Dead Canaries Don't Sing

by Cynthia Baxter

  I pulled a comb out of my purse for Step B. She took it from me gratefully.

  “I especially don’t want her to see me looking like this,” she mumbled.

  I knew exactly who she meant.

  Within just a few minutes, she looked composed enough to face the world.

  “Okay, now take a few deep breaths,” I instructed. “Come on, I’ll breathe with you.”

  “I took a yoga class once.” She sounded childlike. “It didn’t really do anything for me. And whenever we had to stand on one leg, I was the only one in the class who kept falling over.”

  “I’ve never had much luck with it, either,” I admitted. “I guess I’m always in too much of a hurry to be a yoga-type.”

  Merrilee smiled gratefully. “It was really nice of you to do this. I’m not used to having anybody take care of me.”

  “We all need taking care of sometimes.”

  “Were you and Tommee friends? Or business associates?”

  The moment I’d been dreading. “Well . . . neither. I—”

  “You’re not in public relations?”

  “Actually, I’m a vet—”

  Her face lit up. “Oh, I’m so glad to meet you! And thank you for taking such good care of Dobie and Maynard!”

  I didn’t bother to correct her. My mind was clicking as I said carefully, “Dobie and Maynard. I just love those names. From the old Dobie Gillis TV show, right?”

  “What else would you name a Doberman but Dobie?” Merrilee giggled. “That was my idea. Naming the other one after Maynard G. Krebs was Tommee’s. Imagine, a Doberman pinscher named after a beatnik!” She hesitated, then added, “That was back when Tommee still had a sense of humor. Before he started taking himself so seriously. Before he decided our life together wasn’t good enough. That I wasn’t good enough.”

  Merrilee’s face crumpled again as she relived the pain of rejection. Anxious to distract her, I asked, “So—how are Dobie and Maynard doing?”

  “Not too well, actually. They’re with me now, you know. Of course, I’m thrilled to have them back. I mean, they were Tommee’s dogs, but I got real attached to them. And then I lost them in the settlement. At the time, giving them up seemed like a good deal. I got a bunch of money and Tommee got the dogs. But for the past three years, not a day has passed that I haven’t missed them so much I could hardly stand it.”

  I wondered if she meant only the Dobermans, or if Tommee was included in there, too.

  “But they’re not doing so good. They haven’t eaten a bite since I got them back. They just lie by the door, resting their noses on their paws. They’re waiting for Tommee to come home.” Her eyes filled with tears. “The poor guys. They don’t know what happened. They were completely devoted to him. Tommee was the center of their lives for as long as they can remember, and they just don’t know what to do with themselves without him.”

  She brightened. “Hey, maybe you could check them out. Make sure they’re okay.”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  “That’s great! When can I bring them in?”

  “You don’t have to. I have a mobile unit. I’ll come right to your house.”

  “Oh, could you? That would make things so much easier! I just have a little Hyundai, and believe me, driving around with those two monsters in the backseat is no picnic.”

  One hundred and sixty canine pounds would definitely test the limits of a Hyundai. “How about later today?” I asked. “Around eleven?”

  She looked over my shoulder as I jotted down her name, address, and phone number in the small address book I retrieved from my purse.

  “You spelled my name wrong,” she pointed out. “That’s okay. Everybody does. It’s M-E-R-R-I-L-E-E.”

  “Interesting,” I observed. “Just like Tommee.”

  “That’s where he got the idea. Of changing the spelling of his name, I mean. He was just ‘Tommy’ before that. But he wanted his name to be different. Something people would remember.”

  The cloudy look came over her face again. “You see, him and me, we really were good together. I inspired him. We had a terrific future together. It’s just that, well, in the end, he didn’t see it that way.”

  “Something like that must be awfully hard to forgive.”

  Merrilee cast me a steely look. “It’s something I’ve never gotten over.”

  The contrast between her ruffled dress and the naked vehemence of her tone left me feeling chilled.

  As I made my way back to my original vantage point, the eulogies were coming to a close. People were getting restless, shifting in their seats and sneaking glances at their watches. These were busy people, I thought, and now that they’d paid their respects, it was time to move on with the rest of their day.

  Before taking off myself, I turned to Officer Nolan.

  “It was nice to see you again, Officer—”

  “Jimmy,” he corrected me with a grin.

  “Jimmy.” Flirtatiously, I added, “And who knows? Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer one of these days.”

  He looked confused.

  “Hearing all your war stories? Over a couple of beers?”

  Before he could respond, I felt someone grab my arm.

  “Jessie, I know what you’re doing,” that same somebody hissed in my ear, “and I’m warning you that you’re playing with fire.”

  “Will you excuse me?” I asked Jimmy sweetly.

  “Sure,” he replied cheerfully. “I’ve got to get going anyway. See you around, Jess.”

  The second he was out of earshot, I turned back to Nick.

  “This is such a sad occasion,” I told him calmly. “A terrible loss to Long Island’s business community, not to mention those who truly loved Tommee—”

  “I saw you flirting with that cop. And I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re kissing up to him so you can horn in on the investigation. I’m telling you, it’s not a smart idea.”

  Nick was beginning to remind me of my parrot Prometheus, the way he kept saying the same thing over and over again until you just itched to throw a sheet over his cage.

  “You’ve made your point,” I told him.

  He glared at me. Then he sighed. “Look, Jess, why don’t you just stick to what you know? You’ll be much safer setting bones and removing hair balls than playing detective.”

  I smiled at him sweetly. Then, with the same lady-like grace and dignity, I stuck out my tongue.

  Chapter 4

  “An empty house is like a stray dog or a body from which life has departed.”

  -Samuel Butler

  Fifty-four Heather Court was one of five identical houses dotting the edge of a perfectly round cul-de-sac, like the numbers on a clock. Yet despite their architectural similarities, each of the modest ranch houses had been customized by the residents who owned and loved them.

  I had a feeling I would have been able to pick out Merrilee Frack’s home even without a street address. The touches at number 54 were all variations on Merrilee’s favorite theme: cuteness. Inside the white picket fence was one of those wooden cutouts showing the backside of a woman bending over to pull weeds. A straw hat hung on the front door, with long satin ribbons in pastel colors dangling from it. White ruffled curtains framed the windows, which had flower boxes decorated with hearts along the bottom.

  Something about its desperate attempts at cheerfulness made me sad. This house clearly belonged to a woman who longed for a real home. But from what I’d seen so far, I knew that Merrilee’s dream house was missing a very important ingredient.

  As I climbed out of my van, the front door flew open. The movement sent the ribbons on the straw hat flying like streamers. Then two massive Dobermans emerged, their powerful chests heaving and their long legs eager to run. Only the sheer determination of the tiny woman at the other end of their leashes held them back.

  “Thanks again for coming,” Merrilee called to me as they dragged her down the driveway. She’d changed into jeans and a lavende
r sweater, and she wore a matching lavender plastic barrette in her hair. The contrast between her soft, almost girlish look and the two mighty beasts she managed to keep in check was startling.

  “Sit!” she commanded. Two sleek, muscular butts hit the ground so fast you’d have thought they belonged to United States Marines.

  “Sorry they’re so rambunctious,” Merrilee said. “Like I told you, they just don’t know what to do with themselves now that Tommee is—well, you know.”

  She cast me a meaningful look. I instantly understood that we weren’t to use the D-word in front of the dogs.

  “Bring them inside the van and I’ll check them out,” I offered. Just from eyeballing them, both dogs looked pretty healthy to me. I suspected that my initial diagnosis would prove correct: that they were simply going through some grieving of their own.

  Merrilee came into my van and watched as I did the usual tests, exhibiting the same anxiety most pet owners show as I touch and prod their little bundles of fur. Sure enough, there was nothing wrong with Dobie and Maynard that time, the great healer, wouldn’t correct.

  “They’re beautiful animals,” I told Merrilee, admiringly running one hand along Maynard’s sleek fur as he eased himself off the examining table. “And they’re fine, at least physically. As for their emotional state, it’s probably going to take them a while to get used to the fact that Tommee is gone.”

  Merrilee’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s true for all of us.”

  “I’m sure they’re also responding to your grief. They can sense that you’re upset, and that contributes to their state. If you can, try what’s called ‘the jolly treatment.’ Act cheerful around them, play happy music, do your best to act as if there’s nothing wrong.

  “In the meantime, don’t worry about them not eating. They’re both strong, healthy animals. It won’t hurt them to go without food for a few days. It shouldn’t be long before they’re back to normal.” I reached down to stroke Dobie’s silky head, and was rewarded with a long, wet tongue slurping my wrist. “If you don’t see any change in another week, call me. We can always do blood tests at that point to make sure everything’s all right.”

  “Thank you so much, Dr. Popper.” She smiled tremulously. “Hey, would you like to come in for a few minutes? I could make coffee. If you have time, I mean—”

  “I’d love coffee. In fact, every day about this time, I need coffee.”

  “Good.” Shyly, she added, “Frankly, I’d be really grateful for the company. This hasn’t exactly been my best day.” She gathered up Dobie and Maynard’s leashes. “Why don’t you go ahead in? I’ll put these guys in the backyard. They could use a little fresh air.”

  As I wandered unattended into Merrilee’s house, I saw that the inside was consistent with the outside. Cute touches abounded, ranging from appliquéd throw pillows with a daisy design on the living room couch to a shelf lined with Precious Moments statuettes. Every square inch of clutter was absolutely immaculate. Somehow, the house had the feeling of being stuck in a state of readiness, like a model home. It was as if everything in there was untouched, waiting to be used.

  I did a double take when I saw the large picture prominently displayed in the front hallway. The blown-up photograph in an elaborate gilt frame showed Merrilee and Tommee side by side, their arms around each other as they stood beneath a canopy of pink roses. Merrilee, engulfed by a puffy white cloud of a dress, looked as if this was the happiest day of her life. Next to her stood a red-haired, freckled, pudgy Tommee Frack, looking as if he couldn’t wait to get out of his tight tuxedo.

  When Merrilee came in behind me and caught me gawking at the king-size wedding picture, she sighed.

  “I know; it’s beautiful, isn’t it? So was everything about that day. It was absolutely perfect.”

  “You both look so . . . young.”

  “We were young. I was twenty-one, and Tommee had just turned twenty-two.”

  “How long had you two known each other?”

  “We met in high school. Tommee and I were high school sweethearts from the ninth grade on. You know, the kind of kids that are always holding hands in the hall and making out in front of their lockers? Junior Prom, Senior Prom, the whole nine yards . . . Then we both went to college here on the Island. I went to the state university, because my parents didn’t have the money for a private school. But Tommee’s folks sent him to Brookside College. They didn’t have much money, either, but somehow they found a way. They doted on Tommee.”

  “Did he win a scholarship?”

  She shook her head. “Tommee was brilliant, but not in a school-type way. I mean, his grades weren’t anything to write home about. He was people-smart. He could talk anybody into anything, you know? He could take any situation, anything at all, and make people see things the way he wanted them to see them.

  “It even worked with teachers. He’d talk them into giving him a few extra points, or dropping the lowest test grade. That kind of thing. And because of it, everybody knew who he was. They didn’t necessarily like him, but they knew him. It was like this special talent Tommee had. You know, always finding a way to be at the center of things.”

  I was watching her face as she reminisced. With a shock, I realized she had stars in her eyes. It was the same look Betty accused me of having whenever I was around Nick.

  She really loved him, I thought. I hastily amended that statement. She really loves him. Even now. He’s the one she never got over. The one who broke her heart.

  “Is there a bathroom I can use?” I asked abruptly. I didn’t really have to go, but I was anxious for an excuse to look at the rest of the house. It was funny, the way going to the ladies room was turning out to be a terrific investigative technique. It literally opened doors.

  “Sure. Right upstairs. End of the hall. And I’ll get that coffee started.”

  As I walked down the second-floor hallway, I glanced into each bedroom. The first room on the left was the master bedroom. Merrilee had decorated it all in white lace. Next to the bed, I noticed a framed close-up of Tommee.

  Amazing, I thought. The first face she sees in the morning and the last face she sees before she goes to sleep at night.

  But it was the next room that totally floored me. It was much smaller, probably meant to be a study or a guest room. And it did contain a desk with an outdated-looking computer and a sofa.

  Otherwise, it looked like an altar to Tommee Frack.

  Business-style letters had been framed and hung, congratulatory notes from politicians praising Tommee for his valuable contribution to Long Island’s economy, and thank-you letters from satisfied clients. I skimmed a letter from George Babcock, President of The Babcock Group, printed on thick, expensive-looking stationery embossed with gold. It was a job offer, dated eight years earlier. Using ridiculously flowery wording, Babcock welcomed Tommee Frack to his firm and said he was looking forward to a long and prosperous association.

  But that was just the beginning. Framed articles from Newsday, the Long Island Weekly section of the Sunday New York Times, and what looked like weeklies from all over the Island covered the walls. Every one of them was about Tommee.

  I stepped into the room, so astonished that I forgot to worry about being found out. “PR Genius Starts Own Firm,” one headline trumpeted. “Wunderkind Turns Entrepreneur,” screamed another.

  They weren’t all about the young public relations star opening up his own public relations shop. There were also pictures of Tommee with every politician and every celebrity who had ever set foot on Long Island. The governor, the past governor, and no fewer than three U.S. presidents and seven presidential candidates. There was Tommee with every member of the town council, and there he was with most of the Norfolk County legislators.

  He also posed with a number of celebrities who were Long Island natives, actors and sports figures who had probably returned from Hollywood to visit their relatives who still lived here. Tommee and Jerry Seinfeld. Tommee and Eddie Murphy. Tomm
ee and Rosie O’Donnell. Tommee and basketball legend Julius Erving, a.k.a., Dr. J.

  Then there were photos taken with the Hamptons crowd, the summer people who regularly came out to the East End to recreate the social scene they’d left behind in the city, only this time with a beachy backdrop. Tommee with Christie Brinkley, Steven Spielberg, Peter Jennings, Dr. Atkins, Betsey Johnson. Even Martha Stewart stood stiffly beside Tommee, looking tortured as she let him pose with his arm around her.

  Charity events, fund-raisers, the world-famous Hampton Classic horse show. Whatever the occasion, it seemed that if important people were there, so was Tommee.

  “Pretty amazing, huh?”

  I jumped at the sound of Merrilee’s voice. But she didn’t sound at all irritated that I’d been distracted on my way to the loo. In fact, she sounded as if she completely understood my amazement.

  “Like I told you, he had an awesome talent. People liked Tommee. They trusted him. They just wanted to be around him.”

  “And he obviously put a lot of effort into being at the center of things.” I glanced at the walls of photos, wondering what the guy had paid for tuxedo rentals every year. “A person has to, if he’s that ambitious. But I suppose that kind of drive is what comes of growing up without having a lot of money.”

  “Money?” Merrilee looked bewildered. “But it was never about money. Not really. I mean, sure he liked what he could buy with all the money he made. You know how boys are with their toys. And Tommee was even more extreme than most. Everything had to be the best. Dinners at the most expensive restaurants. The biggest suites at the best hotels. Silk shirts and handmade suits he got on his weekend trips to Hong Kong. He even drove a Rolls. I think it was only leased, but the point was that he had to have it all.”

  “But if his ambition wasn’t about money, what was behind it?”

  “Tommee was star-struck, back from the very beginning. He was always attracted to people other people considered important.”

  “You mean he was a social climber?”