Killing Trail: A Timber Creek K-9 Mystery

by Margaret Mizushima

  “I checked out Dean Hornsby,” Stella said.

  “Oh?” Mattie was still thinking about Willie.

  “Yeah. He wasn’t in our system, no criminal background, so I Googled him. Turns out he’s the tampon king of Arizona.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Sole heir to the Assurance products fortune. Just sold the company for a couple million.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  Stella grinned. “I went out to their new compound to check him out. You’re right, he’s damn weird. And that Anya, who works for him? She’s weird too.”

  “You can’t arrest someone for being weird.”

  Stella shook her head. “If you could, my ex-in-laws would’ve been locked up long before I met them.”

  Mattie smiled.

  Stella’s demeanor became serious. “I think they’re worth pursuing. Hornsby seemed mad as hell to see me, said he was going to sue for harassment. Anya seemed to calm him down, and he made the right choice to stick around for some questions. They say they were both present and accounted for there at the health spa on Friday morning. Of course, they’re each other’s alibis. Makes it real handy. If we find something else on the guy, we could bring him in and question him here. Or any of the other people out there, for that matter.”

  Mattie had run the plate on the vehicle parked at Brody’s after she returned home last night. It belonged to a dark-gray Ford Escape registered to Adrienne Howard, the massage therapist she’d met at the hot springs yesterday morning. She hesitated to share this with Stella. So far she had nothing solid against either one of them, Brody or Ms. Howard. She decided to sit on it a little longer.

  Stella was still talking. “And I made some copies of a couple of pages from the kid’s diary last night that I’d like for you to see. It’s damn sad reading the thing, and I respect the kid’s privacy. Other than these two pages that pertain to the case, I don’t plan to share it with others.”

  “I respect that decision,” Mattie replied.

  “Can we grab a cup of coffee and meet outside at the picnic table for a minute while I have a cigarette?”

  Mattie checked her watch. “I have about ten minutes before briefing.”

  “Let’s postpone the coffee. I’ll just go for the cigarette.”

  Mattie followed the older woman down the sidewalk to the side of the building where there was a covered picnic table meant for employees to have lunch but used mostly as a spot for them to take a cigarette break. This early in the morning, the area was deserted.

  While Stella lit up, she said, “You look like someone’s holding you hostage this morning? What’s up?”

  Mattie marveled at the detective’s perceptiveness. “My brother called my foster-mom and told her to ask me if I’d want to talk to him.”

  “This is the brother you haven’t heard from since he left town? Years ago, right?”

  “Yeah. Since we were kids.”

  “Hot damn.” Stella took another hit on her cigarette. “And you got his phone number, right?”

  “He didn’t leave it.”

  “Caller ID?”

  “Mama has an old rotary phone.”

  “We could get her phone records.”

  Mattie smiled at the lengths Stella seemed willing to go. “That won’t be necessary. He’ll call her back, and then he’ll call me.”

  “Okay. But what if he doesn’t?”

  “He will.”

  “Don’t postpone this, Mattie. What are you afraid of? You still functioning under the misconception that what happened to your family is all your fault?”

  Mattie paused, no longer sure how she felt but knowing she could never admit it and face Stella’s wrath. “No.”

  Stella gave a skeptical look. “One thing I learned a long time ago, Mattie—and you should remember this—is that it’s okay to get out of an abusive situation. You don’t have to beat up on yourself just because you refuse to let someone else do it.” She sucked another lungful of cigarette smoke while Mattie stared back at her and said nothing.

  “Let’s move on,” Stella said, shifting to a more businesslike manner and reaching into her case to retrieve two copied pages covered in plastic sheets. She handed them to Mattie.

  Quickly, Mattie scanned the pages for dates. There were only two entries, one made the week before Grace’s murder and one made the very day. The first entry read,

  Followed M and his dogs to a cabin up Ute Canyon, and I’m parked at a spot just a little ways up where I can watch without him noticing me. He takes a dog inside one at a time and then brings it out to the trailer. WTF is he doing? I wish I could ask, but he’d freak if he knew I’ve been following him.

  Mattie glanced at Stella, who blew a thin stream of smoke out of her pursed lips. She went on to the next one, the one made on the day of the girl’s murder.

  Followed M back to the same spot. Today there’s another car here, a gray SUV kinda like mine. M keeps taking the dogs back and forth. This is so lame sitting here watching him through binoculars. I’m going down there to see what’s going on!!!!

  With a dull ache in her chest, Mattie looked at the detective.

  Mouth downturned, Stella said, “My guess is, they weren’t too pleased to see her.” She moved her cigarette back up to her lips.

  Mattie just shook her head. “I wish she’d written down the plate.”

  A snort released some smoke from Stella’s nostrils. “Tell me about it. We’d be making an arrest about now.”

  “I’m glad for the parents’ sake that there’ll be no more speculation about her involvement with the drug ring.”

  The conversation died while Stella took a last drag on her cigarette, threw it in the grass, and then stubbed it out with the toe of her shoe.

  Mattie said, “Guess it’s time to go inside.”

  Brody came strutting around the corner of the building, headed their way. “Cobb! Are you going to work today or just sit around smoking cigarettes with the detective?”

  Stella’s annoyance was evident.

  “I’m on it,” Mattie told him, getting up from the bench.

  “What?” Brody said to Stella, gesturing with his hands, palms up.

  “Just reminded me of an argument that Deputy Cobb and I had about male and female cops,” Stella said. “Now, let’s go to work and try to do some good.”

  Chapter 23

  “I want braids. Mommy always makes braids for me.”

  Sophie’s whiny voice made Cole wish for a nanny. No wonder Liv was worn down.

  “Sophie, I tell you what. If you don’t stop that whining, I’m going to send you to your room, breakfast or no breakfast. Do you hear? I can’t take it anymore.”

  Sophie hugged the stuffed rabbit she’d found on the kitchen chair, where, in the excitement of getting Belle last night, he’d forgotten and left it. She stuffed one of its ears into her mouth. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clamped her teeth. She looked sadder than a wet cat.

  Good Lord. The kid was suffering and all he could do was yell at her. He ought to be shot and put out of his own misery. “Come here, little bit.”

  Cole wrapped his arms around his youngest and rocked her gently until she relaxed into him, sobbing out her lonesomeness.

  “I want Mommy,” she said between sobs.

  “I know, I know.” Cole continued to rock her, side to side.

  He’d tried to reach Olivia last night by phone, but either she was away from home or she was screening calls and decided not to pick up. He hated to be paranoid, but he thought it was probably the latter. Finally, he’d left the message that he and kids missed her, and he had some important local news he needed to tell her.

  He’d hesitated to ask her to call him back; he’d already done that many times to no avail. But it just didn’t seem right that she learn about Grace’s death on the news or, worse yet, through the grapevine. Olivia had known the girl since the children were first graders, and he knew the news would be a shock to
her.

  Besides, it would be nice to hear her voice.

  Eventually, Sophie settled down, and he set her away from himself at arm’s length. “Let’s see, now. Did you bring a hairbrush? Yes? Let’s see what we can do about those braids.”

  “Can you braid hair?” Sophie was trying hard not to whine, something Cole appreciated more than he could say.

  “How hard can it be? I used to braid reins when I was a kid. I was pretty good at it, too. Can’t be much different.”

  Cole ran the hairbrush through Sophie’s brown curls, working with the tangles as gently as possible.

  “Did you brush your teeth?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do that right after breakfast, okay?”

  Sophie hugged the rabbit to her chest, head bowed, noncommittal.

  Using the brush, Cole made a swipe at parting the hair down the back of Sophie’s head. It resulted in a crooked line, off center, so he tried again. The second time was a little better. He parted the hair of one half into four strands and began trying to weave it into a flat braid, like he’d once done with leather. But the curly stuff didn’t hold together, and he quickly became all thumbs.

  Dropping the hair, he picked up the brush again for another pass. “Where’s your sister?”

  “She’s still in bed.”

  “Geez,” Cole said, irritation starting to give him a knot at the base of his neck. What happened to the excitement about going to work?

  “Just a minute, Sophie-bug.” Cole went to the base of the staircase and hollered upstairs. “Angela?”

  No answer.

  “Angela!”

  In a grumpy voice, Angela shouted back, “What?”

  “Are you up?”

  “Yes!”

  “Leave the attitude and come down for breakfast.”

  No response.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes!”

  “Good God,” Cole muttered under his breath.

  He went back to Sophie, who had settled herself on one of the barstools pulled up to the kitchen island and was pouring milk into a bowl of Cheerios.

  “Let’s give those braids another go,” he said, picking up the brush. This time, it seemed like the extra height lent by the barstool gave him a different angle and a better grip on the silky strands of curly hair. He had one braid done, secured by a rubber band, and was starting on the second one when Angela came into the room wearing denim shorts, a low-cut tank top, and a sour expression.

  Angela took one look at the first braid, which was sticking out at a funny angle, shook her head, and snorted.

  “Those are sweet braids you’ve got going on there, Sophie.”

  Sophie scowled.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Cole asked.

  “You’re supposed to divide the hair in three parts, not four.”

  “So we’re doing it a different way.”

  “Different is not always good.”

  Cole gave Angela a look.

  She shrugged and went to the counter to pour herself some cereal. “Just keeping it real.”

  “These braids are okay, Sophie. In fact, they look real cute.” Cole secured the second braid with another rubber band and stepped back to examine his handiwork. The braids reminded him of Pippi Longstocking’s. He moved around the island to get a frontal view. “I like it. It looks great. In fact, you’ll probably set a new fashion trend in Timber Creek.”

  Angela snorted again.

  He could tell Sophie was torn between believing him and believing her sister. She started to climb off the barstool, presumably to go take a look at her hair for herself.

  “Finish your breakfast, Sophie. We’ve got to go.”

  Belle got up from where she’d been lying on the floor and limped over to the door.

  “Looks like Belle needs to go outside. We don’t have any more time for hair. We’ve got work to do.”

  Sophie scooped the last few bites into her mouth and then headed for the door with Belle, letting them both out into the yard.

  Cole frowned at Angela. “You need to be nicer to your sister. She’s having a hard enough time without you teasing her.”

  “I wasn’t teasing, Dad. You’re going to let her go up to the clinic with her hair like that?”

  “Good grief, it’s only hair. And there’s nothing wrong with it.” Cole turned to more important matters. “I need your help today, Angel. I thought we had a plan. Let’s get it rolling, okay?”

  “Whatever.” She placed her cereal bowl in the kitchen sink.

  “Did you think about Mr. Brennaman’s offer to work in the front office this year? You’re supposed to let him know today.”

  She shook her head and frowned. “I think it would be creepy, Dad. You know, to take Grace’s job like that.”

  Cole had wondered how she’d feel about it and had already decided that if she didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t push her. She still had two more years after this one to do that sort of thing if she wanted. “It’s okay with me if you don’t want it. But try to remember to call him sometime this morning. I don’t know if I’ll be able to remind you once I get started.”

  “I’ll do it. You don’t have to nag me about it.”

  He hoped her mood improved soon. “I wasn’t nagging, Ange.”

  She muttered something as she went out the door, causing Cole to sigh.

  Tess was already at the clinic, sitting at the computer, when they finally made it to work. Cole had called her earlier to let her know about Grace so that he wouldn’t have to talk to her about it in front of the kids.

  “Good morning!” Tess seemed to be armed with her usual cheerfulness. But upon seeing Sophie, her eyebrows shot up. “Sophie, girl, come here for a second.”

  Dutifully, Sophie went over to stand in front of her. Tess grasped her shoulders and turned her side to side, then once around, inspecting the little girl’s hairdo. “Did you do your own hair this morning, honey?”

  “My daddy did it.”

  A smile tweaked the corner of Tess’s mouth. “Lovely,” she said, sending Cole a look with eyes that twinkled.

  “Is it all right if I adjust these braids a little bit for you?” Tess reached to take off one rubber band and undo the braid without waiting for an answer. “Here, I have a comb in my purse. Let me get it.”

  “I told you, Dad,” Angela muttered as she flopped down in a chair in the waiting room.

  Not used to feeling inadequate in his environment, Cole leaned over the counter to grab his schedule book and then withdrew into the treatment room to organize supplies for the day. He could hear Tess and Sophie talking.

  “Why don’t I make some nice French braids? Would you like that?”

  “Yes, I would. Mommy does those for me a lot.”

  “Good. You have lovely hair, Sophie. Is it naturally curly?”

  “I guess so.”

  There was silence for a few moments, but Cole winced at Sophie’s next words.

  “My mom and dad got a divorce.”

  He listened while the conversation skipped a beat. Although sure that Tess must have heard the town gossip, he’d never told her about his family problems.

  “Are you feeling okay about that?”

  Cole thought Tess probably knew that he could hear them talking. He felt himself flush like a kid caught spying.

  “No,” Sophie said, her voice thin and strained. “I’m sad.”

  “It’s okay to feel sad, Sophie. You have a lot to feel sad about right now. Here, let me give you a hug.” There was a long pause. “Now, we’re all done with your hair, and it’s sooo pretty. Sometimes when we’re sad, it’s good to stay busy. Why don’t I show you how to wash those syringes over there with that teensy brush? Won’t that be fun?”

  “Okay.”

  “And, Angie, I want to teach you how to work this computer program to check in patients. That would help us out a bunch.”

  Cole felt relieved to have Tess take on his children for the
morning. Hearing the front door open for the first customer of the day, old Mrs. Holly and her sick cat, he moved toward the lobby to greet her and get started with the day’s schedule.

  Once involved with his clients, and with Tess to keep his daughters occupied, the rest of the morning went much more smoothly. He was wrapping things up around noon when Tess told him he had a call from a Tiffany Markley. He picked up the extension in the exam room, tucking the phone onto his shoulder with his chin while he started to clean up after his last patient.

  But when the woman said, “I’m calling about some Bernese mountain dogs owned by Mike Chadron,” she had his full attention.

  “Yes?”

  “I own a boarding kennel just south of Denver, and Mike left his dogs with me Saturday morning. I see that you’ve signed off on his health records.”

  “Yes, how many dogs did he leave with you?”

  “Ten.”

  That matched the number he’d found in his records when Mattie had asked for it. “Are his dogs still with you?”

  “Yes, they are. That’s why I’m calling. Mike said he’d call me back yesterday and arrange a time to pick them up this morning, but I haven’t heard from him. He doesn’t answer the phone number he left with me. I wondered if you might help me get in touch with him.”

  That might be difficult. “I hate to break the news so suddenly, but Mike died last Saturday night.”

  “Oh my goodness, that’s terrible. What happened?”

  “It looks like a suicide. But the police have been looking for his dog trailer and his dogs.”

  “His trailer is parked behind my kennel. I told him he could leave it there. Oh my word!”

  “Yes, it’s a shock. I need to get your name and number so that I can pass it on to my contact at the sheriff’s office here. Her name is Deputy Mattie Cobb. I’m sure she’ll be calling you soon.”

  Cole wrote down the information. “Tell me, have the dogs been sick?”

  “Well, that was odd, too. Mike said he’d tried a new diet for the dogs, a raw chicken diet, and it gave them diarrhea. He said he didn’t want them to be stressed by transporting them while he went back home to pack. He said he planned to move to Canada.” She paused to take a breath. “My goodness, what am I going to do with these dogs?”