In the Dog House

by V. M. Burns

  Chip gave a half-hearted laugh, returned the money to his wallet, and put the wallet back in his pocket.

  Officer Harrison gave him the death stare for several more uncomfortable seconds.

  “Sorry,” Chip said reluctantly and raked his hand through his hair.

  Office Harrison still hadn’t blinked, but he handed him the ticket.

  He accepted the ticket. “Thanks.”

  Officer Harrison turned and walked back to his patrol car.

  We got back in our car and buckled up.

  “I like that Officer Harrison. I wonder how they train them not to blink,” Dixie said.

  I wondered the same thing as I looked both ways at least six times before inching out of the parking space. In my rearview mirror, Chip Nelson was having an animated conversation on his cell phone. Chalk one up for senile old ladies.

  The Lighthouse Dunes’ one and only police station was a small, single-story brick building situated on prime lakefront real estate. The building had been around since the early twentieth century and had the charm and nautical aesthetic that contributed to the quaint feeling of the city. The building had a lot of character, but was low on twenty-first-century functionality. The facility was small, overcrowded, and wasn’t ADA compliant. The city was building a new thirteen-million-dollar high-tech facility on the outskirts of town, but it was behind schedule, so the police had yet to move.

  The lobby area was small. We gave our names to the desk sergeant and sat down in metal folding chairs until Officer Harrison came to get us. Our wait wasn’t long, but Blue Eyes was out of breath when he came into the lobby.

  “Sorry for your wait,” he explained as he led us down a narrow hallway. “I needed to take care of Turbo.”

  Officer Harrison already rated pretty highly on my maternal scale of Men I’d Like to Date My Daughter list based solely on the way he’d handled Bambi and how he’d brought Chip Nelson down from his throne. “No problem.” Anyone who recognized the importance of caring for his canine companion instantly gained twenty bonus points.

  I slowed down so I was several paces behind Officer Harrison. Dixie must have gotten the same idea, because she, too, was walking slower than her normally fast pace. I glanced at Dixie, and she smiled and gave a slight nod. She obviously approved.

  Stephanie was now walking side by side with Blue Eyes, and they made a nice couple.

  Officer Harrison hurried ahead to open a door, and Stephanie smiled as she sidled past him. Dixie and I hurried through the doorway and then lingered back, while he moved to the front and led us past a series of cubicles. He stopped at one of the cubicles and quickly dragged nearby chairs so we each had a place to sit. Once we were settled, he sat down and started typing.

  “I just need to get your statements and then you’ll be free to go.” He typed on a computer that looked older than my children.

  “That thing is just one step above a typewriter,” Dixie said.

  He grinned. “Some days I think a typewriter would be faster.” He typed. “We’re getting new systems in the new building.”

  “Why don’t I go first, since my statement will be really short,” Dixie volunteered.

  Officer Harrison nodded.

  “I arrived on Friday. I barely knew Albert. I didn’t like him, but I didn’t kill him, nor do I know who did,” she said.

  Officer Harrison asked clarifying questions and typed quickly, albeit with only two fingers. He asked about her whereabouts during the time frame when the burglary must have taken place. When he was done, he printed out the document and asked Dixie to sign and date it. He went through the process with me next. My statement was longer, since I obviously knew Albert the best. However, when he was done, he followed the same procedure.

  He was just about to start the process with Stephanie when Dixie nudged me in the ribs.

  “Don’t you have an appointment?” She winked at me and then tilted her head toward the door. “You know, that appointment.”

  I grabbed my purse and stood. “Oh dear, look at the time. I do have an appointment and I need to go.” I stared innocently at Officer Harrison. “I hate to be a bother, but could you see that Stephanie gets home safely?”

  Stephanie bowed her head in shame. “Oh Mother.”

  I detected the slightest glimmer of a smile in Officer Harrison’s eyes. “Of course. I’ll be happy to make sure she gets home safely. And the name is Joe.”

  “Joe, thank you so much.” I smiled broadly and ignored the daggers Stephanie was now sending with her eyes.

  “Mom, I’m sure Officer Harrison—”

  “Joe. He asked us to call him Joe,” I said with a smile.

  Stephanie grimaced. “I’m sure JOE has more important things to do than to drive me around town. I can call a taxi.”

  “No,” Joe said eagerly. “I’ll be more than happy to make sure you get home safely.”

  Stephanie knew when she was outnumbered. She sighed and accepted her fate. “Thank you.”

  Dixie and I hurried out of the precinct. I took off driving, with no real destination in mind. After going a few blocks, I stopped at a stoplight and looked at her. “Where to?”

  “I’m starving. Let’s grab some grub.”

  My stomach growled at the mention of food, and I headed to a local restaurant near the beach, which was popular with the locals for its onion rings and milk shakes.

  Our timing was good, and we were able to get a seat quickly. Burgers, onion rings, and shakes were ordered and consumed quickly. With full stomachs, we then headed for St. Adalbert’s and our meeting with Father Dominick.

  St. Adalbert’s was one of the oldest churches in Lighthouse Dunes. The redbrick building had been built in the early twentieth century. Designed in the Romanesque architectural style, the building was complete with beautiful stained-glass windows and Italianate chandeliers. Arcades ran along both sides of the nave, with a large arch framing the main altar. Images of Saint Casimir, Christ the King, and Saint Stanislaus Kostka were painted on the apse above the main altar.

  Father Dominick met us at the back of the church. He was a round, jolly older priest. He had fat, rosy cheeks, a round belly, and soft eyes. He had a bald, egg-shaped head and a quick wit. He came late to his calling as a priest and had spent his early days driving a truck.

  I introduced Dixie, who was Southern Baptist and awed by the statues, relics, and traditions of the church. She had confided at lunch she was also afraid of offending our priest. However, I reassured her there was probably very little he hadn’t seen or done in the days prior to his joining the priesthood, or heard in the confessional.

  We followed Father Dominick around the side of the building to the rectory. He had an office that was full of books. He sat in a chair behind an old desk covered in books and papers, and I sat in the guest chair in front of the desk. Dixie was drawn to the books that lined the walls from floor to ceiling and lay strewn on every available surface.

  “Please feel free.” Father Dominick smiled and waved his hand in a magnanimous gesture.

  Dixie nearly ran over to the bookshelves.

  “Please accept my condolences on the loss of your husband,” Father Dominick said softly.

  We’d talked many times in the months since Albert moved out, so he was well aware of our situation, but I thanked him.

  “Now, what can I do to help you?”

  I thought about that question for a second and then explained what I knew of Albert’s wishes. We hadn’t spoken much about this over the years. Albert always said we had plenty of time. However, having lost both of my parents at a fairly young age, I preferred to be prepared. Toward that end, I’d purchased funeral plots and gravestones. Everything was already selected and paid for. Father Dominick and I went through the program for a traditional mass, and I selected hymns and scriptures I thought Albert might have liked.
Stephanie sent a text message while we were at the rectory that the coroner had released the body and Lighthouse Dunes Funeral Home would be picking it up later today.

  Dixie and I left the church, swung by a local florist’s shop, and purchased floral sprays for the coffin, as well as grave markers and candles.

  I was worn out by the time I got home. I wasn’t surprised to see the K-9 Patrol car in the driveway, parked next to Dixie’s RV, but there was another car behind it, which I didn’t recognize.

  I went into the house and smiled at Joe and Stephanie sitting in the living room. As a well-trained gentleman, Joe rose when we entered. However, he looked serious and official. Stephanie hopped up from her seat too.

  “Mom, this is Detective Wilson.”

  I extended my hand toward the detective. Detective Wilson was an African American woman of medium height, with silky-smooth skin the color of an espresso coffee. She had light gray eyes and a bright smile.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please call me Olivia,” she said with a clipped British accent. “I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I was only assigned to this case a couple of hours ago.” She smiled.

  I looked from Joe to Detective Wilson. I must have looked as puzzled as I felt, because she quickly added, “I’m a homicide detective. Officer Harrison is a member of the K-9 squad and has been graciously helping us out with our caseload.”

  I smiled. “Please have a seat.”

  Everyone sat down, and I waited patiently for Detective Wilson to explain why she was here.

  “Now, I have read your statements and I have a few other questions I’d like to ask you.”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  She flashed a friendly smile and then pulled out a notepad. “I’m sure you know the circumstances of your husband’s death.”

  “I know what my in-laws told my daughter.”

  “You and your husband were estranged?”

  “If by ‘estranged’ you mean separated and preparing to get divorced, then yes. We were estranged.”

  She smiled. “Was it an amicable separation?”

  “Depends on what you mean by amicable.”

  “Mrs. Echosby, maybe it would be easier if you just tell me about your separation in your own words.”

  I looked at Stephanie, who gave me a slight nod. “My husband left me for another woman, a younger woman.”

  “A much younger woman,” Dixie mumbled.

  “Her name, or what she calls herself, because I can’t believe any mother would name their daughter that, is Bambi Love. She’s about twenty years old—”

  “And dumb as a box of rocks,” Dixie added.

  “He moved out about six months ago.”

  “That had to be very difficult for you,” Detective Wilson sympathized. “How long had you been married?”

  “Twenty-five years. It was difficult at first.” I sighed. “I don’t suppose any woman wants to feel like she’s been replaced with a younger model, just because she’s gotten old.”

  “Were you still in love with your husband?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” I pondered the question for a long time. Finally, I shrugged. “I suppose I’d gotten accustomed to my husband and my marriage. It was a comfortable habit, but if I’m completely honest, I don’t think I did love him…not anymore.” I took a deep breath. “I didn’t know it at the time, but I’ve had a lot of time to think lately.”

  “I understand,” she added. “So, before you had time to think about your true feelings, you didn’t want the divorce?”

  “No. I didn’t. I’d become a creature of habit, and I didn’t want to change. At first, I thought he’d come back, but then when it was clear he wasn’t coming back, I had to accept it.”

  “When did you come to the realization that he wasn’t coming back?”

  “Just a few days ago, when we were in Chicago.”

  “You went to Chicago with your husband?”

  “We didn’t go together. We met there, in my daughter’s office.” I pointed to Stephanie. “She’s an attorney.”

  “I see.”

  Stephanie had begun to pace while we were talking. She stopped. “I think I see now too. Detective Wilson, you think my mother had something to do with my father’s death.”

  I stared at Stephanie. Surely she was wrong, but Detective Wilson didn’t deny it, and Joe looked as though he wanted to sink through the floor.

  “That’s ridiculous. You can’t possibly believe I had anything to do with Albert’s death. Regardless of what was happening to our marriage, he was still my husband.”

  “Lilly is the least violent person I know.” Dixie jumped to my defense.

  “My mother wouldn’t hurt anyone, especially not my dad.”

  “So, you didn’t leap across a conference table and attempt to strangle your husband’s girlfriend? Or hurl objects at your husband’s head and have a screaming match the day before he was killed?” she asked innocently.

  I stared openmouthed. “Touché.”

  “That’s enough. You can leave. My mother won’t be answering any more questions without a lawyer.”

  Detective Wilson sighed. “Look, I’m just doing my job. I need to ask these questions and investigate everyone who could possibly have had a reason to harm your husband. Hopefully, I’ll be able to eliminate you as a suspect and move on, but that won’t happen unless you’re honest and cooperative.”

  I had to hand it to Detective Wilson. She was good at gaining confidence. I’d read a lot of mysteries in my day, and I knew the spouse was always the number-one suspect. I also knew that talking to the police without a criminal attorney was a bad idea. Detectives had a way of twisting your words. Nevertheless, there was something about this detective’s nature that made me want to trust her. I wasn’t sure if it was her sympathetic eyes, British accent, or calm demeanor, but I liked her and she came across as sincere. “I don’t have anything to hide. I didn’t kill my…Albert. I’ll answer your questions.”

  Stephanie looked as though she thought I’d lost my mind. “Mom, I really don’t think this is a good idea…?”

  “You’re probably right, dear, but what could possibly go wrong?”

  CHAPTER 5

  What could possibly go wrong? Well, I learned the answer to that question very quickly. What could go wrong was that after three hours of rehashing not only the circumstances of my marriage, my love life, my divorce, the fact that I stood to inherit his car dealership, and the million dollars they’d discovered he had in an offshore bank account, I had no confirmable alibi for the time of the murder.

  Detective Wilson returned with a search warrant, which allowed detectives to search every nook and cranny of my house. Apparently the police found boxes and packed suitcases suspicious, especially after a murder. If having police detectives go through my underwear wasn’t bad enough, they removed samples of the carpet, because the red wine– and marinara-stained carpet was suspicious too.

  Tuesday afternoon, I realized antagonizing my husband’s girlfriend had been a bad idea, since she apparently took pleasure in not only bad-mouthing me to the police, but enjoyed bad-mouthing me to reporters as well.

  I watched openmouthed as she primped, smacked her gum, and cried, all in less than two minutes, then displayed the marks on her throat where I tried to strangle her.

  “I can’t believe you’re watching that.” Stephanie paced in front of the television.

  Dixie picked up the remote. “It’s like a train wreck. You know you shouldn’t look, but you can’t help yourself.”

  “Don’t you dare turn that off. I need to know what I’m fighting against.” I steeled myself and watched as Bambi batted false eyelashes at the reporter. When the segment ended, I turned to Dixie. “Okay, now you can turn it off.”

  “Well, that was pathetic.” Dixie petted one o
f the poodles lounging by her chair.

  “What time is the lawyer coming?” Did I have time to vacuum? One look at the holes in the carpet made the entire idea ridiculous.

  “Should be any minute.” Stephanie paced.

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang. The poodles might not have looked fierce, but they barked like killer attack dogs. We’d taken to keeping all of them in the house since reporters and curiosity seekers started showing up on the doorstep.

  Stephanie was already up, so she looked out of the peephole and then opened the door.

  Dixie held tight to the big poodles, while I scooped up Aggie, who reminded me of Scrappy Doo as she yapped and lunged at the door, confident as long as there was 150 pounds of poodles backing her up. She looked utterly ridiculous with her pink halter dress that I couldn’t resist buying and a little pink diaper. After the amorous attentions of Turbo, we checked and detected slight drops of blood on the carpet, or rather the police found the blood drops. Dixie went to the pet store and procured a small doggy diaper to protect the furniture, since nothing her standard poodles had would fit little Aggie. She did, however, have spray to reduce the scent since her females were also still intact. Aggie wasn’t thrilled about wearing the pink diaper, but she hadn’t yet figured out a way to remove it.

  Christopher Williams entered. “Steph, it’s good to see you again.” He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. Their embrace lasted longer than casual friends tended to hug, but then, he and Stephanie had dated for a while in law school.

  When the embrace ended, he smiled at me and extended his hand. “How are you holding up, Mrs. Echosby?”

  I shook his hand and responded appropriately.

  Stephanie introduced him to Dixie, and he won big points with her by extending a hand so the poodles could sniff. When they had determined he wasn’t a serial killer or carrying concealed hot dogs anywhere on his person, they signaled he was okay with profuse tail wagging.

  Christopher got down on one knee and scratched both dogs behind their ears, finding the spot that made their eyes roll up into their heads and their back legs jiggle. He was definitely a charmer.