“And apparently a grudge against Violet for nonpayment of services rendered.”
Jolene paused at the last page in the folder, holding it close to her face and tilting to the light to see. “Hold on.” She teased out a slim stack of pages, stapled together, and handed it to me. “A copy of his police report.”
“Kevin’s?” I took it from her. It was mostly petty crime. Shoplifting but no charges, open container violation, speeding, loitering. Six months for petty theft. A recent report filed by Violet accusing him of taking some tin off her property.
I closed the folder and dropped it in the bag.
“Anything else?”
“Other than this picture of Harry with Violet? Nope.”
Jolene took the picture and glanced at it. “Are you going to tell the chief?”
“If I fess up to it, we will be in trouble.”
“You need to. Stay on the up and up about this, Naomi.”
Jolene was right.
But just to be stubborn, I would take Winston as well.
Be all skeptical about Winston’s ability to be a reliable witness, will you, Chief Reed?
I’ll show him.
As long as he didn’t throw me in jail.
It was a risk but this was important.
Chapter Eight
Winston was over the moon when I brought his squeaks to him. The entire night he shifted from sleeping on the bed with me and on his bed on the floor. It didn’t lend itself to a restful sleep.
In the middle of the night, soft squeaks woke me as Winston curled up in his bed to gnaw on his most loved toy, who had seen much better days. A worn, yellow pony that showed years of dirt and, ugh, I’d rather not think on it, thanks. Maybe Mom could sneak it in the wash.
He finally settled down for the night and I was able to get a solid five hours before I woke to the smell of breakfast.
We headed down to eat. “Where’s Dad?”
“Shooting range with Ted.” Mom waved for me to have a seat.
Ted Michaels was my godfather and my dad’s best friend from his army days. They were thick as thieves, even deciding to settle down in Harmony Grove together. Ted owned the shooting range and the gun shop attached to it.
Gramma was up. She made my mug of coffee and set it at my place at the table. I fed Winston and freshened his water before collapsing into the chair to sip at the hot coffee in appreciation. “Mom, can I borrow your car? I have some errands to run today.”
“Had enough of the bicycle?” Gramma teased.
“I’m not sure I can walk. I’m not in the shape I used to be in.” Of course, I was totally not going to fess up to running around Violet Pickering’s property.
“I heard from Harry Stillwell this morning. He said the committee decided on the dog show and got the go-ahead.” Gramma hobbled around, moving the finished breakfast foods from the counter as Mom served them up into bowls.
“Great! I’ll let Sarah know and we can start hanging flyers up to advertise the dog show portion of the fair.”
“Sounds like you’re getting into the spirit of things,” Mom said.
“Well, I’m relieved that the plan isn’t to try to hold a real dog show.”
Gramma grabbed some bacon and stacked it on her plate. “Where in the Sam Hill did you get that notion?”
“I don’t know. I guess I was just...” How to explain to my family that my experience in Charleston left some pretty deep scars? “Worried that everyone had expectations I couldn’t live up to.”
Mom leaned in to put the bowl of grits on the table and kissed the top of my head. “Honey, take all the time you need to heal and run the dog show like you want it to be run. We’ll be happy to follow your lead.”
“We love you, Mary!” Winston barked around a mouthful of kibble.
“Well said, Winston,” Gramma said as she buttered her biscuit.
Coffee almost came out of my nose. “What?”
Gramma motioned at Winston with her knife. “Whatever he said, it was heartfelt. So I agreed. Dogs speak from the heart.”
Oh. “Love you, too, Winston,” I murmured
Three things to do on my list today, and I had Winston in tow, so driving Mom’s car was a definite help. The first stop was to Gary Cole Realty to start the hunt for a business property to lease or buy for the shop. Rebecca Cole, the owner’s wife, was very helpful and she took my building requests to start her search.
Harmony Grove wasn’t a large town by any estimation, but the thought of trying to negotiate around the city to determine the real and reasonable properties on a bicycle wasn’t top of my list. I didn’t mind paying for her expertise.
The next stop was the police station to show the chief what I found. Hopefully convince him that I’m not the killer.
This was important. I’d deal with the breaking and entering, the theft, and the interfering with an investigation as it came. It was really important that I not be considered a killer.
In Harmony Grove, reputation was everything.
The chief only kept me waiting fifteen minutes before he saw me. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy day, Chief,” I said as I sat down.
He tapped a few folders on their side and slapped them down into his out box. “What can I do for you today, Miss Cooper?”
“First, could you call me Naomi? I’ve never been the Miss Cooper type, you know? And I can call you...”
“Chief Reed.”
Right.
His gaze flicked between me and Winston, who sat quivering on my leg. “So, Winston?”
“Yes, he is your eyewitness to the murder.”
“You said that before.” Chief Reed leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “And do you have any suggestions on how I get any sort of eyewitness account from him?”
“Mary did it. Mary killed Mary.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed nervously. “Well, I think it’s a little more complicated than that but dogs have been known to be reliable witnesses before.”
“Have they now?”
He was placating me. I was going to hold my ground on this. “There has to be some legal precedence on a situation like this.”
“Naomi,” he said with great patience. And was that a smile? Like a genuine smile? It was hard to tell. He was a jerk. Did jerks, even fabulously good-looking ones like him, really smile? “I appreciate what you’re trying to do and I do believe Winston can be of help under certain conditions, but I can’t take his actual testimony.”
“No, but you can tell when Winston doesn’t like someone and use that as a consideration as to...something. I mean look at him. Winston loves everyone!”
“I do!” Winston agreed. “I do love everyone.” His tail whipped back and forth.
“And that means if he sees whoever killed Violet, he’s not going to love them.”
“I don’t. I don’t love Mary!”
Let me take this moment and appreciate how ridiculous it all appeared, even to me. I had a dog who could speak, but only to me, and the only name he knew was Mary. And he was the only witness to a murder.
I was convinced Winston could lead the chief to the killer if he’d just...consider it.
“I’ll tell you what. When we have a suspect in custody, we’ll bring Winston in to see how he reacts. It can’t stand as evidence but...” Chief Reed rocked back in his chair. Judging by his expression he really did appear to be considering it seriously. “Let’s see how it goes.”
That was all I asked. “So do you have any new leads? Am I still your suspect?”
“Nothing that concerns you, and yes. Everyone’s still a suspect but no, I don’t believe you should be...at this time,” he said, pulling a file from the stack near his right hand. “I got the ME report and the lab results with the umbrella. No usable prints were on it, but it was determined the umbrella was not the murder weapon. Your report of a knife present at the scene holds up. The issue being we’re not sure what sort of knife we’re looking for. As you were s
truck by lightning near the estimated time of death, I don’t believe you have it, or had time to hide it.”
That was a great relief.
“Is that all you had, Naomi?”
“Well, actually no.”
Chief Reed stopped rocking. “Did you go back to Mrs. Pickering’s house?” he asked in a low voice that sent a shiver up my spine.
“Last night. You see, I still haven’t found Winston’s sweater or his collar. Are you sure no one picked up his collar when processing the crime scene? It would be quite distinctive and expensive.”
“Is this the collar she called about the day of her murder?”
“The same one. It’s pink leather with heart-shaped diamonds embedded all around it. He had it on when she left the shelter.”
He pulled a slip of paper over and wrote on it. “Would you be able to identify it if you saw it again?”
“Absolutely. Like I said, it’s very distinctive.”
He tossed the paper in the folder and set it aside. “I’ll be in touch if we find it.”
“And there’s one more thing.”
Chief Reed scrubbed at his face. After an exhale, his hands dropped to the desk. “What else?”
“So, you know, while I was there looking for the sweater, I just...popped into her house to grab a few of Winston’s things.”
“You what? Did you have a key? Please, Naomi, tell me you had a key.”
“Not...exactly. The back window was open and I went in that way. Did you know she had jars of preserved fruit going back decades?”
A side note here: Chief Reed’s jaw muscle jumped when he clenched his teeth. It’s rather attractive in that impressively intense sort of way. I don’t think he was doing that to impress me with his intensity.
“Please continue.”
“Well, while I was making sure Winston didn’t have any medications I needed to know about—”
“Mary loves me!”
“—I ran across this in a drawer.” I set the folder down in the middle of his desk.
“You took this from a victim’s house while we are in the middle of an investigation?”
Oops. I think he’s mad. “Well, your people missed it. I think it’s important.”
“Good day, Miss Cooper.”
Okay. We’re back to using my last name. Obviously being dismissed here.
“Have a good day, Chief.”
“And Miss Cooper?”
I paused at the door to face him. Winston shivered in my arms. “Stay away from Violet Pickering’s house and don’t interfere with this investigation again. Clear?”
“Crystal, Chief.”
Once I closed the office door, I glanced at Winston. “Let’s go hang some flyers. We have a shelter to save.”
Winston and I spent most of the afternoon visiting every business I ran across that didn’t already have a flyer hanging in the window. Every business owner I talked with was more than thrilled to hang the poster in the window.
Despite my initial trepidation, I was getting into the spirit of the thing. The buzz was building, word was getting around and the energy was high.
This was the best part of living in a small town. People, for the most part, stepped up with enthusiasm for a good cause. Pieter and Inge were both highly regarded and everyone was more than willing to help make sure the shelter doors stayed open.
With three flyers to go, I stopped at the Harmony Grove Animal Clinic. Parking was liberal and I found a spot right up front. Off to the side, a white truck sat parked with a trailer hooked up. Various landscaping equipment were arrayed in various stages of use. Off in the distance was the roar of a lawnmower.
The titling on the truck door read Spencer Landscaping. I had no idea which of the men was Kevin Spencer or even if he were on site. It looked like they would be a while so I’d be back to talk to them, and headed for the clinic with Winston.
Like every vet clinic I had been in, the place smelled faintly of cleaning fluid and the air was a cacophony of barks and yips. There were a couple of people with their precious family member waiting to see one of the vets.
I waited patiently at the front desk while the office manager talked on the phone. When I caught her attention she indicated she was almost done. Once she finished, she gave me her attention with a cheerful, “Hi! What can I do for you this afternoon?”
“Hi.” I shuffled my flyers to fan them out on the counter. “I’m um...Naomi Cooper and I’m helping to organize a small dog show for the craft fair on the 23rd. It’s to benefit the animal shelter. So I was hoping I could hang one up on a bulletin board or something?”
The manager took one of the flyers so she could read it. “You’re Galen and Phoebe’s daughter. This is such a wonderful idea. I had heard a rumor that it might be happening. And it’s to raise money for Inge’s shelter. That’s a great thing.”
The woman stood up and moved some flyers around to tack it up so it would be seen front and center. “There. Is that okay?”
I joined her at the board. There were a few advertisements for lost animals, or found animals, a pet cemetery, a transcription service, buying houses for cash...the usual array of eclectic services available in any small town looking to supplement meager incomes. “That’s perfect. Thank you so much....” I held out my hand to the woman to shake her hand and hopefully get a name.
“Maxine,” she said. “Office manager of the zoo.”
“It’s certainly busy,” I said. The decor was cheery and bright. Real plants were stationed in the corners, a tray of dog biscuits arrayed on the counter and a few business card holders of the two veterinarians who ran and worked at the clinic.
I set Winston on the counter and Maxine immediately cooed at him. “Mr. Winston, you’re looking very good today.”
“Hi, Mary!”
“Will you be Winston’s new owner?” she asked.
“I don’t really know. So far no one’s stepped up to claim him. Have you heard anything?”
“Nothing. There’s no emergency contact information in the computer either. Just Mrs. Pickering.”
“Well,” I said, “put me down temporarily. I know how he likes to make his escape and I’d hate for him to be lost now.”
Maxine nodded and sat down at the computer. “I have your dad’s mailing address here.”
“That’s fine. It’s where I’m staying for the moment.” I lightly touched at one biscuit. “Are these homemade?”
Maxine beamed at them, picking one up and breaking it in half, handing it to me. “Yes. Only natural ingredients and no preservatives. The pink ones are colored with beet juice.” Cheerfully, she popped her piece in her mouth and crunched.
“You make them yourself?”
She nodded quickly. “The store-bought ones have preservatives and many of our patients have skin allergies.”
I broke mine in half, giving Winston part and popping the other piece in my mouth.
As far as human cookies go, they weren’t all that tasty. In fact, they were a bit bland. Most likely to doggie palates they were the bomb if Winston’s energetic crunching was any indication. “No added sugar?”
“Nope. Only three ingredients. Peanut butter, banana and oat flour.”
I need to learn to do this for Winston and my clients...when I get them.
“...so make sure you clean her ears every week, Mr. Catalan. That will help cut down on the ear infection incidents. Maxine, could you make Nutmeg a follow-up appointment to have her stitches removed?”
Mid chew, this entirely gorgeous man in scrubs came around the corner with an elderly man holding a half-shaved cocker spaniel in his arms. Gauze wrapped around the middle of the shivering animal. She looked pretty pitiful and was most likely in a bit of pain, judging by the strong smell of iodine that wafted from man and pup.
I wished I had a business card to give the man for when Nutmeg was healed and needed to have her fur neatened up.
The vet’s smile was brilliant and went from pleased to slight
ly unreadable as his gaze went from my face to my hands. He handed Maxine the file.
“Make sure to get Nutmeg a cookie before you go, before the human customers eat them all.”
Caught red-handed. Not sure what to do, I popped the rest of the cookie crumbs into my mouth and smiled.
“Let me drop her off in the car and I’ll be back to pay and make the appointment, Maxine,” the elderly man said.
The vet propped his arms on the counter, fixing me with an appraising look. “Maybe we should start charging for snacks, Maxie.”
Maxine snorted as she brushed the crumbs from her hands. “Oh stop, Doc, you’re just as guilty of nipping one if an appointment runs into lunch.”
“So you eat them, too, do you?” I asked.
The doc snagged one of the biscuits, biting off a piece with a snap. “I wouldn’t let my patients eat what I’m not willing to eat. Hello, Winston,” he said with a scritch behind Winston’s ears. He shared the rest of the biscuit.
“Wouldn’t a dinner date get a little awkward with all the specialty food you have on your back wall.” I gestured to the full cases and bags of the special diet dog foods that could only be bought at vet clinics.
“It might.”
“That sounds like a fun dinner.”
He laughed and held out his hand. “Kane Sawyer, one of the partners here at the clinic.”
When I took his hand, it was hard not to marvel at how gentle he was, even though his hand was almost twice as big as mine. Dr. Kane Sawyer was not a small man by any stretch of the imagination, standing almost the same height as Dad and Chief Reed. Dr. Sawyer exuded an easy, reassuring air that I knew the animals in his care responded to well.
His hair was longer and pulled into a pony tail to keep it out of his way. Clearly, it was thick and healthy. It was the perfect length to run my hands through.
Why was I thinking about this?
Right, because he was gorgeous.
The most striking thing about him was his startlingly green eyes. It couldn’t be an eye color found in nature and yet there was no ready sign they were contacts.
Bone Is Where the Heart Is Page 8
