by B R Snow
“That’s great news. Hang in there, Oslo,” she said, kneeling to gently rub the dog’s leg and get a closer look at the bandage covering most of his head. Then she stood and arched her back.
“When Sammy and Jill get in I’ll go over everything with them,” Josie said. “And then you can head up to the house to get some sleep.”
“No, I’ll be fine,” I said. “We need to track down Mrs. Calducci today. And I’d like to swing by Freddie’s office to see what else he’s figured out. We should also try to have a chat with Jackson at some point to get an update.”
“Well, look who’s been making a to-do list,” Josie said, laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”
“The timing just seems suspicious,” I said, climbing to my feet.
“What timing?”
“He died the night after he had dinner at our restaurant,” I said. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Not unless the man died from food poisoning,” Josie said.
“Geez, I hadn’t even thought of that,” I said, frowning. “Now that would be a total disaster.”
“Suzy, the man ate dinner every night of his life. It just so happened that his last one was at C’s.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But you saw the looks Calducci was getting from some of the people at the restaurant. They were hostile, even hateful.”
“So what?” Josie said, heading toward our reception area. “The guy was a gangster. Some people are bound to hate him.”
“Maybe,” I said, following her into the reception area where Sammy and Jill were behind the counter getting their morning organized.
“Suzy, would you please give it a rest?” Josie said. “It’s way too early for this. Morning, guys.”
“Good morning,” Jill said, giving us a wide smile. Then she took a good look at us and frowned. “Gee, are you okay? You both looked exhausted.”
“Hi, folks,” Sammy said, glancing back and forth at us. “Yeah, I agree. Did we miss something?”
Josie gave them the short version, and they listened closely. When she finished, they both started to apologize profusely for being out of town last night.
“Stop it,” Josie said, holding up a hand. “It was your night off. So don’t apologize for not being at work. We were fine. And Suzy didn’t faint or throw up once.”
“Funny,” I said, then waited out the laughter. “I’m going to go take a shower. Why don’t you take Sammy and Jill through the process for Oslo, then we’ll head out?”
“What makes you think I want to tag along on your wild goose chase?” Josie said, laughing.
“Well, first, because I know you’re as curious as I am about what happened,” I said.
“Maybe a little,” Josie said, giving me a small shrug.
“Second, because I thought we’d swing by the Café for breakfast,” I said. “Corned beef hash, home fries, two over-easy, sourdough toast. I’m buying.”
“That’s not playing fair, and you know it,” she said.
“Whatever. Are you in?” I said, heading toward the back door.
“I’ll be waiting in the car.”
A half-hour later we made the short drive to the diner, calling Freddie and Jackson on the way to see if they’d like to join us. After I promised to pay, they both quickly agreed and were already sitting in a booth when we arrived. We sat down, greeted them, and gave our breakfast order to the waitress.
“How’s the dog doing?” Jackson said.
“So far, so good,” Josie said. “It’ll be at least a couple more days before we’ll know much more.”
“What are his chances for a full recovery?” Jackson said.
“Historically, with dogs, they’re pretty low,” Josie said. “But I think we got it early, and if the biopsy comes back clean, his chances might be good. He’s a young dog, and pretty big and strong.”
“And he had the benefit of Josie’s magic hands working on him,” I said.
“Lucky dog,” Freddie said, laughing as he glanced at Jackson.
Jackson laughed along, but they both stopped when they caught the look we were giving them.
“Really?” Josie said.
“Sorry,” Freddie said. “I should know better than that by now.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Jackson said. “Old habits die hard.”
“Forget it,” Josie said. “You’ve got a lot of other problems on your mind.”
“Yeah, like trying to walk upright,” I said, laughing.
“Oh, good one,” Josie said, raising her coffee mug in a mock toast.
“You know,” Freddie said. “A lot of women probably would have considered that a compliment.”
I glanced at Josie, then we both looked at Freddie and shook our heads.
“Shall we continue this conversation, or would you prefer to talk about something different? Maybe like how Calducci died?” I said, giving him my best crocodile smile.
“Let’s go with Calducci,” Freddie said.
“Yeah, let’s talk about him,” Jackson said. “If we stay on this topic, Freddie, you know these two will report straight back to Chef Claire.”
“I know,” Freddie said. “It’s always three against one when it comes to Chef Claire. Neither one of us stands a chance.”
“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “We’re the reason neither one of you can make any real progress with Chef Claire.” I glanced at Josie. “Do you believe these guys?”
“That’s rhetorical, right?” Josie said, laughing.
“Okay, I surrender,” Freddie said. “What do you want to know about Calducci?”
“Any update on the toxicology report?” I said.
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Freddie said. “I stayed up all night and finished it early this morning.”
“I’m impressed,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said. “But I didn’t have much choice. I was getting a ton of pressure to get it done.”
“From who?” I said.
“All the usual suspects,” Freddie said, shrugging. “Our favorite FBI agent called me as soon as he heard Calducci was dead.”
“You mean Chef Claire’s favorite FBI agent, don’t you?” Josie deadpanned.
“That’s not funny, Josie. And you know it,” Freddie snapped.
Agent Tompkins was an FBI agent we’d met a couple of times before. When we’d first met, he was engaged to be married, and Chef Claire, who was immediately attracted to the handsome agent, had been extremely disappointed. But the last time we’d seen Agent Tompkins, he’d informed us that the engagement was off, and Chef Claire had perked up when she heard that piece of news. And while nothing had happened between the FBI agent and Chef Claire, both Jackson and Freddie were threatened by that possibility and turned jealous every time Agent Tompkins’ name came up.
“Agent Tompkins?” I said. “That’s interesting.”
“Not really. I find him pretty pedestrian,” Freddie said.
Josie and I both snorted. Freddie ignored us and continued.
“For obvious reasons, Calducci has been on the FBI’s radar for years, and they are very interested in the circumstances about how he died. And Tompkins started asking questions about the woman shooter. Had we seen her around? Did I know where she was?”
“What did you tell him?” I said, leaning forward.
“What do you think I said? I told him to do his own legwork,” Freddie said.
“That probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say, Freddie,” Josie said.
“Hey, I don’t work for the FBI,” he said. “And they don’t intimidate me. Especially that guy.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Josie said. “I was referring to your comment about him doing his own legwork.”
“What about it?” Freddie said.
“I can’t believe I have to explain it,” Josie said, glancing at me.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, laughing. “Slow learner.”
“What are you talking about?” Freddie sn
apped.
“Let’s say Agent Tompkins decides you’re right and that he does need to do some legwork,” Josie said.
“Okay,” Freddie said. “I’m listening.”
“And I’m so glad you called it legwork because it’s really going to help drive home the point I’m about to make,” Josie said, laughing.
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Freddie said.
“Where would Agent Tompkins have to be physically located to conduct this legwork?” Josie said.
Freddie sat back in the booth, then his eyes grew wide.
“I didn’t think of that,” he said.
“Way to go, Sherlock,” Jackson said.
“I think I’ll call him back later and give him a full update,” Freddie said. “You know, maybe save him a trip.”
“Good idea,” Jackson said. “We’ve got enough problems with Chef Claire without him hanging around. Can you think of anything else we can tell him that might keep him away?”
“Not at the moment,” Freddie said, then glanced across the table at us. “You guys have any suggestions?”
“Apart from reminding Chef Claire to shave her legs, I’ve got nothing,” Josie deadpanned.
Josie and I laughed as we made room for our waitress who’d returned with our food. We ate in silence for a few minutes, and when it appeared that Freddie and Jackson had cooled off a bit, I restarted the conversation.
“Who else has been putting pressure on you to get the toxicology report wrapped up?” I said.
“Detective Abrams from the state police has called a couple of times,” Freddie said, working his way into a big stack of pancakes. “Apparently he has a couple of open cases that have Calducci’s name next to them.”
“Not much gets past Detective Abrams,” I said.
“No, he’s really good,” Josie said, dunking a piece of toast in egg yolk, then forking a pile of corned beef hash on top.
“Yeah, I like him,” Freddie said, before nodding his head at Jackson. “And, of course, this guy has been calling me every half hour.”
“It’s not for me. I’d be happy to wait,” Jackson said. “It’s Howard.”
“The mayor?” I said, frowning. “Why is he taking such an active interest?”
“Well, Calducci is about, what, the seventh person who’s died around here since he took office?” Jackson said. “So I’m sure that’s part of it. But somebody broke into Howard’s place, and he’s wondering if there’s a connection.”
I felt a jolt of adrenaline surge through me. And while the corned beef hash was excellent, I knew that it wasn’t the source of my excitement.
“Somebody broke into Howard’s pharmacy?” I said. “On our opening night at the restaurant?”
“Yeah, which makes sense I guess,” Jackson said. “Every cop within a forty mile radius was probably there having dinner. Perfect night for a robbery.”
“What did they take?” I said, starting to toy with what was left of my breakfast.
“From a pharmacy?” Jackson said, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t get snarky, Jackson,” I snapped. “I meant specifically.”
“It’s quite a long list,” Jackson said.
“You’re hedging,” I said, staring at Jackson.
Then a lightbulb went off, and I looked at Freddie who was doing his best to ignore me.
“You found a match, didn’t you?” I said. “Calducci had a stomach full of stuff stolen from Howard’s pharmacy, didn’t he?”
“Maybe,” Freddie said.
“Good work,” Josie said, nodding at me.
“Thanks,” I said, then refocused on Freddie. “What was it?”
Freddie looked at Jackson who eventually shrugged and nodded.
“Go ahead,” Jackson said. “You know she won’t let it go until you tell her.”
“You know me so well, Jackson,” I said, beaming at him. “Okay, Freddie, fess up.”
“Calducci had a massive heart attack that was probably caused by a massive dose of opioids combined with a lot of alcohol,” Freddie said.
“A lot?” Josie said. “Is that a technical term?”
“I could give you the total volume down to the millimeter,” Freddie said. “But let’s just say it was a couple of bottles of high-end spirits and leave it at that.”
“What were the opioids?” I said.
“Mainly Vicodin and Percocet,” Freddie said.
“Did Calducci have prescriptions for them?” I said.
“He did,” Freddie said, nodding. “For chronic back pain. So it’s possible it was self-inflicted.”
“Suicide?” I said, shaking my head. “No, Calducci wasn’t the type to do something like that.”
“What?” Jackson said. “Mobsters can’t get depressed like the rest of us?”
“I’m sure some do,” I said. “But Calducci didn’t seem depressed at all.”
“No, not one bit,” Josie said. “In fact, listening to him go on about his new dog, he sounded anything but depressed.”
“Exactly,” I said. “And who could be suicidal just after they got a puppy?”
“I’m not even going to try to argue with that kind of logic,” Freddie said, laughing.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Josie said.
“Why not?” Freddie said.
“Because you’re not a dog person,” I said.
“What a cruel thing to say,” Freddie said. “I like dogs.”
“Yes, but there’s a difference between someone who likes dogs and a dog person,” Josie said.
“Is there now?” Freddie snapped. “Would you care to explain it?”
“A dog person would understand the difference without needing an explanation,” I said.
“Exactly,” Josie said, polishing off the last of her home fries.
“Unbelievable,” Freddie said. “Now I’m not a dog person.”
“It’s not a criticism, Freddie,” I said. “It’s just a simple statement of fact.”
“You two are something else,” he said, pushing his plate away.
“We’re not trying to offend you, Freddie,” Josie said. “We’re just pointing out the difference between the two. Let me ask you a question.”
“Sure. This oughta be good,” Freddie said, sitting back with his arms folded and staring at us.
“Suppose I’d called you last night and told you that your dog needed brain surgery. And while you were pretty sure you could afford it, the expense would definitely set you back financially for a while.”
“You’re asking me if I would give you the okay?” Freddie said.
“Yeah.”
“How much money are we talking about?” Freddie said.
“For the tests and surgery I did last night, somewhere between twelve and fifteen thousand,” Josie said.
“Fifteen grand?” Freddie said, laughing. “On a dog?”
“There you go,” Josie said. “Now do you see the difference?”
“A dog person wouldn’t think twice about it,” I said. “Assuming they could, in fact, afford it.”
“And if you ever saw the look on the face of a dog person who couldn’t afford it, you’d really understand what we were talking about,” Josie said.
“You’re going to ask the widow Calducci to pay you fifteen thousand dollars?” Freddie said.
“No,” I said. “We did the surgery without permission, and aren’t going to ask her for a nickel.”
“Why not?” Freddie said.
“Because she’s not a dog person,” I said.
“But we are,” Josie said.
“Remind me never to talk dogs with them again,” Freddie said to Jackson.
“That’s probably another mistake on your part, Freddie,” Josie deadpanned.
“Geez, now what?” he said.
“You might want to start working on becoming a dog person,” Josie said. “At some point, Chef Claire, who by the way is a total dog person, is probably going to want to get one. And your lack of
empathy for everything that entails could put you behind the eight-ball.”
I looked down at the table to hide my smile.
“Really?” Freddie said. “That’s news to me.” Freddie, frowning, looked over at Jackson. “Did you know she might be thinking about getting a dog?”
Jackson glanced at us and caught Josie’s wink. He flashed a quick smile, then looked at Freddie and nodded his head vigorously.
“Sure. Absolutely,” Jackson said. “Apart from the restaurant, that’s all she’s been talking about lately. I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”
Freddie sat quietly, then got up from the booth.
“I need to run,” he said. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll see you guys around.”
We watched him head out the door, then started laughing.
“That was cruel,” I said.
“He deserved it,” Josie said. “Where do you think he’s going?”
“Probably to the Inn to check out our inventory,” I said, still laughing.
“Now that I think about, maybe I should get Chef Claire-”
“It was just a joke, Jackson,” Josie said, cutting him off. “Chef Claire hasn’t decided to get a dog. Don’t do anything stupid,” Josie said.
“No, I’m serious,” Jackson said. “She does love dogs as much as you two.”
“She has more than enough dogs around to keep her company,” Josie said. “And she’s a bit busy at the moment in case you haven’t noticed.”
“You guys are incredibly busy and seem to manage just fine,” Jackson said.
“That’s because our business is dogs, Jackson,” I said.
“Then why don’t you do me a huge favor and just stick to doing that?” Jackson said, grinning.
I shook my head, and Josie started laughing.
“Man,” I said, glancing back and forth at them. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
Chapter 7
After breakfast, we stopped by the restaurant after we noticed that Chef Claire’s car was already parked outside. We went in the back door that led directly into the kitchen and found her standing next to the man who sold us most of the vegetables the restaurant used. Chef Claire gave us a quick wave then continued her conversation.
“Geez, I don’t know, Luther,” Chef Claire said, frowning. “Is that the best you can do? That’s a lot of money for mizuna.”
