Trigger Yappy

by Diana Orgain

  Grunkly suddenly looked crestfallen and despite myself my stomach rumbled. “I see,” Grunkly said. “Well, he’ll be back right, Maggie?”

  “Yeah. Sure. He’s coming back.”

  “Then you should definitely go on your cruise.” Grunkly shrugged. “We’ll see him when he gets back.”

  I nodded and bit my lip. “It’s not about Gus … I…” I sighed.

  “You told me you wanted to travel. This was a perfect job for you, you said.” Grunkly looked me over seriously with his sage eyes boring into mine, challenging me. When I remained stoic, he motioned for me to continue, “Spill it,” he said.

  In one long ramble, I told him about finding Fran, about Officer Ellington, about my conversation with Max and Brenda. I told him everything before I could stop myself, even my suspicions about Rachel’s poisoning, ending with: “Don’t leave your key under the mat!”

  Grunkly closed the Sudoku puzzle book on his lap, removed his glasses and proceeded to wipe them clean with the corner of his shirt. He said nothing.

  “Well?” I asked.

  He glanced over at me, distracted. “Well what?”

  Frustration overcame me. Hadn’t he been listening at all?

  “You see now why I can’t go on the cruise?” I prompted.

  He shook his head. “Not at all. What does all that have to do with the cruise?”

  I stood. “I can’t just go off during a murder investigation. There will be questions, there’ll be—”

  “You think you can help the police? Like you did last time?”

  There it was, hitting me square in the face. Some part of me wasn’t going to let me move on until I knew what had happened to Fran.

  I shrugged. “I guess I have to help. I can’t leave it alone, Grunkly. I won’t be able to rest until I know Rachel is alright and Fran has justice.”

  Grunkly nodded. “Maggie, you’re like my favorite horse, Miss Boom Boom. Did I ever tell you about her? That little filly never gives up. If she makes the course, she’s tough.”

  I laughed. “And if she doesn’t make the course?”

  He grinned at me. “Well, then she’s like the rest of us.”

  * * *

  I polished a few glasses behind the bar as I waited for the impending hustle and bustle of Yappy Hour. After leaving Grunkly’s, I’d called my boss, Jan, over at the Soleado Cruise Line and explained that, due to a family medical emergency, I wouldn’t be able to make the orientation or the cruise. Jan took the news well and assured me that I could pick up the next cruise out of Pacific Cove next month.

  Through the front window of the bar, I saw a uniformed man make his way across the courtyard. Oh, no, not Officer Ellington again! I glanced around for a quick exit, while at the same time admonishing myself. I’d done nothing wrong. I didn’t have to hide from Ellington.

  As the man drew closer, I recognized his gait and I happily crossed the bar to unlock the door for Brad.

  As soon as the door was open, he grabbed my hands. “Maggie, I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to see you earlier. It’s been a long day. I heard from Ellington that he read you the riot act.”

  “You could say that. Come in. I’m just preparing for Yappy Hour.” Brad followed me into the bar. “Are you still on duty? Or can I pour you a draft?”

  He shook his head. “Better not. How about a Coke?”

  I nodded and filled a pint glass with soda for him.

  When I handed it to him, he asked. “Why aren’t you at the orientation?”

  I sort of gave a half grunt, stalling for time. Admitting to him that I thought I’d better stay around Pacific Cove and “help” him with his investigation wasn’t going to go over well. When I said nothing, Brad asked, “How is Rachel? It’s not serious, right?”

  “She should be released soon. I think.”

  Brad leveled a gaze at me, his eyes still silently asking why I wasn’t on the cruise ship.

  “I couldn’t leave with her in the hospital,” I said simply. “Do you think it’s all related?”

  “Rachel’s salmonella and Fran’s death?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He shook his head. “Salmonella poisoning would be a dumb way to try to kill someone. How could the murderer even get a controlled dose? Unless, they worked in a lab or something.” He shrugged. “And Fran was shot. I hardly think they’re connected.”

  “I guess I’m just worried about Rachel,” I said.

  He nodded his understanding and sipped his Coke, his blue eyes never leaving mine. “I’m sorry you are going to miss your cruise, but does it leave you free for dinner tomorrow?”

  Warmth spread through my chest. “Yes, definitely. I’d love to have dinner with you tomorrow.”

  He smiled. “Good. Now.” He pulled his notebook out of his pocket. “I know you spoke to Ellington already, but if you don’t mind, I have a few more questions for you.”

  Tension quickly replaced the warmth I’d just felt as I suddenly became alert. I blinked at him to clear away my fuzzy daydreamy thoughts of our date. “Okay, go ahead.”

  He took a seat at the bar and asked, “Where were you last night?”

  A nagging sensation filled my gut.

  What? Am I a suspect?

  When I didn’t answer, Brad said, “Don’t look at me like that, Maggie. I just need to get everything down for the report.”

  “I was here at the Wine and Bark.”

  “Fran and Yolanda were here too, right?” Brad probed.

  “Yes, they were here, so was Abigail, Brenda, Max, Geraldine, and another woman. I don’t know her name, but she didn’t like Fran much.”

  “What makes you say that?” Brad asked.

  “She said she’d strangle her if she ever saw her with Hendrick again.”

  Brad flipped through the pages of his notebook. “Hendrick is Fran’s ex, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was the woman the current girlfriend?”

  “I think so.”

  Brad tapped his pen against his notebook. “Darla. Was it Darla?”

  “I don’t know her name. Geraldine will though.” I glanced at the clock. Yappy Hour was only a few minutes away. “The crew will be here soon. Why don’t you ask her?”

  Brad nodded absently. “Maggie, why did you and Yolanda go to see Fran this morning?”

  I explained to him about Yolanda being interested in buying Chic Chickie from Fran.

  Brad held his pen in midair. “Yolanda offered to buy Fran out?”

  I nodded.

  “How did Fran react to that?” he asked.

  I swallowed back the panic building in my throat. Fran had reacting badly. She and Yolanda had fought. Fran had screamed at Yolanda that she’d hadn’t offered a fair price and then told her to forget about her chicken empire.

  But if I told Brad that, it wouldn’t reflect very well on Yolanda.

  “Uh…” I stalled. “What do you mean?”

  He squinted at me. “Did they make a deal or what? Did Fran accept the offer?”

  I picked up a rag and nervously wiped down the bar, evading his eyes. “Uh … no. No deal. That’s why we went over to the shop this morning. Yolanda wanted to try her luck again.”

  Brad was silent for a moment and finally I looked up from my busywork of cleaning the bar.

  His eyes were on me when he asked slowly, “What are you not telling me?”

  I shrugged. “It’s nothing. Nothing really. It’s just that Fran got upset. She said no to Yolanda’s offer.”

  “How serious was Yolanda about the offer?” Brad asked.

  “I don’t know. She hadn’t talked to me beforehand. I didn’t even know about it until after it happened,” I said.

  “Well, I know this: If Yolanda wants something she stops at nothing until she gets it.” He made a note in his notebook.

  I strained to see what he wrote, but he quickly closed the little book and stuffed it into his breast pocket.

  I hung the bar towel on the
hook behind the bar and tried to look nonchalant as I asked, “What was that last little thing you made a note on?”

  Brad rubbed at his temple. “I wrote down to check out Yolanda’s whereabouts last night.”

  Anxiety twisted through my belly. I hated to think of the people who frequented the bar as suspects of any kind, especially not the ones I considered friends.

  “You can’t seriously think Yolanda had anything to do with Fran’s murder. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

  Brad laughed. “She doesn’t?”

  “Well, mean maybe, but not murderous!”

  Brad shrugged and finished his soda. “Don’t get upset, Maggie. I’m just doing my job. You know that. I have to look at everything.” He reached out and grabbed my hand, gently tapping on my knuckles with his forefinger and fixing his dark blue eyes on me. “You’re not mad, right?”

  Under his sexy gaze, my bravado seemed to melt. “I’m not mad,” I said cautiously. “I just know Yolanda didn’t have anything to do with Fran’s murder.”

  Brad released my hand and stood. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  A thought struck me and I blurted out, “It was murder, wasn’t it, Brad? I mean Fran didn’t kill herself.”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t seem self-inflicted.”

  “She was shot, right? A gun. Do you know what kind?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “You know I’m not supposed to give out information, Maggie.”

  I took the empty glass from him and gave him a refill. “Well, I’m planning on going to Verdant Vines tomorrow and I’ll share whatever information—”

  “Verdant Vines? That’s Hendrick’s winery, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. He was here yesterday and the wine is—”

  Brad squared his shoulders. “You’re not intending to go there to ask him a bunch of questions about Fran, are you?”

  I squared my shoulders back at him and we did a silent little squared-off battle until I changed tactics and batted my eyelashes. “I have legitimate business with Verdant Vines. Do you want to come along for wine tasting?”

  Before Brad could answer, Yolanda popped into the bar. Her hair was styled with big soft curls that framed her face. She wore a vintage polka-dot dress that flared at the bottom, accessorized with big red earrings and high heels that featured a sexy ankle strap. But the prize accessory by far, was Beepo. He was cradled in her arms, sporting a red beret. He growled when he saw me, as if daring me to snicker at his hat.

  I remained silent, but Brad made the mistake of chuckling. Beepo launched himself into a full-fledged barking fit.

  “Maggie! What are you doing here? Did you already finish with the orientation?”

  I waved her off. “Long story.”

  “Where’s Max?” Yolanda squeaked. “I asked him to get here early! Why aren’t the tables set up?”

  I glanced around the room. “The tables are set up like they’re normally set up.”

  Yolanda released Beepo, who darted down the corridor toward the restrooms, apparently eager to be away from us to tear the ridiculous beret off his head.

  “Not like this!” Yolanda whined. “Doggie Day is coming! We can’t be normal! We have to be special! We have to be sensational! Quick, Officer Brawn”—she smacked Brad’s arm—“get to the back room and pull down the Mardi Gras boxes.”

  “Hello to you, too, Yolanda,” Brad said. Despite not liking to be told what to do, I noticed that he hopped to do her bidding. He gave me a sidelong glance as he headed to the back room and mouthed, I’m doing this for you.

  From the courtyard came the sound of a crowd approaching.

  “Everyone is right on time,” I said.

  Yolanda glanced at her wristwatch. “Well, I hope we still have a little time before the editor shows up. Everyone will just have to pitch in.”

  The door burst open with most of the usual crowd: Abigail, Brenda, Max, and all of their canine friends. As they filled the room, Beepo eagerly scampered back down the hallway to join them.

  Abigail rushed over to me. “Maggie! What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the orientation.”

  Yolanda waved her off. “Oh, she’s not going anywhere. I told you so. She can’t leave us!”

  Abigail frowned and looked to me for an explanation; at that same moment, Brad reappeared holding two large cardboard boxes. “Where do I put these?”

  Yolanda punched Max’s arm. “You! You’re late! Help him set up the décor.”

  Brad stiffened. “I’m not doing décor.”

  Max took a box from him and upturned the contents onto the table; multicolored candles, party hats, streamers, and beads tumbled out.

  Brad backed away from the decorations as the ladies took over the table, each grabbing tablecloths or garlands and getting to work. He turned to Yolanda. “May I have a word?”

  Yolanda looked alarmed. “Not now! We have work to do!”

  “I have work to do, too. I need to get your statement—”

  Abigail held up a roll of teal streamers. “This one?” She asked Yolanda.

  “Oh! Not the teal!” Yolanda said, horrified. As she rushed over to rummage through the second box, she called to Brad over her shoulder, “I’ve already spoken to Gottlieb.” With that she stuck her nose in the box and made exaggerated noises about the items inside. The squeals and gasps erupting from her seemed to alternate between good and bad.

  Brad seemed about to protest, but realized that, while Yolanda was absorbed with the task of decorating, he wouldn’t be able to tear her away.

  I leaned in close to him. “I think we can let you off the hook now that you carried in those heavy boxes for us.” Then into his ear, I whispered, “You big hunk of man, you.”

  He laughed despite himself and said, “I know it’s about to get crazy in here, so I’ll let you whip up the Mutt-tinis and party. Don’t forget about dinner tomorrow.”

  “I won’t.”

  As I walked him to the door, he put a hand on my shoulder and suddenly his expression was serious. “Maggie, about Verdant Vines, please give us a chance to look into a few things first. Don’t go up there tomorrow. It could be dangerous.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Where’s Geraldine?” I asked, smoothing down the teal tablecloth as Abigail placed a candle in the center of the table.

  “She didn’t want to come out tonight. She’s terribly upset about Fran,” Abigail said.

  “I can understand that. Were they very close?”

  Abigail lit the candle. “Yeah. As much as other people couldn’t stand Fran, Geraldine always defended her. But, you know, Geraldine can be a bit difficult, too, so I guess they had that in common.”

  Max found his way behind the bar and the sound of a blender interrupted us as he called out, “Show of hands for Muttgaritas.”

  While Max took a silent count, I said to Abigail, “I met your cousin today. He was at the hospital visiting Rachel. He brought her flowers.”

  “Isn’t he so sweet! He’s got a mad crush on her.”

  “Abigail, I know this is a weird question and don’t take it the wrong way, but do you know where Ronnie was last night?”

  She frowned. “Last night? I don’t really know. At the farm, I suppose. He didn’t used to come into town much. Although, ever since I introduced him to Rachel a couple of weeks ago, I think he’s been in town every day.”

  It was curious. Rachel hadn’t mentioned him to me at all, but sometimes she was secretive about who she dated.

  Abigail fidgeted with the tablecloth. “You don’t think Ronnie is the reason she’s in the hospital, do you? He’s got really high standards for his chickens—”

  “Abigail!” Yolanda barked. “Do you have the Howling Hounds on speed dial? We need to liven this place up ASAP!”

  My breath caught. “Not the Howling Hounds,” I said. The last time they’d played at the bar had been a fiasco.

  Yolanda sashayed over to us and patted my arm. “Do
n’t worry, Maggie, Bishop is in charge now. There won’t be any trouble.”

  Abigail obediently pulled out her cell phone and dialed the guitar player. She began to chat amicably to him. I turned to Yolanda. “What happened with Gottlieb today?”

  Yolanda glanced around to make sure no one was listening. She nodded discreetly and then motioned me to the restroom. We walked down the corridor past the framed photos of Gidget (the Taco Bell Chihuahua) and Rin Tin Tin. Yolanda pushed open the door to the ladies’ room and ushered me in.

  “Pinkie-promise secrecy, right?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “You can’t even tell Officer McHottie, or Sergeant Gottlieb will never ever ever tell me anything again.”

  I nodded.

  Suddenly from outside the door, Beepo whined.

  Yolanda opened the door to let him and double-checked the corridor. “Okay, here’s what I know. Ellington had a mad crush on Fran—”

  “Yeah.”

  “You knew?” Yolanda looked disappointed.

  “Sort of. Ellington mentioned she was a friend and then Brenda told me he’d asked her out.”

  Yolanda turned toward the sink and ran the tap water. “She was killed by a Beretta handgun. The technicians were able to pick up a man’s footprint in the blood, size twelve, workman-style boots.”

  “Are you sure? Gottlieb told you this?”

  Yolanda pursed her lips. “I snuck a peek at his file while he took a phone call.”

  There was a sharp rap on the bathroom door and Abigail peeked in. “I wondered where you both made off to. Howling Hounds are on their way. Max is setting up the sound system for them now and, other than that, I think we’re ready.”

  Yolanda and I slipped out of the restroom and followed Abigail into the main bar area. In a short time, the Roundup Crew had transformed the Wine and Bark into a magical place. The tables were festive with multicolored Mardi Gras beads strewn about, and the candle centerpieces gave the room a warm, cozy glow.

  “It looks fabulous!” I said.

  A crowd was starting to gather around the bar, so I hustled over to serve drinks. Soon, Max appeared by side.

  “Sound system is ready to go. I heard the band will be here soon,” Max said.