in the car,” I whispered.

  She sniffed with disdain. “Why should you two have all the fun?”

  Some fun.

  “As I was telling your co-worker,” Marietta said, fanning her hand in the direction of the guy who had returned to painting the door trim. “I was concerned that there might have been a problem with the paint that you’re replacing because I had recommended it to someone who will soon be painting his house.”

  Rusty shook his head. “No problem other than the owner changing her mind about the color after she was sent some pictures by my boss.”

  Pictures? That could only be because of one reason. “She’s not in town, then?”

  “Traveling overseas, I think,” he said.

  That explained why I hadn’t seen anyone other than a neighbor around to chase us away. Unfortunately, it also made her home more vulnerable to burglars and thieves like Rusty. Assuming Glenn Ferguson hadn’t already sold the owner a security system.

  Gram tilted her head at the stately Victorian as if she were admiring an oil landscape at one of the local art galleries. “Well, they say a woman is entitled to change her mind, but if it were up to me I would have stuck with the burgundy.”

  Rusty nodded. “Me too, lady. But I just paint the color I’m told.”

  She glanced back at the cargo van. “There’s no name on your vehicle back there. If you don’t mind me asking, who are you with?”

  “Your granddaughter must not have passed along the business card I gave her,” he said, fixing me with a stone-cold stare while he fished another card from his breast pocket.

  I smiled sweetly. “Sorry about that. Must have slipped my mind.”

  Gram tucked the business card into her handbag. “No matter. I’ve got it now, and I’ll be sure to give you a call. Especially since your company has come so highly recommended.”

  I didn’t want her to mention who had provided the recommendation, so I stepped between them to break up this Victorian decor appreciation session. “Okay, it’s time to let these gentlemen get back to work.”

  After waiting for Marietta and Gram to say their good-byes, I hung back to lock gazes with Rusty for what I hoped would be the last time. “Don’t even think about bringing your business to my grandmother’s house.”

  He stood very still as if he were trying to project a calm demeanor. “My business? I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about.”

  His dilated eyes suggested otherwise.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I said, wishing that I sounded more commanding and less like Marietta arguing with an ex-husband.

  Lips parted, his gaze tightened.

  With the satisfaction that my message had been received, I marched back to the car.

  “Now, wasn’t that worth stopping for?” Marietta asked as I slid behind the wheel.

  While Gram nodded with agreement, my pulse roared in my ears like a freight train. Because I might have just caused Steve’s case to run off the rails.

  * * *

  After George Bassett Senior escorted Gram and Marietta to his office fifteen minutes later, I sat in my idling car and listened for the cowbell.

  “You can sit there all day,” Georgie said, leaning in through my open window. “But you’re not gonna hear anything other than an engine purring like a kitten. For now, anyway.”

  Turning off the ignition, I climbed out of the Jaguar. “What do you mean ‘for now’?”

  He stroked the front fender as if it belonged to a living, breathing feline. “She’s a finicky one, especially with all the miles she’s got on her. Always gonna demand a lot of TLC.”

  If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was describing my mother. “That sounds expensive.”

  “Sorry, Chow Mein. It’s pretty much standard operating procedure with this kind of car.”

  Which meant that my ex-husband’s pride and joy was going to slowly bleed me dry.

  “I’ve had someone approach m
e about buying it.” Since Eric Caldwell was Colt’s cousin, I thought it best if I didn’t use any names. “Maybe I should ask him to make me an offer before something else goes wrong.”

  “You might want to let me fix that door problem then, so that you can get top dollar.”

  I didn’t need a bigger repair bill than I already had. “Let me talk to the guy and get back to you on that.”

  “Okay.” Georgie pointed his big work boots in the direction of the office. “Want to settle up?”

  “Sure, but…” Before I wrote him a painfully large check, I needed to take advantage of this alone time. “Could we talk for a minute?”

  “If it’s about my case,” he said, shaking his head. “I got nothin’ to say.”

  “Then you can just listen to me.”

  “Char, I don’t think—”

  “Dog, will you please shut your mouth and listen?”

  With cheeks ablaze, he folded his beefy arms and made a pouty face like a giant toddler given a time out.

  “I can’t give you any details, but I think there’s going to be a big break in your case really soon.”

  His jaw went slack as he sucked up all the oxygen in the immediate vicinity. “Did you get this from Steve?”

  Heck, no. “He never discusses open investigations with me, and nothing is official yet. But I want you to know that there are some things brewing that are going to clear you of all the charges.” Assuming that my big mouth hadn’t damaged the brewing process.

  Georgie’s face split into a goofy grin. “You serious?”

  “Yeah, I’m serious.”

  “When?”

  That I couldn’t tell him. “I don’t know, but hang in there, big guy. We’re trying to get you out of this mess.”

  “I knew it!” Wrapping me in a bear hug, he lifted me off my feet. “Thank you.”

  Balancing myself against his grease-stained chest as he lowered me to the ground, we both looked down at the black smudges on the pink knit tunic I was wearing.

  “Oh, man,” he said, grimacing, “I slimed you.”

  I gave him another big squeeze. “It was worth it.” And then some, just to see Little Dog smile. “Just do me a favor and don’t say anything about this to anyone.” Especially Steve.

  “Okay, but that’s gonna be tough.”

  “You’ve come this far.” I extended my hand. “Now shake on it and promise me that you’ll continue to follow your attorney’s advice and not discuss this with anybody. But me, of course.”

  “Deal,” he said, pumping my arm with his greasy paw. “Want to go in and pay up now? I think your mom’s antsy to go to dinner.”

  “Sure, but I may have to clean up a little first.”

  He handed me a rag. “Sorry again about the shirt.”

  “Yeah? Want to take a few bucks off my bill to replace it?”

  He grinned. “I’m not that sorry.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  AFTER AN INTERMINABLY long dinner with my nervous mother, Gram took her home to await the arrival of Mr. Ferris after his air-clearing date with Renee.

  I needed to have an air-clearing session of my own and headed across the street to talk to a cop about a case I wasn’t supposed to involve myself in.

  “Whatever you’re selling, I want some,” Steve said the instant his door swung open.

  Taking a deep breath to bolster my faltering courage, I stepped inside. “We’ll see if you feel that way in a few minutes.”

  He followed me into the living room. “Not what I was hoping you’d say.”

  As much as I didn’t want to see his face when I delivered my news, I planted my butt in an overstuffed chair opposite the chocolate brown sectional I knew Steve preferred.

  “Sorry to take you away from the game,” I said, glancing at the flat screen television blaring in the corner.

  “Never mind that.” He took a seat across from me and clicked off the TV. “Let’s hear it.”

  “I’ve done something bad.”

  “Care to elaborate on that?”

  Not especially. “You know that Victorian on J Street being painted by someone who you didn’t want me to talk to?”

  The tic at his jawline counting down to an explosion answered for him.

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I said some things to Rusty Naylor today.”

  Steve hung his head. “Why is it so hard for you to follow simple instructions?”

  “I know. I know. You have every reason to be mad, but after Gram practically hired the guy on the spot, I had to make sure that he understood that I was onto that scheme he has going with Glenn Ferguson.”

  Frowning, Steve scrubbed his face. “Just tell me exactly what you said.”

  “I warned Naylor not to bring his business to her house.”

  The crease between Steve’s brows eased. “That’s it?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “No other names came up?”

  “No, I told you, that’s all I said.”

  “How’d he act after you gave him your warning?”

  “Confused but also a little scared, because I made it sound like I was one step away from making a citizen’s arrest.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you were really scary.”

  I bolted upright. “Hey, I can be plenty scary. And if you don’t think I got his attention, think again.”

  Steve pushed off the sectional and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m sure he got the message loud and clear to stay away from your granny’s house.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said, feeling the tight coil of tension in my chest starting to unfurl. “I thought you were going to be furious with me.”

  “Who says I’m not?”

  Pushing him away, I studied his face. “Nope, I’ve seen angry on you before. This isn’t it.”

  His laugh lines crinkled despite his effort to maintain a respectable scowl. “I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.”

  “Now I’m the one who’s confused,” I said, trying to read him.

  “All will be clear soon enough.”

  “Says you.”

  After a brief kiss, Steve held me at arm’s length. “Just don’t do something bad again.”

  “I promise I won’t do anything bad tonight. And since you’re being so nice about this, maybe even tomorrow.”

  “Well, let’s not be too hasty about tonight,” he said, slowly unbuttoning my tunic.

  Just when I wished his fingers would work a little faster, his gaze narrowed and he pulled me toward a table lamp for closer inspection. “What’d you get on this?”

  “You don’t want to know.” And I didn’t want to tell him.

  “It looks like grease. You haven’t been moonlighting with Little Dog, have you?”

  “Hardly. Although I may have to think about getting a second job if he keeps handing me repair bills like the one I got today.”

  “Poor you.” Steve’s eyes darkened as he pulled my tunic over my head in one smooth motion. “If only I could think of something we could do to take your mind off your troubles.”

  I linked my fingers with his and led the way to his bedroom. “Come on, you’ve tortured me long enough.

  “Trust me, Chow Mein. Your night of torture has just begun.”

  * * *

  The next afternoon, while driving back from serving a subpoena on a pissed-off Clatska tavern owner needed at an upcoming trial, I received an unwelcome summons of my own from my mother.

  You’re needed at home.

  “Again?” I tossed my cell phone onto the passenger seat. “Whatever’s going on, just deal with it and count me out.”

  No more than a minute passed before my phone started ringing.

  I knew she’d keep calling until I picked up, so I pulled over near the turnoff for Gibson Lake to take the call. “What’s so important that can’t wait an hour for me to get there?”

  “Actually,” replied a woman with a soft voice. “I’m calling about the dog you have f
or sale.”

  What part of FREE DOG on each one of the signs I’d posted did she not understand? “Not for sale. He’s free.”

  “Excellent. I have someone who would love to meet him. Would you be available to meet later this evening, maybe at the dog park kiosk?”

  “Definitely. What time?”

  After a brief pause with some muffled voices in the background, she responded with, “How about seven-thirty?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you there.”

  After disconnecting, I sat in my blessedly quiet car while I waited for my eyes to stop burning with tears, because what I had just agreed to wasn’t so perfect.

  It was going to break Lily’s heart.

  * * *

  “You took your time getting here,” Marietta groused when I stepped through my grandmother’s back door a few minutes before six.

  I wasn’t in the mood to be sniped at. “Some of us have jobs, you know.”

  “Excuse me, but I have something you need to see.”

  Somehow I doubted I’d find it as interesting as she did.

  Waving me over to the kitchen table where she was sitting with Gram, my mother handed me her smart phone. “Read this email I received today.”

  Gram scooted her chair back. “I’ve already had the pleasure, so I’m gonna start dinner.” She pointed at me. “You staying or am I eating alone?”

  “I can stay for a while. I have to meet someone at the dog park before it closes.”

  “About Fozzie?” Gram asked.

  Marietta tapped her phone. “You can talk about that animal later. Barry is coming to pick me up any minute, so read.”

  Heaving a sigh, Gram started rooting around in her refrigerator, and I turned my attention to my required reading of the day.

  I recognized the sender’s name—Annette Lazenby, one of Marietta’s Peachtree Girls co-stars. “Blah, blah, blah. Daughter’s having a baby. That’s nice.” And made me feel like everyone I was remotely associated with was busy getting married or having babies.

  My mother wagged a finger at me. “Keep reading.”

  “Okay,” I said scanning the newsy message for salient details. “So, Annette’s worried about her daughter giving birth the same weekend as some wedding she’s traveling to.” I looked up from the tiny text that was straining my eyes. “Is that it, or is there some hidden meaning lurking between the lines?”