11 Hanging by a Hair

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Minnetti exchanged a glance with Langley, who’d been scanning the living room with an eagle eye while the two of them talked. “No, thank you. Please continue.”

  “The next morning, we found a plastic bag of dog poop on our driveway.”

  “Is that right?” Minnetti arched a penciled eyebrow.

  “We thought Alan might be the culprit, but we just disposed of the bag and let it go.”

  “Which day was this?”

  “Friday. I didn’t see our neighbor again until Monday morning, when I heard a banging noise next door. At first, I thought construction must have resumed on the underground propane tank he’s putting in to run a standby generator. But when I looked out the window, I saw a couple of workmen putting up a fence next door between our properties.”

  Langley’s brow creased. “Wasn’t that per the rule to hide his boat from view?”

  “Yes, except that he hadn’t done a survey or gotten a permit. Those men were constructing the fence on our land.”

  “How did you know that?” He brushed a piece of imaginary lint off his trousers.

  Marla sat forward as their neighbor’s affront riled her again. “We’d done a survey. I went outside to talk to the handymen. They didn’t have a visible tag on their truck. That should have raised my suspicions.”

  “About what?” Minnetti took over the conversation again.

  “Illegal work being done.”

  “So you went out alone to confront them?”

  “That’s right.” She jumped up, her nerves crawling. “I need a cup of coffee. Are you sure I can’t get you something? A glass of water, perhaps?”

  “No, we’re good.” Minnetti replied for both.

  In the kitchen, Marla drew in a shaky breath. She was so afraid she might say something that would cast blame on Dalton. But he’d advised her to tell the truth, and that’s what she would do. He could deal with the fallout.

  The dogs roused from their slumber at her arrival and nudged her for attention. Stroking the fur on the golden retriever, she willed herself to remain calm. The detectives were probably hoping she’d get rattled.

  Spooks didn’t like being left out. The poodle poked her leg with his wet nose. After giving Lucky a final pat, she grabbed Spooks up in her arms and gave him a quick, comforting squeeze before putting him down. No way would she let anyone harm their “daddy.” She’d make these people see that Dalton had nothing to hide.

  After giving each dog a biscuit for good behavior, she poured herself a mug of coffee, added sugar and cream, and returned to the living room. Both detectives had risen and were roaming around, peering at the objects on display. At Marla’s appearance, they resumed their seats.

  “Where was Lieutenant Vail when you went outside on Monday morning?” Minnetti said, eyeing Marla’s coffee mug with an impassive expression.

  The woman likely would have enjoyed a beverage but wouldn’t indulge while on duty. Marla’s gaze narrowed as she pondered the reason for her rigid self-control and cool demeanor. Dalton had said he couldn’t read her, and Marla agreed. The woman would be a tough nut to crack, but Marla liked challenges when it came to psyching people out.

  “Dalton had already left for work, and Brianna was in school.”

  “Oh yes, that’s his daughter? How old is she?”

  Lord save me, you’re not going to question the girl, are you?

  “She’ll be fifteen later this month. Look, leave her out of this, okay? It’s bad enough that her father was removed from the case. His colleagues should know better. Dalton is the most honest, diligent, and devoted cop I know. He wants to get to the bottom of this more than anyone, especially because he knew the victim. It’s frustrating him that he can’t be involved.”

  Silence greeted her tirade. Marla plunked her mug down on the coffee table, dismayed by her outburst. But then the lady detective’s face softened and a smile played about her mouth. It transformed her features and made her look more approachable.

  “Listen, Marla, we’re just doing our job. Your husband may have a sterling reputation, but there have been complaints about him. It’s our duty to investigate. No one is making judgments here. If it were me involved, the protocol would be the same.”

  Marla clasped her hands together. “I’m sorry. I hate to see him troubled.”

  “You’re newlyweds, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, we got married in December, a second marriage for both of us.”

  “Tell me, did you realize he had a temper before you wed him?”

  “Excuse me?” Marla did a double take. Is she trying to throw me off guard? If so, that won’t work with me. A little sugar won’t change my tune. “Normally, Dalton is very calm in stressful situations. I don’t know where you’re going with this.” She spoke stiffly, insulted by the woman’s suggestive tone.

  “So you confronted the workmen by yourself, and then what?”

  “Mr. Krabber heard us arguing, and he came outside. I asked if he had done a survey or applied for a permit. The fence wasn’t the only issue. He’d put a stone path around the side of the house, and it crossed our boundary. And he was planning to plant ficus trees by the property line. You know how far those roots grow. They could crack open our sprinkler pipes.”

  Marla’s voice rose in pitch. How could the detectives not sympathize with her plight? Those were blatant code violations. Nonetheless, the neighbor was dead, and she and Dalton might have been the last ones to see him alive.

  Detective Langley, who’d been content to let his partner ask the questions, said, “How did Mr. Krabber respond to your comments?”

  “He didn’t take me seriously, so I called Dalton. Sometimes a man can be more forceful.”

  Oops. Those words had slipped from her mouth. She hoped the detective didn’t take them the wrong way.

  Detective Minnetti riffled through her notes. “I understand a heated discussion ensued between your husband and Mr. Krabber. And that’s when your husband said, ‘I won’t stand idly by while you make an exception of yourself. No matter what it takes, I’ll see that you comply.’ He didn’t mean that he would make the problem disappear, did he? And Alan Krabber along with it?”

  Marla, midway to picking up her mug, sloshed coffee on her jeans.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  * * *

  Marla snapped the leashes onto the dogs’ collars as soon as she was free. Her fingers trembling, it took several tries before she got the job done. She grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter and stumbled after the pets in their race to the front door.

  No wonder Dalton had been so touchy of late. After meeting his new partner, Marla could sympathize with him. Minnetti appeared competent at her job, but where was her compassion? What had happened to make her so stern? Intuition told Marla it went beyond the horrors she witnessed in her daily job or her attempts to be objective on this case.

  Her curiosity aroused, she resolved to get to know the woman.

  The balmy air and warm sunshine worked their magic as she strolled along the sidewalk. Her limbs relaxed, her movements becoming more fluid as she let the dogs take the lead. Her gaze darted to the neighboring homes. Were the housewives watching her now through parted curtains, wondering if her husband had been implicated in Krabber’s death?

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t learned any more details about the case. Had Krabber hanged himself or not? Did the evidence indicate otherwise, as Dalton suspected?

  Minnetti had asked if Dalton had been home that entire evening. Marla said that as far as she knew, he’d been beside her in bed all night. Had the police woman known she’d been fudging the truth? Should she have said that when she’d awakened in the middle of the night, his side of the bed was empty?

  Marla assumed Dalton couldn’t sleep and had gone into the family room to watch TV. He did that often in the midst of a case, when pieces of the puzzle jumbled in his head. He’d go back to sleep after an hour or so, and sometimes she’d have to rouse him in the morning. She knew her husban
d was no murderer, but that would have given him time to go next door.

  Wait a minute. They’d turned the alarm on. That would exonerate him. The alarm company could prove he hadn’t cracked their perimeter.

  Her breath huffed with excitement as she waited by a bougainvillea bush for the pets to complete their business. Lost in thought, she loosened her grip and Spooks dashed forward. The leash ripped from her hand as the cream-colored poodle charged down the street. Lucky surged after him, but Marla yanked on the restraint to hold the bigger dog back.

  Meanwhile, Spooks raced in circles in the middle of the road and then plunged toward Krabber’s yard.

  “Spooks, come here! I’ll give you a treat!”

  She spared a moment to unlock her front door and nudge Lucky inside.

  With one dog secured, she turned and sprinted toward the side of the house where she’d seen Spooks vanish. His furious barking shattered the still air. That excited woof could only mean he’d found a squirrel or something more interesting. As she headed around the corner, she prayed for an easy capture. All she needed was for the neighbors to see her trespassing onto Krabber’s property.

  The dog’s sudden silence raised goose bumps on her flesh.

  “Spooks, where are you?” Arriving at Krabber’s backyard, she halted. Spooks was nowhere in sight. Where could he have gone?

  At the far edge of the lawn was a chain link fence marking the border between Krabber’s land and the rear neighbor’s plot, whose house faced another road. Pots of ficus trees were still lined up by the side border, ready for planting. And a big hole, surrounded by mounds of dirt, gaped in the center of the yard.

  Her pet couldn’t have squeezed beneath the fence, could he? Watching from the kitchen window, she’d seen a stray cat pass through it, into her own yard. Spooks could even now be prowling around on the next street over.

  Or not. A faint whimper drew her attention. It sounded close by.

  Small holes dotted the yard. Maybe the construction had disturbed a creature’s underground habitat. A large snake might live there.

  Dread weighted her stomach. Did snakes eat small pets? They weren’t near a canal where she had to worry about gators. The only place she hadn’t looked was in that huge pit. Obviously, Krabber no longer had need of a standby generator. Someone would have to petition his heir to fill in the hole.

  She advanced cautiously. Wary of getting too close to an edge that might crumple, she peered down and swallowed convulsively.

  Oh, God.

  Spooks lay immobile on the bottom.

  “Spooks, get up! Do you hear me?”

  Moisture blinded her, and her heart pounded in her chest. Now what? She had to get him out and rush him to the vet.

  The hole was too deep for her to climb down. She needed a ladder, but no way could she bring the huge one from her garage. It was too heavy for her to lift, let alone transport. Who should she call for help?

  She didn’t want to bother Dalton, not with the problems he had at work. Fire rescue? She bit back a sob. If she still lived in her townhouse, her neighbor Goat would be there in an instant. She missed the dog groomer now more than anything.

  Her fingers fumbled for the cell phone she’d stuck in her pocket. She’d have to call the rescue squad. Her ignominy in Royal Oaks would increase, but what else could she do?

  She went out front to await them in case anyone had been observing her flight into Krabber’s backyard. Heaven forbid the lady across the street should accuse her of snooping on his property . . . or of attempting to cover up her husband’s potential crime.

  How would they ever earn anyone’s trust in this community?

  She paced back and forth, her sandals beating upon the rust-stained cement. The minutes ticked by until a red truck turned the corner. They hadn’t put the siren on, for which she was grateful. Marla waved to the occupants, and the vehicle screeched to a halt at the curb. Several guys emerged, hunky fellows in jumpsuits.

  “I’m sorry to bring you out for this, but my dog fell down a hole in our neighbor’s backyard.” She hoped they wouldn’t notice the crime scene tape stretched across his front door, and that they weren’t the same responders who’d come the day Krabber died.

  “What kind of hole, ma’am?”

  “It’s meant for a propane tank to fuel a standby generator. Follow me.”

  Hastening toward the rear, she heard the thuds of their booted footsteps. She reached her goal and stared down at Spooks, her heart in her throat. He could be bleeding internally from his injuries. Would she be too late in taking him to the vet?

  The rescue team retrieved a ladder. With several men, they made the job look easy as they carried their equipment into the backyard and set it into place. A muscular guy climbed down and scooped the still animal into his arms.

  Marla accepted the limp dog with a murmur of appreciation. Her throat choked with tears. She blinked rapidly, refusing to break down.

  Spooks twitched as though asleep, and his chest moved. Marla’s spirits lifted. He was alive! The only injury she noted was a splotch of blood on his head.

  “Is the homeowner in, ma’am? It would be wise for him to put up a temporary barrier until this hole is covered over,” the same man asked. His name tag read Kevin Jones.

  “I know, but he, uh, isn’t available. He died a few days ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is there a relative to contact, maybe?”

  “His nephew is likely responsible.” Marla walked alongside the EMT toward the front, eager to get to her car and dash off to the animal hospital. While she’d been waiting for the rescue team, she’d notified the vet’s office that she’d be coming in with Spooks.

  “We’ll see if we can contact him and get something done so this doesn’t happen again.”

  “Thanks, that would be wonderful. My dog got loose and ran back here. If he . . . if he survives, I’ll be careful to keep him tightly on the leash hereafter.”

  After providing her phone number and pointing out her house in case the fellow had further questions, she charged to her garage. Tenderly, she placed Spooks inside her car. Then she took a few precious minutes to unleash Lucky and grab her purse. Fifteen minutes later found her inside the waiting room at the veterinarian. She texted Dalton, not wishing to disrupt his workday but wanting to update him.

  She gulped past a lump in her throat. After their recent troubles, she couldn’t bear to lose Spooks. He was her constant in this crazy universe. Wishing she’d never moved from her townhouse, she reminded herself of her loving family. They were the reason she’d taken this leap in life. She’d have to make the best of it.

  “Mrs. Vail?” A tech signaled to her from the entrance to the inner sanctum.

  Marla scurried over and followed the girl into a private treatment room that smelled like disinfectant. She stared at the linoleum floor, her pulse racing, until the inner door opened.

  Dr. Nelson strode inside, a pleasant woman with a sympathetic smile and hair a shade darker than Marla’s chestnut brown. She wore a white lab coat with a couple of pens sticking from her chest pocket.

  “Good news. Spooks has a concussion, but he is awake and moving all limbs. He has some bruising from the fall but no evidence of internal bleeding. I’d like to keep him overnight for observation, and then you can come by tomorrow to take him home.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Marla’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you so much. I was afraid—”

  “I know.” The doctor smiled. “He’s a lucky pooch. We’ll take good care of him, Mrs. Vail. Don’t you worry.”

  Her brow aching, Marla retreated to her car. She’d pay the bill tomorrow when she picked Spooks up.

  The rest of her day loomed lonely and bleak. Should she go into the salon? No, today was her day off. Surely she could find something else to do to lift her mood. Call her mother? Nope, that would irritate her more than anything. Dial a friend?

  She opted for that choice. “Tally? Do you want to meet for coff
ee? I need some company, and we haven’t caught up with each other in a while.”

  “Sure, Marla. It’s quiet in the store, so Angela should be able to handle things for an hour or so. It would be nice to see you.” Tally owned the Dress to Kill boutique. Pregnant for several months now, she hadn’t cut back on her hours despite her husband’s insistence.

  Sitting in the coffee shop on a cushioned chair, Marla related everything that had happened since the homeowners’ meeting. Upon her conclusion, Marla glanced at her cell phone in case she’d missed a call from the vet.

  “Holy smokes, Marla.” Tally, a lithe blond, brushed her hair back from her forehead. “I hope Spooks will be okay.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You don’t think someone else was in the backyard, do you?”

  Gripping her ceramic mug, Marla leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you heard him barking, right? Maybe he was barking at someone rather than another animal.”

  Marla stared wide-eyed at her friend. “You’re a genius. I would never have thought of that! If you’re right, this person might not have wanted to be seen, and so he tossed poor Spooks in the pit to shut him up.”

  “He would have heard you calling for the dog. You said no one was there when you arrived. The intruder could have run around the other side of the house to get away.”

  “But why would anyone loiter in Krabber’s backyard?”

  “Why would anyone want him dead, if he didn’t hang himself?”

  “Good point.” Too many questions plagued her. Damn, she wished Dalton would provide details. She said so aloud.

  Tally’s eyes glistened with sympathy. “He’s not supposed to be involved, remember?”

  “He is involved by virtue of Alan being our neighbor. And Tally—” her gaze darted around the room, making sure no one was within hearing range—“Dalton did get up in the middle of the night. I mean, the night before Alan’s body was discovered.”

  “Come on, he’s not guilty. No matter how annoyed he was by the guy, Dalton isn’t a murderer. What’s gotten into you?”