by Annie Knox
“I’m gonna give you a little free intel. That reporter fella, Daniel Colona, he did call me a couple of times, but he wasn’t interested in hunting. He was interested in the owls.”
“Owls?”
“Dryden burrowing owls, to be precise. A whole bunch of them, hunkered down living in the woodlands right by the marsh. Just a stone’s throw from Olson’s construction site.”
“Dryden’s burrowing owls? I’ve never heard of them,” I said.
Kevin cackled. “Probably haven’t heard of them because there aren’t very many of them to hear about. They’re endangered. And that’s a big problem for ol’ Hal. Because his building activities are disturbing the ecosystem of a highly endangered animal.”
I thought about Daniel’s journal. The initials DNR—Department of Natural Resources—next to the vase with the olives. Which wasn’t a vase with olives. It was a burrow in the ground occupied by a wide-eyed owl. Daniel wasn’t investigating Hal’s investors; he was investigating the environmental impact of the development.
Sean didn’t seem impressed. “You keep up with the endangered species list? I thought you didn’t care about all those hunting regulations.”
Kevin eyed Sean from head to toe and back again. “Mr. Fancy Pants Lawyer,” he mocked. “I absolutely keep up with all the hunting regulations. Look, as far as I’m concerned a critter is a critter and men were meant to hunt. Deer doesn’t care if it’s killed in October or June, whether it’s day or night, so why should I care? Still, I keep up with everything the DNR does. I offer a very specialized service, and those regulations and lists help me keep up with just how much that specialized service is worth.”
Ah. So the more endangered the species, the more Kevin could charge the men who wanted his help in hunting it.
I felt the hair rising on the back of my neck. This could be it. If The Woods at Badger Lake was threatening an endangered species, that would be a heck of a story for Daniel Colona. And if Hal was in danger of being shut down by that story, that gave him a powerful motive to get rid of Daniel before he filed his report with the Madison Standard.
“Did Hal know about the owls?” I asked.
“Sure did.”
“How do you know?” Sean asked.
“Because I was the one who told him. Went white as the road to Fargo when I mentioned it.”
“Did he know that Daniel Colona was interested in the owls?”
Kevin chuckled, the sound as dark and unctuous as crude oil. “Yep. I told him that, too. Like I said, I felt like I owed Hal for all the years of mutually beneficial business dealings. But when he tries to use me as an alibi, gets me wrapped up in a murder investigation, well, I’m done with him.”
* * *
That night I’d promised to bring home pizza from Del Monico’s for Ingrid, Harvey, and Rena. After our stint with the Lahtis, I was a little on the late side, but Del Monico’s was still open. Stewart Paglio owned the place—a classic Italian restaurant three buildings down from Xander’s Spin Doctor record store. He was a short, pale, balding man in his midfifties, a widower with two grown children who lived in Chicago. His whole life was wrapped up in his restaurant, and the menu—and the food—showed his commitment to quality.
Because we were practically neighbors, we had a deal that I could phone in an order and pick it up at his back door, so I only had to walk a few yards down the alley instead of walking clear around the block. I’d called from Sean’s car, and the food was ready as soon as I got to the restaurant.
I carried my bounty up the back stairs to my apartment: a pizza box holding a pie that was half sausage- and-onion (for Ingrid and Harvey) and half mushroom- and-olive (for Rena and me), a bag of Stewart’s world-famous garlic rolls, a plastic clamshell containing a beautifully dressed salad, and yet another smaller clamshell holding four cannoli.
I’d managed to get through the back door with the towering stack of food, but halfway up the first set of stairs, I started to lose my balance. I quickly reached out to grab the railing, and I felt my finger slide across a rough spot on the back of the railing and then the quick slice of a splinter working its way beneath my skin.
I gasped in surprise, pulling my hand back immediately, and yet somehow I managed to catch my now flailing body against the wall on the other side. In all the juggling, the cannoli box slid precariously close to the edge of the salad box, but all of the food managed to remain upright, intact, and in my arms.
I felt a wave of gratitude that no one had seen that astonishing display of grace, but then realized I’d have to fess up when I asked someone to help me remove the splinter in my finger . . . a splinter so massive I could see its dark shadow beneath the skin of my fingertip even in the relatively dim light of the back stairwell. I stuck my finger in my mouth, sucking gently, trying to ease the pain.
I climbed the rest of the steps to my apartment, and bumped my rear against the door in lieu of knocking.
Rena opened the door and ushered me into the warm glow of my apartment. Harvey and Ingrid were sitting at the table playing a game of gin rummy, Packer somehow draped across Harvey’s lap. Honestly, I didn’t know how those two would survive if separated. Jinx had stretched her long self across the back of the couch, balancing precariously on the top edges of the cushions. Her tail swished in a “come hither” motion, but her narrowed eyes clearly read “keep away.” I could see where Rena had been curled on the couch by Jinx’s head, a tangle of yarn and knitting needles from her newest hobby lying in a chaotic heap on the sofa seat.
Both of my animals, whom I fed and sheltered every day, and who had enjoyed the luxuries of frequent grooming and vet care at my expense, continued to relax . . . Packer only bothering to raise a single curious eyebrow before stretching and relaxing further on Harvey’s legs. Daisy May, however, the interloper whom I desperately wanted to find another home for, came galloping over, all legs and excitement.
“Food!” Rena announced, as Daisy tried to shove her nose between Rena’s arm and body.
“Chill, dog,” Rena said, pulling Daisy away from me and my precious pizza. She put one hand on the dog’s head and the other on her rump, pressing down until the dog sat. Daisy whimpered once, but then she did, indeed, chill out. Rena’s way with animals was a constant source of wonder.
“We’re starving,” she said, waving at Ingrid and Harvey. “You?”
“Yeah,” I said around my throbbing finger, “but first I need a little help digging out a splinter.”
“Oooh, me,” Rena said, raising her hand. I didn’t like the eager glint in her eye, but when my other two options were octogenarians with fading eyesight and trembling hands, Rena seemed like the best pick.
I set the food on the kitchen pass-through and encouraged Ingrid and Harvey to dig in, while Rena and I retired to the tiny bathroom to try to extricate my splinter. She washed her hands with antibacterial soap—mmmm, plumeria!—doused the finger with a little rubbing alcohol, and poured a little more on a pair of tweezers. With surprisingly deft fingers, she manipulated the splinter until it popped out from the skin. Then, with the tweezers, she gently tugged the whole splinter. What had felt like a tree branch in my finger actually looked more like the tip of a toothpick.
As Rena worked, I kept up a steady monologue about Sean’s and my visit to Kevin Lahti . . . more to distract myself than to actually convey information. But Rena managed to nod at all the right times.
When she was done pulling out the splinter, Rena opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a tube of antibacterial ointment and an adhesive bandage.
“It sounds like you and Sean had a productive day,” she said, slathering goo over my small wound.
“I suppose,” I said, holding my finger rigid as Rena wrapped it in a bandage. “I just feel exhausted. Spending time in the Lahti home was absolutely toxic. How can two people survive together with so much contempt and fear bet
ween them?”
Rena finished her nursing work by planting a brief kiss on my boo-boo. “There, you’re all set.”
She leaned back against the bathroom wall. “It’s all about the conditions we place on our love. You and I would never tolerate what Dee Dee tolerates, but she doesn’t place any conditions on her relationship with Kevin. And that makes her vulnerable. On the other hand you have other people, like Pris Olson, who place tight constraints on their emotions, and so her love died early and she’s just waiting for a lucrative time to bury it. That doesn’t work well, either.”
“Speaking of conditional love, how are things with your dad?”
“He won’t stop drinking. Which means he won’t stop dying. And he won’t stop being a total ass. Today he drank half a fifth of rotgut Canadian whiskey while I cleaned his house and did his laundry. He yelled obscenities, and I kept my mouth shut.”
She paused to rub her eyes, but I didn’t see any tears.
“I guess my love is unconditional, but my patience is not.”
“I’m so sorry, Rena.”
“Why? It’s life. We all have our special crosses to bear.”
“You’re bringing me down here, Rena.”
She laughed, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t mean to. I think there’s a perfect balance where we hold our loved ones accountable but don’t demand more than they’re able to give. That’s when love flourishes.”
“My, aren’t you the philosopher tonight?”
“Mmm. I’m meeting up with Jolly for a drink in a little bit.”
“Ahh. So that’s why you have love on the brain.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re still testing the waters.”
“But you dig her?”
“Oh, yeah.”
We made our way back to the living room, where I caught Harvey feeding pieces of sausage to Packer. Ingrid held up her hand. “I know. I know. It’s my fault. I know Packer’s not supposed to have people food, but he was killing us with those big eyes and plaintive whines.”
“You two are suckers, and that dog played you,” I said. I couldn’t help laughing at their expressions of shock and remorse. “I’m only kidding. He’s a manipulative mutt, and he always gets what he wants. Do you have any idea how much ice cream I’ve fed the little guy over the last few years?”
Ingrid and Harvey both visibly relaxed.
At the sound of Packer’s gleeful and greedy chewing, Daisy May slunk her way over to the couch. Her head was down, but she peered up at Harvey like a penitent seeking absolution. Or, in this case, sausage.
Harvey turned to me with the exact expression.
“Oh, go on. It’s only fair.”
Harvey picked a couple of choice morsels of meat off his slice and held them low for Daisy to gobble up.
Rena and I fixed ourselves plates and joined our elders at the dining table. We spent the next hour eating, making small talk, and engaging in a little friendly bickering.
Harvey and Ingrid got into a betting war over when Johnny Mathis’s first album was released, but when Rena suggested we go to the Internet to get the answer, both of them said no. It was the back-and-forth they enjoyed; they didn’t really care about the answer.
Then Rena turned on me. “So. What are you going to do about Sean?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, are you two cool again? You thinking about striking up a romance? What?”
I glanced over at Harvey, who barely knew me and didn’t know Sean from Adam. He bobbled his eyebrows at me in encouragement.
“There’s nothing to do, really. We’re working together, and neither of us has started a fight with the other, so that’s good. We’ve even shared some meaningful conversation, which suggests we’re friends . . . though you’d want to check with Sean about that. As for romance, I don’t know if that will ever be in the cards, but it sure isn’t now.”
Rena sighed. “Bummer.”
“Why is it a bummer? We have perfectly wonderful separate lives, and they get a little better when our paths happen to cross. That’s not so bad.”
Rena reached across the table to pinch my cheek. “I just want my Izzy-bear to be happy,” she baby-talked.
I shoved her arm away playfully. The question was awkward, but it was nice to know she cared.
While Ingrid and Rena were debating the quality of different flours, a subject I couldn’t have contributed to if my life depended on it, I thought about what a lovely evening we’d had. It was bittersweet. I couldn’t help but think that Dee Dee—with her abusive husband and distant brother—probably never enjoyed such relaxed and spirit-lifting evenings. And I also couldn’t help but think of Dolly, and how she was going to miss out on these evenings, too, if we didn’t find the real killer.
But Rena was right. Sean and I had made a lot of progress that day.
I felt a renewed sense of purpose. Dolly and I had taken a run at Hal, but we didn’t have all the information. Now we knew for certain that Daniel had been investigating the development site and we knew exactly what he’d been after. We also knew that Hal’s alibi was hogwash. I couldn’t wait to confront Hal again.
CHAPTER
Fifteen
Turns out I didn’t have to go looking for Hal Olson. He came looking for me the morning after Sean and I met with Kevin.
The jingle of the Trendy Tails door preceded him.
“Hello, Izzy.” His voice practically dripped with suspicion.
“Hal. I’m surprised to see you here.” Surprised didn’t actually cover it. Astounded, stunned, gobsmacked, aghast . . .
He pulled a face and patted his ample stomach like a child trying to self-soothe. “I admit, I’m a little surprised I’m here, too.”
I caught sight of Rena standing off in the corner. Her eyes were huge and she mouthed “Oh my God.” I subtly tried to settle her down with a wave of my hand.
“What brings you by?”
“Well, you’ve got that dog wedding thing coming up, and Pris is going to be busy with the, uh, bride and groom.”
“Pearl and Romeo?”
Hal sighed. “I gotta say—this just doesn’t seem right. Holding a wedding for two dogs . . . well, it seems to belittle the institution of marriage.”
That was rich, coming from a man who slept with every woman he could get his hands on, even those he had to pay. But I kept my lips sealed for the moment.
“Well, anyway, Pris wants me to bring Kiki. She said I should come by your store to get something fancy for Kiki.” He sighed. “But here’s the thing. Whatever I get, I have to put it on her, and that cat hates me. I don’t want to be torn to shreds, so this needs to be easy on, easy off.”
Okay, so I thought Hal might be a murderer, but I still felt a stab of sympathy for him. Kiki generally showed all the enthusiasm and character of a piece of dried toast. But she hated me every bit as much as she hated Hal. I’d been on the receiving end of that wrath more than once, and that little fur ball was vicious.
“I think I’ve got just the thing.” I stepped back behind the counter and pulled out a tray of chiffon ruffs. The ruffs were just circles of fabric with a hole cut out and elasticized so the whole thing would slip over the cat’s head and stay put. Some were playful, made out of cotton and meant to be everyday adornments. But the tray I brought out for Hal was my special inventory. These were made of chiffon and lightweight silk, hand dyed so they had a ombré pastel coloring. Some of them even had multiple layers.
I knew Pris well enough to know that she’d want a feminine color—like pink or peach—and that she’d want the fluffiest three-layer ruff I had to offer.
I held out three options for Hal to consider.
“Can’t you just pick for me? I don’t really know anything about this cat-costuming business.”
The lavender was my favorite and would go beautifully with Kiki’s brilliant blue eyes and snowy fur. I put the rest of the tray back in the case and pulled out a box and some tissue paper for the ruff Kiki would wear.
“It’s really simple. Just hold it wide and slip it over her head. Once the elastic contracts, she won’t be able to get it off. It won’t hurt her, though, so don’t worry about that.”
“I’m not terribly worried about the cat’s well-being,” he muttered under his breath.
“But speaking of hurt,” Hal began more loudly. He paused to clear his throat. “I gotta say, Izzy, I don’t take kindly to you coming by my place of business to accuse me of murder. You should at least get your facts straight before you do.”
My eyes narrowed and I tipped my chin back so I could meet Hal’s eyes. I didn’t appreciate being chastised by this man who himself had all the tact and morals of a cockroach. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Hal. You’re right. We didn’t have our facts straight when Dolly and I came to visit you, and I didn’t expect Dolly to be quite so blunt.”
“Hell, I don’t mind the bluntness. Don’t have a lot of patience for games.”
“Okay, then. No games. We didn’t have our facts straight then, but we sure do now. We know about the Dryden burrowing owls, we know you knew about the owls, and we know that you knew that Daniel knew about the owls. We also know, thanks to your good buddy Kevin Lahti, that your alibi is pretty flimsy. You were with him that night, but not until nine . . . giving you plenty of time to kill Daniel, get cleaned up, and then meet up with Kevin.
“Is that blunt enough for you?”
Beyond Hal’s shoulder, I watched Rena mouth “Oh my God” again. She crossed her hands over her heart dramatically and pretended to swoon.
Hal’s face had reddened again, turned the color of boiled beets, and I swear there was steam coming from his ears.
He handed me his credit card. It was surreal, but with that accusation of murder hanging in the air between us, I rang up his purchase, slid the box into a baby blue Trendy Tails bag, and handed it over to him.
