Well, if nothing else, hopefully Duke, Prince, and other wonderful pets from Mountaintop Rescue would find their forever homes.
I arrived with Biscuit at the shops at the usual time. The first assistant to join me that day was Vicky, by design. I wanted Dinah there later, of course, but my mind was already too focused on hoping for a break that would lead to Henry’s killer. I didn’t need her there early, distracting me even more with hopes for that day’s event.
As always on days with special events, the early morning was busy and stressful, and not only with our usual activities of baking, running both shops, and selling goods. Janelle and Frida arrived a little before seven and helped to keep things moving.
Since the adoption event was scheduled for eleven, Billi and Mimi arrived with some of the shelter’s volunteers around ten thirty, bringing the pets who would hopefully find homes that day. Unsurprisingly, the first ones they brought into the shops were Duke and Prince. Both adorable golden cockers were leashed and walked with their noses in the air—fascinated by the smells of the treats in the Barkery. I leashed Biscuit, too, so she could come out of her enclosure for now and join the fun, but I planned to put her back later when we actually began the event. That way, no one should confuse her with a rescue dog available to be adopted.
“So who’s staffing Icing this morning?” Billi asked. She was dressed in nice but casual clothes, even though there was always a possibility her City Council colleagues would drop in to see our adoptables that day. But she wasn’t on government duty. And she definitely was in charge of making sure all adoptions went well.
“Janelle and Frida,” I said. Vicky was helping out in the Barkery. I wanted Dinah to be with me in the Barkery, too, and not just for her wonderful assistance in my shops—or her research. If anything triggered some kind of reaction that could assist in solving Henry’s murder, it might involve her. She remained, after all, a major suspect, and visitors that day who were introduced to Henry’s dogs might talk about the case—and cause others to discuss Henry and what had happened to him … and who had happened to him.
A stretch? Maybe. But I remained hopeful.
A few shelter volunteers came in carrying small crates from which loud meows issued. “Good, we’ll have cats for interested adopters, too,” I said.
Mimi came back in with a basset hound mix and a dachshund, both on leashes. I helped her secure their leashes to the outer portion of Biscuit’s enclosure.
“How many animals have you brought?” I asked Billi.
“Not a whole lot this time,” she said. Her smile at me was knowing. “I knew you wanted to concentrate on Prince and Duke.”
“You’re right,” I acknowledged.
I’d seen that Billi had purchased a small ad in the Knobcone News about our event, so word was out, and not just among my customers who’d seen my signs or people who visited Mountaintop Rescue … or those I’d told about the event, like the media folks. And, of course, those whom I considered somehow involved with Henry Schulzer and potentially with his murder.
My nerves began feeling frayed around 10:45. Maybe this was exacerbated by the number of people I saw through the shops’ front windows walking around on the sidewalk, glancing toward us. Were all of them going to stop in to see the rescues? They could just be regular people wanting Icing or Barkery treats, or even simply pedestrians passing by along Summit Avenue.
I did another check of Icing and confirmed that it was busy, but Janelle and Frida could handle it. When I returned to the Barkery, I watched as Silas Perring and his cameraman Wilbur the Wise entered through the front door, ignoring Vicky, who was standing outside requesting that visitors wait until things were less crowded. Two of their colleagues were with them—Honey Raykoff and Bobbi Hanger, but only Honey came in. She walked around the Barkery and then headed into Icing, clearly not intending to do a story on the adoption event.
Silas was another matter.
Oh well. I’d have preferred for the event to have publicity ahead of time, and I didn’t necessarily want a huge crowd—just one consisting of people who had an interest in Duke and Prince … and possibly Henry. But having a news segment about the event and my shops could help business later—and hopefully lead to more participation in future adoption events.
As usual when he was on camera, Silas was dressed in a suit, with wide, attentive eyes and an expression that encouraged people to talk to him. Behind-the-scenes Wilbur was clad much more casually, in a short-sleeved blue T-shirt and jeans.
“Good morning, Carrie,” Silas said in a jovial tone. This close to him, I couldn’t help noticing that he smelled a bit sweet—as if he had donned some pretty fancy men’s cologne. “And hi to all your animals here. Which ones belonged to Henry Schulzer? That’s why you’re doing this adoption, right? You want to find them a new home.”
“That’s right.” At least, it was a major part of the reason. “Those two golden cocker spaniels over there were his.” I pointed to where Prince and Duke were tethered to Biscuit’s enclosure, as were the other dogs Billi had brought.
“Very nice. Well, I’m not much of a dog person myself so I don’t think I’ll adopt them, but I hope things work out well for them.”
“Me too.” Billi had joined us from where she had been talking to Mimi near the cat crates. “Do you like cats?”
The crates had been put on the floor beside a couple of tables near the large dog biscuit icon. The kitties inside them apparently wanted to be out of their cages, like the dogs were, since they kept meowing loudly. But they wouldn’t do well on leashes, and it certainly wouldn’t work to leave them loose.
“No, thanks. I’m more of a people person.” Silas straightened his shoulders and held the microphone toward Billi. “So, tell our viewers about the animals you’ve brought here for adoption from Mountaintop Rescue, Councilwoman Matlock.”
Wilbur stepped forward with the camera, but before Billi answered, she looked toward the door and raised her eyebrows.
I followed her gaze. Henry Schulzer’s family members had just entered the Barkery. Tula was first, followed by HS and Mabe.
Tula, dressed as nicely as if she were attending another memorial service for Henry, glanced toward Billi and me but hurried over to where Prince and Duke lay on the floor. “There you are,” she gushed in a tone that suggested she’d been hunting for them. “And you look just fine.” She bent and patted them, then stood—with no problem despite her stiletto heels—and hurried toward Billi. “I’ll take them back now.” Her voice had grown hard, as if she expected an argument.
She wasn’t wrong. “If you wanted them, why didn’t you let your family know sooner? Your niece and nephew relinquished them to Mountaintop Rescue, and we’re going to find them good homes.”
Tula’s middle-aged face reddened and she looked ready to explode.
HS stepped in front of her, possibly to defuse the situation. Clad in jeans and a hoodie, he looked even bulkier than he had at his dad’s memorial. I wondered what he did for a living. Nothing that required workouts, I figured. “I guess there was a bit of confusion,” he said, looking surprised. “All three of us discussed the dogs, but—”
“It doesn’t matter what I said before,” Tula all but shouted. “I want them.”
“Because they’re purebreds and our mother used to make some extra money breeding and selling their ancestors?” Mabe Schulzer appeared disgusted. She was dressed down for today’s event, appearing nowhere near as formal as she did at her father’s memorial.
“It’s nothing like that,” Tula screeched. “I like dogs.”
“Then why haven’t you ever owned any?” HS’s round face was getting cross.
“You haven’t ever owned dogs?” Billi took a step toward Tula. “That could make a difference. You see, since the dogs have been signed over to us by heirs of the person who owned them, Mountaintop Rescue has the legal right and
obligation to check out the places where any pets adopted from us would live, and we need to feel assured that the adopter knows what it means to own this kind of pet and would take excellent care of them. And it doesn’t seem like that’s the situation here.”
“They’re my brother’s dogs.” Tula’s voice was still raised but she looked a bit less sure of herself. She maneuvered away from Billi and the dogs. “They should be mine if his kids don’t want them.”
I’d wondered if she would want the dogs for that reason, but she’d waited too long to ask—and didn’t sound like a good fit.”
“That’s not the way this is going to work, Tula.” Mabe now faced her aunt. “Sorry, but—”
“Tell us about those poor dogs and how our former mayor, and maybe her husband, too, used to breed them.” That was Silas. His microphone was thrust in front of Tula’s mouth. “And tell us how Mr. Schulzer took care of them lately.”
“None of your damned business!” Tula shoved the microphone away and stomped off.
The woman clearly had a temper. Could she have had something to do with her brother’s murder? Might Henry’s kids have been in on it, too?
Well, I hadn’t ruled them out, but I also had no indication that they’d been in Knobcone Heights when Henry was still alive. His memorial service had even been delayed a week to accommodate their arrival.
That didn’t absolutely mean they weren’t involved, but it also didn’t make me feel that I needed to follow up with them.
Apparently Wilbur was still filming. “That was Ms. Tula Schulzer,” Silas said, facing the camera. “She was the first person we’ve spoken with here at the Mountaintop Rescue adoption event at Barkery and Biscuits. The event’s primary purpose is to rehome the dogs previously owned by murder victim Henry Schulzer. We’re here to watch—and to make sure those dogs get a good home.”
Silas stopped talking, and Wilbur lowered the camera.
“Are you going to hang out here till Billi finds some promising adopters?” I had to ask. I liked the idea of publicizing that kind of good news—it would help Mountaintop Rescue and its residents … and my shops.
“Probably, or at least for another hour or so, unless something else comes up.” Silas lifted his dark eyebrows as if in amusement. I wasn’t amused, but I figured that was true of all journalists. They’d always go off to another story if something better than what they were working on arose.
I noticed that all three of the Schulzers had gone into Icing and figured they were done with what was going on here. Fortunately, Tula didn’t seem to be pressing the adoption issue any further. I had to agree with Billi’s insinuation that the woman wouldn’t be a good dog-mom, given that she had no prior experience nor apparent interest until it became too late to take the fur babies home with her.
“Very interesting,” I whispered to Billi.
“Yeah, you could call it that.” Her voice sounded full of irony. She walked over to the dogs who’d been the subject of all this. Quite a few other people had been permitted to come into the Barkery by Vicky. Most were down on the floor with Prince, Duke, and the other dogs, and I hurried to put Biscuit back into her enclosure.
Fortunately, Dinah had arrived at some point, and she was giving an ad-lib talk about the two cockers and the dachshund and the basset hound mix, describing their characters collectively as sweet and smart and loving, but also letting people know some standard differences in the breeds’ backgrounds and personalities.
While she was doing that, Mysha slipped through the crowd near the door and into the Barkery. She was dressed as she’d been at Henry’s memorial service, in a nice blouse, long skirt, and boots, and she didn’t have any dogs with her.
Had she come to try to impress whoever adopted Prince and Duke, so she could become their dog walker again?
Mysha had seemed to mourn Henry more than anyone else I’d seen, so I didn’t consider her the prime suspect in his killing either. Then again, mourning could have been part of her process to get over her emotions about murdering him.
She waved at me, but immediately moved through the crowd to where others were playing with the cockers and got down on the floor with them. I moved so that I could see her well. It was clear the dogs recognized her, considering how much they attempted to move around the other people and come over to her, tails wagging and tongues out.
Mysha seemed to settle down in that spot, engaging in a bit of doggy love. I didn’t get the sense she wanted to adopt her buddies, just see them and play with them. I doubted I’d get any further indication of whether she was the murderer, at least not here.
And watching the lovefest she was having with those very sweet dogs, it was hard to think of her as a possible killer anyway.
More people came in and played with the dogs. Some of our visitors also spent time with the cats, removing them from the crates with Mimi’s help, admiring them, hugging them, and laughing about them.
In fact, the first people to be directed toward Billi as possible adopters appeared to be a married couple who’d taken possession of a golden tabby, and then a twenty-something woman who kept laughing into the face of a black cat she’d been holding for quite a while.
I was glad there were some adoptions pending, although of course Billi and her people would be checking out living arrangements just as they would with those who wanted to add dogs to their households. And, sadly, so far the only person who’d expressed an interest in Prince and Duke, at least that I’d seen, was Tula Schulzer.
Dinah must have been aware of that, too, since she once again took a position near where Mysha was playing with the cute cockers and gave a talk about how wonderful they were, loud enough to be heard over the crowd.
That was when Mike Holpurn and brothers Bill and Johnny maneuvered their way into the Barkery. I wasn’t surprised to see them. After all, Mike had actually said he would come when I’d spoken with him.
Good. Now I needed to get them close to the dogs to see everyone’s reactions—both the Holpurns’ and the pups’.
I wended my way through the crowd—and was glad to see that Dinah had now slipped behind the counter and was actually selling treats to some of the people who’d come in. I soon reached the spot where Mysha was on the floor with the cockers and bent down to pick one up.
“We’re going to wander a bit,” I told Mysha, “just in case some likely adopters haven’t been able to get over here to meet these sweet guys.”
Not that I imagined the Holpurns would want to actually adopt Prince and Duke, of course. But to my surprise, Mike seemed awed and adoring when I approached him with Prince in my arms.
“I don’t need to tell you how long it’s been since I owned a pet,” he told me, sounding saner and nicer than any other time I’d talked to him. “Emotional support dogs are sometimes brought to prison to help settle inmates down, but—well, I got to play with some now and then, but not as much as I’d have liked.”
Interesting, I thought. I handed Prince over to him, and the dog licked Mike’s face as he began petting him. Holpurn’s brothers gushed over the dog, too.
And this small episode made me doubt, at least for a moment, whether any of the Holpurns could have murdered a human.
But I shook off that thought quickly. Just because a person was a dog lover didn’t mean he liked people enough not to kill them—especially when a particular person was giving him a hard time.
Still …
Mike soon gave Prince back to me and I hugged the dog close. “That one’s great,” he said. “And I do want to get a dog, but I need to get my life back together first.”
“And how do you intend to do that?” Once more, Silas was near me, thrusting a microphone into the face of someone I wanted to know more about … but not necessarily through a news interview like this.
“It’s nothing I want to talk about here,” Mike muttered, going back to the s
tony, unfriendly personality I’d come to recognize since meeting him.
Okay, maybe I needed to keep him high on my suspect list.
Mike didn’t move away, though, so neither did Silas. Prince was becoming restless in my arms and even making deep growling noises, and I wondered if he wanted to go outside.
Just in case, still carrying him, I headed over to where Mysha was still on the floor with Duke. “Care to help me take these two and my Biscuit for a short walk?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” she said, smiling up at me.
Twenty-Four
It wasn’t a long walk, and when we got back to the Barkery I noticed that Silas was interviewing Dinah. Or at least trying to. She looked very unhappy and kept turning, trying to keep her face from being filmed by Wilbur.
What was Silas up to?
“I wonder if they’re talking about Dinah’s argument with Mr. Schulzer,” Mysha said.
“At her birthday party? They’ve already talked about that.” I know my tone was chilly, but I couldn’t help recalling Silas’s manipulative editing of that interview.
“But—okay.” Mysha shot a strange glance at me, then got down on the floor to play with Duke and Prince again.
I noticed that Billi was with some people who had the dachshund on a leash and I believed that the pup had found a new home, assuming all went well in the vetting. But things looked potentially good, and I was always thrilled when pets from Mountaintop Rescue who’d been brought to our adoption events found new families. I would have enjoyed going over to meet those folks, but I couldn’t allow Silas to browbeat Dinah. I moved in that direction.
Dinah stood behind the glass-fronted display case, but there were openings on both sides and Silas had maneuvered his way behind the cash counter toward her. Despite how she kept moving her head away, he stuck his microphone toward her mouth.
“Why don’t you leave her alone?” I demanded as I reached them. “You’ve already interviewed her—and from what I’ve been told, you did some editing that was harmful to her.”
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