The Pomeranian Always Barks Twice

by Alex Erickson

  “That’s the job of the detective in charge of the case, don’t you think?”

  “It is,” I admitted. “But I’m his mother. I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

  “Why not?”

  It was spoken with such an air of innocence, I almost laughed. It was obvious Duke wasn’t a father. No parent could ever look at another parent in distress and ask that.

  “I’m not accusing you of killing Mr. Fuller,” I said. At least not yet. If it turned out he had, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell Detective Cavanaugh. “All I want to know is where you were. If Courtney sent you back after Stewie, then maybe you heard or saw something that could help Ben.”

  Duke paled and hurriedly looked down into his mug.

  “You did see something, didn’t you?”

  “I . . .”

  “Can I get you two some sandwiches?” our waitress asked, startling me. I’d been so intent on Duke, I’d forgotten where we were.

  “No, we’re good,” Duke said.

  I simply shook my head. I refused to take my eyes off Duke, lest he try to sneak away while I was distracted.

  “All righty! Let me know if I can get you anything.” The waitress scurried away.

  “Out with it,” I said, the moment she was gone.

  Duke’s entire body sagged. “Okay, look,” he said. “Courtney did send me back to the house. Since you didn’t follow us right away, she let me out down the road. She told me to make sure that you weren’t going to try to steal the dog from us, and then, if you weren’t, to do it myself. I didn’t want to do it, thinking it was too underhanded, even for her, so I dragged my feet on the way back. I think I was kind of hoping you’d catch me in the act.”

  I knew it! Courtney had been stalling. She’d probably calculated how long she expected Duke to take, which was why she was so abrupt in dismissing me. She’d figured he’d already have Stewie and was anxious to pick him up.

  “What happened when you got to Timothy’s house?” I asked, keeping my voice level.

  “When I got back, I saw Ben right away and thought Courtney was right to be worried. He was next door with a pretty girl in a bikini, and they seemed to be hitting it off. I hung back and watched him, mostly to make sure he didn’t see me, and to make sure he didn’t head over to the Fuller place. It wasn’t long before I realized I was wasting my time.”

  “He went inside the house?”

  Duke nodded. “He did. I waited for a few more minutes after he went inside, just to make sure he wouldn’t reappear. When he didn’t, I walked up to Fuller’s front door and was about to knock when I heard shouting.”

  I leaned forward, heart skipping a beat. “Who was shouting?” I asked.

  “Mr. Fuller and that son of his.”

  “Junior.”

  “Yeah, him. Junior was shouting something about being owed, and his father wasn’t having any of it. He kept saying that Junior didn’t deserve anything of his, and that he wished he’d never showed up. It sounded pretty heated, and I for one, wasn’t about to intrude.”

  “You didn’t go in?” I asked, shocked. If it had been me, I’d probably have knocked, just to break up the fight.

  Still, if Duke had seen, or at least, heard Timothy’s murder, that made him a witness. He could tell Detective Cavanaugh everything he knew, and the detective would have no choice but to release Ben.

  “No, it wasn’t any of my business.”

  When he didn’t say anything more, I prodded. “And then what happened?”

  “Then, nothing,” Duke said, with a dismissive shrug. “They shouted at one another for a few more minutes, and since I wanted nothing to do with it, I backed away.”

  “So, you didn’t see anything?” I asked. It came out sounding like a whine.

  “Not really. Though, while I was walking away, the door banged open and Junior and his wife stormed out of there. I could hear Mr. Fuller screaming at them, and his nurse was shouting at him to calm down, but they didn’t come outside. She sounded just as angry as he did.” Duke took a drink, grimaced as if his coffee had turned suddenly bitter. “Junior and his wife sped off, and that was the end of it.”

  That didn’t help me—or Ben—one bit. “Did you see an old man across the street?” I asked. I couldn’t remember if Clarence had said whether or not he’d seen Junior leave. If he had, why not say anything about Duke?

  “No, sorry. I kept my head down and just walked away. I wasn’t interested in being there, though now, I wish I would have paid more attention.”

  “Did you go back for Stewie?” I asked. “Or see Mr. Fuller when he went out back to the barn?”

  “No, I didn’t. At that point, I’d lost all interest in the dog,” Duke said. “I want to see it find a good home, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t about to stick my nose in the middle of that mess. And then, after what happened . . .” He shook his head.

  “Where did you go?” I asked, still hoping he could tell me something that might help Ben, though those hopes were fading. While the fight between Junior and his dad was interesting, it didn’t prove anything I didn’t already know. The two men didn’t get along. That didn’t mean Junior had murdered his own father, especially since he’d left before the old man had died.

  “I went for a walk. I wanted a clear head while I tried to figure out what I was going to tell Courtney. As you know, she doesn’t like it when things don’t go her way.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered.

  Duke smiled, but it quickly faded. “When I heard the sirens, and realized where they were headed, I called her, not wanting to be caught hanging around where I didn’t rightly belong. She came and got me, and then proceeded to rip into me for not doing what she asked. She didn’t care why, didn’t care that an ambulance was there. She just wanted the dog.”

  “Sounds like Courtney.” I could only imagine how high-pitched her shouts were.

  “I like her well enough,” Duke said. “But sometimes, she goes overboard.” He leaned forward, met my eye. “I didn’t know you were supposed to be there that day. I swear to you, that was all on Courtney. If I would have known, I would have tried to talk her out of it. We had no right to be there, not if Mr. Fuller called you first.”

  “You could have told her that when Ben and I showed up,” I pointed out.

  “I could have,” he said. “But then I would have landed squarely on Courtney’s bad side. We were already there, so it wasn’t like she’d just drop it, even if I asked her to. You only have to see her every once in awhile. I, on the other hand, have to work with her. I opted to stay out of it and let it work itself out. It’s safer that way.”

  “True,” I allowed, and then fell silent.

  This was far from the outcome I’d been hoping for. I was glad to know I’d been right about Courtney’s underhanded tactics, but something still didn’t sit right with me about the whole business.

  “Why did Courtney want Stewie so badly?” I asked Duke, who drained his coffee and was looking around like he was ready to leave.

  “Honestly, I can’t say,” he said, producing his wallet and dropping a few bills onto the table. “When she called me, she said it was important we got there early, but never said why. Once you arrived, I figured it was because she was trying to beat you to the punch.”

  There was something to his tone that caught my interest. “But now?”

  “Now, I’m not so sure.” Duke rose. “I’m sorry if our interference has caused you and Ben trouble. I never intended for any of this to happen, and I’m sure Courtney feels the same way.”

  Though she’d never say so.

  “Thanks, Duke,” I said, my mind turning over what he’d said. If her early arrival at Mr. Fuller’s wasn’t because of me, then why was she there? Something was going on, and I had a feeling Courtney was the only one who knew what it was.

  Duke smiled, patted me on the shoulder, and then walked away. Even though I still had questions, I let him go. I had a feeling he wouldn’t have th
e answers.

  I remained seated for a few minutes more, toying with my cooling coffee. I wasn’t completely satisfied with Duke’s explanation of Courtney’s motives. Why was she so interested in Stewie? What had Duke meant when he said he wasn’t so sure about her interest in the dog? There was something she wasn’t saying, and I had no idea how I’d ever get it out of her.

  But Detective Cavanaugh might.

  I considered calling him and pointing him Courtney’s way. It would serve her right for trying to snake the Pomeranian out from under me. And then to lie to my face about Duke’s whereabouts . . .

  It might serve her right, but it would also make her an enemy for life. I wasn’t convinced she knew anything about the murder, but if she did, I intended to find out.

  I paid for my coffee, and then left Sophie’s, debating on how to handle things without stirring the pot. If nothing else, I could call Cavanaugh and let him know what Duke had told me about Junior’s fight with his father. If the detective hadn’t heard about it by now, maybe it would give him a lead that would lead him to someone other than Ben.

  I was about to turn the corner to head to my van when I saw someone across the street; someone who, as far as I knew, wasn’t supposed to be there.

  Amelia was leaving one of the businesses, talking animatedly as she descended the stairs. There was no sign on the building, at least none I could see from where I stood. It was a small, brick structure, at least, small compared to the much larger mansion-sized buildings surrounding it.

  An older man in a ratty tan suit—I’d put his age at around sixty—was walking with her. They both stopped at the foot of the stairs and faced one another. The older man put a hand on her shoulder and spoke to her, leaning toward her intently.

  I moved so I could still keep an eye on them, but wouldn’t be immediately evident if they were to look my way. I knew I should just walk away and let Amelia tell me about it in her own time, yet I remained.

  It’s not like she’d just up and tell me about anything going on in her life.

  Amelia and the man spoke, heads very nearly touching, like they didn’t want anyone else to overhear what they were saying. Every so often, she would nod. His hand moved from her shoulder, down to her wrist. When she started to walk away, his grip tightened, causing her to stop.

  “Who are you?” I muttered, thinking back to the name I’d seen written on the card in her room: C. Chudzinski. Could this be Amelia’s new boyfriend?

  My gut clenched at the thought. She was still young, just barely in her college years, and this guy was at least three times her age! I had half a mind to stomp over there and demand to know what was going on, but knew if I did, she would never forgive me.

  They spoke a few minutes more before the man retreated back into the building. Amelia stood there, alone, a contemplative look on her face, before she nodded once to herself, and then strode meaningfully toward her car.

  Snap decision. I could march across the street and demand to know who the man was, and what he wanted with my daughter.

  Or, I could get into my car, follow after Amelia, and see what she was doing. By her determined stride, I was positive she wasn’t going to simply drive home and take a nap.

  I found myself moving toward my own car without a second thought. Confronting the older man might get me my answers, but it would also infuriate Amelia. If I asked her myself, then perhaps she would tell me on her own. She’d still be mad I followed her, but I had a feeling she’d be far less volatile if the explanation came from her own lips.

  I hit my car at a run, fumbled with the door handle, nearly dropping my keys in the process. Amelia was likely in her car by now. If I didn’t move fast, she would get away, and any chance to see where she was headed would be gone.

  I jumped into the driver’s seat, slammed the key home, and then backed out, nearly clipping the back of a pickup truck parked behind me.

  I hit the street just as Amelia pulled away from the curb. I kept well back, just in case she checked her mirrors.

  And then, hating myself even as I did it, I settled in behind my daughter to see where she would take me.

  14

  Amelia pulled to a stop in front of a house not far from Timothy Fuller’s home. I, not wanting to be seen, pulled off the road a short distance away and watched to see what she would do. Amelia didn’t get out of her car right away, and I wondered if she was reconsidering whatever it was she was doing.

  Of course, it also gave me time to reconsider my decision to follow her. As far as I knew, one of her friends lived here. Or she was running an errand, though what kind, I had no idea.

  Her car door opened and she popped out, looking almost jittery as she scanned the front of the house. She smoothed down her hair, brushed herself off, and then went to the door.

  I chewed on my lower lip as I waited to see what would happen. Something about Amelia’s manner didn’t feel right to me. She kept looking around nervously as she pressed the doorbell and stepped back to wait for someone to answer.

  She smoothed down her hair again, clearly a nervous gesture. It made me wonder if perhaps I’d been wrong when I thought the older man might be the new boyfriend Ben believed she was seeing. Could she be at her real boyfriend’s house now?

  I almost drove away then. As much as I wanted to protect her and make sure she was safe, Amelia was a grown adult. If she was seeing someone, it was none of my business. It didn’t matter who the older man she’d been talking to was. It didn’t matter who she was meeting now. It was her life, and I had to let her live it.

  Yet, I remained right where I was. After what happened to Ben, I was feeling overly protective, and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

  The door opened and I audibly gasped when Timothy’s nurse, Meredith, poked her head outside. She wasn’t wearing her uniform, but rather a light sweater with the sleeves pushed up past her elbows, and a pair of capris. She looked just as startled as I was to find Amelia standing on her doorstep.

  The two women spoke briefly. Meredith shook her head once, then a second time, before heaving a sigh and nodding. She stepped aside and Amelia entered the house. Meredith checked to make sure no one else was lurking, and then closed the door.

  “What is going on here?” I wondered aloud. Amelia had no business being here, especially after what had happened to Ben. Did she know Meredith somehow? I found it unlikely, which meant she was likely involving herself in the case.

  But why?

  One thing was for sure, there was no way I was leaving now.

  I put the van in gear and pulled in behind Amelia’s car in the driveway. I shut off the engine and after making sure I didn’t look as harried as I felt, I got out and approached the door. The good news was, there was no yelling going on inside. The bad news was, I couldn’t see inside to make sure they weren’t strangling one another.

  I pressed the doorbell and stepped back, stomach churning. This had to be about Ben, but it made no sense to me why Amelia of all people would be here, even if it was. How would she know who Meredith was? I supposed she could have asked around, but why would she? Did she know something I didn’t?

  The door opened to reveal Timothy Fuller’s former nurse. She took one look at me and her shoulders slumped. She spoke before I could utter a word.

  “I guess you’d better come on in too.”

  Meredith turned and led me down a short hall, into the living room. Amelia was flipping through a notebook when we entered. She was sitting on the couch, that contemplative look still on her face. She wrote something in the notebook, and then looked up, mouth open to speak, when she saw me. Whatever she was originally going to say vanished, and was replaced by a single word.

  “Mom?”

  “Amelia.” I stepped the rest of the way into the room and looked around, hoping to spot some indication as to why my daughter was here. There were a few pictures on the wall of an older couple I took for Meredith’s parents. There were no kids, no husb
and, as far as I could tell. A pair of candles burned on the coffee table, making the room smell of caramel. It was rather cozy, if not somewhat sparse.

  Meredith walked past me and took a seat in a rocking chair by the window. A closed wicker basket sat beside the chair, a pair of knitting needles atop it.

  “What are you doing here?” Amelia asked, voice rising an octave. She looked to Meredith as if she might have the answer, but I was the one who spoke.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I said, crossing my arms and putting on my mom face.

  She blinked at me twice, slowly, a realization dawning. “Were you following me?”

  “Not at first,” I said. “But after I saw you with that man, I was curious.” My face started to warm. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t getting into anything I should know about.”

  “You followed me!” This time, it was a statement. “I can’t believe you!” She threw herself back into the couch, looking for all the world like the petulant teenager I’d argued with a hundred times before. If she was trying to act the part of a responsible adult, she was losing whatever credibility she might have had.

  “I didn’t mean to do it,” I said. “It just sort of happened.”

  Amelia snorted and rolled her eyes.

  I glanced at Meredith, who was watching us with a resigned look on her face, before turning my attention back to my daughter. “Why are you here?” I asked. “Do you know Meredith?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Amelia’s stubbornness came into her voice full force.

  “Amelia, what happens to you is my business.” I could be just as stubborn. In fact, Manny would say she got it from me. “After what happened to Ben, I want to make sure you’re okay, and not putting yourself at unnecessary risk.”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” Amelia said. “I came here to talk to Ms. Hopewell.”

  “Why?” I asked, glancing at Meredith—Ms. Hopewell, apparently. She remained seated, seemingly resigned to let whatever happened, happen.

  Amelia’s mouth pressed into a fine line, before she answered. “Because I want to help Ben.” She crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking my own stance. “Because I heard Ms. Hopewell had more of a problem with Mr. Fuller than she let on.” She turned to Meredith. “Isn’t that right?”