by Laura Scott
“Supposedly.” Gramps was skeptical. “It all sounded hokey to me.”
Since her grandfather didn’t use a debit card, or log into his bank via his computer, she wasn’t sure he was the expert on wills and trusts. “You don’t know that, Gramps. I’m pretty sure the cops on Dateline don’t make hasty assumptions.”
“You have a point,” he conceded. “I’ll keep my mind open to all possibilities.”
Okay, encouraging him was not what she’d intended. “Do you think she gave the client information to Noah?”
Gramps shrugged. “Not sure. It seemed clear she didn’t want to tell me, but maybe that’s just because I caught her off guard.” He arched a brow. “Maybe you should call your detective to make sure he knows about the list she provided to us.”
She sighed and ignored his comment. “Maybe I will.”
“Not sure I believe her about the dog barking, either,” Gramps said slyly. “Roxy must have barked more than normal, indicating something was wrong.”
“You never know, and you need to keep all possibilities in mind, remember?”
After dropping Gramps off at the Legacy House, Ally returned home. Roxy was thrilled to see her, but Pepper was once again hiding under the bed. Ally took Roxy outside for a walk.
“I have to say, there was something off about Anita,” she confided to her canine friend. “At first she was all sweetness and smiles, but as soon as Gramps pushed a bit, she became flustered and shut down. Do you suppose she’s hiding something?”
Roxy sniffed the ground, then squatted to pee.
“Or maybe I’m letting Gramps’ penchant for crime mess with my head. Who wouldn’t be flustered after finding out your neighbor was murdered? Heaven knows, I would be. Finding Marty with his head bashed in was bad enough.”
Roxy looked up at her with wide adoring eyes, then went back to sniffing her surroundings.
Ally glanced around, noting how her apartment above the clinic was the only residence along all of Main Street. Most of the homes were in neighborhoods that fanned out from the center of town. Except to the east, where there was nothing more than large beautiful weeping willows and sandy bluffs overlooking Lake Michigan.
She enjoyed watching the water and was tempted to walk all the way down to the shoreline to listen to the waves but decided against it. Pepper deserved a little time and attention too.
Turning around at the grocery store, she walked Roxy back to the clinic. Upstairs, she spent twenty minutes cajoling Pepper from her hiding spot. Once she had the cat in her arms, she cuddled her close. “There now, you’re being so good with Roxy, aren’t you? Yes, you are.”
The cat didn’t purr, and less than five minutes later, dug her claws into Ally’s arms and jumped down.
Ally sighed, rubbed at the surface scratches along her forearms, then headed to bed.
* * *
The next morning, she brought Roxy down to the clinic for some company. The dog sniffed all along the various exam rooms, then followed her toward the front desk area. When the phone rang, she dove for it. “Furry Friends Veterinary Clinic, this is Dr. Winter. May I help you?”
“Uh, yes. This is Richard Turks. I understand we owe you some money.”
Ally lifted her gaze to the ceiling in silent gratitude. “Yes, sir. The credit card Rachel brought in with her was declined. How is Smoky, by the way? I hope he’s feeling better.”
“He’s fine. I can be there in ten minutes, if that works for you?” Richard Turks was all business.
“Absolutely, thank you.” Ally hung up the phone and spun in a circle, nearly tripping over Roxy, who jumped up to join her. She rubbed the boxer’s fur. “Finally, another paying customer, Rox. Yes indeed.”
Once the clinic was again wiped down with bleach, she sat at her computer with Roxy at her feet and tried to come up with an idea to spur more customers. Advertising her grooming services might help. She’d already added the information, including her prices, on her Furry Friends website. She created a flyer and printed out several copies on the color printer. Rosie might allow her to hang one at the library, and maybe she could advertise at the grocery store. Even the Lakeview Café might display one.
It was worth a shot.
Richard Turks arrived as promised. He didn’t look at all happy as he handed over a different credit card. She ran it through the machine, and this time the amount, less the twenty dollars cash she’d taken from Rachel, went through.
She handed the card back to him with a smile. “Thanks again, Mr. Turks. I hope Smoky is feeling better.”
“He’s perfectly fine.” The curtness in his tone indicated he felt as if her services hadn’t been needed.
“I reinforced with Rachel that she shouldn’t leave her dirty socks on the floor or anywhere where Smoky might find them. I’ll be honest, this is the first time I’ve seen six socks come from a dog’s stomach.”
“Six?” He looked surprised and she realized Rachel must have glossed over the seriousness of the situation.
“I’m just glad surgery wasn’t necessary.” She smiled sweetly. “Take care, Mr. Turks.”
“Yeah, you too. Thanks, Dr. Winter.” He wore a grim expression when he left that almost made her feel sorry for Rachel.
Almost, but not quite. After all, the socks had belonged to Rachel in the first place.
Her phone rang again. Maybe having Lydia and Tillie working here would be a good thing, especially once she began seeing more customers. “Furry Friends Veterinary Clinic, this is Dr. Winter.”
“I hear you have Roxy.” The female voice sounded resigned.
“Yes, I do.” This must be her lucky day. She glanced down at Roxy. “You must be Mrs. Shawlin.”
“I prefer to go by my maiden name of Young. Sheila Young.”
“Of course, I didn’t realize. Please accept my condolences on your recent loss. I assume you’ve spoken to Detective Jorgenson about your late ex-husband and learned Roxy has been in my care since Monday.”
“Of course. But I’m in Chicago on business and simply can’t get away until next Monday. You’ll have to keep Roxy until then.”
Sheila’s tart tone put her teeth on edge. “Of course, that’s not a problem. But please know I charge a daily boarding fee.”
There was a long silence, as if the other woman wasn’t happy to hear about the fee. Finally, she spoke. “I guess I don’t have a choice, although it’s not my fault Marty got himself killed. He was supposed to take custody of Roxy in the first place after our divorce. This is all very inconvenient.”
Inconvenient? Maybe the ex-wife should be moved to the top of Noah’s suspect list. “I’m sorry about your loss, truly.” Ally tried to keep her tone even, despite this woman’s attitude toward her dog. “But I can’t offer free services.”
“Fine. I’ll pay your boarding fee and see you on Monday.” Sheila disconnected from the call.
“Wow, wish I could say I’m looking forward to that.” She bent down to scratch the dog behind her ears. “You poor thing. Your mommy sounds mean.” Hadn’t Anita also called Marty’s ex mean? Ally hoped Sheila Young was nicer to the dog in person compared to how she’d sounded on the phone.
She wondered what Sheila had told Noah about her relationship with her late ex-husband. Traveling to Chicago for work likely provided a decent alibi. Still, there was clearly no love lost between the two of them.
The more she thought about it, the more she believed Gramps was onto something. The person who’d killed Marty must have been one of his clients. Or maybe the spouse of a client, someone who was upset about whatever transaction Marty had convinced them to take.
Pulling out a pad of paper, she listed the names Anita had given them again. The Ryersons, the Whites, Kevin Kuhn, and Rosie Malone.
Oops. Almost forgot Lydia Schneider.
Ally tapped her pencil thoughtfully. She added Anita Jones to the list, wondering if the woman might have been holding back. There certainly could have been other referrals.
Still, it was a place to start.
Out of pure curiosity, Ally went through Hanson’s client files to see if any of the possible suspects had pets who’d been to the clinic.
Eli and Virginia White had a tabby cat, and Kevin Kuhn had a dachshund.
In reviewing the files, she realized Kevin’s dachshund, Lola, was due for her annual vaccinations. She picked up the phone and called the number listed on record. He didn’t pick up, so she left a message.
“Hello, this is the Furry Friends Veterinary Clinic. Lola is due for her annual vaccinations. Please call back to make an appointment.” She rattled off her number, then hung up the phone. If Kuhn brought Lola in, she could try to ask him about his interactions with Marty Shawlin and make some money to boot.
In fact, why not go through all the files to find pets in need of their shots? It certainly couldn’t hurt. Back in Madison, they’d had an automated system that provided pet owners with reminder calls.
Her pulse jumped. Why hadn’t she thought of this before?
Abandoning her idea of questioning the potential suspects, Ally sat down behind the computer and began going through the records one by one. It was tedious work, but after the end of two hours, she had ten names written down, in addition to Kevin Kuhn.
Eleven potential clients! She could barely contain her excitement.
“This is great news, isn’t it, Roxy?”
The dog wiggled her stubby tail in agreement.
Ally was halfway through making the calls when her door opened. Looking up, she was hoping to find another client, but it was Noah Jorgenson who stood inside the doorway, gazing around with interest.
Her stomach knotted with nerves. Roxy stretched and came to her feet, sniffing the air curiously. She must have recognized Noah’s woodsy scent from that first day, because she didn’t bark or growl this time.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
“Just checking things out.” His stance was casual, but she didn’t think he’d dropped by without an ulterior motive. Roxy ran around the edge of the counter to greet Noah. He good-naturedly bent down to pet the dog.
Her heart melted a bit as she watched him. She’d always liked men who were good to animals. Then again, Tim had loved animals and look where that had gotten her. Hmm. So much for being a good judge of character. “Do you have a pet?”
“No, I’m not home enough for a dog. And I’m allergic to cats.” He straightened and came toward the desk. “Did Sheila Young, Shawlin’s ex-wife, call?”
“Yes, but she wasn’t happy. Which is odd because you’d think she’d be grateful to hear I’ve been caring for Roxy while she’s out of town.”
“Yeah, she was the same way with me.” Noah’s green gaze caught hers. “What’s this I hear about you and your grandfather paying a visit to Anita Jones last night?”
Uh-oh. Busted. She tried not to show her reaction. “It’s not a crime to drop in and visit a neighbor.”
“You mean the neighbor of a murdered man, because last I checked neither this place nor the Legacy House are located next door to Anita Jones.”
She waved an impatient hand. “What difference does that make? Anita knows Lydia, who lives with Gramps. They obviously all know each other. That basically makes them neighbors.”
“Ally.” His low husky voice saying her name sent shivers of awareness down her spine. “How many times have I told you not to mess with my investigation?”
About as many times as I told Gramps that you aren’t my detective, she thought wryly. “We’re not.” Her protest sounded weak, even to her own ears.
“You are.” Noah sounded resigned. “Now tell me what you learned.”
“Huh?” His comment surprised her.
“Spill it. I know that sly grandfather of yours got her to say something, and I want to know what it was.”
She had to give Noah credit for understanding how her grandfather’s mind worked. “Gramps specifically requested the names of other people Anita had suggested Marty meet with, and she told us she referred him to the Ryersons, the Whites, Kevin Kuhn, and Rosie Malone.”
His steady green gaze didn’t reveal a thing. “Anything else?”
His woodsy scent grew somehow stronger. If he wasn’t standing so close, it would be easier to think. She pursed her lips. “Oh, Gramps inferred that Anita herself was one of his clients, but she denied doing any business with Marty.”
“Really.” A flicker of surprise crossed his features.
“Was that a lie? Because I have to tell you, Gramps and I both felt as if she was holding back from us.”
“Anything else?” Whatever Noah thought about Anita’s story, he obviously wasn’t letting on.
“She claims she heard Roxy barking that morning but that it was nothing unusual. Again, we thought that was odd, as Roxy must have been frantic while Marty was being attacked.”
No response from Noah, which made her think Anita had told him the same thing.
“That’s all I can remember.” She glanced down as Roxy brushed up against her leg. “I hope Sheila treats Roxy well. If she doesn’t, I want you to arrest her.”
For the first time since their meeting at Marty Shawlin’s, Noah smiled. She tried to ignore the way his face lit up. “Happy to. I don’t understand why people own pets if they don’t want them.”
“You and me both.” It occurred to her that, if not for Marty’s murder investigation standing between them, and the way he’d nearly referred to her as Hot Pants, they might have become friends.
“As long as we’re talking pets, I have a stray cat upstairs in my apartment. She’s a very oddly colored black and white speckled cat, goes by the name of Pepper.”
“Sorry, haven’t heard of any lost cats recently. Did you check with the shelter?”
“Yes. Jeri Smith doesn’t know of a lost cat matching that description, either. I’ll keep her until someone claims her.”
Noah glanced around at her empty clinic. “Looks like you’re not very busy.”
“Gee, thanks for the keen observation.” She hadn’t meant to sound so snarky. “The fine citizens of Willow Bluff seem to be lamenting the fact that Greg Hanson has retired and apparently don’t trust me with their pets.”
He frowned. “That’s crazy.”
She shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll win them over eventually, you’ll see.”
“I’m sure you will.” Again, his steady green gaze made her flush.
“Thanks for stopping by.” She gestured toward the phone. “I have more calls to make.”
“Okay, see you later—Hot Pants.”
And there it was. She scowled at him. “Knock it off—”
Crack! Something smashed loudly against the glass door of her clinic, causing it to crack and split into thousands of tiny pieces. Noah jumped back in shock, staring in horror at the shattered glass that remained within the frame.
“What was that?” Her voice emerged high and squeaky again.
“Stay here.” Noah’s tone was authoritative. He strode toward the door and carefully pulled it open. She held her breath, but the glass didn’t spill out of the doorframe, maybe because it was shatter-proof. A part of her realized that was a good thing, because she didn’t want Roxy or any future clients to step on any glass fragments.
Noah disappeared outside. She sank into her chair, gathering Roxy close. “We’re okay, girl. Noah is going to make sure we’re okay.” She took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart.
Her door was not okay. It would need to be replaced, and soon. The glass bits hadn’t fallen out yet, but she expected it wouldn’t take much to jar them loose.
What was her insurance deductible, anyway? A thousand dollars? She dropped her forehead to rest on Roxy’s soft fur.
She had money, but it was earmarked to make her upcoming loan payment.
The thought of failing at this, the way she had in Madison, was almost too much to bear.
“Ally?” Noah’s voice penetrated her pity party.
“You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She lifted her head and forced a smile. “What did you find?”
“Someone threw a rock at your door, it’s still on the sidewalk outside. So far, I haven’t found any witnesses.” He frowned. “Have you upset someone lately?”
She thought for a moment about the handful of clients she’d had so far this week. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“I have a squad on the way, we’ll do our best to find someone who might have witnessed someone going by your clinic with a rock.” He set his business card on the counter. “Call if you need anything.”
“Okay.” She nodded, because what choice did she have? If Noah found the person who did this, they’d have to pay for the damage, right?
When Noah turned away, she called, “Wait.”
He turned to face her. “What is it?”
“Do you think this could have something to do with Marty Shawlin’s murder?”
His green gaze darkened. “I don’t know, anything is possible. You and your grandfather really need to stay out of it, Ally. For real. Whoever killed Marty isn’t fooling around.”
He left and she sat there, realizing he was right. She needed to warn Gramps, right away.
Before something bad happened.
Losing her business was one thing. She’d never survive losing her grandfather.
Chapter Eight
Ally wanted nothing more than to rush over to see Gramps but decided to get in touch with her insurance company first. A shattered door was hardly welcoming, not to mention potentially dangerous, and needed to be replaced as soon as possible.
Her insurance agent called her back and agreed to have someone there to provide an estimate and repair first thing in the morning.
She’d hoped for today, but better late than never.
After taping a sheet of plastic over both sides of the shattered glass door, she clipped Roxy to her leash and headed outside. With a frown, she paused, realizing the broken door might invite looters. The door itself was locked, but one swift kick would likely destroy what was left of the glass.
Catching a glimpse of a uniformed officer made her relax. He was younger, seemingly more energetic than Roberts, the officer who’d responded to Marty’s murder. Surely her clinic would be safe as the police investigated.