“You know cats eat people, right?” Amy asked.
“Ames,” Heather said.
“What? I’m just saying. I’ve read about it in the paper before. I guess you could call it good housekeeping.”
Penelope stiffened and placed the bag of kibble on the counter. “You were asking about the pet store, Mrs. Shepherd?”
“Yeah, I heard that you were interested in the coral snake at the back of the store,” Heather replied.
“I love all creatures, great and small.” Penny smiled and hurried back to the coffee pot.
Amy shifted in her seat, then pointed at a plaque on the wall. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but is that a Safari 550 DGR hunting rifle?”
Heather spun around and stared at the gun. Indeed, it was mounted right behind them, the dark wood polished to perfection.
“Ah, you have an eye for weaponry,” Penelope said and clicked her fingers. “Wonderful. It was my husband’s. He hunted big game in Africa before he died. I’ve kept it there as a reminder.”
Heather swallowed and looked back at the woman. The image of a hunting husband didn’t suit activist Penny. “A reminder of what?”
“How guns can be used for good and evil. For protection and the innocent murder of animals,” she said.
Amy reeled in her seat. Apparently, she had a difficult time with this too.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Walsh,” Heather said, “I didn’t picture you as the type of person who’d allow that kind of thing. The hunting, I mean.”
“Oh dear, I didn’t allow Mr. Walsh anything. He did what he wanted. He was a very independent man.” She sighed and touched her white hair. “He went his own way. And eventually he passed, and his hunting habits weren’t a problem in our marriage anymore.”
Amy folded her arms and eyed the rifle askance.
Heather whipped out her notepad and jotted down a few notes, but the ink blobbed on the page.
“Coffee?” Penelope asked, and turned back with a broad smile.
Chapter 13
Heather walked between the shelves in the gun store and examined the boxes of shells, the straps, and implements. Gun oils. Items she’d never envisioned existed. Each visit to this store brought another realization.
This time, it was how lost she was when it came to weapons, in general. She had her Taser, though and that’d have to be enough.
Amy hummed a tune and pranced down the aisle toward the counter at the back.
Neon lights buzzed overhead, and a heavy gate clanged somewhere in the place. A strange smell drifted on the air. She couldn’t place it, but it reminded her of her grandfather for some reason.
“Bally Bob!” Amy yelled in a tone of sheer glee.
The old timer popped up from behind the counter. “Amy, you little shooter. Where you been? Ain’t seen you in weeks, girl.”
“Oh, I’ve been around. A little busy, you know how it is.”
“You come to shoot? I got the range all warmed up for you. Took out one of my favorites this mornin’ for some fun,” Bally said and blinked three times in rapid succession.
Amy had a gift for befriending weird and wonderful, men and women from all walks of life. She blamed it on her star sign: Aquarius.
Then again, Heather had to be one of those weird and, hopefully, wonderful people.
“Nah, we’ve come on official business, today, Bally, ol’ pal,” Ames said, then turned and crooked a finger in Heather’s direction. “Are you coming?”
Heather hurried forward and halted in front of the counter. The paraphernalia behind and beneath it overwhelmed the senses. Pepper spray, cartridges, shells, boxes of bullets, Tasers in all shapes and sizes. A pink one, too.
“How can I help you, ma’am?” Bally asked and tipped an invisible cap in Heather’s direction.
“I’ve come to chat to you about a murder case, Bob,” Heather said. She brought out her notepad and pen, her trustee investigating implements, and placed them flat on the counter. “I’m sure you heard about the death of Jimmy Bob Jones.”
“I did, I did,” Bally said, and nodded. He sniffed once, then ran the back of his across his nose. “Deplorable man. Didn’t like that son of a gun one bit.”
“Why’s that?” Amy asked and leaned her forearms on the counter.
“Well, he bought loadsa guns. Rifles, pistol, even a shotgun or too. Man, I couldn’t figure out what he’d need ‘em all for,” Bally said, and scratched at a mark on top of the counter. “Then one of my other customer’s tell me that this guy’s a poacher.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, next time he came into my store, I told him to get out before I kicked him out,” Bally replied, then sniffed again. “I don’t care for that kinda man. I can understand huntin’ for food or needin’ protection, but poaching?”
“You have a problem with that?”
“Oh yeah, big time,” Bon replied. “Look, I love guns. I love firing ‘em. I even love the recoil and the bruises.” He chuckled, but it petered off and his expression. “But not when it’s used for nefarious purposes n’ stuff like that.”
“Killing animals for their skins is pretty darn nefarious,” Amy said and pursed her lips.
“That it is. That it is.” Bally nodded in Amy’s direction but kept his gaze glued to Heather’s face. “He was furious, of course. Threw a right tantrum out in the street, the big baby. But he wandered off after a while. Not like he could get back in here.” He laughed and gestured to the cage-like construction which barred entrance to the store.
“And you never saw him again?” Heather asked.
“Nope. Heard he got murdered, though. By a snake?”
“Yeah,” Amy replied.
“Weird way to go.”
Heather didn’t comment. She wrote down her notes and her mind twisted around the facts. She bent them and examined them, but there wasn’t much there, except more evidence that the poacher hadn’t been a nice guy.
He was a poacher, though. That was a given.
“Just one more question, Bob,” Heather said. She still couldn’t bring herself to call him ‘Bally.’
“Sure,” he said.
“Did a woman named Penelope Walsh every come in here?” It was the real reason they’d come.
The paradox of a hunting rifle in an activist’s home had set off alarm bells in Heather’s mind. She had to know more about Mrs. Walsh and whether she’d told the truth about that rifle.
“Sure does. Almost every second day,” Ballistic Bon replied. “She’s one of my best customers, except she’s more interested in the shooting range.”
“Oh?” Heather asked and exchanged a glance with her bestie.
Amy raised both eyebrows.
“Yeah, she prefers handguns ‘n stuff. Nothin’ too big. She’s a little lady, you know.”
“Did she ever tell you why she’s interested in learning to shoot?” Heather asked.
“Nope, and she’s not learning neither. The woman knows her guns. She shoots for the pleasure of it I’m sure,” Bob said. “Kinda weird to see the look on her face when she does it, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I dunno. Everyone has a look when they fire a weapon,” Bally replied. “Amy over here just go this deadpan expression. Nothin’ scary.”
“And you smile when you shoot,” Amy said. “But not a creepy smile. It’s like you’re happy to be on the range.”
“Darn straight,” Bob said.
“And Penelope?” Heather asked.
Ballistic Bob touched his finger to his bottom lip. “She got this expression that’s like, angry or somethin’. Her face scrunches up real tight.” He tried to emulate it, and Amy burst out laughing.
Bally chuckled and rolled his eyes at her. “She never bought a gun from me, though.”
Heather made a final note, then capped her pen. “Thank you for your time, Bob. I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”
“You come back soon, now. I got a Ruger with your nam
e on it, Amy, girl. Ergonomic Wrap-Around Grip Model. Nine millimeters. Real fancy.”
“Thanks, Bally. I’ll see you soon,” Ames replied, and clapped him on the shoulder.
Chapter 14
Heather strolled down the sidewalk toward the pet store. Puzzle pieces floated around in her mind. They jammed their edges together, turned and tried another composition, but never fell into place.
“Where are we going?” Amy asked.
“Oh, sorry, Ames, I was lost in thought,” Heather replied. “Sheesh, I feel like I’ve been running around headless for the past few days. I’ve hardly seen the inside of my own store.”
“It’s all right. Ange and the others have got everything under control. It’s just this week’s case has been confusing.” Amy readjusted her handbag on her shoulder, then glanced up at the gathering clouds. “Looks like it might rain.”
“I hope so. It’s been pretty dry this week,” Heather said. “I’ve got one last place to visit today, and then we can head back to the store and do what we do best.”
“Drink coffee and devour donuts?” Amy asked.
“That too.”
Heather strode around the corner and down the road. Thunder rumbled in the dark clouds overhead, and the first fat drops of rain splatted to the concrete. A couple landed on Heather’s head.
Amy tilted her face back and accepted the blessing for what it was.
“Here we are,” Heather said and stopped in front of the Sunny Hill Pet Store.
The lights were on, but Sofia wasn’t behind the counter.
Heather opened the door and stepped inside. An electronic bell chimed in the store, but silence greeted them.
Both women looked up at the small box above the door.
“Well, that’s new.”
“I’m coming,” Sofia yelled from the back.
Amy stepped toward the bird cages, and a frown wrinkled her brow. “It’s quiet in here.”
“Too quiet,” Heather grunted, in a theatrical homage to The Lucky Texan.
Amy clicked her tongue at her bestie but didn’t speak again. Instead, she wandered down one of the aisles, further into the pet stores. “Hey, there are goldfish here too.”
“Don’t tell Lilly,” Heather called back. “She’ll want to start her own menagerie.”
Sofia Lopez hurried to the front of the store and slipped in behind the counter. She brushed the hair from her forehead with the back of her forearm, then exhaled. “May I help you, Mrs. Shepherd?”
“Are you all right?” Heather asked.
Amy popped her head around the corner and scrutinized the owner of the store. “Yeah, you look kinda…”
“Sweaty?” Lopez suggested. “Sorry, I’m spinning because my assistant didn’t come in to work this morning.”
“Jamie didn’t come in for his shift?” Heather asked, and glanced back at Ames.
Her bestie slowly retracted her head from its position and disappeared back down the aisle.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get hold of him but he doesn’t answer his home phone or his cell,” Sofia replied and shook out her hair. “I don’t understand it. Jamie’s never tardy. He’s been a great employee, apart from not reporting the break-in.” She rearranged the box of fluffy toys on the counter, then bent and straightened a bag of dog food.
“I’m sorry to hear about your troubles, Sofia.” Heather resisted the urge to whip out her notepad again. She’d already filled another one.
“Yeah, and that’s not all I have on my plate. Several of my birds have vanished overnight. All the local kinds. I don’t understand it. But this time, nothing’s broken.”
“Have you reported this yet?” Heather asked.
“No, I was just about to when you came in.” Sofia braced her palms on the counter. “This would all be a lot easier if Jamie had decided to show up.”
“I was going to ask you a few questions regarding the case, but perhaps they can wait until a time when you’re not slammed,” Heather said.
Sofia smiled at her. “Thank you. I appreciate that. I really do have a lot to do. Clean the tanks, the snake cages. Today was supposed to be Jamie’s turn.” Sofia slipped out from behind the counter again and walked toward the aisle. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, that’s all. Thanks a lot, Sofia,” Heather replied. She tapped her fingers on the top of the counter, and Amy appeared at her side. She jumped and turned to her bestie. “Gosh, you’re getting good at popping out of places unexpected.”
“We need to check on him,” she said, in a low hiss. Like a balloon letting out air. “Now.”
“Pardon me?”
“Jamie,” Amy replied. “It doesn’t make sense. I mean, why wouldn’t he answer his phone? And where would he have gone to? I don’t like this Heather. What if the killer has struck again?”
Heather eyed the bird cages, then reached up and massaged a spot in the middle of her forehead. “I highly doubt that, but I see your point.”
Amy followed her gaze and gasped. “What if they used a bird this time?”
“Assuming the killer is some kind of fabled animal whisperer, of course.”
“I’m serious,” Amy said. “It all makes sense. Maybe Jamie knew too much and –”
Heather opened the front door of the pet store, and bell sounded again. She stepped out into the rain and Amy followed, hot on her heels.
“Ames, relax,” Heather said. “My sleuthin’ sense tells me there’s another explanation for this. I agree, we need to check on Jamie, but I don’t think there’s any danger.”
“You did bring your Taser, though, right? Just in case,” Amy asked, and glanced up at the thunderclouds.
“Of course,” Heather replied, and patted her handbag. It’d been a long time since she’d left the house without it. “Better to be safe than sorry.”
Trouble always found Heather Shepherd, if she didn’t find it first.
Chapter 15
“I don’t know where he lives, Ames,” Heather said. “I could call Ryan and ask him to check out Jamie’s place, but if he’s not answering his phone, he’s probably not there.”
“Or he’s hurt,” Amy replied, and grimaced. “I know I sound melodramatic.”
“Just a tad, but you’re right. We should check this out. I’ll give Ryan a call.”
They rounded the corner, and Heather whipped out her cell. She swiped her finger across the screen and clicked through to her contacts.
Amy grasped her forearm, and she nearly lost her grip on the phone.
“Amy,” she hissed.
“Uh, Heather?” Her bestie whispered. “There’s Jamie.”
And there he was.
Jamie Purdue sat on the park bench, his head bowed, and his hands clasped together in front his knees. Two bird cages sat on the chair beside him, and two colorful birds hopped around inside and chirped to their heart’s content.
“What’s he up to?” Heather mused.
Amy took off toward the park and Heather followed, curiosity rumbling through her mind. Why would Jamie have stolen the birds from the pet store? And why on earth had he come to the park?
“Mr. Purdue,” Heather said. The women strode up to him and came to a halt.
Jamie flinched and sat up straight. “Mrs. Shepherd, uh, Amy.”
“Hi,” Amy said, “what on earth are you doing?”
Jamie’s lips peeled back and he half-grimaced, half-smiled. “I suppose it seems a little crazy. I, uh, I’m trying to free these birds.”
“The birds from the pet store,” Heather said, in a monotone.
“That’s correct, yeah. I hate seeing them in the cages. Look, I can watch people walk out of the store with kittens and puppies and even fish, but the birds? It just feels wrong. They’re meant to be free. They’re meant to fly.” Jamie cleared his throat and glanced down. “I quit my job to work in this pet store.”
“So you could free the birds?” Heather asked.
Amy snorted, then blocked it with h
er fist. Even she thought it was a little cuckoo for cocoa puffs and she had her moments.
“No,” Jamie said and chuckled. “That’d be ridiculous. I just wanted to spend time around animals. I wanted to be a vet actually, but I didn’t make it in. So yeah, this was the closest I could get. The more time I spend with the animals, the more I realize how wrong this kind of thing is.” He gestured to the cages beside him. “Sofia’s obviously going to fire me when she finds out.”
Heather tapped her fingertips on her tote and grasped her cell in her other hand. “Maybe she won’t find out. Maybe she will.”
“I don’t want to cross her,” Jamie grumbled. The noise matched his manly exterior to a tee, but the downturned lips didn’t.
“Why’s that?”
“She’s got a major temper. Crazy bad.” He rolled his eyes. “Now, I sound like I’m trying to make her out to be bad again. Look, she’s a great lady. She’s a good boss. Just don’t get on her bad side.” Jamie rose from his seat and tucked his hands into his pockets.
“What makes you say that?” Heather asked.
Jamie glanced at the street then down at the birds. “I guess I have a minute to talk about it,” he said. “Remember I told you about the fight between Sofia and JB Jones?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it was a bit more heated than I made out. She got real angry with him. She hit him over the head with a bag of dog food,” Jamie said. He stifled a giggled.
Amy didn’t bother. She laughed out loud.
“Dog food,” Heather said.
“Yeah. She called him a dog too and a whole host of other things in Spanish,” Jamie replied. “Couldn’t understand most of them, but they weren’t good.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing,” Jamie replied, and shrugged his shoulders. “I think JB was in a state of shock after that. He just kinda wandered off, muttering under his breath.” Jamie made two fingers and walked them in mid-air.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Heather asked.
“I didn’t want it to seem like Sofia killed him. She didn’t. I’m pretty sure she has an alibi and everything,” Jamie replied.
Iced Pumpkin Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 26 Page 5
