by Tonya Kappes
“Let’s just say he wanted to see if I’d come out of retirement.” She jingles her way back to the coffee maker to refill her cup. Hmm…her sway has a little too much sashay for me to believe that’s all the contact was about.
“And?” I have to wonder if Carl has an ulterior motive.
“And, I told him no.” She turns around and she puts her nose in the steady steams to smell the fresh brew. “I’m officially retired.”
I watch her make her way to the couch and sit down with Herbie right alongside. “Are you sure that’s all he wants?” I don’t even bother to be subtle. Aunt Matilda should have a social life, but Carl?
She gives me the look I know all too well. The stepping-over-the-boundary look.
With a stiff upper lip, I sit on the stool next to Erin. She seems to be comatose, unresponsive. I break her silence. “Think Erin. Is there anything, a reason why someone would want Kent dead?” I have to get to the bottom of Kent’s murder.
She looks up and her eye-lids are as red as blood. “No. Nothing.”
“No conversations? Nothing?”
“No.” Her whisper is barely audible.
I think back to what few conversation she and I have had about Kent or what little I know. “There’s only one path to pursue. What about the girl who slapped him?” There’s a motive. “Who was she?”
Her eyes widen like she just remembered something then they dim again. “No. She was mad because he dumped her. He said she was the first girl he dated after he stopped ...um...that other life. He started his straight and narrow act with her.” Erin takes a sip of her coffee.
Hmm, so this girl really doesn’t have a reason to kill him, but she could know something.
“Wait!” Erin stands up and paces between the couch and the bar stool. Aunt Matilda peeps up from the couch to hear. “He did say something about that heiress from Macro Hard. You know, the one who died.”
“What?” I lean a little closer to hear her ramblings.
“I don’t know. I was so mad at him that I didn’t even listen to what he had to say about her.”
“Erin this is crucial. You need to think.” I grab her by the shoulders to steady her. Her bouncing aura is starting to make me sea sick. “This could be life or death for both of us.”
She closes her eyes, and a tear trickles down her cheek. “I can’t remember.”
I drop my hands to my side and let her go. She turns around and saunters down the hall to the bathroom. I look at Aunt Matilda just as I hear the shower turn on. Aunt Matilda throws her hands in the air like she gives up.
Thirteen
Herbie doesn’t make a peep all night long. Last night he jumped up on my bed and curled into a ball after a vicious cycle of going ‘round and ‘round only to lie at the foot of the bed like he’s been there his entire life.
“Good morning, Herbie.” I run my hand along his wiry hair and yawn. I’m already tired and my feet haven’t touched the floor. Herbie’s eye brows stick up all over the place, “It’s a shame you’ll have to go back to the kennel today,” I say, bending over to scratch his head.
He looks at me like I’m crazy.
Maybe I am. All night I wrestled with whether or not to tell Erin about Kent and his aura. Even if she doesn’t want to hear, I’m obligated by the rules of the Best Friend Handbook to give such privy information.
It’s far more likely that someone would want him dead than Erin. But he was killed at her apartment, so none of it makes any sense to me. Dabi’s smile keeps circling in my head, but unlike Herbie who finally settles down, her picture never fades. Two people I know have been killed. Two people who’ve sent dumps to Splitsville.com are dead. What’s their connection?
I sneak a look through the blinds to make sure no one is lurking in the yard. All night long I listened for someone or something to brush up against the bushes or the bricks of the house. Nothing. But of course not. I’m sure Kent was behind the threats and I am pretty sure he can’t send any more from the Great Beyond.
I feel a little more confident, but the bags under my eyes say a completely different story.
Herbie follows me to the kitchen, leaping over piles of magazines and dodging the occasional dust bunny. “I wish you could stay, but I don’t know how to take care of a dog. Plus you have all your friends at the kennel.” He tilts his head like he understands every word I’m saying. “If I keep you, you’d have to wear an ascot.” I crouch down and laugh out loud, as he jumps up and licks my face.
“Okay, let’s see how well you perform today.” He accepts my answer. I open the door and he runs into the backyard.
I start the coffee. My cell rings. It’s Bradley.
“Hi.” My voice sounds the way I feel. Tired. Worried. Exhausted.
“Well?” he asks.
“Well what?” I don’t know what he wants me to say.
“How did Herbie do? Did he pass your test?”
I glance out the window. He’s running around the back yard like he owns the place.
“He’s okay.” I play if off to prepare Bradley for the return of Herbie. Aunt Matilda barrels into the house, slamming the door behind her.
“He’s got eyebrows like your dad did.” She chortles. She’s right. The one thing I do remember about my father is his bushy eyebrows.
I put my finger up to my mouth. “Shh.” I point to the phone.
“Are you going to keep him?” Bradley asks.
It’s a good question. As cute as he is, I just don’t have a place in my life for a dog. But somehow I can’t bring myself to give him back quite yet. “No comment. I’ll let you know after I take him for a walk in the park with other dogs.” The whole reason I got Herbie in the first place is to take him back to the park so I can meet up with Michael again.
It’s time for Herbie’s starring role.
“Right,” Bradley says, but I hear the smile in his voice. I think he knows I actually like the little mutt. “Talk to you later, Liv.”
A warm feeling seeps through me. Liv. So maybe nicknames aren’t so bad after all.
Bradley and I hang up and I turn to Aunt Matilda. “Well?” she demands.
“Well what?” I ask walking over to kiss her.
“How did Herbie do?” she asks. She bent down and let him smother her face in licks.
“Just using him for Splitsville.com and Dabi’s murder.” Knowing her disapproval, I try not to look at her.
She glances at me with a lingering eye. She is in full jingle regalia. She has bells on her shoes, scarf and edge of her shirt. I sing the Grateful Dead ballad, She has rings on her fingers and bells on her shoes. . .”
Erin stumbles out of the guest room. She rubs her eyes, big black bags deep underneath. Looks like she didn’t get a wink of sleep. “I guess Aunt Matilda is here. Did Olivia fill you in?” She blinks under the waterfall of bangs hanging down her forehead.
I haven’t, but I do right then and there. Matilda listens intently, nodding every now and then. The only things I leave out are the threatening emails, the dump request from Kent, and his shifting auras.
“Do you have any advice?” Erin asks with tears sitting on the rim of her eyelids like water getting ready to spill over a dam.
Herbie scratches on the door to come in. Even though Kent is dead I still look around the yard before quickly shutting the door. Even if he sent the threats, there’s a live killer out there in Park City.
Matilda pushes her bracelets up her arm, and looks at me. “I think you need to check out something of Dabi’s. Something that might give you a clue why someone would want her murdered.”
She’s right. That something is Michael. Somehow I have to get him to open up about Dabi and what she was like. Things she liked to do.
“Do you think the same person killed Kent?” I question Aunt Matilda. She has these certain feelings that are generally spot on. I don’t know how she knows and I don’t want to know, but they are remarkably accurate.
“If we put our two heads
together,” she winks, “like old times, I bet we can come up with the killer.”
Herbie rubs up against Aunt Matilda’s legs, making the bells on her shoes jingle. He cocks his head to the side trying to figure out if it’s a toy or something he should steer clear from. Regardless, he breaks our conversation and leaves us with our separate thoughts.
“I think you found yourself a man.” Aunt Matilda catches me off guard a moment later. Is she talking about the killer?
Erin leans over the kitchen sink and looks out toward my cobblestone drive. She’s oblivious to what Aunt Matilda and I have been talking about. I don’t think she’s looking past the tip of her nose.
“Who?” I question Aunt Matilda. “What man?”
“I’m talking about Herbie.” She points toward the little grey guy on the couch like it’s been his spot the entire time.
I must admit, his pink aura goes great with his grey hair. I smile. I’d never have guessed his green stubborn aura at the kennels was a cover-up for his real pink, sweet, loving, happy, well-balanced color clinging tightly to his sleeping body.
“Not a good sign.” I smile towards my new friend who’s already made my home his new home. I’m afraid whatever he proves today while visiting Michael and Belle won’t determine the spot he is carving out in my heart.
***
Pleasant Ridge Park is filled with animals and their owners. Trying to find Michael and Belle might be my big feat for the day. Herbie is a champ. He walks with his head held high as though he is showing me off. I notice he isn’t trying to pull me in the directions of the other dogs or trying to sniff every pee spot in the park.
“Hi.”
I stop short and look up. Michael and Belle are standing before me. Super sleuth I am, I’ve been paying so much attention to Herbie that I almost miss my target.
“Oh! Hi Michael.” I bend down to pat Belle. “Hello Belle.” I stand up to let the two dogs acquaint themselves as dogs do.
“How do you know my name?”
I tap my tongue on my teeth trying to come up with a quick response. “Um…” Nothing is coming to mind. It’s time to fess up. “Actually, that’s a funny story. I wanted to talk to you about.”
Michael tilts his head like a curious dog. I look around to make sure cop Carl isn’t hanging around looking for Michael. There’s only a few girls crossing the street in their skimpy t-shirts and tight black stretch pants with their designer dogs. I glance down to my oversized University t-shirt with a coffee stain the size of a tennis ball, and my cut-off sweat pants with my dingy white kickers where the color has faded with time. Oh well. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m just trying to save my life.
“Maybe we can talk inside your apartment.” I know I’m taking a gamble. He might be the killer, but that’s what I’m here for. I’ll take my chance because the blue glow surrounding him is definitely not threatening.
I slip into the apartment unseen. I don’t want Carl or anyone connecting me to Michael.
“Can I get you something to drink?” He takes water out of the refrigerator and fixes a fresh bowl of water for Belle and one for Herbie. “Water? Coffee?” He points to the coffee maker. The freshly brewed coffee scent lingers in the air.
“I’ll take a cup of coffee with sugar and cream.” I can’t believe I’m going to have coffee with someone who can be a killer. Okay, again, his aura tells me no, but at some point in my life, I’ve got to be wrong.
I walk around. There is a picture of Michael and Dabi on the mantel. A picture of Belle and Dabi. Another picture, a Polaroid without a frame of Michael, Dabi and Kent.
My mind screeches to a halt. Kent? What the hell is Kent doing in this picture? His arm is loosely draped around Dabi’s shoulders. He is wearing a black tie and so is Michael. Dabi and Michael have on the same outfits as the other pictures. I pick it up to get a closer look, but hear Michael’s footsteps. Instinct kicks in and I slip it into the waistband of my shorts.
“She was beautiful.” Michael’s eyes are on the picture of him and Dabi.
“Who is she?” I ask, noticing he said “was” and not “is.”
“That’s my ex-girlfriend.”
“She is beautiful,” I say. I steady my shaking hands, put them around the mug. I pray the fear in my belly won’t show. I want to steer him away from the mantel. What if he notices there’s a picture missing? My eyes lock on a silver candleholder. The perfect weapon if my instincts and aura reading prove to be wrong and Michael comes after me. “Why are you dressed up?”
“Company function.” I take note that he doesn’t smile then he looks at the pictures. “He’s the guy they should be questioning.” Michael points to Kent, and then turns his back on the memories.
“Why?” But I really want to say, well, there’s no way in hell now. The guy is deader than a doornail. “Who is he?”
“Her ex.” Michael’s nose snarls in disgust.
Ex? Dabi and Kent? Did Kent scam Dabi out of her money?
“You look pretty chummy to me.” I try not to give a hint in my voice that I know, er, knew Kent was a piece of crap.
My thoughts go rogue. Somebody wanted Dabi and Kent dead. But who? They were lovers. Coincidence? I take a long look at Michael’s profile. He loved Dabi. She broke up with him. He hates Kent. Could Michael have killed them out of jealously? Isn’t jealously the number one reason for murder? Or is it money? I frown. CSI sure does make this look easy.
I take a step toward my weapon of choice. The tall candlestick on the coffee table looks like it could do some damage if I need to use it. “Why did you break up?” I question him because I need to make sure my “gift” is giving me the right aura and not something I can’t see. I’m not really listening because what if Kent killed Dabi and then killed himself. Why?
“Her family.” Michael takes a big gulp.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you a cop or something? First you show up in pink fuzzy slippers, and then you show up with a dog and know my name.” His eyebrows arch. “It didn’t take you guys long to suspect me. I didn’t kill her. I could never hurt her.”
“No, Michael. I’m not the police.”
“Okay, then what do you want? Why are you asking me so many questions?” There’s escalating irritation with each word.
It’s time I come clean. “I’m Jenn from Splitsville.com. The online break up service Dabi used to break up with you.”
Michael backs away. “What?” The color drains from his face and his eyes are slits.
“It’s true. I heard about Dabi and the police called me. I know you’re innocent, but. . .”
“This is sick Jenn, a…Olivia. Whatever your name is. You can leave now.” He bolts for the door. This is not the way I planned this. Actually I never planned this.
“Wait, Michael. It’s only a matter of time before the police come. They know Dabi broke up with you using Splitsville.com and you are the perfect suspect. They just don’t know your last name yet.” This means they’re either horribly terrible police officers or they’re following other leads at the moment. “If they find out you also know Kent, well, that’s not going to look good.”
His knuckles turn white on the door handle. “You know Kent?” He stands still. His aura begins to have breaks all over and sadness covers him.
“Think about it Michael.” I say. “The disgruntled ex- boyfriend did it.”
He turns with a look of death in his eyes, and an aura to match. I put my hand on the mantle to steady the spinning room.
“I didn’t do it.”
I hear Michael’s feet speeding towards me and I focus. He puts his hand on my arm. I jerk away.
I push him aside and make my way to the door, only to fall on the couch to help stop the world spinning around me.
“Are you okay?” Michael rushes past me back into the kitchen and back again. He hands me a glass of water. “Here.”
“I’m fine. Thank you.” I take the water and drink small sips. “I know
you didn’t do it Michael. But with Kent dead, too, things are not looking good for you.”
“K-Kent? H-he’s d-dead?”
Either Michael didn’t kill Kent or he’s an Oscar caliber actor. “Yes.”
“I have a few ideas, but I can’t discuss them with you right now. You need to hide yourself for a few days until I come up with something to help save me and you.”
“Olivia?” I turn after I put Herbie’s leash back on him and look at Michael. He asks, “How do you know I didn’t do it?”
“I don’t,” I say. There’s no way I am going to tell him about my “gift.” I continue, “Let’s just say innocence surrounds you.” I walk out the door and have a sudden thought. “Michael, you don’t have keys to Dabi’s apartment do you?”
He looks around his apartment darting from one drawer to the next. “I can get them. Meet me at the park tomorrow afternoon.”
That is something I can definitely do. “I’m hoping I can find some evidence to help us both out.”
I turn just before walking out the door. “Do you have a job?” Maybe his occupation has something to do with Dabi and her dad or Kent. Hell, I really just want to know.
“I’m a dog walker.” There is a grin as wide as the Mississippi across his face, “Wealthy people will pay a ton of money for their four legged creatures. That’s how I met Dabi. She hired me to walk Belle.” He bends down to pick up his precious pooch. “To bad you can’t talk to Terry.”
I turn and he’s holding Belle in the crook of his arm, the picture of him and Dabi in his hands.
“Who’s Terry?”
“Oh, Kent,” he says. “He used different names for different people. He hated to go by Terry.”
Fourteen
The entire way home I can’t get over the idea of Dabi hiring Michael as a dog walker. “No wonder her father didn’t want her to be with him.” I tell Herbie who’s sitting straight up in the passenger seat and looking at me like he knows exactly what I’m saying. “There can’t be that much money in it and Dabi’s dad, I’m sure, didn’t want his precious daughter with the ultimate pooper scooper. And when did Kent date her?”
