by Lane Stone
“No,” Mason said. “They speak German.”
“They don’t speak!” I countered.
Lady Anthea raised her hand like a stop sign. “Do you know what an onomatopoeia is?”
“No, but if it’s a German breed, I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a word that phonetically demonstrates what the word means. Words like ruff, or bow wow.”
“That’s what dogs say.” I was still confused.
“It’s what we say they say in English! Germans use wau.”
“You said wow and Ariadne and Wags barked!” I said, finally comprehending.
She gave an exaggerated nod, and Mason and Joey did the same.
“Okay, we know that Billy B. sang German operas at the deli. Maybe he heard German at home. But Ariadne lives in South Africa.”
Lady Anthea shrugged her shoulders.
“Could it be that she was imitating Wags, since Wags barked first both times?” I asked.
“That could be,” Lady Anthea agreed.
“I have to get downstairs,” I said.
As they followed me out, Shelby made an announcement over the intercom.
“Ms. Patrick, you have a visitor at reception.”
The four of us looked at each other and laughed. Shelby had sounded so formal. “Ms. Patrick? That’s not a good sign.” I turned to Lady Anthea. “All Buckingham employees have approval to go to any lengths necessary to take care of an unhappy pet parent and that goes double for Shelby.”
“If she’s not able to make it right, it must be bad,” she answered.
“I’d better get down there. Our code is that if one of us sounds corporate the other comes running.” I started to jog out of the training room but jerked to a stop, like a cartoon character, and turned around. “Wait, maybe it’s just Chief Turner and he wants me to go to Billy B.’s house with him after all. But why?”
Everyone stared at me blankly.
“We all know the only time he ever calls me is when there’s a…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Lady Anthea clutched her pearl necklace. “Might this Billy B. have had another dog?”
“A dog can live without water for three days but would probably need medical attention after one,” I said.
“If there’s a dog at Billy B.’s house, the poor thing’s been alone since early Monday morning!” Joey cried.
“Go!” Mason and Joey yelled, shooing us into the hallway.
The four of us took off for the waiting elevator. I was the first one to launch myself out when the doors opened, swiveling my head, searching the room for Chief Turner. Then I looked at Shelby for help. She pointed to Rick in our store. He was on his phone, pacing, and at each turn his ponytail swung around. I had never seen him more un-Rick-like.
Lady Anthea saw at the same time that the visitor wasn’t Chief Turner bearing bad news, and the relief showed on her face. She looked back for Mason and Joey to let them know it was Rick waiting in the lobby. The two of them went to back up the nannies overseeing the dogs and pet parents in the play area while Lady Anthea and I went to calm Rick down.
The last of the pet parents stood waiting to go out the door to the play area on the side of the building opposite the store.
“Sue!” someone from that group called to me and I turned. It was Valerie Westlake, holding her Shih Tzu.
“I see Rick is on his phone. I don’t want to interrupt so would you give him a message from me?” The words formed a question, but her tone said it hadn’t been. “Please tell him his father’s business plan with my soon-to-be ex-husband is not going to happen!” With each word she squeezed Smoochie tighter. If we were cartoon characters the dog’s eyeballs would have popped out.
“Sure,” I said, reaching to pet her dog and hint that a bit of gentleness might be appreciated. “Happy to.” She turned and joined the others in the play area and I went to see Rick.
Dayle was there, too. She pulled our arms into a huddle. In Lady Anthea’s first visit that would have earned a raised eyebrow, now nothing. “His father said he could look at what he’s calling his important documents and official papers if you—Sue!—came too.” She leaned back against the display of inflatable dogs I’d fake-straightened yesterday. Lady Anthea and I reached for her and each took an arm. “I’m okay,” she lied. Rick’s back was turned and Dayle kept an eye on him as she stood, obviously not wanting him to see that she wasn’t feeling well. “I don’t see how Rick’s father could kill his friend, but it has to be him, right?” she babbled. “Billy B. was driving Martin’s car. Martin got the car back. And Billy B. was left there dead.”
Rick turned and his long, skinny legs got to us in a flash when he saw how pale Dayle’s face had become.
He held the phone down by his leg. “I don’t want this to upset you!” Then he lifted the phone again and spoke. “I’ll ask Sue now.”
I looked at Rick and held out my hands palms up in the universal sign for what the hell? “What about the booby traps?” I mouthed, “Why me?”
“I don’t really know. I guess because you’re a trusted person in the community,” he said, sheepishly.
A voice in the phone yelled loud enough for us to hear without use of the speaker option, “That’s not what I said!” Because I have hearing like a dog, I heard him fine, but since he was bellowing it came through loud and clear to the others. And he wasn’t done. “She can come because I’m a leg man.”
Chapter 16
Lady Anthea and I turned right onto Savannah Road, in the opposite direction from downtown and the ocean, crossed over Highway 1, and then turned onto Plantations Boulevard. Chief Turner had texted and requested the pleasure of our company at Billy B.’s residence. I had texted back asking if there was a dog there and was assured there was not. I’m not a vet but if there was a dog that needed medical attention I had wanted to be prepared. After about a half mile we took a left into the Plantations East subdivision.
I caught Lady Anthea checking her watch.
“Are you thinking about the class you have sheduled for two o’clock,” I said, imitating the British pronunciation. “We’ll be sure you’re back in plenty of time for the agility class,” I said to appease her.
“I’m sure everything will be fine. Shelby has all the equipment arranged,” she said.
There was no need to remind her that it was her email with specifications down to the centimeter on where she wanted the bridge, tunnel, and everything else placed. That’s how Shelby and Dana prepped for the class. Just like there was no need to tell her how much trouble we had before we figured out she meant centimeters and meters after those numbers in her dimensions. During our learning curve we had gone from thinking dogs in England must be able to leap over tall buildings to wondering why they needed a special class to learn to jump five inches.
“It would have been more convenient if Chief Turner had relayed whatever it is he has found in the victim’s flat over the phone to you,” she said. “It must be ghastly.”
Ghastly? I never said my business partner was Mary Poppins. For her, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, whereas sometimes I need sugarcoated detours.
“He did tell us what he hadn’t found. We won’t be walking in to find a dog who had died from thirst,” I said.
We snaked around the townhouses and single-family homes until I saw the two Lewes police cars parked at the curb in front of smaller attached homes. A local locksmith’s truck passed us on his way out. Chief Turner was standing outside, glaring at me and my Jeep. When I was close enough to make out the look on his face I could feel myself getting anxious. I saw more than his usual intensity. He looked vague and confused, and that worried me. For once I needed his certainty. Yes, even his rigidity.
I got out, closed the door, and stood there. I was thinking about how clear and even obvious Dayle had made
the case against Martin sound, even though her conclusion wasn’t what we wanted to hear. I thought about how much pain there would be to get through before the murder was solved.
Chief Turner walked toward me and stretched out his hands. “You okay?”
I took a breath. “There had to have been someone else at my house, other than Rick’s father.”
“The crime scene people didn’t find evidence of that being the case,” Chief Turner said.
Lady Anthea touched my arm. “Sue, consider that Shelby didn’t hear another car. Not in the driveway. Not driving along the street.”
Chief Turner looked at the door of the condo and then turned back to us. “You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”
“You said there weren’t any pets in there!” I yelled.
“There aren’t! It’s something else.” He paused, then nodded, like he was agreeing with something, but nothing had been said. “Let’s go.” He turned and led the way up the short walkway to the front door. When he stepped onto the porch he reached into his jacket pocket for a glove and pulled it on before turning the doorknob.
We stepped into a small neat living room. Stairs leading upstairs lined the right-hand wall. The kitchen and dining area were straight ahead. A tall, muscular Lewes police officer stood in the opening to the kitchen. His latex-gloved hands held a camera at the ready.
The condo looked lived-in, specifically by an older man, and a fastidious homebody. There was a dark green plaid sofa and a simple coffee table. An upholstered rocking chair faced a television on a stand in the corner. There was a fireplace in the corner of the living room and next to the hearth sat a plaid L.L. Bean dog bed, with Wags monogrammed in red. What was wrong with me? “Seeing this is affecting me more than seeing Billy B. dead in my driveway. What kind of person am I?”
“I think when you saw Billy B. you had adrenaline spiking. Now, it’s just, uh, it’s just what it is,” Chief Turner said.
I gave him a look, trying to silently thank him for saying that.
He cleared his throat. “Back here in this spare room is what I wanted you to see,” he said, already headed through the kitchen. The officer stepped aside.
There was a small room off the dining room and John waited for me in there. The room was being used as an office and TV room. The desktop was scattered with computer paper. A step or two into the room and I was close enough to see that they were printed-out newspaper articles. Closer to the desk, and I saw one article included a picture of Buckingham’s. Had Billy B. been obsessed with Lady Anthea? I looked back at her. She was in the room, but standing by the door.
Then I saw what was on every single article. “They each have a photo of me,” I said, incredulous. A few pages had coverage of last year’s Pet Parent Appreciation Gala. One was of the opening day. Another had the account of the arrest of the murderer of our employee. “I don’t get it.”
John nodded once in acknowledgement and then waited for me to say more.
“I mean, sometimes I even bore myself.” I didn’t know how to finish that thought and so I shrugged and threw my hands up.
“You’re sure you only saw him at the deli? You never saw him hanging around the Pet Place?”
“Pet Palace,” I corrected him for about the millionth time. “I’m sure. There are always people around me and someone would have noticed. Besides, I didn’t get the feeling he was like that. You know, a stalker.”
“You’re too old to be stalked,” Chief Turner said.
“I beg your pardon!” Lady Anthea said in defense of my, or actually our, years gracing this planet with our presence.
“The average stalking victim is eighteen to twenty-four years old,” he said, without a hint of an apology. I let his comment drift off because something had caught my eye. I picked up one of the papers, then another. “Look,” I said and held them out to John.
I pointed to the tiny script on the bottom of each page, with the printing details. “This wasn’t some ongoing thing with him. He printed these the night before he died.”
John took a page from me with the still-gloved hand. “And the night before he broke into the Pet Place.” I let that go, too.
“I guess he was gathering information in preparation for that,” Lady Anthea said, leaning over the table from the side.
John shook his head. He was inspecting the sheets of paper one by one. “I don’t think he printed these out to help him case your business. The opening day photo is the only photo of the door. None of any windows.” He stood up straighter and stretched his back. Then he motioned for the officer to come in and photograph the desktop. “Get each of these.”
The room was small so I went to the kitchen to wait and Lady Anthea backed out with me.
Speaking to John through the doorway, I told him about Martin Ziegler wanting me to come when Rick went over his records from Mozart’s founding. “Lady Anthea’s next class is from two o’clock until four. We’ll meet Rick over there after that.”
“And then you’ll work tonight?” he asked.
I cocked my head at the strange question, which had given me a confused, crowded feeling.
“You said you had to work tonight.” Oh, he was talking about his dinner invitation.
“Yeah,” I said, scanning the desk. I was too far away to read the papers and had already seen them, but it was something for my eyes to do. Chief Turner, however, had been leaning over the desk rereading them. Now he straightened. “This should be such an easy question. Who owns Mozart’s if one partner dies?”
There was a table behind the desk with a computer and printer. Chief Turner glanced up and saw me looking at them. He called to the officer to take the computer to the station. I started thinking I should be more careful about what I looked at.
There was a bookcase on the near wall, and I went back in for a closer look. There were two photographs on the top shelf, one of Billy B. holding Wags and the other of Martin Ziegler and Billy B. in front of Mozart’s, arms slung over shoulders and laughing. On a lower shelf sat a stack of opera CDs.
“Sue, isn’t this where you ask yourself what would Elvis do?” Chief Turner asked.
“‘Such An Easy Question’ is the title of one of his songs,” I said, turning to go. “But I have another question. Who killed the guy everybody in town loved?”
Chapter 17
Lady Anthea and I had stopped at Surf Bagel for sandwiches on the way back to Buckingham’s from Plantations East. She, Shelby, and I were in the office eating and talking about Billy B.’s interesting news article collection.
“Mmm,” Shelby said, rolling her eyes. “Their tuna fish is magic.”
I held up my identical sandwich. “I’m addicted, too.”
“For once I’m happy to have an American-size portion,” Lady Anthea weighed in.
“Speaking of generous Americans,” Shelby said. “Sue, did you mean to let Howard Fourie bring Ariadne to both the trick and the agility classes? Because she’s enrolled in both.”
“Generous? They’re paying through the nose. I didn’t have any time to talk to Howard Fourie—”
“You mean, grill him, don’t you?” Shelby asked.
“About their desire to rob Lewes blind? That’s exactly what I meant. Anyway, I’m happy to have another chance this afternoon.” I turned to Lady Anthea. “Is it a problem for a dog to have two classes in a day, and for a week?”
“It’s not ideal. Ariadne is young so it won’t be too much physically for her, but it’s a bit of a waste of money since she may not retain as much as she would if the classes were spaced out. We’ll have to see.”
“The father’s suit cost at least two grand. I think he can spare the money,” Shelby said, pointing at us with a pickle spear.
“How does Howard have time to bring her in for both sessions? Isn’t he busy trying to rip off the town?” I asked.<
br />
“David Fourie is bringing her to the afternoon agility classes.”
“Well, they love that dog and that should earn them points from us,” Lady Anthea said.
“They want to go back to South Africa and dine out on the story of their dog being trained by Lady Anthea Fitzwalter for at least a year,” Shelby said.
My business partner laughed. “Remember last time when I had to lay all that on so thick after we found Henry’s body?”
“Yep,” I said. “And we were grateful for it.”
“We were so afraid no one would come to the Pet Parent Appreciation Gala,” Lady Anthea said.
We finished up and went to the lobby to greet the afternoon students that were trickling in. At some point Chief Turner joined us. He was leaning on the counter to talk. “I dropped by to let you know we didn’t find anything in his files. We did find an office safe. I’ll have to do something official to get into that though.”
“Like get a subpoena?” I asked.
“No, I don’t need the safe to testify. I’ll get a search warrant. Be sure to let me know if you find out anything at Martin Ziegler’s apartment tonight.”
He turned to leave but stopped when Shelby whispered, “There’s Junior now.”
We turned to see David Fourie entering the first set of doors with Ariadne.
“Wasn’t he instructed to bring a standard six-foot lead?” Lady Anthea asked, her annoyance obvious. David had the dog on a retractable leash.
“He can use one of ours,” I said.
David was closely followed by a young woman with long dark hair, dressed in skinny jeans and high heels. She was looking down and seemed in a hurry to come in. When he was between the two sets of doors he realized she was behind him. Being a gentleman, though maybe a gentleman and a thief of our town’s property, he stepped aside to open the inside doors for her to enter first. She looked up into his face and gave him a smile. Of the two females, the young woman was the only one with any intention of entering Buckingham’s. Ariadne had other ideas, as dogs have been known to do. She may have been tired from this morning’s training and realizing she was being cheated out of an afternoon nap, she decided to rebel. First, she put her four legs in reverse. Then she lowered herself in an attempt to back out of her collar, bumping into the young woman, who stumbled. The height of her heels was not in her favor, but David quickly grabbed one of her arms to steady her. Since he still held Ariadne’s leash with the other, he let go of the door they were about to enter.
