The pit in my stomach grew as we reached the house. If Lisa didn't do it, and had already been cleared by the police, who did that leave as a suspect?
Me. It left me.
I knew I hadn't done it, but the police didn't know that. I felt like the walls were closing in on me and I had no idea how to escape.
I looked up at my whiteboard while Jasper gobbled down his food like he hadn't been fed in a week. I'd put a bowl of food out the front for Casper like I did every night in case she came back. Jasper would eat that later as well.
I shook my head and erased Lisa's face from the board. Then I scrubbed out the trophy and the prize money as well. All I had left was the drawing of Erika. That was it. I felt like I was back at square one.
"Maybe I should draw my own face up on the board," I half-joked. "Maybe I did it and just don't remember." I had been down at the clearing that day. And I did have a habit of being absentminded.
I shook my head vigorously. Come on, George! That is a crazier theory than anything else.
But I didn't have any more theories. Nada.
No clues. No leads. No Casper.
No prize at the festival. I hadn't even sold a single piece of jewelry. Not that Brenda would have put much energy into selling it for me while I was away, so it wasn't that surprising that I'd had every piece returned to me. Maybe she hadn't even put it out on display when I hadn't turned up. Any attempt by me to contact her the past day had gone completely ignored. She'd probably gotten news that I was a suspect and decided she no longer wanted anything to do with me.
I was sure that wouldn't stop her from working at the shop, though. Or running my craft circle.
I sighed and let Jasper outside so that he could use the bathroom before it was time for bed. "Maybe I should just give up, hey, Jasper?"
He made a whimpering sound.
"No, I don't mean give up on finding Casper," I said. "We're going to get her back, boy, don't worry about that."
A police car pulled up in front of my house, causing Jasper to bark wildly. "It's okay," I said, calming him. "It's just Ryan." Even though I was trying to remain calm for Jasper's sake, my heart was beating a little fast, thinking that maybe Ryan was there to arrest me. But I managed to glance at his face and there was a trace of an apologetic smile on it.
Ha. So he wasn't coming to arrest me. He was coming to apologize. That was almost even less welcome.
Luckily, I was doing my gardening, so I had an excuse not to look at him. The sun was out again and I had left Brenda in charge of the shop for the afternoon. "I think that would be for the best at the moment," she'd said, barely looking at me with her nose up in the air. "Considering your reputation in the town at the moment, people will probably feel safer with me in charge."
"Yes, because I might just start killing innocent people when they walk into the store," I'd said, causing Brenda to turn red. Oh well. It hadn't bothered me too much. I needed the afternoon off to recuperate, and my flowers needed watering.
And when I'd received a text from Brenda during the afternoon saying, "How dare you accuse Lisa! She had nothing to do with any of this!" I tried not to let that bother me either. Let the terrible twins have each other. I still had my dog.
I didn't even greet Ryan as he strolled up my garden path and stood beside me. I acted like he wasn't even there. I didn't like this side of me coming out, but I was still boiling mad with him, and I figured that the cold shoulder routine was at least a little better than screaming in his face. Or turning the hose on him.
Ryan sighed and took off his hat.
"So we're not friends anymore?" he asked.
"I just need to get these flowers watered," I said. "I'm a little busy right now, sorry. No time for a friendly chat."
He sighed again and moved a little closer to me. "I'm really, really sorry, George. I never wanted to be put in that position."
Just as I had started to soften a little with his apology, he had to end it like that. He was sorry 'he' was put in that position. What about me being put in that position?
I was acting like Lisa Riemer with her knitting, but for me, it was the hose instead of the yarn that suddenly needed all my intense attention while I did my best to block out the man standing beside me.
"George? Are you listening to me?"
"I can hear the words you are speaking," I said, finally acknowledging him a little. But clearly not in the way he wanted me to.
"You understand why I did what I did, don't you George? I didn't have a choice."
I turned the hose on and started watering the peonies, my back to him fully now. "Oh we're back to George now, are we? I thought it was Miss Holt. Or do you only call me that when you are interrogating me for murder."
"George, did you hear me? I didn't have a choice."
"Aren't there any other police officers in town? Or are there none with our 'close and personal' relationship? Is that it, Ryan?"
I finally turned to look at him, the hose spraying right into his face. He jumped out of the way, wiping the water off his face as he coughed and sputtered a little bit like he was choking on it. He dropped his hat to the ground.
"Sorry, that was an accident," I said without looking up at him. Kind of. Sort of.
I had to admit it was a little funny. I had to try hard not to laugh. That would only break the ice. And I wanted the ice to remain very much intact.
"Look," Ryan said with a heavy sigh as he dried his face with his sleeve. "I didn't want to tell you this because I didn't know if it was for certain yet, and I wanted to keep it close to my chest. Sort of like speaking it out loud might jinx it."
I turned the hose off. Okay, he kind of had my attention now. Kind of.
"Didn't want to tell me what?"
He cleared his throat and stood up straighter. "I've been trying to make detective. There’s a promotion up for grabs and it looks like I’m in the running."
I just stared at him and swallowed. I couldn't tell if he expected a congratulations from me or not. At any other time, I would have been thrilled for him. I knew how much he wanted to make detective. And he would make a really great one.
But what was he willing to give up to get the promotion? Our friendship? Because it sure as heck looked like he was willing to throw all that away for a chance at a higher salary and the chance to wear a suit to work.
"So that's why you did it, hey?" I asked, turning the hose back on, using all my focus to concentrate on the stream of water coming out of the hose. "Just to impress those that are higher up?"
"George, it's not like that."
"It is like that," I said flatly. "You couldn't turn down the chance to interview a murder suspect. Even if she was your friend. Even if she thought she actually meant something to you."
"George, you do mean something to me," Ryan said gently.
"That is very hard to believe right now," I said. "And for the record, you don't mean very much to me right now."
I knew immediately that was the wrong thing to say. I hadn't meant it, at least, not the harsh way it had come out. And I knew immediately from the way Ryan's voice changed—no longer soft—that he had taken it very wrong indeed.
"Look, the only reason you ever became a suspect at all is because you kept sticking your nose into the case," Ryan said, sounding grumpy for the first time. "If you'd just stayed out of it and minded your own business, none of this would have happened."
I shook my head and turned the hose off. I was in danger of actually drowning the flowers if I continued. There was only so much water they could take.
"Look," Ryan said, sighing again. "I don't think this conversation has gone very well. I came here to apologize and..."
"I'm going to put all my energy into finding Casper from this point forward," I said. "So you don't have to worry about me getting in your way, or screwing with your investigation any further."
"Okay," Ryan said slowly. "Do you want me to help?" he asked hopefully.
I switched the hose on again even t
hough I knew I shouldn’t. My poor flowers. "No, thanks," I said. "I’ll be fine on my own."
It was time to double down my efforts. I was going to get Casper back or die trying. It was all that mattered to me anymore.
New posters, new fliers, and a new attitude.
This time when I put up new signs, I offered a cash reward. I decided to offer not only a reward if she was found, but also for any information that would lead to her coming home. Even if they'd only had a sighting. It would all be worth it. I needed any and all leads if I was going to find her.
And that was when the calls starting rolling in.
Chapter 9
I felt like I was operating a full-time switchboard. I practically needed an employee to help me. Actually, I did need an employee to help me take the calls.
Even though she was still being snobby toward me, there was one person in Pottsville who was always there in an emergency when I needed her. Plus, she already worked for me. And she was already in the shop.
"Thank you, Brenda, I really appreciate this," I said to her once she'd answered her twelfth call of the day.
She pushed her glasses back on her nose. "I care about that little dog as well, you know. She was Amanda's dog originally."
Amanda and Brenda had been good friends before Amanda's death. Well, that was what Brenda always said. I saw them together one time and they didn't seem all that close. But they had been neighbors and I guess that counted for something.
"That doesn't mean I don't appreciate the help," I said.
"I would do this to help Amanda, if no one else."
Well, at least she was doing it to help someone. It didn't really matter who, as long as we got Casper back. I finally felt like we had some hope of doing just that. All we had to do was not give up.
Most of the calls were junk, just people looking for a quick buck. "See, I told you this would happen if I offered a cash reward," I said to Brenda, but she had the phone to her ear and held up her other hand for me to be quiet.
"Really? You spotted a small white terrier. Was she wearing a collar?" Brenda waited a moment for the answer while I waited with bated breath.
"Who is it? What did they say?" I whispered. Brenda shushed me and hung up the phone, staring at me. "You're not going to believe this," she said. "Some guy who lives in the house next to the Pink Flamingo Lodge just called up. He says he saw your dog a week ago right before Erika's body was found."
It was a day after the Pottsville Arts and Crafts Festival had officially ended, but the Pink Flamingo Lodge still had a "No Vacancies" sign flashing.
Brenda trailed behind me as we walked past the lodge and found the address she had been given over the phone. It was a cabin not that dissimilar to Patty's, only it was on the other side of town, far closer to my house, making it far more likely that Casper had actually ended up here.
"Do you know who lives here?" I whispered to Brenda.
She looked up at the cabin and frowned. "A long time ago a man named Joe lived here, but I would be surprised if he was still alive."
Joe ended up answering the door and Brenda looked very surprised indeed. She blinked a few times. "A man named Martin called us. About a dog?"
Old Joe coughed and nodded. "That was my son. I can't figure out how to make phone calls these days." His voice sounded rough, like it had endured years of smoking. "I was the one that spotted the dog, though." He looked at me sharply. "You got the cash?"
"I've got the cash if you've got the info," I said, raising my eyebrow. "Did you really see my dog last week?"
Old Joe cleared his throat again and nodded. "I did," he whispered, his eyes wide open. "Your little dog was with a girl." There was a frightened look in his eyes.
I looked at Brenda and then back at Joe. "What girl?"
"That dead girl," he whispered.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. "Erika Joyce, you mean? The woman who was killed here a week ago?"
He nodded. "I saw her with a small white dog. Looked exactly like the one in your photo. She was acting like it was her own dog though, walking it on a leash and everything."
I shook my head. "No, that can't be right. Erika was only visiting from out of town. She wouldn't have had a dog with her; she was staying at the Pink Flamingo. They don't allow dogs in the lodge."
Unless....
Unless that was the reason she'd been turned away from the Pink Flamingo.
"I have to go," I said abruptly. "Thank you for all your help, Joe."
"Hey!" he called out, spluttering as I ran away. "What about my reward?"
I was glad Jasper wasn't with me, knowing what the owners of the lodge did with people who had pets with them—throw them onto the street to fend for themselves by the sounds of it. There was a fresh, handwritten sign on the window that hadn't been there the first time I'd visited. "No pets allowed—no exceptions!" Yikes.
It might have been a fresh note, but it was the same receptionist I'd spoken to the last time who now greeted me from behind the desk, the one who had taken my name and number in case they'd gotten any vacancies. I assumed that piece of paper ended up in the trash.
This time she was wearing a name tag. Leanne. Good to know.
I decided that I would try and catch flies with honey and be as nice to her as possible, even though the last time we'd met we hadn't gotten along too well.
"Good afternoon, Leanne" I said brightly. "I see that you are still overflowing with guests."
"Fancy seeing you here again." She turned her nose up at me and returned to the magazine she had been reading. "We've still got no openings, I'm afraid. Check the sign."
Yes, yes, the lodge was very popular. There was no denying that. But I had far more serious things to discuss than a vacant room. I pretended to be sorely disappointed. "Aww, that's too bad. I was hoping that I might be able to spend a night here before I leave town. I've only heard good things."
She looked at me skeptically. "Well, I've still got your name and number, but I wouldn't go holding your breath. This is our busiest time of year."
I fumbled with some business cards sitting on the desk, glancing around and trying to figure out my next plan of attack. "So no more troublesome guests?" I asked casually.
She glanced up at me from her magazine. "No. We've been very careful to check that." She stopped talking suddenly and blushed a little.
"Careful to check what?" I asked. Check for pets? Why hadn't she finished her sentence?
Leanne didn't answer me. She returned instead to her magazine and tried to pretend like I wasn't there.
"You never told me why Erika got thrown out that day she was killed."
Leanne stood up and gave me a cold stare. "Because that is none of your business." She put the magazine down and looked me up and down. "I don't know why you would care."
"Because my dog went missing that night," I said, hearing an air of desperation creeping into my voice. "And I think that Erika might have had her. Please. I am only trying to find my dog. I don't care about anything else."
Her face softened and she put down the magazine. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said softly. "It's horrible to lose a pet. Was she...was she a little white thing? Fluffy?"
I nodded. "Yes. Did you see her?"
Leanne sighed. "I saw her. But she was with that girl. I assumed it was her dog."
"Erika?" I asked, desperate to know. "Erika Joyce? The woman who was killed."
Leanne still didn't seem sure whether she should answer or not. Like if she said too much it might incriminate her or something.
My blood suddenly ran cold. Maybe Leanne had been the one who'd killed Erika.
I'd always had this strange feeling Erika's death and Casper's disappearance had been linked. Maybe Leanne had been so angry about the unwanted guest in the room that she had lost her temper with Erika.
But surely Leanne wouldn't kill over an unwanted dog in her lodge? Would she? No matter how much it shed? Besides, I brushed Casper every day so s
he hardly had any loose hair anyway. And I bathed her once a week, so she wouldn't have stunk up the room.
"Is that why Erika got thrown out? Because she had a dog staying in her room with her?"
Leanne finally let the words fly out and they hit me like a storm in the face. "I wasn't having some mangy dog stay in my hotel! Not when I was about to have a hundred tourists flock to the town!"
I took serious offense to her words. "Casper is not mangy. How dare you call her that!"
Leanne took a deep breath and calmed down a little. "I'm sure you take very good care of your dog," she said, a little more gently. "And I'm sure she is a perfectly sweet dog. I wish no harm on her. I just didn't want her staying at my lodge."
I cleared my throat. "And you have every right to decide that. It is your business, after all." I looked at her pleadingly. "But after Erika left and she took Casper with her, what happened?"
Leanne shrugged. "I don't know. I never saw either of them again. I'm sorry."
So Erika had found Casper, had her with her right before she'd died... Maybe even while she'd been killed.
None of this made me feel any better. Not one little bit. It only made me feel worse. Casper might have been found by a kind woman, and she might have even been intending to return her to me.
But Erika was gone. It didn't matter how well she had taken care of Casper, she wasn't around to look after her anymore.
So who had Casper now?
"Any luck?" Brenda asked as I swung back into the shop.
I shook my head and rested it in the palm of my hand as I leaned against the counter. "Nope. I'm starting to feel more dejected than ever about the whole thing."
Brenda sprayed some cleaning fluid and wiped the counter. "I'm sorry," she said. "I really thought that phone call from Joe was going to lead somewhere."
"It did," I said with a heavy sigh. "It's just that it didn't lead where I wanted it to is all."
Brenda reached out and patted me on the back, much to my surprise. "Don't give up hope just yet, Georgina. There's still hope." It was the kindest she had ever been to me and I felt tears spring to my eyes. I quickly wiped them away before she noticed.
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