by Amy Vansant
“Can you tell Poodle-Face’s age?”
“She’s moving pretty fluidly. I wouldn’t say old.”
“Can you track her? See where else she went? Maybe catch a glimpse of her car?”
“Darla gave me the list of people who got dogs, and I have her near several of those houses, but I only have a shot of her on the doorstep of Katherine’s. Can’t narrow it down beyond that. My cameras aren’t pointed at individual doors and there isn’t any car activity around that time. I think she might have parked somewhere outside the neighborhood.”
“Okay. I have the sixth puppy, but the description of the person who brought it into the vet was an older woman.”
Tilly snorted. “That narrows it down.”
“That’s exactly what I said. Well, thank you. I might swing by and check out those videos if you can keep them handy.”
“Will do. Don’t tell Darla I’m making more limoncello.”
“I won’t. Frank would kill me.”
Tilly continued laughing as she hung up the phone.
Before Charlotte could pull from the veterinarian’s parking lot, her phone rang. It was Declan, calling from the Hock o’ Bell.
“Hello, handsome,” she answered.
“I hope you knew it was me calling.”
“No. I just always answer like that. What’s up?”
“That girl you were telling me about who lives with the stollen lady who died. Crystal, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because she just drove up with a whole truckload of furniture. Her and some guy.”
“I’m not surprised. She seems to be trying to expunge Alice from her life. But why did you say guy like you were unsure?”
“Oh I’m sure. They’re getting the stuff from the back of what I’m guessing is his pickup truck now so I only have a second, but this boyfriend of hers looks like bad news.”
“I’m going to swing by. I need to talk to her anyway.”
“If you want. But don’t start anything with this guy or I’m going to have to get all black-ops on his hiney.”
Charlotte giggled. “On his hiney. You’re such a thug. See you in a sec.”
Tilly would have to wait. Charlotte drove the three minutes to the Hock o’Bell in time to see the man Declan had been describing heft a chair from the back of a black Ford truck perched on enormous tires. Charlotte imagined he needed a ladder to climb into the thing.
She could see what Declan had meant about Crystal’s friend. He was reedy, with stringy brown hair hanging past his shoulders and a spotty collection of fuzz around his lip and chin that made it look as though he and his razor weren’t on speaking terms. Something about his pallor and the circles beneath his eyes implied his health wasn’t top notch either. He wore a loose tank top with sagging arm holes that hung open to the bottom seam, which held the whole ensemble together with little more than a prayer.
Charlotte scooped up the puppy and hurried past the truck to enter the pawn shop. Declan stood beside a bed talking to Crystal, who didn’t seem happy with the conversation.
“I gave you the numbers before you unloaded,” said Declan.
“I know, but now that I’m looking at it, I think it’s worth more.” Crystal glanced at Charlotte and blanched.
Charlotte nodded. She recognizes me from that day with Frank.
“You’re the cop.” Crystal’s gaze darted to the truck where her friend had finally wrestled a padded chair to the ground.
Charlotte chose not to correct her. Crystal turned her attention back to Declan.
“Two hundred’s fine.”
“Okay.” Declan moved to the door to hold it open for Scruffy McNoShirt. He took the opposite side of the chair and helped him get it through the door. When it had been placed on its feet again, the man wiped his sweaty brow with the bottom of his t-shirt, flashing his skinny waist to the world.
“You tell him we want more for that bed?” he asked Crystal.
“I, yes, but, Mark—”
Skinny Mark cut her short to address Declan. “It’s worth more, man, come on. You know it.”
Mark’s tone sounded threatening. Charlotte glanced around for a safe place to put the puppy, just in case the situation grew more heated. Declan could certainly handle himself, but she wasn’t going to stand around holding a pocket-dog while someone tried to pummel her boyfriend.
Declan held out his hands. “I was just telling Crystal. I gave you my best quote before you unloaded. I do that on purpose to avoid situations like this.”
Mark began to rub his arms, becoming fidgety in a way that made Charlotte uncomfortable. He looked more than just agitated, and she suspected any money they received for the furniture would be spent on his addiction. He looked as if he needed something to calm down.
“Dude. No way. I thought about it and—”
“Mark, this lady works with the police.” Crystal blurted the sentence, her voice strained.
Mark’s gaze traveled from Charlotte’s eyes to her toes and back again before he sniffed and turned away.
He lifted his arm in the air and let it fall back to his side.
“Whatever, man. Do what you gotta do.”
Mark left the store to the sound of Declan’s tinkling store bell.
Crystal watched him go and then returned her attention to Declan. “There’s a lamp too. Two seconds.”
She ran outside and caught Mark at the back of the truck as he was hefting the tailgate closed. They argued, though through the glass Charlotte couldn’t hear what about. After a moment, Mark dropped the tailgate again, jumped in the back and grabbed a lamp. He hopped down and handed it to Crystal, thrusting it out hard so she had to step back to avoid being pushed over.
Charlotte looked at Declan. “Seems like a nice guy.”
Declan nodded, his eyes never leaving Mark. “Real prince.”
Crystal ran back to the store clutching the lamp against her chest. Her eyes were glazed with tears.
“This too,” she said, handing it to Declan.
Declan took the lamp and set it on a nearby dresser before heading to his cash register. He opened it to retrieve several bills, which he handed to Crystal.
She moved to take them but he held on to the money, forcing her to look at him.
“You can do better,” he said.
Crystal snatched the money from his hand. Charlotte could see her expression twist with what appeared to be anger. She told Declan to go make love to himself and stormed out of the store.
Charlotte and Declan watched as she climbed into Mark’s truck and he roared from the parking lot with a squealing of tires.
“Wow,” said Charlotte.
“You know that money is going right up his nose or in his arm.”
“And hers.”
Declan shrugged. “Maybe. Though there’s no evidence on her. I spotted the track marks on his arm the second he walked into the store. He’s been at it a while.”
Charlotte’s phone rang. It was Frank.
“Oh boy. He’s probably calling to give me an update on Darla. She got into Tilly’s limoncello stash.”
Grateful for the distraction from the depressing drama they’d just witnessed, she answered.
“Hello?”
“I thought you’d like to know I just heard back on those stollen loaves.”
“Yes?”
“They all had almond in them.”
Charlotte felt the blood drain from her cheeks.
That probably meant Mariska had baked the batch that ultimately killed Alice.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yep. I’m going to have to talk to Mariska again tomorrow. See if she remembers anything else.”
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
She hung up to find Declan staring at her.
“What was that? You look like you got bad news.”
“I did. They found almond in all the stollens, which means Mariska had to have baked it right in.”
“She is, and she wouldn’t lie about something this serious, but it doesn’t make any sense. How could the entire batch be contaminated without Mariska knowing?”
“So it had to be murder?”
“Or a tragic mistake. Like a mismarked bag of flour.”
“But you think someone switched out the flour?”
Charlotte sighed and stared out into the parking lot where the truck had been. “Which brings us back to Crystal.”
Declan nodded. “Or Mark. Though I can’t say he seems like much of a baker.”
Chapter Thirteen
On the way home from Declan’s, Charlotte stopped at Tilly’s to watch the video Darla mentioned. She had to agree the person handing out the puppies moved like a woman, but thanks to the poodle mask, she didn’t feel any closer to discovering the identity of Yorkie Santa.
It could be Lyndsey though. Her build was similar.
“Do you know who that is?” she asked the puppy nestled contently in her arms.
It didn’t know.
Charlotte had Tilly print a new copy of the best still-shot of the masked puppy thief. Darla had already taken the printout home with her, but Tilly and Charlotte both suspected Darla was napping.
After a quick taste of the limoncello, Charlotte left before she fell for its siren song and ended up on the rocks like Darla. Time to head for the food store. She was down to one chicken breast and a freezer-burned pizza she’d been ignoring because she’d accidentally bought one with peppers on it and wasn’t a fan of green peppers. She made a mental note to pawn it off on Declan the next time he came over.
For the pack of puppies, she’d crushed Abby’s food into smaller bits and they’d eaten it, so she knew she could feed Number Six for a day. It was getting late and there was no rush to take him back to the Miller farm. Anyway, she loved snuggling with the little guys.
Abby might not be thrilled, but she’d get over it.
Caught at a red light, Charlotte’s mind wandered back to the scene at the pawn shop.
I wish I had Crystal’s boyfriend’s last name.
She’d love to have Frank put it through the system and see if he had an arrest record. Maybe Crystal could see what a dead-end the loser was if she knew about his past…
She shook her head.
Who am I kidding?
Of course Crystal knows Mark is a bad guy. That’s probably half the attraction. She just hoped Crystal hadn’t killed her grandmother in anticipation of inheriting money to feed her boyfriend’s drug problem. Or her own. Regardless of what Declan surmised, there was still a good chance she was right there with Mark getting high.
Charlotte sighed and glanced down at the puppy circling on her passenger seat. He flopped down and put his head between his tiny paws, ready for a nap.
She smiled.
Think about puppies.
Even with a possible murder involved in the puppy-napping, it was more fun to think about the puppies, even if she wasn’t officially on the Miller case.
She wasn’t officially on Alice’s case either.
Actually, she was feeling pretty unemployed at the moment. No one had needed a detective since Christmas. At least not for any paying jobs.
Maybe I should be thinking about marketing.
She glanced at Six to keep her mind on happy thoughts and noticed it had chosen to nap partially on the printout of the person in the poodle mask.
I should ask everyone at the Miller mansion if they recognize the mask.
The stolen puppies had to be related to Kimber Miller’s death, didn’t they? It was too much of a coincidence that they would go missing from a room right beside the bedroom where he died at about the same time.
But the Miller investigation was Sheriff Carter’s domain. That created complications. If she handed over the photo to him, he’d want to know where it came from and she didn’t think he would be as understanding as Frank about Tilly’s activities. Even if she gave it to Frank to give to Carter, he’d ask where it came from. Frank could lie and say they had community cameras, but if things went to trial there would be subpoenas for a community-sponsored camera that didn’t exist...no. That didn’t work. Tilly’s cameras weren’t strictly lawful, but they sure came in handy. She didn’t want to lose them or get Tilly in trouble.
The light turned green and Charlotte hit the gas. The puppy on the passenger seat snorted a high-pitched, dreamy whine and growled in its sleep.
Now that is adorable.
She hated to see the last puppy return—
Hold on...I can use the puppy.
She had to return the dog, didn’t she? And if she happened to show around the photo of the poodle mask while she was there, what harm could that do?
Now she felt inspired to keep working. She drove past the food store and headed for the Miller mansion. It would be four o’clock before she could get there, so maybe everyone would be home getting ready for dinner and Sheriff Carter and his crew wouldn’t be there because they’d already come and gone.
The puppy raised its head and stared at her with sleepy eyes as she pulled on to the bumpy driveway.
“Sorry.”
It plunked its head back on the seat.
She pulled into the large stone parking area in front of the house and gathered up the puppy and printout.
“Time to see your brothers and sisters again.”
The puppy seemed nonplussed, hanging limp in her palm as she picked it up.
She rang the bell and, a moment later, Mina appeared at the door. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the puppy in Charlotte’s arms.
“You found it.”
“I did.”
Mina reached out to take the warm bundle of fur. “Same place as the others? Pineapple Place?”
“Pineapple Port. Not quite. Someone had taken it to the vet and that’s where I found it, but that someone was probably from Pineapple Port. We just don’t know who. They left the dog there.”
“Oh. Well, it’s nice to have them all back.” Mina flashed a quick smile and took half a step back, as if preparing to close the door.
Charlotte leaned forward to let her know she wasn’t quite finished yet. “Before I go, do you mind if I show you something?”
“Hm?”
“I have a printout of the person who dropped the puppies off. I was wondering if you might recognize him or her.”
Mina’s smile froze on her face and her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. The effect was almost cartoonish, and a sentence flashed through Charlotte’s brain.
You know who took the puppies.
“Sure,” said Mina, finding her composure.
Charlotte held out the printout for inspection and Mina looked at it.
“That’s a poodle face,” she said, her shoulders seeming to unbunch.
“Yes, they were wearing a mask. But I thought maybe you’d recognize the clothing or the mask itself?”
Mina shook her head. “No.”
“We think it’s a woman, if that helps?”
“Why do you think it’s a woman?”
“This is a still-shot from a video. When you see her move, this person moves like a woman.”
Mina clutched the dog closer to her chest and shrugged. “No. Sorry.”
“Do you mind if I ask the others? Are the girls around or Lyndsey?”
“I don’t think—”
Mina didn’t finish her sentence before one of the girls entered the hallway eating an apple. From the supercilious look on her face, Charlotte guessed it was Payne.
“I’m around,” she said, walking toward the image in Charlotte’s outstretched hand without actually acknowledging Charlotte’s presence on the doorstep. “What’s this?”
“This is the person I think took the puppies. Or at least the person I think dropped them off.”
Payne looked at the photo and then at Mina, who seemed genuinely afraid of the girl.
�
�What is it?” asked Charlotte, worried the moment might be lost.
“It’s Lyndsey,” said Payne.
“Nooo—” began Mina and Payne looked at her as if she’d just said apples are square.
“Yes, it is. That’s her Halloween Hoedown costume from last year. Remember? She went as sexy poodle with that ridiculous pink bodysuit. So thirsty. You remember. I think you even said something to her about how it didn’t leave much to the imagination.”
Mina’s hand fluttered to her chest. “No, I don’t think so—”
“She had pink cotton balls glued to her butt, remember?” Payne rolled her eyes and put her hand next to her mouth to effect a stage whisper in Charlotte’s direction. “Me thinks she was hoping to fetch a man.”
Mina screwed her eyes shut tight and bowed her head as if she were trying to wish everyone away. “She couldn’t have taken the puppies. She isn’t allowed upstairs.”
Charlotte cocked her head. “She isn’t allowed upstairs?”
“No one is,” muttered Payne.
“Those were Mr. Miller’s rules?”
Mina nodded. “He’s very particular about his room and his personal areas.”
“He was a freak,” added Payne, her gaze already on her phone.
“Do you know where Lyndsey is now?”
Payne motioned behind her towards the barn. “I was just at the barn. The barn Jeep is missing. I think she went to her mother’s. Something’s up. I could hear her old lady screaming at her on the other end of the phone earlier.”
“Do you know where her mother lives?” Charlotte was ready to go anywhere to talk to Lyndsey. First the earring, now the mask. Everything pointed to her.
“No. Some old folks’ place.”
Charlotte grimaced. “We’re in Florida. Can you narrow it down a bit?”
Payne huffed and looked up from her phone to tilt back her head so fast and far Charlotte feared she’d flip over backwards.
“Let me think. She stopped there once with me in the car, coming back from a show.”
“A show?”
Charlotte got the look from Payne, and realized now she, not Mina, was the dumbest person on the planet.
“A horse show.”
“Gotcha.”
“The place was across from a Publix.”
“There’s a Publix every twelve feet.”
