by Cat Clayton
“The old guy carries the damn thing everywhere. No big deal,” Brandon said, stepping over the yellow police tape and moved toward me, firm, yet friendly. “And darlin’, that spiky red head of yours is gonna get you in some serious trouble one of these days. C’mon we should get you out of here before Nick gets back with the fingerprinting kit.”
Cuff wrestled inside the bag, attempting to escape. I clamped the opening closed with my arm. Now, was not the time for Cuff to be on the loose.
“It’s a free country,” I said, trying to ignore Cuff’s wiggling around. The important matter now was Virgil. He’s out there, somewhere, all alone.
Virgil’s missing? Would someone tell me what’s happened to Virgil, please!
With a wheezy snort, Cuff popped out of my bag, eyes bugging, panting like he’d swallowed a hot pepper.
“What the hell’s that?” Jackson said from across the room. “Is it supposed to be a dog?”
Hey, watch it, wise guy.
I gave my pup a peculiar glance. It was almost as if... no. It couldn’t be.
Brandon laid a giant hand on my shoulder, looming over me in a big brother sort of way. “Steely, let’s go.” As Brandon began to lead me to the door, Jackson blocked the exit.
“Sorry, Tripp, but I’m a stickler for rules and the law, and it’ll be our asses if we get caught letting her go. I’m calling it in.”
“Dude, that’s unnecessary.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today or something?” I didn’t even know the guy, and he already had it out for me, or so it seemed.
Cuff snarled.
Officer Jackson tilted his head to the side, as he pushed the call button on the radio attached to his shoulder.
“Go ahead.” Nick’s voice rang out over the officers’ radios.
He pushed the call button again. “Jackson here. You’d better head on back. I think you’ll be very interested in what we’ve found.”
“Ten four, en route,” I heard Nick say.
My entire body broke out in a full sweat. I had to do something and quick. I turned to Brandon. Maybe if I begged he’d force this jerk to let me go.
“C’mon guys, this is crazy. Pleeeeaase let me go!”
You’re using a squeaky voice. I don’t like the squeaky voice!
I pushed Cuff’s head back down inside my bag and tried to make a break for it.
Officer Jackson blocked me. “Not a chance. I’ve heard about you and the Pipsqueak here meddling around in police business around the station,” Jackson said, his stare disconcerting. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to smack me or eat me for a midnight snack. He unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it in his mouth.
I glanced at Brandon. “Brandon, please.”
He shook his head. “My hands are tied, Steely. Sorry.”
“But this is my shop. Samson was my friend. And all those other times, I had good reasons. Just like tonight.” Why couldn’t Brandon see that? Ugh, I couldn’t let this happen. “Can’t you come up with something. Get creative. Lie for Pete’s sake!”
Jackson shook his head. “I don’t lie.”
I gave him an icy glare, cold enough to freeze hell over. Twice.
“To be honest, I have to agree with Officer Jackson. I’ve let you slide one too many times. I can’t keep lying to Nick. He’s my supervisor. Not to mention my best friend.” Brandon blinked apologetic, brown eyes, running his fingers through his short, wavy hair.
“Thanks for nothing,” I said to Brandon and glanced toward the windows, listening to the sirens approaching and dreading Nick’s reaction.
Chapter 3
The sound of squealing tires announced Nick’s arrival.
Cuff trembled inside the bag as he howled along with the sirens. Red and blue lights flashed through the windows. A crazy strobe light show displayed on the walls all around us. My stomach sank to my toes.
“I’m begging,” I said.
“No can do. Not this time,” Brandon said.
A car door slammed outside and heavy footsteps headed up the stairs. Nick’s voice ricocheted off the walls.
“Tripp? Jackson? Where are y’all?”
“Up here,” Jackson said.
I dug inside my bag, grabbing my inhaler. I took a puff and hoped for the best.
Good luck, Chiquita. You’re gonna need it.
Nick entered, his handcuffs jingling at his hip. Tall and whipcord lean, he carried himself with authority and confidence. Our eyes met. Tipping his straw Stetson back on his forehead, he sighed and mumbled under his breath.
“I’ll take it from here, guys.” He nodded in dismissal to Brandon and Jackson.
“We’ll be outside,” Brandon said, heading for the stairwell. He sprinted down the steps.
Jackson nodded and left us alone.
Smug jerk.
I prayed Nick wouldn’t make a big deal out of this. I could understand how it looked, but if he’d only listen to reason, I could explain.
“That new officer is a real piece of work. Says he knows you from the Marines. Well, I don’t like him,” I said.
“Well, I don’t like that you’re interfering with my crime scene. And yes, we served together in Afghanistan. I got out. He did another tour. He needed a job, so I told him we were hiring. I guess Becker liked him.” Nick furrowed his eyebrows, fists on his hips. Annoyance and exhaustion plagued his usually handsome face. “Now, what’re you doing here?”
“Seeing as this is my shop, I needed to come check on things.” I shrugged. “I received a text from Daniel saying he thought he had left the door unlocked. See? And your friend’s a real tool,” I added as I showed him the text I’d received earlier.
“We’re not friends, but he was a damn good soldier. I’m sure he’ll make a great officer,” Nick said, glancing at my phone screen.
“Well, he’s nosy enough,” I said.
Nick raised an eyebrow. “No, he’s doing his job.”
Cuff yipped from inside my bag.
My head pounded. Killer headache plus hearing voices called for an ER visit, for sure. I really hoped this interrogation didn’t take too long.
“Jesus, you brought the mutt?” Nick asked.
Hey, wise guy, watch who you’re calling a mutt! I’m purebred Chihuahua!
I peeked inside my bag and met Cuff’s bulging eyes. I studied him. He squirmed around, whining.
Could you let me out of here, I gotta pee.
No freaking way! “Did you say something?” I asked Cuff, hoping this was all some crazy effect of hitting my head.
That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! I’m—
“No. No. No! This is not happening,” I said.
Yes, yes, yes, Chiquita, but it is.
I clamped the bag shut. I covered my ears, shut my eyes, and shook my head back and forth. Whatever’s happening, make it stop.
“Steely?” Nick said, his voice closer.
I opened my eyes to find him standing directly in front of me. I offered him a weary smile. Any second now, I was fixin’ to pass out. Leaning against the wall beside me, I steadied myself.
Nick stared at me. Confusion spread across his face. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“I don’t know. I keep hearing this...” I said, pausing, and then continued, “I fell and bumped my head earlier.” I caressed the bump over my eye.
He inspected my forehead. At six foot three inches, he towered above me. “That must’ve been quite a fall. How’d it happen?”
“I was running to listen... I mean, Cuff tripped me after you left the house. It’s not a big deal. Only a bump.” And I have a sneaking suspicion I have a concussion. Or I have officially flipped my lid.
Nick removed his hat and laid it on a folding card table a few feet away from where we stood. He ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair. Stormy blue eyes stared down. Disappointment flooded his face, causing my stomach to tighten.
“Look, I realize this is you
r shop, but what have I told you about interfering with official police business?”
I collapsed into him, offering my best damsel bit. “I’m sorry. I needed to see for myself.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I heard it was Samson, and I began to worry about Virgil. He’s probably frightened and alone. You guys need to talk to Mr. Peters; I saw him walking across the street with his shotgun.” I left out the part about the two men arguing recently.
If somebody doesn’t tell me where my pup-pal is, I’m gonna take a whiz in this bag.
“Who’s Virgil? And how do you know who the victim was?” Nick leaned back, his eyes probing mine. “Better yet, how did you find out about this?”
Crap. Nick was already plenty peeved at me. If he discovered I’d been listening in on his police scanner, I was toast. Super charred toast. At that moment, Cuff poked his head out of my bag and gave Nick a ferocious snarl.
I may be tiny, but I am mighty!
Nick yanked his hands out of harm’s way. “Ah! Would you put that damn dog down!”
“Sorry,” I said, opening my bag. I lifted Cuff out and set him on the wood plank floor.
Growling, my macho tiny pup strutted past Nick and lifted his leg on the corner of the coffee table. Aaahh. That’s how I spell relief.
I eyeballed Cuff, my jaw slack at the mere shock of it. Not because he urinated indoors, but I’m sure I heard my dog’s thoughts. Again. As I had been since... the bump on my head. So. Not. Possible.
Yes, Chiquita, it is true.
“Your dog just took a piss in here.” Nick scoffed beside me.
I stood speechless.
It’s called marking my territory, wise guy. Cuff trotted over and sat down on his tiny haunches in front of me. You finally ready to listen? His muzzle didn’t move, but his eyes twinkled. He wagged his tail, stirring up a tiny cloud of dust.
Why is this happening?
I don’t know, but isn’t it wonderful?
“Not really.” I must have a brain injury. I rubbed the knot on my forehead. “But how?”
“How, what?” Nick asked.
Staring down at Cuff, I ignored Nick. “I don’t understand.” I pinched my arm with enough force to let me know I was definitely awake.
You’re not dreaming.
Nick glanced around the empty room. “You’re freaking me out. Who the hell are you talking to?”
Cuff barked up at me. Snap out of it, Chiquita.
I stared at my pup in disbelief. “Can you hear that?” I asked Nick, my voice a harsh whisper.
“Hear what?” Nick’s face was positively comical, had I been in the mood to laugh.
No, he can’t. Only you.
“There it goes again.” I covered my ears, shaking my head back and forth.
Squeaky voice, Chiquita.
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should go get that head injury looked at.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Because you’re hearing things.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.” Not really. But if I admitted to hearing my dog talking, I’m sure Nick would insist on an ER trip. I turned to him, batting my big, brown eyes. “Maybe I should go home and get some rest.”
Good answer. Cuff barked.
“That would be wise, but you still haven’t answered me. Who told you about the shop being broken into and the murder victim?” he asked.
I’d have to deal with my delusional state later. I needed to get Nick off my case.
“I heard you talking on the phone before you left the house. The chief mentioned the shop, so naturally, I came to check it out. Since I’ve taken over for Gramma Gertie, I have a lot invested in this place.” I refused to let him in on my dirty little secret about his scanner.
“So, you weren’t meddling?” Nick clenched his square jaw and the lower half shifted to the right. If I’d learned anything about him in the past six months together, I recognized that sideways jaw shift. Nick knew I was lying. He may not know what I was lying about, but he knew I was being dishonest.
I shook my head. “Girl Scout’s honor.”
There it was again, the look. “I can only imagine what the chief’s gonna say about this.”
“Becker really doesn’t have to find out about it. I mean, it’s not like you will arrest me. Right?” I flashed him a teasing smile.
“Steely, this isn’t a time for jokes,” he said, his nostrils flaring. He looked me dead in the eyes. “Jackson will probably go over my head and report this to Chief Becker. It’s been a few years since we’ve worked together, so I’m not sure how he’ll handle it.”
“Fine. But, will you at least tell me if there was a dog found with the victim? A big, black and white fluffy dog?” There was nothing I could do for poor Samson, but I could see to making sure his dog was safe. It’d be the best way to honor him.
“No dog,” Nick said.
Virgil, where’s Virgil? Cuff darted around the room, sniffing like a bloodhound.
I cocked my head like a curious puppy, staring at my telepathic Chihuahua. “This is so weird.”
“What’s weird?”
I glanced at Nick. “Um, well, that Samson’s dog wasn’t with him.” I walked over to the window overlooking the street. The police lights were mesmerizing.
“I wonder if—”
“Steely Lamarr, wondering gets you into trouble.”
I spun around. “That’s not true.” But I knew it was.
“We canvassed the scene. There was no dog. But we’ve got a lot of work to do and a murderer to catch.” He raised an eyebrow; it perched over his right eye like a rainbow. “So, will you please promise to go home and leave the detective work to us?”
“Yes, but first, is anything downstairs damaged?” I asked.
Unable to hide his irritation, Nick grumbled. He closed his eyes and let out a deep exhale before answering me.
“From what we can tell, nothing appears to is missing or vandalized. We secured both front and back doors, and someone will be by to dust for prints first thing in the morning. There was no forced entry. We found the back door wide open. Y’all need to be more careful when locking up. But to be on the safe side, get the locks changed.” He reached for his Stetson and lifted it back onto his head. “Now, please go home, and you and the mutt stay out of trouble.”
“They said you would dust for prints,” I said.
Nick’s eyebrows furrowed. “Steely, please. I don’t need you telling me how to do my job,” he said. He spun around on his boot heels and headed out of Gertie’s apartment and down the stairs. “Let’s go, Steely. My guys have more work to do up here.”
Cuff growled, spurring me into motion. “Fine. C’mon, boy.” I grabbed the skillet off the coffee table and shoved it into my bag.
Cuff mumbled in my head as we descended the staircase. In the morning, I’m watering the wise guy’s boots.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
THE NEXT MORNING, I dragged my butt out of bed and avoided waking up the snoozing cop beside me. I wondered what time he’d gotten in last night. Nick had left a note on the kitchen counter informing me the shop could open for business as usual this morning, but Gertie’s old apartment upstairs was still a crime scene and to stay out.
I applied enough concealer to cover the ugly bruise on my forehead, pulled myself together, and headed into town. The entire car ride Cuff tried convincing me; It is what it is and to deal with it.
I kept both hands on the wheel, staring out the windshield, hoping if I ignored it, his incessant babbling would stop.
Hello, Chiquita! I know you hear me! I will not stop talking.
As I pulled into the lot behind the shop, Daniel burst out of the back door, waving his arms like he was flagging down a fire truck. His shoulder length, caramel-kissed sable waves whipped around his face as he galloped toward my car. His mint-green t-shirt bore a peace symbol, his skinny jeans rolled at the ankle, and he sported more eye makeup than any man had a right to.
After high school,
Daniel had attended cosmetology school in Houston. He worked at some hoity-toity salon in the city, but had recently moved home. The local beauty shop in Buckleville refused to hire him because he was gay. Small-town mentality. So now, he worked for me at Scrubadub grooming dogs, which was so totally their loss and my gain. We’d made some fabulous changes to the shop since he’d come on board. The shop had gotten a makeover, we’d added new spa packages to the treatment menu, began using natural products, selling organic treats, and carrying a variety of leashes, collars, and dog accessories.
Daniel ripped open my car door and Cuff leaped into his arms. A wave of heat hit me, the sun blinding. Stepping onto the steaming pavement from last night’s rain, I saw Sauren a few shops down as she unlocked the back door to her yoga studio, No Place Like OM. Her black lab/pit mix, Lotus, barked in our direction, her tail wagging wildly.
Sauren called out, “Namaste, Steely and Daniel!”
We waved. She was a sweet soul, and it reminded me I needed to sign up for the next beginner’s class. I was about as flexible as a Popsicle stick.
“So... can you believe it?” Daniel asked, his voice all breathy and excited.
I love this dude! Cuff nuzzled Daniel with his muzzle. They shared a special bond, even though my dog preferred women. Daniel was different. He was soft and gentle, and more feminine than most females I knew.
“Believe what?” I asked, playing dumb. I knew what had him in a tizzy.
“O.M.G.! That they found a dead body in here last night!” Daniel said, tossing his mane. “Did you get any juicy details from Nick? I am dying to find out!”
He didn’t know. Oh God. It would crush him. He and Samson had grown so close.
“Daniel, let’s talk inside.” I motioned toward the door. I didn’t want to tell him the bad news outside. A few employees from the Mercantile next door had gathered out back for a smoke break. I didn’t want them to witness a Daniel meltdown or for him to end up on YouTube by the end of the day.
Daniel went right on gabbing in the parking lot, waving his arms, speaking in his usual boisterous voice.
“Oh, but wait, hot Nick left a note instructing us to get the locks changed. I really don’t see the need, but to be safe, I’ve already called Mr. Peters from the hardware store. He’ll be by later when he brings Maisy in for her groom to change the lock. And it was so weird, when I got in this morning, the floor hadn’t been swept and the bathroom trash was still full! I will have a chat with Samson this evening before I leave. I need a clean space to be creative. I’ve told him so many times clutter makes me ca-ray-ze. With a capital C!”
