We Woof You a Deadly Christmas

by Laura Quinn

  Clarence and Darrow began howling, signaling Claire to leave before she and Baron were noticed by the public. Once they were back in the car, she opened the note to reveal Sticks’ full name and phone number. Claire planned to call as soon as she got home, but noticed they were heading in the wrong direction.

  “More pothole construction?” Claire guessed.

  “We’re going straight to Bob’s house. He already packed for you and brought Penny and Hercule. He’s like a cat whisperer.” Marti read her friend’s thoughts, “Don’t worry, I gave him a list of what you’d need.”

  Bob welcomed his human and furry guests into his home and Claire instantly relaxed. Her cats lay beside their new feline friend in front of a crackling fire, eyeing the shiny baubles that hung from the evergreen bough on the mantel. Empty tins of crab-lobster stew indicated they had eaten well. Baron sniffed his feline siblings and Claire pet them just long enough for cat comfort.

  The ladies were called to dinner at a festive table, loaded with freshly baked cranberry rolls, orange-cranberry-spinach salad, pecan-crusted tilapia and brûléed acorn squash. Claire found she was very hungry and ate with relish. Baron sat next to her, though he had little interest in her dinner or the kibble that the beagles gobbled down. Before a dessert of apple strudel, Claire warmed up a pawghetti and meatballs dinner for the fussy eater. Bob prepared large mugs of coffee with a splash of Kahlua while Claire excused herself to make a phone call.

  As soon as Sticks answered, Claire introduced herself as Keckers’ friend. With the pre-arranged endorsement, the teen was willing to tell her about his experience with steroids.

  “Dylan told me I took too much, but I was always benched. I think the only reason I made the team was because I’m the tallest guy in school. I figured if I was faster and stronger, Coach Young would play me. Stupid, I know.”

  “I’m glad you realized that before it was too late,” Claire said.

  “That was some scary shi..I mean stuff. I was pissed off most of the time and then I started forgetting things. Once, I forgot where I put my keys and had to take the bus home from school. The guy in the next locker found them a day later. I’ve had the same locker since I was a freshman. That’s when I quit, but I never should have started. I was already in trouble.”

  “Let me guess,” Claire said. “Ruth Fischer caught you and started blackmailing you?”

  “Yeah, she made me come to her house every week and clean. She said my height was perfect for dusting the cobwebs on the ceiling. It was so embarrassing, but at least no one saw me. The other guys had to work on her yard and stuff.”

  “Did she have pictures of you? If so, I feel I should warn you that the police have her file now. If they ask you, it’s better to come clean.”

  “She had a video, including a confession--me and my big mouth. She caught me breaking into the cafeteria.”

  “You were stealing?”

  “I was starving. That’s another side effect; constant munchies. Lunch was over, but I knew there were leftover brownies and I had such a craving. Then, I got angry that they were locked up and the next thing I knew, I broke the door and shoved my face into the tray. Ms. Fischer filmed the whole thing and said she recognized the symptoms. I actually started to cry when I admitted I was on steroids. That’s when she got me.” The teen’s voice cracked at the last sentence. “I might have killed her myself; I was so mad.”

  The tone was so chilling, that if Ed hadn’t confessed to Ruth’s murder, Claire might have thought Sticks played a role. “If you were working in her house, why didn’t you just take the file? Did you know where it was?”

  “I knew it was in that owl. Whenever she thought I was slacking, she would shake it so the flash drive rattled inside. But, she told me she had nanny cams all over her house. She played one of the tapes that showed me noshing a bag of cookies. No way I was going to get caught taking the drive, she was terrifying as it was.”

  “Well, that’s all over now,” Claire said. “I hope you learned a…wait a minute, did you say she left you alone while you worked?”

  “Yeah, sometimes. I had a key in case she wasn’t there.”

  “And when did you say you lost your keys?”

  “A few weeks ago, I guess.”

  “Before Ms. Fischer was killed?”

  “Yeah, right before. As soon as I heard she was dead, I tried burning it as a symbolic whatever you call it.”

  “Ritual?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. I guess a stove isn’t hot enough, though, so I threw it away instead. It made me feel a little better, but I was worried if anyone else would find that video. Now, I’m worried I’ll be arrested.”

  “Between you and me, I don’t think much will come of this, though your parents will probably be told,” Claire said.

  “I can deal with that,” Sticks said, relief evident in his voice. Claire thanked him for his honesty and assured him she would not reveal his identity.

  In the midst of telling the anonymous teen’s story to Bob and Marti, Claire’s phone rang.

  “You’ll be so proud of Harry and me,” Emma said. “We scanned all the videos and found three that showed Coach Bishop. I sent a compilation video to your email, so make sure you watch it, but if you could keep our names out of it, we’d tots appreciate it. Harry’s nervous that the police will think he’s involved in the steroids bust.”

  Claire was going to ask how she knew about that already, temporarily forgetting how fiercely the rumor vine thrived in North Haven. “He’s not on steroids, is he?”

  “Of course not, I told you he would never risk his admission to Harvard. His hot bod is genetic, and due to the home gym his parents built for him,” Emma said. “Besides, I tots made him take a drug test this afternoon.”

  Claire cast the video to the large screen TV in the living room. She, Marti and Bob watched as various football players filmed themselves at different locations, all thanking their lunch lady for keeping them fueled for success. There was a good deal of inappropriate gestures and language, which would have been cut from the rally video. The video slowed and repeated to illustrate the three key scenes. One captured Ed’s distinctive roadster parked in the street behind Ruth’s house. Another showed the car racing through a red light, headed back to the school. The final shot showed Ed scratching fiercely at his inflamed neck. All three were date and time-stamped.

  “Got him,” Claire said. She sent the file to Officer Conners, having removed any trace of the compilation’s creators. “Now they have proof he was in the vicinity at the same time she was killed.”

  “Plus, his fingerprints will probably be on that kid’s keys,” Marti said. “Do you think he’ll come forward?”

  “He may not need to,” Bob said. “I’ll bet Ed made a 3D copy of that key too. It’s probably with the others in evidence.”

  “They should check for a record of files sent to the 3D printer,” Marti said.

  “If they’re like the school’s regular printers, you have to sign in with an ID to send the files. I found that out when I tried to print more volunteer flyers when I was there,” Claire said. “I’ll bet Ed never thought to cover his tracks with that.”

  Bob refreshed their cups and toasted another successful investigation by the Mystery Mavens. A text from his source confirmed that Chief Pete would not pursue the high school steroid users. Bob scowled as he deleted the story he was working on for the morning’s headline.

  “So much for that,” he said. “I was going to break the sweet thieves' story.”

  “Sweetz Zappers,” Claire corrected.

  “It’s a moot point anyway,” Marti said. “Now that the kids will be off the steroids, the bonbon bandits’ crime spree will end.”

  They all laughed at Marti’s moniker, agreeing it was the best. That last mystery solved, the friends were finally able to relax and discuss all things not criminal. Bob and Marti engaged in a mock battle as to whether or not stuffing should be cooked inside the turkey. Accepting defea
t, the attorney admitted the one time she tried to make a turkey, she forgot to defrost it and six hours later, her guests sat down to raw meat. Claire told the story of her neighbor in New York who moved in after burning down his house with a flaming fried turkey.

  Bob couldn’t think of a turkey fail story, so searched online for videos of others’ culinary misfortunes. They laughed so hard that their sides ached. Baron watched the screen with the humans until he fell asleep next to the snoring beagles. The cats batted around their new hand-sewn felt toys until they worked up an appetite for leftover tilapia, sans crust. They slept the fine meals off, cuddled on a plush blanket thrown over the fireside chaise longue.

  Claire and Baron retired to the guestroom and fell asleep within minutes. For the first time in a long time, her dreams were not filled with visions of dark outcomes.

  Chapter 23

  Saturday, December 23rd

  “Oh no,” Claire said. Her body tensed and Baron stood in alert, his nose pressed to the rear passenger window. They had spotted the vehicle as soon as Marti turned into the alley behind the mall.

  “Maybe we should go,” Marti said.

  “No, I better face up to it,” Claire replied, dreading the lecture, or worse, she would receive in the squad car.

  “Maybe they’ll give you a medal,” Marti said, not very convincingly.

  Claire held her breath as she opened the NHPD car door and slid into the front seat.

  “I thought you should know that I’ll be handling traffic duty today. It’s my last job as a police officer,” Sheila said. She looked down and sighed.

  “Oh my God, did they fire you because of me?”

  Laughter erupted. “I told you, you’re no detective, but I am.”

  Claire didn’t know what to say, but she had to say something. The police department couldn’t afford to lose their best officer. “You can’t quit. I know you would make a great P.I., but we need you on the force.”

  “Me, a private investigator? That’ll be the day. I’ve been promoted to police detective,” Sheila said, revealing a spark of warmth beneath her uber-professionalism. “Since I owe some of that to you, I volunteered to help with crowd control today.”

  “I know it will be busy, but I hardly think we need crowd control.”

  “You didn’t hear? One of your pet shelters issued a press release yesterday about some big announcement they’re making at your shop today. All the local and regional news crews are sending reporters to cover it. I’m surprised Bob didn’t tell you; he helped ignite the story, promising a heartwarming Christmas story.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow, now get to work. I’ll be flashing traffic cones if you need me. And you won’t need me, right?”

  “Absolutely, I’m hanging up my gumshoes.”

  “I believe that about as much as I believe a jolly fat man is going to come down my chimney tomorrow night.”

  Marti’s car was empty, so Claire went inside the building. She locked the outside door behind her and opened her shop’s back door.

  “Surprise!” A group of more people than she could count followed up with a chorus of “For she’s a jolly good fellow”.

  Emma brought Baron to Claire, and they were swarmed with hugs and well wishes from the Posh Pup team, shelter volunteers and friends. After telling her story several times, crediting Baron, Penny and Hercule as the real heroes, Claire cornered Marti.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered. “Sheila said there’s some big announcement being made here today?”

  “It’s a surprise; none of us knows what will be announced. Actually, I suspect Bob does, but he’s being exasperatingly tight-lipped.”

  Claire teared up when she learned that the shelter volunteers were there solely to help her, as a token of their gratitude for everything the baker had done for them since she opened the shop. Even Delilah and Tallulah were there to help, manning a wrapping station upstairs. Carrie and Viktor came out of the elevator with empty boxes, having catered breakfast for everyone. Barbara said all the local restaurants called with offers to donate lunch and dinner. She selected Claire’s favorites to cater and convinced the others to donate gift certificates for the shelters to raffle.

  Claire met with her staff for a quick planning session and then stepped onto the sales floor with Baron. The shop was filled to capacity, with a line out the door. Eventually, Claire made her way to the stairs and addressed the crowds from the upper landing.

  “Thank you, everyone. Your support is overwhelming. I look forward to talking with all of you soon, but for now, Baron and I better get to work to serve you.”

  Applause echoed through the store, increasing when Maya Nightingale, the head of Special Hearts Rescue, emerged from the elevator. Moxie, the two-legged Doxie ran ahead, demonstrating his new doggie wheelchair. Baron sniffed his buddy, wagged his tail and bowed down in an epic moment caught by every camera.

  Marti cued the media as Maya turned on her microphone and addressed the crowds in the shop and watching online.

  “Many of you know that our shelter was in danger of closing. Although so many kind-hearted veterinarians donate their services, the cost of medicine and equipment crippled us.” She paused and walked up to Claire, putting her arm around her. “Thanks to the fundraising efforts of my dear friend, Claire Noble, we were able to pay our outstanding bills and hoped to make some renovations to our outdated, and frankly inadequate, facility.”

  A former Fortune 100 executive, Maya knew how to work a crowd. She paused and dabbed her face with a handkerchief. “But, it wasn’t to be.”

  The crowd sighed collectively, followed by several offers of support. Kendall Cole surprised Claire by stepping up and taking the microphone from Maya, who appeared too upset to speak.

  “Hold on, we promised everyone a heartwarming story,” the young photographer said. “I know Moxie here has his new wheels and a new leash on life. That’s a happy Christmas story, wouldn’t you agree?”

  The crowd oohed and awed as the peppy pooch trotted back and forth on the landing. Maya took the microphone back and continued, “Yes, and as we celebrate our one-hundredth anniversary, I could tell you thousands of stories about pets we’ve helped overcome a dire prognosis and thrive, but everyone knows the good work we do, right?”

  The audience applauded, then gasped as Maya and Kendall raised a large cardboard sign, printed with a condemned notice posted on the shelter’s doors.

  Maya flipped the sign over and announced, “Now this is what I call a real Christmas miracle.” The revealed replica of a five-hundred-thousand-dollar check made out to the shelter caused the audience to cheer while professional and amateur camera lenses zoomed in to capture all the zeros.

  Maya announced, “This donation was made by Ms. Kendall Cole, our hometown hero, who is now the toast of Manhattan’s, if not the world’s, fine-art-photography scene.” She handed the microphone to Kendall, then held up a coffee-table book and matching calendar, filled with images of her shelter’s pets.

  “As many of you know, I used to have a studio next door before certain events led me to New York,” Kendall said, omitting the details surrounding the fatal Fourth of July. “During my time here, I was inspired by all the fundraising events Claire put on for the local shelters. Special Heart really captured my heart, and I took hundreds of shots of their amazing animals.”

  Maya returned to center stage. “I know Kendall is too humble to tell you, so I will. She scored an exclusive gallery show in Manhattan that featured these stunning photographs, followed by several offers to publish the images. You can buy both of these beautiful works online, and all the donated proceeds will keep our shelter running for a very long time.”

  The two women pulled Claire and Baron to the center of the landing with them. Baron raised his paw, inspiring Tres to do the same, resulting in what would likely be the cover of next year’s calendar. The cheering audience dispersed to finalize their shopping and the reporters dashed out to file the
ir reports.

  Claire was about to take the elevator down, when Marti grabbed her and pulled her into the private apartment. Delilah and Tallulah sat on the couch, looking grim.

  “Oh, no,” Claire exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Marti told us that you planned to donate all your leftover treats and food to the local shelter,” Delilah said.

  “Yes,” Claire said, drawing the single syllable out to a question.

  “Sugar, your cupboards will be bare by the time those Christmas-crazed locusts are done,” Tallulah said.

  Claire’s eyes widened. “Oh, I hadn’t thought about that, but I can stay and bake tonight, no problem. Maybe the distributor will be open tomorrow for a last-minute order.”

  “Too late, I already called them,” Marti said, breaking into a smile. “Thanks to these two lovely ladies, a truck filled with food and supplies will deliver to all the shelters in the area next week, and for many, many weeks following.”

  For the umpteenth time that day, Claire was speechless.

  “It was the least we could do,” Lula said. “Not only did you save sis, you saved us the considerable expense of engaging a top defense attorney for a lengthy trial. We figured it was only fair to write a check for that amount.”

  “Dearest Clarissa, you’ll never know how much you mean to me.” Tears streamed down Delilah’s cheeks. “You believed in me when no one else did, well almost no one,” she said, looking at her sister.

  After granting her sole interview with Bob, Claire joined her staff in ringing up the lines that persisted throughout the afternoon. Baron posed for countless photos, stoically accepting praise and treats for his bravery.

  When the store closed, Luigi brought up trays of stuffed shells in tomato sauce, spinach tagliatelle in pesto sauce, antipasto, bruschetta and loaves of garlic bread. After all the volunteers and her staff enjoyed dinner, Claire packed up the leftovers in to-go boxes for all. Claire tucked in a thick bonus envelope for each of her staff with wishes for a happy holiday season from her and Baron.