by Ellen Riggs
I waited for the rattle of the plastic crate to fade away and added an extra minute or two in case she forgot something.
Then I threw back the tarp and moved faster than I probably ever had in my life.
Jilly said nothing as we rode in the cab back to my pickup. Absolutely nothing. It was no longer a companionable silence but an angry one, and I’d felt nothing quite like it in our 15 years of friendship.
Keats on the other hand could not have been more delighted with me. There was room between Jilly and me in the back seat of the cab, but he insisted on sitting in my lap. It wasn’t terribly comfortable given what I was concealing. He wriggled, licked my face and fanned his tail in a low wag that told me how worried he’d been about me. Jilly had worried, too, I knew, but she certainly wasn’t going to give me the big sloppy smile Keats had on his face.
“I can explain,” I said.
“Good.” Her green eyes were as cool as a frozen pond. “Because Kellan is meeting us at your truck.”
“Perfect.” I let out a huge sigh of relief. “I don’t want to hold onto this thing one second longer than necessary.”
She gestured to the cab driver in front of us. “Let’s talk about it in a few minutes.”
It really was only a few minutes. Tess had been heading for the Animal Services building that sat on the far side of town when she got called to Teri Mason’s store, which wasn’t far from where we’d left the truck. Poor Teri was probably busy explaining right now how the rabid racoon had mysteriously vanished. Hopefully she’d be able to convince Tess it was all a big mistake so the stray dog wouldn’t have to sit in the truck too long.
When the cab dropped us off, there was no sign of the police SUV. We got inside to wait and Jilly raised her eyebrows. I opened my jacket and pulled back the towel, expecting shock… dismay… something.
“What exactly is that?” she said. “Bolt cutters?”
“Sort of.” The 18-inch-long contraption looked like pliers, with handles at one end and rounded pinchers at the other. “It’s a castrator, also known as an emasculator.”
“Okay. But why did you need to steal this contraption from Tess Blade?”
“I didn’t steal it, exactly. I reclaimed it for Senna. Her castrator went missing at Runaway Farm the day she snipped Archie. But when she was lecturing Tess about humane castration on her last visit, I got a funny feeling. I couldn’t put my finger on it till we saw the truck today. Then I put two and two together and realized Tess stole the castrator when she was hanging around after Wilf’s murder. She was inside the barn that morning, so she had access.”
Jilly squinted, trying to keep up. “Why would she want the castrator?”
“Well, either she didn’t want to spend County dollars to buy her own, or…”
“Or what?”
“Or, if I’m correct, this is the murder weapon. I wouldn’t take too close a look if I were you. Senna says it’s a bloodless procedure, but this castrator isn’t entirely clean, if you catch my drift.”
“Are you saying Tess Blade used this thing to kill Wilf? Why would she do that?”
“I’ve speculated that Piers Frankel may have paid someone off to do the deed. And they did stop to chat when their vehicles passed in my lane, right?” I shook my head and signed. “For the moment, all I know is that Senna told me she left her castrator behind, and Tess reacted when Senna mentioned it.”
“And you put this together when we saw the truck here today?”
“Actually, Keats put it together,” I said. “He wanted me to search that truck.”
She shook her head uncertainly. “I was here, remember. I didn’t hear him say that.”
“I know.” I patted her arm with a very dirty hand. “He was agitated when he saw the truck so I knew he wanted me to do something. I don’t know how Keats knows what he knows. He was trapped in the stall during the murder, so he must have some idea about what happened and possibly who did it. Look at him now.” We turned to see him positively grinning in the back seat of the pickup. “He’s jubilant. If this thing isn’t the murder weapon, I’d be very surprised.”
She sighed and then nodded. “Me, too. I don’t know how Keats does it, but I trust him.” She closed her eyes for a second. “I just wish I didn’t have to hear you explain all this to Kellan.”
I closed my eyes, too. “It’s so hard with skeptics like him. But I’ll do the best I can. Justice must be served.”
“Poor Wilf,” she said, opening the door as the police SUV pulled up behind us. “A man like him would hate the optics of being taken out with a castrator.”
“No man would ever want to go that way,” I said. “Guaranteed.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dorset Hills had been nothing more than a bigger, equally boring version of Clover Grove when I was growing up. Still, it was the destination of choice for every teen upon getting a driver’s license, because it had a couple of diners where we could congregate out of direct view of our parents. That’s about all the town had going for it then, but it was more than enough. Dorset Hills’ teens headed over to Clover Grove, or nearby Brenton, to do the same thing. Things had certainly changed since I’d left hill country for college.
Today, the sun shone over the more successful town—now a small city—as I piloted the big white rental van around the outskirts. Dorset Hills had left Clover Grove in the dust because of its unique marketing claim of being the “best place on earth for dogs and dog-lovers.” The buzz around Dog Town annoyed me so much that I’d never bothered to check it out on my rare visits home. Growing desperate for distractions for my guests, however, I decided to see what the fuss was about.
Our first stop was the diner once known as Hills Hamburgers. It had been popular because of its extensive variety of toppings and spectacular fries. Kellan Harper and I had our first date there. And our second, third and probably our tenth. We didn’t call them dates, of course. He was my brother’s pal and hence, we could only be friends.
So, on Friday nights, when Asher was playing one of the many sports at which he excelled, Kellan and I would be “friends” over a hamburger at Hills. I took mine plain, with a side of ketchup, and Kellan got the Hills’ Hill, featuring two patties and a massive pile of toppings. The thought of his grin as he tried to wrap his mouth around that mountain made my heart do a crazy new move as I pulled into the parking lot. It was like a kung fu kick in my chest, meant to protect me from romantic incursions. This was no time to let my guard down.
I was both disappointed and grateful to see that the diner’s current incarnation in no way resembled Hills Hamburgers. Instead, it was a prime example of a Dorset Hills makeover. Now it was called the Bone Appetit Bistro. The signage featured a couple of dog silhouettes, and a chalkboard outside promised the Doggone Best Burger in Town. Completely cheesy, but people obviously fell hard for this stuff.
“Okay, troops,” I said, parking the van. “We’re going to split into three groups today and meet back here in three hours.” Unbuckling my seatbelt, I turned to Jilly, who was riding shotgun with Keats in her lap. “Jilly, you’ve got Nellie, Kate and Macy. I’ll take Keri and Paulette, and Ben and Neal will go with Asher, who’s meeting us here shortly.”
“I want to be with Asher,” Nellie said.
“What’s so great about Asher?” Ben asked.
Nellie smiled and ran her hands over hair that stayed remarkably sleek regardless of weather. “Every girl wants a hero, right ladies?”
Kate and Macy chimed in with more enthusiasm than expected. They’d come out of their shells quite a bit in the past few days. Jilly’s coaching was paying off.
“Heroes come in different shapes and sizes,” I said, giving Ben a smile. “We’ve all got the capacity. One day, one good decision and—”
“Ivy?” Nellie said, with a smile that revealed lovely teeth I didn’t see often enough. “We don’t get paid to listen to your pep talks anymore. In fact, we pay you to show us a good time.”
Pa
ulette started to defend me but I shook my head. “Nellie’s right. Sometimes I forget my new role. So, we’re going to have fun today. But no one’s switching teams.”
Asher had insisted on taking the men, probably because they were still near the top of the list of suspects. As a cop, my brother was better equipped to supervise and he might even manage to bromance some clues out of them.
Kellan had sent the castrator to the lab and was meeting with Tess Blade in the meantime. He wasn’t sold on her involvement, that much was clear. Or maybe he just wouldn’t show it because he was annoyed about my exploits in the Animal Services truck. He’d almost vetoed the Dog Town excursion because of that, but at the last moment, he sent Asher to chaperone.
“We should get a say in the teams,” Macy said. “We’re not at Flordale anymore.”
“No arguing, or we have to go home,” I said. “You can stick with the plan or spend the day learning the fine art of manure management.”
The communal groan almost shook the van. They’d had enough of the quaint farm experience, even with the exciting condiment of a murder investigation.
“This is going to rock,” Jilly said. “You’ll see.”
She managed to pull a stack of paper out of her big bag despite Keats being firmly planted on it. He preferred perching on Jilly to co-pilot the van over being relegated to the back seats with the Flordale staff he hadn’t grown to like. Luckily, the van offered a much smoother ride than my truck and driving it boosted my confidence. Kellan was probably right about getting a more cooperative vehicle.
“We’re doing a treasure hunt,” I said. “It’s going to be epic.”
“Are you kidding?” Nellie said. “We’re not five years old. I want to shop.”
“I want to play mini-golf,” Ben said. “There’s a course where you fire the balls into dogs’ mouths and they come out the derriere. Sounds hilarious.”
“Pass,” Neal said. “But there’s a vintage vinyl record store I want to see, and a good comic book store.”
“Just let us go our own ways for once,” Macy said.
I straightened in the driver’s seat. “I hate to say this, guys, but it’s not a democracy. Chief Harper agreed to the day trip only if we followed his orders.” I took one of Jilly’s print-outs and handed the rest to Nellie, who was sitting in the middle seat behind me. “This is a map of all of the bronze dog statues in Dorset Hills. The team that comes back with the most photos taken with these statues gets a very cool prize.”
“A ticket out of here is the only prize I want,” Nellie said.
“Maybe you’ll settle for a spa visit,” I said. “Manis and pedis are on offer for the winning ladies. If the gents win, they get dinner at the new Smoking Dog cigar club.” Rolling my eyes, I added, “I don’t have to agree with the premise to know it’s a sweet prize.”
There was a brief silence and then Nellie reached across Paulette, elbowing the older woman’s chin as she opened the van’s door. “Hit it, girls. I see two dog statues right now.”
She clambered over Paulette, jumped out and started running toward a pair of eight-foot bronze Italian mastiffs. I would have said nothing could make Nellie run, but she was as efficient as a Hollywood cop in heels. For some, a manicure was powerful motivation.
Ben pushed the door open the rest of the way so he could unfold himself from the last row of seats. “Where’s Asher? I like the sound of this men’s club.”
“Pass,” Neal said again. “I’ll play along, but if our team wins, I get to visit the vintage vinyl store.”
I hopped out, too. “Talk to Asher,” I said, as my brother pulled up in his truck. “I leave you in his capable hands.”
Asher flashed a grin at Jilly as he joined us and accepted his treasure map. “We’ve got the advantage, men,” he said. “I know my way around Dog Town.”
Kate and Macy lingered to stare at him, heads tilted like birds, until Nellie’s voice drifted back. “Ladies. I need this prize and I can’t do it alone. There are like thirty of these stupid statues.”
“Fifty or more,” I said, staring at the map myself. “What’s become of Dorset Hills?”
“It’s a bit tacky but I like it,” Asher said. He glanced at the refurbished diner. “Remember when you and Kellan used to sneak over here on Friday nights?”
I looked at him quickly. “You knew about that?”
“Of course. I used to sneak over with Mia Douglas after my games. If you two were still here, we’d go someplace else.”
“Mia Douglas? She was one of my best friends, Asher. You promised—”
“And you promised. The only reason I didn’t call you on it is because I trusted Kellan.” He gave me the classic Asher grin. “Good thing, since he ended up my boss.”
“Okay, you two,” Jilly said. “Skip the sibling bickering or forfeit the spa day to my team.”
There was a chorus of protests behind us, male and female.
“Challenged accepted,” I said. “Paulette and Keri, we are going to kick their butts.”
I knew that was a long shot. Paulette and Keri would be stressed out even trying to compete with the others. That was fine with me. I knew this trip had probably been hardest on them and they deserved a pleasant morning to recuperate.
“What a quaint town,” Paulette said, as we strolled down the main drag of Dorset Hills. “Absolutely precious.”
My eyes were practically rolling back in their sockets at how hard the City was pushing the “Dog Town” theme. But Keats was enjoying the adventure with tail up and eyes bright. That tended to change my perspective on anything. With him around, I hardly had a cynical thought to call my own anymore.
Besides, it was nice to see a smile on Paulette’s face as we posed with the eight-foot St. Bernard bronze outside the hospital, the Dalmatian outside the fire station, and then the wolfhounds flanking the front doors of the art gallery.
When Keri went to take a closer look at City Hall, I perched beside Paulette at the base of the German shepherd statue in Bellington Square. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, Paulette,” I said. “It’s been such a rough week.”
“The worst week of my life,” she said. “My feelings about Wilf were so conflicted. He had a kind side, you know. When he first arrived at Flordale, he bought me lunch all the time and gave me a raise after just a few months. Not everyone treats admin staff so well.”
“Definitely not at our company,” I said. “Your company, I mean. I’m glad you saw another side of Wilf. Nothing’s black and white, is it?”
She shook her head. “He let the stress eat him alive. Piers Frankel bullied him, and he bullied your team. It rolls downhill. I wanted to tell Piers so when he came to see us at the farm, but I lost my nerve.”
“No wonder. Piers Frankel is an intimidating man.”
She looked at her fingernails and then clenched her fist. “It’s hard to believe anyone on our team is responsible, but who else would it be? What if we never find out, and need to go back to work not knowing? I couldn’t handle the stress of thinking it might happen again.”
I tipped my head back, staring at the open mouth of the bronze dog with its huge teeth like scythes. “Chief Harper won’t let that happen, Paulette. I feel like we’re getting closer to solving this murder.”
I really did feel that way, although there wasn’t much to go on. The same thing had happened when we were trying to figure out how Lloyd Boyce, the dogcatcher, had died. It seemed like the truth was fluttering like a black crow around the periphery of my mind but I couldn’t get a good look at it. This time I was trying not to leap around grabbing at it, and aside from my crazy ride in Tess Blade’s truck, I thought I was showing admirable restraint. My hope was that by staying still, that circling crow might land and reveal itself.
Paulette’s fists were still clenched when she asked, “Who do you think it is, Ivy? I mean, if you had to guess.”
“Chief Harper has ordered me not to guess.” Studying her anxious face, I added, “If
it helps, I think there might be suspects beyond our team.”
“Like Avis’ husband?” Paulette asked.
My eyes widened before my poker face could land. “So you did know who it was.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but now I’m done with keeping secrets. I also know Piers was looking for an excuse to fire Wilf. Their performance management meetings stepped up after Wilf drove you out.”
“Why didn’t he just package Wilf out?” I asked. “It would have been better for the company and for staff morale.”
She sighed. “I think Avis was pushing back and she’s valuable to Piers. Plus, Wilf said he had leverage. I guess he had something on everyone… except you.”
“Until I played the ‘crazy’ card by rescuing Keats,” I said, stroking the dog’s head. “I can’t imagine Piers was so desperate to get rid of Wilf that he’d…” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t speculate about that in front of Wilf’s only defender.
“Hire a hitman?” she asked, with a frankness that shocked me even more. “It crossed my mind, but that really would destroy the company if it ever got out. So I doubt Piers went that far.” Looking up at the bronze shepherd, she shrugged. “Maybe he influenced someone to get Wilf into a situation where he could harm himself. Did you notice how Neal kept filling Wilf’s glass that first night? Everyone knew he couldn’t hold his liquor.”
“I didn’t notice,” I admitted. “I was too busy being mortified by my mother.”
Paulette managed a shaky laugh. “The police chief hasn’t ordered me not to guess, so I say it’s Neal. Ben’s more capable, obviously, but Neal had more cause.”
“Wilf hired Neal, though,” I said. “What changed?”
“All I know is that he was meeting with Neal a lot. Wilf’s face was always red afterward, and Neal looked like… I don’t know. What does a weasel look like?”
I laughed. “I’m not quite sure.”
Paulette unclenched her fist to wave as Keri rejoined us.
