Deadly Dog Days

by Jamie M. Blair

  That settled it. “I’d like that,” I said, only feeling slightly sick at the idea of going on a date with a man who was old enough to be my father and had droopy jowls and watery eyes.

  “Great!” Roger said, unclasping and clasping his hands again. “I’ll pick you up at Ellsworth House at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’ll be ready,” I said, resisting the urge to run. It still hadn’t rained, so my knee wouldn’t make it very far anyway. I’d end up sitting on the ground stewing in my own embarrassment.

  “See you then,” he said, giving me another big smile before turning to the train. “Oh,” he said, looking back. “It’s a Civil War–era dinner, so dress appropriately.”

  My brain froze. Civil War era? Dress appropriately? Like petticoat and corset? Good gravy. What did I get myself into now?

  Mia was late getting home. It was eight o’clock, well past dinnertime, and she wasn’t answering her cell phone. “I should call Ben,” I said, popping a chocolate chip cookie in my mouth and tossing Gus a homemade dog biscuit. The dogs loved them. It was my one success for the day.

  “She’ll show up,” Monica said, tapping away at her laptop.

  “I thought you took time off. Why are you working?” Monica worked for our mom, coordinating marketing plans for Mom’s public relations clients. They used to pass along some of their telephone marketing to the company I worked for. The Cripps women were quite the power trio.

  “I’m not working. I’m answering your emails. You have twelve interview requests in here.”

  “I’m not—how’d you get—I’m not going on interviews!” I rushed over to the kitchen table and slammed her laptop closed. “Don’t try to run my life, Monica. I’m doing just fine on my own.”

  “Is that why you’re being questioned by the police, dating a geriatric train conductor, adopting untrained mongrels, and pretending to be Jessica Fletcher? Your life is out of control, Cameron.”

  “It’s not your job to fix it!” I banged my hand on the table, making Isobel bark and growl from beside the fridge. I sank down into a chair and put my head in my hands. “Listen, I know you’re trying to help, and I admit, my life is nuts right now, but I need to handle things my way. If I need your help, I’ll ask. Okay?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. “Do you promise?”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  She held up her hands and scooted back from her laptop. “Fine. Done.”

  “Thank you.” I sat back and laughed, immediately thinking of something she could do for me.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I do need your help with something. I need a Civil War–era evening dress for tomorrow.”

  “For the calling hours?” She cocked an eyebrow, looking at me like my sanity had cracked.

  “No. For my date with the geriatric train conductor after the calling hours. He’s taking me to a Civil War dinner.”

  She blinked a few times hard, exaggerating. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “I wish I were.”

  “And where am I supposed to find that?”

  “Maybe start next door at Schoolhouse Antiques. I doubt Will will have a dress, but he’ll probably know where you can get one.”

  “Well, I better start searching now if you need it tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’ll call around while you’re next door. Somebody in this town will have a Civil War dress. Trust me.”

  I got on my phone while Monica went to talk to Will. It was a delicate situation, planning a date on the same day as Jenn Berg’s calling hours and having to ask everyone in town if they had a dress and petticoats I could borrow. I figured I’d start with Judy Platt, Cass’s mom, who owned the Briar Bird Inn where the dinner was being held.

  “I’m sorry, Cam,” Judy said, “I have no clue where you could find a dress. Most people get their Civil War clothes from collectors’ shows, I believe.”

  “Would it be terrible if I just wore a regular dress?”

  “No, of course not. Especially when you were invited last minute. Men.”

  I hung up feeling a little bit better. I’d wear something long, at least, and put my hair up to try to blend in if Monica had no luck.

  Mia came bursting through the door, chattering on her phone a mile a minute and bounded up the stairs. I knew I should go after her and rein her in with some form of discipline, but I had no idea what I could do to her, and I didn’t have the strength left to do it anyway. I was sticking with my motto: she was fed, sheltered, and alive, so I had done my job. If Ben wanted a stepmother and not just a babysitter, he should’ve thought of that before our marriage went off the rails.

  I chomped down one last cookie before putting them away and heading upstairs to read in bed. Tomorrow would be another fun-filled day starting with Jenn Berg’s calling hours and ending with my date circa 1861.

  • Twelve •

  The funeral home was jam packed, wall-to-wall for Jenn Berg’s mid-morning calling hours. Mia spotted her dad standing near the front of the room wearing a well-fitted black suit (I could never get him to wear a suit) and made a beeline for him. Her grandpa intercepted her and gave her a big hug.

  If Stewart Hayman was around, Irene would be lurking nearby. Knowing I’d be out of the house for an hour or so, she probably took the opportunity to send her workers over to unhinge and confiscate my front door.

  I got in line to pay my respects. Sue Nelson stood beside the coffin with her other daughters, Lianne, and Mia’s friend, Stephanie. Andrew Berg, Sue’s ex-husband, stood on the opposite side of the coffin.

  Unable to stand still, Elaina Nelson, hair bright red as ever, dressed in black and white polka dots and black patent leather shoes, paced around all of them accepted hugs and condolences, but by the way she smiled and laughed, it was pretty clear she had very little recollection of why she was even standing there. I guessed that happened when you were over ninety years old. Of course, she would tell you she was only twenty-three, being born on February twenty-ninth of a leap year. Technically, it was true, but she was the only senile twenty-three-year-old member of AARP I’d ever met.

  “Quite the crowd,” Brenda said, easing in behind me.

  “You’re cutting in line,” I whispered.

  “I don’t think anyone’s going to make a fuss about not getting to the casket sooner,” she said. “I hear you’re in need of a Civil War dress.”

  “News gets around fast,” I said, taking a few steps forward, following the person in front of me.

  “When were you going to tell me about your hot date?”

  I gave her a Mia-style eye roll. “As soon as I get a hot date.”

  She chuckled under her breath. “No, I don’t suppose Roger Tillerman and a reenactment dinner can be categorized as hot. Why did you agree to go out with him? Are you attracted to him?”

  “Are you kidding? I mean, he’s a very nice man, but he’s got to be close to my dad’s age. And I agreed to dinner before he sprung the Civil War deal on me. Then he got on the train and was gone before I could make up an excuse to back out.”

  “But why did you agree to a date in the first place?”

  My eyes found Ben again. Soapy’s wife, Theresa, was giving him a hug. People felt sorry for him because his girlfriend was dead. “I guess because Ben moved on, so I should, too.”

  “Do you really believe that? That he moved on?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe not. He did go out with her a couple times though. How can I decide what I want if I haven’t ventured out on a date, too?”

  “You think you might want Tillerman over Ben?” She chuckled again.

  “Stop laughing. It’s impolite. A woman is dead up there.”

  It took us another fifteen minutes to get to Sue and her girls. Elaina was flitting around the viewing room with a coffee pot refilling pap
er cups and talking everyone’s ears off. “How are you holding up?” I asked Sue.

  Sue pursed her lips and gazed over my head. “As well as expected,” she said.

  I got the feeling she wasn’t just struggling to hold back tears. She was giving me the cold shoulder. “If there’s anything I can do,” I said, “please let me know.”

  “I can’t imagine what you could possibly do.”

  I bowed my head and moved on. There was no saving myself in Sue’s eyes. Maybe someday soon she and I could sit down and talk, but the speculation must have gotten to her. I was a suspect in her eyes.

  I sidestepped in front of the coffin and looked down at the young woman whose death controlled the puppet strings of my life. Sue had her dressed in a white gown—

  Wait a minute. It was a wedding dress. A handmade, old-fashioned wedding dress that I’d seen before in photos of Sue’s wedding to Andrew. Her mother had worn it, too. Now she was burying her daughter in it—in the dress she probably would’ve worn to her own wedding someday.

  To Ben?

  I gave myself a mental smack for that thought. It was difficult to be appropriately sentimental when battling with possessive feelings over my estranged husband.

  Someone gripped my arm and jerked me back. “Don’t look at her!” Sue shouted, pulling me away from the coffin. “You hated her! You don’t care that she’s dead! You were jealous that she was with your husband! You probably killed her!”

  The room quickly became a maelstrom of activity. People rushed around us, trying to guide Sue away, but her fingers were still latched tightly onto my arm. “How dare you show your face here!” she yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You didn’t even send flowers!”

  Oh, good gravy, the flowers.

  “I meant to. I forgot. I’m so sorry.”

  “Let’s go.” Ben had me by the shoulders, walking me backward as Andrew yanked Sue’s hand off me. Her nails caught and left red scratches on my wrist.

  I turned and dashed out of the room, Ben beside me and Brenda on my heels. I could still hear Sue wailing behind us. “I have to get out of here,” I wheezed.

  Ben pushed the exit door open and held it for me, while Brenda grabbed my elbow and shuffled me outside. “I think I’m in shock,” I said. “Everything’s spinning. Did that just really happen?”

  “It did,” Ben said. “Cam, I think—”

  “This is your fault!” I swung my giant handbag around and whacked him in the side. “You couldn’t even wait until we were divorced to find someone else! Then she goes and gets killed and everyone thinks it was me who did it in some jealous rage!”

  He grabbed my bag so I couldn’t hit him again. “I told you, I did not find someone else. We were friends. We went out a few times and talked. About you. You know how people in this town talk. That’s not my fault.”

  “You couldn’t have found someone who wasn’t a twenty-five-year-old female to talk to, Ben? Really?”

  He let go of my bag and backed away, shaking his head and holding his hands up in defeat. “There’s nothing I can say right now to make this better. I’m just going to go before I make it any worse.”

  I felt like I might collapse right there in the parking lot.

  “Let’s get you home,” Brenda said.

  “I can’t leave. Mia’s still inside.”

  “Give me your keys. I’ll go back in and give them to Brenda. You can’t drive in this condition anyway. She can bring your car home.”

  I dug my keys out of my bag and handed them to her. “You know I didn’t have anything to do with Jenn Berg’s death, don’t you?”

  “Would I be driving you home if I thought you did?” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pulled me in for a hug. It felt so nice to have someone on my side, I started to weep. “And anyway,” she said, stepping back and pulling a tissue from her pocket, “if you were capable of murder, you would’ve killed Irene a long time ago.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I said and blew my nose.

  After the disastrous calling hours, it was more important than ever to clear my name. In a few hours, I’d have to go to a dinner at the Briar Bird Inn and have people stare and whisper about me and what happened with Sue Nelson. How much humiliation could a person take in one day?

  “Why are your eyes so puffy?” Monica asked, breezing into my bedroom. “I found you a Civil War dress.” She held up a plastic bag on a hanger and untied the bottom. “Ready?” she asked, and whisked the plastic up over a giant Scarlett O’Hara hoop dress in deep crimson.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “I drove an hour to a costume shop in Cincinnati,” she said, confirming my suspicion.

  “It’s a Halloween costume,” I said, realizing she answered the question I’d asked myself right before she came in: apparently a person could take a boatload of humiliation in one day.

  “It’s the only thing I could find,” she said, tossing it beside me on the bed. “I looked everywhere.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “It’ll work fine.” I had to wear it. She drove an hour to get it for me.

  “How were calling hours?”

  “I can’t even put the experience into words,” I said, covering my eyes with my hands.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse. Worse times a hundred.”

  “Maybe you need to lay low for a while. Call off this date. Take a hot bath, read a book, go to bed early.”

  I groaned and rolled onto my side. “I can’t call off the date. I don’t have his number.”

  “Well, who cares? It’s his job, so he has to be there anyway. It’s not like he has to take a date. When he comes, I’ll tell him you’re in bed sick.” She patted my bum knee. “It’s not a crime to break a date when you don’t feel well, and mentally, you’re not well.”

  “Gee, thanks for the psych evaluation.” I grabbed the pillow and stuffed it over my head. “You’re right. I’m not mentally well at all. I need to be sent away, locked up. Tranquilized.”

  “I don’t think they have asylums anymore. Although they may have them here. This town is stuck somewhere around 1920.”

  “If you find one, admit me.”

  “On my honor,” she said.

  The dress bag rattled and the mattress sunk where she climbed up beside me. “I should’ve been around more the past six months. Here you are stuck in Mayberry with no family other than Ben’s, and I’m pretty sure they don’t count. I should’ve come right away when you told me Ben moved out. I’m sorry I didn’t, Cam.”

  I rolled back over and scooted up to lean against the headboard beside her. “Today is the low point. I was handling it all, taking it in stride, until today. I thought our separation was a hiccup. No big deal. We needed some time apart, but we’d be back together in no time. At first, the days and weeks went by at a snail’s pace. Then, before I knew it—bam! Six months, and I find out he’s been hanging around with a girl almost half my age and the whole town knew about it. “But I didn’t know about it. And now the whole town is pointing an accusing finger at me.”

  Monica brushed a stray hair back from my eyes and took my hand. She didn’t say a word. What was there to say? Nothing would make it better.

  “I’m a victim, too.” It sounded ridiculous to say after attending the calling hours of a woman who fulfilled the very definition of the word victim, but it felt right.

  “The victim of hurt feelings,” Monica confirmed, squeezing my hand. “The victim of a marriage going through a rough spot. The victim of a gossipy town. And every day, you do your part. Play your role. I couldn’t believe you were doing so well when I got here. I’d be hiding under my bed with a bag of Doritos and a bottle of wine if I were in your shoes.”

  “Don’t look under the bed.”

  She bent sideways and hung over the side of the bed. “More cookies, Cam?
”

  “Don’t touch. Those are my emergency stash.”

  “You’re like a chipmunk stocking up for winter.”

  “Don’t mock me. Cookies are the only source of happiness I have left.” I tugged her back up, and we sat side-by-side.

  “You’re so dramatic,” she said.

  “Then the Scarlett O’Hara costume is appropriate.”

  “If only we were from the south.”

  “If we lived in the south, I’d have to wear a bathing suit a lot more often. And eat fewer cookies. And the south has big bugs and snakes.”

  “You’re right. This place is much better.”

  I snuggled down a little lower and rested my head on her shoulder. “I don’t think I’m ready for Ben to move back home. I want him to. I want it to work out. I want to stay together, but I can’t do it yet. I can’t get over the fact that he went out with someone else.”

  “He should understand that. Maybe after he hears about your date tonight, he’ll understand a lot better.”

  “I’m sure Roger Tillerman will make him jealous.” I laughed. “He’s such an Adonis.”

  “He’s another man. That’s all it takes. Don’t discount it.”

  “I feel bad about leaving you when you’re here visiting. I should’ve never accepted tonight.”

  “Are you planning a late night?” She gave me a wink and a sly smile.

  “Hardly. Anyway, Mia should be rolling in any minute. She was bringing my car back from the calling hours. Since she’s been gone so long, I’m guessing she went to Sue’s with Stephanie, or she’s with Ben or her grandparents. I’ll make dinner before I go. She’ll probably spend the whole night in her room on her phone.”

  “Please, don’t cook. We’ll manage.”

  “It’s no trouble,” I said, easing my bad knee off the bed to stand.

  “It’s not about trouble, Cam. Let’s not pretend you can cook.”

  I whipped my dress bag off the bed and swung it over my shoulder. “Frankly, my dear sister, I don’t give a damn.”

  Gus barked in agreement, bounded on the bed and began licking Monica relentlessly. “Stop!” she yelled. “Down!”