In Dog We Trust
Page 17
And indeed, the screen door of the cottage opened. Krysten exited first, followed closely by the mystery man.
“Who is that guy?” Bree wondered.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before,” Jocelyn said.
“He’s nowhere near as handsome as Dan.” Bree put down her drink and pressed her face up against the tinted window. “I bet he’s not as smart, either.” She had to be bruising her cheek from the pressure against the glass. “Krysten may look good in a pink headband, but she does not deserve a man like Dan. The nerve of her, cheating on him two weeks before their wedding!”
“Hold on.” Liam called everybody to order. “We’re sure they’re cheating?”
The car fell silent again as they craned their necks and strained their eyes and watched the two silhouettes turn the corner and vanish from sight.
“I’m sure,” Bree said.
“One hundred percent?” Liam asked.
“Ninety-nine point nine percent,” Bree shot back.
“I don’t like ninety-nine point nine.” Jocelyn nibbled her lower lip. “I mean, they’re obviously close, and she did give him a little kiss—you missed that part, Bree—but we’ll never know with total certainty.”
“We will if we stake out her house tonight,” Bree said.
Liam started laughing.
“You know you want to,” Bree urged.
“No, I don’t,” Jocelyn said. “I can think of literally hundreds of things I’d rather do tonight. And the dogs need me. My mom can’t puppy-sit forever. Who’s going to take care of them if I go to jail on a stalking charge?”
“Whoever the trustees name,” Liam said.
“Ooh, someone’s bitter,” Bree sing-songed.
“Says the woman who’s trying to frame the fiancée of her high school boyfriend for infidelity,” Jocelyn interjected.
“It’s not framing if it’s factual,” Liam said.
“You know what, Liam? I like you,” Bree said.
“Is this what people do in Black Dog Bay?” Liam asked. “Drive around trying to incriminate each other?”
“Yes,” Jocelyn confirmed. “We like to call it ‘being neighborly.’”
“Stop chitchatting and put this thing in gear!” Bree commanded. “The suspects are getting away!”
Liam did as directed. Carmen hunkered down for a nap in the backseat. Jocelyn dialed her cell phone.
“Hi, Mom. Are you okay to stay with George Clooney and company for a few more hours? Bree’s making me go on a stakeout against my will.” She hung up with a sigh. “You’d think she’d ask a few follow-up questions, but she doesn’t want to know.”
“She doesn’t need to ask questions,” Bree said. “She knows I have excellent judgment.”
“That’s one way to look at it. Listen, I know we’re on a high-stakes mission and all, but can we stop by the drive-through on our way?” Jocelyn asked. “I’m starving.”
Bree shook her head. “You would make a terrible detective.”
“Whatever. I’m thinking ahead.”
“Drive-through it is.” Liam got all the way to the intersection before the realization occurred. “But where’s the nearest drive-through?”
* * *
• • •
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let us get fries,” Jocelyn said to Bree for the third time as they passed a pair of binoculars back and forth. “My stomach can tell the difference between fast food and gas station garbage.”
“Detouring all the way to Rehoboth defeats the purpose of a drive-through, which is to save time,” Bree retorted. “Don’t act like you’re too high and mighty for a week-old reheated burrito and bag of chips.”
Jocelyn appealed to Liam. “It’s your car. You’re driving. Why didn’t you overrule her?”
Liam’s lips twitched as he gazed out onto the dark shadows obscuring Krysten’s lawn. “She scares me.”
Bree seemed delighted to hear this.
“Besides,” he continued. “She’s your best friend. If she doesn’t like me, I’m screwed.”
“He’s a smart one,” Bree said to Jocelyn. “You should hang on to him.”
Jocelyn turned back to the house, which was entirely dark except for the flickering blue light of a television in a back room. “This is like the worst made-for-TV movie ever. Amateur sleuths with a score to settle, a palm reader in denial who’s hoping to be reunited with her long-lost love . . .”
“And a dog,” Liam added.
“Forget movie of the week, this could be a whole Netflix series.” Jocelyn shifted in her seat. “How long do we have to stay out here?”
“As long as it takes to catch her in the act,” Bree said.
“We may never catch her in the act,” Jocelyn pointed out.
“Ye of little faith.” Bree shucked off her jacket and made herself comfortable. “This dog is a seat hog. She’s taking up two thirds of the backseat!”
“She’s even worse with the bed.”
“Well, go ahead and nap if you want,” Bree said. “I’m in this for the long haul. I’ve had two cups of coffee and a will of iron. I’m wide awake ’til dawn.”
* * *
• • •
“Is she out?” Jocelyn whispered forty-five minutes later, glancing into the shadows of the backseat, where Bree and Carmen were draped over one another in a somnolent turf war.
“She’s out,” Liam confirmed.
“I should have brought blankets and teddy bears.” Jocelyn smiled at the naptime tableau. Then she turned her attention back to the house. “What do you think is going on in there?”
“I don’t know.” He reclined his seatback. “What I do know is that with a little landscaping and some fresh paint, maybe some HVAC renovations, this house would gain about thirty percent in value.”
“How do you know that?” she asked. “It’s pitch-black out. I can’t even see what color the paint is now.”
“Look at the neighborhood. Quiet and residential, but it’s in a good location, close to the beach and close to downtown. This area’s transitioning to a mix of local families and seasonal second homes. If you updated it just the right amount, you could make a decent profit.”
“Flip or Flop: Stakeout Edition.”
“Maybe this woman is cheating on her fiancé, maybe she’s not.” Liam shrugged. “But one thing is certain: She could do a lot with her house.”
Jocelyn peered through the darkness at the little two-story saltbox. “The day I met Mr. Allardyce, he said something that sticks with me: My dogs are better people than most people.”
He inclined his head, listening.
“I thought he was just old and bitter—”
“You thought right.”
“—but maybe he had a point. I mean, you’d never catch your dog cheating on you two weeks before your wedding.”
“There are so many things wrong with that sentence, I don’t know where to start.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.” They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Jocelyn knew something between them had shifted, but she wasn’t sure what or when.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, keenly aware of the silence. “We should probably call it a night.”
“Yeah.”
“Unless you want to . . .”
He leaned toward her, and she saw the kiss coming. She could have turned her head or pulled away, but she didn’t. She met him halfway with a soft slow brush of the lips.
She pulled away first. “We should go.”
He started the car, gaze straight ahead and hands on the wheel. The drive back to town was tense and silent.
“What’d I miss?” Bree croaked as Jocelyn nudged her awake once they reached her driveway.
“Nothing. You’re home.”
“No, you didn’t.” Jocelyn made a shooing motion with her hands. “Good night.”
“Well, what happened with Cheatergate? Do we have incriminating night-vision photos?”
“No.”
“Then why did we leave our post?”
Jocelyn got out of the car, walked around to Bree’s door, and hauled her friend out into the driveway. “Bye.”
This roused Bree’s suspicions enough to fully wake her up. “Something scandalous happened between you and Liam, didn’t it?”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Ooh, this has gotta be good. You won’t even look me in the face.”
“So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night.” Jocelyn strode back to the passenger seat and climbed in without another word. “Drive,” she commanded Liam.
“Shouldn’t I make sure she gets inside okay?”
They both looked out the windshield at Bree, who was too busy waving and making expressions of exaggerated bewilderment to bother with finding her key and letting herself in the house.
“She’ll never go in as long as we’re out here,” Jocelyn said. “And there’s a key hidden under the flowerpot, just in case.”
Liam slowly backed out of the driveway, glancing back at Bree one last time to make sure she’d gotten the front door open and the hall light on. They made the rest of the drive to the beach house without speaking. When Liam turned into the long, circular drive, Carmen started whining.
“She knows she’s home.” As she said this, Jocelyn realized that she, too, felt as though she were coming home. Already. She’d become accustomed to a house full of designer furniture and bespoke linens in a matter of days. Could she really criticize the trust-fund babies who were surrounded by luxury their whole lives for acting a little oblivious and entitled?
“It was a pleasure staking out strangers with you,” Liam said. “We’ll have to do this again soon.”
“Minus the strangers and staking out,” Jocelyn said.
He put the car in park, took his hands off the steering wheel, and leaned toward her just an inch or two. “Friday night?”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Are you asking me out?”
“Yes. Friday night?”
She leveled her gaze at him. “Nothing personal, but I think that’s a terrible idea.”
“You’re probably right.”
“It’s going to be nothing but trouble.”
He nodded. “Is that a no?”
She paused. “I’ll think about it.”
He reached for his door handle. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“This was quite an adventure,” Jocelyn said to Carmen once they were inside. “But there’s an important life lesson here: Don’t get involved with a guy who wants to litigate your house away from you.” She leaned against the doorjamb, indulging in a moment of swoon. “Okay, maybe you can get physically involved with him, but not emotionally.”
She refilled the water dish, checked on Hester and the puppies, and adjusted Rachel’s blanket, which was slipping off the couch. Rachel refused to sleep in the guest room and insisted on the sofa. Jocelyn smiled when she realized her mother had little George Clooney snoozing away on her chest. For a woman who hated dogs, she was awfully buddy-buddy with the silver Lab.
Up in the master suite, alone in the dark, Jocelyn couldn’t stop thinking about Liam. Maybe the son Mr. Allardyce never spoke to would end up being the very best part of the old man’s legacy. Maybe the money he’d left behind could bring people together instead of driving them apart. Maybe this time, with this man, the pursuit of money wouldn’t be the root of all evil. Jocelyn drifted off to sleep, full of longing and hope.
But all too soon, the sun came out . . . along with the process server.
chapter 21
The dogs started barking before the doorbell even rang. This gave Jocelyn time to roll out of bed, peer out the window, and spot the gray sedan in the driveway.
“What now?” she mumbled, pulling on a robe and sliding her feet into flip-flops as the doorbell chimed. She didn’t admonish the dogs to quiet down. If someone was going to bother her at this hour with no advance notice, they could deal with a little canine caterwauling.
As she made her way down the stairs, she saw her mother poke her head out of the cocoon of blankets and pillows on the living room sofa.
“Go back to sleep, Mom. I’ll handle it.”
Rachel muttered something incoherent and settled back into the covers.
“Hello?” Jocelyn opened the door with undisguised impatience.
A balding man in khakis and a forest green polo shirt stood on the welcome mat. “Are you Jocelyn Hillier?”
“Yes.” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “And you are . . . ?”
He thrust a thick brown envelope into her hands. “You’ve been served.”
“Served with what?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. He just walked back to his car while she opened the envelope and sifted through the pile of documents.
She read as fast as she could, trying to make sense of all the legalese. She wasn’t quite sure what this meant, but she knew who was behind it: Liam’s name was, quite literally, writ large on every page.
And so, at the crack of dawn, tamping down panic and brimming with urgent questions, Jocelyn called the closest thing she could to an attorney.
* * *
• • •
“Look at that.” Jocelyn jabbed her finger at the pile of papers. “Look at it!”
“I’m looking, I’m looking.” Bree was reading as fast as she could, skimming each page before setting it aside.
“Who the hell does he think he is?”
“Well, from what I gather, he thinks he’s Mr. Allardyce’s biological son.”
“So?”
“So he’s saying he has more right to the house than you do.”
“What about the dogs?” Jocelyn bit into a cream-filled doughnut.
Bree kept reading. “As far as I can see, there’s no mention of the dogs in here.”
Jocelyn stopped scarfing down pastry long enough to say, “That callous jackass.”
Bree glanced up from the document. “I thought you’d be happy that he wasn’t trying to take them from you.”
“I am, but he doesn’t even pretend to want them! It’s all about money and revenge for him.”
“Yes, but wouldn’t it be worse if he tried to take the dogs just for spite?”
Jocelyn narrowed her eyes to a glare. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours. Always. I’m just saying . . .” Bree trailed off as she saw Jocelyn’s expression darken. “You know what? Never mind. Let’s concentrate on his evildoing and keep the dogs out of it.”
“Let’s.” Jocelyn topped off her third mug of high-octane coffee. “He can’t do this, can he? I mean, he can’t just rewrite the will because he feels like it.”
“What’s going on in there?” Rachel called from the other room.
“Nothing!” Bree and Jocelyn chorused.
“Uh-huh.” Rachel sounded supremely dubious. “I’ll deal with you two after I shower. George Clooney just peed on my shirt.”
“Here, I’ll get him.” Jocelyn retrieved the warm little pup from the living room and placed him with his siblings in the mudroom.
Bree settled onto a leather padded stool at the breakfast bar and “accidentally” dropped a piece of her doughnut for Curtis. “Liam’s probably banking on the legal precedents set for inheritance law and children. The law frowns on parents cutting their children out of the will entirely. If a will is drafted and doesn’t mention children, it can be argued that it was an oversight.”
“What, l
ike Mr. Allardyce just forgot he had a son? He meant to leave the whole estate to him but it slipped his mind?”
Bree nodded. “If the will doesn’t specifically say that a spouse or child is disinherited financially, they can argue it was a mistake or that the deceased was manipulated or tricked.”
Jocelyn slumped over the counter as a sickening rush of doubt and dread settled into her stomach. “So he might have a case, then?”
“I honestly couldn’t tell you.” Bree tapped the legal papers. “That’s why I have to go to law school.”
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“He can’t have this,” Jocelyn said, surveying the glorious kitchen spread out before them. “No wonder he was all sweet and seductive last night. He was trying to soften me up so he could sucker punch me.”
“Ah, yes.” Bree perked up. “I was waiting for you to bring that up. Tell me allll about the sweet and seductive.”
“We kissed a few times while you were sleeping. No big deal.”
“No big deal,” Bree repeated. “Then why is your face bright red?”
“Rage,” Jocelyn said. “It’s bright red with rage.”
“Fair enough. But was it any good?”
“As good as it can be before you find out that the guy who’s sharing your saliva is a lying, manipulative, low-down, dirty-dealing . . .”
Bree shivered. “Those guys are always the best at making out.”
Jocelyn drew herself up into the primmest posture possible. “On some level, I feel sorry for him.”
Bree’s eyebrow quirked. “You do?”
“Not really. It’s more like I want to tie him to the train tracks and laugh evilly while twirling my mustache.” Jocelyn paused for another bite of doughnut. “But first I have to take Curtis to the dog show. One crisis at a time.”
“I didn’t realize you could show them.”
“The handler and groomer are meeting us in Philadelphia. I’m just the chauffeur.” Jocelyn nibbled the inside of her cheek. “I hope it goes okay. I’ve been so busy with Hester and the puppies that I’ve barely spent any one-on-one time with him this week.”