Asking Fur Trouble

by Ally Roberts

  His eyes shot fire at me. “Why are you talking to my ex-sister-in-law? To Lucy?”

  I swallowed.

  Oh.

  That’s what he was talking about.

  I decided feigning innocence was the best approach. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  His expression darkened. “You hunted down my former sister-in-law.”

  “I didn’t hunt her down.” Jeez, he made me sound like I was some professional bounty hunter. “I looked her up.”

  He set his hands on his hips. Thankfully, this actually managed to make him look a little less threatening. The wind ruffling his sparse hair and his wan complexion also helped.

  “Why?” he asked. “Why did you look her up?”

  “I heard about your first wife.”

  “She hates me.” Daniel scowled. “You could get her to say all kinds of unkind and untrue things about me.”

  “I didn’t have to force her to tell me anything,” I countered. “She volunteered.”

  He blinked a couple of times but stayed silent, waiting.

  “I heard about the fire,” I said calmly. “The arson. Your impending divorce. Lucy seems convinced that you had something to do with it.”

  Anger contorted his features. “I did not kill Rachel, and I did not kill Caroline.”

  His denial didn’t surprise me. Anyone in their right mind would refute Lucy’s claims. They were too serious not to.

  But just because he was denying any involvement didn’t make me automatically assume he was indeed responsible. Because those nagging doubts I’d had earlier crept back in.

  “You have to admit it looks bad,” I said to him.

  His brow furrowed and he gave a slight nod. “I know,” he said. He rubbed his jaw and sighed. Some of his anger dissipated, and he was back to looking more like the timid Daniel I’d interacted with before. “But I didn’t do it. I swear.”

  I didn’t know whether I believed him or not. And I decided I didn’t exactly feel like challenging him right there, on the front stoop of Ginny’s house, on a mostly vacant street. What if he wasn’t as timid and calm as I thought? What if I pushed him a little, forced him to answer tough questions, and he suddenly turned violent? If he had killed two women before—and yes, it was a giant if—what would prevent him from killing a third? Especially one he didn’t have any particular feelings for. I was expendable.

  “Okay,” I said, and I watched as he breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Who do you think did do it?”

  “Who killed my first wife?” he asked. “The serial arsonist. The police already said that. They’ve tied it to a string of cases from that time period.”

  “No, I mean Caroline. Who do you think was responsible for her death?”

  “I already told you.” He pointed at the front door behind me. “Ginny.” He shook his head in disgust. “You would make a terrible detective, you know.”

  Irritation bubbled up inside me. “Good thing I’m just a dog walker, then,” I snapped.

  He grimaced. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” He ran a hand over his head. “I’m just under a lot of stress right now.”

  It was hard not to sympathize with him. He’d just experienced the death of his wife and he was now realizing that her death hadn’t been accidental. It probably brought up memories of his first wife. Of course, having me badger him and drudge up memories and hurl accusations probably wasn’t helping, either.

  My thoughts returned to Ginny and his insistence that she was the one who should be considered a suspect. I replayed my own interaction with her just moments ago, and how she’d suddenly turned violent on me.

  I had to admit, the case against Caroline’s business partner was stacking up.

  But there was still one thing that didn’t make sense.

  “Why did you tell me to go to the bar?” I asked.

  He answered with a question of his own. “Did you go?”

  I hesitated.

  “What did you see?”

  I weighed my options. I could lie and say I didn’t go. I could lie and tell him I went but didn’t see anything. Or I could tell him the truth.

  I didn’t know what I would have to gain by lying.

  “She was sitting at a table alone,” I said. “A man walked by and dropped an envelope at her table.”

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing.

  I continued. “It looked like she wrote something down and then sealed the envelope. He came back by and picked it up.”

  “So not a wasted trip,” he said.

  Except I didn’t know what I’d witnessed.

  “What was she doing?” I asked.

  Daniel smiled grimly. “She’s in debt. Massively.”

  “So that was her debt collector?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, that was her bookie.”

  I wasn’t following.

  “She has a huge gambling problem,” he said. “Tens of thousands of dollars in debt.”

  “She gambles? On what?”

  “Sports, mostly,” he said. “Right now it’s basketball. Horseracing is a big one. College football. You name it, she gambles on it, if it’s in the world of sports.”

  “What does that have to do with Caroline?”

  He looked impatiently at me. “Everything. Don’t you see?”

  I shook my head.

  I didn’t.

  “When Caroline decided to close the business, Ginny realized all of her access to money would disappear. She was already doing shoddy work in an attempt to speed through orders and get money faster.”

  I remembered him telling me this earlier, that Caroline would often have to go back and redo the work Ginny had done because it had been such poor quality.

  “Was she using the money to pay off her debt?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Who knows? I doubt it, though.”

  “Why?”

  “Because most gambling addicts don’t think to stop gambling. They think the next bet they make is gonna hit the jackpot. It’s what keeps them playing. My guess is Ginny was working so fast not to pay off debt but so she could place new bets. And those new bets were sinking her even deeper into debt.”

  I nodded. It all made sense.

  But I still didn’t have a clear picture to the biggest question in my mind.

  “What did she stand to gain from killing Caroline? You think it was just revenge for Caroline closing up the business?”

  “No,” Daniel said, surprising me. “I don’t think it was premeditated. I don’t think she went over there with the intent to kill her. They were good friends. Ginny cared about Caroline.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I think they got in an argument,” Daniel said. “I think they said some hurtful things to each other.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and I imagined he was probably thinking of similar interactions with his wife. “I think Ginny reacted in the heat of the moment.”

  “So you think it was an accident? That she didn’t mean to do it?”

  “I do,” he said with a nod. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The end result is the same,” he said bitterly. “Caroline is dead. And Ginny killed her.”

  THIRTY

  It dawned on me then where we were standing.

  On Ginny’s front steps, just inches away from her front door.

  We hadn’t been yelling, but we weren’t whispering, either. If she’d wanted, she could have parked herself by the door and eavesdropped every word we’d just said.

  I hopped off the steps and bounded down the sidewalk. After giving me a puzzled look, Daniel followed after me.

  With the shade the porch overhang provided now gone, I began to sweat again.

  Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that I was coming to some realizations about Caroline Ford’s murder.

  Because it seemed pretty clear now who had been responsible for her death.

>   We got back to the sidewalk and stopped next to Daniel’s car. He tugged at the tie looped around his neck, loosening it just a little. I noticed his blue Oxford was wet under the armpits.

  “So what now?” he asked.

  I stared at him. “You’re asking me?”

  He nodded.

  I bit my lip. I was certainly not an expert on criminal investigations. Heck, Daniel had just said himself that I was a terrible detective.

  “I think you should go to the police,” I told him.

  He stiffened.

  I frowned. “What?”

  He looked down, toeing the pavement with a scuffed brown loafer. “I don’t…” His voice trailed off.

  “The police need to know,” I said.

  His eyes met mine and I saw a new emotion lurking there.

  Fear.

  “I don’t want to draw attention to myself,” he mumbled. “I’ve been down that road before.”

  Recognition dawned. “With your first wife?”

  He nodded. “It was terrible. They put me, my entire life, under a microscope. Everything I did was suspect. Every fight we had, every unkind word—all of it was inspected and analyzed. Having Lucy foaming at the mouth to get me arrested didn’t help.”

  “But you’re not going to the Sweetwater police as a suspect,” I said. “You’re going to them with information.”

  “I wasn’t a suspect in my first wife’s death, either,” he pointed out. “Not at first. I was anxious to help, eager to find out who had been responsible. It went downhill after that. And by then, they had all my statements, all the supposed ‘evidence’ they’d collected from my apartment. I’d never had a lawyer present because I didn’t think I’d ever be considered a suspect.”

  I winced. He had really been put in an awful situation.

  “And all because my sister-in-law had a beef with me,” he grumbled. It was clear it still rankled him. “So, yeah, I’d like to steer clear of cops.”

  I didn’t blame him.

  He gave me a hopeful look. “That’s why I told you about Ginny. I was hoping you could bring the information to them.”

  “Me?”

  Daniel nodded.

  “I don’t know that they’ll believe anything I have to say,” I said. “They’re one piece of evidence away from locking me up for her death.”

  “You?” He frowned. “I don’t understand why they think you’re involved.”

  “Because I found Caroline,” I said. “Because I’m new in town. And because they aren’t good detectives.”

  “Now that I can agree with,” he said. “I don’t put much faith in police. Not after what I went through in Savannah with Rachel.” He heaved out a sigh. “So what do we do?”

  I didn’t have an answer for him.

  We both knew what we knew: Ginny was the likely culprit.

  But holding her responsible for Caroline’s death was another matter altogether.

  I knew we couldn’t count on the chief or Detective Simcoe to help us bring her to justice.

  It was going to be up to one of us.

  I glanced at Daniel.

  He was sweating profusely, tugging on his tie even more. His hair stuck like wet spaghetti to his scalp. He was staring at me with a hopeful expression.

  I bit back a sigh of my own.

  I had a feeling Daniel Ford wasn’t going to be much help at all in bringing Ginny Potter down.

  No.

  It was all going to depend on me.

  THIRTY ONE

  I didn’t go to the police after talking to Daniel.

  I’d thought about it—for all of thirty seconds.

  And then I’d gone home.

  As much as I tried to convince myself it was my only option, that I wasn’t equipped to solve this on my own, I still couldn’t pull the trigger.

  Too much was at stake.

  Like my freedom.

  I didn’t have much time to second-guess my decision. Duke needed his afternoon walk, John’s dogs needed to be let out, and then my mother had stopped over and Shannon had called for a marathon catch-up session.

  By the time everything was said and done, it was almost eight o’clock and I hadn’t even eaten dinner yet. I’d downed a bowl of cereal, showered, and landed in bed, intent on spending some time thinking things through.

  I’d lasted all of ten minutes before exhaustion hit me.

  So now, as I was heading to Asher’s to pick up Duke on Tuesday morning for his walk, I was back to thinking about Ginny and Daniel and whether or not I should think about telling the police what I knew.

  My feelings on the matter hadn’t changed.

  Because I knew they wouldn’t believe me. I was a lot like Daniel in that regard. I was in the exact same shoes he’d been in all those years ago after his first wife’s death.

  I also realized something else on my walk. I’d never gotten back in touch with Amber, even though I told her I’d contact her on Monday afternoon. Not that it mattered anymore, I thought. My whole goal in meeting up with her was to have her look at pictures of the statue and give me a positive ID. I guess I no longer needed that.

  Asher was locking his office door just as I walked up. Dressed in a dark navy suit, his hair slicked back and sunglasses hiding his eyes, his appearance was enough to make me momentarily forget about Daniel and Ginny and Caroline and the police.

  He looked at me in surprise. “Hey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  I bit my lip. “Um, I’m here to walk Duke…?”

  His expression cleared. “Oh, gosh. I completely forgot to tell you. I’m on my way to Caroline’s funeral. I figured we could just do an afternoon walk for Duke today, since I thought you might be going to.”

  “Oh.”

  His eyebrows lifted so they were visible above his sunglasses. “I’ll still pay you your full rate,” he said quickly. “A deal’s a deal.”

  “No, no,” I said. “It’s totally fine. I just…I’m not going.”

  “You’re not?”

  I shook my head. “I just found out about it yesterday and—”

  He dug his keys out of his pocket. “Would you like to go? To the funeral, I mean. I can drive you back to your place so you can drop Trixie.”

  I would need to do far more than drop Trixie off to make myself presentable for a funeral. I was currently dressed in an athletic shorts and a tank top, and I’d dealt with my hair by throwing it up in a messy bun.

  Definitely not funeral ready.

  I was barely even Asher-will-see-me ready.

  “That’s okay,” I told him. “But thank you.”

  “You sure?”

  I nodded.

  He still seemed hesitant about leaving. “But you’ll be back later this afternoon, right?”

  “To walk Duke?”

  He nodded.

  “Yep, I will.”

  “Alright.” He flashed me one of those smiles of his that could turn my brain to mush if I let it. “I’ll see you then.”

  He strode past me and I waited a minute before I turned back around. I watched as he approached his car, taking in his tall, muscular frame and how well his suit fit his body. It had to be custom-made. Even from this distance, and even from behind, Asher Ellsworth was striking.

  I forced my thoughts from him as Trixie and I headed back home. She seemed a little confused that we weren’t picking up Duke. Even though we’d only walked together a handful of times, it was clearly already becoming a part of her routine. As we walked away, she kept glancing back toward Asher’s office.

  “We’ll get Duke later,” I told her.

  She cocked her head.

  “This afternoon,” I said. “We’ll go for our own walk now. Just you and me.”

  Guilt poked at me as we ambled away from Asher’s rental property and away from the beach. Part of me felt like I should go to Caroline’s funeral. Betsy had told me about it, and had said everyone was welcome, so I knew there was no logical reason not to go. After t
he conversation Betsy and I had, I actually felt like I knew the real Caroline a lot better, and I had this sense that I should go to honor her memory, to bear witness, and to acknowledge that even though I hadn’t known her in life, I could mourn her in death.

  But then I thought about all the people who might be there. Specifically, Chief Ritter and Detective Simcoe. I shuddered. I didn’t want to put myself in the line of their accusatory glares, and I certainly didn’t want to talk to either of them. Not yet. I was still working out how best to deal with the information Daniel and I had pieced together about Ginny.

  Ginny.

  I stopped on the sidewalk and took in my surroundings. I’d been so focused on my own thoughts that I’d been walking on autopilot, letting Trixie lead the way.

  I swallowed.

  We were standing within fifty feet of Ginny Potter’s house.

  And she was outside.

  I slowed our pace to a crawl.

  She wasn’t technically outside. I mean, she wasn’t standing on the sidewalk or anything. Instead, she was in her car, which she’d pulled out of her garage and was currently parked halfway between her driveway and the sidewalk, blocking the path in front of me.

  Trixie and I were now barely moving. She’d taken the opportunity to sniff a particular aromatic dandelion as I stared at Ginny and tried to figure out just what she was doing.

  I shaded my eyes and squinted.

  If I was seeing what I thought I was seeing, it looked like Ginny Potter was crying. Her shoulder shook violently, and every few seconds she furiously wiped at her eyes.

  I stared at her, trying to figure out what to do.

  She was clearly distraught, but I had no idea why.

  And then it hit me, the likely reason.

  Caroline’s funeral.

  This time when I looked at her, I saw what she was wearing. Something black.

  She was definitely en route to the funeral.

  I pulled out my phone and checked the time. It was almost ten o’clock. The funeral was starting in less than ten minutes. I knew it wouldn’t take long to get there, but I also knew that she would need to park and get in the church, and she wasn’t leaving herself much time.