Furbidden Fatality

by Deborah Blake

  “I’m not a lawyer,” Kari said. “I’m a former waitress who now spends most of her time cleaning cat cages and trying to figure out how to run a shelter. I don’t see how any of that can possibly help you.”

  “You’re smart, tenacious, and you seem to have a gift for getting to the bottom of a mystery,” Marge said. Despite the complimentary words, bitterness colored her tone. “I wouldn’t be sitting here today if that weren’t true. There was a beach house in the Bahamas just waiting for me to come sit on the deck and drink piña coladas. But you managed to find answers that even the police didn’t. And now I need you to put that gift to work for me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kari said, feeling completely lost. “What are you talking about?”

  “I didn’t kill Bill Myers,” Marge said, slapping her hand down on the counter. At a glance from the officer in the back of the room, she sat up straight and made an effort to get her emotions under control. “I want you to find out who did.”

  “You want what?” Kari said. This whole conversation was more than a little surreal.

  “Look,” the older woman said. “I admit that I wanted to do him in. He was a thorn in my side from day one, and when he threatened to blackmail me for my hard-earned money, I wasn’t about to put up with that.” Her normally mild countenance took on a surprisingly sharp and cruel edge, as if a songbird had suddenly turned into a hawk.

  “You mean the money you stole?” Kari said in a deliberately mild tone.

  Marge waved away the nuances. “Whatever. Either way, yes, I had planned to get rid of him. But what matters is that I didn’t. Someone else beat me to it. I have no idea who, and I want you to find out.”

  Kari opened her mouth to protest, but Marge kept on talking.

  “The sentence for embezzling is a heck of a lot less harsh than the one for murder. I serve a few years, get out, and get on with my life. If I go away for murder, that’s it for me. And since the sheriff and the district attorney are convinced they have the guilty party, they aren’t going to look any further to find the killer. That’s why I need you.”

  Kari had a feeling that no matter how hard the forensic accountant looked, he wasn’t going to find all the money the court clerk had stolen over the years. If Marge got out, she would no doubt vanish to her island paradise, taking a lot of other people’s cash with her. On the other hand, if she really hadn’t murdered Myers, should she go to prison for the crime?

  “Why should I help you?” Kari asked, since that was more the question for the moment. “We’re not exactly best pals. You sent Deputy Carter to vandalize the sanctuary, then told Jack Falco that you could prove Buster bit someone. You are the last person I feel like helping at the moment.”

  Marge pursed her lips. “You don’t have to like me,” she said. “I don’t particularly care. But if you want to keep your precious Buster alive, you’ll do your best to prove I didn’t commit this murder.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kari asked, trying not to raise her voice. The woman was such a piece of work.

  “I know where Myers kept his record book,” Marge said, lowering her voice and looking over her shoulder at the officer seated in the corner, far enough away to give them a modicum of privacy but close enough to jump in if there was trouble.

  “What record book?” Kari asked, suddenly a lot more interested.

  “That arrogant man kept a notebook detailing all the things he accused dog owners of, and what happened afterward. He was a petty bully, and I know for a fact that he used to take it out and revel in it whenever he was feeling down, because it made him feel powerful and superior.” Marge sneered at the memory.

  “The point is, that book will clear poor Buster. But I will only tell you where it is if the murder charge against me is dropped. I’m thinking that gives you pretty good incentive to find the real killer. And fast, before it is too late for your precious dog.”

  * * *

  * * *

  You agreed to that?” Bryn said, her voice high in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding. The woman is a murderer and a thief.” They were all gathered around the front desk at the shelter, where they’d started to meet up out of force of habit. A plate of Sara’s homemade brownies had already been decimated as Kari had shared her story with the rest. The rich smell of chocolate almost overwhelmed the faint aroma of the special nontoxic cleaner they used on the cages.

  Sara cocked her head and looked thoughtful. “She’s definitely a thief, but I’m not so sure about the murderer part. I always thought there was something a little odd about the idea of her following Bill Myers here in the middle of the night when she already had a plan to meet up with him later.”

  “Besides,” Suz added, “why would she go to the trouble of asking Kari to track down a killer she knows doesn’t exist? If there is nothing else to find, what would be the point?”

  “Huh,” Bryn said. “That kind of makes sense. What would she have to gain?”

  They were all silent for a moment.

  “I can’t think of anything,” Suz finally said. “But that doesn’t mean we should go looking for answers. Isn’t that what the cops are for?”

  “It is,” Kari said reluctantly. “But let’s face it—Marge is right about one thing. If they already think they have their man, or in this case, their woman, they’re not going to be looking any further, are they?”

  Daisy, who hadn’t said anything up to this point, asked in a quiet voice, “Do you really think she has evidence that can save Buster?”

  Kari thought for a moment, reviewing the entire conversation with Marge in her head. “Well, on the one hand, we know the woman is a liar and a thief, so we have to take everything she says with a grain of salt. But what she said about Bill Myers having a secret book he took out and gloated over rings true. And if there is something in there that can prove he lied about Buster . . . honestly, how do we not at least try?”

  “Maybe we should check out Myers’s house and see if we can find this book,” Bryn suggested. “I’ll bet I can slip in through a back window.”

  “No!” the rest of the women said in unison. Suz snickered at the offended look on Bryn’s face.

  “Your aunt would never forgive me if you got into trouble,” Kari said. She didn’t even like to bring a book back to the library late. There was no way she was going to call Izzy and tell her that she’d gotten Bryn arrested.

  “And let’s be realistic,” Sara added. “The cops have undoubtedly been over his house with a fine-toothed comb, especially after they found out about his illegal activities. If this book exists, it is either stashed somewhere else or really well hidden. Clearing Marge of the murder may be our only chance of getting our hands on it.”

  “Great,” Kari said. “Um, anyone have any idea how to do that?”

  They all looked at each other in silence for a minute. Clearly nothing brilliant had occurred to anyone.

  Queenie, who had been sitting quietly on Kari’s lap, suddenly meowed and jumped up on the counter, nearly knocking both the phone and the plate of brownies onto the floor.

  “Stay away from those brownies,” Kari scolded her. “Chocolate isn’t good for kitties.”

  Queenie meowed again, sounding offended, and then the phone rang, startling them all. Sara, who was the closest, picked it up.

  “Serenity Sanctuary,” she said. “Sara speaking. How may I help you?”

  She listened for a moment without saying anything, but Kari could hear the buzz of a frantic voice on the other end.

  “What?” Sara said, when she could get a word in edgewise. “How is that possible? Yes, of course. Look, take him to the vet’s. Kari and I will meet you there. No, of course they won’t take him away from you again. Just do it, Georgia. It will be okay, I promise. We’ll be right there.”

  She put down the phone and looked at the others in disbelief. “That was
Georgia Travis. Remember I told you that Myers had seized her German shepherd, Pepper—short for Sergeant Pepperspray—and supposedly euthanized him? Apparently the dog just showed up at her back door.”

  “What?” Daisy and Bryn gasped together.

  Kari felt her jaw drop. “Is she positive it is the same dog?” she asked.

  “She swears she knows her own dog,” Sara said in a grim tone. “Georgia says that Pepper is gaunt, and ate like he hadn’t been fed in days, plus he had a rope around his neck that he had clearly gnawed through to escape from wherever he was. She said he’s in rough shape. She’s terrified that the new dog warden will take the dog away again, but Pepper obviously needs to be seen by a vet.” She looked at Kari. “I told her we’d meet her there to be supportive, just in case.”

  “Of course,” Kari said. She stared at Queenie, who was innocently licking a paw, as if she hadn’t warned them that the phone was about to ring. “Besides, I have a funny feeling this has something to do with our search for who really killed Bill Myers.” A little kitten told me so.

  Seventeen

  By the time Kari and Sara got to the veterinarian’s office, Georgia was already in with Dr. McCoy. The receptionist led them back to the room where a serious-looking Angus was examining a gaunt German shepherd. The metal exam table had been lowered to accommodate the larger animal, who was being cooperative despite his weakened state, and was clearly a statuesque and handsome dog when he was at his best. The dog kept turning to stare at the woman next to him with big brown eyes, as if he wanted to make sure she was still there.

  Georgia Travis was a tall woman with cropped dark blond hair—she and her dog probably made an impressive pair when things were normal. She was wearing cut-off denim shorts that showed off long powerful legs and a dark blue tank top. Old scar tissue could be seen underneath one wide strap, but she didn’t strike Kari as the kind of woman who would be self-conscious about such a thing.

  At the moment, all her focus was on her dog, although she looked up when Kari and Sara entered the room, and smiled gratefully at the former teacher.

  “Thank you for coming,” Georgia said in a voice that shook a little bit. “I didn’t know what to do when Pepper showed up at the back door. For a minute, I thought it was a ghost. Then I remembered you asking me about what happened, and I figured I should call you.”

  “He’s no ghost,” Angus said, shaking his head so a lock of slightly shaggy red hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it back with one hand while steadying the dog with the other. “But he’s been through a very tough time of it, that much is clear.” He nodded at the newcomers in greeting, then returned his focus to his patient.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Kari asked. She didn’t know who she wanted to hug more, the animal or his owner. Both of them looked equally rocky.

  “He’s going to be just fine,” Angus said, smiling at her and then at Georgia. “He’s got some nasty sores around his neck where the rope was, and it looks as though he hasn’t eaten in days. One paw seems to be a little bruised too. But a few days of rest and food, and he should be as good as new.”

  Sara walked over to where a piece of rope had been cut and then tossed on the counter. One ragged end showed where the determined dog had gnawed through it.

  “This is awful,” she said. “Who would leave a dog tied up without food?”

  Kari swallowed hard. “Someone who didn’t realize he wouldn’t be coming back?” she suggested.

  “Bill Myers,” she and Sara said in unison.

  “What?” Angus’s head popped up as he stared from one to the other. “Why on earth would the dog warden have Pepper?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Georgia said, patting the dog’s head.

  “Are we sure this really is Pepper?” Kari asked. After all, the dog was in pretty rough shape and it was possible that Georgia was just wishing her own dog had come back to her. Although the way the dog was behaving made it pretty clear he knew his person.

  “Oh, yes,” Angus reassured her. “He has a microchip and the numbers match. But I thought you said Myers had the dog euthanized. Why would he lie about a thing like that?”

  The expression on Georgia’s face made Kari think that if Bill Myers was still alive, the woman would happily reach out and strangle him with her bare hands, bad shoulder or no bad shoulder. “When I asked him for Pepper’s body to be returned to me, that officious jerk had the nerve to tell me that the county had already sent him out to be cremated. And you’re telling me he had my dog all along? Why?”

  Sara played with the colored stripe in her hair. “That’s a very good question. Here’s another one. If Pepper is still alive, is it possible that some of the other dogs Myers supposedly had put to sleep are also out there somewhere?”

  “Oh, lord,” Kari said, putting a hand over her heart, which had suddenly started beating twice as fast. “He must have left some food for Pepper, which eventually ran out. What if there are other dogs who are in the same place, and they’re starving and can’t get loose?”

  Georgia turned pale. “That would be horrible,” she said. “But Pepper can’t tell us where he was. What can we do?”

  Sara got a resolute look on her face that Kari was quite familiar with. The one you never argued with, if you knew what was good for you.

  “You have to go to the sheriff,” she said to Georgia. “He needs to know about this.”

  Georgia shook her head. “Bill Myers is dead, Sara. The sheriff will be unhappy to learn that Myers was up to even more dubious activities than you’ve already uncovered, but it isn’t as though the sheriff’s department has the manpower to do a countywide search for some dogs that we don’t even know for sure are missing. And if they are alive, there is no way to know if they are even in this area.”

  “We need to talk to Deputy Carter,” Kari said. “He was in on Myers’s dirty deeds as dog warden. Maybe he’ll know.”

  “You have to go,” Georgia said, putting her arms around Pepper. “I can’t leave Pepper right now. After Dr. McCoy is done bandaging his neck and giving him fluids and a B-12 shot, I’m taking my dog back where he belongs. I can go in and talk to the sheriff tomorrow, but there really isn’t much to tell him. I heard a noise at the back door, and Pepper was there, limping and whining.”

  Kari looked at Sara and the older woman nodded at her. “Okay,” Kari said. “You take your baby home. I’ll see if I can find us some more answers.”

  She wasn’t looking forward to talking to the sheriff again, but at least this time she had good news. Of a sort.

  * * *

  * * *

  So let me get this straight,” Richardson said in a determinedly patient voice. “Georgia Travis’s German shepherd, the one that Bill Myers said he was going to have euthanized, showed up at her back door alive and well. And you think this is a bad thing?”

  Kari clenched her hands on her lap, hopefully out of sight from where the sheriff was sitting across from her, and took a deep breath before she tried to explain the whole thing again. “Obviously, Pepper being alive is a good thing.”

  “Pepper?” the sheriff said.

  “Pepper. Short for Sergeant Pepperspray. Georgia’s dog.” The sheriff nodded, so she went on. “But obviously Myers lied about having the dog put to death, so now we’re worried that maybe there are other dogs out there, tied up without food or water, in who knows what kind of conditions.” She held up the chewed-through rope she’d brought with her, to make her point.

  Richardson held out his hand for the rope and looked at it for a minute. “I see your point, Ms. Stuart. But the dog warden is dead. There is no one to punish for this, and I can’t send out officers who are needed to deal with actual crimes to search for theoretically possible dogs that may or may not be in trouble. For all we know, Myers just hadn’t gotten around to having this Pepper put down yet.”

&n
bsp; Well, Georgia had called it, almost word for word. Kari guessed that the woman would know how a law officer would think, since she’d been one herself. “But, Sheriff,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stuart. I know your heart is in the right place, but I’m afraid it is too late for all those other dogs. Unless you can bring me some kind of evidence that Myers kept any of them alive and locked up somewhere, there is nothing I can do.”

  Kari bit her lip. “Actually, there is one thing you can do. I promise it doesn’t involve sending anyone out looking for theoretical dogs.”

  “Oh?” Richardson raised one eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

  “I’d like to talk to Deputy Carter,” she said.

  The eyebrow went up a little higher. “You know he’s not exactly your biggest fan, Ms. Stuart.”

  Kari made a face. “The feeling is completely mutual, Sheriff. But if anyone knows what happened with Pepper and if there are any other animals still out there, it’s him.”

  Richardson pondered her request for a moment. “Well, you could be right, although I don’t know if he’ll talk to you. And I want to be there if he does.”

  She wanted to protest but figured she’d probably pushed him about as far as she was going to get. “It’s worth a try,” she said. “And if it were your dog, I’m pretty sure you’d go to any lengths to find out if he was still alive.”

  The sheriff glanced at the picture on his desk, which featured a handsome golden retriever proudly holding a stick in his mouth.

  “All right, Ms. Stuart. I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t make the man talk to you.” He pushed back from his desk with a scrape of wooden chair legs. “I’ll be right back. Stay put.”

  Kari waited until he left the room to cheer quietly to herself. Richardson might say he couldn’t make Carter talk to her, but it would take a stronger man than the former deputy to say no to the sheriff if he was determined to make someone say yes.