Karma's A Bitch (A Pet Psychic Mystery)

by Esposito, Shannon

  “All right, look.” Detective Blake rubbed the space between his eyes and sighed. I noticed a distinct lack of a wedding band. Gah! Stop it, Darwin. This heat was really getting to me. “Since I have a feeling you’re not going to listen to anything I tell you, I’ll tell you this as a warning. Last month a guy named Harold Barber got released from jail. He’s homeless, though I don’t think he stays at Pirate City. They call him Scary Harry.”

  Sounded like a Sesame Street character to me. I imagined him with purple fur and big black eyebrows.

  “He’s a really, really dangerous guy, Darwin. We’ve been trying to keep tabs on him but he’s slippery. If it turns out Matthew Fowler’s death was not a suicide—”

  “Matthew Fowler?”

  “Yes. That was Mad Dog’s real name.”

  I let this sink in. Matthew Fowler. I knew his real name now, which was something.

  “If it turns out his death was a homicide, we’ll look to him first.” He shook his head slightly. “And I’m not telling you this to fuel your need to find out what happened to your friend. You stay away from the guy.” He paused and his eyes moved to the street. “Can I ask you something?”

  “You’re the detective.” I shrugged and sipped my tea.

  “What was the nature of your relationship with Mr. Fowler?”

  It took me a second to realize he was asking about Mad Dog. “He was my friend. I told you that.”

  “That’s all? Just friends?”

  Whoa.Was he asking as a detective? Something in his tone, almost embarrassment, told me it wasn’t just a professional question. I decided to be honest with him. Well, as honest as I could be.

  “I didn’t have many friends in Savannah, detective. My sisters and I were sort of sheltered growing up—homeschooled, that sort of thing.” Boy, was that an understatement. “Besides my business partner, Sylvia, at the boutique, Mad Dog was the first friend I made here. Homeless or not, he had a good heart. He loved this dog and took care of him the best he could. And Karma loved him. That tells you a lot about a person. Yeah, he was messed up from his military service, but he was nice. I enjoyed his company. He didn’t deserve to have his life taken away so soon.”

  Detective Blake leaned back in the chair. “You really believe he was murdered, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? I mean, besides the fact that you don’t think he fell off the wagon? What makes you so certain?”

  Because Karma showed me parts of what really happened that night, shared his fear and rage with me. I took a bite of my croissant to give myself a moment to think.

  He was giving me a chance to convince him. I had a feeling he wanted to believe me, but his was a profession based on facts, not hunches. I wiggled in the chair; my legs sticky with sweat. He must have seen the struggle in my face because he leaned forward again, his eyes catching mine and the rest of our surroundings disappeared. I swallowed hard.

  “Go on, Darwin. If you know something you can trust me with it.”

  Yeah, I knew I could trust him. With real information. I could trust him to do the right thing with a solid lead. But, I couldn’t trust anybody with knowledge of my gift. It only provoked fear and malice. I had learned that lesson well and was not going to screw up the chance I had to start over, in a new city, with people who thought I was a normal business owner. Nope. No matter how much he opened himself up, giving me a chance. I couldn’t do it.

  “I just knew Mad Dog, that’s all.”

  He leaned back and nodded. I could sense the disappointment coming off of him in waves. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry any more. I had never gotten images from people but I did feel their emotions. In this case, I wasn’t sure where his disappointment started and mine ended.

  “Well, time for me to open up the boutique.” I gathered our plates and cups onto the tray. I could still feel his eyes on me. He expected something from me. But what? The truth, probably. He knew I was holding back. I snuck a glance at him as I reached down for Karma’s plate. The muscle in his jaw twitched like he was chewing on something. Yeah, he knew.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I sat under one of the oversized red umbrellas at the Moon Under Water restaurant waiting for Frankie Maslow. She had agreed to dinner tonight to discuss some fund raising ideas for the homeless. Karma was stretched out on the brick walkway between my chair and a large white lion statue. It was a gorgeous tropical evening, still hot enough to be grateful for the tall fans circulating the air around the tables. I slipped my sunglasses off as the sun sank low enough off the bay that I didn’t need them. It had been a good day. I settled into contentment as I studied the menu. Everything looked delicious. What was I in the mood for? Something spicy. Yeah, being outside in the heat made me crave spicy food.

  The waitress approached wearing a red shirt and kaki’s. “Hi, Can I start you off with a drink?”

  “Oh, sure, I’ll have a glass of Guinness. I’m waiting on someone to order dinner, though.”

  “No problem, I’ll bring that right out.”

  A band played on the porch of the hotel next door. I could still hear bits of conversation going on around me. A few minutes later, I spotted Frankie strutting down the sidewalk and had to smile at her eclectic way of dressing. She received a fair amount of attention in her zebra striped pants, which hugged her amble figure, a white tank top studded with red and black sequins and a red straw hat.

  I waved her over.

  “Darwin!” She air kissed my cheeks as I stood to greet her. “I’m so glad you called.” Her perfect square teeth had a smear of red lipstick. I found myself running my tongue across my own teeth.

  The waitress came up behind her and smiled. “Oh, hey, Frankie. What can I get for you tonight?”

  “Hi, Amanda. Just bring us a bottle of your best Bourdeaux, sugar. And a couple of those rock shrimp appetizers for starters.” She fell into the chair across from me with a loud sigh. “I should have gone for a massage today. Oh, I’ve got the best girl.” She rubbed a shoulder with a plump hand. “Veronica Wilkens. You have to come with me one day, Darwin. You won’t find a gal with better hands.”

  “Oh.” I cleared my throat. I’d never had a massage before. “Sure. That’d be nice.”

  “So, how did you enjoy Landon Stark’s show? Isn’t he just amazing?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. Her perfume smelled expensive. “Sometimes I think he’s the real thing…you know, really magic. Some of things he does.” She shook her head. “Damn near impossible, I’ll tell ya.”

  Huh. She believed in real magic? Interesting. My mind wandered for a moment, imagining I could share some of the things I knew with her. Then I shook it off. Somehow I didn’t imagine she would be good at keeping secrets. Taking a sip of the frothy beer, I decided I better get down to business.

  “So, I heard that you’re involved in working with the homeless around here, taking meals to Mirror Park every Sunday?”

  “Mhm. Oh, these just look delicious,” she said as Amanda slid the appetizers in front of us and opened the bottle of Bordeaux. “Yepper. I used to be one of the homeless, you know. Lived in Pirate City and everything. The way I see it, I won that lottery for the homeless community, not just me. Gotta take care of our family, right? Of course,” she held up a hand as she chewed on a rock shrimp. “I never imagined the perks that would come with having money. I mean, it’s not just not worrying anymore where your next meal is coming from. It’s not having to feel embarrassed, it’s feeling safe, it’s having people look at you like you’re a human being, for cripes sake, instead of ignoring you or being scared of you cause you haven’t had a place to shower for weeks.” She paused to take a large swallow of red wine. I could see her struggling with the anger still, the hurt. I tried to guard myself from the waves of sadness washing over me, but they rolled in strong and squeezed my chest. I stayed silent, hoping it would help her to talk it out. She forced a smile. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I believe you learn something from every experience. B
eing homeless taught me humility, taught me to be humble. Helped me to see inside people, beyond their disabilities or current situations. We are all brothers and sisters. All the same inside.”

  I raised my mug. “Amen, Frankie.”

  She looked sheepish as she clinked glasses. “I’m sorry. I know I get preachy sometimes.”

  “Not at all. Sounds like you have a lot to share with people from your experiences.”

  We spent the next hour or so sharing our ideas for a fundraiser, laughing and munching on the wonderful food she kept ordering. I did sneak in an order for some vegetable curry to satisfy my need for something spicy. At one point, Karma stretched and stood up beside me, sniffing the table. I noticed Frankie startle.

  “You hungry, Karma?” I offered him a sausage roll. “This is Karma, he’s harmless.” I smiled at Frankie.

  She held a hand to her chest. “Scared me, I didn’t know you had a dog back there.” Then her eyes narrowed. “He looks familiar.”

  “Yeah, you might have seen him around with his former owner, Mad Dog. He was homeless, killed a few weeks ago.”

  Frankie wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin, succeeding in wiping off her lipstick in the process. She looked pale. “Oh, yeah. I heard about that. The suicide? Now I recognize Karma.”

  “Yeah, he’s been really depressed. Loved Mad Dog to pieces. He’s doing better now.” I rubbed his head. He was staring at Frankie like he recognized her, too. “But, you know, I don’t believe he committed suicide.”

  “You don’t? Why not?”

  “Well, for one, the police think he got drunk and drowned. But, I know Mad Dog wouldn’t drink. He had gotten sober for Karma.”

  “Huh.” She finished off her glass of wine and poured another. “For a dog? That’s unusual. Anything else makes you suspicious?”

  I almost felt like I could confide in her. Almost. “I don’t know. I spent some time with him the week he died and well, there is the fact that he kept showing up with injuries, bruises and hurt ribs. Someone was hurting him and he wouldn’t go to the police.”

  Frankie nodded in understanding. “There’s one thing you have to realize, Darwin. When you’re homeless, the police aren’t your friend. Their job is to keep us out of the way, as invisible as possible.” She waved a piece of pita bread at me. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the police who were beatin’ on him. There’s a unit that deals with street crimes got a couple of bad apples on it. I had run-ins with ‘em myself. Mean suckers.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t imagine. I guess it would make sense if that were the case. That’s why he wouldn’t go to the police. “Do you know their names? I’ve got a friend…well, acquaintance I guess, that could maybe look into it?”

  She shook her head. “Your best bet, sugar, is just to stay out of it. You don’t want those cops on your bad side. They can make a person disappear and make it look like their idea.”

  Like Mad Dog. I sighed and glanced around. Night had fallen and the tables around us were beginning to empty out. Why did everyone’s advice have to be “stay out of it”? I wish that were an option. It wasn’t.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  An afternoon thunderstorm forced people off the streets for a bit and pushed them into the Beach Drive shops and restaurants to wait it out. A few of our customers stood chatting in front of the window, not willing to brave the downpour that was sending water gushing down the street. Sylvia stood beside Nelly Michaels and fluffed out her bichon’s bangs like a proud hairdresser. I heard her laugh. “Hey, Darwin?”

  I was perched on the stool behind the counter, watching gray sheets of rain tumble out of the sky. “Yes?”

  “Nelly and the girls want to know what kind of fragrance we sprayed in here to make it smell so good?”

  Oh geeze. I glanced back at Karma and then held up my hands. “It’s um…Eu da dog rose.” This sent Sylvia into peals of laughter. Karma pushed himself off his bed and came over to rest his head on my lap. “It’s okay, boy.” I smoothed the wrinkles in his brow. “It could have been worse. You could have drunk skunk water.”

  The phone rang, almost bringing me out of my skin.

  Heavens on a hilltop, I was going to have to start bathing in flower essence to take care of these frazzled nerves. “Darwin’s Pet Boutique.”

  “Hi, is this Miss Winters…ah, Darwin?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Detective Blake.”

  “Oh,” My heart did a tiny flip. I pushed a hand through my hair, trying to tame the short waves as if he could see me. “Hi, detective. What can I do for you?”

  “Actually, I have some information for you. Thought it might help you get some closure with the loss of your friend. We were given a note last night that was found at Pirate City.” He paused. “It was a suicide note. Signed by Mad Dog.”

  What?! No. no. no. That was not possible. I glanced down at Karma, stretched out on his side on the giant pillow bed Sylvia had bought for him. Or was it possible? Could Mad Dog really have decided death was better than the life he had with Karma? I mean, he was homeless. What kind of life was it really? So, why was suicide so hard for me to believe?

  “Darwin? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah.” I felt numb. Confused. “Yes. I’m here.” A flash of lightning lit up Beach Drive. A deep rumble rolled through on its heels. This news brought up more questions than answers for me. It made me doubt myself and it made me doubt Mad Dog. And that made me feel like a stone had dropped from my heart into my stomach. I had to get off the phone so I could breathe. “Okay. I…I appreciate you letting me know, detective. Thank you.” I hung up. Now what?

  “Sylvia, I’m going to go get us some lunch.” I heard my voice but felt disconnected from it.

  Sylvia glanced up from straightening the collars. Her noon appointment was late. “You want to wait a few moments, the storm will go away?”

  “No. I’ll be fine.” I pulled the umbrella out from beneath the counter. “French onion soup from Cassis?”

  “Sure.”

  I felt her concern as I left, but she didn’t push me for information, which I appreciated because I had no idea what I could say. I had no idea how I felt about this new piece of information. Except sad and maybe a bit angry. And confused. Yeah, definitely that.

  The sidewalk was already flooded so my flip flops squished with each step. I didn’t bother with the umbrella so my hair and cotton dress both clung to me as I pushed through the rain. The tiny needles of chilly rain gave me something to focus on, something to feel besides numb. It was a welcome distraction.

  I leaned against the wall outside after I placed my order, protected from the storm by the building’s architecture but shivering from being soaked to the bone already. I watched the rain splash on the wide sidewalk, on the row of green umbrellas over empty tables lined up against Beach Drive. I should have asked what the note said exactly. Would he have been able to tell me? And who gave it to them? Mad Dog’s tent had a new owner. Why didn’t they find it sooner? His back pack had gone missing, so they didn’t get it from there. Unless they had found his back pack? That’s the most likely place he would have left a note…if he did, in fact, leave one. Okay, if they found the back pack, maybe there was something else in it, some other clue as to what was going on in his life at the time of his death. That’s it. I had to go back to Pirate City and find out.

  ***

  We closed at six and I was on my way to Pirate City by six forty-five, Karma by my side, a Ziploc bag full of ice cold, lemon cookies in my pack for G. I probably should have waited until the weekend, when I had more than an hour and a half before night fall, but I felt like the more time that went by, the more likely Mad Dog’s death would get lost in the system.

  What if I couldn’t figure out what happened? What if he was murdered and that person was just walking the streets? I pedaled faster, glancing back to make sure Karma was keeping up. I had to smile at his wide lope, tongue flapping beside his jaw. He really
was a sweet boy.

  I parked my bike against the tree under the No Trespassing sign and walked into the camp.

  “Hey there, Snow White.” Pops chuckled. He was playing cards with Minnie and two others I didn’t recognize. Another group hung out in broken lawn chairs, passing around a joint with a tiny glowing tip.

  I waved. “Hey, guys.”

  “Oh, hi, nice lady!” G appeared and ambled toward me clutching a shoebox. “You brought some cookies?”

  “Hi, G. Yes, I brought some cookies.” I pulled the Ziploc bag from my pack and handed it over to G. He cradled the shoebox as if it were breakable and accepted the bag. I noticed his hand shaking.

  “What’s in the box, G?”

  He didn’t answer me, just nodded with a big old toothless grin and walked away. Probably for the best I didn’t know anyway.

  I moved closer to the table. “Is Mac here?”

  “Yeah, he’s in his office.” Pop paused from organizing his cards and motioned to the large blue tarp to my right.

  “Thanks.” I headed that way with Karma at my heels. The tarp did offer some shade but it was still hot as Hades under there. Probably a lot more humid, too. I stepped inside, being careful not to trip on the rug that had begun to rot and mingle with the soil. “Hi, Mac.” Mac sat at a table and glanced up at me from the paper in his hand.

  “Couldn’t stay away, eh?” he snorted. His attention went back to the paper. “What can I do ya for, Snow White?”

  Wow. Didn’t take long for a nickname to stick around here. I glanced at the man who sat across from him. I didn’t recognize him from my last visit. He didn’t seem too interested in what I was there for so I just came out with it.

  “The police said someone from here turned in a suicide note from Mad Dog. That true?”