by V. M. Burns
Officer Lewis wasn’t pleased with that suggestion, but he shrugged.
I thought about it. “I’d rather get it over with now.” I looked at the policeman. “Can Dixie come with me?”
He nodded.
I handed Aggie to Stephanie and clutched Dixie’s hand. Together, we walked to the wooded area. By now, a host of policemen were taking pictures, videotaping, and leaving yellow markers beside anything that looked like it didn’t belong, including gum wrappers and cigarette butts. At the edge of the scene, I craned my neck and looked at the body lying on the ground. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“Are you sure?” Officer Lewis asked. “Maybe you should take a closer look.”
I backed out. “I’m sure. I don’t know him, but then I just moved here this week, so I’ve only met a handful of people. Maybe some of the residents who’ve lived here longer may know who he is.” Something about the way Officer Lewis stared at me made me ask, “Why do you think I know who he is?”
He stared at me. “Because, unless you’re lying to me, you both live at the same address.”
Chapter 6
It took all four of us and quite a bit of time to convince Officer Lewis I wasn’t lying. We went back to the house and showed him the lease agreement, but it wasn’t until he called the landlord’s mother, Jo Ellen Hansen, that he believed me. He learned Robert Hansen wasn’t expected back from the Caymans until Christmas, but she hadn’t actually talked to her son, other than to tell him she’d rented the house to me. Officer Lewis didn’t tell her why he was asking questions about her son. Thankfully, Mrs. Hansen wasn’t overly curious and accepted Officer Lewis’s questions with as much trust as she’d exhibited while renting a house to a complete stranger without a background check, credit check, or references. When he hung up, he told us he’d have uniformed police notify her about her son’s death.
I called Linda Kay to let her know I was going to be late and why, and she sympathized and told me to take the day off. I had no intention of taking her up on that offer, especially since this was only my second day on the job. However, by the time Officer Lewis left, it was noon. I was hungry, tired, and frustrated. My landlord was dead. I’d fought with my neighbor and actually struck him in a public meeting. I had to question if Chattanooga was going to be the happy place I’d left Lighthouse Dunes in search of. Officer Lewis had looked at me like a homicidal maniac who traveled the country looking for men to murder.
We sat in an exhausted silence for several moments after Officer Lewis left. My stomach growled.
Dixie grabbed her purse. “Let’s go get something to eat.”
Stephanie checked on the golden retriever. He looked up but curled back into a ball and continued to sleep.
I left Turbo and Aggie in my bedroom with the television on for company. We loaded into Dixie’s SUV. She didn’t ask what we wanted to eat. Instead, she headed to a nearby restaurant very close to the mall and parked. Inside, I was thankful there wasn’t a line. We walked up to the hostess station and indicated a table for four. The young girl, who looked about twelve but was probably close to twenty, walked us past a large well-stocked bar to a booth.
Our waiter was a young man with a long red beard and a bald head. He smiled as he approached the table. Before he could speak, Dixie held up a hand.
“Look, we’ve had a rough morning, and I for one need a drink.” She looked around.
We all nodded.
The waiter took out a pen, quickly jotted down our drink orders, and then hurried away.
We sat quietly for several minutes. The waiter must have sensed our desperation because he returned in record time with our drinks. Before he left, Dixie indicated he should bring another round.
He nodded and hurried away.
We sat in peace and drank our liquid courage.
Dixie tossed back her martini like someone taking shots.
I looked at Joe’s shocked expression and burst out laughing. After a few seconds, we were all laughing.
I wiped tears from my eyes. “This is not funny, but I definitely needed a laugh.” I reached over and removed the curler from Dixie’s hair, and she put it in her purse.
The waiter looked even more frightened by our laughter than he had earlier. He quickly brought our second round of drinks, removed the empty glasses, and then backed away from the table.
“That poor kid will never be the same,” Joe said.
I sipped a fruity sangria and looked over the menu. Dixie recommended the Kobe beef meat loaf, which came with mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans with almonds. Meat loaf was comfort food, and I needed comfort at the moment.
The waiter returned, took our orders, and left two loaves of bread on the table. We buttered our bread and ate for several seconds.
Dixie looked around the table. “Are we going to talk about the two-ton elephant in the room, or are we going to pretend it never happened?”
“I’m all for pretending it never happened.” I raised a hand and looked around. “Who’s with me?”
Stephanie raised her hand.
“We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.” Joe sighed. “Although I’d like nothing better.”
“Surely they can’t blame Mom for this one.” Stephanie’s eyes pleaded. “She’s never even met the man.”
Joe shrugged. “Officer Lewis only has your mom’s word for that and...and if I were investigating this murder, I don’t know if I’d believe her.” He looked at me. “Sorry.”
“Well, I don’t know that man. I’ve never even spoken to him. So it shouldn’t take them long to find that out, and then, hopefully, all of this will be behind me.”
Stephanie looked down but then quickly took a breath. “Mom, there’s something I think you should know.”
“What’s that, dear?”
She sighed. “Robert Hansen called. He called your cell phone this morning when you were in the shower.”
I shrugged. “I remember now. The phone rang when I was in the shower. I asked you to get it for me.” I looked at my daughter, who was looking like she wanted to crawl under the table. “Did something happen?”
She released a heavy sigh. “I missed the phone call, but he sent a long text message about how he hadn’t authorized his mother to rent the house. He didn’t authorize pets, and he wanted you out as soon as possible.”
I stared with my mouth open. “You’re joking.”
She shook her head. “I told him that his mother had power of attorney, and she had signed the lease, which was legally binding under the law.” Her eyes pleaded. “I’m so sorry, Mom, but if the police see that text message, they’ll think you sent it and were lying about knowing him.”
“Ugh.” I drained my sangria.
“I’m so sorry.”
I reached across and patted Stephanie’s hand. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. We’ll just have to call Officer Lewis and tell him what happened. Honesty is the best policy.”
Stephanie and Joe exchanged a look that indicated they weren’t quite as confident in this case.
“It’s going to look pretty bad for you, Lilly.” Dixie leaned forward. “Are they sure it was murder? I mean, how was he killed?”
Unfortunately, the waiter took that moment to show up with our food. The shocked expression on his face, followed by a flush that started at his neck and crept above his beard, told us he’d overheard at least the tail end of our conversation. Although he didn’t say anything, his hands shook slightly as he placed our plates on the table. “Can I get you folks anything else?” He barely waited for a response before he scurried away.
We watched him look over his shoulder as he left and burst out laughing.
Joe wiped his eyes with a napkin, repeating, “That poor man will never be the same.”
The food was delicious and plentiful. The Kobe beef meat loaf was everyt
hing Dixie said it was and more. I stuffed myself.
We ate in silence for several minutes until we’d knocked the edge off of our hunger. When everyone started to slow down, the conversation started again.
“You can’t honestly believe they think my mom had anything to do with that man’s death.” Stephanie stared at Joe.
He took a deep breath. “I don’t know, but the address thing looks bad.” He squeezed her hand. “The text messages will look even worse.”
I pulled my phone out. “I should at least read them.” Dixie glanced over my shoulder while I swiped up and read the text messages. Stephanie looked pale. The messages were worse than I thought. Apparently, Robert Hansen’s vocabulary was limited to four-letter words I’d often seen spray-painted on the side of buildings or scratched onto bathroom walls in public toilets. Stephanie’s responses, which all appeared to have come from me, were terse and strongly worded. When I was done, I handed the phone across to Joe for him to read.
He scrolled through the messages and silently returned my phone.
“Well?” I asked.
“At least there was no threat of bodily harm, only legal action.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“But I can explain that Stephanie sent the messages.”
Joe looked skeptical. “He won’t believe she sent the messages. He’ll think she’s lying to protect you.”
“Okay, so what do I do?”
He shrugged. “I’d recommend you stay out of it. Leave the investigation to the professionals, and trust the system to find the killer, but...”
“But?” I asked.
He sighed. “But I doubt very seriously that you’re going to follow my advice. You didn’t listen to me when it came to your husband’s murder, and I doubt very seriously that you’re going to listen to me now.”
Again, our waiter showed impeccable timing and came to check on us at the absolute wrong moment. His eyes got large, and he tried to hide that he’d overheard our conversation, but he was too young and innocent to have developed a mask. “Did you save room for dessert?”
We declined dessert, and Dixie asked for the check. We protested, but she was quicker on the draw with her credit card.
By the time we got home, it was much too late for me to consider driving to work. I changed into jeans and a sweat shirt while Joe and Stephanie took the dogs outside. Turbo and Aggie hurried down the stairs from the deck. The golden retriever moved at a slower pace, but if the speed of his tail wag was any indication, he was doing much better.
Dixie fired up the coffee maker and was sipping a cup at the breakfast bar when I returned.
“That smells delicious.” I sniffed. I walked to the coffee maker and noticed she had already made a cup for me. I picked it up and inhaled deeply before I took a sip. “Hmmm. That’s good stuff.” I grabbed the canister containing the shortbread cookies I’d made in the early morning and brought them to the breakfast bar. I unscrewed the lid.
Dixie looked inside the canister and grabbed one of the cookies dipped in chocolate and took a bite. “Hmmm.”
I leaned against the bar and allowed the steam from my cup and the delicious aroma to waft up into my face.
“So what are you going to do?” Dixie asked.
I took a deep breath. I wanted to pretend I had no idea what she was talking about. However, I knew she was referring to my dead landlord’s body. I grabbed a cookie from the canister. “I’m going to eat a cookie, drink coffee, and spend time with my daughter and her boyfriend.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t know what to do. I mean, figuring out who killed Albert was easier because I knew the people.” I shook my head. “This is different. I don’t know any of the people here. I have no idea who killed Robert Hansen or why.” I ate another of the chocolate-dipped shortbread cookies and suddenly remembered why I’d baked them in the first place. The sudden shock of remembering sent the delicious morsel down the wrong pipe. I coughed.
Dixie looked stricken and patted me on the back. “You okay?”
“I forgot all about Mr. Livingston.”
“Who’s Mr. Livingston?”
“My neighbor.” I gulped my coffee and coughed again. “I need to apologize for hitting him.”
“You hit someone?” Dixie stared. “He must have done something pretty horrific for you to resort to violence.”
I quickly told her about the association meeting as I donned my coat and grabbed the cookies I’d made earlier from the counter, where I’d tossed them when we returned with Officer Lewis.
Dixie grabbed her coat. “I’ll go with you. You need an escort.”
I looked at her puzzled.
“You’ve only been in this house a couple of days and you’ve gotten into a verbal argument with your neighbor, found a dead body, been accused of murder, and struck someone.” She glanced at me. “I’m thinking Chattanooga may have unleashed something primal inside of you.”
Chapter 7
I opened the front door. A man stood on the porch, hand raised, prepared to knock.
“I’m sorry. Can I help you?” I asked.
“I heard you found a dog, my dog.” He looked around. “Were you going somewhere?”
“It’s Michael Cunningham, right?”
He nodded.
“I was just going next door.” I stepped aside. “But, please, come in.”
He came in and looked around. “I heard you found my dog.”
“Really? I didn’t know you had a dog.”
“Yes, my wife and I love dogs.” He looked around again. “Is he here?”
“Not at the moment. My daughter took him for a walk.” I motioned toward the sofa. “Perhaps you’d like to have a seat. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”
His gaze darted around the room. He forced a smile. “If it’s no bother.” He walked to the sofa and perched on the edge.
Stephanie had gotten very fond of the dog and would be disappointed to find its owner.
Dixie sat on the armrest and stared. “My friend found the dog in her backyard, hiding under the deck.”
Michael Cunningham tsked and shook his head.
Dixie was relentless. “How did he get away?”
For a split second, a look of shock flashed across his eyes but was quickly replaced. Michael Cunningham chuckled. “Well, normally we keep him tied up, but someone must have left the gate open.” He shook his head. “I’m always telling my wife she needs to make sure the gate is secure.” He shrugged jovially. “She must have forgotten.”
Dixie’s face didn’t crack. “He looked thin, like he hasn’t been eating. He also didn’t have any tags or a microchip.”
“I’ve been meaning to get around to having that done, but the time just flew by.” He chuckled.
“What’s the dog’s name?” she asked.
He hesitated too long. “Buddy.”
The door opened, and Stephanie, Joe, and the three dogs entered.
I rose and walked over to Stephanie. I was just about to break the news to Stephanie that someone had come to claim the dog when I caught a look from Dixie.
She looked at the golden retriever and said, “Buddy, come.”
The dog sat down by Stephanie’s side and looked at her.
Stephanie looked from Dixie to me. “What’s going on?”
“This is my neighbor, Michael Cunningham,” I said.
“Mr. Cunningham claims this is his dog, Buddy,” Dixie said.
Michael Cunningham rose. “He never was very bright.” He laughed and walked forward with his hand outstretched to take the leash from Stephanie. “I’ll just take him home.”
Stephanie looked on the verge of tears. Turbo, on the other hand, stood very stiff and growled at Mr. Cunningham’s outstretched hand.
“That dog seems vicious. Is he d
angerous?” He stared at Turbo.
“He can be if needed. He’s a police dog,” Joe said in the cold, steely voice he used when he was working. “Turbo, platz.” He gave the German command for down used in Schutzhund dog training.
Turbo immediately lay by his side. Surprisingly, the golden also lay down by Stephanie’s side.
We all stared at the dog in shocked silence. After a brief second, Dixie walked about six feet from the golden. She established eye contact. “Sitz.” Which sounded like fits. The golden immediately rose and sat. Next, Dixie raised her right arm above her head. With her hand in a flat position, she slowly brought it down so that her arm was by her side with her hand remaining in a flat, open position.
The golden immediately lay back down.
She raised her right arm again, this time bending it at the elbow and stopping when the palm was facing up and her elbow and arm were at ninety degrees.
The dog returned to a sitting position.
Finally, she outstretched her right arm to the side so that it was parallel with the floor with her palm facing out. She then slowly swept her arm to her chest so that her palm touched her chest.
The dog rose and slowly walked toward Dixie, stopping only when he was squarely sitting between her feet. He looked at her.
This time she took her left hand and made a circular motion. The dog immediately stood up and scooted his butt around so he was sitting perfectly by her left side.
We watched in dazed silence.
Dixie looked at the dog and then relaxed her body. “Free.”
Only then did the dog relax. He rose and wagged his tail as she praised and petted him and reached into her pocket and pulled out a treat, which she gave him. “Good boy.” She turned to Michael Cunningham. “Doesn’t look like a dumb dog to me. In fact, this is a well-trained dog.” She looked at the dog. “However, I doubt very seriously that his name is Buddy.”
We all stared at Michael Cunningham. A flush of color came up his neck. His ears were red. “Well, he’s my dog, and I’m taking him.” He reached for the leash and once again Turbo growled.
