She tapped her fingernails on the countertop. “I could help you. So could mom. It could be a Cripps business venture.”
“How would you have time for that with your job? You work like eighty hours a week as it is.”
“It’s just me at my place, Cam. I have all the time in the world.”
“I have the time, too, that’s for sure,” I said, considering her points. “It would be fun doing something like this with you and Mom, if she’s interested. I don’t think it would bring in enough money to pay for a lawyer or more paint, at least not at first, but I could probably get a job somewhere in the meantime.”
Thinking about it more, it didn’t sound like that much of a risk if we kept it small at first. Maybe Betty would let us set up a little table in Grandma’s Cookie Cutter. We could put together an inexpensive website, and the Metamora Action Agency could make some calls to dog boutiques while they manned the tip line. I could pay them on commission, 10 percent of every treat they sold.
It could work. The new Cameron Cripps-Hayman could be a Meta-mora business owner.
“I hear you had an interesting weekend, Cameron Cripps-Hayman,” Roy said, standing in my kitchen the next morning drinking coffee. “What with the fistfight at the calling hours and performing a striptease at the Civil War dinner.”
“There was no fistfight or striptease, Roy. Those are exaggerations.”
“It was more like a catfight,” Johnna said from her spot at the kitchen table where she was knitting, as usual. “The claws came out.”
“Sue’s claws,” I said. “Not mine.”
I checked my cell phone for a text or email from Nick, who hadn’t shown up on the train. There was no word from him.
“The phone lines have all been switched over,” Anna said, hanging up my landline phone. “They all route through your home phone number. Guess we should switch the posters again so we have the right number.”
“That’s a good idea,” I said, “but first let me fill you in on a new lead I got over the weekend.”
I told the four of them about Zach and Lianne in the car. “Do any of you have information about the two of them?” I asked when I was done with my story. “Are they dating? Friends? Co-conspirators of some kind?”
Johnna’s knitting needles stilled. “You know, Lianne and Jenn weren’t close. They were when they were younger, but they started growing apart in high school. Lianne was a wild child, always giving Sue grief.” She tutted. “I did hear that recently she’s been trying to turn herself around. Make something of herself. Don’t sound like she’s making a good job of it if she’s hanging out with the likes of Zach Johnson.”
“Eh, he’s not so bad,” Roy said. “Pours a nice healthy shot of whisky, he does.”
“Well, he couldn’t possibly be part of a murder then,” Anna said, flipping her hair over one shoulder.
“Hey now, girlie,” Roy said, shaking his finger at her, “don’t discount the merits of a man who’s honest with the bottle.”
Logan had his laptop on the table, and his fingers typed away.
“What are you doing, Logan?” I asked.
“I’m inputting all of our suspects and evidence into a database so I can create a graphical chart and map the progression of each lead.”
“Oh,” I said, not exactly following. I wasn’t technologically unsavvy, but I couldn’t conjure a visual of what he meant. “Can’t wait to see it.”
“We don’t need no computer network to tell us who killed that girl,” Roy said. “We only need what the good Lord gave us up here.” He poked the side of his head.
“This takes all the bias out of the equation,” Logan said. “We’re humans. Humans have emotions and opinions about other humans based on past experiences. This program only considers what’s logical.”
“A lot of great detectives relied on their gut instincts,” Roy said. “Sherlock, Monk, Columbo.”
“Don’t forget Magnum,” Johnna said with a sigh. “Tom Selleck could really pull off facial hair.”
Anna sat forward in her chair. “Jessica Fletcher and Miss Marple represent great female detectives. We can’t forget them.”
“The program doesn’t take sexism into account either,” Logan said. “One more way it’s superior to human thinking.”
“Now, I won’t sit here and be subjected to dirty talk, young man.” Johnna waved a knitting needle at Logan.
“Okay,” I said, stepping firmly into the generation gap before they bridged it themselves, and I ended up prying Johnna’s needle from up Logan’s nose. “We have a lot to go on. I’m headed to Ivy Tech tonight to sit in on Zach’s class and try to find the girl he stayed with the night Jenn Berg was murdered. If I can figure out who she is, I can talk to her—see if she’s lying about him spending the night.”
“You think the sheriff didn’t do his job, Cameron Cripps-Hay-
man?” Roy slurped another sip of coffee, eyeing me over the mouth of his mug.
“I think Sheriff Reins is following all of the leads he gets,” I said, avoiding a line of questioning that would lead to me admitting my lack of confidence in our sheriff.
“Cameron needs the class anyway,” Monica said, breezing into the kitchen. “She’s starting a business.”
“You are?” Anna said, sounding way more excited about this prospect that I was. “What kind of business?”
“Specialty dog treats,” Monica said.
“Just what this town needs.” Roy shook his head. “At least it’s not another antique shop.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Johnna asked. “Friday was the first time you ever baked something that you didn’t turn to coal, remember?”
“That’s a good point,” I said, twisting my lips. “It’s not definite. Monica and I were talking last night about it, but the idea needs a lot more thought first.”
“Sounds like it needs a lot more practice,” Roy said. “That reminds me, Nick and me finished the dog bone–shaped cutter. It’s out in the shed. I’ll go fetch it.”
“You’re going to need a vendor’s license,” Logan said. “And you’ll want insurance. Maybe set up an LLC.”
I held up a hand. “I think that’s putting the cart before—”
“Packaging is going to be a huge sales point,” Anna said. “What’s on the outside is as important as what’s on the inside.”
“You’re exactly right,” Monica said, sitting down beside Anna. “Branding is ninety percent of making a business successful.”
I slumped down next to Johnna and let go of my attempts to stop their brainstorming session. Logan was already talking about website hosting and setting up a distribution hub in my attic.
“Sounds like they’ve got this all figured out,” Johnna said, looping yarn around her needle. “It’s not a bad idea, and it’s not like dogs are picky—most of ’em anyway. You don’t need to be a Paris-trained chef to make dog treats, and there aren’t many ingredients involved. Betty’s got that big oven over there. I bet she’d let you bake up a few good-sized batches if you asked.”
“Oh, look at this one!” Monica said, pointing on her tablet screen to a pink-and-white striped paper bag with a clear window on one side. “They’d look so cute packaged in these.”
“No pink,” I said, but nobody was listening. The business we may or may not be starting was already out of my control. My crew really did put the first A in Action Agency. They got a whiff of an idea and latched on to it for all they were worth.
Now if we could only find our killer.
• Seventeen •
I hadn’t been to a college class in about fifteen years. Monday night I parked Monica’s car in one of the student lots and hiked across campus to the business administration class Zach was in. I was one of the first people to arrive and sat off to the side in the back of the room where I could observe and, hopefully, not be notic
ed. The room was smaller than I expected. This wouldn’t be a lecture to a hundred students. The room might hold about forty, which would make it easier to figure out which girl he went home with a week ago.
I opened my handbag and took out a notebook. Somewhere in the bottom, about a dozen pens were rolling around, but I’d be darned if I could find one. I took a mental inventory of every item I touched: travel-sized tooth paste, a hair clip, a baggie of Cheez-Its, a long screw I found on the road and picked up so it didn’t puncture anyone’s tire. Aha! A pen.
The professor whisked in and plopped his briefcase on the desk up front. Zach strolled in not long after and took a seat in the middle of the room with an empty chair on either side of him. Surely, if he’d stayed overnight with one of the women in this class, he’d sit with them. Unless I was giving him too much credit for being a decent person. I was suspecting him of murder, after all.
The professor looked up at the clock and cleared his throat. “Good evening, class. I hope you’re all ready to have a lively discussion on quantitative methods for decision making.”
Class was started. She had to be in this room. Unless she didn’t come tonight.
“But first,” the professor said, “let’s make sure we’re all here.”
I scanned the room as he began going through last names. “Anderson?”
There was a cute, petite brunette sitting diagonally to Zach’s left, but she hadn’t turned around and he didn’t seem to be paying her much notice.
“Baker?”
There was a rustling behind me, but I had my eyes on a redhead up front, with long legs and willowy arms.
“Berg?”
My ears perked up. The rustling in the back came nearer as someone rushed down the aisle beside me.
“I’m here!”
Lianne Berg shot into the chair beside Zach with a smile and an armful of loose papers and notebooks. “Sorry. My bag broke in the parking lot.”
The professor moved on with attendance as I scooped my jaw up off the floor. Lianne Berg was the girl Zach was with the night Jenn Berg was killed.
After class, which was enlightening from the parts I heard—when my concentration wasn’t scattered on thoughts of Zach and Lianne’s motives—I introduced myself to Professor Hudgeons.
“Thank you so much for letting me sit in on your class tonight.”
“I hope you enjoyed yourself and join us on a permanent basis.”
“I think I might,” I said, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on Zach and Lianne until the killer was found.
“Wonderful. We sometimes go to a local pub after class and continue our discussions. You’re welcome to join us tonight.”
“Maybe I will,” I said. “That would be interesting.”
He gave me directions, and I set off to the parking lot. Driving to the pub, it struck me that signing up for a college class was adding another debt that Ben and I couldn’t afford. I’d have to find a stream of income fast.
Hudgeons was getting out of his car when I parked at the pub, so we walked in together. “You’re starting a business?” he asked. Zach must have told him.
“Yes,” I said. “A line of specialty products for dogs, starting with treats.”
“My mother used to make our dogs sweet potato chips, God rest her soul. We had a pair of Blue Weimaraners. Betsy and Duke. Best behaved dogs you can imagine.”
“I’d love the recipe,” I said. “My monster dogs will eat anything, but if they’ve been taste tested by two well-trained dogs, they must be good.”
He took my cell phone number and agreed to text me the recipe.
A group of eight students, including Zach and Lianne, sat at a long table against the wall. A pitcher of beer was already being poured into frosty mugs. Zach took notice of me for the first time that night. “Cameron, right? How’d you like the class?” He sat a full mug in front of me.
“I think I’ll benefit from it a lot,” I said. “Thanks again for asking if I could sit in tonight.”
“No problem.”
Lianne wore a poker face. In a million years, I couldn’t guess what she was thinking as she stared at me from across the table. Finally, she spoke. “How’d you like the Daughters meeting? Irene takes it so seriously. It’s a joke.”
“I wish it were a joke. I can’t afford to repaint my house, but I don’t want to be fined, either.”
“So don’t pay. It’s not like she can send you to a collections agency and ruin your credit.”
I’d never thought of it that way. I guess because she was my mother-in-law, and the other women in the club were influential in town, I didn’t want to cross them. “Seems like they could make life miserable if I don’t do what they want.”
“Not if you ignore them.”
I wanted to tell her I was sorry for the loss of her sister, that I was sorry for what happened at calling hours between her mom and I, but I couldn’t get the words out while sitting at a table of strangers. It didn’t seem like the right time or place.
I took tiny sips of beer, not wanting to drink and drive home but wanting to appear as though I was joining in on their fun. At the end of the table, Professor Hudgeons was leading a riotous debate about something. I didn’t catch what the topic was. I watched Zach and Lianne interact as inconspicuously as possible.
Every now and then, while they were talking, she’d touch his arm, or he’d turn his body in his chair and brush against her. They were certainly friendly, but it was a leap to say with any authority that they were more than that. And if they were, what did that mean?
All I knew for certain was, A) Lianne was driving her sister’s car, and 2) Zach and Lianne were friends. So far, that didn’t lead me anywhere other than suspecting Lianne was who Zach was with the night Jenn was murdered. Would Lianne lie for him? Would the two of them be in on it together?
“Do you guys always drive home after coming here?” I asked, digging.
“It’s only about twenty minutes from my apartment,” Lianne said. “Sometimes I let Zach drink more and I drive and sometimes he drives. He usually stays at my place when we meet up like this after class.”
Bingo! “Oh. It must be convenient to live close. I didn’t know you two were together.”
Zach was embroiled in the conversation at the end of the table when Lianne glanced his direction before replying. “We’ve been off and on for years. I’m sure you know he was with my sister for a while, but he and I go back further than they did. We’ve just never been able to get it together and make it last.”
“Oh.” I took a sip of beer, swallowing all of this information down. “That’s got to be difficult. Having a sister dating someone you care about.”
“It was,” she said. “I mean, I was fine with it.” She ran her fingers down her neck, clamming up, perhaps suspecting she’d said too much.
“Well, anyway, I’m very sorry for the loss of your sister.”
“Thank you.” She picked up her beer mug and took a few big gulps.
“I feel terrible for forgetting to send flowers. The week was crazy, and I forgot. There’s no excuse for it.”
She gave me a faint smile. “Flowers don’t change anything, anyway.”
“I guess not.” Sue would still think I was to blame for her daughter’s death no matter how many bouquets I sent, and there wasn’t a flower on earth that could bring Jenn Berg back.
Being that it was a Monday night and most of the students in Professor Hudgeons’s class had day jobs, nobody stuck around too much longer. I made a show of taking my time and visiting the ladies’ room before leaving, so I could follow Zach and Lianne out.
From the back corner of the pub, I watched them. Zach stumbled a little, then laughed and gestured to his shoes. They looked new, so maybe he wasn’t stumbling around from drinking, but from his stiff soles. Lianne tucked her arm thro
ugh his and rested her head on his shoulder, and they pushed through the door.
I hurried through the bar, darting in and out of tables and chairs, my handbag banging off the backs of people sitting in them. “Sorry,” I said. “Pardon me.” My knee still gripped with a spasm of pain if I put too much pressure on it or bent it too fast, but I was determined to get out to the parking lot before they pulled away.
Pushing through the door into the dark night, I scanned the row of parked cars under the dim light on the corner of the bar. Nobody was around. Everyone had already left.
I shook it off. It wasn’t like I’d overhear Zach’s confession, and after spending time with them, I wasn’t convinced that they had anything to do with Jenn’s murder anyway.
• Eighteen •
By noon the next day my kitchen was cluttered with people, dogs, baking ingredients, and the mingled scents of various dog treats being tested. To my horror, Roy came prepared with his own apron sporting the saying Keep Your Hands Off My Buns.
“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” I shouted over the sound of barking and Roy and Johnna arguing about how much carrot shavings to add to their dough.
“The sweetie chips are a winner,” Monica said, watching Isobel chomp a handful of baked sweet potato slices. Professor Hudgeons had texted me the recipe like he promised, and I’d handed it over to Monica.
Nick had bailed on his volunteer hours for the second day in a row, and I was beginning to suspect he’d found somewhere else to complete them since I’d pretty much accused him of murder. Or maybe he was guilty and playing it smart by not coming back.
Zach and Lianne weren’t off my radar yet, but Nick’s friend Cory Bantum was taking a prominent spot in my mind. I had to make my way out to the kennel in Connersville today to pay him a visit. Maybe if I solved Jenn Berg’s murder, my mother-in-law would drop her lawsuit and let me keep my house painted the colors I wanted.
Who was I kidding? She’d probably fine me for doing police work without a badge.
Anna and Logan sat at the table working on a website. The two of them, along with Roy, Johnna, and Monica, had taken the liberty of naming the business Dog Diggity. It was cute, I’d give them that, but I was still on the fence about the whole idea of a dog treat business.
Deadly Dog Days Page 14
