Bite the Biscuit (A Barkery & Biscuits Mystery)

by Linda O. Johnston

  Detective Bridget Morana strode in, followed by Detective Wayne Crunoll.

  Both wore dark suits with white shirts. Both had serious expressions on their faces—there was no indication that they’d come here to buy treats for Wayne’s dogs, or anything else that would give me reason for hope this was just another simple harassment call.

  “Hello, Ms. Kennersly.” Bridget … er, Detective Morana, clearly did not intend for us to be on a first-name basis that day. That also boded badly for what was to come.

  “Hello, Detectives.” I tried to keep my tone light. “I’m just closing up for the day. But I do have some leftovers here in Icing. Would either of you like a sugar cookie?”

  “No, thank you,” said the lady detective in charge. I glanced toward her male counterpart and he just watched me, not even deigning to respond.

  “I assume you’d like to talk,” I said. “Is it okay if we go next door so I can be with Biscuit?”

  “Fine,” Detective Morana said, and as if he had been given a direct order, Detective Crunoll joined me as I locked Icing’s front door, then proceeded into the Barkery. Although Biscuit stood up in her crate, I just smiled at her—somewhat grimly, I knew—and went to lock that shop’s door too.

  While I did that, Detective Crunoll, who was trying to remain near me, gathered three chairs.

  They waited for me to let Biscuit loose so she could stay close to me. I sat down as they joined me. My knees were suddenly so weak that I might as well have melted into my seat. Instead, I let myself bend over just far enough to give Biscuit’s furry head a gentle rub, wishing I could throw myself onto the floor and hug her. Instead, I just straightened up.

  I considered asking breezily what had brought them here—the TV news or something more significant—but decided to let them start the conversation however they chose to.

  I didn’t have long to wait.

  “We have some additional questions for you, Ms. Kennersly.” Bridget Morana had an expression on her face that, like others I’d seen on her, I couldn’t read. If I’d hazarded a guess, I would have said it looked smug. Why? Did she think she had some evidence that would allow her to arrest and possibly convict me? Her bushy eyebrows were raised a little. Her mouth curved up just a bit in a not-quite smile.

  I wondered if it was now time to find myself a lawyer.

  “All right,” I said slowly, not really meaning that it was at all okay with me.

  “How often have you shopped at the Knob Hill Pet Emporium?”

  That seemed an innocuous enough question. I hoped. “I used to go there every couple of weeks, but once I purchased Icing on the Cake and started turning half of the building into my Barkery, I stopped going there. The Ethmans weren’t especially welcoming to me once they believed they would have competition—even though I explained to them that what I was doing wouldn’t really compete with them.”

  “Right. Well, what kinds of things did you buy there?” That was still the lady detective. Her expression hadn’t changed, so I assumed I hadn’t said anything she hadn’t expected.

  Detective Crunoll appeared to be paying less attention. His gaze wandered around the shop.

  What was he looking for?

  “Sometimes food for Biscuit,” I said, responding to the pending question. At her name, my little golden dog looked up from where she lay by my feet and started wagging her tail. “Occasionally a toy for her. That kind of thing.”

  “And how long ago did you last buy a leash there?” Bridget’s expression had finally changed. It now appeared like a gotcha look. And now I understood where she was going with this.

  She wanted me to admit that I’d bought the kind of leash—the very leash—that had been used to strangle Myra as she was being killed.

  Which I hadn’t, of course. But if I denied buying even a similar one, I felt sure she would believe that was a lie. Maybe she even thought she’d be able to prove it—which she couldn’t. Not actually.

  I decided to try to respond, but again wondered if it was lawyer time. I’d be careful. I figured these two must be recording this conversation. If so, were they supposed to warn me? It didn’t really matter since I’d assume it anyway.

  “I’m not sure whether I ever bought a leash there,” I began. “If so, I don’t recall it. And if what you’re asking is if I bought the one used to choke Myra Ethman, the answer to that is a definite no. I use this kind.” I pointed to the black one I used to anchor Biscuit to the wall in the Barkery. “I also have a shorter one at home that I sometimes use to take her on walks, a flat, woven nylon thing. A blue one. From what you showed me, it was a beige, ropelike mesh leash that was used on Myra. I don’t have one of those. And this one and the one at home I bought from a major retail chain some time ago, the store on the road to Lake Arrowhead.”

  “Do you have the receipts?”

  I shook my head. “I doubt it. As I said, it was quite a while ago.”

  “Then what would you say if I told you that Harris Ethman has a duplicate receipt from when you bought the identical kind and color of leash that was used for ligature strangulation of his wife, rendering her unconscious?”

  TWENTY-THREE

  I SWALLOWED. HARD. LAWYER time had finally arrived. Probably. But first I looked into Wayne’s eyes, which had turned hard and accusatory. Then I returned my gaze to Bridget. Her expression hadn’t changed, except perhaps to grow even more smug.

  Why? Had Harris manufactured some kind of old receipt? If he had anything, it wasn’t real.

  But maybe these detectives didn’t care about the truth, as long as they had a potential suspect in their sights.

  “What I would say is that he’s lying,” I told them as coolly as I could muster. “And that his accusation should make you want to arrest him, since he’s trying hard to point fingers at someone else. He clearly had access to that kind of leash if it’s sold at his store. He had more motive and opportunity to kill his wife than I did, and since she was hit on the head while unconscious—right?—it had to be someone strong as well as angry. And of course he’d want to turn your attention elsewhere—like to me.”

  “We considered all of that, Ms. Kennersly. It’s why we’re not placing you under arrest just yet. There are a few other things we’re looking into first. But we wanted your answer, and your reaction. Now we have both.” She rose, and so did Wayne, at the same time, as if her words had been his cue. “We’ll see you again soon.” Within seconds, they were waiting at the door for me to let them out.

  I did so gladly. As I shut it behind them, I rested my forehead against it while slowing my breathing to something resembling normalcy.

  What was I going to do now?

  The first item on my agenda now was clear—but how would I find a lawyer? Neal knew of some, but would any be the right one? My mind searched frantically for any attorneys who’d brought their pets to the clinic. I knew of a couple, but one was a big shot with his own firm who I believed worked for the Ethmans. Definitely not him. And the other worked for the area’s largest real estate company, if I recalled correctly.

  I needed someone who dealt with criminal stuff, even though I wasn’t a criminal. At least not yet.

  I could do a search online, but I didn’t want to pick out just anyone.

  Then it dawned on me. Billi Matlock might be able to help. Not that she’d ever needed a criminal lawyer. Or at least I didn’t think so. But since she was on City Council, and because she was a Matlock, she probably had some contacts she trusted who might be able to make a good suggestion or two.

  I went through the kitchen and into the office, where I kept my purse. I pulled out my phone and called Billi.

  Maybe Cuppa-Joe’s hadn’t been the wisest choice for where to meet this time, since I didn’t want anyone eavesdropping or knowing what I was asking. But it was convenient, I was able to bring Biscuit, and I felt comfortable there.

  I had already told Billi a bit of what I needed to pick her brain about. I’d also requested that she
be discreet, both now and later.

  We sat on the central patio again today, a table away from where we’d been a week ago when we’d also briefly discussed my being a murder suspect and how I was bound to turn that around soon.

  Now, I absolutely had to.

  We’d already ordered our drinks—same as last time, both filled with caffeine. And now we waited.

  I leaned over the table toward Billi. Since her work day was over, instead of workout clothes she wore a lovely knit shirt in a floral print over deep green slacks. She had again left her dogs at her spa.

  “I had some visitors a little while ago,” I said to her.

  “I figured that from what you said. Those detectives again?”

  I nodded and briefly told her their claims about the leash. “I buy things for Biscuit a lot, and from different places, but I really don’t believe I bought a leash for her from the Ethmans’ shop. And even if I had bought one of the exact same type a few weeks ago—which I didn’t, particularly since I knew I was persona non grata there—I absolutely didn’t use it to strangle Myra. Shouldn’t they be looking for a man, anyway? I’m reasonably strong, but I don’t think I could strangle someone to unconsciousness with a leash. And killing them by striking them with a rock? Ugh.”

  “If you took the person by surprise you probably could knock them out, and anger, or determination, can give people a lot of extra strength.” Billi regarded me assessingly. “But I believe you, Carrie. And I figured from what you said when you called—”

  Kit arrived then with our drinks. It was a welcome break from our intense conversation, yet I needed to continue talking to Billi, so I thanked our server and smiled—waiting for her to leave. I think she sensed it, since she gave me a slightly hurt look instead of her usual toothy smile and moved away quickly.

  I’d have to be particularly generous with my tip when we got ready to go. But that wouldn’t be for a while.

  “Anyway,” Billi said, leaning over the table toward me, “I gather you’re looking for a lawyer.”

  I nodded, then glanced around to see if anyone appeared to be eavesdropping. Fortunately not.

  “I have contact info for a guy some members of my family have used. He does all kinds of courtroom work, including criminal.” She pulled a business card out of her large brown leather purse and handed it to me.

  I looked at it. His name was Ted Culbert, and the firm name contained his name and several others.

  I’d call him tomorrow.

  Right now, I would enjoy the company of my friend Billi.

  And hope I’d be able to do so again.

  I wish I could say that the next couple of days faded into the same routine as the past week.

  They didn’t.

  Oh, sure, they still contained most of the same activities, from walking Biscuit to baking to running the shops—and even a shift at the veterinary clinic.

  But I also worked in first a phone call, and then a visit, to that attorney. I didn’t tell Judy where I was going, only that I had an important meeting to attend. Was it wise to be secretive with my staff? I wasn’t sure. But I also didn’t want to broadcast what was going on—and how concerned I was about it.

  Ted Culbert’s office was in a part of town near the elite area—on one of the curving downtown streets off Summit Avenue toward the lake. Driving, to save time, I dropped Biscuit off at daycare. I’d do my shift at the clinic after my meeting and pick her up then.

  The law office was on the third floor of a four-story building. I reached it by elevator, and when I went inside the waiting room I found it was as posh as I’d figured it would be.

  This wasn’t going to be cheap. I’d already asked about Mr. Culbert’s hourly rate and it made me gasp.

  But hopefully expense would buy me excellence. And I only required half an hour at the moment, to get him on a retainer. Then I’d have to see how much I’d really need him.

  I prayed this would be our only meeting.

  It went as quickly as I’d hoped. The nice-looking man in a suit behind his regal-looking wooden desk asked me to call him Ted. I told him why I was there—and of course he’d heard of Myra Ethman’s murder and the fact that someone who’d argued with her the evening before was one of the suspects.

  I liked his attitude, and his confidence that he could help fix things for me if and when I needed him. His smile was a killer one—which gave me hope that he’d do all he promised and keep me from being arrested as a killer.

  Then I left.

  Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing for me to do, but before heading back to the shops after my shift at the vet clinic, I stopped at the Knob Hill Pet Emporium.

  Harris was there. He was waiting on some customers as I entered with Biscuit. Purposefully, I headed with her toward the area where collars and leashes were displayed. The detectives had shown me that picture of the ropelike, beige leash used to strangle Myra, which supposedly rendered her unconscious before a rock was smashed into her head.

  The Emporium carried a number of different leashes, and when Harris finished with his customers he approached me and said, “You looking to buy another one so you can use it on me?”

  I glared at him. “Why would you tell the police that I bought the kind used to hurt Myra here? I didn’t.”

  “Then where did you buy it?” His grin looked so smug I wanted to slap it off his narrow face. The way his eyes turned down at the edges didn’t look sad to me now. It looked evil.

  I didn’t respond directly to his absurd question but smiled slightly and said, “Just so you know, when they came to visit me I felt fairly confident that they believed me about the leash. Which then sets them onto you, since you clearly have access to what’s in your shop.”

  His smile disappeared. “Don’t you accuse me, bitch.”

  “Why not? You’ve clearly accused me. And you had a lot more motive than I did. Were you angry about Myra’s affair with Walt Hainner, or did you just want to make sure she didn’t divorce you and take away all her nice backing for this store—and your life?”

  “You—” His tone and demeanor were furious, but fortunately I didn’t have to defend myself since some customers walked in and Harris was suddenly all nice-guy again.

  “Time for me to leave,” I said pleasantly, and did.

  “What’s going on, Carrie?” Judy asked when I returned to the shops, entering the Barkery because I had Biscuit with me. “You just got a call from Harris Ethman. He said you’d better call him back when you got here. He sounded so mad … and when I tried to get him to say what he wanted, he said that you’d better not try to pin his wife’s murder on him when you’re the one who did it.” She looked extremely troubled as she stared at me and asked in a hoarse whisper, “Did you?”

  “Of course not,” I asserted. Then my shoulders fell. “I didn’t do it, but the cops appear to think I did—and they’re getting nastier now, maybe because the local news is pushing them to solve the case. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m going to try hard to figure out who did kill her so I can get the authorities heading in the right direction. And that means far away from me.”

  “How awful.” That was Dinah, who’d come in for a few hours that day. She must have heard us talking, and she entered the Barkery from the Icing door. “I’m so sorry, Carrie.” She approached me and gave me a hug. “We believe in you. You couldn’t have killed her.”

  “That’s right,” Judy said, hugging me, too. “Let’s just hope they get their suspicions pointed in a different direction soon.”

  I was never more grateful for having inherited these hard-working, sweet assistants, and I hugged them both back.

  I decided not to return Harris’s call. I couldn’t imagine anything he’d have to say to me right now that I’d want to hear. Instead, I told my assistants that if he called me again, they should be polite and say they’d give me the message, but nothing more.

  But that unanswered call gave me even more impetus to do something as fast as po
ssible.

  I’d called Neal earlier and cleared it with him to go to the resort just before his shift ended for the day. I’d told him why, but promised that instead of my going there to accuse Elise or anyone else in the extended Ethman family directly, I would be more discreet. Sort of.

  But I didn’t want to do it at my brother’s expense. He needed to be onboard with what I intended to do.

  Of course, he could ignore his rash sister.

  Since we weren’t busy, I even closed the shops a little early. To reassure my assistants that I wasn’t just going home to cry, I even told them what I was going to do.

  One way or another, I was going to find out who really killed Myra. I had to, if I hoped to get on with my life.

  I wasn’t sure whether the authorities just didn’t want to dig too deeply into where the members of the town’s leading families were the night Myra died, or if they had other suspects they were giving as hard a time as me, or whether they were simply focusing in on me because I was convenient after my argument with Myra, or if they thought the biscuit from the Barkery was a key piece of evidence. It didn’t matter why.

  What mattered was finding the truth so they would leave me alone.

  Since it was late enough, I took Biscuit home, fed her dinner, and walked her, then left her there. I drove to the resort and parked in its lot, then walked inside the main lobby.

  As I’d anticipated, Neal was at his usual location behind the desk. The place wasn’t very crowded that night, and I wondered whether that was because the resort wasn’t filled, or because people were dining here and elsewhere or otherwise enjoying their evening at Knobcone Heights.

  It didn’t matter, at least not to me. In fact, it was probably better this way, since tourists wouldn’t have the answers I needed.

  Too bad I hadn’t invited Reed to join me here for dinner again. But that wasn’t necessarily the best way to ferret out the information I hoped for.

  Instead of heading for the dining room, I walked the perimeter of the lobby, checking out the areas where the Ethmans’ offices were.