The Case of the Brokenhearted Bulldog

by B R Snow

  “Yeah, that’s what I told him,” John snapped. Then he softened immediately. “Sorry, I’m not taking it out on you. It’s just that with what happened to Roger and the Chief last night I’m on the razor’s edge. You know what I mean.”

  Josie and I both nodded.

  “Do the police have any idea who did it?” I said.

  “Not yet,” he said. “They’re still interviewing all the guests from last night. And you can expect a call from them at some point.”

  Again, we both nodded.

  “The scream we heard was from a woman,” I said.

  “Yeah,” John said. “But the police don’t necessarily think it was a woman who did it.”

  “Do they think the person who killed the engineer was also the one who attacked Jackson?” Josie said.

  “I think that’s their working theory for now. The assumption is that the Chief just happened to show up in the wrong place at the wrong time. And maybe the killer heard him coming and then surprised him from behind.”

  “What did Jackson get hit with?” I said, realizing that I hadn’t seen any weapon on the floor.

  “It was a wrench used to work on boat engines. It had gotten kicked or tossed into a corner. One of the cops found it last night.”

  We heard a soft knock on the door.

  “Come in,” John said.

  Alice, looking very much the worse for wear, entered and stood in front of the desk.

  “Sorry to interrupt, John,” she said. “But the police have a few more questions for you.”

  “Of course they do,” he said, rising out of his chair. “Ladies, I hope your day improves. And if you hear anything about Jackson, please let me know.”

  “Will do, John,” I said. “And thanks again for all you did for us.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said with a quick wave, then departed.

  Alice sat down between us and fiddled with her hands.

  “Are you okay?” Josie said.

  “No. What? Who me? Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Alice said, transitioning to full-on handwringing. “It’s just a lot to handle. If anything happened to Jackson, I don’t know what I’d do. I mean, obviously, something has already happened, but if he doesn’t come out of it okay… well, you know what I mean, right?”

  “Yes, we do,” I said.

  Then the waterworks arrived, and tears streamed down Alice’s face. My eyes also welled up, and I saw Josie wipe the side of her face with the back of her hand. We did our best to comfort Alice and eventually she stopped crying. She exhaled loudly, wiped her eyes dry, and then blew her nose.

  “I can’t wait to get out of here,” she said, shaking her head. “Florida sounds pretty good at the moment.”

  “What are you going to do once you get there?” I said.

  “I’m sure I’ll think of something,” she said, shrugging.

  Chapter 7

  Josie and I had met Detective Joe Abrams during the summer when he was investigating the murder of the candy magnate and his ex-wife. He was a no-nonsense cop who asked good questions, listened closely to your responses, and judging by the speed his pen was moving across the page, took excellent notes.

  Although I’d never really thought about it before I imagined the ability to take good notes was an important part of the job. As I watched him nod and furiously scribble into his notebook, I knew that if I tried to listen and write that fast, I wouldn’t be able to read a word later. Or remember anything I was told.

  I wondered if he always trusted himself to write in ink.

  I wondered if he might have minored in journalism in college.

  I wondered if cops ever learned how to take shorthand.

  I wondered if my answers to his questions were coming out as jumbled as my current thoughts.

  I was a mess and needed to get an update on Jackson’s condition soon, or I was going to lose it. We were told he was going in for a second surgery where the doctors would be trying to relieve some of the pressure on his brain.

  At the moment, Detective Abrams was sitting with Josie, Chef Claire, and me at our kitchen table drinking coffee. Sluggo was laying at Josie’s feet, breathing heavily and occasionally emitting the heartbreaking whimper we’d been hearing since the incident on the boat. Chloe was under the table with her head propped up on her two front paws keeping a close eye on Sluggo.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Detective Abrams said, glancing down at Sluggo.

  “Eventually, yes,” Josie said, stroking Sluggo’s head. “He’s just been traumatized.”

  Detective Abrams furiously scribbled a note.

  I couldn’t contain myself any longer.

  “Was that really worth writing down?” I snapped.

  Josie and Chef Claire stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “I beg your pardon,” Detective Abrams said, glancing up at me.

  “Josie’s last response didn’t sound very newsworthy. Can I ask you what you just wrote down?”

  He stared at me, then read from the page.

  “Sluggo. Bulldog. Traumatized since the attack. Pick up dog food. Remind Sue about tomorrow’s vet appointment.”

  He looked up and forced a small smile in my direction.

  “Happy?” he said.

  I felt my face turn red.

  “You’re conducting an interview and working on your to-do list at the same time?” I said.

  I had no idea why I felt the need to double down and poke a verbal stick at a cop.

  But in my defense, like I said earlier, I’m a total mess at the moment.

  “What can I say?” Detective Abrams said. “I’m a multitasker.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Josie said, snapping her fingers. “Sue Abrams is your wife? I knew the name sounded familiar, but I didn’t make the connection.”

  “Twenty-five years next month,” he said, beaming with pride.

  “Why does that name ring a bell?” I said.

  “Wally. The basset hound,” Josie said, laughing.

  “Oh, I love Wally,” I said.

  “Everybody loves Wally,” he said, smiling.

  “We’ve met at least three times in the past, Detective Abrams. Why didn’t you ever bother to tell us Wally was your dog?”

  “It was probably because I was always investigating a murder,” he said.

  He let his response hang in the air. Defeated, I tucked my verbal stick back in my mouth.

  “I guess you’ve got a point,” I whispered.

  Josie snorted.

  She has a tendency to do that whenever I make a fool of myself in public. I don’t think it’s one of her better qualities, but as my best friend in the world she can get away with it. Besides, I wasn’t in a position to make an issue of it at the moment.

  “So, let’s go through this one more time,” Detective Abrams said, transitioning from proud dog owner back into a cop. “We’ve confirmed that the two of you were on stage with John accepting the check when everyone heard the scream coming from the boat. And Chef Claire, you were behind the stage with the rest of the catering crew doing cleanup.”

  All three of us nodded.

  “And none of you saw or heard anything before the scream that indicated something might be amiss?” he said, pen poised at the ready.

  I wondered if he was expecting to hear an important piece of information that might help him crack the case or if he’d just remembered he needed to pick up milk on his way home.

  I kicked myself under the table and checked my phone for new messages.

  “No, I didn’t,” Chef Claire said.

  Josie shook her head.

  I flashed back to the conversation I’d seen John having with Captain Bill and the dead engineer, but I kept my mouth shut and shook my head.

  I wondered if perhaps I should have mentioned it.

  I wondered if John or Captain Bill had mentioned the conversation to Detective Abrams.

  I wondered if they hadn’t bothered to share that piece of information, why n
ot?

  I wondered how I could find out.

  “So, Detective Abrams, do you have a list of suspects yet?” I said.

  “Sure. After I cross the three of you off the list, I’ll be down to about a hundred and fifty,” he said, laughing.

  Every time I thought I’d come up with a reason not to like this guy, he took the air out of my balloon. He was a good man doing an incredibly difficult job and obviously very proud of the fact that he was about to celebrate his silver wedding anniversary. And he was a dog lover.

  I wondered what on earth was wrong with me.

  But I chalked it up to the current situation with Jackson and the fact that I was a complete mess.

  I think I may have mentioned that.

  He thanked us for our time and departed, pausing to reach down and pet Sluggo and Chloe before heading out the kitchen door. Chef Claire followed him out to head into town to do the grocery shopping. Josie and I decided to take Sluggo and Chloe for a walk. At first, Sluggo was reluctant to get up off the kitchen floor, but he seemed to perk up when the fresh air hit him. Chloe didn’t need any convincing, and she bounded down the steps and sat waiting for us slowpokes at the edge of the lawn.

  “You’ve got that look,” Josie said. “I’ve been wondering when it would show up.”

  “What look?” I said.

  “You know exactly what look I’m talking about,” she said. “It’s your I need to solve a mystery look.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said, glancing out at the River and fall foliage. Even seeing that gorgeous sight didn’t improve my mood. “But this is different. This one is personal.”

  “Yes, it is,” Josie said, nodding.

  “So where do we start?” I said, tossing a tennis ball for Chloe.

  “Probably the way we always do,” she said, laughing. “You know, muddle around and see what shakes out.”

  “You heard Detective Abrams. Anyone at the party could have done it. And maybe it was someone else altogether who wasn’t there.”

  “Why didn’t you mention the conversation you saw John having with the captain and engineer?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” I said. “Why didn’t you?”

  “I think I wanted first to find out if John had told the police about it.”

  “I thought the same thing,” I said.

  “And I think it’s possible that I was afraid to find out that John might somehow be involved,” Josie said.

  “You don’t think he could have killed that man and then done that to Jackson, do you?”

  “No, of course not,” she said. “But it’s possible that John does know who might have done it. And if that conversation has something to do with it, and if John didn’t tell the police about it, that would tell us a lot.”

  “It would, wouldn’t it?” I said.

  “I wonder if it would be possible to find out a bit more about this Captain Bill?” I said, glancing over at her as we continued to stroll across the lawn and past the flower beds that had looked fantastic only a few short weeks ago but had now given up the fight.

  “Yeah,” Josie said. “Something about him bothers me.”

  “And Alice said he and Roger the Engineer had been fighting the whole time on the way back from Montreal.”

  “And then John made that comment about how those two geniuses were somehow math challenged. What on earth did he mean by that?”

  “I have no idea,” Josie said, grabbing a Snickers bar from her coat pocket. “I imagine that building a yacht like that from scratch involves all sorts of math.”

  “And who is this mysterious owner in Florida? At the last minute, he decides to remodel the inside of the boat? Who does something like that?” I said, feeling the adrenaline start to flow.

  “The rich and finicky,” Josie said, laughing. “I thought you’d recognize that one right away.”

  “Leave my mother out of it,” I said, laughing along. “You know what we need to do, don’t you?”

  I came to a stop and whistled for Chloe.

  “Head back to the house and see what Chef Claire is making for dinner,” Josie said, swallowing the last bite of her Snickers.

  “Well, sure, that goes without saying,” I said, kneeling down to greet Chloe. “Good girl.”

  “And the other thing we need to do is ask John what he plans to do with all the granite and Black Ironwood he’s ripping out of the boat. Maybe he’ll sell it to us cheap. Imagine how good that would look in the kitchen.”

  I nodded. And that thought had already crossed my mind. It would look fantastic.

  “We can ask him,” I said. “And that would give us the perfect excuse to swing by his office and take another look around. I would love to get a good look at that boat. I’m betting it’s somehow at the center of this thing. That is unless Roger the Engineer got caught doing something he shouldn’t have,” I said, trying to sort through all the questions rolling around my head.

  “You mean like sleeping with the wrong person?” Josie said.

  “It has been known to happen,” I said.

  “Not to us,” Josie said, laughing.

  “Well, there’s always the possibility of hooking up with Summerman next summer, right?”

  “A lot of good that’s going to do me in February,” Josie said.

  I laughed so hard it startled Chloe. Even Sluggo looked up at me.

  “But I think you might be right,” I said. “We need to get a closer look at that boat.”

  “As long as it’s still a crime scene, we’ll never get anywhere near it,” Josie said, removing another Snickers from her pocket.

  “Maybe not during the day,” I said, then noticed the candy bar. “Really? You’re going to spoil your appetite.”

  Then I caught the blank stare she was giving me, and I shook my head.

  “Never mind. For a moment, I forgot who I was talking to.”

  And for the record, Chef Claire made a lobster mac and cheese that made our knees buckle.

  Josie, showing remarkable restraint, stopped at two servings. I’d made a silent vow to keep up with her and managed a tie. I probably could have forced down a third, but needed to save room for dessert.

  Chocolate-pistachio cannoli.

  Yeah, I know. Not bad for a Monday night dinner at home.

  And Chef Claire even made her own ricotta.

  I struggle just trying to get the store bought version out of the packaging.

  Final cannoli score: Josie, the Bottomless Pit, 5; Suzy, the Gluttonous Wonder, 2.

  Chapter 8

  By the time I’d finished taking a short nap after dinner and regained the ability to walk upright without groaning, it was almost midnight. I pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and a black sweater. I pinned my hair up and completed the outfit with a black wool ski hat I’d bought to wear whenever I went cross skiing in the winter. In all honesty, this was the first time I’d worn it since I tried it on at the store three years ago.

  I said I’d bought it to wear when I went. Maybe I should rephrase that to if I went. It’s been quite a while since I’ve made it out the door to trek through snowy woods with two long, narrow pieces of fiberglass strapped to my feet carrying poles that could poke an eye out. And the last time I’d gone cross country skiing, an old boyfriend laughingly remarked that I looked like a flamingo trying to twerk.

  We stopped dating soon after that.

  But the hat looked great on me.

  I headed for the living room and found Josie waiting for me. She was resplendent in a black track suit and lounging on the couch with Sluggo on one side and Chloe on the other. They were both sleeping, and Sluggo was snoring. I took that as a good sign although he still wasn’t eating. Josie glanced over her shoulder when she heard me come in.

  “Nice hat,” she said.

  “Thanks,” I said, then stopped when I saw what was in her hand. I shook my head and stared in disbelief at the cannoli. “Really?”

  “What can I say? Unlawful entry always makes
me hungry,” she said. “And it might be awhile before I get another shot at these. I doubt whatever jail we land in will have them on the menu.”

  “We are not going to jail,” I said.

  “Hmmm. If you say so,” Josie said, polishing off the last of the cannoli and getting up off the couch.

  “Do you think the dogs will be okay by themselves?” I said, stroking Chloe’s head.

  “Chef Claire got back about an hour ago and said she’d keep an eye on them,” Josie said, heading for the kitchen door. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

  We made the short drive into town and parked on the street a safe distance from the yacht. By safe, I mean far enough away to have plausible deniability should someone ever start asking questions.

  Fortunately, there was no moon, and it was very dark except for a solitary light at the top of a pole near the entrance to the dock.

  “Maybe we should have come in by boat,” Josie said, glancing up at the light.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But once we get away from that light, we should be okay.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” Josie said. “Why on earth did I agree to this?”

  “Shhh. Not so loud,” I whispered. “And we’re doing this for Jackson, remember?”

  “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s just get it done. I’m freezing.”

  I nodded. So was I. Although it was only late September, summer was long gone, and it wouldn’t be long before we had our first frost. If the temperature kept dropping, it could even happen tonight.

  We casually strolled past the light, then ducked under the yellow tape strung across the front of the dock. We tiptoed our way through the darkness, and soon we were standing in front of the stairway that led up to the yacht.

  “I guess that wasn’t so hard,” I said, already breathing heavily.

  “You really need to get to the gym, Suzy,” Josie said, chuckling softly.

  I bent at the waist and put my hands on my knees and managed to nod my head in agreement. I stood up and pointed at the stairway.

  “Wait,” Josie said. “What’s our cover story in case anybody sees us?”

  “I thought we went over that in the car,” I said, shaking my head.