“How about your mother?”
“A cat lady who’s afraid of big dogs.”
Swell. “Then do you know anyone who might want a dog?”
“Fozzie knows Jessica, so maybe…”
I had to talk to her anyway. “I’ll ask.”
“He’s a nice dog. If not her, I’m sure someone will want him.”
I was counting on it.
Chapter Ten
“IS THERE A good reason that dog is chasing squirrels in my backyard?” Gram asked, scowling out her kitchen window.
Yeah. I didn’t want my car destroyed by a stir-crazy fur ball. “It’s just for a few minutes so that he can run around while I have lunch.”
“What’s wrong with him running around at his own house?”
“That’s a long story.” That I didn’t want to get into, especially while Fozzie and the German shepherd next door barked at one another through the fence.
Turning away from the commotion outside, Gram narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s what you said yesterday.”
“And it’s still true.”
“Just how long does this guy expect you to take care of his dog?”
“Uh…he doesn’t exactly.”
“Charmaine Digby, what have you gotten yourself involved in?”
I caved under her look of reproach and buried my head in her refrigerator. “What is this?” I lifted the glass cover. “Meatloaf?”
“Yes.” She nudged me aside and pushed the refrigerator door shut. “And you’re not having any until you tell me what’s going on.”
I blew out a breath. “Fine.”
Leaning against the blue and white tile counter, Gram folded her arms. “So, whose dog is that?”
“Colt Ziegler’s.”
“Tami Ziegler’s boy?”
I nodded.
“I know she’s had some challenges with him over the years, but what’s the problem now?”
There was no way to sugar-coat Colt’s problem. “He’s dead, Gram.”
Her eyes widened. “Dead! What happened?”
“He sustained some sort of head injury early yesterday morning,” I said, sticking with the sanitized version of the story I’d been telling most of the last twenty-four hours.
“Oh, my. So, you’re involved because the coroner’s office is investigating his death?”
No, but that provided the dollop of plausibility I needed without the mention of any names I knew she’d worry about. “Sort of.”
Her lips twisted into a pucker of disappointment. “I get it. You can’t talk about it.”
At least that much was true.
“Sorry,” I said, reaching for the refrigerator handle when I heard the upstairs toilet flush.
It was time to scarf down some meatloaf and get back to work before my mother decided to come down and get in on the Twenty Questions action.
Gram grabbed my arm. “Not so fast. That doesn’t explain why you have his dog.”
“I didn’t want him to end up at a shelter, at least not before I had a chance to talk to Colt’s family.”
“That should have happened by now, right?”
I nodded. “No takers so far, but I have a few more people to talk to later today.”
Gram shifted her attention to the five-foot-four fireball storming toward us while cinching the belt of her silk robe. “Uh-oh, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
And this someone should have bought a sandwich for lunch and taken Fozzie to the park.
“What the heck is going on back there?” Marietta demanded. “That dog next door is raising enough ruckus to wake the dead.”
Close. It woke her, and before noon.
She sucked in a breath when she reached the window. “Call nine-one-one! There’s a bear in the yard!”
Good grief. Not only did she need some coffee, she needed glasses. “It’s just a dog.”
“Oh.” Turning, my mother frowned as much as her most recent Botox injection would allow. “And why is it in our backyard?”
Our? A declaration of kinship from someone who had been conspicuous in her absence throughout the fifteen years I had lived here?
I exchanged glances with my grandmother, who was giving me a subtle headshake.
I knew what she was telling me. Let it go. Easy for her to say—or in this case, not say.
Since I needed to keep the words at the tip of my tongue from spilling out, I opened the refrigerator to find something else to gnaw on. “I’m dog-sitting for a couple of days. We’ll be gone in a few minutes.”
Gram reached past me for a bag of French roast. “You might as well stay for coffee. I’m making fresh for your mother.”
“Yes, stay.” Marietta gave me a quick caress as she passed behind me. “I’ve hardly seen you for days.”
We tended to get along better that way.
Gritting my teeth, I turned to Gram. “You know I was trying to get the heck out of here,” I whispered.
She kissed me on the forehead. “I do indeed.”
I glowered at her. “I’m eating this meatloaf.”
“Be my guest.” She pointed at the kitchen table, where my mother was settling into a chair. “Just do it over there. I’ll bring you a cup of coffee when it’s ready.”
“You’d better make it a double.”
Marietta’s green eyes brightened when I arrived with a ceramic casserole dish of meatloaf, and she promptly plucked the fork from my hand and dug in. “Goody, I’m starving.”
“Mama, you still make the best meatloaf,” she said between moans of carnal delight.
I stared at her, amazed. It wasn’t just that she was devouring the seasoned slab of hamburger and bread crumbs that was supposed to be my lunch, but that she could make chewing look so sensual.
Of course, the pouty Cupid’s bow lips helped.
I had her eyes, but not her lips. Also, not her boobs, tight tush, or shapely legs. Kinship obviously had its limits in the DNA department, too.
She pushed the fork at me. “Have some, honey. The protein’s good for you on your diet.”
I’d adhered to a long tradition of ignoring my mother’s unsolicited dieting advice, but my growling stomach insisted that I make an exception this once.
And also not think about all the carbs I was about to consume.
Leaning on an elbow, she rested her chin in her palm. “So, what did Steve say about the wedding invitation?”
“Nothing,” I said with my mouth full.
“He didn’t even mention it?”
“He had a busy day and probably hadn’t looked at his mail.”
She picked at my lunch with her fingertips. “Hmmmpf, if he doesn’t mention it today, maybe you should.”
“Mention what?” Gram asked, bringing a carton of milk and a couple of spoons to the table.
I cocked my head at her. “That wedding invitation that no one on this side of the street should have known anything about.”
She shifted her gaze to the wood-grain vinyl floor. “Oh, that.”
“Charmaine,” Marietta said, “it was an honest mistake. I’m sure Steve gets some of your grandmother’s mail every once in a while.”
Yeah, but I’d bet money that he didn’t hold it up to the light to try to read it.
After splitting the last chunk of meatloaf with my mother, I carried the dish to the sink.
Gram followed me. “I wish I’d never shown her that envelope. It was just that I was so surprised to see Gina’s name after all this time.”
Turning to her, I kept my voice low. “How come you never mentioned meeting her?”
“Didn’t seem important.”
The only thing true in what she had just said was the discomfort behind her words. “Want to try again?”
Gram shook her head. “Okay, I knew you liked him, so I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news.”
“What do you mean? He didn’t come over to tell you they were getting married, did he?”
She pr
essed her lips together.
“Oh.”
While I felt like all the oxygen was being sucked out of the room, this revelation didn’t change anything. I’d heard through friends that the relationship had seemed serious, and then weeks later, it was over.
I’d always been curious about what happened, and now I was even more curious. Darn it.
“What did you think of her?” I asked, hating myself for needing to know.
“I thought she was beautiful, and I liked her. She seemed genuinely nice.” Gram searched my face as if she were trying to gauge my reaction. “Is that enough?”
“Yep.” Since my grandmother tended to be a good judge of character, that was more than enough.
“What are you two gabbing about over here?” Marietta asked on her way to the coffee pot.
“Nothing important.” And not anything I wanted to discuss with the resident wedding crasher.
The corners of her mouth curled into a knowing smile. “It’s the fact that Steve hasn’t said anything about that wedding invitation, isn’t it?”
The volume of barking in the backyard escalated, giving me a timely cue for a hasty exit. “I need to go.” Preferably where an ex-girlfriend’s wedding wasn’t the topic du jour.
“I’m telling you,” Marietta admonished when I turned to retrieve Fozzie’s leash. “You need to talk to him about it—tonight.”
Maybe.
Probably.
Okay, okay. Steve and I needed to talk.
Crap. I hated it when my mother was right.
* * *
After my lunch break, I figured I’d better report in at the courthouse before Patsy put an APB out on me, so I left Fozzie in my car and made my way to the third floor.
“Where have you been?” Patsy grumbled, not looking up from her computer screen as I passed her desk.
“Interviews, and they’re not over with.” Because I’d barely made a dent with Colt’s neighbors.
“Don’t make a career out of it.”
While Patsy snickered at her own joke, I met the gaze of a watchful assistant clicking on a keyboard across the hall. Like Gram, she shook her head.
Yep. Let it go. Pretend I’m a shark and just keep moving. Otherwise, Patsy could make my life miserable here, and this week already had more than enough misery to spread around.
That misery was going to compound if I didn’t get that report written. So after I settled into my desk chair and answered a couple of emails, I fished Eric Caldwell’s business card out of my tote and made an appointment to see him at noon tomorrow.
If anyone would know if Colt had been battling old demons, I figured it would be his cousin Eric. Not that a relapse and a cracked skull had to have a direct connection, but I wanted to know what Eric thought on that subject. Even more, I wanted Ben to know, especially if that could lead to charging a suspect other than Little Dog.
I needed to keep Steve in this loop, too, but I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to see him. Not when I had so much to tell him. And when he had a little something I hoped he’d want to tell me.
I sent him a text. R u free for dinner?
I had just pulled into the Madrone Arms parking lot when he replied ten minutes later. Doubtful. Will call you later.
Dang.
I turned to the dog next to me. “Looks like you’re going to be my dinner date unless Jessica will take you.”
And since I wanted to talk to her alone, I hoped Seth would be working some overtime tonight.
“Either way, dinner’s gonna be late.”
Fozzie licked his chops. No doubt because he’d picked up the scent of burgers on the grill a couple of blocks away.
I gently chucked him under the chin while I clipped on his leash. “Sorry, boy. I’m sure you’re hungry now. As long as we’re here, shall we see if Colt ripped off some nice biscuits for you?”
Fozzie chuffed.
“Sorry,” I said to the dog following me out of my car. Who was I to cast dispersions on his former owner? At least he was feeding his dog some quality stuff.
Even if it was ripped off.
Fozzie looked up at me as if he could hear my thoughts.
“I’m not apologizing to a dog one more time today.” I gave his leash a little snap. “Let’s get you a snack and see if there’s anything else of yours we should take to Jessica’s.”
While Fozzie led the way to unit 3, I scanned the lot for a cherry red minivan.
No minivans, red or otherwise, were in sight. No trucks parked out front either, so either Kendra had come and gone, or she had been in no hurry to clean up after her brother one last time.
Since Fozzie Bear had remained at his post outside the door, I suspected the latter.
To be on the safe side, I knocked on the door. When I didn’t hear any noise coming from the apartment, I reached into the bear statue’s back and retrieved the key Lily had used yesterday.
Fozzie didn’t hesitate to barge in when I swung open the door, but I did.
“Hello?”
I didn’t get a reply, so I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me.
While Fozzie explored the kitchen with the dirty dishes still in the sink, I did a quick survey of the living room. It didn’t appear that anyone had been here since I locked up last night.
All the same, I checked the bedroom to make sure we were alone.
Yep, the only thing breathing in there was the dog that seemed to be searching for the usual occupant of the apartment.
I scratched behind Fozzie’s ear when he paused to sniff the rumpled sheets on the bed. “Sorry, pal. He’s not here.”
But a scent definitely lingered, a seamy blend of sex, sweat, and flowery perfume.
Since Jessica had moved out over a month ago, I didn’t want to know how long it had been since Colt had changed the sheets.
Because he couldn’t bear to let go of the smell of her in his bed?
The framed eight-by-ten of a pretty blonde on the nightstand certainly would lend some support to that argument.
I reached for the picture to get a better look at her, and a white envelope that had been propped behind it fell to the carpet.
When I leaned over to pick it up, I noticed that Colt’s name had been written in a swirly, feminine hand.
“Think we should check it out?” I asked the dog.
I didn’t wait for an answer and unfolded the flap of the unsealed envelope.
Inside was a ruled sheet of paper with a short and not very sweet message.
I’m sorry for leaving this way.
I hope you can return the ring.
Jess
Ring? As in engagement ring?
I did a quick check of the bedroom and didn’t find any trace of a woman’s ring, but that didn’t surprise me. It was only reasonable that a guy stealing dog food would take his ex-girlfriend’s advice and return the ring he bought her.
Assuming that the thief who used to live here hadn’t also stolen that ring.
Chapter Eleven
BY THE TIME Lily arrived home from school, I hadn’t learned much new from knocking on every door at the Madrone Arms.
Some guy that Mrs. Melnicke in apartment 2 never got a good look at had pounded on Colt’s door Saturday night, and then peeled away in a pickup truck. All she could tell me was that she thought the truck had tinted windows and was fairly new, and there had been no one else at home who could add to the story.
I hadn’t wanted to hang around to see who might show up. If that person happened to be Kendra, I didn’t want to give her the impression I was waiting for her to let me into the apartment I had searched a couple of hours earlier.
Not that there was anything in there of interest besides that note.
As I’d quickly discovered while looking for dog biscuits, Colt’s cupboards were pretty bare. And that included his medicine cabinet. I found an almost empty bottle of aspirin, but that was it. No needles, no paraphernalia—nothing to indicate that anything other than cheap
beer was his drug of choice.
Of course, Steve could have already confiscated the stuff of a more mood-altering nature.
While I would have loved to go have a chat with him about what he found during his search, I didn’t think he’d be too keen on the idea.
I was just about to start my car when I noticed that Lily seemed to be having trouble with her door key, and a better idea popped into my head.
“Want to go say hello, boy? I’m sure there’s someone here who would like to see you.” And if Kendra happened to pull into the parking lot, it would look like I was trying to find another home for her brother’s dog.
Perfect.
Climbing out of the Jag, I held the door open for Fozzie.
“Look who’s here,” I called out to Lily while a black streak raced toward her.
“Fozzie!” Squealing with joy, she dropped her backpack and wrapped her arms around the wriggling dog. “What are you doing here?”
I hated the idea of lying to this kid, but the reason behind my visit was too depressing for full disclosure. “We thought we’d come visit as long as we were in the neighborhood.”
“Awesome!”
I clipped on Fozzie’s leash and handed it to Lily. “Want to take Fozzie on a walk around the block?”
“Absolutely.” She opened the door and tossed her backpack inside. “Let’s go, Fozzie,” she said, running off with the dog.
Crap. I should have clarified that I was supposed to be part of this deal. Also, that no running would be involved. I’d had enough running for one day.
I set out to catch up. “Wait for me.”
Lily glanced back, the dog straining at the leash.
“I thought I could come too. You know, get some exercise.”
She nodded. “Sure. My mom is always telling me how exercise is important as we get older.”
I felt like I had just been catapulted to her mother’s side of forty.
No matter. Lily could age me as much as she wanted as long as I could have the next fifteen minutes alone with her.
While I waited for a stinky diesel truck to motor past us on Madrone Way, I tried to think of a conversation starter that wouldn’t sound like I was pumping her for information. “Did you ever go on walks with Jessica?”
Dogs, Lies, and Alibis: A Humorous Cozy Mystery (A Workings Stiffs Mystery Book 5) Page 8
