Dogs Don't Lie

by Clea Simon

  I smiled and walked out.

  “What was that about?” As soon as we were outside, Albert turned to me.

  “That keychain drive, Albert. You were right, it wasn’t mine. So I came to turn it in.” I left him with his mouth hanging open and his coffee cooling, and drove away.

  ***

  The tag had been a reminder. I’d gotten involved in all of this because of Lily. Lily was fine now. It was Charles, the man who had rescued her, who was dead and gone, long before his time. Without thinking much about it, I found myself driving over to his place. After a couple of visits to his mother’s house, I could see where he got his taste. Like his mother’s house, Charles’ place was old-school, original Berkshires. Unlike the tiny worker’s cottage he’d grown up in, the house I now pulled up to was palatial. I knew he’d kept up his childhood home, but it would never look like this, set well back from the road, with the wraparound porch and the hillside rising behind it.

  I was so busy admiring the vista that I almost didn’t notice the car in the driveway. A modified SUV, something built to handle our mountain winters. It could have been anybody’s car, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t Charles’.

  “Hello?” The sun was shining bright, but I was taking no chances. If somebody wanted to make good an escape, I was happy to give him advance notice. “Yoohoo!”

  “Hey, Pru!”

  Despite my act of friendly nonchalance, I nearly jumped when I heard the voice. Over behind the glossy green of the rhododendrons Delia appeared, pulled along by Lily. She was waving and laughing.

  “Hi there.” I knelt to greet the dog, taking her head in my hands and rubbing her ears as she surged toward me. “Now, Lily,” I addressed the dog. “You know better than to pull like that. I’m sorry, Delia. I thought I had her better trained.”

  “It’s okay. I think living with us is getting to her though. She’s pretty much dug up Nora’s garden, and I thought it would be good to take her out for a really long walk.”

  “Good idea.” I looked around. “Is Mrs. Harris with you?”

  “No.” Delia pushed a fall of hair out of her face. She was flushed with exertion. “The dog’s a bit much for her.”

  Lily seemed to be a bit much for Delia, too, and I felt a brief pang of guilt. “I shouldn’t have just brought her by.” Delia started protesting, but I continued. “At least let me continue her training.”

  “Sure, that might be good.” Delia agreed, still breathing hard. “Especially if you can come by. I don’t always have the use of the Wrangler.”

  I nodded. “I always try to work with animals in their home environments.” I looked over toward the tan 4X4. “That’s not your car?”

  Delia shook her head. “It’s Nora’s. We’ve been having it out about her driving again. But my car’s a standard, so if I take hers, she’s sort of stuck.” She had the grace to blush.

  “I understand.” I remembered my mother’s last months. “How is Mrs. Harris doing, anyway?”

  “Some days better than others.” She gazed out over the landscaping. Beyond the rhododendrons, I could see the green spiked leaves of holly and something else. Mountain laurel? A thick layer of mulch showed where other plants would come back, come spring. “She used to take care of all of this, you know? Right up until Charles died.”

  Her words pulled me back from the old-fashioned garden. “It was murder, Delia.”

  She blinked. “I know, Pru. I just, well, he’s gone.”

  Here was my moment, if I was ever going to ask. “Someone killed Charles, Delia. The cops are going through his financials, but sooner or later someone is going to start looking into his personal life. It’s going to come out, Delia, that you were his beard. And then people are going to start asking what you got out of it, or if there was someone close to you who wanted to change the arrangement.”

  That was a conversation killer. Without a word Delia turned away, pulling on Lily’s leash. The big dog gave a small yelp. I reached for her automatically, but Delia had already started to walk away. She was heading for the Jeep, and I watched her go, wondering if it was anger or guilt that was making her flee.

  “Delia, wait!” I called to her. She stopped short and turned to me. “Look, I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to figure things out.”

  Her head bobbed, one short, sharp movement. “I get it, Pru. But you’ve got to understand, too. It’s not just me anymore. I didn’t kill Charles. I had no reason to want him gone. Now he is, and I’ve got to take care of myself.”

  She had a point, but her plans were all after the fact. I was about to point this out—and point out that whatever her plans, there was at least one other man involved who may have had his own motivations. But just as I opened my mouth, my phone started buzzing. I tried to ignore it, but she gestured to my buzzing bag. “Since you’re in everybody’s business,” she said, her tone sounding more tired than frosty.

  With a sigh, I pulled the offending phone from my bag and answered it. “Yes?”

  “Well, I thought you’d be grateful that I’d gotten back to you. After all you did.” It was Eleanor Shrift, with an attitude that cut through the phone lines. Creighton must have gotten to her.

  “Eleanor, I don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn’t about me. This is about you not dealing with rejection.” I turned away from Delia, but I knew she was getting an earful. “Now, are you going to come by for him or what?”

  “I’ll come by when it’s convenient.” She cut the connection. I turned back to Delia and rolled my eyes.

  “She doesn’t deserve him.” I shook my head sadly. “Not by a long shot.”

  Delia looked a bit taken aback by the conversation, but at least it had served to break the stalemate between us. And since I was thinking of cats, my followup seemed obvious.

  “How’s the kitten? What’s her name, Tulip?” It must have sounded like a lame attempt to make peace, because Delia sputtered a bit. In truth I was interested. That little kitten had been through a lot.

  “She’s great. A little snuggle puss.” Her face relaxed as she spoke of the marmalade kitten. “And Chris really likes her, too.”

  “He seems like a real cat person.” Except for Wallis, I thought. “Strange, isn’t it? The biggest guys fall the hardest.”

  “Tell me about it.” From her tone, I knew she’d moved beyond cats.

  “So, are you and Chris…” I waited, intentionally leaving the end of the sentence open.

  “Maybe, yeah.” She nodded again, slowly. “He’ll be a good dad, I think.”

  I didn’t push further. In retrospect, maybe I should have. Instead, I watched her load Lily into the SUV. She’d put a blanket down on the back seat, and Lily climbed onto it and lay down, her stumpy tail thudding against the thick fleece. Nora might not be thrilled about her new pet, but Delia and the dog were getting along like a house on fire.

  Waiting for them to take off, I climbed up to the wraparound porch. From here, I could see the spacious living room. There was the sofa, the stone hearth of the big fireplace, and the work area beyond. The yellow crime scene tape was still up, reminding me of why I couldn’t take my key and let myself in. Not again, anyway. Anyway, from here I could see everything there was. Except that something was off. The desktop computer was gone; I’d expected that. If Creighton or anyone on his staff had any financial savvy, they’d be going over those files in some sterile lab. But it was something else, too. Maybe the cops had been careless, knocking the furniture over and then righting it again. Maybe someone else had been through the house. Delia or Mack. The cleaning lady who came once a week.

  Maybe Nora had started to pack up her son’s belongings. Because from where I stood, the house looked a little emptier, and not just from the computer. There were pictures missing from the long mantle. From the wall. One had been of Lily, I remembered. At least one more of Charles with Lily, her tail stilled by the shutter but a big doggie grin echoing her master’s. I couldn’t remember wha
t else had been pictured. The house was losing its memories. Someone was taking them.

  Had Delia gone in for a memento? Had she been searching for something more? I hadn’t told her about the computer disc. I didn’t know what she was looking for, or if she would find it there. Then I remembered the other disc, the small metal one in my pocket. I pulled out the silver tag and turned it over. “Tetris,” it said. The wrong name for the right dog.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  My phone rang again before I could get out of the driveway. Expecting Eleanor, I answered with a sharp “What?”

  “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?” It was Mack. I felt a momentary twinge of guilt.

  “Sorry. It’s been a day.”

  “For you, too?”

  I made some kind of noncommittal noise and was surprised by the answer.

  “I wanted to touch base with you, Pru, ’cause I’m going to be busy for a little while.”

  “Oh?” Mack didn’t seem like the type to get cold feet. “New business?”

  He laughed. “No, tying up some loose threads. Though, speaking of new business, I should start hustling.”

  I bit back my response, but he heard it and chuckled again. “Woman after my own heart. Hey, what about dinner next week? I’ll even cook.”

  The idea tickled me, as did his seeming reticence. “I never saw you as Susie Homemaker.”

  There was a smile in his voice as he answered. Maybe I’d imagined the uncertainty. “There, you see? I do have some good sides. Why do you think Charles kept me around?”

  “It wasn’t for your financial expertise?” I paused, recent revelations rushing in. “Or for your rakish good looks?”

  “Ah, so you’ve heard.”

  There was a pause for us both to recalibrate.

  “Well, some things make more sense now.” I was treading carefully. I didn’t want Mack to know how much I still didn’t know. “Other things…”

  “He was a good guy, Pru. A lot of people were happy just to be around him.”

  Being around him hadn’t gotten Delia pregnant, I wanted to say. But it was too soon to show my hand. “Yeah, maybe.” I remembered Eleanor’s call. I didn’t need to piss her off any more. I climbed into my car. ”Hey, can we talk later? I’ve got to get home. Eleanor Shrift may be coming by.” I hadn’t meant to test him, but he’d made it so easy.

  “Our own dragon lady! What did you do to get on her bad side?”

  “How do you know it’s her bad side?” Now he had me curious.

  “You said ‘Eleanor Shrift.’ She only has two sides, and I don’t think she’d want to seduce you.”

  This was getting interesting. “You speaking from experience here?” He paused, and I thought “Gotcha.” The idea made me strangely sad.

  “Hey, we’re adults. We had lives before now.” He was digging himself in deeper, and I remembered Creighton’s questions. If Mack hadn’t set him on me for the computer drive, then who had? The man had the morals of a coyote.

  “Gotta run, Mack.” I hung up and started the car, the company of Wallis more appealing than ever.

  The phone rang again on the way over, and I let it go to voice mail. When it started up as I pulled into my own drive, I glanced over. There was a chance it would be Eleanor. Or Creighton, even.

  It was Mack. I picked it up as I opened my front door. He seemed to think we’d been having a conversation.

  “Hey, babe, I don’t want to leave things on a bad note.”

  I snorted.

  “For Christ’s sake, Pru. I like you. Is that a crime?”

  I didn’t answer. I was going to, but just then a cry burst into my brain. “Help! Help! Murder! Help!”

  I slammed the phone shut and ran to the back porch. Coming in a tear in the screen was Wallis. In her mouth, she held a grackle. Still alive, but at the end of hope.

  “Wallis!” I didn’t have any rationale, I just yelled.

  And she responded. As gently as a mother setting down a kitten, she lowered the grackle to the windowsill and let it go. We both watched as the bird took off through the ripped screen, a flash of iridescence, purple and black. Then she turned toward me.

  “What?” There was a message there, only I wasn’t getting it.

  She tilted her head slightly, and suddenly I did.

  “That’s different.” I knew she would sense my sudden anger, as well as hear it. “I’m not playing with him.”

  “What’s different is, I could have made an honest meal out of that bird.” And with that she jumped off the worn settee and sauntered into the house.

  ***

  Maybe Wallis had a point. At any rate, I figured I might as well confront my own particular catch. I hit call.

  “Mack, I need to see you.”

  “Now?” If I didn’t know better, I’d have said he was cowed.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Well, I was thinking tomorrow night, since it’ll be Saturday and all. Or maybe next week.”

  Who was he avoiding, me or Eleanor? Either had possibilities. “No, Mack. If you want to see me at all, you’ll come over now.” I thought about adding “please,” but I was in a mood. As it was, I heard something that sounded like assent. I ended the call and went to look for Floyd.

  By the time the doorbell rang, twenty minutes later, I’d found the Persian. He’d been sleeping on my bed, deep in dreams of a big hand warm and steady on his fur. I sat there longer than necessary, trying to find some identifying mark on that hand. No wedding ring, but that didn’t mean much—not in this town. I left him sleeping—and snoring—and went downstairs to answer it, curious as to whether Mack or Eleanor had shown up. If it were both, we might be in for some entertainment.

  I had placed my mental bet on Eleanor when I opened the door to see Mack, looking strangely subdued.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

  He smiled, but when I stepped back to let him pass, he turned away.

  “Can we go somewhere?” He wasn’t meeting my eyes, and instead seemed focused on a spot halfway down my door jam.

  “No, we can’t.” I tried to read him. If only he’d look up. “Eleanor Shrift might be coming by. I’ve got her cat.”

  I would have said more. Would have explained, but at that moment Mack winced. It was a quick reaction, and I wished I hadn’t seen it. But I had.

  “Eleanor? Mack, really.”

  “Pru, does it matter so much?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t know why it bothered me. I’d hardly been celibate before meeting Mack, and the affair was clearly over. Maybe it was his cavalier treatment of the older woman. Then it hit me: Floyd. Eleanor’s lover had broken the black Persian’s heart, and that I found hard to forgive.

  “No, it doesn’t.” I felt my throat choke up at my lie. “Okay, not entirely. But it does say something about your taste.”

  “Hey, it was one night. If I hadn’t had a good run at Happy’s, I’d never have gone for her.”

  “Such a gentleman.” A liar, too. A cat doesn’t bond like that overnight. “And you ratted me out to Creighton, too.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The drive, the one that was missing from Lily’s collar.”

  “Lily? What the hell, Pru.”

  I caught myself. Shit, this whole animal thing tripped me up at just the worst moments. “Lily. Charles’ dog. The one he called Tetris? There was a flash drive attached to her collar —”

  “Hey, come on, Pru.” He was backing away now. Something was wrong. Something I didn’t understand. “You don’t know the whole story.”

  “Mack Danton.” I used my command voice. “Talk to me.”

  He didn’t, but standing there I saw him clearly as I hadn’t before, in all my anger. He looked shamefaced, kicking at the ground like a little boy.

  “What’s going on with you, Mack.” I was curious now, my anger on hold. “You look like shit.”

  “It’s nothing.” He rubbed his sleeve across his face.
>
  “Yeah, right.”

  “I don’t like cats, okay? Not all cats, but, well, most cats. I’ve got allergies, and well…”

  He looked down. Away. Anywhere but straight at me. “Mack Danton, you’re afraid of cats.” He didn’t look up. He didn’t have to. I was connecting the dots. “So you couldn’t have been Eleanor Shrift’s summer lover,” I said. There was something else. Something Wallis had said. Or, no, Delia…but Mack was still talking.

  “I told you. That was a one-time thing.” He seemed more confused than angry.

  “Okay, I’m sorry, hon. I believe you.” I moved toward him. Seeing him like this only made him sweeter. Maybe I do have those instincts. “We can go to your place.”

  I pressed against him, his body warm and hard. He drew back, and I leaned in, placing my hand against his thigh. And he flinched.

  “Sorry. Old ski injury” He reached for my hand.

  “You didn’t mind outside Happy’s.” I wanted him, but my mind was racing. Making connections. I pulled my fingers out of his and reached down for his hip. He relaxed and moved in to kiss me. But as his lips met mine, I ran my hand down his thigh again—right to where my hand would naturally reach—and squeezed.

  “Ow! Hey.” He pulled my hand up again, less gently this time.

  “What’s the matter, Mack? Someone stab you in that thigh?” I pulled back. I wanted my knife hand free.

  “Wait a minute, Pru. Just wait. You’re jumping to conclusions.” He reached out to me, and as he grabbed me, I thought of the arms around me the other night, and I knew that I was right.

  “No way,” I backed up. “Not again.”

  It hit me, then. All the charm, all the seduction. It had been Mack all along. Mack had access. As Charles’ partner, he undoubtedly had the keys and knew of any alarm codes. Charles wouldn’t have expected it, either. How? Well, that would be up to Creighton to find out. Somehow, Mack had torn his partner’s throat open and then released Lily from her crate. A wave of fury washed through me. Murder and a frame up. That meant he’d planned it. And here I’d been close to falling for him. I stepped back.

  “You killed Charles, didn’t you?” I heard my words as if they’d come from somewhere else. Trouble was, they made sense.