Pooches, Pumpkins, and Poison

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “I know, and they have.” She got back to wiping down a crate. “I’m sure he threw me under the bus the second he opened his mouth.”

  “So, where do you stand with police now?”

  “I’ve been asked not to leave town.” She threw the cloth onto the ground and cried. “I guess I’m a suspect.”

  “Do you have an attorney?”

  She laughed. “Not everyone has your kind of cash. What I do have is my innocence, and that’s what’s important.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed her, but she had looked me straight in the eyes when she claimed her innocence so that was something. “Jennifer, I saw you talking with Traci shortly before she was killed, and I had to tell the police. I didn’t hear what you were talking about, but it was pretty clear you were arguing.”

  She sighed. “It’s okay. I would have done the same in your shoes. You’re right, we were arguing.”

  “May I ask what about?”

  “I’d tried to apologize. I thought I owed her that, but she didn’t want to hear it. She was angry, and I got defensive. It wasn’t how I’d wanted things to go, and I told that to the detective. Bruno, I think?”

  I could imagine how Traci might have reacted. Sam had always been faithful, there was no question about it, but if he wasn’t, and the woman wanted to apologize to me, I don’t think I would have reacted graciously. “That must have been a complicated conversation for both of you.”

  She nodded. “I’ve made my peace with my actions, and I can assure you, it won’t happen again. No more married men for me. I learned my lesson.”

  I hoped that was true, but from what I understood, dating a married man was less about the fact that he was married and more about the woman herself. I wasn’t a psychologist, and it had been years since I’d taken that Psychology 101 class in college, but as an avid reader, I’d run across articles and papers on the subject. I said a prayer of thanks for the life I’d been blessed to have. “What do you think happened to Traci?”

  She stared at me for a moment. “I don’t know, but if her murder and the poison here, if they’re connected, then I think it’s less about Traci and more about you.”

  I flinched, not because what she said sounded ludicrous, because it sounded realistic. “I’m inclined to agree with you, and I’m planning to find out what’s going on.”

  Chapter Seven

  My daughter sat on the couch in my keeping room, her head buried into her phone.

  “Hayden? What’re you doing here?”

  Allie and Bandit greeted her with licks and butt wiggles.

  “Hey, Mom, nice to see you, too.”

  I set a bag of groceries on the counter. “It’s always nice to see you, of course, but it’s unusual to see you without a call first.”

  She placed her phone on the coffee table and gave each dog ear scratches. “Allie’s a cutie. Ferocious, for sure,” she said after Allie swiped her long tongue up Hayden’s face.

  “Yes, she’ll lick you to death if you’re not careful.”

  “A horrible way to go.”

  “I was planning to make a salad for dinner. Would you like some? There’s enough for two.”

  “Sure.” She came to the kitchen and sat at the bar.

  “So, spill it.”

  “What? Can’t a daughter surprise her mother with a visit?”

  “Not unless they’re up to something or want money, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want money.”

  She flipped her phone over and over. Hayden was like her father. She busied her hands when choosing the right words. “A friend from high school called and said your pooch party spot on the fairgrounds was vandalized, and I knew if I called you, you’d brush me off, so I decided to come out.”

  “A friend from high school?” There was only one friend from high school that would even consider calling Hayden and telling her anything, and that was her high school and college boyfriend, someone I didn’t think she’d talked to in over a year. “Justin called you?”

  She squirmed in her seat. “We’ve been talking some lately.”

  I hurried around the kitchen counter and planted my bottom onto the stool next to her. “You and Justin are talking again? Tell me everything.”

  She dipped her head and sighed. “Your kid comes here starving and all you want to do is gossip?” She flicked her head toward the salad I’d left in my excitement to know what happened. “I’ll make you a deal. We eat and you tell me what’s going on here, and I’ll fill you in on some of what’s going on with me.”

  I returned to the other side of the bar and finished mixing the salad while Hayden set the counter. She poured us each a glass of water.

  “Some of what’s going on?” I complained. “Tit for tat, you know. You share your secrets, I’ll share mine. That kind of thing.”

  She dished salad onto each of our plates. “That’s not how it works.”

  I smiled as I sat next to her. “That is one hundred percent how it works. Well, actually, you’re right. It doesn’t. As the mom, I should know more. My life is private.” I tried to hold back my smile to no avail.

  Her tone switched from casual to serious. “Justin said you could have died. Twice now in a matter of days. You have to be careful, Mom.”

  “Justin’s exaggerating, and I am careful.”

  “He’s a police officer. He’s not exaggerating, and you know it. He said they found cyanide on the smashed pumpkins just like they did where the woman was killed.” She placed her hand on my forearm and squeezed. “I’m worried. You’re not getting yourself in over your head, are you?”

  I all but spit my salad out in her face as I laughed almost uncontrollably. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in weeks. Me, in over my head.”

  She groaned. “It’s the furthest thing from funny I’ve heard in weeks, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to change the subject. Please, tell me what’s going on. I meant it when I said I’m worried.”

  From the look in her eyes, I knew she was, and I didn’t want to push that under the rug. She’d already lost one parent, and I knew the fear of losing another weighed heavily on her heart. I held her hand. “Honey, I’m fine, and I promise, I’m going to stay that way.”

  She pressed her lips together and her eyes glossed over, so I hugged her. “Please, tell me what’s going on,” she said.

  I explained everything but it didn’t relieve her fears. In fact, it increased them.

  “Mom, maybe you should pull out of the festival. Give things some time to blow over.”

  I finished chewing a bite of my salad. “Honey, I can’t do that. I have a responsibility to the dogs and the shelter, and the program is going so well. I don’t want to lose momentum.”

  “If something happens to you, you’ll lose more than momentum.”

  “I’ve got it under control. You don’t have to worry about me, Hayden. I promise.”

  “It’s my job, especially since Dad isn’t here to do it.”

  I hated how she’d taken on adult problems that didn’t belong to her. Sam would have hated that, too. “No, your job is to live your life and not fear what might happen to me.”

  She half-smiled. “Because that’s what you do with me?”

  “It’s different. You’re my child.”

  “And you’re my mom. It’s not different at all.”

  She did have a point, at least from a daughter’s view. “How about this? I’ve got to keep my dogs safe, and my program going, so I’m going to find out who’s doing this because I know it has something to do with the pooch parties, but I promise you, I’ll do my best to stay safe.”

  “And you’ll text me daily to let me know you’re okay?”

  “Every night when I go to bed.”

  She smiled. “Just like Dad had me do my freshman year at Kennesaw.”

  Sam had made her do that her first year away for college. It broke his heart even though it swelled with pride that his little girl was accepted into the honors program
there, a mere hour away. For Sam though, it felt like a thousand miles. “Yes, like Dad had you do freshman year.”

  I watched as a tear fell from her eye, and I silently promised her again I wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

  After Hayden left, I snuggled with the dogs in bed and perused the internet for information. The problem was, I didn’t have a clue what I was looking for.

  I searched for Jim Decon, hoping that would lead me to his articles about the pooch parties, and it did. There were twelve articles about the program, interviews with adoption families, myself, and various people in the community. One of them being Traci Fielding.

  It wasn’t exactly an interview about the program but about the festival. Traci mentioned the various events included, and the pooch parties got excellent exposure, though something she’d said gave me pause.

  “I am most excited about the pooch party event,” Fielding said. “Though there are some who feel this program is a potential hazard to the community, I disagree. It’s a wonderful opportunity for citizens to experience the work our shelter is doing to help these sweet dogs find forever homes, and the program founder, Missy Kingston, works diligently with the dogs to train them and give them the skills necessary to be excellent additions to any local family. Regardless of what some members of city council think, the program is an excellent addition to the festival.”

  I’d missed that article when it published last week, which was unusual, especially because Jim Decon usually sent me the link after it went live. I wondered why he hadn’t with that one.

  Our city council meetings minutes as well as videos of them were always available online, so I went to the city website and searched the files. I could access each meeting’s agenda and scan through them to see if anything about the pooch parties, the shelter, or the festival was on the schedule, and I found two incidents where they were.

  I opened the first document and read through the minutes, finding a few scraps of information about the festival, but nothing out of the ordinary. I saved the page and went onto the next, where the minutes led me to view the video.

  I watched, and though a part of me was surprised, overall, I chastised myself for not addressing any of this prior to setting up the pooch party program in the first place.

  A group of residents expressed their concern for the program, saying the dogs would be attractive to children, but because no one was sure of their emotional scars or how they were raised—misinformation for a good eighty percent of the dogs—they feared the children were at risk of injury and possible death, and they wanted the program eliminated from the festival entirely. I recognized most of the group, many of whom I knew personally, but seeing Gina Palencia there, listening to her express her personal concern for the welfare and safety of festival attendees threw me for a loop, a big, twisted loop.

  Traci Fielding was there too, arguing in support of the program, citing a list of reasons that made me wish I could have thanked her for before she was killed.

  Rick Morring supported the idea of eliminating the program and motioned to place it on the council docket with urgency.

  Thankfully, the mayor disagreed, noting his reasons were Traci’s explanation and his own children expressing their excitement about the event. Granted, he’d brought his kids to the shelter, and they’d spent many hours playing with the dogs and volunteering. He’d said he wanted them to learn about the benefits of volunteering, and the shelter was one of two places they’d go to regularly. His children never had any incident with the animals, and he spoke kindly of the program.

  Max motioned to table the discussion, and another council person seconded the motion while Rick Morring’s neck stiffened.

  He desperately wanted the program shut down, and I wondered still if he’d go as far as murder to make it happen.

  The next morning, I followed my normal routine then dropped the dogs off at the shelter so they could play and headed to Atlanta Bread to meet Max. I’d texted him and offered to buy him a bagel and coffee.

  “I watched a city council meeting about the pooch party program last night. Why didn’t you tell me Morring wanted to officially shut it down?”

  “Because it got killed, and I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

  “But in light of recent events, he’s definitely a suspect now, don’t you think? And Gina Palencia? She wanted to nix it too?”

  He sighed. “I didn’t understand that either. Maybe she’s afraid of dogs?”

  “She didn’t really seem to be at my house the other day. Why would she be so adamant about it at the meeting? What’s in it for her?”

  “Maybe that’s what we need to find out?”

  I swirled the last bit of coffee in my mug. “You can bet I intend to do that today. She has done nothing but support the program to my face, so for her to want it killed is surprising.”

  “Be careful, Missy. I don’t want you getting in over your head.”

  “Has the press conference been scheduled?”

  “Not yet. The mayor sent a message to several of us last night saying they are close to an arrest, so he wants to wait.”

  “Did he mention who?”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s got to be Gina or Rick. It has to be. Both of them wanted the program ended.”

  “I don’t think this is about the pooch parties, Missy.”

  “Of course it is. They both wanted them shut down, and Traci didn’t, and now she’s dead, and they tried to get me, too.”

  “The police think you were a distraction for them, that it was about Traci, and doesn’t have anything to do with you or the dogs.”

  I leaned back in my seat. “No, no. That’s not right. This is about the dogs. I’m sure of it.”

  “I’m not sure anymore.”

  “Well, I am, and I intend to prove it.”

  He exhaled. “I knew you were going to say that.”

  I gathered my things and stood. “Of course you did. I’ve got to go. I’d like to talk to someone before I head to the fairgrounds.”

  “Would you like me to come?”

  I shook my head. “I’m good, but thanks.”

  I drove to the police department and asked to see Lieutenant Johns.

  The front desk officer behind the glass smiled. “He’s in a meeting at the moment, but it should be ending soon. Would you like to wait?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He nodded. “I’ll send him a quick text to let him know you’re here. Your name?”

  “Missy Kingston.”

  A few minutes later, Justin, Hayden’s ex, stepped out from the locked door to greet me. “Mrs. Kingston, I had a feeling I’d see you today.” He gave me a welcoming hug.

  “I bet you did, and at what point am I going to convince you to stop calling me Mrs. Kingston? That’s my mother in law, God rest her soul.”

  Justin laughed. “Let’s go back to one of the conference rooms. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.” He glanced at my purse. “You don’t have a gun in there, do you?”

  I smiled. “Actually, I do.”

  He laughed. “Of course you do. Mr. Kingston trained you well.”

  I opened my purse and handed him my Sig Sauer, which he slid through the window to the front desk officer for safe keeping. “Put that in the drawer for me, will you?” he asked.

  The man nodded at Justin and smiled at me. “Nice choice.”

  I returned the smile and said thank you.

  Sam purchased the gun for me two years before he died. He’d signed me up for classes to learn how to use it properly and ever since, I’ve made a habit of going to the range to practice and improve my skills. Since his passing, I felt the need to be able to protect myself with or without a weapon and had begun taking self-defense courses, and in the past year, started a jujutsu class where I’d done well. Being older and alone, one must be prepared, and I wanted to make sure I was.

  In the conference room, Justin pulled out two chairs next to each other
and offered one to me. “Am I going to get lectured?”

  I laughed. “You did worry my daughter needlessly, but it was with good intentions, so I understand.”

  “It wasn’t needlessly. You could have been killed, and I knew she’d want to know. I also knew you’d be the last one to tell her.”

  He wasn’t incorrect. “But that should have been my decision.”

  He nodded. “Yes, but I don’t care. You’re like a second mom to me.”

  “If you’d get your butt in gear, I could be your mother in law.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “We’ll discuss that another time, and I’ll try to call you Missy. Now tell me how I can help you.”

  “I heard the department is close to an arrest for Traci Fielding’s murder?”

  He leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “That’s often something chiefs say when they want to buy time.”

  “So, you’re not?”

  “I can’t officially say, but I have some thoughts.”

  “Okay. I can respect that.” I removed my purse from my lap and placed it on the table. “Is it your opinion that the poisoned pumpkins on the turf were a way to distract the killer’s real intent?”

  He inhaled and held the breath as he chose his words. “Mrs. Kingston—”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Missy. Yes, I worry that this may involve you in some way, but the only thing tying the two incidents together is the cyanide, but until they find more evidence, it’s just a feeling.”

  I sat up straight in my seat. “That’s what I think, and I think Rick Morring and Gina Palencia are involved.”

  He raised his right eyebrow. “You think a councilman is involved in Traci Fielding’s murder?”

  I nodded.

  He glanced at the window into the room and then he stood. “How about I walk you to your car?”

  “But I wanted to ask you—”

  “It’s nice outside. I’m cooped up in here. I could use the fresh air.” He guided my elbow with his hand.