Paw wagged his tail and woofed his agreement, sitting down patiently by Alma’s feet as Harry ushered us out of the house.
Chapter 14
As Bruce and I neared Harriet’s Café, I reflected that Alma was very wise. She may have wanted Paw to help her at the thrift store, but she knew that if we took Paw with us, the Davises may not have been too happy to have my big, brawny St. Bernard drooling while they were eating, even though Laura Davis had seemed to adore Paw. Harriet allowed pets in her Café for she had a special code permission for allowing pets in her eatery. She wasn’t the only one in town, and fortunately our town Council consisted of animal lovers.
Bruce and I passed the front window of the eatery, and I saw the Davises sitting at the table in the window, empty plates in front of them. Bruce reached across me and pulled open the door to the Café, ushering me in. Delicious smells of sugar, cinnamon, and fresh-baked bread wafted to me, as I stepped inside. Harriet waved from behind the counter. She was ringing up a customer. The Café was half full at this time of day and Bruce jerked his head toward a table next to the young couple we wanted to speak to.
I motioned to Harriet that we were staying to eat.
She nodded and turned to ring up the next customer in line.
I debated how to approach the Davises as I neared their table. I had met them at the fair, but after the young man’s outburst at the lawyers, I wasn’t sure he would be willing to talk to me. I halted by their table, turned, smiled at the woman, and said, “Hello again. We met at the fair.” I extended my hand.
She widened her eyes, perhaps startled because I had approached her from behind. Her gaze focused on me a moment and then she smiled. “Yes, we did. You have that adorable St. Bernard. What was his name again?”
“Paw.” I reflected that maybe I should have brought Paw with us.
“Of course. He’s such a sweetie.” She gestured to her husband. “You remember my husband, Sam, right?”
Sam stood up and extended his hand. “I’m sure she does, sweetheart. I made a scene at the reading of the will.”
“You were there?” The young woman shifted her gaze past my right shoulder, and I realized she was looking at Bruce.
I motioned toward him. “This is my boyfriend, Bruce Sever.”
Sam extended his hand to Bruce who shook it in a firm grip.
Laura gestured to the two empty chairs at their table. “Join us.”
I glanced at Sam, who frowned, but quickly covered it when he saw me looking at him.
Bruce pulled out the chair nearest to us for me to sit then took the chair opposite me. “How do you like our little town?”
Laura grinned as she stacked their empty plates and tidied the table. “It is lovely. Sam and I have even discussed moving here. How long have you both lived here?”
Harriet appeared at my elbow with two mugs and a pot of coffee. “Clarissa has lived here all her life.” She placed a mug in front of Bruce and filled it with coffee. She placed the other mug in front of me and ask, “Usual?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
She cleared the empty dishes from the table and turned, leaving us to our conversation.
Laura smoothed her napkin. “All your life? I imagine you could tell us all about living in Tranquil Valley. I have so many questions if we are going to move here.”
Sam reached across the table and put a gentle hand on her arm. “Honey, we’re not even sure we’re going to live here. Let’s not bother Clarissa.”
“It doesn’t hurt to know more about the town, Sam.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “It really is a lovely town.”
Sam sat back and crossed his arms with a sigh. “Let’s stop beating around the bush. I know you stopped to talk to us because you want to know more about the will. And if I murdered David Tanner.”
Harriet, who had returned to our table with a pot of tea, froze halfway to placing it on the table. “You knew David?”
“No, not really. I only saw him once before, but I hated the man.” His voice had taken on a strained quality.
Harriet jerked, spilling tea from the spout of the pot. She quickly set the teapot on the table, mopping up the excess tea with the towel from her pocket. “Sorry.” She stood up, placing her hands on her hips and addressed Sam. “Why ever would you hate David? He was the gentlest and kindest man I’ve ever met.”
Sam’s face darkened. “Then you didn’t know the real David Tanner. He murdered my older brother and broke my parents’ hearts.”
“Sam,” Laura cautioned him.
“Don’t Sam me.” He crossed his arms, scowling at us. “None of you knew him years ago. He was a drunk and he hit my brother and ran. The doctor said if someone had called an ambulance right away Camden might have survived, but it was on a dark stretch of road and Tanner drove off never alerting anyone. Hours later another driver found him and called the police, but he was already dead.”
Harriet stood with her hand over her heart. Her other arm hugging her waist. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I truly am. But that’s not the David I knew.”
I poured tea into my cup. “I only met David at the fair, but he told me how remorseful he was for killing a man. I assume that was your brother. It seemed to me that he has tried to make amends over the years after he got out of jail.”
“David was in prison?” Harriet glanced down at me.
“Yeah. He went to jail.” Sam glared at me. “Paid my parents hush money if you ask me.”
“I believe he was trying to help your parents, Sam.” I stirred my tea.
“Help? No amount of money was going to bring my brother back!” Sam stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over
Laura paled as Sam stomped out of the Café. She stood up slowly and said, “Sam and his brother were very close. Sam blames himself for not being there when Camden was killed.” She turned and hurried after her husband.
Bruce stood up and righted the chair then gently guided Harriet into the seat Laura had vacated for the woman appeared shaken and unsteady. I turned to the counter and motioned to Marie, who was Harriet’s assistant. “Bring her some coffee please.” I glanced around at the few diners remaining and said, “Nothing to worry about.” I waved my hand in the air. “Just go back to your meals.”
Most of the diners averted their eyes and resumed eating while a few stared at me curiously before going back to their meals too.
Marie rushed over with a mug of coffee and placed it before Harriet. “I’ll take care of everything,” she whispered. She returned to the counter.
Harriet took a tentative sip of her coffee and shuddered. “I never knew David had been in prison or that he had killed someone. I knew he had regrets from the past, but I never realized how deep the wounds went.”
Harriet stared at the coffee mug cradled in her hands.
“You must’ve been close,” I said gently. “Would you like to talk about him?”
She lifted her gaze to me and then seemed to snap out of her daze. “No.” She stood up suddenly. “Now is not the time. I have a Café to run.”
As if to punctuate her statement, the bell jingled above the door to the Café as three new customers came in.
Harriet looked over her shoulder and turned toward the counter. She turned back and lifted her mug from the table. “I’ll see you both later.”
She left us and hurried over to help Marie with the new customers. In her haste she forgot the fact that Bruce and I hadn’t been served, other than our drinks.
Bruce jerked his head, indicating we should leave, but he handed Marie money for the coffee and tea before we left the shop. Out on the sidewalk, Bruce scratched his chin. “That didn’t go well.”
“No, it didn’t. We’re going to have to talk to Laura and Sam again.”
“And Harriet too,” Bruce said.
I turned to the Café. “I wonder how close Harriet was to David?”
“You think she could have killed David?”
“I hope n
ot. For now, I think I will go pick up Paw at the thrift shop,” I said as I glanced along the street.
Bruce grinned. “I knew you couldn’t resist checking out what happened at the thrift store.”
“Are you coming with me?”
“You bet.”
The thrift store was the brainchild of Pastor Matt. In addition to selling clothing, furniture, and other goods donated by the townspeople, the thrift store ran a food pantry. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas they provided holiday meals to the local families who were in financial straits. Throughout the year the food pantry provided food for those same families in our area. The church supported the food pantry and the church ladies volunteered to run it.
Bruce pulled into a parking spot in front of the thrift store. The building was covered in red siding with white trim around the windows. It had been a former store and had a set of glass double doors for the retail entrance. Along one side was a dock for donations and on the other was the entrance to the food pantry. Through the glass doors I saw Paw gazing out at me, tail waving joyously.
“Woof.”
I could hear my big St. Bernard from the interior of the car. I opened my door, stepped out, slammed it behind me, and dashed up three stone steps, flinging open the thrift shop front door and hugging my big lovable mutt in a tight grip.
Paw snuffled me with doggy kisses and whined softly.
“That’s why he was barking,” Alma said from the interior of the store.
Bruce stepped in behind me just managing to edge past Paw and me.
“You too?” Alma stood with hands on hips, shaking her head at Bruce. “And you say she can’t resist a mystery.”
Bruce shrugged with a sheepish grin. “Never know what an extra pair of eyes can discover.”
Alma laughed and waved us toward the back of the store to the door that led to the donation center.
I whispered to Paw, “Come on, boy.”
Alma closed the back door behind us, and we stood in the donation sorting area where three long tables stood empty. Bags and boxes of goods were stacked around the perimeter of the room and by the double doors that led out onto the donation dock. One of the doors stood open and Alma waved toward it. “They jimmied the door, prying it open.”
Bruce strode over and bent down to examine the wood around the latch. “Why’d they try to break in the door?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Bruce pointed to the glass in the door. “They could’ve just broken the glass pane. Why try to pry the door open?”
Alma tapped her chin. “Harry mentioned that when he examined the door too. I assumed they came around to this door so they wouldn’t be seen on the street at the front door. I was so surprised when I found the door open that it never occurred to me about the glass.”
I walked over to examine the latch and Paw followed me. He sniffed the door and around the floor. “Do you have an alarm on the doors?”
“No. Not on the dock one. We have them on the food pantry and the main store, but they haven’t finished wiring the doors here. The church supports the thrift store, and since it costs to run the store, new additions are put in slowly. Trust me, the doors will have an alarm on by the end of the week.”
Bruce mumbled to himself. “Closing the barn doors after the horse has ran off.”
I nudged his arm to remind him not to be rude. “I wonder if the thief, whoever it was, knew which door didn’t have an alarm?”
“Good point,” Alma said as she turned to study the room. “The volunteers all know, of course. I don’t know who else may know as many of our volunteers are the church ladies, and I’m sad to say, they love to talk.”
Bruce stood up. “You didn’t find anything stolen?”
“No.”
Paw stuck his head in some of the trash bags, displacing them and knocking over clothing and shoes across the floor.
“Paw. Stop that!” I hurried over and began scooping up clothes and shoes into the trash bags. Alma joined me and helped me clean up, while Paw nosed through the items he had displaced.
As we sorted the overturned items, I heard a car pull up outside the loading dock.
Alma looked up with a frown. “It’s not a donation day. Why do people always come and try to donate when it’s off schedule?”
“Off schedule?” Bruce asked as Paw raised his head and listened. The car’s engine shut off and I heard a car door open. Paw barked, brushed past Bruce, and ran outside.
I jumped up and ran after him. “Paw! Come back here!”
Bruce, who was closer to the door, started out after Paw then stopped. He looked over his shoulder at me. “It’s okay. It’s Mrs. Booksteen.”
He stepped out onto the dock and Alma and I joined him. Paw was leaning against Mrs. Booksteen’s side while she caressed his ears. “That’s a good boy. Where is Clarissa?”
“Right here.”
Mrs. Booksteen looked up and waved. “Is there a problem?”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Paw are at the thrift store. The two of you find trouble.” Mrs. Booksteen eased past Paw and opened her trunk which contained fully stuffed trash bags.
Paw stood up and stuck his nose into the trunk, sniffing and rooting through the collection of garbage bags. He pawed at them, trying to pull the bags open.
“Stop that!” Mrs. Booksteen tugged at Paw’s collar as a voice from inside the store called, “Alma?”
“Out here,” Alma answered.
Bruce jumped off the dock and went to help Mrs. Booksteen pull Paw back from the trash bags as I ran down the side steps to the dock.
An older woman with gray hair and a blue smock that the thrift store clerks wore rushed out the door.
“There you are,” she said as she lay a hand on her chest. “Harry called. He wants your niece to bring her St. Bernard to the theater immediately.”
I stopped in my tracks. “How did Harry know we were here?”
The older woman shrugged. “I don’t know. But he said it was urgent.”
Bruce and I exchanged a glance and Paw took that momentary distraction to jump up into the trunk. He pulled more vigorously at the bags.
Bruce grab for his collar and placed an arm around my St. Bernard’s shoulders pulling back with all his might to extricate Paw from the trunk. I hurried to help Bruce and we manhandled Paw out of the trunk. “What is he so interested in?”
Mrs. Booksteen pointed to a paper bag in the corner of her trunk. “I stopped at the grocery store on my way here and picked up some hamburger meat.”
“Ah,” Bruce said. “That’s what he was wanting.” He bent over and said to Paw, “Are you hungry, boy?”
Paw shook himself of Bruce’s hold and turned his back as though disgusted with us.
Bruce looked at me. “What’s got into him?”
“No idea.” I rubbed Paw’s back. “Come on, boy. Let’s see what uncle Harry needs.”
Paw heaved himself to his feet with a sigh. With one longing glance back at the trash bags, he plodded along beside me as Bruce and I walked around the building to his car. Alma said a hasty goodbye to Mrs. Booksteen and the volunteer and joined us.
Chapter 15
Jill, one of the theater’s actresses, met us at the front doors in a rush of words. “We thought it was rats in the walls.” She wrung her hands as she turned and headed into the theater.
“Rats?” Bruce asked as we followed her through the theater where many of the lights had been turned down low.
Jill skirted around the stage to the side door and then through another door to the backstage area where dressing rooms and scenery were stored. “Of course. We thought Saber could handle it but who knew what the problem really was.”
Bruce exchanged a look with me. “Ah, we really don’t know what the problem is.”
Jill stopped so suddenly that we nearly ran her over.
Alma pushed through between Bruce and I and put her arms around Jill. “Perhaps you should explain
from the beginning. Take a calming breath.”
Jill breathed deeply and nodded. “We’ve been hearing noises in the walls of the theater when we were having rehearsals in the evenings. We all thought it was mice or rats, and Jon borrowed Saber from Lillian to eradicate the problem. He tried traps first, but to no effect. So, he thought the cat would be a better deterrent.”
I nudged Bruce. “Harry mentioned that earlier.”
Bruce nodded. He waved his hand for Jill to continue.
Paw leaned against her leg, offering his own form of support.
She absently ruffled his ears as she continued her explanation. “We were having a rehearsal this afternoon when one of the props fell over backstage and we rushed to investigate. Saber was here and he ran ahead of us, so we decided to follow to see where the mouse hole was. Except when we got back there, we discovered Saber crawling behind a large wardrobe that hasn’t been moved in years. When we shined the flashlight behind the wardrobe, we saw eyes and discovered that it’s a child hiding in there. Saber went in and is curled up with the child, but we can’t coax him out. We called the chief but neither he nor his officer can get the child to come out. So, Harry thought that Paw might be able to entice the child out. We think it’s a small boy.”
Paw straightened up, swiveled his head, and ran through the gloomy corridor backstage.
Bruce and I ran after him with Alma and Jill bringing up the rear. When we got there, Paw’s head was wedged behind a tall wooden cabinet, the wardrobe, his tail waving languidly. Meowing, along with a small child’s voice, came from behind the wardrobe.
Paw wedged his head against the tall wardrobe and peeked an eye through the gap between the back of the wardrobe and the wall.
“Woof!”
“Mreow?”
A child’s giggle sounded from behind the wardrobe. Paw raised his right front leg and thrust it forward in the gap as he woofed encouragement to the child.
“Meow. Meow.”
I heard a rustling behind the wardrobe. A child’s voice said, “Hey! Come back here, Kitty!”
“Hiss!”
Canines and Crime Page 10
