by Katie Hagen
“Can you two please get out of the way, we have paramedics coming through,” Ashley directed with her hand on Vic’s pulse and her eyes on her watch.
The first responders came tramping down the stairs and I heard another howl, this one much higher pitched. Carlie and I ran up the stairs. In the moonlight of the garden I saw Peter skid to a stop with Charlie at his side and Picklepuss in his arms. She wiggled herself free and came running toward me. I met her at the door.
“How did you know we were here?” I asked Peter in between licks from the distraught poodle.
Peter took a second to catch his breath before answering. “The boys’ father came to pick them up and he told me…he told me about Frannie. The real Frannie. I went to your place and found this little girl barking her head off. From there we just followed the howling. Kit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she was that bad.”
Jordan came around the corner looking concerned and Carlie jogged over to meet him.
“But you knew something?” I asked him. “Was that why you trying to keep me away from Vic? I thought you were protecting me.”
“I was, but I didn’t know she was dangerous. Frannie was my friend. I told her I’d keep you busy while she worked things out with Vic. She told me they were dating.”
I backed up. “You told her you’d keep me busy? What is this, the plot of every teen romantic comedy ever?”
“Kit, don’t take it like that. It’s not like I didn’t want to.”
“Oh!” I yelled, shifting Picklepuss in my arms. “I’m so glad you had a good time on your little project, Peter George. You gave your friend just enough space to commit one murder and try for four. Good job!”
Peter tried to take my arm, but I pulled away.
“You can’t possibly believe that I knew about that,” he said sincerely.
“Is there a problem here?” Jordan came to my side and put his hand on my shoulder. Him I let touch me. Peter looked wounded.
“I’m fine, Jordan. Just a little tired.”
The paramedics came out with Vic on a stretcher and we all moved for them to pass. His eyes were open and when they met mine, he smiled.
Ashley came up behind them, took one look at Jordan and frowned. His hand left my shoulder immediately.
“I guess I should thank you,” she said dryly.
I waited, but no apology came. I guess that might have been asking too much of her. I let it go.
Peter lingered with Charlie, but I didn’t waste another second on him. As good as he looked standing there all romantically lit and boy-next-door handsome, I just didn’t have the energy.
Carlie took my arm and we followed Ashley and Jordan toward main street, leaving Peter behind.
While still in the alley she whispered, “That thing you said about not being able to move on. That was just something you made up, right? It didn’t have anything to do with…?” She nodded toward Jordan Parker who was nuzzling his stubbly bearded face into Ashley’s skinny neck as they walked arm in arm.
“Carlie! He’s going to be someone’s father.”
Carlie squinted at me but let the question go. Her confidence in my morality was astounding.
While we walked, I felt the adrenaline leaving my body. I hardly noticed the crowd gathering on main street, but I heard their whispers echoing in my head all the way back home.
When the house was dark, and Carlie had climbed into bed, I looked out over the water. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “The sun’s coming up tomorrow, Kitty.”
In the morning I shot straight up in my bed. The stray. I’d forgotten to check on him. I threw on my slippers, rushed past Carlie and Picklepuss and down the back stairs. In the woods I found the nest but no sign of the dog. “Dang,” I whispered. I whistled a few times but got nothing in response. With my head hung low I came back out of the brush and found Carlie in her pajamas walking Picklepuss.
“You really are the worst dog owner,” she told me.
“Well, good thing I have you then.”
We both watched the little dog dance around the edges of the parking lot, finally squatting down to do her business.
“Do you think we’ll have any appointments today?” I asked.
“We better. We almost got killed for this town.”
“Ha! I almost got killed. You were fine.”
Carlie rolled her eyes.
Upstairs we all ate some breakfast and changed. Carlie and I put on our jeans and our t-shirts and brushed our teeth over the sink. Our eyes met as we spit.
“So, is it going to be like this every morning?” She complained.
I tossed my toothbrush into the glass jar by the sink. “Nope. I’m the boss. I’ll probably sleep in.”
Carlie elbowed me in the ribs.
Kitty’s clock meowed seven. Together we went down to the shop and found that Beverly wasn’t in her usual spot at her grooming table. Picklepuss ran to the front gate and whined.
We found her in front as she was hanging up the phone. “See you Tuesday.” She jotted something down in the appointment book and I moved closer to check it out.
Tuesday was nearly full, as was the rest of the week. “Wow, you’ve been busy! But what’s this?” I asked her, feeling a little misty-eyed but wondering why she’d pushed out all the appointments. “We could have taken a lot of these today.”
“We’ve got plans today.” She closed the book and picked up Picklepuss.
“So, am I not flipping this sign?” Carlie asked from the lobby.
“Nope.”
“Beverly, what could we possibly have to do today?” The murder was solved. It was time to get back to work. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on some clippers.
“This town has been through too much to just move on like nothing happened,” she smiled sadly. “First, we need to grieve.”
“The funeral? But isn’t Vic in the hospital?”
“I heard he was released this morning,” Carlie came over and leaned on the counter facing us.
I sighed. “You guys really want to do this?”
Beverly nodded and Carlie shrugged.
“Fine,” I smiled. “But I’m changing first.”
The funeral was at ten, so I had just enough time to shower, straighten my hair, do my full makeup for the first time in days, and slip into my black silk jumpsuit and a faux leather jacket.
“Ooh, are we going to a funeral or taking new photos for your Instagram profile?”
“Umm, both?” I laughed and struck a pose. “It’s the only black thing I brought with me. Is that what you’re wearing?”
Carlie shrugged. She was wearing a sheer black sweater with a tank underneath and a pair of black jeggings. “Sorry, I’m not fancy like you.”
I shrugged back. “I forgive you.”
Picklepuss wiggled at my feet. “And I’ve got something for you sweet baby girl.” I picked her up and snapped a black lace ribbon on the top of her head.
“You’re taking the dog?”
“Of course,” I smiled and grabbed my purse with Picklepuss tucked under my arm. “She goes great with my outfit.”
We all piled into Tom’s blue Chevy and rode to the graveside service which was held at a small cemetery behind the town’s fairgrounds. The sky was clear but earlier rain had muddied the little dirt path. I carried Picklepuss in my arms to avoid getting her little feet muddy and tried to keep to the grassy edges myself. Carlie clomped ahead of me in black lace up converse and Beverly held her arm for support.
When the trail cleared, we noticed right away that there was a parking lot on the other side of the cemetery, and no one had taken the treacherous path but us.
“Figures,” I grumbled and finally put Picklepuss down.
Henry came barreling toward us but slowed when he got near and took Beverly by the arm, nodding in my direction. I tipped my invisible hat at him.
Carlie and I found seats in folding chairs and watched the service quietly. Picklepuss seemed to sense the energy in the cem
etery as she didn’t whine once but sat calmly on my lap instead. Vic sat in the front row with Roberta Frond. I was glad he had someone to lean on.
“Where’s Sam?” I whispered to Carlie.
“She’s still in the hospital but I hear she’s going to be ok.”
I smiled. Maybe Vic would get his happy ending after everything was said and done.
When it was over, I took some time to walk around at the cemetery while everyone else made their way back to their cars and over to the Glaney Community Hall. Beverly rode with Henry and Carlie went to get the car for, and I quote, her royal highness. I could only assume she meant Picklepuss.
As I walked, I noticed how the sunlight filtered in through the surrounding trees and illuminated the dewy grass around the headstones. Had I not been surrounded by centuries of death I’d think it was beautiful.
A few of the stones shimmered more than others so I went closer to one and found a gorgeous crystal laid on top and around the base I found more. Interesting.
Someone in the distance was humming, and I thought I saw Roberta Frond’s yellow coat disappear around a corner.
I thought about calling out to her, but then Picklepuss growled into the forest and I looked up to see a familiar white-masked face staring back at me.
I knelt down and tried to call the saluki to me but soon Carlie came roaring into the parking lot. When I looked back, he was gone again.
I ran toward the car with Picklepuss prancing beside me and pointed at the forest. “Did you see him?” I panted.
“See who? Please say you didn’t find another body. Or a ghost.”
“No, a dog! You didn’t see him?”
Carlie leaned over the open window and looked at the tree line. “No, what did he look like?”
“A saluki. He was tall and lean like a greyhound but with wisps of white hair and a black body.” I climbed into the passenger seat while she thought.
“Did it have a white face?”
“Yes! Do you know who’s he is?”
“Yeah, but you’re not going to like it.”
“I’d just like to get him back where he belongs. I’m sure someone is missing him.”
“I sincerely doubt it. That dog is Picklepuss.”
“Umm no.”
“Umm, yes. Picklepuss the first. He was Vicki’s before he ran off and she replaced him.”
“Oh! That’s why the charge was different on the first groom!” I gasped remembering the client card. “And that’s why he buried her! He must have been watching her the whole time. Sad.”
“Yeah, sad.”
We both sat in mutual sadness until we got to the community hall.
“I can’t just leave him out there to fend for himself.” We sat outside of the hall and watched as people worked their way inside.
“That’s what Kitty said too,” Carlie smiled. “She was feeding him, but she couldn’t ever get close enough to bring him inside.”
“Yeah I saw the bowls. I guess I’ve been taking over.”
“Kitty would have liked that,” she smiled. “So, are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
We headed inside the hall.
The Glaney Community Hall was housed in a tall log building on the northern side of town. There was a small park on the grounds and picnic tables surrounded by gardens and shrubs. The inside of the hall felt larger than it appeared, possibly because of the incredibly tall ceilings and unobstructed space. Tables had been set up both for gathering and for the incredible amount of food brought by guests.
It looked like the entire town had shown up to give their support to Vic and share memories of Vicki Perring. A huge picture of her sat on a stand by the door with a bouquet of flowers at the base. Otherwise the room was fairly sparse, though I hadn’t expected much fanfare for a woman that had a club devoted to getting rid of her.
I wandered toward the food table, as one does, and found Mayor Trull dropping off a crudité platter.
“Oh, Kit Davis!” He flopped the tray on the table and a few sliced carrots fell off the platter. The woman organizing the table squinted her eyes at him, sighed, and removed the offending vegetables.
“I want to personally thank you, on behalf of the town, for everything you’ve done here. The Glaney streets are safer now because of you.”
I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Ashley was lingering near the deserts. I wasn’t sure if she could hear us, but she was definitely in range. I’d heard that pregnancy increased the senses in some women. Maybe hearing was one of them.
Jordan came to her side and put his hand on her lower back. I met his eye and he smiled. Something was definitely changed in him. The Jordan I used to know would have been out back with a six pack, cracking jokes with his gang of local yokels. Carlie went over and gave Ashley a hug. I watched Ashley as she held a protective hand over her stomach. Maybe it was time for me to make a change too.
“You know, Mayor, Sheriff Trull is really the one you need to thank. If it wasn’t for her quick response, I might be attending a celebration like this in an entirely different manner.”
Mayor Trull glanced at his daughter and then gave me an approving nod. “Perhaps you’re right, Kit. So, have you made any decisions about how you will proceed with Kitty’s?”
“Proceed?”
“Well, I assume you don’t plan on staying long. I think it’s pretty clear that you don’t belong in a place like this,” he smiled and suddenly I got the feeling that his wholesome beard and sweater vest might elude to a sheep’s clothing type situation.
“I like to think that I’m fitting in alright.”
“Oh, you’re fitting in fine! But that’s how they get us, isn’t it? We all start to settle sooner or later. But I saw something in you, Kit Davis,” he pointed at me and grabbed a celery stick. “There’s a lot of people here that don’t seem to get it. They don’t see what Glaney could be. But something tells me that you do. Don’t let them change you too much, Kit!” he laughed and moved on from me, finding other people to shake hands with and other things to kiss…like babies.
“Ugh, politicians,” I sighed. Still…the Glaney Commons papers and the note came to mind. I still didn’t know what problem had been solved and if the Mayor was involved in solving it. I wondered if I’d ever figure it out.
I looked around the room and saw that Beverly was sitting with Henry and many other residents of Autumn Oaks who all gave me a friendly wave, or a polite nod. I expected to see all their faces soon in the salon. If not, I’d be showing up on their doorsteps demanding it. They owed me.
Doc, Logan, and a few others were gathered on a stage in the back setting up instruments and Carlie had gone to throw herself in the mix. I shifted Picklepuss to my left arm so that I could grab a cream puff from the table and popped it in my mouth.
“They really go down easy, huh?”
I turned, nearly choking on my puff, to find Vic Perring standing next to me. His hair was slicked back, and he wore a Nine Inch Nails concert tee and a pair of dark jeans. At least he had the good sense to throw on a black blazer over the top of it.
“You know, a few days ago I wouldn’t have touched these,” I said grabbing another puff. “But now I can’t seem to get enough.”
Vic swallowed hard.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. I didn’t get murdered so…”
“That you didn’t.”
“I never got to thank you for that. Thank you, Kit.”
I felt my cheeks blush. “No problem. I just wish I could have figured it out sooner. How is Sam doing anyway?”
“She’s good. Recovering.” He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. I wondered if he’d ever worn a blazer in his life. Then I remembered. Vic had lost family before. His parents. I guessed he was taking everything a lot harder than he let on.
“The funny thing is,” he continued. “Sam and I weren’t even a couple. Sure, we hung out a little, but things w
ere never going to go further than that. We both knew it.”
“I’m not sure Frannie would have cared.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “You know, for a while there, I thought it was you that was leaving me things. Like, I don’t know, a secret admirer. I saw that pig in your shop and I knew it went with the others I’d found on my doorstep.”
“Vic. You know that I wasn’t in town long enough for that to have been me. Right?”
“Oh yeah! Sure. I guess…” he looked at his shoes. “Wishful thinking?”
Just then my attention was drawn toward the door as a gorgeous apricot standard poodle sauntered in followed by a petite blond in black heels.
“Vic. I think you need to meet someone.”
I grabbed his arm and led him directly to Danielle.
“So, this is the famous Daphne.” The poodle immediately nuzzled my hand and I did what I was told and scratched her behind the ears.
“Kit!” Danielle gave me a hug and smiled sadly toward Vic. “I hope it’s ok that I brought her with me. This whole funeral thing makes me a little nervous.” She squished up her mouth adorably. “I’d rather be back home in a bubble bath with a good book.”
I was going to speak but Vic cut me off. “Of course, it’s cool. I love dogs!”
I left them to get to know each other and was feeling pretty good about myself when the epitome of my lingering self-doubt came strolling in.
“Peter George,” I walked toward him until I was close enough to smell that gorgeous cologne of his and then veered right past him, landing at the drink table. Of course, Peter followed me. I poured myself a glass of red wine, took a sip then turned to face him.
“Kit, I…”
“Stop.”
“But I just needed…”
“Peter,” I laughed. “I’m not sure you are getting this, but I don’t really care what you need.”
Peter grabbed the bottle I’d just poured from and sloshed some into a glass of his own. “Ok.”
“Ok?”
“Yes. Ok. Remember? I was married and divorced. I know when a woman doesn’t want to hear something.”
“Wow. Thank you, Peter, for understanding my little female brain so very well.” Picklepuss added a growl for good measure.