Odds Against (Margot and Odds Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Audrey Claire

  Margot reluctantly agreed Lara appeared to be a model employee if a tad gossipy, which had worked in Margot’s favor. “I’m sure the police will find out who did this, and you can get closure.”

  “Yes.”

  Waiting for more of a comment was fruitless, and Margot gave up. She pointed at the snacks beneath the glass. “Do cats like those treats?”

  Pamela perked up. “Yes, they love them. They are fresh made by a local baker. If you like, I can let Odds taste a piece.”

  Margot smiled. “Yes! Thank you. Do you hear that, Odds? You’re getting a treat.”

  She raised him out of the bag and put him on the counter while Pamela retrieved the treat. For some reason, he seemed less than enthusiastic. She peered into his face and sensed his mood.

  “Don’t sulk, Odds.”

  He ignored her, but as soon as Pamela brought out a treat, he stood and turned toward her. His tail whipped back and forth, and he sniffed the air.

  Meow!

  “Oh, dear.” Margot laughed. “He’s demanding now.”

  Pamela held out the treat in her palm. Odds, the silly cat, sniffed at her fingertips.

  “In the center, Odds,” Margot encouraged him.

  He found the treat and nabbed it. Margot had wondered if he would eat the treat since he didn’t like cat food. He only ate human food.

  “There’s catnip in the recipe,” Pamela said, looking at Odds. She flipped the package over to show the ingredients. The design and layout were simple yet professional, and Margot imagined an elderly lady who loved her cats making the treats with all fresh ingredients. That might be why Odds hadn’t turned his nose up. That and the catnip, of course.

  “How much for one bag?” Margot asked.

  Pamela named the price, and Margot was happy to know it wouldn’t break her budget. She purchased two bags instead and then placed a flyer on the pegboard. Even if someone saw it and called, she could say she had reached her limit. She had named the ideal area for walking, so it was also possible she could gain a client or two that she could accept.

  Margot left the center and headed back toward the bus stop. Odds elected to walk on the ground alongside her, and she contemplated how to learn Zabrina’s secret.

  Chapter Twelve

  Margot trundled along behind the dogs as they traversed the park. She sighed, feeling a tad lonely since Odds had elected to stay home. While Frankie yipped and jumped at every distraction, Margot contemplated the case.

  Had Zabrina been in her apartment, or did it have to do with Charles Olsen? Peter seemed to question a connection. He hadn’t said so, and she hadn’t been able to talk to him directly after he visited her apartment.

  Frankie barked and jumped into the air. She glanced above to the trees to see birds zipping from branch to branch. “You’ll never get that high, Frankie. They’re only going to keep teasing you.”

  The dog wouldn’t listen, and Margot’s arm began to ache more. She’d been using her left since the injury, which made her task harder.

  “Time for a break.” She didn’t know why she was speaking out loud at all. Talking to the dogs was not like talking to Odds. Margot found a bench, tied the leashes at the end, and sat down. Only after she stretched out her legs did she realize she had chosen the area where Charles Olsen had died.

  Even from Margot’s position, she saw the deep toe prints of the dogs all over the place. The dears really had trampled Peter’s crime scene. She wondered how he had been able to gather evidence at all. Then a thought struck her. What if there had been more evidence, and the dogs had buried it?

  “No, they didn’t do any digging, or I would have noticed,” she mused. “Aside from that, there would be evidence of the dig because from what she had seen of her little group they were not subtle. “Frankie?” Margot called.

  The little dog’s ears twitched. He kept watching the birds.

  “Frankie, did you take evidence from the crime scene?”

  Margot could imagine Odds’ sassy remark about whether she believed Frankie would answer. She had to admit to herself it would have been more entertaining if Frankie did speak. At least if he did, it would mean a consistency to her craziness.

  Margot loosened the leashes and extended them as far as they would go. The dogs tramped all around the dirt and grass, sniffing the ground. She waited and watched, but no new discoveries surfaced.

  “Well that’s a disappointment,” she muttered. “I suppose we better get going.”

  Frankie started to growl, and the other two dogs joined in. Margot followed the small dog’s line of sight, but in the shadows of the trees, she couldn’t see clearly. Was someone standing behind one of the trees?

  Margot stood. “I-Is someone there?”

  Her heartbeat picked up, and she struggled to her feet. Rather than risk falling with Frankie worked into tizzy, she tied the dogs again and walked along the path. Scanning the area, Margot saw no one nearby, but there were plenty of people in the park. Any one of them would hear if she shouted for help.

  “Stay calm, Margot.”

  She wobbled along the path, wanting to run back to the dogs, but she kept them in sight. Behind the tree was a grove of bushes, which shaded the area even more, and Margot thought it looking quite spooky.

  Just a few more yards, and the spot behind the tree would come into view. “H-hello?” Margot called out again. Was she being silly?

  She took another step. Something rustled in the bushes. She squeaked and froze. Frankie barked louder, and when Margot glanced back at him, he was jumping and flipping like a little circus animal. She straightened her shoulders and moved on along the path. The area behind the tree came into view.

  Nothing.

  Margot blew out a breath and brushed the dampness on her forehead away. “I am the silliest woman in New York.”

  She laughed as she walked over to the tree. This was what happened when she thought too much about murder and mayhem. No, she needed to live a quiet and calm life, befitting a woman of her age. Maybe she should take up a hobby like learning to knit. Would anyone pay for knitted blankets?

  She reached the tree as she contemplated the hobby and profitability, but then all thoughts drained from her mind as she saw what was in the dirt. Footprints—specifically, the print narrowed at the front, disappeared in the middle, to reappear with a small round print at the back.

  “A woman!”

  Margot’s head spun. She flapped a hand before her face and took deep breaths. With her eyes shut and being so upset, the dogs’ barking bothered her even more. In fact, it sounded closer. She looked around the way she came. Frankie led the charge, coming to her rescue. Or maybe just coming period.

  “No, Frankie, stay there,” Margot called, but he didn’t listen, and neither did his cohorts. Margot must look a sight as she leaned down, trying to block the dogs’ path. They bounded past her into the spot behind the tree, barking excitedly. “Bad dog, Frankie!”

  His paws fit right into center of the muddy print, and with multiple leaps onto the tree trunk as if he expected to find the bad guy on a limb, he obscured the print completely. Margot grasped each leash and worked to get the dogs calm. Then she herded them back the way they came.

  * * * *

  “I think I should tell Peter,” Margot said.

  Nancy rung her hands and paced her living room. “But we don’t know who was behind that tree.”

  “We know it was a woman, and you said yourself Zabrina returned just after the time I mentioned it happened.” Margot’s feet were cocooned in warmth inside a basin set out for her. Nancy had included Epsom salt, which she said would take away the soreness. So far, Margot found she was right.

  “It could have been one of those perverted men who I’ve heard flash women. They wear trench coats, and they don’t have underpants on beneath them.”

  Margot cringed. “Is that real?”

  “Yes, it’s real. It happens here in New York.”

  “Well, it’s not a man, Na
ncy. I told you as soon as I came in that the prints were from a woman’s shoes. Heels to be exact. Unless the perverted men wear women’s shoes, it’s a woman.”

  Nancy gave her an apologetic look, and Margot shivered. She refused to even think what her friend implied. How could it be true? Had she been that sheltered to think she loved a city where such nonsense occurred? Sure, she had seen some interesting sights since she began taking public transportation, but Nancy’s claims seemed too much for her mind to grasp.

  “I think you should just ask Ms. Zabrina,” Kenny said.

  Nancy gave him a stern look, and he fell silent. Margot waved her pen at him. “See, Nancy, Kenny agrees.”

  “Kenny is a good boy,” Nancy said, “but he’s young, and he doesn’t understand. Margot, we must protect our own. I like Peter the same as you, but he is the police. We can’t just turn Zabrina over to him.”

  “I’m not suggesting we turn her over.” Margot scratched down her request for the store, and handed Kenny his list back. “I’m worried. I want to know the truth, but I don’t want to make it worse for us either. Someone was watching me.”

  Nancy huffed. They continued to disagree half the night until Margot decided to return to her apartment. She was surprised Odds didn’t add much to the conversation, and when she questioned him, he remained silent.

  The next morning, Margot woke to shouting in the hallway. She scrambled from her bed, stuffed her feet into her slippers, and ran out to the living room. With an ear pressed to the door, she listened and heard Zabrina’s voice.

  “Oh, dear, don’t tell me Nancy confronted her.”

  Margot hurried down to the first floor as fast as her legs would carry her. Zabrina stood in the hall outside Nancy’s apartment. Just as Margot worried, they argued.

  “I don’t have to answer to you, old lady,” Zabrina snapped.

  Nancy reared back, hand to her throat. “I’ve never been so insulted.” Tears wet her lashes.

  “Ladies,” Margot called as she descended the last couple of steps, winded. She paused to draw in a couple calming breaths and noted irrelevantly that the stairs were much easier than they were when she first moved in “Please, stop fighting.”

  Zabrina turned angry eyes in Margot’s direction, and Margot saw the hesitance. Was it guilt, she wondered that made Zabrina do a double take?

  “All I asked her was if she was the one to break into your apartment, Margot,” Nancy said. “There was no need to shout at me.”

  “Of course, dear,” Margot said, patting her back. Nancy clutched her hands together and blinked rapidly.

  “And I said what I do has nothing to do with anyone living here,” Zabrina said.

  “We’ve always tried to include you. Why when I throw my parties, I always invite you, but you never come.” Nancy’s voice held obvious hurt, but Margot didn’t think Zabrina cared. She seemed to be a cold person by nature and had no affinity for any of the residents of their building.

  “I didn’t ask to be invited to your parties.”

  Margot had had enough. “Did you ask to come into my apartment?”

  Zabrina folded her arms over her chest.

  “Or into Mr. Sandifer’s?” Nancy added.

  This time, Zabrina paled. “You told her?”

  Margot raised her chin. “Why shouldn’t I have? Nancy is my friend, and you could be a friend if you didn’t sneak around breaking into people’s apartments.”

  Zabrina scanned the hall. She looked at Nancy. “Do you mind if we talk inside your apartment?”

  Nancy’s pout turned into a beam. Margot had learned from the first day she met her Nancy was an easy person to please. She loved people and wanted to be accepted. “Of course. Come in, dear. You’ve never been inside. Would you like a cup of coffee? Some cake? I’ve got—”

  “No!”

  At Nancy’s start, Zabrina tried for a calmer tone. “That is, no thank you. I don’t want anything.”

  They walked inside Nancy’s apartment, and Zabrina shut the door, standing near it. Margot noticed the gloves were back in place. “First of all, I didn’t go inside your apartment.”

  Nancy pursed her lips as if in disbelief.

  “True.”

  Margot glanced down at Odds, who had appeared from out of nowhere. She hadn’t seen him all day, but since she was used to his wandering off on his own, she hadn’t panicked.

  “Odds believes you,” Margot said. She felt comfortable admitting it because the little cat sat before Zabrina, swishing his tail back and forth.

  Zabrina cast him a look of dislike. “I don’t need a cat’s validation.”

  “Odds is very intelligent,” Nancy defended. “What about Mr. Sandifer? Margot saw you go into his apartment.”

  “Just like everyone has seen you go into other people’s apartments.”

  Nancy’s face flamed.

  “Where I go has nothing to do with any of you, and I’ll thank you not to gossip about what you think you saw, Margot.”

  “What I think—I know what I saw!”

  Zabrina stepped away from the door toward her. Nancy and Margot stumbled back, and Nancy clutched Margot’s arm. A small whimper escaped her. Margot looked at Odds who had moved to one of the chairs and curled into a ball. She patted Nancy’s arm to comfort her.

  “Don’t always believe what you see right in front of you,” Zabrina said, and with that she left Nancy’s apartment and shut the door behind her.

  Nancy turned to Margot, her eyebrows knitted together over her eyes. “What do you think she meant by that?”

  Margot considered it. “I don’t know. If we apply it to her, I’d think she meant we shouldn’t believe what we’ve always been told about Zabrina.”

  Nancy’s countenance clouded with more confusion. “What’s that?”

  “That she’s afraid of germs. She touched that doorknob, Nancy, and even after she realized, she didn’t seem bothered by it. That means there’s another reason she wears gloves.”

  “Maybe her fear comes and goes?”

  Odds yawned. “Don’t make this one your partner in solving crimes.”

  “Shush, Odds.”

  Nancy pouted. “He didn’t like my idea, did he?”

  Margot shook her head. “Do you believe Odds talks, Nancy?”

  “Why not? You do, and it’s fun to think so, isn’t it?” She smiled at Odds, who blinked at her.

  “Sometimes,” Margot agreed. She studied Odds. A few other times he had told her when he knew someone was lying. Once he’d pointed out that there was a physical sign that was the tell, but not this time. Maybe he had different ways of knowing. “Odds?”

  He made a funny noise in the back of his throat. Margot walked over to him and moved close to his face so he couldn’t ignore her. His ears twitched, and his tail whipped back and forth.

  “Odds, do you know who was in my apartment that night?”

  Nancy gasped but froze in place, listening.

  “The woman behind the tree, was she the same one in my apartment?”

  Odds stood and stretched. He winked sleepy eyes at Margot, and she held her breath, nervous he wouldn’t answer, terrified he would.

  “Yes.”

  Her head spun. “Yes, what?”

  Nancy let out a sharp squawk and clutched the front of her housedress in trembling hands.

  “Yes, I know who was in your apartment, and yes, it was the same person behind the tree.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Peter coughed. Nancy sat in silence, her eyes wide and staring at the floor. Margot squirmed in her armchair. Odds had leaped to Peter’s shoulder as usual and hadn’t spoken a word since Margot had rushed to call Peter and demanded he come to Nancy’s apartment right away. Perhaps they had been too hasty.

  “Can you tell me again why I’m here, Margot?” Peter asked with strained patience. She didn’t blame him. “I think I might not have heard you correctly. On the phone, you said you have information about my case.”

  Ma
rgot couldn’t make herself repeat the part about Odds. She had mumbled that he’d spoken to her, but Peter hadn’t quite heard. She just couldn’t admit it again. To have Peter of all people look at her like she was fit for the funny farm, no she didn’t want that. Oh why didn’t she think before she’d called him all excited?

  “Where are my manners, Peter,” Nancy said. “Would you like—”

  “Nancy,” Peter warned, and she gulped. Margot thanked her with a look for her attempt to help.

  “Margot, was this an attempt to get my attention?” Peter said gently. Shame washed over her, and her cheeks burned.

  “Of course not, Peter! How ridiculous. I simply thought you should know—”

  “Yes?”

  “Um…” She looked at Odds. He purred, rubbing his silly head against Peter’s hair. Peter absently tickled behind his ears. Margot frowned.

  “I think maybe Lara, the young woman who works at the bakery, has been following me.”

  To his credit, Peter didn’t look at her as if she were crazy. “Why do you believe this?”

  “Because there were prints behind the tree, but Frankie smeared them.”

  Confusion colored Peter’s expression. “What tree, and who is Frankie?”

  “The tree in the park. A dog.”

  He lifted Odds down from his shoulder and set him on the floor. Odds yowled in protest. Margot wanted so much to ask Odds to give her details, but she couldn’t do it in front of Peter. Instead she tried staring at Odds and willing him to speak to her. He stared back, blank-faced. Margot just knew he was behaving this way on purpose.

  “Margot, do me a favor?” Peter asked, folding his arms over his chest.

  “Sure, dear, whatever you like.” She tried sounding calm, but her nerves were rattled. She wanted to tell him there had been a big mistake, but he was here. She probably dragged him away from another case that was just as important.

  “Explain everything you were thinking when you called me, and by all means, speak in complete sentences.”

  She moaned. “All right.”