He paused without finishing that thought, but I knew what it was. “I’m so sorry, Harris,” I said, half driven to walk over and give him a hug. But that wouldn’t really be appropriate, and it might make him stop talking.
He resettled himself in his chair, straightening his back as if gathering his courage to go on. Finally, he did. “The Emporium was successful before I lost her, and we got even more customers for a while after she was gone. Maybe some were curious … I don’t know. But then things started quieting down a bit, and Jack happened to come by again on a day I was particularly worried about my store’s future. That’s why I started carrying VimPets products, even though Myra had been against it before. But Jack promised that VimPets would promote the Emporium and they did, and business actually started picking up again.”
Still not wanting to interrupt, but hoping to encourage Harris to continue, I made a small, happy noise at the back of my throat. It was enough to stimulate Biscuit to stand up on her hind legs and put her front paws on my thigh. I petted her but kept looking at Harris.
He smiled slightly toward my dog and then, fortunately, began speaking again. “I don’t want to get into a lot of detail now, but I hated what happened. Things were going okay, and then Wanda arrived a week or so ago. She came to see me, congratulated me on my success—and told me she needed my help, which kind of puzzled me at first, until I realized the help she wanted was to ruin Jack.”
I nodded, again saying nothing.
Harris ran one hand through his hair as if in utter exasperation. “She threatened me. Threatened my shop. She said she would go public with a lie—that I was taking the high quality dry pet foods we sell here and adulterating them with fillers, like the cheap, crappy food from some really inferior mass marketers, and then resealing each of the bags. Plus, she threatened to say that I took empty bags of the good stuff and poured equal amounts of good and bad food into them, and sealed them as well. But she’d never make any of these claims if I went along with her to hurt Jack.”
I felt my eyes widen in sympathy. “What—”
But he was on a sad, angry roll and didn’t stop this time. “She said that the more I protested that she was wrong about me adulterating the food, the more publicity the whole scandal would get. And if I wanted to keep it all from happening, I had to lie the way she told me. She wanted me to tell the VimPets people that Jack had proposed tainting some of their food that way. He supposedly told me that I could then sell their products for the same amount of money and make a higher profit, and he’d want a percentage of the increase.”
“What did you do?” I exclaimed. Surely this was a no-win situation.
Or had it become a motive for murder … ?
“I told her no. I let a few of my family members know what she’d threatened—well, maybe I ranted about it to them while I tried to figure out what to do—and they agreed I’d better not do what she said. I tried to warn Jack, tell him what she was up to since she might have been doing it with other retailers who sold VimPets products, but Jack started off on his own rant about Wanda, so I just shut up. I was about to call the VimPets execs—but that was when Wanda died.”
So he’d really had a motive—and that was why Les, and the other Ethmans, had wanted me to look elsewhere if I decided to try to solve Wanda’s murder. They were worried about Harris, because of his anger against the woman who had died, but they believed in him, knew he wouldn’t do it—maybe. Yet they, too, or at least Les, were willing to commit bribery or extortion to get me to zero in on someone else as the killer. Someone like Jack.
“That’s all horrible,” I commiserated with Harris.
His return smile this time was heartrending. “I knew you’d probably be looking into what happened to her, especially since you did such a good job before. And I know my family’s concerned about me. I told myself to keep quiet, not let you in on any of this, since the only two people who knew all the details were Wanda and me. But I’d talked to my family, hinted about it to Jack—and, anyway, I knew you’d decide somehow that I was a suspect. Better to let you know the truth. And now, here’s the last thing I want to say about it.”
He paused, obviously wanting me to ask.
“What’s that?”
“I hated that woman, mistrusted her, had a motive, and all that. But Carrie, you can be certain of one thing.”
I knew what was coming but had to repeat, “And what’s that?”
“I did not kill Wanda Addler.”
So did I believe him?
My mind churned round and round about the discussion with Harris as Biscuit and I walked slowly back to the shops. At least I walked slowly. Biscuit did her usual thing of sniffing a lot, especially along the grassy edge of the town square, but she still seemed in more of a hurry than I did. The air was a touch chilly now, but I nevertheless felt too warm.
I wanted to get my mind around all Harris had said.
I found myself smiling distractedly at people walking by, especially those holding dog leashes with canines of all sizes attached. Some locals I knew even said hi, and I greeted them, too, but without stopping to talk.
Had Harris and I actually had a discussion? No. Harris had ejected some pretty emotional thoughts from his mind, and all I’d done was encourage him to continue.
But had it all been the truth? Particularly the last thing he’d said? Was he innocent of Wanda’s murder despite his admission of a darned good reason to get rid of her—like potential ruination of his own reputation and his store?
He certainly remained among the people I would consider suspects. What should I do now?
I’d already talked with Billi enough to figure that the likelihood of her having killed Wanda was slim. But I hadn’t yet spent much time quizzing—or listening to—Jack.
Dinah had, of course, but I doubted her conversation with him had convinced her one way or the other about his innocence—although I would ask her about it further.
I really needed to talk to Jack myself. Soon. Maybe even get his ideas, now that a few days had passed, about other possible suspects in his coworker’s murder. He surely wouldn’t admit to doing it, and I hoped he wouldn’t try to pin it all on Billi, whom he’d been dating.
Anyone else—besides Harris? Not that I was eliminating him. But I really hoped there were other possibilities, assuming I wasn’t totally wrong, and that I should zero in on someone in my core group of suspects.
Maybe I could even get Jack’s thoughts on it tonight, before Reed and I had dinner.
Biscuit and I had reached the sidewalk in front of my shops. I peeked in the windows and was glad to see that both were filled with customers, and my assistants appeared to have everything under control.
That gave me the leeway to duck to the side of the first of the stores we’d come to, the Barkery. I stopped near the wall, even as Biscuit again started pulling on her leash. This was a sort of emergency, so I dug into my purse and pulled out two tiny treats. “Sit, Biscuit,” I told her, and she obeyed immediately, which she undoubtedly would have even without the bribe. “Stay,” I added, then gave her the treats.
Even though she gobbled them fast, the distraction had slowed her down and she started to sniff the dirty pavement beneath us.
The next thing I pulled from my purse was my phone.
How should I handle this? I didn’t want to call Reed and tell him I might be late to dinner, or a no-show, if I happened to reach Jack and he agreed to meet with me.
I turned to face the street and watched the traffic roll by as I considered what to do. Who to call. What to say to whom.
Although … Well, Reed and I had reached an understanding of sorts. And the likelihood of reaching him was slight anyway, since he was still on duty at the clinic.
Even after all my pondering, I called Reed first—and was relieved when I was right and he didn’t immediately answer. So I left a m
essage. “I learned some interesting things today,” I said, “and yes, I was careful.” I wasn’t going to tell him I’d planned the stop at the Emporium before leaving my shift, since I hadn’t mentioned it at the time, although I’d admit to it later if he asked. “I might need to do something before we get together for dinner tonight,” I went on. “I’ll let you know.” And then I hung up.
Next, I called Jack, whose number was also programmed into my phone. He answered right away.
Now, what would work best for chatting with him?
A drink was always a good idea.
“Hi, Jack,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“I figured. Your buddies the detectives have been thinking about me, too. Hounding me—and as an animal lover and employee of a pet food company, I use that word in both its contexts.”
I laughed, then said, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. And, yes, some of it’s about the murder. I’m being a bad girl and looking into it despite the controversy about that.”
“Oh, it’s fine with me, as long as you don’t get hurt,” he said, somewhat latching on to the position Reed had convinced himself to take.
“Then you’re willing to talk to me about it? Be my sounding board?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
For Reed not to explode about the idea—and, actually, for my own peace of mind and potential safety—I knew what the best idea was: to meet in public, and probably not alone with Jack despite my need to talk with him. The best place would be the one that was becoming my daily habit recently: the resort where my brother worked.
But it was also where the Ethmans, or at least some of them, hung out.
Well, at least Les and I were still speaking to one another, and I could tell him my side of it later—or at least what I wanted him and the rest of his family to know about my skepticism.
“Let’s grab a drink this evening at the Knobcone Heights Resort bar,” I said. “About six thirty, after I’ve closed my shops?” The bar was usually busy enough then that, though we’d find a table, the undercurrent of conversation would keep what we said to one another fairly private.
“Sounds good. See you then.”
I confined Biscuit in the Barkery as usual when I entered, and she seemed happy since several customers had their friendly pups along to trade nose sniffs with her. I waved hi to Janelle, who was waiting on some customers, and scooted through the door into the kitchen, heading for my office.
After leaving my purse in a drawer, I’d barely put my phone in my pocket when it vibrated. I didn’t really need to look to see who it was—although I looked anyway.
“Hi, Reed.” I kept my tone light despite feeling my shoulders cringe as I awaited a scolding.
“You’re at it again. Still.” But he didn’t sound angry or unhappy, just maybe a bit resigned, which was a good thing.
“That’s right. And—well, I need to grab a drink with Jack before I head to your place tonight. We’re meeting at the resort. Care to join us?” Again, I cringed as I waited for his reply.
“Of course,” he said, as if I needn’t have asked. I gave him the particulars, checked the time on my phone—which indicated the meeting was only a couple hours away—and we worked out the details of getting together there.
I realized that shouldn’t be the end of who I notified, either—but I didn’t call Neal. Instead, after washing my hands, I returned to the Barkery and watched Janelle end a transaction by handing a full bag of treats, plus change, to her customer and cordially inviting the twenty-something mom of both a human child and a pug to come back soon.
Then, before Janelle headed for one of the other two customers currently examining the contents of our display case, I motioned for her to join me near where Biscuit was waiting.
“Are you getting together with Neal tonight?” I asked.
“Don’t know yet.” Her brow lowered in a frown, as if she expected me to tell her to back off, and I laughed.
“I don’t want to bother him at the reception desk right now, but if you talk to him, let him know that Jack and Reed are meeting me for drinks in the bar around six thirty tonight.” Did I want more company?
The whole thing might appear more innocent that way.
“You two are welcome to join us,” I added, “assuming Neal’s off duty. And even if he’s not, you can come.”
“Sounds good.” But Janelle’s forehead puckered once more as her big blue eyes studied my face. “This isn’t just a meeting among friends for a drink, is it? I mean, I gather that the resort has turned into the place to nose around and talk to people about murder, right? It seemed that way before, and it does again now.”
I lifted my brows and shoulders in an attempt to appear the picture of complete innocence. “What do you mean? Of course this is just a fun get-together among friends—and family, too, if Neal joins us. And if we happen to talk a bit about things going on around town, like a murder investigation … Well, let’s just see if we hear anything interesting, shall we?”
Janelle laughed. “Yes,” she responded, “we shall.”
Eighteen
There was still more than an hour left before I was to close the shops, and a while beyond that before I went to the resort.
Heading into Icing, I considered throwing my latest bits of information—or at least claims of info—to Dinah, for the story she was writing.
Which I did in generalities, between customers. I wanted to see her reaction, just in case she gave something away—like hints that I should keep her among my most-likely suspects.
Not that I wanted to. And all she did when we spoke was to act excited about this other possible angle to insert into her plot.
“This might be the most exciting of all the murders that happened around here,” she said happily as we later stood behind the refrigerated counter pulling out the few human baked goods that were getting too old to maintain overnight.
I looked into her bright blue eyes, which were glowing now with excitement. “You mean you’ll use the real low-down, rather than make more stuff up for your fiction?”
“Reality is always more fun to use in a story,” she said. “Or at least pretend reality.”
I just laughed at that. And hoped that her attitude was a good reason not to consider her a viable murder suspect.
Once we’d completed our assessment and I’d placed the gently aging treats into a box, to be refrigerated and saved till someone from one of the charities down the mountain came to pick them up, I thanked Dinah for her excellent help. Since she had the next two days off from work, I wouldn’t be able to easily quiz her as a potential murder suspect, or find out what she’d learned from Jack as a potential suspect, for a while. But nothing urgent came to me.
I’d just have to see how I felt after talking with Jack that evening. Hopefully, any questions that formed for Dinah could wait till I saw her again on Tuesday.
I said goodbye to Dinah, then went into the Barkery to say bye to Janelle, until later. Both Frida and Vicky were scheduled to come in the next day, which was Sunday. I was too, of course.
“Did you talk with Neal?” I asked Janelle as we began clearing out some of the older dog treats from the refrigerated display case.
“I did. He’s off at around—” She used a paper towel to pull her phone from her pocket to check the time. “Right now, I think.” As far as I knew, it was approximately ten after six. “He said he’d hang around and grab a drink with us.”
“Great.” But I did wonder how things would go with a big crowd having drinks while I tried nonchalantly—this time—to quiz Jack on what he knew and who he still suspected.
As we closed the display case, I looked over to where Biscuit and Go still hung out—and then to the chairs on the blue tile floor with the beige representation of a bone in the center. This area had proven perfect for the
adoption event we’d recently held in conjunction with Mountaintop Rescue.
The kind of event I’d been really looking forward to hosting again. Soon.
But I hadn’t figured on this latest murder. Even if I had, Billi Matlock was one of the last people in the world I’d have thought might become a murder suspect.
I absolutely had to figure Wanda’s murder out fast, if for no other reason than to permit us to hold that wonderful adoption event here soon.
And it couldn’t happen until Billi was cleared.
Maybe the detectives would figure it all out even faster than me. I certainly hoped so. But they had protocol and rules to follow.
I didn’t—except for having promised so many people, so often, to be careful, which I intended to do anyway.
Would this evening’s discussion help me solve this murder, and fast?
Or would it just be an enjoyable—I hoped—meeting among friends?
I would do all I could to ensure it accomplished both.
Reed picked Biscuit and me up a short while later. He’d called back to suggest it to save a little parking money—and to have some good company coming and going. That was fine with me.
“I hope we’re not planning to spend a lot of time there tonight,” he said once I was ensconced in his passenger seat and Biscuit was in the back. “I promised Hugo a nice dinner, too, but he’s at home.”
I grinned at Reed as he looked out the windshield. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint Hugo. Right, Biscuit?” I looked at the rear seat, and she cocked her head as she looked at me. “She says ‘right.’”
“Are you going to tell me why this drink with Jack became so urgent tonight?”
“Sure.” I gave him an abbreviated version of my discussion with Harris.
“And that’s supposed to make you feel that Harris Ethman is innocent.” Reed’s words were far from a question, yet I knew what he was asking.
“It makes me feel like I need even more information,” I said. I was glad that Reed pulled into the parking lot right then.
Bad to the Bone Page 15
