The Case of the Abandoned Aussie

by B R Snow

  “Yes, she’ll be there,” I said. “She runs the meeting. So pay attention.”

  “Oh, I will,” Sammy said, making another note. “I’ll be there at four thirty.”

  “We’ll be there at five,” I said, smiling at him as I stopped to brush a burr out of a collie’s tail whose owners were on vacation. “Good girl. You’re such a good girl, Sophie.”

  “You’re really good with all of them,” Sammy said. “I mean, I’ve never seen anybody who handles dogs like you do.”

  “Thanks, Sammy. That’s very nice of you to say,” I said, glancing around the set of condos. “Okay, it’s time for their morning meal. Don’t forget to check the water system to make sure it’s refilling all their bowls. We had a problem with it a couple of weeks ago.”

  I led him to the far wall of the room.

  “Remember, the green button that says Out opens all the condos so the dogs can go outside. After they’ve eaten, let them out per the schedule for a couple of hours. There’s no rain in the forecast today so they should be fine. When it’s raining, we use the button that says Inside to open all the doors on this side of the condos, and we take all the dogs to the playroom down the hall.”

  “Must be nice,” Sammy said. “They live better than I do.”

  “Oh, always check all the outside gates to make sure none of them have been left open. And keep an eye on how the German shepherd and Doberman are getting along today. They had a bit of a dust-up yesterday over a toy they both wanted.”

  Sammy’s fingers flew over the touchpad as he tried to keep up.

  “I think I got it,” he said.

  “Okay,” I said, heading toward the door that led back in the reception area with Chloe at my heels. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

  Inside the waiting area, I saw Josie exit one of the exam rooms and gave her a quick update on my time with Sammy. When I mentioned smitten, she laughed and shook her head.

  “Just be gentle with him,” I said.

  “He’s a good kid. And cute.” Josie said, then her attention shifted to the front door.

  Marge Crawford stepped inside, removed her sunglasses, and frowned. Apparently, visiting an establishment for dogs was way down her list of favorite things to do. She spotted us and approached.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Hi, Marge,” I said.

  “Please address me as Mrs. Crawford,” she said, glancing around the room and sniffing as if she were trying to determine the source and direction of the smell. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

  “Sure,” I said, gesturing for her to follow us into my office.

  “What is that smell?” she said as she sat down and draped one leg over the other.

  I looked at Josie, who shrugged back at me.

  “Dog, I guess,” I said, sitting down behind my desk. “How can we help you, Mrs. Crawford?”

  “This is a bit delicate,” she said.

  “I see,” I said.

  Chloe hopped up onto my lap and stared across the desk at her. I scratched her ears and waited.

  “I’ve been looking for something on the island and haven’t had any luck. I’m at my wit’s end. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Why would you come here?” Josie said.

  “The object I’m looking for is quite small, and I’m wondering… Well, since that dog-”

  “Chloe,” I said.

  “Yes, whatever. Chloe,” she said, waving me off. “Since the dog and my ex-husband were apparently inseparable before he drowned, and I’ve run out of places to look, I’m wondering if it’s possible that she may have eaten it.”

  I glanced at Josie, who was leaning forward listening closely.

  “What exactly is it that you think Chloe might have eaten?” I said.

  “A key?”

  “What kind of key?”

  “It’s just a key. Probably a small one.”

  “Why do you think Chloe could have eaten it?”

  “I just told you. I’ve looked everywhere, and I’m running out of places to look,” she snapped. “I’m sorry. I’m just so frustrated.”

  “I understand,” I said, my patience with her rapidly disappearing.

  “Aren’t puppies always eating things they shouldn’t?”

  “Well, sure,” I said. “But dogs usually start by chewing things that feel good on their teeth. You know, leather shoes, table legs-”

  “The legs of women who don’t like dogs,” Josie interjected, forcing a smile at Mrs. Crawford.

  Mrs. Crawford glared at Josie but chose to ignore the insult.

  “Isn’t it possible that she ate a key?”

  “She’s a dog, not a billy goat,” I said.

  “How can you be sure without checking her…well, you know. Didn’t you check her stools?”

  I glanced at Josie before responding. She was getting as annoyed as I was.

  “We usually aren’t that up close and personal with our guests,” I said, smiling at her. “I mean, a girl’s got to have her privacy, right?”

  If Marge thought my joke was funny, she did a good job of not showing it.

  “Surely you must have someone on staff responsible for that sort of thing.”

  “No, I’m afraid we don’t,” Josie said. “If you’d like to check for yourself, I can take you out to the poo-pile. But I should warn you to prepare yourself, it’s quite an extensive collection.”

  “And you might want to change your shoes first,” I said. “I don’t recommend going open-toed.”

  She glared at both of us and started tapping her foot on the floor. For several seconds, it was the only sound as our staredown played out.

  “Look, Mrs. Crawford, when we found Chloe, the first thing Josie did was take x-rays to make sure she was okay. And if anything like a key showed up, Josie would have removed it.”

  “Well, okay,” she said, standing up. “I guess it was a long shot. But if anything turns up, be sure to let me know. I need to find that key.”

  “What’s the key for?” I said, unable to resist.

  “Do you think that’s any of your business?” she said, lifting her sunglasses to stare at me.

  “No, but if we only knew what kind of key it was, it might help us know what to look for,” I said.

  “Would it now?” she said, dismissing me with a wave of her hand. She pushed her sunglasses back in place and strode off out of the Inn.

  “Nice try,” Josie said, laughing. “If we only knew what kind of key it was?”

  “So it wasn’t my best effort,” I said, shrugging. “But that was definitely a sign of desperation on her part, wouldn’t you say?

  “Yes, it was. I guess the rumors of a new will floating around might be accurate.”

  “But if she did it, and I’m beginning to think she did, why would she kill him off before she got her hands on it?” I said.

  Josie got up and poured two cups of coffee. She handed one to me, then sat back down. I repositioned the sleeping Chloe and carefully took a sip.

  “If Chef Claire is right that the divorce wasn’t final, there’s a good chance she’d end up being able to keep everything for herself,” Josie said. “Unless there is a new will floating around.”

  “Again, but why would she kill him off before she got her hands on the new will? If Crawford were the only one who knew about it, she’d need him around to find out where it was, right?”

  Josie nodded and sipped her coffee. We sat in silence thinking it through.

  “Maybe she just lost control in a fit of anger. Maybe she caught Crawford in the act with Roxanne, and it brought back a bunch of bad memories. Unrequited love and all that sort of thing.”

  “Nah, I’m not buying it,” I said. “You saw Marge at dinner the other night. She obviously can’t stand Roxanne, but I didn’t pick up on any jealousy.”

  “No, me neither,” Josie said. “Total hatred, maybe. But not jealousy.”

  “And if she hates Roxanne that m
uch, why not just kill her instead of Crawford?”

  “She obviously considers Roxanne pond scum, but Marge doesn’t seem like someone who would kill somebody just because she didn’t like them.”

  “No, Marge seems to be the type who would figure out a way to keep someone like Roxanne around just to make her life miserable,” I said. “You know, show Roxanne who was the boss.”

  Josie nodded and set her empty cup on my desk. Chloe heard the noise and woke long enough to glance up, then tucked her head under my arm and went back to sleep.

  “I think we’re missing something,” I said.

  “I don’t have any doubts about it,” Josie said.

  I laughed and leaned back in my chair.

  “Crawford’s accident happened on the River, right?”

  “Yeah. Either that or it happened somewhere else, and he was taken out in a boat and tossed overboard.”

  “But either way, Crawford was a big guy. And he would have been a load to get in and out of a boat. Marge doesn’t look strong enough to have taken him out and gotten him into the water all by herself.”

  “Maybe she took him by surprise,” Josie said.

  “Perhaps. But Marge doesn’t seem like the type to sneak up on someone. She’s an in-your-face kind of girl.”

  “She certainly is. So that takes us back to what we were talking about the other day. She had help.”

  “Yup,” I said.

  “You know what you need to do, right?” Josie said.

  I slowly nodded my head and stared out the window.

  “Call Jerry the Lawyer.”

  “Exactly.”

  “The things I do around here,” I said.

  “If you like, we can just forget the whole thing and get on with our lives,” Josie said, raising an eyebrow.

  “You know I can’t do that,” I said.

  “Okay then. You do get all the fun jobs, don’t you?” Josie said, laughing.

  “How do you think I should play it?”

  “I’d go seductive,” Josie said, grabbing a handful of candy from the jar on my desk. “You know, show some leg. Put the twins on display.”

  “He’s going to get the wrong idea,” I said.

  “If you’re going to be working him for information, you want him wanting and weak.”

  “Wanting and weak?”

  “It’s the clinical term for horny,” she said, munching on a piece of chocolate.

  I snorted, then picked up Chloe and put her on the floor. I stood and stretched.

  “I guess I’ve done worse things,” I said.

  “And you’ll be on your own. Think you can handle it?”

  “Sure. A piece of cake.”

  “Cake? What a great idea. I need to run out at lunchtime. I’ll swing by Pattersons and pick one up.”

  “I wish you’d gain a couple of pounds at some point.”

  Chapter 17

  I walked inside Tondeuse and paused to let my eyes adjust to the light. Chef Michael was reviewing that evening’s reservations with the hostess but looked up when he saw me and smiled.

  “Hi, Suzy,” he said. “Nice to see you. And your date is already here.”

  “Hi, Chef,” I said, glancing around the main dining room for signs of Jerry the Lawyer.

  “I’ve got you at a nice romantic table in the back room,” he said.

  “Romantic? That wasn’t necessary, Chef.”

  “Really? Your mom called earlier and said this was a special night.”

  “She did, huh?” I said, fuming. “She has a tendency to overstate things.”

  “Well, regardless, I’m sure you’ll enjoy what we’ve got set up for you. And there won’t be a piece of fish within a hundred feet,” he said, laughing.

  “That’s a good start, Chef. Thanks.”

  I made my way to the table and, as promised, Jerry was already there, staring out the window. He stood when he saw me, checked my legs out, and held my chair as I sat down. I placed the napkin across my lap and looked across the table at him. He was already pouring champagne into my glass. He placed the bottle back in the ice bucket and smiled.

  “Your mom bought it for us,” he said.

  “Of course,” I said, taking a sip. It was very good. Mom was pulling out all the stops tonight.

  “I have to admit that I was surprised when you called. Your mom said you might, but I thought she was just trying to be nice.”

  “My mother being nice? Doubtful.”

  “I like her,” Jerry said. “She’s a real straight shooter. They’re pretty rare these days.” He took another sip of champagne. Since I didn’t respond, he felt the need to agree with himself and nodded. “Yeah, they broke the mold when they made her.”

  “I think she was the one who shattered it.”

  Jerry laughed and leaned forward. He placed both his hands over mine. I bit my lip and freed one of my hands to grab my glass. I was at a loss as to how to get the other one loose.

  “So, let’s talk about us,” he said, gazing into my eyes.

  “Sure,” I said. “That shouldn’t take too long.”

  Jerry let go of my hand and sat back in his chair. He gave me an odd smile.

  “You look great tonight,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “So why did you agree to a second date?”

  “Actually, this one is more like date one-and-a-half. Our first one ran out of steam pretty early.”

  “Yeah, it did,” he said. “I blame my buddy Frederick. He has a tendency to get things off track if you know what I mean.”

  “Good idea,” I said, forcing a smile. “Let’s blame Frederick. So, how much longer are you going to be in town?”

  He thought about the question for a long time before answering. Why I have no idea. It seemed like an easy one.

  “Probably until early next week. That is, assuming I can get everything here wrapped up.”

  “You mean whatever you’re doing for Marge Crawford?”

  “Yeah,” he said, glancing away, then refocusing on my cleavage.

  “What exactly are you doing for old Marge?”

  “Oh, basic stuff,” he said, casually fiddling with his glass. “Just trying to make sure she gets everything she deserves.”

  “Like all of her dead ex-husband’s money?”

  “Wow,” Jerry said. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

  I decided to slow down and back off a bit. There was no sense in putting him completely on the defensive this early in the evening. Since I was starving, that could wait until dessert.

  “It was just that it was obvious the other night at dinner that things are pretty strained around that island at the moment. And nobody seemed to be grieving. So I assumed that everyone was there for another reason. Since he was worth hundreds of millions, I came to the conclusion that the money was their reason for being there.”

  “Who ever really knows the motives of others? And people grieve in different ways,” he said with a small shrug.

  “Yes, they do,” I said, taking a small sip of champagne. “But it doesn’t usually manifest itself in open hostility and hatred.”

  Jerry laughed. Despite the fact that I found him to be a cloying narcissist, I had to concede that he had a great laugh. I smiled and felt a tinge of warmth for him. I cursed myself and vowed to go slow with the bubbly.

  “I have to agree with you. The wicked ex-wife, the ex-hooker girlfriend, and the jack of all trades gardener who looks like he just stepped off the cover of a bad romance novel. It’s quite a collection.”

  “Not to mention the straight-laced corporate zombie,” I said, nodding.

  Jerry’s eyes narrowed, and he frowned.

  “I’ve never spent much time with her. But she’s a real piece of work, too,” he said.

  “Rosaline, right?”

  “That’s her.”

  He had an interesting reaction to my mention of Rosaline. I studied Jerry’s face, and it held the same expression he’d had
during our first date when he realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere with me. If he’d put the moves on Rosaline and struck out, when had that happened? It could have been at dinner when I’d been in the kitchen stuffing my face with chili dogs. I made a mental note to ask Josie if she’d seen anything that night and filed it away.

  Our waitress arrived with a plate of stuffed mushrooms and salads.

  “I don’t think we ordered these, Michelle,” I said, glancing up at her.

  “Your mom called in your order this afternoon,” she said, smiling.

  “Of course she did,” I said, glancing at Jerry.

  “In case you’re wondering, you’re both having the New York, medium-rare, with a side of penne in red sauce. And your chocolate soufflés will be going in the oven as soon as I bring your entrees.”

  “Thanks, Michelle.”

  She waved casually and walked off. I took a sip of champagne and sat quietly fuming.

  “Dinner sounds great,” Jerry said.

  “Yeah, it’s my favorite meal.”

  “Then why the long face, Seabiscuit?”

  I laughed at his joke and felt myself relaxing.

  “It’s just my mother,” I said. “Do you ever feel like your mother is constantly hovering over you like a drone?”

  “Actually, no,” he whispered.

  I’d somehow managed to touch another soft spot, but I felt bad about this one. I decided to get back to why I was there in the first place.

  “You referred to Mrs. Crawford as the wicked ex-wife. That’s an interesting choice of words.”

  “You were there at dinner. What word would you use to describe her?”

  “Wicked works. But Mrs. Crawford is one of your clients.”

  “Listen, if one of my clients isn’t wicked, that’s when I get nervous. And if I limited my practice to only those who walk a straight line, I’d be in the poor house. Of course, I’m not necessarily suggesting your mother is wicked by any means.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “If the ruby slipper fits, right?”

  He laughed softly and stared off into the distance. “Marge Crawford is one of the worst I’ve ever come in contact with, but…”

  “But what?”

  “She pays well, and she pays on time.”

  “I guess that’s important in your line of work,” I said, nibbling a mushroom.