Love is Murder

by Kate Bell

  “Now, Mr. Jones. I think you’re getting carried away with this. When did you see Frito last?” Alec asked.

  “This morning when I fed him his Dog Chow. He ate half a cup, just like normal and then went to his bed and lay down and took his morning nap. Then, this afternoon when I realized I hadn’t heard anything from him for a while, I went to look for him. He’s gone,” he said. His bottom lip began to quiver on the last part. I felt bad for him. Some people just really loved their dogs.

  “And what makes you think Miss Maples took him?” Alec asked.

  “She hates Frito. She’s always yelling at him through the fence. And, she teases him. She makes lots of noise when he’s out in the yard, daring him to bark. That’s why he gets so excited all the time. It’s because she teases him!”

  “I see,” Alec said, glancing at the fence. “Is it possible he found a place to get out at? Some dogs are escape artists. Maybe he just found a place to escape and took a walk.”

  Phil shook his head. “No. My fence is secure. I’m quite sure of that. She had to have lured him out somehow and done who knows what to him.”

  The fence was six feet tall and solid wood without any spaces between the boards. Unless one was broken somewhere along the bottom, it would have been impossible for Frito to escape.

  “How would she have lured him out?” I asked. If Frito couldn’t escape, it would be impossible for Jenna to lure him out unless she opened the gate and I couldn’t see a gate.

  Phil pushed air out through his mouth. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “Now, Phil, I didn’t say that,” I began, when Jenna stepped out onto her front steps. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the three of us without saying anything.

  “There she is! There she is! Ask her!” Phil said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

  “Ask me what?” Jenna asked.

  “Where’s my Frito?” Phil said, pushing past Alec and I and heading over toward Jenna.

  Jenna curled her lip at him. “How would I know where that mangy dog is?”

  “Now, let’s all discuss this civilly,” Alec said, trying to catch up to Phil. Phil may have been short legged, but he could move when he wanted to.

  Phil approached Jenna with one finger pointed at her. “Frito isn’t mangy! You take that back!”

  “You better get that finger out of my face,” Jenna said coolly. She hadn’t budged an inch from where she stood and from the looks of it, she wasn’t going to.

  Phil stopped short in front of her.

  “Now listen, I want you to calm down, Phil,” Alec said, stepping between the two of them. Phil took a couple of steps back.

  “Why don’t we all discuss this nicely?” I asked, stepping next to Phil. Phil’s face had turned dark red and I was worried he might have heart failure over his little dog.

  “I want my dog back,” Phil whined to me.

  “I understand, and we’re going to try and help you find him,” I said, more calmly than I felt. I was glad Alec was here or there might have been a brawl between the two of them and I was pretty sure Jenna would win.

  “He needs to stay off my property,” Jenna said. I looked at her. Her face was blank, but her words sounded like a threat.

  “You took my Frito!” Phil said.

  “I did not,” Jenna said calmly.

  “Give me back my dog!” Phil screamed, taking a step closer to Jenna.

  Alec put a hand against Phil’s chest. “Slow down, Mr. Jones.”

  “She has my dog! She’ll hurt him!” he pleaded.

  “You have no proof of that,” Alec said, trying to remain calm. This situation was spiraling out of control. I wondered if I was going to have to call for backup for Alec. I wasn’t sure I could do much to help Alec if Phil completely lost it.

  “I swear, I know you took him,” Phil said, looking at Jenna. “If I find proof, I swear, you will lose something that you value.”

  “Don’t you threaten me, little man,” Jenna said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “Now, stop right there, Mr. Jones. You cannot go threatening anyone. If you continue this, I’ll have to call the police,” Alec said.

  Phil’s cheeks puffed out and he took a step back, but never took his eyes off of Jenna.

  “Now, Miss Maples,” Alec asked. “Have you seen Mr. Jones’s dog?”

  “Nope,” she replied, not taking her eyes off Phil.

  “If you see his dog, you’ll be sure and tell him, won’t you?” Alec asked.

  “Sure,” she said.

  Alec turned to Phil. “We’ll certainly contact animal control in case they’ve found him and we’ll keep an eye out for him.”

  “What?” Phil nearly exploded. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to do? She has my Frito!” Spittle flew from his mouth on the last part.

  “Please, Mr. Jones, I need you to calm down,” Alec said. “Why don’t we go over to your house and have a talk?”

  “What? No. Why would you want to come over to my house?” Phil said, wide-eyed.

  Alec narrowed his eyes at him. “To talk about your dog,” he said calmly.

  Phil shook his head, looking from Alec to me and back. “That isn’t necessary. I know who has my Frito. There’s nothing to talk about.”

  Phil suddenly turned and strode back to his house. We watched as he opened his front door a crack and slid inside and closed the door. The deadbolt could be heard clicking locked.

  We stood and stared at the door for a minute, then turned back and looked at Jenna. She still had her arms folded over her chest.

  “Do you have his dog?” I finally asked her.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “No. I do not have his dog. Do you both see what I’ve had to deal with here?”

  I nodded my head. I certainly did. Phil was a little out of his mind.

  “Do you have any idea what might have happened to his dog?” Alec asked.

  “Not one idea,” Jenna said. “I swear, I hate that dog, but I’m not crazy. You saw his reaction to the dog going missing. I wouldn’t want to mess with that kind of crazy.”

  “I suggest you try and stay clear of Mr. Jones for the time being. If he gives you any trouble though, don’t hesitate to call the police,” Alec advised.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t hesitate,” she said.

  I wasn’t sure how Alec felt, but I felt like we had our prime murder suspect in Phil Jones. The guy was nuts.

  --15--

  I took a deep breath, inhaling the clean air. The sky had finally cleared up and the air was fresh and clean. I was driving over to Lucy’s house to pick her up and a banana chocolate chip bundt cake sat on the seat next to me. We were going to pay Meg Cranston a visit. I just wanted to check up on her and drop off the bundt cake. Nothing says “thinking of you” like a bundt cake.

  Lucy was standing on the curb when I pulled up. She opened the door, picked up the cake and sat down. “We’re going on an investigation! Yay!” she said.

  “What happened to your hair?” I asked as she buckled her seat belt one handed and closed the door.

  “Oh, the puce was nice, but Ed said it was giving him nightmares. You know how he is. So I thought I’d try royal blue. Only puce and royal blue make, well, something close to rotting Chinese food green.”

  “Ah, well, um, it looks nice,” I said, pulling away from the curb.

  “Yeah. Sure. Thanks,” she answered. “This cake smells awesome. I love banana cake. So catch me up on what all has been happening.”

  So I did. I know Alec doesn’t like for me to tell all, but this was Lucy. She was my best friend and she knew how to keep a secret. As long as I specified that it was a secret, she would keep her mouth shut.

  “That Phil sounds like a definite suspect,” she said when I had finished telling her all that I knew.

  “Yup, he sure does.”

  We pulled up to Meg Cranston’s house and got out of the car.

  “I can’t believe she
just torched her husband without a funeral or anything,” Lucy whispered.

  “Me either,” I whispered back. “Seems odd, if you ask me.”

  I rang the doorbell and held the cake in front of me.

  Meg Cranston was wearing a cute exercise outfit, complete with spandex pants and a nylon flowered top.

  “Hi, Meg,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind us stopping by, but I brought you a banana chocolate chip bundt cake. And this is my friend Lucy.”

  “Oh, hello,” she said to Lucy. “Come on in.”

  We followed Meg into the living room. There was a cardboard box with books in it sitting on the living room floor.

  “Would you like some coffee? We can try a piece of your cake. It smells really good,” she said.

  I nodded. “That sounds great,” I said. “I just wanted to check in on you, Meg, and see how you were doing. I’m so sorry about your husband.”

  She sighed. “It’s still hard to believe he’s gone. I’ve started packing my things. I can’t wait to be out of here.”

  “Let me help you,” I said.

  I followed Meg into the kitchen and helped myself to the plates and a knife. “I hope you like banana,” I said. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll handle this?”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  I nodded. “I’ve got this.”

  “Okay, well, cups are in that cupboard,” she said, pointing.

  She went to join Lucy in the living room and I poured the already made coffee into three cups. Meg had a neat kitchen done in red and white. The house was older and the kitchen was small, like a lot of older houses had.

  I found a tray in a lower cupboard and loaded it up with the coffee, cream and sugar, then cut three slices of cake. The cake did smell good. I could smell undertones of real butter beneath the banana and chocolate. My grandmama used to make this very same cake for me when I was sad and it always brightened my day. I had spent the ninth grade breaking up with the same boyfriend six different times and this cake had become one of my favorites. It took me most of the following summer to lose the ten pounds I had gained from this very recipe.

  “Here we are,” I said, carrying the tray into the living room.

  Meg gave me a tired smile. “Lucy was just telling me about your baking blog. That sounds like fun.”

  “Oh, it is,” I said. “There’s nothing I love more than baking.”

  “Do you work, Meg?” Lucy asked, picking up a cup of coffee.

  “No. I hadn’t been able to find anything here in Sandy Harbor. Before we left Florida, I worked in a bookstore. Spencer was the real breadwinner. I have started and stopped college more times than I care to admit. I always thought I would get into some career or other, but all I really ever did was take on low paying, meaningless jobs.”

  Meg sounded distinctly depressed. Not that I could blame her. Her husband had been gone for less than a week. The depression would come and go for the next year or more, I was certain.

  “Let me give you a business card. I used to write another blog that was about grief management. I retired the blog after eight years, but there are still a lot of articles there. My husband was killed by a drunk driver,” I said.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, but at least you knew who killed your husband. Not like me. Oh, I mean I know who killed him all right. It was that blond-haired hussy on the other side of town. But the police won’t take my word for it,” she said. It was then that I thought I might be smelling alcohol on her breath. I glanced at Lucy, who was looking at me pointedly.

  “Meg, why are you so sure Jenna Maples killed your husband? Even if she was having an affair with him, why would she kill him?” I asked, trying to be as gentle as I could.

  Meg rubbed her forehead. “Who else would it be? We don’t know anyone here in Sandy Harbor. That stupid company moved us out here where we didn’t know a soul.”

  “Why did Stanton Industries move here to Sandy Harbor?” I asked her.

  She shrugged. “Why did they move us to any of the other cities? It was always top secret. All Spencer would say is it was government security.”

  “Meg, do you have any other proof, besides the missing laptop, that Spencer and Jenna were having an affair?” I asked.

  “I think that’s more than enough. He was coming home later and later. He was distracted. He didn’t seem to have any interest in me or what I was doing with my life,” she said, her voice cracking.

  “I see. Did you ever find that laptop?”

  She shook her head. “No. I can’t imagine what could have happened to it. It wasn’t in his car? That police chief was supposed to get back with me on what’s happening with the case, but I haven’t heard a word. Have you heard anything?”

  I wasn’t sure what I could and couldn’t tell her. So I told her the truth. “No, I haven’t heard anything new from the police.” And that was true. It had been several days since Alec and I had been to the police station and I hadn’t heard anything new since then.

  “So, Meg, when is the funeral?” Lucy asked.

  I glanced at Lucy, but she was smiling at Meg. Of course Lucy knew she had already had him cremated.

  “I’m not having a funeral. I’ve already cremated him. I’m not giving that woman a chance to show up at any funeral,” she said bitterly.

  “Didn’t you have family that would want to have a funeral for him? What about your son?” I asked.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “I don’t care what any of his family might want. We haven’t spoken to any of them in years. And my son, well, my son wouldn’t have time to come to a funeral.”

  “Oh,” I said, not knowing what to say to that.

  She picked up a piece of cake and took a small bite. “Oh, this is really good,” she said, perking up just a bit. Leave it to my grandmama to come up with a recipe that would bring a smile to the face of a grieving widow.

  We sat and visited for a while, enjoying the cake and coffee. I hoped Meg would give me some new evidence, but she really didn’t seem to have any. Finally, Lucy and I got up to go.

  “If you need anything, Meg, let me know,” I said.

  Meg got to her feet and looked at me very hard. “If I absolutely knew for sure that woman killed my husband, I would do the same to her. If I had the proof in my hand, I mean.”

  “Meg, you don’t want to be saying things like that. You can get into trouble,” I said gently.

  “I know. But I don’t care,” she said quietly.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Thank you for the cake,” she said after a moment. “It’s lovely. Let me show you to the door.”

  We followed her to the door and said our goodbyes.

  Once Lucy and I were back in my car, we turned to look at each other.

  “What do you think?” Lucy asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I have to wonder about her not having a funeral. It doesn’t seem normal to me.”

  “Me either. In my family, we have funerals even for the relatives we don’t like. We sit around and pretend they were nice people. I can’t imagine not having one.”

  “Especially that part about her son not having time to attend a funeral. That’s just an odd family, if you ask me,” I said.

  We left there feeling like we had more questions than when we got there.

  --16--

  “I think we should park over here so they don’t see us,” I said, motioning to the far side of the park. Alec and I had discovered Spencer’s body here. The fact that both Jenna’s and Phil’s houses were easily seen from this vantage point was not lost on me and I wondered exactly what it was that Spencer had been doing that early morning last week.

  I was bundled up in the warmest winter coat I owned and wore a black knit cap. The coat was also black and I wore black running shoes, just in case I needed to make a quick escape. I looked over at Lucy, sitting next to me. She was dressed similarly. We had once broken into Henry’s Home Cooking Restaurant trying to find e
vidence that would clear my name and point to the real killer. Mission accomplished. I was free and the killer, Martha Newberry, was sitting behind bars. Now we were going to spy on two suspects in Spencer Cranston’s murder. We were becoming good at this sort of thing.

  “Can’t we get any closer?” Lucy asked. “How are we going to see anything from here?”

  I parked my car, and pulled my binoculars out of my purse and held them up to her. “I brought some help for that.”

  “Can you see out of those at night?” she asked.

  “Sure. They work great.” I held the binoculars up to my eyes and trained them on Jenna’s house. We were going to catch a killer, whether Alec liked our tactics or not. And since I knew he wouldn’t like them, I hadn’t told him where I was going.

  I could see Jenna through the half shaded kitchen window. She was cooking at the stove. Then she stepped away from the stove and seemed to be dancing. Jenna was an odd duck.

  “Do you see anything?” Lucy asked.

  “Jenna is cooking dinner,” I answered.

  I trained the binoculars on the rest of her house. It looked like there was a light on in her living room, but the blinds were closed so I couldn’t see inside. I moved them to the rest of the house, but the other rooms were dark, with blinds pulled.

  “What about Phil?” Lucy asked.

  I trained the binoculars on Phil’s house. “No go. I can’t see a thing at his house. There’s a thin line of light around his living room window blinds and that’s it.”

  “I wonder if he ever found his dog,” she said.

  “I don’t know. I hope Jenna didn’t have anything to do with his dog going missing. I’d hate to think she could have hurt him, even if he was one of the most annoying animals on the face of the planet,” I said. “Keep an eye out for the police for me. I’d hate to have to explain to Sam Bailey why we were spying on people.”

  “I’m looking,” she said. “Maybe the dog just found a way to get out of that yard.”

  “Oh, hey, Phil’s coming out of his house,” I hissed. “Get down.”

  We slouched down in our seats. I doubted he could see us from where we were, but I would hate to have to explain myself to him, too. After a few seconds, I stuck my head up just high enough to see what he was doing. Phil got into his car and started it. His car was a black thirty-year-old Dodge Daytona and he sat and idled it for a few minutes, allowing it to warm up.