3 Panthers Play for Keeps

by Clea Simon

  There was something, to be sure. Spot had stopped by an opened door. I looked in at what seemed to be an office. On the far wall, big windows opened onto the grounds. A low fog seemed to hang over the wooded area, dense and gray. “Oh, he won’t be going in there,” said Dierdre.

  “But if Richard is working in there…” Spot, standing by my side, might have been staring out those windows. Now that the rain had stopped, the squirrels were getting frisky. I thought there might be something else going on that was attracting his interest, though.

  “Richard no longer handles any paperwork. Not anymore.” Dierdre had adopted a dismissive tone, and I wondered how long that would last once her husband was awake. The fog looked awfully thick. “He’s retired.”

  “Retired, my ass.” Richard Haigen announced himself with a growl, like a bear coming out of hibernation. I half expected to see him out in those woods, but when I turned, I found him rumbling down the hall, one hand out to the side in what had probably become a habit. “Who’s there, Di?”

  “It’s Pru.” I announced myself. At my side, Spot came to attention. “I’m here with Spot.”

  “And you didn’t wake me?” That was directed toward his wife. Neither of us responded, but I saw her pull herself up and waited for what was to come. “Dierdre?”

  “You needed the sleep, dear.” Even with the endearment, she didn’t sound that affectionate. Still, I was surprised that she hadn’t apologized. I got my second shock when he didn’t respond, not even with a snarl. Maybe there had been a paradigm shift, as she assumed more of the day-to-day running of the Haigen household.

  “Well, what’s on the docket for today?” He seemed energized, perhaps by the nap. “Another training session?”

  “We could do that, if you want.” I still hadn’t had lunch, but I’d trade a burger for a chance to get into that office. “I really came to bring Spot by, though. I know it’s earlier than we had planned, but I thought, given everything, he should stay with you now.”

  He looked up, the confusion clear on his face. I guessed Dierdre had been wrong. Creighton hadn’t called.

  “You’ve not heard about Laurel Kroft?” I watched his face for any sign of response. “Have you?”

  He stared at me, his mouth opening slightly, and I could have sworn his confusion was real. When he turned toward his wife, however, I thought I saw her shake her head, ever so slightly.

  “Dierdre, what’s going on?” Macular degeneration or not, he’d seen it too—or sensed some change in her.

  “Now, Richard, don’t start getting excited.” She walked up to him and put her hand on his arm. But if she thought she was going to lead him out of the room, she didn’t know her husband.

  “Don’t treat me like a child.” He shook her off. “I’m going blind, not deaf. What happened?”

  “Laurel had an accident, dear.” She stayed by his side. “A tragic accident.”

  I opened my mouth and then shut it. So Dierdre had known about Laurel. Curious to hear what she knew—and how she was going to peddle this to her irate spouse—I waited. Spot stiffened, anticipating a threat.

  To my surprise, Richard didn’t argue. If anything, her non-explanation seemed to take the edge off his anger. “An—accident?” His voice was softer, uncertain. “She—you mean?”

  Dierdre nodded. Then, as if unsure whether her husband could see her, she elaborated. “We’ve lost her, Richard. It was tragic, but…it happened. She’s gone.”

  It was the coolest rendering of a murder I’d ever heard. Odds were, Creighton wouldn’t have shared everything, but the platitudes Dierdre were offering sounded like Laurel had died peaceably in her bed. Maybe she didn’t know the details. It was possible that nobody had told her. Still, she had to know the pretty shrink had died violently and way too young.

  What was more chilling was that he seemed to accept it. As I watched, he deflated, all that anger dissipating and leaving him so weak, he reached for the wall. Spot, by my side, stood up.

  “Work.” It was a simple statement. He, too, sensed Richard’s vulnerability and sought to go to him. I held the dog back, though, wanting to see what would happen next.

  What I saw was a complete turnaround from their usual routine. Dierdre came forward and took her husband’s arm again. This time, he didn’t shake her off. Instead, he seemed to lean on her as she turned and walked him down the hall. I was dying to follow, but the reason I’d silently given Spot held true for me as well. Better to watch and learn.

  “Work?” Spot wasn’t convinced. Seeing the man stumble, I could understand why. But Dierdre had him by the arm, and so I held back.

  “So…she’s gone?” His deep, low voice was soft, but it carried clearly. Dierdre stiffened slightly, probably aware of how close we were, and murmured something I couldn’t catch. “What the hell happened?” He was still audible and, I was glad to hear, not taking her simple explanation at face value.

  I still couldn’t catch what she was saying, but they’d turned now into that sterile living room, so I took the chance of moving closer. Spot’s nails were the only sound we made.

  “What the hell is he playing at?” Richard Haigen was whispering, but in his agitation, his question was clearly audible. “I’ve got to call him.”

  “No.” Dierdre’s answer was clear. “I’ll—I’ll talk to Benazi.”

  I froze. I’d known there was a connection, but still. A million questions raced through my head: Who was “he”—was that Benazi or someone else? Had Richard wanted to call Benazi, and had his wife’s response meant that she would contact the man for him? Or was she offering the silver-haired gangster as an alternative? Short of bringing the dead back to life, I failed to understand what one man could do, anyway. Slick as he was, Benazi was no miracle worker. As far as I knew, he was better at making people disappear than reappear.

  Before I could even phrase a question, Dierdre reappeared, her eyes widening at the sight of me.

  “I wasn’t sure if I should take off.” It was the best excuse I could manage. “But I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  She tilted her head and eyed me. I smiled. “I’ve got other clients, but I didn’t want to leave Spot without giving you a heads-up.”

  She nodded and, after a moment, reached for Spot’s lead. “I don’t think Richard will be up for much walking today.” Her voice was cold. “Still, he might like the company.”

  “I’m sorry I broke the news.” I was watching her. Hoping to see something that would give me a clue. “I thought Detective Creighton had called.”

  She shook me off. “He forgets things. It’s the stress. You should go.”

  I was being dismissed.

  I stalled as she walked me toward the door. “Spot should be walked before bed.” I gave her a rundown on the dog’s basic care, wondering all the while what was going on. “Or you can just let him out in the yard.”

  I felt a wave of guilt. Not for Richard, who had appeared honestly distraught, and certainly not for Dierdre. They were, as Tracy Horlick liked to point out, rich. That money would cushion a lot of blows. But Spot was not going to be cared for here. Not unless the Haigens hired some more help and fast.

  “I’ll check in tomorrow.” I also hadn’t found out anything about that donation. Or Richard’s relation to Laurel. “In fact, I’ll make a point of coming by.”

  From the way she was looking at Spot, I wondered what room she was going to lock him in. Dierdre Haigen might be better dressed than Tracy Horlick, but they had some traits in common. “May I have one more word with Richard?” When she wanted to, Dierdre could out-shepherd a sheltie.

  “You saw how upset he was.” She might as well be nipping at my heels. I stood firm. “It’s important that I bring Spot to him.” I was making this up as I went along. She waivered. “I’m transferring dominance, you see.”

  She paused for a moment and
then nodded, as if she did. I took the lead from her and Spot, eager to be doing anything, sprang up.

  “Work?”

  “Work.” I said. It would sound more like a command than a confirmation. Together we walked into the sitting room where Richard had collapsed into one of those low white chairs. Beyond him, out the window, the fog looked more contained, like a small cloud. Like…

  “Richard? What happened out there?” It wasn’t the question I’d meant to ask.

  “What?” He looked up, his eyes unnaturally large behind those glasses.

  “The smoke.” It was a guess, but it sparked something in Dierdre.

  “Nothing.” She pushed between us, just like Spot would do if I were a threat. “A small fire. One of the outbuildings.”

  “One of the buildings?” Her husband blinked up at her.

  “You know.” She snapped. “I told you.”

  He nodded, and she turned her focus on me. “As you can see, he is tired.”

  I couldn’t argue with that any longer. Whatever spirit he’d shown must have used up the last of his strength. It was time to assume my public role.

  “I’m going to give you Spot’s harness now,” I spoke slowly and clearly. Richard Haigen didn’t respond. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought he was staring out at the yard. At the smoke. For a moment, I wondered if he was even hearing me. But he looked up at me—and then down at the dog.

  “That’s a good animal,” he said. “I like animals, you know.”

  “I’m glad.” I confess, I was touched. And in that moment, I let my opportunity slide. I’d meant to ask him about the car—and about Benazi. But I stood there like a sap as he reached out to place one heavy hand on the dog’s head. And then Dierdre was on me, ushering me out the door. It was all I could do to pause and turn back, to see the man and the dog sitting there together.

  “Spot?” I didn’t even know how to phrase my questions. Get what you can. I’ll be back. All those thoughts ran through my head.

  “I know.” The thought came as strong and sure as if he’d spoken out loud. “But she’s gone. She’s gone.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  I couldn’t explain it all to Wallis, and when I brought up the fire my tabby colleague was particularly unamused. Fire in the wild is a bad thing. Dangerous for all, even when we humans think we have it under control.

  “They knew, Wallis. It must have been an accident.” Even as I said it, I heard myself wondering. We’d had rain, but no lightning. And speaking of rain, I realized the fire must have been recent to generate that mix of steam and wood smoke after the earlier storm.

  “They think they can tame it.” Wallis was not amused. “Such fools.” She did, however, deign to share my belated lunch, licking at the rotisserie chicken I’d grabbed on the way home. Beauville’s gentrification had a few upsides; the gourmet mart was one of them. If Creighton and I managed to get together again, I might even try one of their overpriced wines.

  For now, though, I washed the food down with tap water. It had been a very full day, and I wanted to sort it out with a clear head. Besides, Wallis had already made a few snide comments about my “so-called thirst.”

  “You snore when you drink, you know.” She chimed in now, as she finished off a wing. “It’s not attractive in a bed partner.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was referring to herself or to any potential lovers. Before I could ask, however, my phone rang. Not Creighton—Wallis isn’t psychic that way—but a blocked number that I didn’t recognize.

  “Ms. Marlowe.” It was Benazi. I looked at the phone. “I’m sorry it took me so long to return your call.” I had the sense he knew what I’d just done. It was a little unsettling. “You left a message at the charming inn where I’d been staying, and I’m afraid it took them till now to forward it to me.”

  Charming inn, my ass. However, I got his message: he wasn’t traceable. Not by me, certainly not by the police.

  “Thank you for calling me back.” For all the steel in his words, there was velvet, too. It was easy to fall into his courtly ways. “I was hoping we could meet again?”

  From the silence on the other end of the line, I wondered if I’d lost him. Wallis stared at me from her perch on the table. “That was subtle.” I could feel her scorn.

  “You…suggested some things when we had dinner.” I kept talking. I didn’t want to mention Haigen, or what I’d overheard, but there was enough going on to give me cover. “As you may have heard, we’ve had an eventful time here in our little town. I’d like to know if there’s anything you think that I should know.”

  “I would be honored to help you.” His voice was soft as always. Smooth. But the way he accented the last word meant something.

  “Just me?” Wallis lashed her tail. I shrugged. At least he was still on the line. “Look,” I decided to chance it, “you know the cops want to talk with you. I’m not helping them. But another woman died, and if there’s something you can tell me so I’m not next, I’d appreciate it.”

  I didn’t expect the chuckle. Even Wallis’ ears pricked up. “Ms. Marlowe, you always had a way with words.” I waited. “Of course, I’d love the pleasure of your company again. Shall we say dinner this evening?”

  “The inn?” It was what I’d wanted—a place Creighton could easily stake out—but alarm bells were going off in my head.

  “Oh, let’s try something new.” He sounded playful. Flirtatious even. “Why don’t I pick you up at your place. Shall we say, seven?”

  I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry.

  He must have heard my faint croak. “An unseemly hour, I know. But out here, our options are limited, and so…”

  “Seven’s fine,” I managed to say. “I’ll be here.”

  “Lovely.” He sounded like he hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary. “I look forward to it.”

  Wallis was watching me as I hung up, and I could feel her curiosity. “What?” I asked her. “It’s dinner.”

  I knew it was more than that. Knew, too, that I had changed the rules Creighton had laid down. What were my options?

  “You didn’t have to tell him about Creighton.” She wasn’t blinking, and her green eyes were intense.

  “He knew anyway. He has a sense about such things.”

  “He knows you,” she said, flicking her tail once. “All he had to do was apply the slightest pressure.…It’s really quite an effective technique.”

  I didn’t want to hear it, and I turned away. If Benazi was going to pick me up at seven, I had a lot to do to get ready. Ostensibly, the old gangster was doing me a favor. Looking out for me. But something about him was as cold as a lizard, and I had no doubt he’d eliminate anything or anyone he viewed as a threat. I had to prepare myself for any eventuality.

  “Don’t you think it’s already too late?” Wallis jumped down from the table and had begun walking away. For a moment, I worried that she was leaving me. She must have sensed it, because she stopped, turning partway to fix me again with those green eyes. “You’re worried about going out with him.” The afternoon light caught the green, making them unnaturally bright against the doorway’s shade. “But he’s coming here, Pru. He knows where you live.”

  “We, Wallis. Where we live.” With a swallow, I confessed. “He’s known for a while.”

  Her look said it all, dismissive with scorn. “And now he’s coming over.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  It was with mixed feelings that I drove back to the shelter. I didn’t want to run into Creighton again. Didn’t want to have to lie to him about Benazi calling me back or about that strange donation letter. And as much as I’d have liked to have found out what he’d been up to while I was traipsing through the woods with Albert’s friends, I doubted he was going to volunteer that info. But I had about two hours before my dinner date, and there was still one l
oose end I could tug. The more I could unravel before Benazi picked me up, the better shape I’d be in to get information. Or, well, I didn’t want to think about what else. So I kept my phone off and parked down the street, slipping into the shelter as quickly as a vole into its hole.

  “Hey, Pru!” Albert had no such compunctions, and greeted me with a wave. “I was wondering if you were going to come back here. Hey, where’s the dog?”

  “He’s a service dog, Albert.” I cleared the space between the door and his desk in record time, hoping proximity would lower his voice. “I took him over to the Haigens’ place, where he can do what he was trained for.”

  “Man, they have all the luck.” I suppressed a snort of laughter. He looked up at me. “No, really. I mean, getting any animal they want.”

  “The man is losing his eyesight.” I wanted to be angry. Albert was just too clueless. “I know he’s rich, but that’s pretty bad.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but—” I waited to hear what Albert would find an extenuating circumstance. “Well, he gets everything.”

  It was a lame answer, best ignored. And I’d come here for a reason. “That was a good turnout for the hunt.” I’d pulled the guest chair over and leaned back in it. “A good crew.”

  As expected, Albert puffed himself up. “We know how to band together out here.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry we couldn’t do any better.” I thought about throwing in a smile and decided against it. No use scaring the man. “Your pal, Stu, he really knows what he’s doing.”

  If Albert were a cat he would have purred. Then again, if Albert were a cat he’d be cleaner. “Real woodsman,” I added for good measure, though what I was really wondering about were his other talents, the kind that gave him control over people. And who, if anyone, had hired him. “Know how I can get in touch with him?”

  Albert’s bushy eyebrows went up at that, followed by a blush. Our animal-control officer might be afraid of the opposite sex, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like to speculate. Well, let him. I gave him that grin now to fuel the fire.