by Katie Hagen
Peter leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I think she means mince words.”
Undeterred, Frannie continued, “She did every little thing she could to bring us all down and that nephew of hers…” she made a rude hand gesture toward the wall.
Carlie came over to stand on the other side of me. “You ready to go?”
“Carlie! She’s in the middle of a speech,” I glanced at Frannie who was swaying back and forth, dancing without music. “Or something.”
Carlie groaned.
I looked past where she stood to see Sofia peering at me beneath her thick, dark lashes.
“Hey! Where’d the music go?” Frannie asked suddenly.
“Yes,” Sofia added. “Musica, musica. Please,” she pointed to Peter who turned the knob back up. The song was in Italian, but the style was still familiar. It reminded me of swing music.
Doc reached out for Carlie’s hand once more and she curtsied before joining him, apparently revived by the song.
“Shall we?” Peter asked with a sort of princely half grin.
Picklepuss whined at my feet.
“Shoot. I think she needs to go out actually. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll catch you another time,” he winked.
Once back in the garden, I let Picklepuss down to wander, but I made sure to keep her leash in my hand while I checked my phone.
The sound of music and laughter filtered through the door and moonlight lit the garden space. Picklepuss sniffed around until she found a space to squat as I scrolled through the endlessness of social media.
In the relative quiet I heard a shuffling. Somewhere close feet drug across the earth. Picklepuss finished her business and ran behind my ankles, growling with her tail between her legs.
“Hello?” I whispered.
I heard shuffling again, quicker now and my throat felt dry.
Slowly, I walked backward toward the door, afraid to turn around and leave myself exposed.
When I’d reached the handle, a man emerged from behind the mushroom wall.
He stared at me from behind a pair of dark rimmed glasses. A few mushrooms teetered and then fell from a basket hung from the bend of his arm. He didn’t attempt to pick them up but continued, instead, to stare.
I went to turn the handle but realized too late that it was locked.
The man came further out and Picklepuss growled louder.
He wasn’t the type of man I’d normally be wary of. Short men in old concert t-shirts over tan corduroy pants didn’t tend to put off a dangerous vibe. But still, there was something about the way he stared at me that had me wondering if I could make it to the street and if anyone would be there to see me if I did. Glaney pretty much shut down on weeknights after 6. He could strangle me in the middle of the street if he wanted and no one would even notice until the shop owners showed up in the morning.
Before I could even consider running, he crept toward me.
“I guess I didn’t get the invite,” he said in a low, gravelly voice.
“Well come on then,” I moved my fist toward the door. “I’ll just knock, and we can get you right in there.” To where people are. People that might notice if I was being murdered. I hoped.
“No!” He snapped. “Just let them have their fun.” I watched with terror as he moved his gaze toward Picklepuss.
“They’re probably missing me in there. I should get back inside.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he smiled shyly. I felt myself relax a little then wondered if that was exactly as he planned it.
“Well…you’re you and I’m me, and as me…I should probably…”
“How did I know I’d find you here?” Ashley Trull’s voice came around the corner before she did. I tried to keep myself from feeling happy to see her.
“Were you looking for me?” I asked with one eye still on the man in the shirt that I could now see featured dates from Nirvana’s Nevermind tour.
“Well,” she slithered closer. “I was here for a noise disturbance…”
“It was much louder before,” the man slunk backward and began gathering the fallen mushrooms.
“I’m sure it was,” Sheriff Trull smirked at him. “But this is so much better.”
Ashley’s gaze bore into my eyes until she broke away and looked down at Picklepuss.
“Vic?”
Vic? She nodded toward my would-be attacker. So, this is Vic Perring.
Vic stood upright and came to stand in front of Ashley like a puppy. He practically panted. He definitely didn’t seem frightening anymore, a little sickening maybe.
“Vic, are you aware that Miss. Davis here is a suspect in your aunt’s murder?”
Vic looked at me, wide eyed and adjusted his glasses. He made no indication whether or not he knew about Sheriff Trull’s insane suspicions.
Ashley Trull blazed forward anyway.
“And did you know that she seems to be in possession of your now deceased aunt’s missing poodle?”
“I think he gets it, Ashley. His aunt died. I took Picklepuss with me after your ridiculous interrogation because no one seemed to give a flying fig about the fact that a little dog was obviously traumatized. Maybe more than I was.”
Ashley stomped her tiny foot. “I told you it’s Sheriff Trull!”
I ignored her outburst and tapped my own foot on the dirt.
“Vic!” she snapped then plastered a smile back on her face. “As this animal was your aunt’s and you are her next of kin, and since Miss Davis just admitted to the crime, then should I assume you want to…”
Vic looked at the dog then at me with a hint of panic. “I don’t want the dog. If that’s what you’re asking.”
I felt relief wash over me and I wasn’t even sure why. I surely couldn’t keep her. My apartment back in L.A didn’t allow pets.
“No,” Ashley frowned then rubbed her temple. “Kit Davis stole your property. I assume you want to do something about that. Like press charges?”
Vic looked at me over the top of his glasses. I could tell he wanted to say no. Maybe he wasn’t half bad after all.
“Ashley, he doesn’t want Picklepuss. I can hold on to her for now. Until we find a good place for her. Does that work for you, Vic?”
Vic started to nod but then looked at Ashley. Slowly his yes turned to a no. “I want to…”
“Press,” Ashley said slowly.
“Charges?” Vic completed the sentence. “I want to press charges?”
“Well if we must!” Ashley grabbed me a little too rough by the forearm and led me out of the garden.
Twenty minutes later I sat down hard on a cold cement bench. I was told the pads that usually sat on top of them were out for cleaning, but it seemed more likely that Ashley the troll had them removed before she dragged me into the cell.
She actually placed me behind bars. Well, me and Picklepuss. At least we were alone. Not a lot of crime happening on a Monday night in Glaney I guessed. I also assumed that most prisoners weren’t allowed to keep animals, especially when the animal in question also happens to be the stolen item that got the prisoner thrown in the slammer to begin with.
I looked down at the little grey poodle as she plopped her rump onto my lap. “I like you,” I told her, “but I’m not sure you’re worth all this.”
Picklepuss looked up at me and panted. “I know. We’ll be out of here soon.” At least I hoped that was true.
The party was still going strong when I’d stepped out. It would probably be hours before they would notice I was gone. Eventually, Carlie would go back to the apartment and if she didn’t pass out right away, she might notice I was missing.
Peter, I guessed, would notice. Or at least I hoped he would. But he didn’t know me, not really. He probably thought I just went home.
I hadn’t been offered a phone call, but I wasn’t sure who I’d call anyway. Probably Tom, but then he’d tell my mother and she’d have to make a sign and come down here and protest. It would be a whole thi
ng. I didn’t have the energy.
Suddenly a door at the end of the hallway slammed and a herd of footsteps made their way toward my cell.
I sat on my bench and waited, keeping my eyes down until they were standing in front of me which was an old modeling trick. That way I could look up and dazzle them with my doe eyed innocence at just the right moment.
One, two, three, I counted in my head and then looked up.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Mayor Trull sighed. Bingo.
Several people surrounded him including two officers, a couple yes-men, one mousy secretary and Sheriff Ashley Trull who groaned out, “Oh please.”
Mayor Trull placed his hands on his hips and turned to face her. “Oh, please is right young lady. Open that door right now then get back to work.”
Ashley stomped her foot then shot an exasperated look to one of the officers when he didn’t read her mind and immediately open the cell door.
Before she left, her father cupped her face in his hands and smiled. “Now you stop fooling around and solve this crime. Do you hear me?”
The officers shot each other a smirk. Ashley’s cheeks burned red, but she nodded. Pleased, Mayor Trull let her go and she stomped away with the two officers on her heels, elbowing each other the whole way. Then he turned to me.
I stood and held Picklepuss to my chest and let Mayor Trull lead me by the elbow from my cell. He smelled like old spice and bourbon. I tried to keep my steps slow, so I didn’t seem too eager to escape prison. I didn’t want him to change his mind about freeing me.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Oh,” I slowed up even more. All I really wanted to do was to get back to the apartment.
“It’s the least I can do after my daughter got a little trigger happy,” he laughed. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do with that girl.”
“I’ve got a few ideas,” I muttered and when it became clear that he hadn’t heard me clearly, I just shrugged and allowed myself to be led to the mayor’s office.
Conveniently, his office was in the building adjacent to the Glaney jail/courthouse and connected by a little covered walkway. We stopped for a minute there and let Picklepuss relieve herself on the grass before heading into the old stone and brick building.
I felt my eyes growing heavier with each step forward. Maybe it was the beige carpet…or the beige walls. The building was definitely in need of a few upgrades or at least a good designer.
“Do you like it?” The mayor noticed me checking out the drab hallways. “We just had it all redone last year.”
I coughed. “Oh yeah, I thought it looked different.”
The building was empty at the late hour except for the couple employees who’d come to my cell that had probably been dragged out of bed to free me from false imprisonment. The little assistant glared as the mayor ushered me into his private office and closed the door.
The mayor’s office was painted a dark blue with historical photos of Glaney hung neatly in a row. His desk was made from a dark wood and took up nearly half the space in the room. Two chairs sat across from it. I took a seat on one of them and Mayor Trull handed me a glass and a coaster and settled into a large leather office chair behind the desk.
As it turned out, when the mayor said tea what he meant was bourbon. I wasn’t mad at all about the switch up.
“So, Kit Davis, I have to apologize again for my daughter. I spoke with Vic Perring and I see no reason why you shouldn’t hang on to the pup for now.” He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. Even though he was wearing a jacket, I could see his belly protruding a bit from beneath his t-shirt. He wasn’t my kind of guy, but not unattractive either. Kind of dad-bod hot.
“It’s what Kitty would have done after all,” he continued. “And as far as you as a suspect? Ridiculous. I made sure Ashley knew that she was barking up the wrong tree!” The mayor coughed out a laugh and slapped himself in the knee. Dad jokes. Cool.
“Thank you so much for saying that, Mayor.” Feeling more relaxed I took a sip of the bourbon and let it trickle warmth down my throat and into my stomach.
The mayor put his elbows on the desk and watched me curiously. “I have to ask though. What were you doing at Vicki Perring’s house anyway?”
“Oh, that.” I took another sip then put my cup back on the coaster. “I was bringing her a refund. Apparently, she wasn’t too happy with her last grooming and Kitty left a note to return the fee. Now that I’m technically the owner, it didn’t feel right to just keep it. That’s not what Kitty wanted.”
Mayor Trull nodded. “Well that’s just good business.”
I shrugged. “To be perfectly honest I didn’t really want Vicki Perring’s business anyway, and I intended to tell her that. I just wanted to end it with a clean slate, you know?”
“I understand. It makes perfect sense,” he smiled. “And the man that was with you, the neighbor?”
I nodded. “He saw me outside with Picklepuss,” I pointed to where she was laying on his rug, “and he was just trying to help me get her back inside. I don’t think he had anything to do with it either, if that’s what you were thinking.”
Mayor Trull shook his head. “Well I’ve seen the report and I agree with you. You’re a very smart girl, Kit.”
I shrugged again and felt my daddy issues coming to the surface. Older men complimenting me always made me feel small and insecure, like I had something to prove. I had the urge to draw him a picture.
Luckily he stood, breaking my daddy-issue smell. “I’ve been telling Ashley from the beginning that it’s usually family with these things, someone she had a close relationship with. It’s unfortunate really but I think that for Vicki there was only one person she was ever close to.”
I stood up and gathered Picklepuss into my arms again. “Vic.”
Mayor Trull put one finger on his nose. “I’m sure Ashley and the rest of them will get it all sorted out. No need to worry yourself much more over it.”
He opened the door and waved me through before adding, “Besides, you’ve probably got to get back to L.A. soon anyway.”
I smiled politely, thanked the mayor for the drink, and crept past his assistant as she continued to try to pierce my soul with her eyes.
“Hold on,” she called out before I’d made it past. “I’ll have to let you out. I JUST locked up.”
I waited for her to fish the keys out of her desk and meet me before we both started walking.
“Sorry to keep you so late,” I said when we got to the door.
She sighed and held the door for me. “It’s fine. I just…” she leaned in a little and glanced back down the hall. “I kind of had a date.”
“Oh. If it makes you feel better, I was kind of on a date when I got arrested so…”
“Ouch,” she smiled. “Awkward.”
“Yeah, well. It’s kind of my thing.” I shrugged and waved goodbye as she locked the door behind me. I guess that explains the daggers.
I made it to the parking lot before realizing that I’d been driven there in the back of a police car. I looked over to the station and wondered if I could sweet talk an officer into driving me home without Ashley Trull noticing. Then I heard a whistle.
Chapter 6
The parking lot was very poorly lit for a city building and I stared into the darkness at the shape of a man. After a few tense seconds the clouds that had been covering the moon shifted and Jordan Parker stepped into the light.
Muttering to myself about stinking small town gossip I walked directly to the car and climbed inside. Jordan slipped in next to me and started the engine.
“So, I guess you heard?”
Jordan fiddled with the radio dial and then the heater and seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid answering my question.
“Jordan look at me!” I demanded.
He did. But then I saw how his lips were curled up and his eyes seemed to be watering.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned
him before his body started convulsing with laughter. I crossed my arms across my chest and Picklepuss whined nervously.
“It’s not funny, Jordan. I was arrested. I had to sit on a cold bench in a jail cell.”
Jordan laughed even harder.
“They think I stole a murdered woman’s dog!”
I bit my lip but couldn’t hold back the laughter that was rising. Finally, I gave in and laughed with him until my eyes watered.
“Just take me home please,” I wheezed when we both finished and were able to breathe again.
As he pulled out of the parking spot and passed by the jail, I saw Ashley Trull standing in the shadows, her face lit up by the cell phone in her hand. Just before we were out of sight she looked up and her mouth dropped open.
“Crap, she saw us,” I muttered as we pulled out of the lot.
“Who?”
“The troll.”
Jordan’s body tensed as he scanned the rear view.
“It’s not illegal to give someone a ride, Jordan,” I sighed. “I just feel like she’s always watching. It’s like we’re back in high school again. She was so desperate.”
Jordan kept glancing in the mirror until the road turned and the jail disappeared behind us.
The radio played soft nineties hits which only slightly helped to alleviate the awkwardness that seemed to have settled in the car.
“So, the car is nice.” My voice came out cracked. I cleared my throat and continued. “It’s one of Tom’s, right?”
“It was,” he smiled. “It’s sure a lot nicer than the jeep huh?”
I ran my hand over the dash. “The jeep wasn’t so bad,” I admitted.
Jordan smiled sheepishly. There were very few memories of our teenage romance that didn’t include that jeep. I felt my cheeks flush a little and cracked the window. Reminiscing might be fun, but I had no intention of reliving those moments.
Jordan drove with one hand on the wheel and rested his other on the thin patch of seat between us. “So, besides the murder and the jail thing, are you happy to be back?”