by Sandi Scott
“I know, right? And there's apparently some pretty good money to be made if the celebrity is well-known. Of course, you need to be willing to steal from someone, and maybe to store some pretty nasty stuff until it sells. I think I'll stick to catering!” Ashley shook her head as they scrolled farther down.
“Looks like Sam, or someone anyway, wasn't only picking up Chance's stuff. See—there are some of Brent's things listed, too. And it looks like the bids jumped up big time after his death was announced. That's kind of sleazy, don't you think?” Ryan looked disgusted by what he clearly saw as greedy people taking advantage of a tragedy.
“Wait,” Ashley had an aha moment. “What if Sam was stealing from Brent, and he caught her? Maybe she killed him when he confronted her!” She rushed off to get dressed, eager to share her insight with Luna, leaving Ryan bemused at her having totally forgotten about their breakfast date.
Sheriff Mueller was just getting out of his car when Ashley pulled up in front of the mansion. He called out to her, “Good morning, Ashley! Any word on your dog yet?”
“Yes, someone brought her to the shelter yesterday. She was found over near Port Lavaca. I'm picking her up this afternoon to take her home.” Ashley's face was beaming as she shared the good news.
“All right,” the sheriff smiled. “I'm glad to hear it. I know the deputies were looking everywhere they went on patrol. A bunch of them seem to know Dizzy pretty well, and they all wanted to help get her back home.”
Ashley nodded. “Hey, Ryan and I were watching the news last night and saw your press conference. It sounded like y'all are making some progress in figuring out what happened to Brent Redstaff.” Then, she quickly explained about the celebrity sale site and what she thought when Ryan showed her Brent's things.
“Hmm, that's not a bad lead,” the sheriff mused. “Be sure you share the information with Detective Luna.”
Ashley nodded. “I definitely will. Oh, and now that you've been on television, maybe someone will steal stuff from you. You could be famous, too!”
They both laughed before the sheriff replied, “No thanks, that's the last thing I need! I'm the sheriff in a small, rural county in Texas for a reason—and fame isn't it!”
Waving, Ashley headed inside, where Patty was already setting up the table with the food she picked up at Fresh Starts kitchen that morning.
“Good morning, girl,” Patty smiled at her partner. “I was so glad to get your text about Dizzy last night. What on earth happened with that silly animal?”
Ashley explained about the woman who found the dogs and where they were. “And Patty, Dizzy found the cutest puppy. Apparently, she rescued him from somewhere; his little leg is broken, but the vet says he'll be okay soon. When I got to the shelter, Dizzy was happy to see me, but she didn't want to leave her new friend. It was so sweet!”
“You know, it's hard to be alone. Friendships are really important. I guess that's just as true for dogs as it is for humans.” Patty seemed a little wistful when she said that. Ashley wondered if there was anything wrong, but she didn't think it was the right time to ask.
Detective Luna walked up and looked over the goodies on the table, finally settling on a coconut lime scone for his morning snack. He accepted the mug of coffee Patty offered him and thanked her before turning to Ashley.
“Good morning, Ms. Adams,” he greeted her. “I heard you found your dog. As much as I hated her messing up my crime scene the other day, she's a great dog. I'm glad she's okay.” He didn't quite smile, but Ashley caught a twinkle in his eyes.
“Yes, her adventure turned into a rescue mission,” Ashley said, explaining about the puppy. “I'm picking her up this afternoon. I promise that I'll keep her out of your way this evening and for the rest of the shoot. How's the case going? I found out something this morning and had a thought about it. Sheriff Mueller said to be sure and tell you.” She explained her theory about Sam or someone getting caught stealing Brent's things and killing him to keep from being reported.
“That's an interesting possibility,” the detective agreed. “By the way, my detectives are back from their guys' weekend so I won't need your help in the interviews today.” He noticed the disappointment on Ashley's face. “There is still something you can do for me, though. Would you mind looking at the video shot the night of Mr. Redstaff's death? It would save me some time if you could make a note of anything you think I should check out.”
Ashley agreed and went into the room where the playback equipment was set up. She watched carefully, amazed at how realistic the haunting stuff seemed after Sam's editing even though she had seen how it had all been faked. Unfortunately, she didn't see anything that seemed to help with the murder.
Just as she finished the last segment, a young man came in carrying a brown envelope. He looked around, spotting Ashley through the doorway. “Hello,” he said. “I'm looking for . . .” he checked the front of the envelope, “a Detective Luna. Is he available?”
“He's interviewing someone right now,” Ashley replied. “I can get hi—”
“Oh, you must be his secretary,” the young man interrupted without looking at her again. “I'm from the medical examiner's office. This is the autopsy report that the detective needs. Please be sure he gets it.” He tossed the envelope on the table and turned abruptly, rushing back out of the house.
“Oh, I must be a secretary, huh? Because I'm a woman, I guess? How can someone that young still have an attitude that old?” she grumbled aloud. She fumed for a second more before she looked at the envelope, considering its contents. Should she peek at the report? Just how mad was that likely to make the detective?
“I'm sure he's going to tell me what it says anyway,” she muttered to herself. “I'm just saving him a little more time and effort by reading it for myself. I'm helping him, not just snooping.” Even Ashley didn't really believe that, and she was sure the detective wouldn't buy it either, but she wasn't going to miss the opportunity to get more information. Carefully opening the clasp on the back of the envelope and slipping the papers out, she skipped over the basic information about Brent's age, height, weight and other statistics and searched for the cause of death. Surprisingly, the report didn't list blunt force trauma in the blank, but instead indicated that Brent died by electrocution. The medical examiner had added a note about burn marks she'd found on Brent's hands. Sitting back in her chair, Ashley thought about what she'd just read, trying to envision what must have happened. The broken vase had been on a table just inside the door. Brent must have stepped into the room, turned on the light, and been electrocuted. When he fell, he would have hit the table and knocked the vase to the floor, which broke near his head. That made it look like he'd been hit with it.
She mentally scanned through the suspect list, trying to think who could have been responsible. Sam knows about electricity from her camera work, and she would have known that Brent would be there. She could have tampered with the wiring if Brent caught her stealing, thinking the death would be considered an accident caused by the house's old wiring. Something tickled in the back of her mind, something she'd seen or heard, but she couldn't quite pull it out from the depths of memory.
Sam walked out of the interview room and straight out of the house without looking around. Ashley watched, knowing she couldn't do anything to stop her.
“Detective,” Ashley called out as Luna headed toward the front door. “Someone from the medical examiner's office stopped by and left this autopsy report for you.”
Luna pulled the papers out and read them, murmuring, “Hmm . . .” but not saying anything else. Still watching him, Ashley walked over to Sheriff Mueller, who had just come in to grab a snack.
“Sheriff, do you think your brother, Tim—isn't he the electrician—could come over here this afternoon? I think he might be able to help us figure out some things about Brent's death.”
“Sure,” Mueller said. “I'll give him a call. What's on your mind, Ashley?”
“I'm not com
pletely sure,” she admitted. “I'd rather wait until we talk to Tim, but I'll tell you all about it then.”
The sheriff pulled out his phone, stepped away, and dialed his brother's number while Luna glanced at Ashley. He didn't say anything, but Ashley knew she'd been busted—he surely knew she'd snooped into the report.
“Ms. Adams,” the detective cleared his throat. “Ms. List just informed me that Fortune has sent the crew home early today. We'll be locking up the house shortly.”
The sheriff ended his call and walked back to where Ashley waited. “Tim's tied up the rest of the day,” he said, “but he'll come by in the morning. Are you sure you don't want to share your theories?”
Ashley smiled. “No, I'm not sure enough about wiring and electricity and all of those things. I'd rather wait to hear what Tim has to say.”
“Humph,” she heard Luna snort. “Something you've read recently giving you new ideas?”
Ashley held her breath, was she going to be in trouble for sneaking a peek at the report? But to her surprise Luna actually winked at her before going back to perusing the paperwork.
“Something like that,” she said, laughing. “And now, I have to hit the road—there's a dog waiting for me to take her home!”
Ashley smiled at the thought of having some extra free time to spend with Dizzy. She wrapped up a couple of packages of sandwiches and baked goods for the sheriff and the detective to take home with them. Then, she gathered her things and left before Chance could change his mind about quitting early.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ashley pulled into the parking lot at the shelter and jumped out of the car, hardly waiting to put the car into park and turn off the engine before jogging to the front door. She knew Dizzy was fine, but it wouldn't feel real until they were both back at home, snuggled together on the couch.
“Wow! Dizzy, you look great,” she exclaimed. The shelter staff obviously had groomed her; the dog's coat was clean and shiny, and she was wearing a brand new collar. “You look like you're ready for a party—look at you, you've even had your nails done! Are you ready to go?”
Dizzy jumped around in a tight circle, clearly excited to see Ashley and to go for a ride. Ashley hooked a leash to the new collar and turned toward the door. Dizzy stopped in her tracks, though, and turned toward the back of the building.
“What is it, girl?” Ashley asked. “C'mon, Diz, let's go home.” The dog looked up at Ashley and whined, pulling toward the door to the back.
The volunteer at the receptionist's desk came around the corner and knelt beside Dizzy. “Hey, sweetie—what's up? Are you worried about your little friend? He'll be okay; we'll take good care of him, and we'll do our best to find him a new home. He's going to his new foster home today so you aren't leaving him alone here.”
Soon, Ryan came through the door. “Hey, Dizzy girl, you're looking good!” He leaned in and gave Ashley a quick kiss while patting Dizzy's head.
“Ryan, what are you doing here?” Ashley asked, surprised to see him.
Looking a little sheepish, “Well . . .” Ryan started, but the door to the back area opened before he could continue. The shelter's veterinarian appeared, carrying the little male puppy freshly groomed and collared with a cast on his injured leg.
“Hi, Sarah,” Ashley greeted the young doctor. “Hey, little one! How's he doing, doc?”
“He's doing really well,” the doctor responded, “and he's a lucky puppy to be leaving today.”
Ashley was confused. Surely the staff didn't think that she was taking the puppy home, along with Dizzy. She was tempted, of course. Who wouldn't be? The puppy was adorable, but there was no way she could take care of a young dog. She just couldn't commit to the time to housebreak a new puppy while the TV show was still filming. Before she could ask, Ryan cleared his throat. “Relax, Ashley,” he laughed. “This little guy is coming home with me. I'm going to foster him for Dr. Esperanza until someone's ready to adopt him. I figured that since I make my own work schedule, I could help take care of him.”
“That's great,” she answered. “He and Dizzy can stay friends and have lots of play time together. In fact, how about if we all go to the park for a romp now?”
Ryan agreed, and they headed out to the parking lot after saying goodbye to the shelter staff. They drove the three blocks to the park and turned the dogs loose in the fenced dog park. While the dogs chased each other, their humans sat together on a nearby bench and caught each other up on the events of the day.
“Look at those two,” Ryan pointed to the dogs. “I bet they'd love it if we were together all the time.”
Ashley was taken aback. Was Ryan hinting at them moving in together? She really liked him, and she'd been enjoying the way their relationship was developing, but she knew that she was not ready to take that step. She decided it was a good time to change the subject.
“Do you have plans for this evening?” Ashley asked. “I made chicken enchiladas the other day as an apology for being so rude to you, but we didn't get around to them. I was thinking that I could call Patty and Smoke Daddy, and we could have dinner together at the cottage.”
“Your chicken enchiladas and those two? What's not to love about that?” Ryan laughed. “Give Patty a call; I'll text Smoke Daddy to meet us there at what? About 6:30?”
“That sounds about right,” she responded. “That gives me time to fix a side or two, along with dessert. Maybe after we eat, Patty and I can do a little baking for tomorrow while we all catch up. I have a new recipe I want to try, and you could all be my guinea pigs!”
“Anytime—I'll taste anything you or Patty want to share,” Ryan agreed eagerly. They made their calls and corralled their canine companions. Ryan headed to the pet store to pick up a few necessities, while Ashley headed home with Dizzy.
Later, the doorbell sounded, and Dizzy went running to see who was at the door. Ashley leaned around the corner from the kitchen to see Ryan and the puppy. “Come on in,” she called. “I knew you were on your way, so it's unlocked. Why don't you let the dogs into the backyard?” Ryan opened the French doors to the back and let the dogs out and came into the kitchen where he gave Ashley a quick kiss in greeting. After that, he took a seat on one of the stools around the kitchen island.
Ashley finished chopping the parsley she'd picked from her herb garden and scraped it into a bowl filled with cooked brown rice. She reached into the cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out a pair of gloves. “What are you up to now?” Ryan asked, teasing her. “I'm a little nervous that you're breaking out the gloves while you're fixing supper.”
“I'm about to handle jalapenos, and I don't want the burn all over my hands or face,” she answered. She cut the stem off a couple of the chili peppers, then sliced them down one side to open them flat. She removed the seeds and scraped out the veins.
“Hey, you're taking out all the good stuff,” Ryan said.
“You and Smoke Daddy may want everything hot,” Ashley said, “but Patty and I want it a little tamer. I'll slice some extra peppers that you can add to your own plate, but I'm keeping the rice mellow.” She chopped one of the peppers and added it to the bowl with the rice and parsley.
“I'm using parsley tonight, too,” she continued. “Patty and cilantro do not get along so I'm leaving it out.” She sprinkled in a handful of corn kernels that she'd cut from freshly picked cobs from her own garden, then stirred everything together before scooping it into a serving dish.
“Now, the next part of this is just between us,” she warned. “You can't ever tell anyone about the shortcut I'm taking on dessert. Well, Patty will know, but our catering clients can never know.”
Ryan was intrigued. “What are you planning? Is this the new recipe you were talking about?”
“Nope,” she answered. “I'll work on that one later. We're going to have buñuelo bowl sundaes, but it's too late to make the cups from scratch. I'm going to take advantage of some premade help from the grocery store.” She opened the refrigerator
and pulled out a package.
“Are those tortillas?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, flour tortillas,” Ashley said. “Now you know my secret.” She put a tortilla into a round fryer basket and lowered it into a pot of hot oil. When the pastry was golden brown, she removed it from the oil and put it in a bowl of cinnamon and sugar, rolling it and scooping up the sweet goodness to coat the whole bowl. She repeated the process with three more tortillas, then set them aside to use later.
Patty and Smoke Daddy Lee arrived, and everyone exchanged hugs and hellos. Ashley handed Ryan placemats, plates, and silverware and shooed the men into the dining room to set the table. She and Patty pulled the enchiladas from the oven, poured the tomatillo-avocado dip into a serving bowl, and poured tea into ice-filled glasses. The two couples chatted, gossiped and laughed over their food. Smoke Daddy told them all about the tourists he'd encountered that morning.
“These two women—early thirties, I'd guess—were wearing old-fashioned clothes that looked like they'd dragged them through the dust. Their faces were all made up with white powder. Someone asked them if they were working on their costumes for Halloween, but nope, that wasn't it. Seems like they've come to town to 'soothe the angry spirits' who killed Brent Redstaff. They said that being dressed like that would make the ghosts feel more comfortable and trusting. You'd think someone their age would have outgrown that kind of nonsense.” Ashley noticed that Patty looked a bit irritated at Smoke Daddy's comments, but neither of them said anything. Knowing what she did about her friend's attitude about ghosts, Ashley had a feeling the man was in for a tongue-lashing later.
As Ashley added ice cream and chocolate sauce to the buñuelo bowls, and Patty set mugs of coffee on the counter, the guys gathered the dinner dishes and put them in the sink. “Ashley,” Smoke Daddy Lee's deep voice rumbled. “What's going on at that old house? Has the sheriff made any progress on that Brent guy's death?”
