Deadly Dog Days

by Jamie M. Blair

  “I’ll pick up Cass,” Andy said, “and we’ll see what we can dig up.”

  “Good luck,” I said. “And thank you.”

  Anna and Logan went to talk to their principal, Mr. Stein. Principals always know things. I hoped he wouldn’t get mad at them for showing up at his house during summer break.

  When they were all gone, I turned to Monica. “I can’t believe this is happening. Ben’s a police officer. One of the good guys. How can he be in jail?”

  “Don’t fall apart on me now.” Monica shoved me down into a chair. “Your job is going to be going back over everything you know and writing it down. Then we’re going to see if we can find any connections that we missed.”

  I grabbed Johnna’s pen and one of the phone records with past visitors’ names on it and flipped it over to the blank side. Then I started from the bitter beginning, with a sandwich and a duck.

  Cass came back to the house with Andy at five o’clock, joining the rest of the Action Agency in the kitchen. “I’m so sorry,” she said, hugging me. “Ben’s innocent. They can’t keep him in jail.”

  “Unfortunately,” Andy said, “we didn’t find much to prove it.”

  “Finch confirmed that Stoddard fella was the one at the gate the night Jenn died,” Roy said, pointing to the corresponding bullet point on my list. “Said Stoddard mentioned seeing two other fellas with a pup.”

  “That confirms what Nick told me.” I drummed my pen on the paper.

  “Mr. Stein wouldn’t talk to Logan and me about the murder,” Anna said. “He thinks it’s too vulgar for people our age to think about.” She rolled her eyes, making me realize for the first time that even mature teenage girls weren’t immune to eye rolls.

  “He did suggest we keep our distance from you, though,” Logan said without apology. Anna smacked him in the arm. “What?” he said, looking confused. My all-logic no-emotion robo-boy.

  “All Elaina kept chirping about was Lianne driving that little red car of Jenn’s,” Johnna said. “I couldn’t get anything else out of her.”

  “Wait.” I ran down my list. “There’s something … I don’t … ”

  “Well, I think—”

  “Shh!” I said. “It’s coming to me. Just give me a minute.” I stopped and ran my finger under the phrase no forced entry on my list. “That’s it.”

  “What’s it?” Monica looked over my shoulder to see what I was pointing to.

  “Lianne has Jenn’s keys! The gatehouse showed no sign of forced entry.” I set the paper on the table and looked at the faces around me. “Lianne broke into the gatehouse.”

  “What?” Johnna said. “No.”

  “Why would she do that, Cameron Cripps-Hayman?”

  Mia appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. I expected her to launch an irate protest against my accusations of her friend’s sister. Instead, she took a few steps father into the room and crossed her arms, waiting for me to continue.

  “What about the shoes?” Anna asked.

  It all rushed back. The night at the bar. Watching Lianne and Zach leave. Zach stumbling. “He had new shoes,” I said. “Zach had new shoes on a few days after the murder. Where were his old shoes? They planted them in Ben’s closet!”

  Mia took another step forward and picked up my list of clues. “Nice theory, Sherlock,” she said, “but there’s one problem.” She tossed the list back on the table. “Jenn was always locking her keys in her car, so she gave Lianne the spare. The car key is the only one Lianne has.”

  “What about Zach’s shoes?” Monica asked.

  “If owning more than one pair of shoes makes a person a murderer,” Mia said, “then you better put me on your list.”

  “Maybe Zach has a spare key to the gatehouse?” I said. “If she was always locking herself out of her car and gave a second key to Lianne, why not give Zach one to the gatehouse when they were dating?”

  Logan shook his head. “We have nothing to support that. The evidence points to Nick. It’s the most logical conclusion. He and Cory Bantum were seen fleeing the area. Then Cory ends up dead, and Nick disappears. Nick has a record of assault. The obvious solution is that Cory was threatening to come forward and Nick silenced him. He’s most likely on his way to Indianapolis to make sure Mr. Stoddard doesn’t talk, either.”

  Oh God, I didn’t want to believe that, but it made a lot of sense. “Someone should warn Stoddard.” I turned to Andy. “Do you have his number?”

  He nodded. “I’ll call him. He’ll be in town this evening. As long as he’s locked up with Finch in Hilltop castle, he’ll be fine.”

  “Right.” I paced to the patio doors and looked out at the dogs romping around. Isobel stood guard over Liam, having designating herself as the puppy protector when Mia wasn’t around. Anytime Gus and the dingbats got too close, she bared her teeth, growling and barking her warning. “So how do we find Nick?”

  “We don’t,” Roy said. “We let Sheriff Reins handle it. We’ve come to the same conclusion the police have. That tells me our sleuthing days are over.”

  “I’m not giving up yet,” Logan said, and we all stared at him in astonishment. “Give me tonight to find Nick. If he’s using his cell phone, I’ll have his location.”

  “Are you a hacker?” Mia asked. “Because it sounds like you’re a hacker.”

  “I don’t do anything illegal,” he said. “But I know ways around regulations.”

  “Work your magic,” I said, crossing my fingers. It was our last hope of finding Nick and freeing Ben.

  As Logan tapped away at a laptop and the other Agency members packed up to head home, my mind wouldn’t stop racing. There had to be something to my theory about Zach having a spare key to the gatehouse. It made sense—if Jenn gave a car key to Lianne, she’d have a spare for her house, too. Plus, there was still the pesky piece of missing information regarding the paternity of Jenn’s baby. Connecting Zach to the shoes, key, and baby was a short jump in my mind. All I had to do was prove it somehow.

  “I’ve got a sudden craving for Cornerstone chicken,” I told Monica after the gang left.

  She scrunched her nose. “Not a fan.”

  “I need to question Zach. He has the motive to plant those shoes, and he’s the most likely person to have the means.”

  “The key?”

  “The key.” I grabbed my handbag. “I’ll pack a bag for the gatehouse. You can drop me off after we eat and I get answers.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Do I ever? Don’t worry. I have a feeling that before this night is over, we’ll know who killed Jenn Berg.”

  Upstairs, I packed a bag and poked my head into Mia’s room. “Hey,” I said, waving my arms around. She had earbuds in and couldn’t hear me. When she saw me, she jumped and pulled her earbuds out. Liam hopped off her pillow and yapped.

  “Why didn’t you knock?” she said, all huffy. “I could’ve been changing my clothes!”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll remember to knock from now on.” Having a teen under my roof was going to be a big learning curve. Little kids didn’t care about privacy, but I had to remember Mia wasn’t a kid, even if she acted like one most of the time. “We’re going to the Cornerstone for dinner. Grab your shoes.”

  She turned up her nose like Monica had. What did people from Columbus have against fried chicken?

  “I’ll make a salad.” She tucked her earbuds back in, dismissing me.

  Okay, then.

  I shut her door and made my way down the stairs, gritting my teeth against the pain in my knee. I wondered if John Bridgemaker knew any of his ancestors’ rain dances. I’d try anything at this point.

  Monica sat forward in the driver’s seat and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel the whole way to the Cornerstone, not saying a word.

  “There’s nothing to be worried abou
t,” I said when she parked and turned off the car.

  “I don’t like the thought of you in that gatehouse by yourself. I’m going with you.”

  “You can’t. I need someone to stay with Mia. Please, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  She made an irritated, growly sound as she got out of the car but didn’t argue.

  The Cornerstone was busy. The new church held all of its small group meetings on Thursday nights, and many of the members came for chicken afterward. There was a line of people at the door waiting for tables.

  “I’m going to take a look in the bar and see if Zach’s here,” I said. “Be right back.”

  Monica grabbed my arm before I could dash away. “Why don’t we order to go? Then you can talk to him while we wait for our order.”

  “Okay,” I said, agreeing since Monica didn’t want to be there in the first place.

  I left her at the cash register, placed and paid for our dinner order, and snuck into the bar. Zach was bartending. There was a decent-sized crowd, and a baseball game played on the TV. Getting him away from his customers for a minute or two would be difficult, so I decided the best way, other than dragging him outside by his ear, was to be direct. He wouldn’t want to discuss Jenn Berg, the baby, and the break in within earshot of a bunch of people.

  I picked an empty stool between two men at the center of the bar and sat down. “Be right with ya,” Zach said, popping tops off beer bottles. He lifted his chin in recognition and smiled. He sure didn’t look like a murderer, but I couldn’t let his good bone structure distract me from getting to the truth.

  “What can I get you?” Zach asked, sliding a beverage napkin in front of me on the bar. If I was going to question him during this rush, I’d have to take the bull by the horns.

  “Answers,” I said. “Were you the father?”

  Zach’s face went red, and he looked away. “I’ve got a job to do, so tell me if you want something to drink.”

  “Ben’s in jail. Were you the baby’s father?”

  He cursed under his breath then turned and strode to a swinging door. He pushed it open and bellowed for someone named Diane to come out. I scurried over.

  “Listen,” he said to me, “I can give you five minutes, but that’s it.”

  I followed him to the storeroom by the restrooms where I’d seen him talking to Melody. My body buzzed with adrenaline. I couldn’t believe I was about to confront him on this. Who was I to make such claims? Not the police. Not the victim’s family.

  He shut the door behind us. I’d never been claustrophobic, but I developed a sudden case of it. “How do you know about the baby?” he asked. “Only Jenn’s family knows, and only because the cops told her mom. Let me guess, your ex-husband told you?”

  “We’re not divorced,” I said. “And yes, he told me because there’s a rumor going around that he and Jenn Berg were dating. He didn’t want me to hear that she was pregnant and think it was his baby.”

  He laughed.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “People are so bored with their lives in this microscopic town, they latch on to anything and make it a big deal so they have something to gossip about. Jenn wasn’t dating your ex-husband. He’s an old man. She could be his daughter. She was going out with some guy named Cory who she got her last dog from. The baby was his.”

  “Cory Bantum?” Oh good gravy. I was going to kill Nick Valentine for leaving this little factoid out of our conversations.

  “Yeah, that’s the guy. Real loser. He didn’t want the kid. Broke up with her when she told him she was pregnant. So you’re cornering the wrong guy.”

  “Too bad that one’s dead,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Cory Bantum’s dead,” I said, “and I hear you had a problem with being jealous of Jenn dating other men.”

  “Are you accusing me of killing Jenn and this Cory guy?” Zach laughed again. “I don’t have time to play Nancy Drew with you.” He pushed by me and opened the door.

  “Are those new shoes?” I asked.

  Zach looked at his feet. “Yeah. What of it?”

  “What did you do with your old ones?”

  “Stuck them in the charity bin at church. You’re welcome to go dig them out if Reverend Stroup doesn’t mind.”

  The charity bin. Very convenient. “Did Jenn have a spare key to the gatehouse like she did for her car?”

  Zach’s face got all red again. “I had a key. I gave it back. I don’t know what she did with it after that. You can’t be back here anymore.”

  He strode down the hall and back behind the bar. The baby might not have been his, but that didn’t clear him from my suspect list. If anything, he was even more suspicious due to his alleged jealousy issues. But Cory Bantum was the person I needed more information on, and finding Nick Valentine was on the top of my to do list for tomorrow.

  Monica was waiting by the door with greasy white paper bags full of chicken. “I think we got buffet chicken,” she said, crinkling her nose. “God knows how long it’s been sitting around in its own grease under a heat lamp.”

  “They go through it so fast, it doesn’t have time to sit. Let’s go.” If she didn’t want hers, I’d take it.

  I pushed the door open and held it for her. She took a few steps and froze, making me run right into her. “Mon!” I said, stumbling back. “Why’d you stop?”

  “My tires,” she said, nodding toward her car. “Someone slashed my tires.” She spun around to face me. “This is a message for you, Cam. You can’t go to that gatehouse tonight.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, but my shaky voice gave me away. Slashed tires could very well be a message for me to stay away tonight. “I’ll call Andy to come help us change the tires.”

  We walked to the car, and Monica set our bags of chicken on the hood while I dialed Andy and told him what happened. “I think there are spare snow tires in the garage,” I said. “Can you help me out?”

  “Be there in a few,” he said, and hung up.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without that kid,” I said, tossing my phone in my handbag. “I can’t let him leave when the documentary is finished.”

  Monica sighed. “I know there’s nothing I can say to keep you at home tonight, so I’m just going to stand here and be irritated.”

  “Better than constipated,” I said, grinning. Nothing like fifth grade boy humor to break the tension.

  She shook her head and held up a chicken bag. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue after eating this.”

  Ten endless minutes later, Andy pulled in with Mia in tow. “What are you doing here?” I asked her. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to get you chicken after all?”

  “No,” she said, wringing her hands, stress audible in her voice. “I don’t want you to go to the gatehouse.”

  “Mia … ” Stricken by the first display of emotion she’d ever shown me besides apathy, I was speechless. I hugged her, and she hugged me back, holding on tightly.

  “I know you want to find out who did this and free my dad, but what if something happens to you?”

  “I promise I’ll be careful,” I said, holding her back by the shoulders so I could look into her eyes, so much like her father’s. She even had those darned long lashes. “If I sense anything is wrong, I’ll call 911, just like your dad would do. Okay?”

  Monica came up beside us. “We’ll call her every hour, Mia. We’ll make sure she’s safe.”

  Reluctantly, Mia nodded. “But if you don’t answer, we’re coming over there and getting you.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, warmed by Mia’s affection, and hugged her again to start making up for lost time.

  • Twenty-Three •

  The gate at Hilltop Castle was open when Monica and I got there at a little after six p.m. She drove up the steep incline to the top and
parked in front of Finch’s massive front doors.

  “This place is nuts,” she said, leaning her head out the window and looking up to the pointy turrets. The castle had always creeped me out. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to build an enormous castle on top of the highest hill in town. Carl Finch didn’t strike me as a vain man, only eccentric. Owning a castle must have been on his bucket list.

  “Be right back,” I said, getting out of the car.

  An echoing gong sounded from inside when I rang the bell. Who would answer? A busty woman in a French maid uniform? A stuffy old butler? Lurch?

  It turned out to be Finch himself who opened the door, without a single hair of his comb-over out of place. “Hello, Cameron,” he said. “I’m so sorry for all the nasty business with Ben, but it’s good to have you here.”

  He didn’t suggest that Ben was innocent, I noticed. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m sure it will all be sorted out soon. Do you have a key for me while I’m staying at the gatehouse?”

  “I do.” His mustache twitched as he dug in his trousers pocket and pulled it out. “Here you are. I’m not expecting anyone until later this evening, when my good friend Dennis Stoddard arrives. If anyone unexpected shows up, press the intercom on the gate and let me know who it is.”

  “Okay.” It seemed easy enough. “Anything else?”

  “Stay vigilant down there. I’d like to think the town is safe and nothing will happen to you, but the past week has proven otherwise.”

  Nothing like the power of positive thinking, I wanted to say, but didn’t. “I’m sure it’ll be quiet and peaceful tonight.”

  On the drive back down the hill, I thanked my lucky stars that it wasn’t the middle of winter. I couldn’t image navigating the roller coaster driveway covered in ice. Monica dropped me off beside Brutus’s fenced in pen.

  “Call me if you need me,” she said. “I’ll be here in thirty seconds flat. And for the record, I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t like it one bit.”

  “It’s already on the record. Several times. Don’t worry. I’m going to read and relax.”