A Dead Man and Doggie Delights

by Aleksa Baxter

  When my grandpa still wasn’t back after all that, I turned my attention to poor Fancy. “You know who could use a bath,” I told her.

  She immediately ran out the back door and to the far corner of the yard, staring back at me with those big sad eyes of hers like I’d just committed the ultimate betrayal by even mentioning the b word.

  “Come on now. You know you could use one.” I approached her with a handful of treats, hoping to lure her inside.

  She took the treats, but stayed right where she was.

  “Fancy…Look at your paws. Don’t you think you’d like to wash that dirt off?”

  When it comes to baths, logic doesn’t really work with Fancy, but persistence does. I kept at her until she finally ducked her head and slunk into the house. When she was younger I’d had to herd her through the house, closing one door at a time until we finally reached the tub, but now she just resigns herself to her fate and goes straight to the bathroom like she’s going to her execution.

  What’s crazy is she’ll happily splash around in even the smallest of puddles but call it a bath and she suddenly hates water.

  I closed the bathroom door—just to be safe, we didn’t need her running through the house shaking water all over everything—and started the water running.

  Fancy buried her face against my chest in sheer misery as I soaked her down and soaped her up. At least she didn’t fight me. I’m not sure what I’d do if she ever did. Probably just let her be very, very dirty for the rest of her life.

  It was all over in ten minutes. I toweled Fancy down as best I could—not easy with a dog that has a double coat like hers—and then let her loose. Looking at how black the water that drained out of the tub was I knew she’d definitely needed it.

  Now you’d think that a dog that hates baths as much as she does would immediately flee once the bath was over. Not Fancy. She’ll run out of the bathroom shaking herself all over anything she can find, but then she’ll come back and hang around while I’m cleaning up. I’m not sure what she’s thinking when she does that, but she does it every single time.

  Crazy girl, but I love her.

  Anyway. When I’d finished wiping down the tub—I get a lot of hair off of her during a bath—and went out to the kitchen for a Coke I found my grandpa at the kitchen table working on a crossword puzzle like nothing had happened.

  “You’re back,” I said, sitting down across from him.

  “I am.”

  “Did they clear you? Is it okay?”

  He shook his head. His hand trembled as he tried to fill in his crossword. I reached out to put my hand on his forearm where his Born to Lose tattoo was, the faded green snake wrapped around a dagger a reminder that his life hadn’t always been coaching baseball and going to church in a small town.

  “So what happened? What did they say? What now?”

  He set the pen down. “They said Jack was probably killed sometime the afternoon of the sixteenth.”

  “The day after I arrived then. So the same day you threatened him.”

  He nodded.

  “While I was at the store with Jamie.”

  He shrugged. “That’s what it looks like.”

  “What did you do after I left that day?”

  He reached for his non-existent cigarettes and cussed, slapping the table in frustration. “I’ll tell you what I didn’t do. I didn’t track that man up the side of a mountain and gun him down with my shotgun.”

  “Grandpa. I wasn’t saying you had. Was Lesley here that day?”

  “You’re not bringing her into this, Maggie May.”

  I was too going to bring her into it if they arrested him, but for the time being I let it go. “So what now?”

  “Matt said they don’t have enough to arrest me just yet, but that I should stick around town.”

  “Do they have any other suspects?”

  “I don’t know. Why should they keep looking? It was my gun and the man was shot behind my house. I suspect it’s only a matter of time before they make it official.”

  “Grandpa, if Lesley was here you have to tell them.”

  He shoved away from the table. “No, I don’t.”

  “But you could go to jail.”

  He stared out the kitchen window for a long moment. “I’ve done time before, I can do it again.”

  “Grandpa! You’re eighty-two-years-old, you can’t go to prison.”

  But he wasn’t listening. He’d already turned his back and headed to his room. Stubborn old man. I glared after him for a long moment before making up my mind. If he wasn’t going to give the police his alibi, then I was.

  Chapter Eleven

  The library was at the edge of town in a shiny new brick and glass building that didn’t really fit the rest of the town. When I was little the library had been housed in two connected rooms at the top corner of the courthouse, books crammed into every nook and cranny from floor to ceiling, the smell of stone dust and books hanging in the air.

  I’d loved that place. The intimacy of being surrounded on all sides by books had called to my soul even if the lighting was horrid and actually moving around those two rooms had posed a significant health hazard.

  The new place was fine. It had a large central area with comfy couches, four computers along the wall that anyone could use, two large meeting rooms, and a series of individual study rooms as well. I wasn’t sure the actual book collection was any bigger than it had been, but I’m sure the airy space appealed to…someone. Just not me.

  Lesley, who’d been manning the check-out desk, saw me as soon as I arrived. “A big change, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It’s definitely different.”

  She laughed, the deep smile lines on her face showing that she’d always been a happy woman. “I miss the old place, too. It was my own personal hideaway—just me and the books stashed away in those little rooms. I read every book in there at least once.”

  “Really?”

  She shrugged, laughing softly again. “Really. Can’t say I’d ever want to re-read the book on the different makes of Chevy vehicles through the years, but I wanted to know what we had in our collection for when someone needed a book on a specific subject. And you’d be surprised how often that particular book was needed.”

  I couldn’t help but match her smile even though it felt unfair to my grandma’s memory. Darn Lesley Pope for being so nice and likable.

  I glanced around. There was one little girl at the computer; her mother was seated in the corner flipping through a magazine, but paying more attention to us than whatever was on the page in front of her.

  “Do you think we could talk? Privately?”

  Lesley pursed her lips but nodded. “Give me a minute.” She went to the back and returned trailing a young man with pock marks all over his cheeks. “Ron, Maggie. Maggie, Ron. Ron’s the new librarian. Took over after I retired. Maggie used to visit her grandparents each summer and was one of my best customers when she was around. We’re just going to catch up, but if you need me, knock.”

  “Alright, Ms. Pope.”

  We chose the meeting room farthest from the bored mother. As we stepped inside I told Lesley, “The first library book I ever remember reading was A Wrinkle in Time. Were you the one that recommended it to me?”

  “I am. I thought you’d like the main character. And for more than just a similar name.”

  I chuckled. “You know, I made people call me Meg for the next six months after I read that book. Until a couple of boys at school started calling me Meg the Hag, that is.”

  “Kids can be cruel.”

  I settled into a seat while Lesley closed the door.

  “Eh. A few well-placed kicks and they stopped. Too bad I have to resort to words and reason these days…”

  Lesley laughed as she sat down across from me, but then her face stilled and she looked right at me. “Are you here to tell me to leave your grandfather alone?”

  The chair squeaked under me as I lurched forward. “N
o. Oh, gosh. You probably don’t even know yet.”

  “Know what?”

  “After you left, the police came by and took Grandpa in for questioning. The gun that killed Jack Dunner was his. And his are the only prints they could find on it. Also, I wasn’t home at the time they think Jack was shot, so Grandpa’s their prime suspect since he doesn’t have an alibi.” I watched her carefully as I added, “Not to mention, he’s killed a man before.”

  Lesley didn’t even flinch at my mention of how Grandpa had killed before. “Oh, poor Lou. He’s worked so hard to put his past in the past.”

  “So you knew about that? About him killing someone?”

  She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. “You kids are so funny. You all think that your grandparents have always been the way they were and never stop to think that they had a whole lifetime they lived before you ever came along. Of course, I knew about it. It was my sister’s husband he shot.”

  “Really?” I leaned forward. “Was he…a bad man like my grandpa said he was?”

  She nodded, the color leaching away from her face. “He was. Beat my sister every time he got drunk, which was at least two or three times a week. But she wouldn’t leave him. Not until she had her son and he went after the boy. Finally she saw some sense. That night she waited until he passed out, packed up whatever she could find, and came to me.”

  She ran her fingers along the edge of the table, not looking at me as she continued. “Lou and I were seeing each other at the time. He said she could stay with us and he’d protect her until things blew over.”

  “Wait? You and my grandpa dated?” I’d known my grandparents hadn’t gotten together until my grandpa was out of prison and already in his forties, but it had never occurred to me my grandpa could’ve dated someone else before he met my grandma.

  “We did.” She smiled looking back at the past. “We’d been together about ten months when this all happened. Were talking marriage but hadn’t made it there yet. And never did, because two nights after my sister came to stay with us, her husband showed up with a gun.”

  I gripped the edge of the table, trying to picture it.

  “There were about eight of us there at the time—including your grandma and her boyfriend, Gene. My sister’s husband kicked in the door, screaming about how he was going to kill my sister and anyone who kept him from her, and pointed his gun right at me.” Her hands started to shake so she clasped them tight together and held them in her lap. Her smile was gone. “I refused to tell him where she was, so he cocked the gun.”

  She met my gaze. “That’s when your grandfather shot him. Saved my life that day. Probably saved my sister’s, too.”

  I sat there, stunned. How had I never known this story? What else didn’t I know about my grandparents? Or my parents for that matter.

  She twisted her wedding ring around and around as she continued. “I told your grandfather I’d wait for him to get out of prison, but he wasn’t having it. He told me that he loved me more than anyone in the world but he wanted me to be happy and he’d understand if I moved on.” She glanced at the ring and shook her head. “I didn’t want to. I loved him. I held out for two years, but then I met, Bill, my husband, and there was something special there. Something worth pursuing.”

  She looked me in the eye. “Still is. I love my husband to this day. Bill and I got married a few months later and then, the day after I found out I was pregnant with my first child, your grandfather found out he was being released from prison five years early due to overcrowding.”

  “Ooh.” I winced, thinking what that must’ve been like for her. To wait for the man she loved, finally give up on him and move on, and then, just when it’s too late to turn back, find out he was free. “Was this before the armed robberies then?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Your grandfather moved in with Gene after he was released, but Gene had taken up with some bad folks by then and…Well, I’m not sure your grandfather cared much about anything at that point.”

  “Wait. Is this the same Gene my grandma was dating when that man got shot?”

  She laughed. “Of course. Gene was your grandfather’s brother. Didn’t you know that he’d dated Marie before he was killed in that robbery?”

  “I’d never heard his name before. My grandpa doesn’t talk about these things much.”

  “He’s worked hard to put it all behind him.” She twisted her wedding ring around and studied the small diamond in a simple setting for a long moment. “He was out for less than a year before he was arrested for those robberies. By the time he was released the second time, Gene was dead and Lou had nowhere to go. My husband hired him on at the mine, Lou started spending time with your grandma, they fell in love, and the rest is history.”

  “Wow. How did I not know any of this?” I shook my head, trying to make sense of all the crazy connections I’d never known about. “My grandpa said your husband’s sick?”

  She folded her hands in her lap and looked at me, sorrow shining in her eyes. “He’s in the final stages of Parkinson’s. I care for him as best I can, but it’s not easy. Sometimes I just need a break from it all and that’s what your grandfather gives me.” She held my gaze. “I love my husband, Maggie. And I will stay with him and stay faithful to him until the end. But I love your grandfather, too. Always have, always will.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t at all what I’d expected to hear, but I suspected that if I asked my grandpa his feelings on the matter he might say he loved her, too, which was something I wasn’t quite ready to think about.

  So I changed the subject. “Do you always go to my grandpa’s before you volunteer at the library?”

  She nodded. “Every Tuesday and Wednesday.”

  “Which means you saw my grandpa the day after I arrived. The day Jack Dunner died.”

  “I did. I wasn’t planning on it, but he called after you headed out to the store, so I dropped by for lunch and a quick game of Scrabble.”

  “You can tell the police. Give him an alibi.”

  She laid her hands flat on the table. “It won’t help, Maggie. I was only there an hour. He had the entire afternoon to still shoot Jack. And…” She held my gaze. “Think of all the pain it would cause if people found out about Lou and me.”

  “But you said you just talk. That there’s nothing more to it.”

  “We do. But do you think the town gossips will believe that? Do you think that, given my history with Lou and how sick my husband is that they’ll really believe that all we do is talk? Do you think they’ll ever let it drop? We’ll be ten years in our graves and they’ll still be talking about how I seduced poor old Lou while my husband was at home dying.”

  I bit my lip. She was right. I knew she was. Even though I hadn’t grown up here, I’d heard enough over the years. In a small town it’s almost impossible to escape who people think you are, no matter what proof you give them.

  I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. “Do you think he did it?”

  “No. Of course, not.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, he did point that shotgun at him.”

  She reached across the table and took my hand. “Maggie, your grandfather did not shoot Jack Dunner. He told me what had happened that morning, but he was laughing about it. He wasn’t angry.”

  There was a part of me that wanted nothing more than to drag her straight to the police station so she could tell Matt and clear my grandpa’s name. But she didn’t deserve what would happen next. Neither did my grandpa.

  Which meant I had to find another way to clear him. I had to find the real killer.

  “Okay.” I stood up, needing fresh air and movement, needing to think.

  Lesley didn’t move. She was still sitting there, turning her wedding ring around and around on her finger.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled. “For…for being there for him now that my grandma is gone. I think…He needs that. So I’m…I’m glad he has you.” It was hard for me to say, but it needed
to be said.

  She dabbed at her eyes with a small monogrammed handkerchief and then stood up and straightened her clothes and hair, looking impeccable once more. “Thank you for that. I appreciate it. And I hope we get the chance to know one another better, Maggie.”

  “Me too.”

  She left without looking back.

  I took a moment to get myself together, wondering where to now. I couldn’t clear my grandpa by providing his alibi, so now I had to find the killer. But who could it be? Who would’ve wanted Jack Dunner dead so bad that they’d follow him up a mountainside and shoot him? And who would know about my grandpa’s gun? And the argument they’d had that day?

  I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Deciding to solve a murder and actually doing so are two completely different things when you’re not a cop. You know how they say that determination and hard work can overcome any obstacle? Yeah, they’re lying.

  Good access to information, others who know what you don’t, and the authority to investigate where you’re not really wanted are much more helpful. All determination will get you is frustration when you refuse to quit. But it’s all I had.

  So I figured if I didn’t have the information and authority, I’d go to the man who did. Officer Handsome. Matt.

  The police station was only a few blocks away. As I walked there, I enjoyed the crisp spring air and tried to let my thoughts cool down a bit. I cut across the parking lot towards the single-story yellow sandstone building that housed the jail and main police station for the county.

  It wasn’t very impressive inside. It was newly-built, but small, with a central reception desk and four desks behind that, two on each side of the room, facing one another. Behind those were two offices with glass panes that faced the reception area, each holding one more desk. I assumed somewhere down the hallway were the interrogation rooms and jail.