The Pit List Murder

by Renee George

  Parker nodded to Addy then gestured toward the door of the office. “I’m going to go check on the pup.”

  I waved at him then turned my attention to the teenagers. “Hey, you two. You both looking forward to graduation?”

  “Sure,” CeCe replied. It didn’t set off alarms in my built-in lie detector, but her agreement wasn’t quite the truth either.

  I kept my focus on her. “I hear you’re the salutatorian. Your mom sure is proud.” I smiled. “Congratulations.”

  CeCe rolled her eyes but cracked a tiny smile that raised the color on her cheeks. “Thanks.”

  Addy nudged her shoulder with his. “Nerd.”

  I gave the man-boy a pointed look. “There are more effective ways of flirting, Addison.”

  Addy shook his head and blushed, but CeCe giggled, mostly because she thought I was kidding about him flirting. If he wanted to date CeCe, he was going to have to forego subtle. She was headed off to Washington University in St. Louis for the fall semester. If Addy didn’t make his move soon, he’d lose his shot.

  CeCe flashed me a quick smile. “I’m going to head home.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Addy said.

  I gave him a look that I hope said, “Go get that girl.” He gave me a look back that said, “Mind your own business.”

  Ah, well. It would be his loss.

  After they left, Parker came back into the room. He held our new ward in his arms. The dog’s fur was damp, and the smell of mud and blood had been replaced by the medicinal smell of medicated shampoo. The little guy licked Parker’s jaw like he was ice cream and Parker’s smile made me swoon.

  Goddess, that man made my ovaries ache. Seeing him with the puppy was like getting a glimpse of Parker as a dad. A flash of guilt pinched my gut. He deserved to experience all the joys that came with love. Marriage, children, growing old together. Two of the three he could never have with me.

  I gestured toward the pup. “I see you gave him a bath.”

  “Yeah, he needed it.” The dog stretched his neck up to lick Parker’s jaw again.

  “I’m glad he’s not scared anymore.”

  “He ate three cups of puppy food. I had to stop him before he made himself sick.”

  Addy came back into the office. His eyes lit up when his gaze landed on our new ward. “What a cute little bruiser.” He held out his arms. “Can I hold him?”

  “Sure,” Parker said. He handed over the damp bundle of fur to the teenager.

  I watched as the puppy locked gazes with Addy. The kid’s eyes softened, his jaw relaxed, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a wondrous smile.

  “Uh oh,” I said.

  Parker crossed his arms. “What?”

  “I recognize that look.”

  “Hey, there,” Addy said. “I can’t believe how much you look like Smooshie, minus a hundred pounds.”

  “Hey,” I said in defense of my dog. “She’s only eighty pounds.”

  Addy laughed and tickled the pup’s belly, laughing again as he got whacked in the face with a tail.

  Addy looked up at me, his expression almost dazed. “What’s his name?”

  “We don’t know, yet.” I heard the front door ding.

  “Lily? Parker? You all back here?” Ryan Petry asked.

  I noted the scowl on Parker’s face that he quickly tried to hide.

  “Hey, Ryan,” I said loudly. “We’re back in the office.”

  He rounded the corner, his dark brown hair perfectly styled, and wearing a crisply pressed pair of black slacks and a blue and green striped button-down shirt that made his emerald-green eyes appear even more jewel-like. He really was a handsome man. He flashed me his trademark smile, patted the inside door frame, and said, “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

  I tried not to giggle.

  “What can we do for you, Petry?” Parker asked.

  Ryan raised his brow. I’m pretty sure he knew Parker was jealous, and it didn’t help that he did nothing to alleviate Parker’s feelings that he was trying to court me.

  “I have the information on that owner you were asking about. The owner’s name is Donnie Doyle.”

  “Who?” Parker asked.

  I recognized the name right away—the waiter from Dally’s Tavern. Parker had been in there several times since Donnie started working there. I was surprised he didn’t know the name.

  “He’s an adjunct at Two Hills Community College in the computer department. He’s teaching an introductory course while working on his graduate degree at the university.” Ryan shrugged. “He seems like a nice guy. I can’t believe he’d abandon Tino.”

  “Tino?” Addy said. “That’s a weird name.”

  “Short for Valentino,” Ryan said. “The great lover,” he added when Addy’s expression remained oblivious. “Anyhow, he seemed pretty devoted to the dog when he brought him in for a wellness exam and vaccinations a month ago.”

  “The state we found this dog in is inexcusable,” Parker said, a simmer of anger in his voice.

  Ryan frowned, his silky brown hair curtaining his eyes. He walked to where Addy stood and ran his slender fingers over the puppy’s body. “He’s definitely emaciated.”

  “He’s starved,” Parker corrected.

  “Abandonment is a class-C misdemeanor.” Ryan shook his head. “We can have him cited, but the most he’ll incur is a fine.”

  “Or I could kick his teeth down his throat and assure him if he ever takes in an animal again, he’ll be in the market for a second set of dentures.”

  Ryan raised a brow at Parker. “Calm down. I understand you’re upset but getting mad isn’t going to help. We need to call the sheriff’s department and see if we can get this incident officially investigated.”

  “You think I should calm down?” Parker said in a quiet, scary voice. He took a stalking step toward Ryan.

  I stood up and put myself between them. “Do you think they will charge him?” I asked Ryan.

  “I’m not sure.” He kept his eye on Parker but made no move to back down. They’d been high school buddies, so Ryan was used to Parker’s moods. “The sheriff’s department should charge him, but in these rural areas, sometimes animal abuses are overlooked.”

  “Tell me about it,” Parker said, his large, expressive hands flexed at his sides. I knew he was thinking about a puppy mill he’d tried to shut down a month ago. He couldn’t get animal control to do more than give the operation a warning. At least his anger had shifted away from Ryan.

  I raised my hand to get the men’s attention. “Why don’t we go and ask the guy about Tino? Have our own investigation.”

  “That’s not a good idea, Lily,” Ryan said.

  “Why not? How dangerous could he be?” From what I’d seen, the guy was more a lover than a fighter.

  “Let’s call Nadine,” Parker said.

  I frowned but nodded my acquiescence. Nadine Booth had issued Donnie a speeding ticket, so at least she knew him. “That’s a good idea, Parker.”

  He grinned. “I get them from time to time.”

  Ryan pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call her.”

  “Do you need her phone number?” I asked.

  “No.” Ryan shook his head. “I have it.” He pushed a button on his phone. Parker and I waited. I heard it ring, then I heard Nadine on the other end say, “Ryan. To what do I owe the honor of this call?” Humor lit up her every word.

  “Hey, Nadine. I’m down at the Moonrise Pit Bull Rescue with an abandoned pup. I was wondering if you might go check on the owner.”

  “What do you suspect?” she asked, her tone more serious.

  “Possibly willful abandonment. I know the guy though, from the college. I find it hard to believe.”

  “All right. I’ll check on him. Address?”

  Ryan said, “Forty-one Northeast Seven Hundred Road.”

  She’d said the other night that Donnie lived close to me, but I noted the address for good measure. Seven Hundred Road was about a mile
from my place. I loved living rurally. It was especially good for Smooshie. I had ten acres full of trees, which made it a great place to run free.

  Ryan ended the call. “Nadine says she’ll stop by Doyle’s place before her shift ends.”

  I nodded like he was giving me new information. Ryan, like everyone else in Moonrise, aside from my uncle and Parker, had no idea that all my senses were superhuman. Since Parker had found out about me, or rather, since I’d forced a reveal on him, I’d been avoiding any long conversations with Buzz. He’d been pretty unhappy with me about revealing myself to Parker.

  “Lily?”

  I blinked. Parker gave me a strange questioning look. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Why?”

  “You just had a far-off look on your face.”

  Addy put the puppy down, and Tino ran over to me and perched between my knees.

  Ryan chuckled. “Someone has a crush on you.”

  I perked up my left eyebrow, automatically reaching down to stroke Tino between his floppy little ears. “I have that effect.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Parker said. When I met his gaze, he added, “On dogs, I mean.” A red blush crept up his neck toward his ears. The honey scent of him hung heavy in the air.

  “I’ll take Tino out and play with him a little if that’s okay,” Addy said, oblivious to Parker’s discomfort.

  “Good idea,” Parker said. “I’m going to check on Elvis. He probably needs to be let out too.” Plus, after the day we’d had, he probably needed some Elvis time to calm his nerves.

  “And I better check in at the clinic,” Ryan said.

  On cue, I added, “I better go get Smooshie. She’s probably driving your dad nuts.”

  Parker chuckled. “He loves her.”

  I smiled at him. “She’s easy to love.”

  Parker shook his head. “I’m not sure Elvis would agree.”

  I waved my hand, grabbed my purse, and stood up. “There is no accounting for taste.”

  Greer had closed The Rusty Wrench for the day. I found him and Smooshie playing a vigorous game of tug-o-war in the living room of his Victorian home. His wife had decorated when she’d been alive, and in the past ten years, he hadn’t changed a single item except for what could only be described as a small shrine he’d made to her over the fireplace mantel.

  Smooshie dropped her end of the rope and skittered happily across the hardwood floor, sliding on the pads of her large paws, her nails clicking as she danced around me in greeting. I knelt beside her and wrapped my arms around her neck.

  “Hey, girl. I missed you.” I looked past her to Greer. “Thanks for watching the wrecking ball for me.”

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Anytime, Lily.”

  The older mechanic was handsome with his thick graying hair and extra lines in his forehead and around his blue eyes. He was the epitome of aging well. I couldn’t help but wonder if Parker would look like him as he grew older.

  I noticed Greer had shaved the scruff from his face. Unusual for him, especially in the evenings. And he smelled like musk and alcohol. Cologne? I understood showering after a long day of working on cars, but why was Greer wearing cologne?

  Chapter 5

  “Hey, Smoosh. Did you have fun with your play date?” I kept my left hand on the wheel of old Martha and reached over with my right to pat Smooshie’s broad head. She kicked her nose up and licked my hand. “I don’t think Greer showered and shaved for you, girlfriend. I wish I could speak dog because I have a feeling if anyone knows who he spiffed up for, it’s you.”

  I hadn’t planned on going anywhere but straight home, but then I saw the small white marker for 700 Road on the left.

  Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn, I told myself. After all, Nadine would be investigating. I should definitely stay out of it, right? Just because I’d talked to Donnie a few times at a bar didn’t mean I knew him well enough to stop by his home. Besides, I didn’t move to Moonrise to be an investigator.

  And yet, my instincts were pinging hardcore. Plus, cats were curious creatures. In other words, it was in my nature to snoop.

  I glanced at Smoosh. “It won’t hurt to drive past his house, right? No stopping.”

  Smooshie cocked her ears back and forth. I took that as an agreement.

  Less than a mile down the gravel road, I saw a mailbox surrounded by a cluster of tiger lilies, bright orange at the top of tall green leaves, with 41 NE 700 written on the side. This was the place. I stopped the truck in the middle of the road.

  “I know,” I told Smoosh. “I said I wouldn’t stop. But I’m not getting out of the truck. I’m observing.” I wanted to see where Tino came from. Doyle’s place was a red brick ranch-style house with white decorative shutters. There was an ornamental windmill in the middle of a circular flower bed in the front yard. The walkway to the door was lined with purple bearded irises. It seemed a little “retirement home” for such a young guy, but it was nice.

  I let my foot up off the brake and rolled the truck forward then pulled off to the side of the road.

  Smooshie stood up, excitement and energy vibrating her body. She was aching for an adventure. “You’re a bad influence, girl.” As if she had to encourage me to snoop.

  I clenched the steering wheel and debated the merits of walking up to Doyle’s front door and knocking. How dangerous could a man who owned an ornamental windmill be?

  I grabbed Smooshie’s leash from the dash and clipped her in. Having her around tended to diffuse most tense situations. Besides, I could take care of myself.

  The grass was about a week overdue for a trim, reminding me that I needed to figure out how to scrape enough money together to buy a push mower to care for my lawn. My yard was really big, and every estimate I’d received from lawn services was over two-hundred dollars to mow, trim, and weed whack. Buying a push mower and a gas-powered string trimmer would save me a lot of money. Besides, I’d always found yard work relaxing.

  Smooshie yanked the leash, pulling me onto the grass so she could squat down and pee. She sniffed the ground hard, darting her head back and forth with purpose, on the scent of something I couldn’t yet detect. My sense of smell was good, but not on par with a dog whose sense of smell was thousands of times better.

  I crouched down and plucked at the grass where Smooshie had buried her nose. Iron. My mouth watered. Old blood. I felt ill as I tugged on the leash and made my way toward the door.

  The faint scent of decomposing flesh chilled me, not because it was super strong, but because it was present at all. Why had I turned left, for goddess’ sake?

  The blood alone wasn’t a huge deal, but there was no escaping what that other smell meant. Something or someone was dead in the house.

  Smooshie lunged at the door, and I pulled her back. “We can’t go in.” I dug into my purse to find my phone. Nadine needed to investigate Doyle now, not later.

  I pulled it out just as Smooshie yanked again, her instinct overriding her manners, and my cell phone ripped from my hand and dropped onto the concrete sidewalk.

  The cracking noise when it hit startled my excited pittie long enough for me to rein her in so I could pick it up.

  The blackened screen looked like a spider went to town on a crazy, densely threaded web.

  “Shoot.”

  Smooshie looked up at me, her wide face split in a grin, tongue lolling out the side while she panted eagerly.

  “No,” I told her. “We’re not going in the house, so you can wipe that smile right off your face, young lady.”

  Smooshie hopped up and pawed at the air in front of me before settling down on all fours again, her tail stirring up a breeze like an accordion-fold fan.

  “Nope,” I said. However, my phone was trashed, and it was either go in and find Doyle’s phone to call Nadine or drive all the way back to town. But what if someone was hurt inside? I would feel awful if I could have helped an injured person and didn’t.

  Oh, who was
I kidding? There was nothing alive in that house. That stench could only come from something dead.

  A phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  “Holy smokes,” I whispered as my pulse fluttered in my neck. The phone rang again. And again. I could go in and answer it. After, I’d use that phone to call Nadine.

  It was a plan. Not a great plan, but a plan all the same. I wrapped the dog’s leash around my hand multiple times, reeling her into my side. I took my training clicker from my pocket as added backup. “You behave. Whatever we find in there.”

  The screen door was unlocked and the latch broken. The main door was ajar. The scent of death, lemon, and pine—a caustic combination—inundated my senses. I held my breath.

  Smooshie jerked me forward. I pulled her back. Maybe I should drive back to town, I thought, as I turned the corner just inside the door to the kitchen.

  Donnie Doyle lay on his stomach on the floor, his head turned to the right toward me, which made it easy to identify him. Blood had dripped down from a gash on the side of his head to the crown of his forehead, darkening his brows. His head was surrounded by dried blood, but I didn’t see any blood anywhere else. There was a smear of oil by his bare feet, and the bottom of his left foot was glistening.

  An accident? Maybe. But the brownish-red stain on his cheeks and hands threw me off. I’d never seen anything like it, not even in all the medical books I’d read. A small amount of white stuff, maybe spittle, crusted at the corner of his mouth.

  I looked around the room. I didn’t see anything that would cause any of the damage I was seeing. Had he had a seizure and hit his head when he fell?

  I detected the reek of putrefaction, all signs of the body digesting itself. Donnie Doyle had been dead for a week, at least. I had to suppress my revulsion as the full force of pungent decay overwhelmed me. It was as if rotten eggs dipped in ammonia had taken a bath in a sulfur spring multiplied by ten.

  Smooshie began to whine, her body hugging tightly against my leg.