Pick and Chews

by Linda O. Johnston

  He sounded interested, at least, and his excuse seemed rational. Heck, it wasn’t really my business if he did have another woman there with him. We hadn’t discussed being exclusive with one another, even though it felt to me like we were.

  “I’m home,” I said. “Just about to turn out the lights and get some sleep. But … well, Billi and I had an interesting evening. I don’t want to get into it now, except to make you wonder, though I have no news for you.” I didn’t want to disclose my plan to visit the cops tomorrow either, but I hoped I would learn something from them that could wind up being useful … or not. “If you don’t have other plans for tomorrow evening,” I went on, “maybe we could at least go grab a drink together. Okay?”

  I felt my teeth grit as I half expected a negative answer—but my grimace turned into a smile as Reed said, “Absolutely. I’ve been hoping to hear the latest update on your progress in solving the murder, since you’re so good at such things. I assume you’re still doing it, right?”

  “You know me,” I sang, as if I was in a really great mood.

  “And you’re being careful, not putting yourself in danger?”

  “I’m trying,” I said, recalling my concerns about joining Oliver inside the building that was the murder site.

  “Keep trying. Be careful or forget the whole thing, damn it. I care about you, Carrie. I should never have even asked—”

  “You didn’t need to ask it,” I said, feeling all warm inside again thanks to his attitude. “You know me well enough to recognize that I’d have jumped in anyway.”

  “Yeah,” he said, in a tone that somehow sounded sexy over the phone. “I do. Anyhow, see you tomorrow.”

  “Yep, see you tomorrow.” And after hanging up, I found myself relaxed enough to give Biscuit a final pat good night and soon fall asleep.

  Another early morning wakeup, dog walk, and quick drive to the shops. More baking and welcoming my assistants, followed by greeting a nice abundance of customers.

  And all the while I was thinking how to handle the outing I intended to engage in briefly that afternoon.

  First, I needed to ensure that at least one of the people I wanted to speak with would be available. Consequently, during a lull in the Barkery around ten that morning, I called Detective Bridget Morana. I could have called her colleague Wayne Crunoll, but although both of them gave me a hard time about the cases I found myself involved in, I had the sense that Bridget was the more professional of the two. Even though they were animal people, it didn’t raise them up much in my estimation, since they seemed to have fun figuring out how to make each situation more difficult for me to look into.

  To my surprise, Bridget not only answered her phone but said she would be able to spare a few minutes to talk to me around three that afternoon. Would that work for me?

  “Oh, yes,” I told her.

  And so at two forty-five, I left Biscuit in the care of my assistants on duty—all four of them, since it was Saturday—and drove to the Knobcone Heights Civic Center. I fortunately found parking at a meter along the street; it was more expensive to pay for a space in the official lot. And then I hurried inside the police station, carrying a small bag of Barkery treats. I didn’t anticipate seeing Wayne, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to leave him some munchies for his two dogs.

  The large reception area was busy, which wasn’t surprising. I went up to the tall front desk, where a young uniformed cop acted as receptionist. He nodded when I gave my name and said yes, I had an appointment with Detective Morana. Had she told him to expect me? Or was he just being pleasant? “I’ll let her know you’re here.” He picked up the desk phone.

  I turned to look for an empty seat in the crowded room and found one nearby, but before I could sit down, Bridget appeared at the side of the reception desk where, behind it, a door led into the station. She strolled up to me. “Hi, Carrie. Let’s go inside.”

  Bridget was dressed professionally, as she always seemed to be while on duty, in a charcoal suit. She leveled her brown eyes at me in a bland expression, so I didn’t hazard a guess about what she was thinking. Usually I got some sense of her mood, at least, by whether or not she raised her bushy eyebrows, which were about the same nondescript shade of brown as her short hair. Nothing like this today, at least not yet.

  “Great,” I said, just to be friendly, and followed her.

  As she led me down the hall I saw more cops, in uniform. We soon reached the conference room where I’d been taken for other meetings here at the station. Bridget opened the door.

  And I was confronted with my first surprise of the day. Wayne was in the room, apparently waiting for us. Maybe he wasn’t even on duty, since he wore a bright blue shirt tucked into dark slacks. Or maybe he was heading somewhere undercover after this. How would I know?

  “Hi, Carrie,” he said with one of his traditional ironic grins. “Welcome. Do you have something to tell us?”

  As I entered and took a seat at the table in the center of the room, I countered, “I came here to learn what you could tell me.”

  “Now that could be a problem,” Bridget said. “We’ve gone through this before, but let me remind you—”

  “You’re the police,” I broke in. “You have the authority to question civilians about things relating to open cases, as well as other things. But I’m just one of those civilians, even if I stick my nose into your cases. Am I right?”

  “You got it.” Bridget’s return smile appeared anything but friendly.

  “Well,” I said, “I think we now have a kind of pattern established. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  “You go first.” Wayne leaned forward with his elbows on the table. Today he had a slight five o’clock shadow on his pudgy face. His dark hair was in its regular short cut. He looked like—well, a determined cop, since he didn’t move his gaze from mine as I stared into his light brown eyes.

  “No,” I said, “you go first.” I pursed my lips as if to show him a small degree of belligerence. Nothing threatening, of course. Not with cops. And not for no reason.

  He laughed a bit, and even Bridget smiled grimly. “I assumed we’d have a standoff,” Wayne began, “and so … ”

  Then he drew his gaze away and looked behind me. I heard a noise and turned, too.

  Police Chief Loretta Jonas was in the room. She closed the door behind her and walked toward me as I stood up.

  “Hi,” I said with a grin. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  “I think you know.”

  As usual, Loretta was wearing her uniform, although today, at the station, she didn’t wear her dark jacket with its many medals. Instead, she had on a beige button-down shirt. She was in her fifties, with a dark complexion and eyes. The first time I’d met her, I’d guessed that she dyed her medium brown hair, since it was all one shade with no highlights.

  Loretta smiled and moved toward me, with her hand outstretched so we could shake.

  I tended to like the chief—partly because she had an adorable schnauzer mix, Jellybean, whom she’d adopted from Mountaintop Rescue. Also, I considered her a skilled and dedicated police officer, or at least she mostly seemed that way to me.

  Still, at this moment we appeared to be playing some kind of a game. I gestured toward the conference table and sat back down in the seat I’d taken before. All three cops joined me.

  Then I began the conversation. “Okay, I figure you’re all interested in what I may have found out so far about Dr. Raela Fellner’s murder. Right?”

  “And have you found out anything?” the chief responded smoothly. Unsurprisingly, she appeared to be in charge.

  “Nothing, really, although I’ve developed some suspicions. How about you? Do you know yet who the perpetrator is?”

  “We’ve developed some suspicions,” Chief Loretta repeated with a smile. “How about if you tell us where you are so far? And before we go any further, I do want to incorporate some formalities. First, I want to remind you that, no matter what y
ou may have done or thought in the past, you are not a member of our team in any way. You do understand that, I assume.”

  All three stared at me, as if waiting for my objection. But I said, “I’ve just been fortunate enough to be able to help you. I didn’t set out to intrude in any of those prior murder investigations, and I certainly don’t intend to here. But when friends of mine become suspects and I believe them innocent, I want to help them if I can.”

  The chief nodded. “I assume that’s the situation this time, too.”

  “That’s right. You’re aware that I work at the Knobcone Veterinary Clinic part-time as a veterinary technician, and I gather that a person you believe to be a major suspect is Dr. Reed Storme, who works there, too. Correct?”

  “Unlike you, we can’t reveal who our suspects are.” The chief’s tone was no longer smooth but sharp, as if attempting to stab into me the reality of professional versus amateur.

  Well, heck, I knew that. And clearly I was unlikely to learn anything helpful here, at least right now.

  But I nevertheless could provide some information and suggestions that should, if they were smart, get these professionals to open their minds and let some other suspects in.

  “Okay,” I said. “I understand. But I probably shouldn’t say any more either. I mean, I’m just a civilian, and if I start pointing fingers, accusing people as possible suspects, I might be liable to being sued for defamation, right? I don’t think that can happen to you.” I’d had some concerns about this before, too—but not enough to keep my nose out of those situations either.

  “We just want your opinion, not accusations,” Loretta said smoothly. “We’d need a lot more than you’re likely to be able to suggest anyway. You can suspect, maybe even have an idea of what evidence might exist and where it might be, but you haven’t the ability to go grab it. Tell you what. You tell us who you believe at this point to be guilty, and why, and we’ll follow up in our professional capacity any leads that appear potentially legit.”

  In other words, things were different than before. They’d never liked my snooping, but since I’d actually figured out who the killer was in each of the prior cases, they’d come to respect me, at least somewhat.

  “But you still won’t let me know your opinions, or who you’re zeroing in on, or anything like that?” I knew I sounded grumpy, but, hey, I was about to give them something for nothing. Yes, I’d decided to go along with what they said.

  “We recognize you still don’t know all the legalities,” the chief said smoothly. “But we so much appreciate your help, Carrie. You’re clearly one smart and interested civilian. And just remember how much pride you felt helping us figure out the killers before.”

  She was right about that, even though I had no interest in changing, or adding to, my current professions. But if I could help myself, and people I cared about, by being nosy—and now, letting the cops in on my suspicions—then what the heck?

  “All right,” I finally conceded. “I don’t have anything at all definitive yet, but I can let you know where I’ve been and where I think I’m going.”

  I looked at the detectives, and the smug smiles on their faces only irritated me more.

  “That’s wonderful,” the police chief responded, standing and taking my hands as if we were now good buddies. “I don’t need to be here for this, but Detectives Morana and Crunoll will ask you questions, take notes, and record what you say—and then they’ll report to me. Okay, everyone?”

  After we agreed, Police Chief Loretta thanked me and left the room.

  And there I was—again—with the detectives who’d been sometime thorns in my side ever since my first, unanticipated murder investigation.

  “All right,” I said with a sigh. “I can only hang around here a short while longer. This is what I’ve discovered so far.”

  Twenty-Four

  I started out where I wanted to, at least. I told them what they must already know I believed. No, what I felt sure about.

  “I mentioned Reed Storme for a reason,” I began. “You interviewed him along with a whole bunch of other employees at my veterinary clinic, and a lot of those people probably mentioned that Reed had argued with the murder victim. You’re also probably aware that I’m dating Reed, so I have a reason to be biased. But even so, I know he didn’t do it. Period.” I glared from one detective to the other and back again, ignoring the amusement on their faces.

  I wanted them to believe me, of course—but also realized they didn’t.

  Which gave me even more of a motivation to state my other suspicions and the reasons for them, so that the cops, too, would concentrate elsewhere. If they paid any attention to me, at least.

  “Okay,” Bridget said. “We understand. Now tell us more.”

  In other words, I figured, they heard me but didn’t necessarily believe me—so if I wanted to protect Reed, I’d better point my fingers in a different direction and have some backup for it.

  “Right now all I have are suspicions,” I cautioned. “The person at the top of my list is Dr. Oliver Browning. I’m sure you know that Dr. Raela made him an offer to work at her new clinic as a veterinarian, but he was still deciding whether to accept this offer at the time when she was killed. I don’t know how they got along, but Oliver was the one to find her body, or so he told everyone. I’m sure you’re aware that, last night, he was back at the murder location, now that it isn’t blocked with crime scene tape. I found him there and we wound up calling this department to keep an eye on the building, since Oliver said it was unlocked when he got there.”

  “And what do you believe his motive was?” Bridget asked.

  “I have no idea whether or not they had some kind of relationship beyond the possibility of working together at her new clinic, but they definitely worked together at the San Diego clinic. They could have felt some animosity toward each other because of their work there, or maybe because Oliver apparently didn’t just jump right in and accept Raela’s employment offer, or—well, I can come up with other possibilities, too, but don’t have an answer yet.”

  “Right. And some of those possibilities also could apply to Dr. Storme and the new vet at your clinic, Dr. Jon Arden.” Wayne was speaking mildly, but his eyes were glued onto mine as if he was awaiting my reaction.

  “True,” I said, “especially where Jon is concerned. He’s one of my suspects also, since there could have been some friction between them regarding her coming to town and opening a competing clinic, or about something I’m not aware of at all. But they did know each other.”

  “Right,” Bridget said. “Anyone else?”

  “Well, I haven’t really eliminated anyone yet, but I’m not aware of everyone in Raela’s life, let alone those who had grudges against her. One possibility is their boss from San Diego, Dr. Mickey Krohan. He’s currently visiting here and has probably talked to you.”

  I was staring back at Wayne and thought I saw a hint of a nod, but of course he wasn’t cutting me any slack.

  “Okay,” he said. “It does sound as if you’ve thought about this a lot. But we also know that you don’t always focus on the most obvious suspects. Anyone else on your mind?”

  “Everyone who knew Raela may have disliked her,” I blurted out. “She wasn’t a very nice person.”

  Wayne snorted as Bridget shot me a grim smile. “Maybe, maybe not. That’s not helpful in finding her killer, though. Everyone she knew didn’t come to town and off her.”

  “True,” Wayne said. “So, like Detective Bridget said, who else are you focusing on?”

  “I’m still pondering,” I said.

  “How about the other boss in question, Dr. Arvus Kline?” Bridget asked. “Have you talked to him about her?”

  Wow. Even after what they’d said before, they actually named someone they were considering—someone I hadn’t mentioned. And someone I wouldn’t have mentioned, since I knew he couldn’t have done it.

  “Only in generalities,” I replied cautiously, the
n decided to state my opinion. “Arvie might not have been thrilled about the new competition, if you could call it that. But we have a wonderful clinic and all pet owners around here know it. He had no motive to kill her.” I glared from one detective to the other as if trying to etch that fact into their minds, but I had no idea if I’d succeeded.

  Arvie might even have been their second most favorite suspect, after Reed.

  “Okay, got it,” Bridget responded after a drawn-out silence.

  I wanted in the worst way to ask them again who they were looking at—besides those I’d mentioned, of course. Or even, among those, whether they favored Oliver or Jon or Mickey Krohan, since Reed and Arvie were innocent.

  One thing seemed apparent to me, though. Considering that Raela was killed by a drug used for euthanasia in veterinary clinics, it wasn’t farfetched to focus on people who worked in veterinary clinics.

  Being one of them myself—though they hadn’t indicated so far that they actually considered me a suspect—I chose not even to mention that.

  I realized that a thought I’d had earlier might be appropriate to air, so I said, “I imagine you know that the attorney Shea Alderson had Raela as a client when she was putting together her veterinary clinic. She might have said something to him about someone she didn’t like, or who was giving her a hard time or was otherwise arguing with her. I assume you’ve interviewed him, too?”

  Once again they didn’t exactly answer, but they traded glances. Did that mean they had spoken with Shea—or they hadn’t? And were they considering him as a suspect? I was, though Shea seemed more of a potential information source.

  “Anyway, he might have some ideas,” I continued. “I talked with him a little and I gather he may be bound by attorney-client privilege, but the fact that he didn’t talk to me doesn’t mean he’d act the same way with authorities like you.” Although if they’d gone that route already, they probably didn’t want to waste their time.

  Well, I’d told them all I had in mind, except … “Look,” I said. “I’m not about to tell you how to conduct your interviews, but if you—”