Maybe Murder

by Penny S Weibly

“Lynn is great. She’s an English teacher at Bowie, pretty, and sane—unlike the other women Ben’s dated. Remember Daphne?”

  “You mean, Princess Daphne?” Katie placed her hand dramatically against her forehead, her voice deepened into an English accent. “Benjamin, get my sweater. Benjamin, my double espresso extra foam latte is cold. Benjamin, the car door won’t open itself. Benjamin, chew my food for me!”

  “And she broke up with him!”

  “Enough, girls, or I’ll tell Mom about the time you two snuck out….”

  Katie held up her hands. “Okay. But Ben, is it true that you’re considering moving back home?”

  “No!” M’s was horrified. “You’ll never find a girl if you do that!” She shook her head. “It’s so ironic: you may be voluntarily moving back home while I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out how to move out.”

  “Are things still tough at home?”

  M’s shrugged and took a long sip of her chai. She grasped M’s arm with a warm hand and shook it playfully.

  “Tell me about your quest to find the little lost Pippa.”

  Ben filled Katie in on the Bichon Frise’s escape and the frustrating hunt for her, detailing the afternoon’s door-to-door efforts. “We figure that someone found her and just decided to keep her.”

  “Without taking her to a vet to see if she’s chipped?”

  “I know.” M’s sighed.

  Katie removed the lid from her chai, scooped foam from the cup’s sides with a plastic stir and then licked the froth from the stir. Her eyes held a faraway look that signaled a Katie plan of action. “We must go back to the last house—where you thought you heard a puppy bark. Why would the owner lie about having a dog, unless she didn’t want you to see it? I bet she has Pippa. Let’s go!”

  Katie grabbed her backpack and rushed to the door. “C’mon!”

  Kalico and M’s followed. “Katie, stop!” called Ben, but his sister was already half a block ahead.

  M’s sighed. “I don’t know what it is about Katie, but it seems like I’m always following her into one adventure or another. Remember the time that Katie led me on a disastrous quest for pirate treasure in Zilker Park?”

  “No, but I recall Katie’s ‘End Hunger’ canned food drive that never seemed to end. You two filled our garage from floor to ceiling.” He raised his voice, “Hey, Katie! Do you even know where we’re going?”

  “Hurry! You said San Gabriel, right?

  “No. Rio Grande.”

  Katie rushed back, grabbed M’s hand, and pulled her into a jog. “Let’s save Pippa! She’s probably been dog-napped and is going to be sold on the black market.”

  Fifteen minutes later, breathless and laughing, the girls stopped two doors down from the suspicious house.

  “The black market, Kit Kat?” Ben panted. “What have you been reading?”

  Katie became suddenly serious. “Animals are sold to laboratories, to fur traders, and to foreign countries for food. A pure bred pup like Pippa could be sold to a breeder for a tidy profit, I bet. Have you been checking Craig’s List?”

  The Kalico outrage over injustice of any kind was contagious. M’s cheeks flushed like Katie’s. “Remember, there may not even be a puppy in this house. I just thought I heard a little yip.”

  “That’s good enough for me.”

  Recognizing that stopping his sister from checking out the little house was futile. Kalico took charge. He determined that Katie would keep the woman of the house occupied at the front door, while he and M’s checked out what they could see through the side and back windows. Nothing like a little trespassing to get the old adrenalin working, he thought.

  Katie smoothed her hair and tied it into a ponytail. She discarded her sweatshirt to reveal a light blue Polo shirt and grabbed a notebook from her backpack. “I’ll keep her occupied for five minutes. Synchronize watches—I mean, phones!” Then with a wink at Ben and M’s, she marched up the walk of the gray and white house, and rang the doorbell. The woman, still in her bathrobe, answered the door. In seconds she was nodding and smiling and chatting away with Katie.

  Ben pointed M’s toward the right side of the house while he sprinted to the left. He was pleased to see that his assistant did not crouch down or try to make herself smaller. Instead she strolled confidently up to the side window—looking far less suspicious if a neighbor spotted her.

  Katie’s trilling laugh rose above traffic sounds as Kalico casually walked up to the kitchen window and peered inside. He saw a tidy cream and yellow room. Copper pans hung from hooks above a shiny chrome stove. A bowl—possibly a dog’s water bowl––sat on the floor by the far cabinet.

  Kalico continued down the side of the house to a wooden gate, thankfully unlocked. He placed his hand on the warm metal latch and stopped. He needed an excuse to enter the backyard. He pulled Pippa’s slender pink leash from his pocket. If challenged, he could claim that he thought he’d seen his dog run under the fence. Pushing open the gate, Kalico moved rapidly. He looked in a small bedroom window. No movement. No dog.

  He looked up to see M’s entering the backyard. Suddenly ferocious barks erupted from behind a neighbor’s fence. The girl froze, muscles tensed, prepared to run back through the gate. The dog’s barks intensified. Kalico signaled her to stay still and quiet.

  “Jake! Shut it!” growled a man’s voice. Immediately, Jake’s barking ceased. M’s moved forward toward the sliding glass door, where Kalico joined her.

  Slowly, they pressed themselves flat against the wall on either side of the door. At Kalico’s nod, they peered inside at a living room that opened up to a small entry way. The woman’s figure was silhouetted against the open front door. Scanning the room, they found no evidence of a dog, or any other pet for that matter. M’s turned toward the side gate.

  One last window seemed to present itself. M’s raised herself on tiptoes to look through gauzy white curtains into a small bedroom that obviously served as a study. A desktop computer rested on a large desk covered with typed sheets of paper and Post-it notes. She gestured at Ben to join her. A small, metal dog crate, rested beside a Queen Anne chair, and inside it, contentedly chewing on a red, rubber Kong, sat a fluffy, white Bichon Frise.

  Kalico and M’s exchanged a silent high five.

  M’s danced from foot to foot as she waited beside Kalico for Katie to finish her conversation and come back down the walkway.

  “Oh, you found Pippa! I can tell by your faces.”

  “Yes. There’s a puppy in a crate in the lady’s study. She lied,” declared M’s.

  “Glorious.” Kate danced a little jig on the sidewalk. She pulled out her phone. “I’m calling the police.”

  “Hold on, Kit-Kat. We don’t know for certain the puppy is Pippa.”

  “The woman’s a dog-napper! I say we go in there and rescue the puppy.” M’s hands were balled into fists, and she glared at the small house. “Who are we dealing with here, Katie?”

  “Her name is Serena Moore, age 29, and she’s a doctoral candidate in American History. She’s writing the last chapter of her dissertation. I thought she was nice—certainly not my idea of someone who steals dogs or trades them on the black market.” Katie sighed. “But graduate students are inherently poor, and she lied. She may have dog-napped Pippa for a reward.”

  Wavering between alarm and amusement, Kalico said, “I admire your passion, ladies, but do I need to remind you that we have no legal authority here? We cannot go in and seize a dog. Moreover, the police would consider a call like this frivolous, and….”

  But M’s and Katie ignored his protest, pushed past him, and marched up to the front door. M’s knocked assertively three times.

  Serena Moore, looking annoyed, opened the door. “Really, I’m working and have no time for more surveys or….”

  “Ms. Moore, I work for the Kalico Detective Agency and have reason to believe that you are illegally harboring a missing Bichon Frise puppy named Pippa.” M’s squared her shoulders, looking
steadily into the young woman’s eyes. Kalico and Katie had her back.

  Serena Moore blinked; her gray eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Oh,” she sighed, her voice husky. “I know I should have told you about Abigail—uh, Pippa—when you were here earlier. I’m so sorry.” She disappeared into her house for a few minutes, then returned with Pippa, squirming in her arms. She had found the puppy six days earlier––cold, hungry, wet, and muddy. Serena had scooped her up, fed and bathed her with the intention of taking her into a vet to see if she were chipped. But the little dog was so sweet and such fun company that one day became two, and the more days that passed, the easier it became for Serena to think of the newly named Abby as her own.

  An hour later, the trio placed an excited puppy into her rightful owner’s arms. Tearfully ecstatic, Alyssa laughed and cried, hugged Kalico, and M’s and Katie and Pippa and then hugged them all again.

  As Katie walked her brother and M’s back to their cars, she glanced at her friend. “That was intense.”

  “I know!” M’s grinned at Kalico, waving the reward check. “Two hundred and sixty dollars—not a bad afternoon’s work.”

  Katie met her brother’s eyes who nodded imperceptibly. She cleared her throat, “I’ve missed you, M’s. If I did anything…Please know that I’m so sorry. I…”

  “You didn’t do anything. It’s just that I’ve changed…” M’s sighed.

  “I’ve changed too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be my friend.”

  M’s raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Really, I have changed. After all, I’m almost twenty.”

  “In ten months!”

  “But I’m walking through my twentieth year on earth.” Katie nodded triumphantly.

  “Okay. Let’s see: do you still want to be a small animal veterinarian?”

  Katie nodded.

  “Do you still drench Mint Chocolate ice cream in Hershey’s chocolate?” Another nod. “Do you stream reruns of Veronica Mars? Do you crush on Sting? Is While You Were Sleeping still your favorite movie?”

  “Stop! Okay, maybe I haven’t changed. But that means that I still love you and consider you my best friend.” Katie chewed on her lower lip, then said softly, “Missy, you know that you can talk to me about anything. No judgment.” She sent a silent appeal to her brother.

  “That goes for me too,” he said.

  M’s remained silent, but she returned Katie’s good-bye hug and nodded at her boss.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kalico whistled as studied his notes on the varied guests for the evening’s dinner and book talk. He had finished his reading homework at 3 a.m. and had to admit that he’d enjoyed Still Life. Although he preferred true crime stories, Louise Penny’s mystery was engrossing, her inspector smart and complex, and the Three Pines’ setting a place everyone would want to live. He felt confident that he would be able to hold his own in the book circle. And, best yet, Miss Winterjoy had ordered him to include the reading time on his bill. The agency’s finances were looking up for the month. He was not going to break even—damn the insurance bill—but he would be close, if he ignored the fact that he was paying himself below minimum wage. Alyssa Moore’s check had been an unexpected bonus.

  He grinned when he recalled M’s excitement as they recovered Pippa. He believed that she had taken a small step back toward Katie. He had wanted to warn her against trespass; after all, Texas is an open carry state, so intruders in back and front yards were shot yearly. But he hadn’t had the heart to dampen her enthusiasm. Her animated chatter had reminded him of the old Melissa.

  Kalico pushed a comb through his hair and felt the stubble on his chin. A shave was in order. Although he viewed the evening as a way to appease Miss Winterjoy, he admitted to himself that he looked forward to seeing Lynn and planned to take full advantage of his role as her “special guest.” As a professional, he intended to ferret out as much information from the guests as possible, so he had directed his client and her niece to encourage the ladies to reminisce. Did anyone have special knowledge of automobiles? What past jealousies or grievances could have prompted one of them to harm Nancy? He doubted strongly that a would-be murderer would be sitting at the dinner table, yet Nancy’s accidents were suspicious. If nothing else, the evening could bring closure to Miss Winterjoy’s case.

  Promptly at 6 p.m. Kalico entered the Winterjoy home. Trey and Snow greeted him with joyful barks, Perdita arched her back and rubbed her face against his shin, and Lynn, laughing, rescued his mother’s broccoli, cheese, and rice casserole from his outstretched hands. As he followed her into the kitchen where she set the dish beside a myriad of salad bowls and casseroles and pie plates, he could hear voices and laughter emanating from the living room.

  “Aunt Em is plying the guests with white wine spritzers to loosen their tongues,” Lynn whispered. Aloud she said, “Okay, let’s make our entrance, boyfriend,” and she linked her arm through his.

  Kalico looked down at her. Soft brown curls framed her face; amber earrings glinted in the light, complementing her sleeveless, golden top. “I’m with you, girlfriend.” He let her draw him into the next room.

  A lively scene presented itself. Nancy MacLeod lounged on the sofa propped up by over-sized pillows. She wore a shear, high collared coral blouse with ruffles at the neck and wrists. Dangling silver discs shimmered at her ears. Moody, posted at her feet, grinned broadly and thumped her tail when she saw Kalico, but did not move. Beside her, Susan Jankowsky, elegant in white slacks and a white lace top adorned with a long, silver necklace, looked up smiling. Across from her, Margie Davis, in practical dark blue jeans with a matching jean jacket, and Jane Roundtree, resembling a little brown hen in an ill-fitting pants suit, nodded their welcome and then returned to their conversation.

  Miss Winterjoy, who was handing a thin, middle-aged man a wine glass, noted the young couple’s linked arms and nodded approval. “Welcome, Ben. I think you’ve met everyone except Randal Johnston. Randal, this is Benjamin Kalico.”

  Randal crossed the room to shake hands, seeming relieved at another male presence. Kalico recognized him from an earlier background check as the adult fiction librarian who had worked with Nancy for the past ten years. He was 37 years old, married with an eight-year-old son, coached his son’s soccer team, loved sailing and photography. He had no criminal record—not even a traffic violation.

  “Nice to meet you.” Randal’s handshake was cool and firm. “Say, aren’t you that pet detective?”

  “Just detective,” Kalico corrected.

  “Glad you’re here. My wife and son are visiting grandma in Florida, so I thought I’d come to the book circle.” He lowered his voice slightly. “Food is always terrific. And Louise Penny is a master at crime fiction.”

  “Yes, I…”

  “Ben, come and greet Moody before she shakes herself to pieces,” Nancy called, extending her hand.

  “Excuse me.” Kalico moved to Nancy, taking her hand. Suddenly, he was tempted to kiss it, like a gentleman in an old movie, but he bent instead to stroke the insistent little dog’s head. “How are you feeling?” Although her make-up was done expertly, he could see red streaks, which lingered on her cheeks. Her eyes were still slightly swollen.

  “Fine. But tired of answering that question—all for a little bee sting.” She shook her head and smiled in a self-deprecating way. “I have discovered that healing is more difficult the older one gets. But I see my doctor on Thursday and should be able to resume normal activities.”

  “Nancy, that’s terrific.” Ben settled into an empty chair and Lynn perched on its arm. Kalico casually put his arm around her waist––just to steady her.

  “I’m glad to get out my house this evening!”

  “Yes, and with such great friends. How long has your book circle been meeting?”

  “Oh, my goodness. We started in college—I think during our sophomore year. It must have been 1964. Fifty years ago.”

  “And you’ve been frie
nds all of this time!”

  Nancy flicked the rim of her glass, signaling for silence. “Ladies! My young hero here wants to know the secret of our friendship.”

  “Patience.”

  “Tolerance.”

  “Good food.”

  “Humor.”

  “How did your circle form?” Lynn asked, seeing an opportunity for the group to reminisce. “I know Em and Nancy have been friends for eons, but….”

  “Not quite eons, dear,” her aunt interposed. “We were fierce rivals in the fifth grade.”

  “Yes! Miss Bryant’s reading contest,” Margie exclaimed. “I did not stand a chance against those two.”

  “Our teacher gave us a long list of novels, ranging from children’s books like The Secret Garden to difficult novels like David Copperfield and The Grapes of Wrath,” Emelia explained. “Each book was assigned a star value: one star for a short, easy read and ten stars for adult novels.”

  “I can see that reading chart now: the gold stars lining up after our names. One week, I’d be ahead. The next Em would seize the lead. We left the other kids in our dust.” She glanced sympathetically at Margie. “You did do well, Mar. Ten stars, if I remember correctly.”

  “Twelve. But you and Emelia: accrued over forty stars each.”

  “But who won?” Kalico asked, genuinely curious.

  “We were tied with one week left of the contest. I picked up Gone with the Wind—a ten star book. Emelia was bogged down somewhere in the middle of Wuthering Heights.”

  “Yes, I was lost on the desolate Yorkshire moors.” She shook her head. “At ten years old I could not make sense of Cathy and Heathcliff’s grand passion. And all the repeated names! I still cannot like that book.”

  “I felt certain that I was going to win the fifth grade reading trophy. But at the last moment, Ems picked up The Scarlet Letter.”

  “Yes! Day and night for three days, I spent every moment reading. Used a flashlight in order to read after bedtime. I passed Miss Bryant’s reading check questions and earned my final ten stars.”

  “I did not quite finish Gone with the Wind on time. Rhett Butler fascinated me, so I read and reread passages that featured him. As a result our teacher granted me only seven stars.” Nancy sighed.