Trigger Yappy

by Diana Orgain

  “That’s no sweat. You like saltimbocca? I’ll make that for you and Grunkly when I get back.”

  Before I could answer, Gus said, “Ugh. Sorry, Maggie. They’re calling us into hair and makeup now.”

  I giggled. “You’re wearing makeup now?”

  He chuckled. “Only because they make me, and I want to win this thing. Think about what I told you, okay?”

  “I will,” I said as we hung up.

  * * *

  After shopping for myself, with the bit of extra time on my hands, I decided to head over to the Wine and Bark. The bar almost looked like its old self again. The couch and TV were gone, as were the area rugs. Even the curtains we’d borrowed from Chic Chickie were curiously missing.

  When I arrived, Rachel and Yolanda were in deep discussion with Vrishali, while a bearded man walked around installing lights. Presumably, he was the photographer. Rachel and Yolanda both wiggled their fingers at me in greeting, but after that more or less ignored me.

  I paced around avoiding the photographer and tried not to think about the call I’d had with Brad.

  Had there been a development in the case? He hadn’t given me a straight answer. My gut told me Hendrick wasn’t a murderer, but if not Hendrick then who?

  It seemed like Brenda might have some answers, so I headed over to Bradford and Blahnik, pondering how I could ask her about the gun I’d found while snooping around in her office.

  Is she holding on to it for a client?

  Was it hers? Did she keep it there for protection?

  When I arrived at the storefront, I browsed the window display. There were several new pairs of sandals, flats, and boots on display. One pair of low-cut blue suede boots caught my eye.

  They were breathtaking.

  I’d have to ask Brenda if she had them in my size. I pushed open the front door and scanned the room. She was nowhere in sight.

  “Brenda?” I called out.

  There was a rustling sound from the back room, followed by hushed voices.

  Brenda appeared from the back. “Maggie, I wasn’t expecting you. Is there something I can help you with?” she asked.

  “I love the new display. I was hoping maybe you have those boots in my size.”

  Brenda shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Oh, I can check. But, right now I’m with a client.”

  Max appeared from the back room, waving cheerfully. “Hey, Maggie.”

  Brenda looked annoyed. He turned to her. “I can entertain Maggie for a few minutes if you want to finish up with Hendrick,” he said.

  Brenda frowned and looked distracted.

  Max shuffled his feet and looked chagrinned. “Oh. Was I not supposed to say anything?”

  Hendrick suddenly appeared from the back. He was red-faced and had dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in a week. His clothes were rumpled and he had aged tremendously since the last time I saw him. In short, he looked grief stricken.

  My heart ached for him.

  Hendrick wailed, “I’m being framed. I know it. This has been the worst week of my life. First, someone murders Fran, then Darla. And the next thing I know, the police are arresting me. My life is over!” He collapsed to his knees.

  “Now, now,” Brenda said reassuringly, taking hold of one arm.

  Max grabbed his other arm and together they shuffled him over to one of the leather couches clients usually sat on while trying on designer shoes. “We’ve talked about this,” Brenda said. “We mustn’t lose hope.”

  She motioned something to Max, who seemed to understand, because he immediately moved toward the front door and flipped the open sign to closed, then drew the front drapes.

  “I can recommend a criminal defense attorney,” Brenda said. “He’s relatively local. He has an office in Monterey.”

  Hendrick grimaced. “Criminal defense! I’m not a criminal.”

  Seeing him protest so furiously, suddenly made me realize why Brenda had a gun in her office. It had to be for self-defense. If Hendrick was a killer, he could easily go off the deep end—and if she’d been alone with him it could have turned dangerous.

  Brenda said, “We’re going to do what we can to find out who’s behind all this.” She used a patient tone that made everyone in the room focus.

  “I was with Darla the night that Fran was killed,” Hendrick said. “When they killed Darla, too, they killed my alibi. It’s a setup.”

  “Why do you think someone would want to frame you?” Brenda asked.

  Hendrick shrugged. “I think I seem like an easy target. I inherited all of Fran’s property. The police had me down as a person of interest after Fran’s murder because they found it suspicious that she never took me off as a beneficiary.” He looked around the room as if searching for solace. Max put a hand on his shoulder, which made Hendrick nod and say, “But we’d been together a long time, and frankly, I hadn’t taken her off as my beneficiary, either.”

  “What about Darla?” Brenda asked.

  Hendrick’s face looked pained. “She was always jealous of Fran. In fact, I’m ashamed to admit that I considered she might’ve hurt Fran in the first place.”

  “That’s not possible,” Max said. “Because somebody killed Darla, right? I mean, it wasn’t suicide.”

  Distress flickered through Hendrick eyes. “She didn’t kill herself. She would have never done that. We were going to be married. She was excited. Happy. And I realize now she could have never hurt Fran. I know that. Though, we did have an awful fight about it.”

  “You fought about it?” I asked.

  Hendrick pressed his hands to his forehead in anguish and let out a sorrowful moan.

  “Why would you fight about it?” I pressed. “There was no way she could have killed Fran because she was with you that night, correct?” I squinting at him. “She was your alibi…”

  Hendrick gave an overexaggerated, unconvincing nod. “I know. I wasn’t thinking, I was emotional. I can’t explain it. It’s just that I know I’m being framed. Whoever killed Fran knew that I stood to inherit everything. Someone is after me.”

  “Or the property,” I said.

  Everyone turned to me. “What?” Brenda asked.

  “Fran wanted to evict Kitty Corner, right?” I said.

  Brenda glanced toward Hendrick and waited for him to reply.

  He shifted nervously and frowned. “What do you mean? The property on Magnolia Street? Yes, Fran wanted to move Chic Chickie to that location. She thought there was more foot traffic there. She bought the building…”

  “I know. The business owner, Lois, is frantic. She’s wondering if you’re going to evict her now that Fran’s gone.”

  Brenda folded her arms and scowled at me. “Maggie, I hardly think this is the time to negotiate a deal for Lois.”

  “I’m not negotiating for Lois,” I protested. “What I’m saying is: She is desperate to keep the lease.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged,” Hendrick said.

  Max gasped, then nodded sagely. “I get it! You think Lois killed Fran in order to keep renting the space for her business.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Brenda pounded a hand onto the counter, sending a display of trouser socks careening to the floor. “Lois didn’t kill Fran!”

  Max scrambled to pick up the display.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked. “What makes you so sure?”

  Brenda took great interest in the sock display, putting it back together with Max’s help. Hendrick and I waited until Brenda shrugged and said, “She’s just not the type.”

  Hendrick sprang up off the couch. “And I am?” he said.

  Brenda mumbled something that sounded like, “If the shoe fits.”

  Max moved to stand in front of Brenda, blocking my view of her. It was a protective move, I realized, as he’d positioned himself between Hendrick and Brenda.

  “What was that?” Hendrick demanded.

  “She said she’
s going to get that referral for you,” Max said.

  Hendrick sagged back onto the couch and Brenda disappeared into the back room. I wanted to tell Max about the jewel I’d found at Chic Chickie, but refrained from saying it in front of Hendrick. Instead, I asked, “Hendrick, why would Darla break into my house?”

  Hendrick looked at me, a puzzled expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

  “Yolanda and I were followed the other day, by a dark van. I was pretty sure Darla was driving it. Then my apartment was broken into. My journal—”

  Max cleared his throat interrupting me.

  I glanced over at him and he gave me a definite don’t-go-there warning with a firm shake of his head.

  He was right. It probably wouldn’t be smart to mention I had tampered with evidence at Hendrick’s house. Instead, I said, “The intruder left me a note.”

  Hendrick sat up straighter. “What kind of note?”

  “It said: ‘Stop asking questions or you’ll end up like Fran.’”

  “I don’t understand. Why do you think it was Darla that left the note?”

  Max glared at me, another warning wafting my way. This time I ignored it. “She took something from my apartment and I saw it at the vineyard.”

  Hendrick grumbled. “The killer must have planted it. Just like they planted the gun.”

  Brenda emerged from the back room. “Alright, Hendrick, I found an attorney who can help you.” She handed him a business card.

  Hendrick slumped back on the couch and sighed.

  * * *

  Once Hendrick left, I told Max and Brenda about the jewel I’d found at Chic Chickie.

  “I’m glad you didn’t say anything to Hendrick about that,” Brenda said. “Lois is my client, you know.”

  “Well, if she’s guilty of murder—”

  Max held up a hand. “I think we’re in over our heads here. You should take the jewel, along with your journal, and give them to the police.”

  Brenda looked alarmed. “Your journal?” I opened my mouth to speak but Brenda clapped both hands over her ears. “Lalalalala!” she shouted. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  Max laughed.

  With her hands still covering her ears, Brenda yelled, “Did you want me to check to see if I have those boots in your size?”

  I nodded and she disappeared into the stockroom.

  “Seriously, you need to take all the evidence to Brad,” Max said.

  I sighed. There was no way I wanted to confess about taking my journal back from the scene of the crime, but what choice did I have? It could help Brad take down a killer.

  “He canceled lunch plans with me. I thought maybe there was a new development in the case and that’s why he canceled.”

  Max shrugged. “Maybe. I hope so. I don’t think Hendrick did it.”

  Anxiety squeezed at the base of my neck. I didn’t necessarily think Hendrick was guilty, either; but could Lois really have murdered two people over a store that hadn’t opened yet?

  It felt like a stretch, but who really knew what motivated people to kill?

  Brenda reappeared with a shoebox in her hand. I sat on the couch Hendrick had just vacated and tried on the boots. They felt like they hugged my feet and I found myself relaxing. I suppose nothing quells stress better than retail therapy.

  * * *

  At home, I paced around in my new boots waiting for Brad to call. I’d left him several messages, but had yet to hear back from him.

  When the phone finally buzzed, I dove for it.

  Yolanda’s voice filled the line. “Sugar. Where are you? We’re all at Yappy Hour and you’re not.”

  “I’m waiting around for Brad to call me,” I whined.

  “You can wait for him to call while you down a couple of Mutt-tinis. Doggie Day took some great photos this afternoon. I think we definitely scored the cover. Come down and celebrate with us.”

  “Alright. But before you hang up, have you spoken to Gottlieb today?”

  “No, why?”

  “I just want to know if there have been any developments on the case,” I said.

  “What do you mean? I thought Hendrick did it,” Yolanda said.

  Pacing around my apartment, I said, “I ran into him over at Bradford and Blahnik. He says he’s been framed—”

  “Of course he says that!” Yolanda shrieked. “You didn’t think he was going to come out and confess, did you?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t expected to believe him. He’s grief stricken.”

  “Pfft,” Yolanda said. “It’s all an act. Come down to the Wine and Bark and let’s talk. Cornelia is here. I think she’s hot with Ellington right now. You can ask her if she knows anything.”

  * * *

  On my way down to the Wine and Bark, I took a small detour to Magnolia Street. I couldn’t stop myself from walking over and peeking in again at Kitty Corner.

  There was a tuxedo kitten sharpening her claws on one of the posts in the window. She wore a pink diamante collar.

  Not a match.

  I peered into the window, to search out more kittens. Then something unexpected caught my eye. On the far side wall were shelves of cat carriers, strollers, slings, beds, collars, toys, posts, and clothes. Lots of items sparkled, and I strained to get a better look.

  I had to get inside.

  The grand opening was still a few days away, but surely Lois would be on-site tomorrow toiling. I’d come back in the morning and examine every single jewel that sparkled until I had a match.

  Turning to walk the rest of the way to the Wine and Bark, I spotted a familiar face across the street. Brad was inside an unmarked sedan. But instead of waving at me, he lowered the car shade and seemed to try to hide.

  What is he doing here?

  Next to him in the passenger seat was another man.

  Ellington.

  Officer Ellington sat with a hand pressed to his ear, as if listening to some kind of headset.

  Oh goodness!

  They are on a stakeout.

  Did they have a bug or a wiretap or something in Kitty Corner, so they could monitor Lois?

  I frantically glanced over my shoulder, obsessing over the fact that I’d just interrupted official police business. I tried to hide myself by pressing against the glass of the Kitty Corner window display.

  It was ludicrous! I felt so foolish I wanted to shrink right into the earth, finally I just turned and hustled toward the Wine and Bark.

  When I arrived, I yanked open the door to the bar and bumped into Yolanda.

  “Maggie,” she said. “I was about to send out a search party!”

  “Well, I did sort of interrupt one,” I said, laughing as she pulled me up to the bar. Rachel was behind the counter, mixing up a pitcher of Salty Dogs. The Roundup Crew was piled around several cocktail tables that had been squeezed together, while the dogs tore around chasing each other.

  “It’s nice to have the place back to normal,” I said.

  “Well, we completed the photo shoot. We’ll have to keep our fingers crossed that we get the cover, but right now our work is done.” Everyone raised their glasses and cheered.

  “We have to get the curtains back before they’re ruined,” Cornelia said.

  I turned to her. “We can take them back tomorrow.” I glanced around the room. “Where are they?” I asked.

  Rachel made a face. “We had to move them to the back room. I’m so sorry,” she said to Cornelia.

  When Cornelia didn’t respond, Rachel poured her a glass of wine. “But don’t worry. Yolanda and I took great care to lay them out right. I’m sure they’re fine. Thank you so much for lending the curtains to us.”

  Cornelia winked at Rachel. “It was my pleasure. I need them back because I’m hoping to reopen the shop.”

  I nearly spit out my cocktail. “You’re going to reopen Chic Chickie?”

  She nodded excitedly. “Now that Hendrick’s been arrested for murder, I called Fran’s brot
her in Michigan. He gave me permission to reopen.”

  My mind reeled. I glanced over at Brenda and Max, but they were caught up in another conversation across the room.

  “Hendrick was released,” I said.

  Several emotions crossed Cornelia’s face: incredulity, shock, dismay, then alarm. “What do you mean, he’s been released?”

  I shrugged. “I thought you might know. Has Officer Ellington told you anything about the investigation?”

  Like the fact that he’s on a stakeout right now with Brad.

  “No,” Cornelia said. “I can’t believe it. It must be some sort of mistake!”

  “I guess they don’t have enough evidence,” I said.

  “They have the gun! Ellington told me as much,” Cornelia said.

  Then why would the police be staked out in front of Kitty Corner? They had to think Lois was the one. Yes, I could feel it in my bones. Lois was guilty.

  Next to me, Yolanda shrugged. “Do you think if Hendrick’s not in jail, he won’t let you run Chic Chickie?”

  Cornelia bristled. “I don’t know what to think.” She pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed. “I only just negotiated everything with Fran’s brother. Now I’ll have to talk to Hendrick. And what if…” Her voice trailed off.

  Rachel dumped a bucket of ice into the ice well. “What if he’s a murderer? You can’t negotiate with a murderer.”

  Cornelia slid her empty cocktail glass closer to Rachel.

  Rachel refilled it and sighed. “I know it’s tough, honey. Everyone wants their business to be successful, but you can’t take unnecessary chances.”

  “It’s not Hendrick. He didn’t do it,” I said.

  Cornelia gave me a sidelong glance. “What makes you say that?”

  I thought about Brad begging me to stop probing at the investigation and my reply died on my lips.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  It was a restless night. I dreamt about Brad and Ellington’s stakeout, only, in my dream, I ran over and banged on the car window, screaming for them to let me in on the action. Obviously, I had too much time on my hands!

  In the morning, I busied myself with calling my supervisor, Jan, over at Soleado Cruise Line, to inquire when the next cruise was leaving. Unfortunately, my call went straight to her voice mail. So I cleaned the house, took out the garbage, paid bills, and did laundry—all in the name of not thinking about what Brad and Ellington could have been doing parked in front of Kitty Corner.