by B R Snow
“Unless she just wanted to say goodbye to him,” I said, tearing up. “I need to run over there. But I won’t be gone long. Just keep an eye on the stew and give it an occasional stir.”
“You want one of us to come along?” Jackson said.
“No, I’ll be fine,” I said.
I grabbed the keys to Josie’s car and made the short drive to the motel. Mr. Johnson was waiting outside the room, and he unlocked the door, and we went inside. Otto was on the bed, and he stared up at us forlornly. The sealed note with my name on it was sitting on the nightstand. I sat down on the bed and petted the Frenchie then opened the envelope.
Suzy,
I have to go. For so many reasons I can’t even count, much less explain. But I have to thank you for treating me so well and for taking such good care of Otto. I’ve learned a couple of things today as the fog in my head started to clear. The first is that I have no business owning a dog. In all honesty, Buggy was the one who always made sure Otto was taken care of. Just like he did with me. The other thing I’ve learned is that I have no business being here. I need to get home and start trying to make amends for some of the horrible things I’ve done. So please take good care of Otto. I know that you will always do what’s best for him. And if you’re ever in my neck of the woods, you know where to start looking for me.
Bon chance, mon ami.
Claudine
“What did she say?” Mr. Johnson said.
“She had to leave,” I said.
“Without the dog?”
“Yes.”
“I could never do something like that,” he said, softly.
“I know you couldn’t, Mr. Johnson,” I said, putting the note in my pocket.
I got up off the bed and lifted Otto into my arms. I looked into his sad eyes and felt mine begin to water. The poor little guy, probably no more than two, had been through more than enough pain and suffering, and I was determined to make sure that it stopped today. Otto was now an official member of our family at the Inn.
“What do you say, Otto? You feel like heading back to your condo?”
Otto seemed to recognize the word, and he snorted and wiggled in my arms.
“It’s gotta be better than being stuck in some crappy motel room, right?” I said to the dog, then stopped when I remembered who was in the room with me. “Sorry. No offense, Mr. Johnson.”
“None taken,” he said, miffed but still managing a small smile.
I drove home with Otto on my lap and went inside through the kitchen door. Detective Abrams was at the stove stirring the stew.
“This smells great,” he said, then put the wooden spoon down and rubbed Otto’s head. “He’s a good dog.”
“Yes, he is,” I said, handing him Claudine’s note.
I headed into the living room, and all four dogs noticed Otto immediately. I set him down on the floor, and all five started to get reacquainted.
“You guys play nice,” I said, sitting back down on the couch. “I can’t believe all the things that have happened since I got up this morning.”
“I call them a week in a day,” Jackson said. “Another thing I won’t miss about the job.”
“When is your last day?”
“Friday.”
“Wow,” I said, yawning. “We’ll have to get a party organized.”
“No hurry,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“And that makes me very happy, Jackson.”
“I know it does,” he said, patting my leg.
Detective Abrams came into the living room and handed the note to Jackson.
“By neck of the woods,” he said. “I assume she’s talking about Montreal?”
“She must be,” I said. “The only other place she’s ever lived was France, and I don’t think she’d go back there.”
“What does the you know where to start looking for me reference mean?” Detective Abrams said.
“Under a railroad bridge,” I whispered.
“What a tough life,” he said. “Makes you think, huh?”
“Way too much.”
Jackson tossed the note on the coffee table, then glanced down at the dogs who were rolling around on the floor.
“At least the dog is going to be okay,” he said. “What do you think? Technically, Claudine is still a suspect. I guess we should try to find her.”
“I already made a couple of calls,” Detective Abrams said. “But I’ve learned that homeless people are pretty good at disappearing when they want to. And since most folks avoid the homeless like the plague that can make them even harder to find.”
“I don’t think it’s her,” I said, making room for Chloe who had finished roughhousing for the moment.
“If it isn’t, then it has to be someone from the family,” Jackson said. “Geisha girl?”
“Caspian? Maybe,” I said, glancing at Detective Abrams. “What’s your take?”
“Gee, I don’t know,” he deadpanned. “There’s just so many to choose from.”
Jackson and I both laughed. It was my first good laugh of the day, and my mood started to improve.
“Maybe the old man did have a new will stashed away,” Detective Abrams said.
“And he ended up putting Buggy back in it?” Jackson said.
“Or he decided to take Lucinda or some of the other kids out,” I said.
“But why kill Buggy and then try to make it look like he was the one who robbed the bank?” Jackson said.
“I have no idea,” Detective Abrams said. “But it was definitely the work of amateurs. Except for the two explosions. That was the work of a total pro.”
“Well, if we’re dealing with amateurs, we wouldn’t have to look much further than the two brothers,” Jackson said.
“Brock and Bentley?” Detective Abrams said. “Could be. Assuming they were ever sober enough to handle something like that.”
“Maybe Brock bet Bentley a hundred bucks he couldn’t get the safe open,” I said.
“That would probably do it,” Detective Abrams said. “I can’t believe he wanted inside information on the favorite dog contest.”
“Did you find anything interesting in the brothers’ background?” I said.
“Not much,” Detective Abrams said. “They got into Ivy League schools on the strength of the family name and a couple of big checks. They both tried finance, dabbled on Wall Street, then flamed out, and became trust fund managers.”
“Their own trust funds, right?” I said.
“Of course,” Detective Abrams said. “But then the family was forced to put both of them on an allowance. They’re both total screw-ups, and the parents were worried Bentley would gamble everything away. And apart from the year Brock spent in the Army, he’s never done anything of note.”
Detective Abrams caught my raised eyebrow.
“I already checked on his military service,” he said. “Brock spent his whole time in the motor pool washing and putting gas in vehicles. And from everything I’ve read, there is no way the Army would have let him get within a mile of any explosives. One of the comments in his evaluation reports was that Brock consistently aspires to a level of mediocrity he is uniquely unqualified to attain.”
“Ouch,” I said, laughing. “Why on earth did he ever enlist in the first place?”
“No idea,” Detective Abrams said. “But after a year, the Army was more than happy to award him an early exit. Then Brock devoted himself to his two true passions, and the rest is history.”
“Alcohol and women,” I said.
“Bingo. Roxanne is just the latest in a long line.”
“But why would he marry her?” I said.
“Apparently, Brock’s worried about not having an heir,” Detective Abrams said.
“Roxanne doesn’t seem like someone who’d want any kids,” I said, frowning.
“I guess the promise of a million bucks was more than enough to confirm her maternal instincts,” Detective Abrams said.
“What? Rox
anne is going to get a million dollars just for having a baby?” I said.
“Two, if it’s a boy.”
“How did you find all this out?” I said.
“I’m a cop.”
“Two million? It sure beats hooker money,” I said. “But if Brock’s on an allowance, where is he’s going to get the money? From what I saw at dinner, there’s no way he was going to get it from his mother.”
I sat upright on the couch as a lightbulb went on.
“What is it?” Detective Abrams said, staring at me.
“I’m just sitting here wondering about how both parents recently died peacefully in their sleep,” I said.
“What about it?” Jackson said. “The old man was ninety-nine, and she was about to turn ninety-five.”
“Talk to me, Suzy,” Detective Abrams said.
“I think it’s possible that their deaths might not have been as peaceful as everyone says they were.”
“Are you talking about a little pillow over the face action?” Detective Abrams said.
“They both died during their afternoon nap, right? It would be impossible to trace,” I said.
“You’re suggesting one of the siblings murdered their parents?” Jackson said.
“No, I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just wondering out loud.”
“Tomato, tomahto,” Jackson said.
“What do you think, Detective Abrams?” I said.
“I think it’s time to have a little chat with the lawyer who handles estate planning for the Winters family.”
“Do you know who that is?”
“I do,” he said, nodding.
“And I assume you know how to get in touch with this person?”
“I do.”
“You’re good.”
“I know.”
Chapter 14
I was in the reception area reviewing the day’s schedule with Sammy and Jill when I heard the boat. Josie, already wearing her scrubs, maneuvered the boat into its slip, grabbed her overnight bag, then hopped onto the dock and secured the lines. She made her way down the dock then up the path that led to the Inn and came in through the front door.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said, removing her sunglasses. “The River’s like glass this morning. It’s so beautiful.”
“Hmmm, let’s see,” Sammy said, giving Josie a mischievous grin. “Freshly showered and already dressed for work. I guess we can’t count this one as a walk of shame.”
“Funny,” Josie said. “And for the record, Sammy, I’m rarely ashamed of anything I do.” Then she looked at me. “Did I miss anything yesterday?”
“How long have you got?” I said.
Josie glanced at the wall clock, then looked at Jill.
“Has my eight o’clock shown up yet?”
“No, Sally called a few minutes ago and said she’s running a bit late. She’ll be here around eight thirty.”
“Then I’ve got forty minutes,” Josie said. “You got the coffee on in your office?”
“I do,” I said, gesturing for her to lead the way.
We got settled in. I sat down behind my desk. Josie sprawled out on the couch and rested her coffee mug on her stomach.
“Where’s Captain and Chloe?” she said.
“They’re in the condo area keeping Otto company,” I said.
“Otto’s back? That seems like a good place to start the conversation,” she said, sitting up.
I gave her a fifteen-minute overview of yesterday’s events with Claudine and Caspian and ended with my dinner with Jackson and Detective Abrams. Apart from a few questions about some of the details, Josie sat quietly and paid close attention to my recap.
“That’s so sad about Claudine,” Josie said. “Do you think she’s going to be okay?”
“Maybe,” I said, running the tip of my finger across the desktop. “Unless she ends up in jail, or runs out of her medications.”
“You don’t think she was the one who killed Buggy, do you?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “But when she went off in the car, I have to admit I was pretty scared. And if she exploded like that at Buggy, I think she could have been capable of anything.”
“You’re a good person,” Josie said, giving me a small smile. “Most people wouldn’t have given her the time of day.”
“I have my moments,” I said, shrugging.
“You have a lot of those moments, Suzy,” she said, yawning. “But please tell me you’re not seriously considering spending forty grand on a painting.”
I contorted my face into my best are you out of your mind expression.
“Of course not.”
“Just checking,” she said, laughing. “With prices like that, Caspian must be a good artist.”
“I think so, but what do I know? Most of her stuff is abstract.”
“So I take it she doesn’t paint dogs playing poker,” Josie said, nodding at the painting on the wall.
“No, but she does have one of a family of ducks that’s pretty amazing,” I said.
“Ducks? I guess that makes sense given where we live.”
“She did it a long time ago, and it represents her family and the impact the two illegitimate kids had on it,” I said, sipping my coffee.
“Illegitimate kids? What on earth are you talking about?”
“Did I forget to mention that?” I said. “Wow. How did I manage to skip over that? I must be slipping.”
I spent the next few minutes covering that part of the story. Again, Josie listened closely without interrupting.
“You did have a full day,” she said, getting up to top off our coffees. “What time did your headache arrive?”
“What makes you think I had a headache?”
“Because every time you get hit with a lot of new information, your brain starts running a thousand miles an hour. What time was it?”
“It was early. I was still in Freddie’s office,” I said. “But it’s gone now. How was your night?”
“It ended well, but most of the night leading up to that was pretty strange,” she said.
“How so?”
“I met two of Summerman’s best friends last night.”
“That’s nice,” I said, nodding. “What do they do?”
“I think they do a lot of things people like you and me don’t want to know about,” Josie whispered.
“You lost me,” I said.
“Doc and Merlin, those are their names, seem to be really nice, but there’s something spooky about them. When I asked them what they did for a living, Doc was really evasive. And Merlin is this tiny guy who Summerman says is a technology genius. But he’s also got more phobias than you could ever believe possible.”
“How do they know Summerman?”
“They apparently met in Vegas several years ago. But you wouldn’t believe some of the places they’ve traveled to together. Some of them are the usual spots, but many were locations where there’s a lot of political unrest. Really dangerous places.”
“Spies?”
“I think it’s a possibility,” Josie said, giving me a blank stare. “And when they saw how close Summerman and I have gotten, it seemed to bother them. It was almost as if they’re worried that Summerman has made some sort of mistake getting involved with me.”
“How on earth could that be a mistake?”
“I know, right?” she said, laughing. “I’m an absolute delight to be around.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, laughing along.
“But Summerman won’t have to worry about that much longer,” Josie said, her eyes starting to water.
“What’s the matter?”
“I just have a very difficult decision I need to make,” Josie said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
My stomach dropped, and I slid my coffee cup across the desk. I took a deep breath, exhaled loudly, then looked at her.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” I whispered.
“What on earth are
you talking about?” she said, baffled.
“You know, leaving. Taking off. Riding off into the sunset with Summerman. It’s okay. I get it. He’s incredibly rich and famous, and I’m sure he’d love to spend the rest of his life taking you around the world.”
“Talk about somebody being off their meds,” Josie said, shaking her head.
“I don’t take any meds.”
“Well, maybe you should start,” she said. “How did you ever come up with the crazy idea that I was going anywhere?”
“I was sitting in Freddie’s office yesterday morning, and he mentioned that it might be a possibility. It seemed to make a lot of sense at the time.”
“You’re listening to Freddie? Now I know you’ve lost your mind. Suzy, I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re not?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m doing the one thing I was put on this planet to do. And I’m doing it with my best friend in the whole world. Why the heck would I leave?”
I felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off my shoulders. I don’t remember spending a lot of time obsessing about the possibility she might leave, but it must have been working overtime in my subconscious.
“But what about the lifestyle?”
“Suzy, in all the years you’ve known me, can you tell me one time I’ve ever done anything for the money?”
“No,” I said, tearing up. “If you’re not leaving, then what’s the big decision you need to make?”
“I need to decide if I can live with the idea of being Summerman’s partner only three months out of the year.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Join the club,” Josie said. “After summer is over, Summerman will be gone the other nine months of the year.”
“Gone where?”
“He says he can’t tell me,” she said, tearing up again.
“Do you think he has a wife and a family somewhere else?” I said, raising an eyebrow at her.
“At first, I did. But he swears that’s not it.”
“And you believe him?”
“I do,” she said, nodding.
“Then it has to be somehow connected to his two friends, right?”
“That’s my guess. Summerman is very secretive about where he’s going to be the rest of the year and what he’ll be doing, but it has to be tied in with Doc and Merlin.”
