by Annie Knox
“I’ve had it up to here,” he said, holding his hand several inches above his head. “So far you’re just harassing me, which is bad enough, but if someone else hears your accusations, it’s going to be slander. I’m a reputable businessman and I’m running for office. Your wild accusations could cost me a lot. So just back off.”
He turned sharply on his heel and strode out of the store.
“Holy cow,” Rena said. “I can’t believe that just happened. Twice in two days. That must be some kind of murder accusation record.”
“I’m not setting out to break records. I’m just trying to save Dolly.”
“Well, that should certainly save Dolly, once you tell the police what you know.”
And that’s exactly what I did. I called Jack Collins’s number. He didn’t pick up, but I left a long and detailed voice message. If I could just get the police to take me seriously, Dolly might finally be cleared.
* * *
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Daisy with me,” I said as I stepped through the door of Louise Collins’s house.
Jack, who’d held it open for me, shook his head. “Not a problem.” His voice was tight and hard. He must have gotten my message from earlier in the day.
I hated to impose by showing up with an animal in tow, but I had finally managed to get Daisy in to see the vet late that morning. I should have done it before I let her mingle with Packer and Jinx, but better late than never. Thankfully, Daisy got a clean bill of health.
However, the wait at the vet had been long, as Dr. Sheridan had been called away to attend a cocker spaniel who was having problems birthing a litter of pups. As a result, I had to choose between being late for my appointment with Louise—our last consultation before the doggy wedding on Saturday—or bringing Daisy along.
As Jack ushered me into his mother’s living room, Daisy politely stayed at my side.
Louise had been a widow for some time, and her house had reverted to a state of unadulterated femininity. The plaster walls had been painted a deep rose, the room dripped with lace, and delicate porcelain figurines—mostly of children and animals—littered every available surface. Two TV trays had been moved to the side of the sofa, the remains of sandwiches and baby carrots on the plates they held. Jack must have come over to have lunch with his mother.
Jack pointed me toward a cream wingback chair, and he sat next to his mother on the damask striped Queen Anne sofa. There was something endearing about seeing such a big man perched on such a dainty piece of furniture. I couldn’t help but smile.
The television was on when I came in, and Louise simply turned down the sound instead of turning it off. Daisy was, of course, thrilled. She made her way to Jack’s side, managed to worm her head up into the palm of his hand, and watched TV in absolute silence.
“Would you like a hard candy?” Louise asked.
“Yes, ma’am. That would be lovely.” I chose a butterscotch candy wrapped in golden cellophane.
“So, we’re getting mighty close to the big day,” Louise said, her eyes sparkling behind the lenses of her cat-eye glasses. Her eyes were the same violet blue color as her son’s.
“We sure are. And I think we have all the details worked out. We’ve got white wedding decorations, tissue bells and such, and I’m almost finished making the bow tie favors. Rena’s tested the cake recipe and both she and Packer have given it their seal of approval.”
Louise cut me off to click her tongue against her teeth, summoning Pearl the bride.
“Here’s my girl,” Louise said as Pearl wobbled into the room. Pearl was an old girl, with some serious curves, and not entirely steady on her feet.
Louise leaned down to rub the dog’s velvety ears. “She’s looking so fine these days. You know, I adopted her from Dr. Sheridan’s office. Someone had found her living behind the Bread Basket. She’d grown quite rotund on cinnamon rolls and bear claws, and her small beagle frame was carrying a good forty pounds. Dr. Sheridan worried that I wouldn’t be able to provide Pearl with enough exercise to get her down to a healthy weight, but I just asked Jack if he could be her personal trainer and he said yes.”
She reached across to pat her son’s hand, and I saw a hint of red creeping up his neck.
“He started just walking her to the mailbox and back, and now they jog almost a mile every day.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said. I meant it sincerely, but Jack flushed harder.
“She’s going to make a beautiful bride,” Louise said.
“She sure will. Listen, we do have a little wrinkle that I hope you won’t mind. As you know, Ingrid and Harvey never officially tied the knot last Friday, so they’re hoping they can join Pearl and Romeo in a joint ceremony. I’ve asked Reverend Wilson, and he’s free Saturday afternoon. He even promised to do a blessing of the animals during the ceremony for Pearl and Romeo. You should feel free to say no, but would you mind having Ingrid and Harvey horn in on Pearl’s special day?”
Louise laughed, a sharp crack of joy. “That would be splendid. I’ve been rooting for Ingrid Whitfield to get her happily ever after ever since . . .” She paused, flustered. I knew she meant “ever since Ingrid’s husband, Arnold, had committed adultery with Jane Porter.” But there was no way she’d air that old, dirty laundry in front of one of Ingrid’s friends. “Well, never mind that. What matters is that Pearl and I would be honored to share the day with her.”
“I’m so relieved. Harvey and Ingrid are so anxious to get married, I was afraid that if I couldn’t get them hitched properly this weekend, they’d go down to the courthouse. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but I think Ingrid actually wants to be a bride again.”
“Heavens, yes. Don’t let that tough old bird fool you. She’s got a soft underbelly. She rarely shows it, but it’s there. I know she’s been looking forward to being the belle of the ball for quite a while now.”
All of a sudden, Daisy let out a yip. Then another. Then a full-fledged bark.
She’d been so quiet for the last couple of days that I’d practically forgotten that she could bark when she wanted to.
I followed her line of sight and she was still staring at the TV. There was a commercial for the Merryville Gazette, touting its local focus, and Ama Olmstead was doing a sound bite about her coverage of last year’s Fourth of July parade.
As soon as the ad returned to the announcer’s voice, Daisy stopped barking.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jack said, his smile creeping into his voice. “I think Daisy here has a crush.”
“That’s funny. She barked at Ama when we ran into her at the dog park the other day. I’d thought it was just a general ‘hey, look at me’ sort of bark, but I think you must be right. A doggy crush.
“Listen, I ought to get her home and get out of your hair.”
“You’re fine, dear,” Louise said. “It sounds like you have everything in hand, and I can’t wait for this Saturday.”
As I rose to leave, Jack followed me. He handed me Daisy’s leash as we stood in the foyer, but he blocked the door.
“I got a call today from Hal Olson,” he said.
“Oh.”
“‘Oh’ is right. The man says you accused him of murder. Twice. For this murder. Not to mention the accusation from six months ago. What do you have against that man?”
“I don’t have anything against him. He just always looks guilty to me. You know?”
Jack paused, then nodded. “Yes, actually I do know what you mean. There’s something shady about that guy. But still, you need to be a little more circumspect, especially with the man who will likely be our next mayor.”
“You’re right.”
“You’re right, I’m right. And I thought I told you to leave this investigation alone. Now you’ve graduated from snooping to accusing. That’s not the direction I wanted to see you take.”
/> Something in his tone rubbed me exactly the wrong way. “Have I done anything illegal?”
“No. Just foolish.”
My blood began to simmer. “Foolish, huh? Well, I think it’s foolish that you aren’t following up on the leads I’ve been handing you. Hal had motive and opportunity to kill Daniel Colona. Have you even considered the possibility that he might be guilty? And if I haven’t done anything illegal, I don’t see where you come off telling me to stop.”
“First of all, I am not at liberty to share the details of an ongoing investigation. Whether we’re taking your so-called leads seriously or not, I can’t tell you. Second, when I tell you to mind your own business, I’m not doing it as a cop. I’m doing it as your friend. Is it so hard to believe that I just want to keep you safe?”
Had he not called me foolish, I probably would have melted at his sweet sentiment. As it was, I felt completely patronized. “I don’t need you to keep me safe, Jack. I’m a grown woman and I can run my own life just fine.”
He stepped aside and opened the door to let me escape, but not before he offered something close to an apology. “Believe me, I know you’re a grown woman. But I can’t help worrying about you. You’re trusting and friendly and maybe just a little naive, qualities I find charming, but qualities that make you vulnerable. It’s my nature to protect.”
I slipped out the door, Daisy May right behind me.
“We’re just going to have to agree to disagree on this, Jack. I won’t rest—I can’t rest—until Aunt Dolly’s name has been cleared.”
CHAPTER
Sixteen
As a thank-you for all of our sleuthing, Aunt Dolly invited Rena and me to the Thistle and Ivy, Merryville’s answer to the classic Irish pub. The restaurant boasted half timbers on the plaster walls, coats of arms on banners hanging from the rafters, a huge map of Ireland, and—oddly—a kilt and sporran mounted in a shadow box frame. The food was good, solid comfort food, though Rena and I had only limited meat-free choices. The chef and owner, Danielle Phipps, played canasta with my mother and Ingrid, though, and she took care of us: every time we came in, she’d make a special vegetarian shepherd’s pie with mushroom gravy, root vegetables, and cashews all cloaked in a mound of fluffy white mashed potatoes. Rena had tried to re-create the mushroom gravy on many occasions, but she couldn’t quite replicate the balance of salty, earthy, and just a touch of sweet.
The hostess led us to a tall table with equally tall chairs. I had no problem with the chairs, as the McHale sisters are all strapping women, but both Dolly and Rena had to jump into the seat. Dolly actually had a few false starts, and by the time she got situated, her skimpy leather skirt was riding so high I was afraid some poor waiter would see something he could never unsee.
After we’d placed our orders, Rena and Dolly returned to a friendly argument over whether Miley Cyrus was a misunderstood artist who was ahead of her time or a musical hack who would do anything for a little publicity. I’m not saying a word about who was on which side. Their familiar prattle gave me an opportunity to dash to the ladies’ room before the food arrived.
As I made my way toward the back of the restaurant, I spotted Steve and Ama Olmstead. They’d managed to snag a coveted booth. Steve wore a tie and a button-up shirt, and Ama looked killer in a clingy red dress with ruching at the side, which really defined her curves. A pair of golden hoops dangled from her ears, and her lipstick matched her dress to a T.
“Hi guys. No Jordan tonight?” I asked.
Steve gave me a big grin. “Nope. Tonight’s date night.”
“Oh jeez,” I said, backing away from their table. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“No, not at all,” Steve said. Ama shot him an annoyed glance. Whether it was me in particular or company in general, it was clear she wanted to be left alone with her husband.
“My sister mentioned she’d had a chat with you out at the lakeside development,” Steve said. His tone was casual, but my hackles went up immediately.
“Yep.”
“I was a little surprised you were out there. It’s quite a hike from town and I didn’t take you for the outdoorsy type. And Dee Dee doesn’t get many visitors. I can’t imagine what you all wanted from her.”
I detected an edge to Steve’s voice. He must have been used to protecting his quirky sister from being manipulated and teased by other people. I had to say something, but for the life of me I couldn’t come up with any explanation other than the truth.
“We went out there because of Daniel Colona. It’s just coincidence that we ran into Dee Dee.”
“I don’t get it,” Steve said.
“Well, Richard Greene said he’d seen Daniel up there several times, and your sister confirmed that he was hanging around a lot. We just wondered why.” I don’t know what devil got into me, but I decided to push him a bit. “We thought maybe there was something going on out there. You know, something a reporter might be interested in.”
Steve visibly relaxed. In fact he laughed. “There’s nothing going on out there at the moment. Certainly nothing that would interest a reporter.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Pris mentioned that there was a little cash flow issue with the development.”
It was crass to bring up money like that, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah, my workers talk with some of the guys from Brainerd. All of them have beers at the Silent Woman, you know. My guys tell me that Hal hit a bump in the road. I guess I should just count my lucky stars that he didn’t grant me the contract. If he had, I’d have been up there with my crew, all of us just sitting on our hands and wondering if we’d get paid.”
Ama cleared her throat, a clear girl-to-girl signal that I should leave.
I took a step away, but then stopped and pivoted back to the table. “I almost forgot. Ama, you’ve got a big fan.”
“Really.” She smiled. “Who?”
“Daisy May.”
She looked puzzled. Because, of course, not everyone remembered the names of other people’s pets.
“Daniel’s Weimaraner. She’s usually really quiet, but when she hears that TV ad for the Gazette, she starts barking the moment you start talking. I think she has a crush on you.”
For an instant, Ama looked truly horrified.
“Oh, I mean not like a boy-girl crush. Just a doggy crush. She’d never, like, try to . . .” I managed to put the brakes on my mouth. Stop talking, Izzy. Just stop talking and walk away.
“Anyway, you two have a good night.”
I slunk to the ladies’ and managed to avoid eye contact with the Olmsteads as I headed back to our table, where I was surprised to see Jack Collins.
“Look who we found,” Dolly crowed. She leaned over a little to rest her bony hand on his. I don’t know whether it was intentional, but she flashed a little cleavage. Who was I kidding? Of course it was intentional. Leave it to Aunt Dolly to flirt with the cop who’d arrested her just a few days before.
I slid back into my seat as Jack explained. “I swung by to have a beer with Cliff Johnson. It’s his birthday.”
I glanced toward the bar and saw half a dozen men I recognized as local police officers leaning against the rail and buying rounds for the short, balding man in the middle.
“I saw him and waved him over,” Rena said. She looked at me with a little cock of her head, a challenge in her gaze.
I looked back at Jack and he smiled at me, a slow devilish smile, like we shared a secret.
“Well. Um, yeah. Good to see you.”
“Well. Um, yeah. Good to see you, too,” he teased.
Rena piped up. “Was that the Olmsteads you were talking to?”
“Yes.”
“You were chatting with them a long time. Learn anything interesting?”
“Nothing at all. Just made a little small talk about the Badger Lake development.
If Steve has any inside scoop from his sister, he’s not sharing.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jack’s smile melting into a frown of deep displeasure.
“It’s gotta be those owls,” Rena said. “I mean we basically ruled out the mob—unless, of course, Hal was lying to you two—but the owls would make a huge story, and Hal’s alibi is as flimsy as that house wrap he’s using.”
“I don’t think we should rule out the mob,” Dolly said. “We only have Hal’s word that the new investor is Japanese, and Hal lies. Besides, there’s a Japanese mob, you know. The yakuza. I heard about them on Byline Crime. They’re apparently every bit as dangerous as the regular mob.”
“Enough!” Jack’s hand sliced through the air as though he were dropping a NASCAR flag.
“What have you been up to? The mob? What the heck does the mob have to do with anything?”
“It’s really just a theory,” I said. “Pris Olson said that Hal had found some investors to save the development out by the lake and that they wanted to be silent partners. ‘Very silent,’ she said. Rena thinks that means the mob, and she makes a pretty compelling case.”
Rena held up a hand, and we high-fived.
“Hal Olson the RV King and the mob? That’s the most cockamamy story I’ve ever heard.”
“Why?” I asked. I’d played the devil’s advocate to Rena’s theory, but it was starting to make more sense to me. “You know the mob works with some of those outstate loners.”
“Yes, buying meth. Not investing in condos.”
“But Rena’s right. Investing in the condo development could be a way for them to launder money.”
“Do you have any idea how laundering money actually works?” Jack asked.
“Not exactly,” I said. “That’s why we’re giving all our information to you—the mob, the owls, the hole in Hal’s alibi. We’re not trying to do your job. We’re just helping.”
Jack crossed his arms on the table and rested his head on them, like a kid catching a nap.
