A Basket of Murder: A Pet Shop Cozy Mystery (Pet Shop Cozy Mysteries Book 4)

by Susie Gayle

  “Wouldn’t you know it?” I tell the old man. “Now I have to use the bathroom. Too much coffee. Back in a flash.”

  I leave the office and find Karen in the reception area of the shop, click-clacking away on a computer with a POS system attached.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper to her.

  “Come here, look at this.” She points to the screen. “They track their customers by last name, so naturally, I searched for myself.” Sure enough, on the screen is an invoice for Bear, Karen.

  “Okay, great. What does it mean?”

  “Remember when I told you that Tony offered me a deal, and then charged me full price when I rejected him?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Well, look at the total that’s marked here. He put me in the system under his original deal.”

  “So… you think that he pocketed the difference?”

  “I think it’s more complicated than that,” she says gravely.

  CHAPTER 15

  * * *

  Tony arrives back at the shop about half an hour later. When he comes in, I’m waiting for him in the reception area. He greets me with a big smile.

  “Ey, Will! Man, I just found the perfect location to open a shop. I can’t wait to tell the old man all about it.”

  “Glad to hear it, Tony.”

  “And I’m glad you stuck around. I wanted to know if you found anything else about poor Jerry.”

  “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  “Well? Lay it on me.”

  Okay. Deep breath. Grab the bull. Assert dominance.

  “For starters, I found out that it would cost at least fifty grand, if not more, for you to franchise a Sockets & Sprockets.”

  His smile dissipates. “Yeah, that’s about right. So what?”

  “I also know that you never applied for a loan through your bank—my ex-wife happens to be their loan officer.”

  “I didn’t need to,” he says somewhat defensively. “I saved up.”

  “Right—except that Mr. Casey told us he’s been working on the franchise deal for about two years, which means that you couldn’t have known about it before that. So are we to believe that you saved fifty thousand dollars in two years?”

  “Well… of course not. I pulled some money from my retirement fund, 401K, savings account, all that jazz.”

  “That stands up to reason,” I admit. “But there’s one other thing. You charged a customer full price for a job, and then only logged a fraction of it into the system. Mr. Casey does all the bookkeeping himself, and his eyes aren’t what they used to be. I’m guessing you pocketed the difference.”

  Tony frowns deeply. “Will, I don’t think I like where this is going.”

  “I’m also guessing that’s not the first or last time you’ve done it. It probably started small, doing favors for friends like you’re doing for me. Then you realized you can get away with it, and upped the ante—charging full price and logging less.”

  Tony stares daggers at me for a long moment. “Alright. Fine, you got me. I’ve been skimming here and there. So what? In the end I’ll open up another location and the old man will make all that money back anyway.”

  I shake my head. “He already knows, Tony.”

  The color drains from his face. “You… told on me?”

  I nod. “He knows, and I think that Jerry knew, too.”

  Tony’s mouth drops open a little. “No…”

  “No? That’s not what Jerry was worried about these past few months? I bet he knew you were skimming, but he was such a good friend that he didn’t want to tell on you.”

  “No way…”

  “He probably asked you to stop. Gave you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “That’s not how it happened…”

  “Maybe he gave you an ultimatum. Stop or he’ll tell the old man. That night at the Runside, you had a few drinks, got bold. Decided to go visit Jerry later that night.”

  Tony shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “He wasn’t going to back down, though. So you got mad… and you kicked the car with him under it.”

  Tony shakes his head back and forth nervously, quickly. “No, no, no. See, maybe you can prove that I was skimming money off of jobs, but you can’t prove anything about Jerry.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Turns out Jerry’s neighbors have a surveillance system—cameras pointed at their front yard and curb. And those cameras caught your truck passing by right around the same time that the cops estimate Jerry was killed.”

  “They did?” he stammers.

  I nod. “Yup.” Okay, I should point out here that there are no surveillance cameras. That’s me trying to get him to open up. But he doesn’t know that. “And then Garrett was accused instead. See, you pretended to be interested in finding Jerry’s killer, but really you were just trying to see if anyone would figure you out. And the only reason you’re not in North Dakota, herding goats, is because you still had your opportunity to run your own shop.”

  Tony turns white as a sheet. “Who else knows about that? The cameras?”

  “Only me.”

  “Okay. Okay, I can fix this. What do you want? You want money? I’ve got money. Let’s say ten grand. I can get a loan for the difference. That’s just for starters. Once I have the shop up and running, I’ll give you ten percent if you never say a word. That could be a lot of money over your lifetime.”

  “I don’t want your money, Tony.” I’m surprised at how calm my voice sounds, because my heart is jackhammering in my chest. “I just want to know what happened to Jerry.”

  “It was an accident!” he hisses. “I kicked the car out of frustration, okay? It wasn’t supposed to be that hard. It fell. I… I…” He takes a deep breath, on the verge of a panic attack. “Just take my deal, Will. Just take it!”

  “I’m sorry, Tony. I can’t.”

  From out of the back office, Mr. Casey hobbles out, his eyes brimming with tears. “Oh, Tony. How could you?”

  Behind him, Karen comes out, followed by Chief Mayhew. Once Karen had discovered the discrepancy in the books, she shared her theory with me—the same one with which I just cornered Tony. We checked out a few other customers of his and then called Patty right away.

  Tony glances from one person to the next, his eyes finally drifting to the floor. His shoulders sag and he holds up his wrists, defeated.

  CHAPTER 16

  * * *

  Back at the Pet Shop Stop, Sarah looks from me to Karen and then back to me. “So when you really think about it,” she says, “you didn’t really solve this one, Will. Karen did.”

  “Well… I guess so,” I admit.

  “I would call it more of a joint effort,” Karen says with a smile. “I wouldn’t have even been involved without you, so let’s share in the glory.”

  “Sure.” I clear my throat. “Uh, and while I have you both here… I should apologize. I wasn’t at all fair about the two of you having a relationship. It’s not my place to tell either of you who you can be friends with, and if that’s each other, then… I will be happy with that. Besides… it does seem like you’ve changed a lot,” I tell Karen.

  “Why thank you, Will,” she says. “That’s very mature of you—which means I guess you’ve changed a lot, too.”

  She grins. I roll my eyes.

  “Well then,” Sarah says, “how about to celebrate both a job well done and a new friendship, the three of us head down to the Runside and get some drinks?”

  “Only if Will’s buying,” Karen says.

  “Sure, why not.” I can’t help but grin. A lot can change in a short time, but obviously some things never will. “It’s the least I can do for you carting me around all day.”

  “Speaking of, what are you going to do about your car now?” Sarah asks.

  “Yeah,” Karen adds, “you only knew two mechanics, and one sort of murdered the other.”<
br />
  “Actually, Mr. Casey said he was going to take care of it for me, free of charge, for helping him realize what a terrible mistake he was about to make.”

  “What?” Karen protests. “I did most of the work. What do I get out of it?”

  “A swell of pride from knowing you did the right thing?” I suggest.

  “And at least two martinis,” she mutters. “I’ll meet you two down at the Runside.” She heads out the door, leaving Sarah and I to close up shop for the evening.

  Once Karen is gone, Sarah says quietly, “I guess there’s still that other thing though, huh?”

  I nod. “Yes, there is still one other thing.” I know without asking that she’s referring to Sammy, and whatever reason he had for thinking that he could be a target.

  I take Sarah’s hand and look her right in the eye as I tell her, “Listen, I don’t want to lie to you—ever. But we might have to agree that sometimes, there are things that I won’t tell you. It might be for your own good, or it might be to protect a friend. You know that in my book, omitting is the same as lying, but… sometimes I might have to omit.”

  “I understand,” she replies. “And sometimes I might be okay with you omitting those things, because it might alter my opinion of someone whose friendship I value.”

  “Thank you for understanding. Now I have to take a little walk—I’ll be back in a few.”

  She nods as I head toward the door. I pause. “Just to be clear, we were just talking about me not telling you whatever reason Sammy had for thinking that he might be a target for murder and you being okay with it, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Great. Okay, be right back.”

  ***

  The barber shop is closed by the time I get down there, but the lights are still on and through the window I can see Sammy sitting in his chair, waiting. I knock on the glass and he waves me inside.

  “Lock the door,” he tells me as I step in. I do so, and then I stand there awkwardly for a moment, considering how to start.

  “You’ve always been the most honest guy I know,” I say eventually. “You’ll tell me when I need a haircut. You tell me when I’m being difficult or unfair. You’re pretty much that way with everyone. It’s one of the things we all like about you.”

  He nods slowly.

  “You’re also my best friend. I care about you and your wellbeing. When you said you thought you were a target, I did what I could.”

  “And I appreciate that.”

  “But it didn’t turn out to be the way you thought it was. This was one of those cases when a simple solution was the right solution, and along the way I found out a few things that I kind of wish I hadn’t. I can’t just forget what I’ve heard, and I can’t just keep it all in my head. So I’m going to talk, and you’ll listen, and I don’t want you to say anything. Okay?”

  He nods again.

  “Alright.” I take a deep breath. “I think that while being racquetball buddies, you and Jerry discovered some kind of dirt on Tom Savage. Maybe he was embezzling money, or doing some kind of under-the-table deals. Maybe he’s selling lemons. I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. But I think that instead of going to the authorities… the two of you blackmailed him. But not for personal gain; I think his downtown revitalization project was actually your idea. And it’s a good idea. Businesses would do better, tourism would increase, and even though Savage could continue doing whatever it is he’s doing, you would now have a town councilman in your pocket.”

  Sammy says nothing; he just stares at me stoically from his barber’s chair, one hand resting on his chin.

  “I think that when Jerry got killed, it freaked you out enough to ask for my help—but not enough to say anything that would incriminate you, even to me. All you did was guide me in the right direction, which was smart, because it turns out that Savage didn’t have anything to do with Jerry, and I still don’t know exactly what’s going on. There’s only one problem, and it’s that Savage now thinks I’m a part of this. So I want to make it perfectly clear that I am not getting involved in any of this. I don’t actually know anything, so I’m not going to go to Patty or tell anyone. But I don’t want to know what’s happening. I don’t want to know about any demands that may or may not be placed on anyone else. I don’t want to be involved. Period.”

  There’s a long moment of silence, and then Sammy simply says, “Okay.”

  “Okay. Then… I guess I’ll see you around.” I turn to leave, but then I pause and face him again. “Look, I know you don’t need a lecture from me, but blackmail is illegal, regardless of whom or what it might benefit. I know you well enough to know that you probably think you’re doing the right thing, but part of you also knows it’s wrong. And this whole ordeal should be a wake-up call for you. Maybe it’s time to just put a stop to it.”

  Again Sammy just regards me evenly, not showing any sign of denial or confirmation. “Okay.”

  I head for the door once more, but behind me, Sammy speaks up.

  “Will? They’re right about you—Patty and Sarah and Karen. You would make a terrific investigator.”

  “Thanks, Sam. I’ll see you later.”

  CHAPTER 17

  * * *

  I get back to the Pet Shop Stop and help Sarah with the closing duties. She can tell that I’m deep in thought, and I can tell that she really wants to ask about it, but neither of us says a word. Finally, when we’re finished, I ask if she’s ready to head down to the Runside.

  “Sure. I think we could use a good drink after all this.” She offers me a smile and a hug.

  “You said it. Come on, Rowdy.” Normally when I say that, I hear the telltale jingling of the tags on his collar as he jumps up from his bed and heads for the door, but this evening there’s nothing. “Rowdy? Come on, boy.”

  I peer around the counter, behind which we keep his dog bed when he’s hanging out with us in the shop. He lies on his side, curled up like a shrimp, and against his belly is Basket, the shop-cat.

  “That is the most precious thing I have ever seen,” Sarah says. “He loves Basket.”

  “That would be great, except that we’re not keeping Basket,” I remind her. “Come on, Rowdy. Kitty’s going in a cage for the night.” I reach down for the little gray cat, who looks up at me with his enormous blue eyes, and Rowdy… he growls at me.

  Okay, maybe not so much a growl as a grunt of disapproval, but still enough to give me pause.

  “Hey now,” I scold. “None of that. We’re not keeping the cat, Rowdy.” I reach for the cat again, and Rowdy tightens his body against Basket. Then he licks my hand gingerly and stares up at me with his biggest, brownest puppy-dog eyes.

  He whines a little. Basket yawns and punctuates it with a tiny squeak.

  “Oh, come on, that’s not fair.”

  “Will, I think Rowdy has adopted Basket,” Sarah says beside me.

  I sigh. “Fine. If you want to stay here with the kitten, then we’ll go to the Runside without you.”

  Rowdy doesn’t move. He just watches us, curled up against his tiny kitten friend.

  Sarah puts her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s just go, and we’ll deal with this in the morning.” I smile at her and shake my head; while I appreciate the sentiment, we both know that come morning, it’ll be Rowdy and her against me… unless I change sides.

  “I guess this will be the story we tell people about how we got a shop-cat,” I mutter in surrender. “Alright, let’s go.”

  I open the door and head outside and very nearly trip over a box just outside our door. “Oomph!” I cry out, staggering. “Jeez, what is with people leaving stuff outside our door?” I inspect the package. It’s not a box, but rather a rectangular shape covered in a small brown blanket.

  “What is it?” Sarah asks.

  “I don’t know. It looks like it could be a—ohmygod!” I pull off the blanket and then backpedal several feet, accidentally shoving Sara
h aside in my effort to get back into the safety of the shop.

  “Sheesh, Will, relax. It’s just a snake.” Sarah bends to inspect the olive-colored serpent inside the glass habitat.

  It’s not just any snake. It’s the tiger rattlesnake from Tom Savage’s office.

  “We can’t just leave it out in the cold. Let’s bring it inside,” she says.

  “I’m not touching that thing, and it is not coming into my shop.”

  “Will… are you afraid of snakes?” A playful smile lights on her face, though I’m having trouble finding anything funny about the situation. I never told Sarah that I had a phobia about snakes—mostly because she never asked, but partially because even I have to admit that it’s kind of weird for a pet shop owner to be afraid of something that most people consider a pet.

  But let’s be real here. Anyone who would willingly own one of those things is insane.

  “Yes. I am afraid of snakes. I don’t want it anywhere near—what are you doing?” I practically screech as Sarah lifts the glass cage and brings it inside.

  “What would you rather me do? Leave it out there? Kill it? No way.” She sets it down on the counter and peers inside. “It’s kind of cool-looking.”

  “It is not cool. It is dangerous.”

  “Hey, there’s a note taped to the top.” She tears it off and opens it. “It says, ‘Dear Will, consider this a small token of our newfound partnership. I hope that you will appreciate her as much as I did. She’s still not eating properly, but I’m sure you can figure out why. Best regards, Tom Savage. P.S., her name is Petunia.’” Sarah glances up at me. “Newfound partnership? Is this one of those things we talked about earlier that I shouldn’t ask about?”

  “It most definitely is.”

  “I’m guessing he doesn’t know you don’t like snakes.”

  “That would be a good guess.”

  “Alright,” Sarah shrugs. “Well, we’ll leave her here tonight, and—”