For a Good Paws

by Linda O. Johnston

  I turned, intending to join Reed and the others—and stopped. Dinah was off to my right, near the parking lot, and she seemed to be animatedly talking to Silas—with Wilbur filming them.

  Heck, didn’t she know better? She was a murder suspect, even if she hadn’t been arrested—at least not yet. She should keep to herself, and certainly not talk on camera. It was too easy to say something unintended that gave the wrong impression, and reporters like Silas were unlikely to erase anything that could earn them a few more viewers because of the harmful implications.

  Ready to pounce figuratively on both of them, I stalked in their direction. I had a feeling that Silas was waiting for me, since he pivoted when I got close to them and held the microphone out. “Ah, welcome, Carrie. This is Carrie Kennersly, who owns Icing on the Cake and the Barkery and Biscuits bakeries, where she is Dinah’s boss. We were just discussing the fact that many people like Dinah, who is relatively new to Knobcone Heights, hadn’t known of Henry Schulzer’s affiliation with this town. Were you aware that he was the widower of our previous mayor, Flora Morgan Schulzer?”

  “No,” I said, glaring into Dinah’s eyes. “I wasn’t aware of that previously.”

  “But he’s been a customer in your shops recently, right?”

  Dinah must have mentioned that, although I figured Silas could have learned it from other sources. Silas wasn’t a customer at either shop, so he wouldn’t have seen Henry walk in with his dogs.

  “Not very long, but his dogs seemed to like the healthy treats we sell in my Barkery and Biscuits shop.” Okay, that was a bit of a plug, but why not take advantage of this uncomfortable situation? “And now, Dinah and I need to get back to those very shops.” I looked at my assistant with a gaze that I hoped allowed no dispute. She had probably driven herself to the memorial service, but I wished we were riding together so I could quiz—and chastise—her. Both could wait till we got to the shops, though.

  The way Dinah kept glancing at me as we walked to the parking lot told me she expected that chastisement. She didn’t try to explain herself—not now, at least.

  Back at the shops, things were going fine—or at least that was what both Frida, in Icing, and Vicky, in the Barkery, told me when I asked. There were still plenty of baked goods in both shops, though, which also told me something: we hadn’t had a lot of customers.

  Sundays were often busy—but quite a few people had gone to Henry’s memorial, so that had possibly cut back on the numbers of visitors to both stores.

  I spoke with Dinah for a short while in the kitchen before either of us got back to work. “I know it wasn’t the smartest thing,” she said, “but most of what we talked about was how I enjoyed research, and how nearly everything I researched was fun and hypothetical. We talked only a little about Henry Schulzer and his behavior at my birthday party, sort of. And that was far from being a motive for me to kill him, though I wish I knew who did it.”

  “Me too.” Was I relieved? Not really. I just hoped she hadn’t said anything potentially harmful to herself.

  Still, I got back to work in the Barkery, leaving Dinah in Icing to help out. I’d left Biscuit at home that day. Not that I didn’t trust my staffers here, but I knew I’d worry less about her if there was no possibility she could sneak out. That also meant I’d try to leave the shops right on time. Soon.

  As closing time finally approached—after, fortunately, quite a few customers popped in to buy treats for themselves and their pets—I was surprised to see Detective Wayne Crunoll come in. Oh, sure, he had his cute Doxies with him, Blade and Magnum, but this obviously was a work day for him. I had a feeling his dogs were just there to try to put me off my guard, as he’d attempted previously. He still wore the white shirt and black pants he’d had on at the service.

  “Hi, Carrie.” Wayne edged his way around a couple of customers still studying the contents of the glass-fronted display case. He held his dogs’ leashes so they had to stay by his side. “How about some of your great carob treats for these guys?”

  “Of course,” I said warily, but when I went behind the counter I pulled out a few sample treats for now. As I gave a second one to each pup I looked at Wayne. “So why are you really here?”

  “Is Dinah still around?” he asked, and I shuddered inside. Was she the real reason he’d come here this late afternoon?

  If so, why?

  “She’s over in Icing,” I said, glad he had his dogs with him. They weren’t police K-9s, so he was unlikely to be here to arrest Dinah with them along.

  Even so … well, I wanted, needed, to know more of what was on his mind.

  “Good,” he said. “Can we sit down for a minute?”

  Uh-oh. It appeared I might be about to get the answers I wanted, or at least some of them. And that made me wonder if I really wanted to know.

  But I still said “Sure” and led him to the table closest to Biscuit’s enclosure, since it was farthest from where the customers still pondered their selection. I told them to let Frida know when they made up their minds.

  Then I sat down across from Wayne.

  I tried to appear nonchalant as I looked into his light brown eyes. He had more than a hint of a dark shadow on his pudgy face, probably because it was so late in the day. And the expression on that face?

  It appeared … well, almost triumphant.

  What was he thinking?

  I found out in less than a minute. “I just got done talking with Silas Perring,” he began. Which made me worry again about what Dinah might have said on camera. Justifiably so, as it turned out. “He showed me part of his interview with Dinah on his tablet. They were talking about research.”

  “She usually talks about that,” I said, hoping that was all she’d talked about. That’s what she’d said, at least.

  “The thing is, she admitted that she would do nearly anything to research whatever book she thinks she’s writing. Even maybe killing someone, or at least going through the motions.”

  What? Surely Dinah hadn’t said something that absurd. “Pretend motions,” I asserted. “I don’t know what she said, but I’m sure she didn’t mean anything more than that.”

  “Maybe. But she also admitted how upset she’d been after Henry Schulzer gave her a hard time at her birthday party.”

  “I’m not surprised about that, but it doesn’t mean—”

  “Oh, she didn’t admit she killed Henry as part of her research, if that’s where you think I’m going with this. But—well, her denial wasn’t as forceful as I figured it would be under the circumstances. I intend to talk to her again. Now, in fact. But I’m not ready to bring her in again even for a further interview … yet. I know that this time you’re her protector, and I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. Still—it won’t hurt for you to know that Dinah’s now gone up a few notches on our list, so you’d better get ready to figure out who really did it.” He chuckled. “You’re so good at that, aren’t you?” His tone sounded sarcastic. “And by the way, I warned our chief and my partner, Detective Morana, that I’d be talking to you. Neither of them objected—and we all seem to be heading in the same direction after seeing parts of Silas’s interview.”

  Drat. Well, it would be better to get this confrontation out of the way now, when I could be there.

  I told Frida, who was waiting on those customers—who fortunately seemed to have made up their minds—that I was going next door, and that she could leave after that order was done, as long as she locked the shop first.

  I helped Wayne put his dogs into Biscuit’s currently empty enclosure, and we went next door into Icing.

  Both Vicky and Dinah were there, a good thing since a few customers remained in that shop, too. I went behind the counter where my assistants stood and asked Vicky to finish up with the people, who seemed ready to place their order.

  Then I motioned to Dinah to join Wayne and me at one o
f the tables.

  Dinah didn’t look happy, but she complied. As we all sat down, she faced Wayne. “Is this about the interview I gave to Silas Perring?” she asked. Before he responded, she went on, “If so, you need to know that, sure, I’m curious. I’ll do many, many kinds of research if it teaches me things that I may eventually be able to use when I write a book. But if what he said, even what he showed you, made you think I’d actually hurt someone, let alone harm them, to learn how it feels to do that, you can be sure that’s not what I intended. Sure, I’m curious, but I’m also a nice human being. I’d only hurt someone by writing about them, not killing them. I thought I made that clear when I talked to you at the police station.”

  Did she protest too much? I hoped not. She made sense to me—but I hadn’t been there for her police interrogation.

  “Telling the world you consider yourself a nice person doesn’t necessarily make you one,” Wayne said bluntly, staring at her. “Although I will say that you didn’t admit to killing Mr. Schulzer. Does that mean you actually didn’t? I don’t think so.”

  “It doesn’t mean she did do it, either,” I interjected.

  “No … but let me tell you this, Ms. Greeley. There are quite a few possible suspects in this situation, and that includes the people who argued with Mr. Schulzer at your birthday party. From what we gathered, you were one of the most vocal of them. And now—well, if I were you, I wouldn’t let myself be interviewed on camera.”

  I silently agreed, but it was a done deal. I still wanted to protect Dinah. “That’s undoubtedly true, Detective,” I said. “But she was interviewed—and I gather that, no matter what else she said, she didn’t admit to killing Henry Schulzer, right?”

  “Right, but—”

  “But did what she say make you want to take her into custody right now?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean she’s innocent. It means—”

  “It means that whatever she said might not look good, but it can’t have been that bad, either. And now I’d appreciate it if you’d leave. We’re about to close both shops.”

  “Fine,” Wayne said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t be back—or that you won’t remain on our radar, Ms. Greeley.”

  We both looked at Dinah. Her large eyes were filled with tears and her lips were trembling. “I understand,” she said. “But let me say right now—”

  I held up my hand. “Don’t talk to him,” I insisted.

  She ignored me—again. “I just wanted to make it clear that no matter what it might have sounded like, I wouldn’t kill anyone, and I absolutely didn’t kill Mr. Schulzer.”

  “Right,” said Wayne, standing up. “I get it. Goodbye, ladies. Oh, and Ms. Greeley, please don’t leave town.” He stalked out of Icing as we both stared after him.

  Eighteen

  Dinah and I both just stood there for a minute. She stared out the door after Wayne. I stared at her.

  She finally turned back toward me, her face pale, her expression wretched. “I guess I messed up.”

  I wanted to say Yes, you did, but she was hurting enough. So instead, I said, “Well, I guess you’ll know better next time.” I hoped so, for her sake. And that assumed there would be a next time—as long as she wasn’t incarcerated for Henry’s murder.

  She lifted her chin almost defiantly. “I didn’t say anything that was really bad, no matter what the detective seems to think. Maybe they’re just desperate to find someone to accuse, and I made the mistake of making it easy for them.”

  “Maybe so,” I said, walking over to her. “But—okay, I don’t want to make you feel any worse, but it’s definitely not a good idea to go public even to describe your love of research, if what you say can be interpreted … well, against you. And I assume this time that was the case.” Trying to make the sort-of accusation less critical, I gave her a hug.

  She hugged me back, but after a moment stepped away. “I know I should listen to you. You’ve been in the position I’m in before, plus you’ve helped to exonerate all those other people who were accused. But—well, it’s done. And I’m still free, at least for now.” She looked me straight in the eye. “Do you really think I could have killed Henry Schulzer?”

  After a split second I said, “Of course not.”

  But Dinah was smart and intuitive, and she read the truth in my brief hesitation. “Then you’re not sure. I understand. But Carrie, please believe me when I say that I’m like you were when you were accused, and like the friends you helped when they were suspects. I can understand—sort of—why I’m in the cops’ crosshairs, but honestly, I really, really did not kill Henry Schulzer. And even if you’re not going to continue helping me like you did the others, I intend to prove my innocence.” Now her expression was angry.

  At me? Maybe. Or perhaps just with the world.

  “I’ll help you all I can, Dinah,” I promised. “But please be careful. Don’t do anything that will make it look like you could have committed this crime. Things like asking too many questions, accosting anyone who may also be a suspect, being pushy with the police—”

  “Fine thing for you to tell me all that when I know you do every one of those things, probably each time you work on trying to solve a murder.” Dinah’s tone was icy. But in a moment she stepped forward and hugged me again. “I know you’re just trying to help me, Carrie. And I also know, you being you, that you’re going to keep trying to figure this one out, too. So let me tell you: please be careful. I don’t want you to be hurt on my behalf, either.” She squeezed me even harder, then let go and backed off. “Time for me to go home. Tomorrow’s Monday, so I won’t be coming in.”

  I wondered if it would be a good idea for her to pop in on her days off so I could keep an eye on her, but then realized that was silly. Maybe. Still, I opened my mouth to say I’d miss her and to be careful, but she preempted me.

  “And yes,” she said, “I promise to stay out of trouble. I’ll probably just stay home and write all my research and feelings down on the computer. Maybe someday I’ll be able to read it again and just laugh at it—or use all the emotional stuff in a future book.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “And … Dinah, you know I care about you as more than just an employee. Please call me anytime if you need to talk. But—”

  “You’re the greatest, Carrie.” She gave me yet another hug. Stepping back, she looked at me as if she wanted to say something else, but then she shook her head, turned, and fled into the kitchen, where I knew she’d grab her purse and leave.

  Which was okay with me. I just hoped she really was innocent—and that, if the cops didn’t zero in on the real killer, they didn’t arrest Dinah either.

  I closed up both shops then and also headed home. While I was in my car, my mind swirled around what to do next.

  How could I clear Dinah, or at least protect her so the police would stop hounding her?

  But what if she really was guilty?

  She couldn’t be. That stupid argument with Henry and his threats toward her weren’t a motive for murder.

  But Henry had insulted her, her career, and her research. And what if she really did want to know, for her research, what it felt like to kill someone?

  No! I was glad to reach home and pull into my driveway. It was time to go inside and walk Biscuit and put this situation behind me, at least for the rest of the day.

  I was delighted, though, that after I went inside and my adorable pup jumped up and greeted me, my phone rang—and it was Reed. We hadn’t discussed plans for tonight, but he let me know that Hugo and he were eager to come over to my place and bring dinner, if I was interested.

  Was I? Heck, yes—even though I’d received a text message from Neal, who said that he and Janelle would be around our house for the night, too.

  Enough had gone on that day to make me delighted to have all the company possible. That included Janelle’s dog Go, as
well as the other two dogs.

  Knowing my brother’s plans, I asked Reed to pick up some pizza and told him we’d have company. He didn’t mind.

  After I hung up, I put Biscuit’s leash on and let her lead me outside. The evening had turned a bit cool, which was a good thing. It made me feel more comfortable taking my dog on a longer walk than we usually did at this time of night.

  Of course, I generally had her with me at the shops and walked her there more often. But she was a good girl, as always. And as soon as I saw Neal’s car coming down the street I ushered Biscuit back toward home.

  Neal had Janelle and Go with him. After he greeted me, he got down on his knees and said good evening to his “Bug,” which was the name he called Biscuit.

  We soon were all in the house, hanging out in the kitchen. “Anything new in the murder investigation?” Neal asked, pulling a chair out from beneath the kitchen table and sitting on it backwards, his legs around the back of it.

  “A little,” was how I responded as I got four wine glasses out of a wooden cabinet near the metal kitchen sink, then set them gently on the mottled beige granite kitchen counter. I told Janelle and him about the media interviews of Dinah, and how one of those had resulted in Detective Wayne showing up at my shops.

  “Glad I wasn’t there for that,” Janelle said.

  “I’d rather he didn’t come at all,” I responded. “I tried to make it clear to Wayne that Silas must have misinterpreted what Dinah said to him during the interview.”

  “Probably he was there because he wanted to find more of a reason to keep her as a prime suspect,” Neal said. “I gather they haven’t grabbed onto someone else, right?”

  “Apparently not,” I agreed. “At least no one they feel comfortable about arresting.”

  We chatted for another minute about what evidence there might be, beyond the murder weapon. Very little had made it into the news, as far as I knew, which could mean police secrecy—but it could also mean there just wasn’t much.