The Pomeranian Always Barks Twice

by Alex Erickson

“Mom! Duck!”

  I did just that as Amelia reared back and launched something over my head.

  It shattered behind me, all too close for comfort. It was followed by the sound of something—or someone—hitting the floor hard. I looked back to find Clarence lying on the ground, blood dripping from his head. He groaned, but didn’t attempt to rise.

  Then, the blessed sound of sirens blared in the distance. A few minutes later, and a pair of police cruisers came to a screeching halt in the driveway.

  As the police—including Detective Cavanaugh—piled out of their cars, I pulled Amelia into a tight hug. We watched as the cops rushed into the house, taking Clarence into custody.

  “I feel bad,” Amelia said, holding on to me for all she was worth.

  “For what?” I asked. “He deserved it.”

  “He might have. But the dog sure didn’t.”

  “The dog?” I glanced back to where Clarence had fallen, and for the first time noted the remains of the ceramic Pomeranian that had once sat outside Timothy Fuller’s door. I turned back to Amelia and smiled. “You know, I think he’ll be okay with it. Stewie got his revenge.”

  Detective Cavanaugh approached. “Anyone care to tell me just what happened here?” he asked. “Especially why there’s pieces of a dog all over the place?”

  Instead of answering, both Amelia and I burst into laughter.

  27

  Stewie yapped happily as Sue and Barry Lincoln gathered him into their arms. I was sad to see him go, but happy for him at the same time. He was going to live a good, happy life from now on.

  They carried the dog to the car, deciding against a carrier. Barry drove, while Sue took the passenger seat, Stewie on her lap. He gave me one last yap before they drove away.

  I wiped a tear from my eye as I put an arm across Ben’s shoulder. He accepted it with only a little squirm. He was in his early twenties, yet sometimes, he still acted like a teenager, afraid to show his own mother affection.

  “Think he’ll be okay?” he asked, voice breaking slightly. He might have only spent a few hours with Stewie, yet I could tell he’d grown close to the Pomeranian. I think they shared a connection, thanks to Timothy’s murder. It wouldn’t surprise me if Ben ended up visiting the little dog every now and again.

  “He’ll be fine,” I said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Just like the rest of us.”

  “Okay, Mom,” he said, pulling away. “We’re getting a little too sappy here.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, yeah. I think I deserve it, don’t you?”

  He rolled his eyes, looking a lot like his sister right then. “I’m the one who was stuck in a jail cell.”

  “All the more reason for me to give you hugs.” I reached for him, but he scuttled back.

  “Go find Amelia,” I said with a laugh. “Your dad wants to have a cookout to celebrate. I think he’s out back waiting for you.”

  Ben gave me a thumbs up, and then headed inside, seemingly none the worse for wear after his arrest. I was glad to see his good nature hadn’t been dampened by these last few harrowing days.

  I was about to follow him inside when a car pulled into the driveway and parked next to my van. Detective Cavanaugh got out, eyes darting around like he was arriving at a crime scene, before finally settling his gaze on me.

  “Mrs. Denton,” he said, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment.

  “Detective. What can I do for you?”

  “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before,” he said, referring, of course, to the night of Clarence’s arrest. He had interrogated me, of course, but he’d been so busy dealing with Clarence, he didn’t ask about much more than the basics. “I thought I’d come down here now and have my say.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “If you feel it’s necessary.” I crossed my arms over my chest, defensively.

  “You do know that you put yourself, and your daughter, at great risk, right?”

  “I do,” I said. “But it got the bad guy, didn’t it?”

  “It did,” he admitted.

  “And you weren’t even looking at him, were you?”

  “Not expressly.” His face was starting to redden, so I eased off.

  “It’s all good then. The murderer is behind bars and everyone is safe and sound.” Other than Timothy Fuller, of course. He might not have been a nice man, but that didn’t mean he deserved to die.

  Detective Cavanaugh sighed, ran a hand over his brow. “Good enough, I suppose. Just know, I won’t stand for this sort of behavior in the future. If something like this ever happens again, I don’t want you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “I won’t, just as long as you aren’t arresting my children for a crime they didn’t commit.”

  His eyes flashed. In anger, or in embarrassment, I’m not sure. “Mrs. Denton, please. Take my warning to heart. I can’t have civilians interfering in my investigations. The next time it happens, I won’t be so lenient.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, relenting. “I don’t plan on making a habit of this, trust me.”

  “Good.” He shuffled his feet, cleared his throat.

  “Did you get him to confess?” I asked. “Clarence, I mean.” Just because he told me he killed Timothy, didn’t mean he’d spill the beans to the cops. If I had to testify against him, I would. I wouldn’t like it, but darn it, I would do it. A part of me understood why he did it. In some ways, I supposed I could empathize. But to murder a man? For money? I couldn’t imagine.

  “He did,” Cavanaugh said. “I think a part of him regrets what he did, but another thinks Mr. Fuller deserved it.” He shook his head as if unable to comprehend how anyone could think that way.

  “How did he know to look in the house that night?” I asked, more to myself than the detective. “I told Selena Shriver, thinking she’d tell her boyfriend, Jason, but never in a million years did I think she was working with Clarence.”

  “She wasn’t,” Cavanaugh said, tugging at his collar. “In fact, she had no idea Clarence had any interest in the money, or what happened to Timothy Fuller.”

  “Then how did he know?”

  “He called her.” A faint smile appeared. “Said he was curious as to why you kept coming around. She told him about the camera, where you said it was hidden, and said she was confused as to why you thought she could help. Clarence took the information and ran with it.”

  “Wow,” I said. If he hadn’t called, I would have wasted my night, and he likely never would have been caught. “I can’t believe he could do such a thing. He seemed like such a nice man.”

  “Really, I think he is,” Cavanaugh said. “Mr. Fuller apparently brought the worst out in people, especially when they are stressed. It appears as if Clarence’s retirement wasn’t paying the bills, and he figured Mr. Fuller owed him, so he headed over to see what he could coax out of the old codger.”

  “Yeah, he told me.” A cynical part of me wondered if that meant when the time came, I could go next door and demand restitution for all the hard times Joanne had given me.

  “I don’t think he went over there to kill him,” Cavanaugh said. “Timothy Fuller was already in a foul mood when he arrived. I guess he’d just fought with his son, and when Clarence came around demanding money, the old man snapped. One thing leads to another, and someone ends up dead.”

  “Kind of hard to feel bad for a man who stabs someone in the back, though.” I hugged myself as I shuddered.

  “True.” Cavanaugh rubbed at the back of his neck. “Apparently, Clarence lost it when old man Fuller went to call for his nurse, who was still in the house dealing with the laundry at the time. It was probably a spur of the moment thing, but that still makes it murder.”

  “And then he uses Ben as a convenient scapegoat,” I said.

  “He did,” Cavanaugh said. “Claims he saw him napping with Ms. Shriver, and when the police came knocking, Ben was the first person who came to mind.”

  We stood there in silence for a few
moments, neither of us looking at the another. I wondered why he’d come all the way here just to tell me this when I could have learned most of it from the paper. Before I could ask, another question struck me.

  “What about the blood on Ben’s shirt?” I asked. “Any idea how it got there?”

  Cavanaugh’s face reddened, and this time, I was pretty sure it was anger. “No one wore it but your son,” he said. “It appears one of the officers on site wasn’t as careful as he should have been when he checked Mr. Fuller for a pulse. My best guess is he must have gotten blood on his hand, and when he took your son into custody, it wiped off on his shirt.”

  “That’s a pretty big mistake,” I said. If Clarence hadn’t confessed, the shirt very well might have been the key piece of evidence that could have put Ben away for good.

  “Tell me about it,” Cavanaugh muttered.

  I decided to change the subject.

  “Did Clarence admit to trying to break into my house?” I asked.

  “No. He claims he knows nothing about it. I’m liable to believe him too. He’s copped to everything else.”

  “So, then . . . ?”

  Cavanaugh shrugged. “If we catch someone in the act, I’ll let you know. I’m guessing this was a one-time deal and you won’t be bothered again.”

  It made me wonder, though. It seemed like an awfully big coincidence for someone to have tried to break into my house on the day I’d brought Stewie home. I had a feeling there was more to it than just a random break-in, but for now, it looked like I had to let it go.

  “What about Timothy’s money?” I asked. “Has anyone found it?”

  “Not that I’m aware. If I were to guess, I’d bet there is none to be found.”

  Which would make Timothy’s murder even more tragic. To die for something that didn’t even exist? How is that fair?

  Of course, fairness rarely plays a part with murder.

  “Care to join us, Detective?” I asked, motioning toward the house. “We’re having a cookout and I made lemonade.” I wasn’t sure why I asked, but it felt like the polite thing to do.

  “No, thank you. I’d better go,” Cavanaugh said. “You have a good day, Mrs. Denton. And please, leave the detective work to the professionals.”

  “I will,” I said, thinking that soon, Amelia might very well be working alongside him as one of said professionals. I wondered how Cavanaugh would take that.

  He waved to me as he got into his car. I returned the gesture, realizing that I didn’t dislike the big detective, even if he’d arrested Ben. He’d only been doing his job. Can’t fault a man for that.

  And that’s not to mention the fact he didn’t hold my little stunt against me. Well, at least not legally. I’m sure he could have slapped me with a charge of some kind if he’d wanted to.

  Cavanaugh backed out of the driveway just as the door opened and Manny stepped outside. He put his arm around me as the detective drove off.

  “Who was that?” Manny asked.

  “No one.” I turned, putting both the detective, and the horrors of the last week, out of my mind. “Let’s go out back and join the kids.” Especially Ben. He was due for a few more hugs.

  “You sure?” Manny asked, leaning in close and smiling. “Joanne is watching. We could always give her something else to complain about.”

  I laughed, shoving him playfully away. “I’m sure. Besides, I’m absolutely dying for a hot dog.”

  “There’s plenty,” Manny said.

  “I know.” I led the way back toward the house. “But I’ve learned not to take anything for granted. Best get to them before they’re gone.”