Canines and Crime

by Sandra Baublitz

  I mused aloud, “So Charlotte possibly wouldn’t have known.”

  Harriet’s eyes widened. “She did it. That lousy witch.”

  I shook my head. “We can’t be sure of that. We need more evidence.”

  Harriet scowled. “She had the most obvious motive.”

  “Harriet, we can’t be sure she did it. You need to stay calm.”

  Harriet glared at me. “I’m not going to wait around and let her get off scot-free.”

  As I wondered how I was going to convince her to stay calm, Paw walked over and leaned against Harriet. She looked down at my big, fuzzy St. Bernard and placed a gentle hand on his head. He gazed up at her with loving brown eyes.

  She took a deep breath then another. “Okay,” she exhaled, “you’re right. I don’t want to jeopardize her arrest. But I’m not gonna wait around forever, and if I see her, I will confront her.

  “Then I hope you don’t see her.” I debated saying more, but before I could, I heard a series of barks and yips. I glanced over as Samuel and Bitsy ran into the cemetery.

  Shelbee gracefully jogged after them.” She glanced over to Harriet. “Hi.” Then glanced back to me. “What are you doing here?”

  Paw, who had ignored Samuel and Bitsy in favor of comforting Harriet, now left her side and strained to join his friends who were milling around the tombstones. I held tight to his leash, and Shelbee whistled for Samuel and Bitsy to return to her side. She clipped on their leashes when they returned.

  Harriet bent forward and placed a hand on David’s gravestone then stood up. “I need to get back to the Café. Let me know when you have enough evidence.” She turned from me, inclined her head to Shelbee, and left through the cemetery gates.

  Shelbee gazed after her. “What was that about?”

  She turned back to me and I shrugged. “She was visiting David’s grave. I did learn something though. Charlotte didn’t want David to change his will, but David changed it the night before the fair.”

  Shelbee quirked an eyebrow. “Good motive for murder.” Then she tilted her head. “I wonder if she, Charlotte, knew he changed his will?”

  “Me too.” Samuel, Bitsy, and Paw sniffed noses and milled around our feet.

  “So, what were you doing at the cemetery?”

  “I felt it only right to leave flowers for David, and I brought some for grandmother too.”

  Shelbee smiled. “Good to hear. It was about time that you visited for a change.” She stepped up and hugged me and whispered, “How did it go?”

  I quickly brushed away a tear that rolled down my face. I sniffled. “Good.”

  Shelbee hugged me a little tighter and then let go. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I nodded.

  We gathered the dogs and left through the cemetery gate. Just before I closed the gate behind me, I gazed across the cemetery to my grandmother’s grave. I mouthed, “I love you,” then latched the gate.

  Shelbee waited for me by my car. Once I opened the back door for Paw to jump in, she said, “I’m taking Bitsy to see Dorothy tonight.”

  Bitsy had been previously owned by a pet fancier name Dorothy. She had been involved in one of our former murder investigations. Now she was in prison, but when she was arrested, she had asked Shelbee to care for Bitsy. Shelbee, who loved all animals, was more than willing to care for the little Pomeranian.

  I glanced down as the little dog danced next to Samuel. “How do the meetings go?”

  Shelbee shrugged. “Not bad actually. Bitsy still remembers Dorothy and seems to really love seeing her, but she’s also very willing to come back home with us.”

  “Do you need me to keep Samuel?”

  “No. Jac is going with me. This time will be a short visit and we’ll return late this evening.”

  I nodded. “You know I’d be happy to go with you.”

  Shelbee smiled. “I know.” She looked down at the little Pomeranian. “But Paw will want to go too.”

  I sighed. “I wish they were friends.”

  “They will be. It takes time.” Shelbee scooped up Bitsy. “See you tomorrow.”

  Samuel followed her and Bitsy to their car.

  I petted Paw’s shoulder. “Come on, boy. Let’s go.”

  Paw gazed longingly after Samuel and whined.

  “It’s okay, boy. You’ll see Sammy tomorrow when he comes back from their visit to the prison.”

  I didn’t mention Dorothy’s name, but Paw growled low in his throat. He remembered her too but had less fond memories than Bitsy. He turned and hopped into the front seat.

  Shelbee waved as she pulled out of the driveway, and I hopped into my car, deciding I’d make one last attempt at questioning Charlotte about the will. So far, she had been dodging my questions.

  I drove to her neighborhood, noticing her and her boyfriend’s cars in the driveway. I knew Bruce wouldn’t be happy that I went here by myself, but I had Paw with me.

  I stepped out of the car, snapped on Paw’s leash, and after closing the car door, led him up the steps to the front door. I rang the doorbell.

  Then waited.

  And waited.

  Chapter 21

  No one opened the door, but a voice behind me spoke, “Excuse me.”

  I turned to see a young woman with curly red hair and a toddler on her hip hurrying toward me. In one hand she held a plastic trash bag. “Didn’t I see you at the thrift store? Weren’t you here a week ago with Mrs. Booksteen?”

  The door opened behind me. Ned Turner stood scowling at me. “What do you want?” he asked with arms crossed over his chest.

  The young woman who had called to me was now at the bottom of the steps and stood cautiously observing.

  I held up a hand toward Turner and glanced back to the young mother behind me. “Yes. I helped Mrs. Booksteen pick up thrift store donations here last week. Do you have something you wish to donate?”

  The young woman grinned. “Yes, please. Timmy,” she nodded her head towards the toddler in her arms, “takes up all my time, and I haven’t gotten to the thrift shop.” She leaned forward with the trash bag. “Could you take these things to the shop for me?”

  I nodded. “Sure. I might not get them there for a day or two, but I’ll make sure that they are dropped off.”

  Paw swiveled his head between Ned Turner and the toddler. His tail thumped, eager to greet the little guy, but he kept a wary eye on the artist who had flicked cigarette ash on him the last time we had confronted him.

  “Are you two done jabbering?” Turner asked as he started to shut the door.

  I stuck my hand forward and pressed against the door. “One moment. I need to speak with Charlotte. Is she here?”

  The young mother, sensing the tension in the air, called a hurried thank you over her shoulder and scurried away.

  He scowled. “What do you want to talk to her about now?”

  I glared at him. “I will only discuss that with Charlotte. Now, is she here?”

  He grinned evilly. “No. She’s not, but if she was, I wouldn’t let you talk to her anyway.” With that he shoved the door, forcing me to step back and slamming it in my face.

  Paw growled, the fur on the back of his neck raised.

  “Come on, boy. So much for questioning Charlotte.” I stopped by my car door and looked up at the house. Curtains twitched in the upper right-hand window. Charlotte was home but obviously was avoiding me. Or else, that boyfriend of hers didn’t want her talking to me. I opened my car door for Paw to jump in and heard a horn beep. I looked to the street to see Mark pull up to the curb and put his front passenger window down. “Let’s talk,” he hollered through the window.

  I tilted my head to the side. “Could you be a little more polite?”

  Mark shook his head. “Okay. Let’s talk, please. How about we meet at the newspaper office? Follow me. Please.”

  I hopped in my car, backed out of the driveway, and followed Mark to the newspaper office, where I parked around back in one of the spaces
allotted to the business. Mark was already ahead of me, inserting his key in the lock and opening the back door. Paw and I caught up, and the three of us went inside. Paw and I headed to the front of the office while Mark closed the back door and fetched us something to drink.

  I sat down in the only empty chair across from Mark’s desk. A stack of newspapers and books occupied the other chair next to mine. Paw stretched out on the floor, making himself at home. Mark returned with a tray laden with his coffee mug, my cup of tea, and a bowl of water for Paw. Mark put the bowl of water on the floor and Paw eagerly lapped it up then shook himself vigorously, sending water and drool flying in all directions.

  Mark grunted. “Going to have to cover everything in here with plastic so that it’s easy to wipe down,” he grumbled.

  I ignored his complaints. “So, have you learned anything new?”

  I lifted my cup of tea from the tray and stirred it as it was still piping hot.

  Mark grabbed his mug of coffee and swallowed deeply even though it had to be scalding hot based on the steam rising from the cup. “That was what I was going to ask you?”

  I sighed. Mark wasn’t going to make this easy. He never did. “Tit for tat?”

  Mark nodded. He motioned to me, indicating that I should go first.

  “I spoke with Harriet this morning. She was at the graveyard putting flowers on David Tanner’s grave.”

  “I know. You did too, and you visited your grandmother’s grave.”

  I set my tea down and crossed my arms. “Spying on me?”

  He shrugged. “My job is to know what goes on in this town. What did you learn?”

  I watched him in silence, debating whether I wanted to divulge what I’d learned. Mark could be a pain, but he did share information, so I opted to confide in him.

  “Harriet told me that David changed his will. The night before he died.”

  That got his attention. “How did she know this?”

  I retrieved my tea, stirring it. “I didn’t ask her, but I assume David told her, although I will speak to her again to find out for sure. Apparently, Charlotte was pressuring David not to change his will.”

  Mark rubbed his chin. “Sounds to me like she wanted his money.”

  Mark drummed his fingers on the top of his desk. “So Charlotte wanted the will to stay the same. She had ample motive for murder.” He held up a finger. “But if she found out that he had changed his will, then she wouldn’t have motive since he cut her out of a good portion of it. However, Tammy Williams and the Betterment Foundation would’ve had a motive.”

  I sipped my tea. “But if Charlotte did not realize he changed his will and thought the old one was still intact, then she would have had a very good reason to have murdered him.” Mark sat back in his chair and took a healthy swig of his coffee. “True.”

  We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Finally, I said, “Have you learned anything else in regard to the case?”

  Mark drained his coffee mug and set it back on his desk. “Everything I have learned is idle gossip, and if you ask me, has no bearing on the case. Tammy Williams missed a house showing the evening of the fundraiser. The young man who inherited the bulk of David’s estate was seen walking down Main Street at ten at night on the night of the murder. His wife smokes. The artist boyfriend is a shoeaholic owning a closet full of those same red tennis shoes he wore to the park.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “But wouldn’t that indicate Sam Davis and Tammy Williams could have been at the park, possibly killing David?”

  Mark grunted. “You would think so, but no, the young man was out at the drugstore banging on the door wanting headache medicine. A street sweeper saw him, and the druggist confirmed that that’s what happened. I confirmed the times with Patricia at the B&B. His activities are accounted for. He had no time to go to the park. As for Tammy Williams, I confirmed that she missed her meeting because she was at the bar outside of town getting drunk.”

  I sat forward in my seat. “Tammy Williams drinks?”

  “She’d never been in the bar before according to the barman, but that night, she sat in the corner booth drinking red wine until well past midnight. She couldn’t have stabbed David.”

  I fidgeted in my chair, tapping my fingers against my thigh. “So where does that leave us? Charlotte, Ned Turner, Laura Davis?”

  “It looks that way, but Tammy or Sam Davis could’ve hired someone to kill David. I’m still searching into their backgrounds to see if I can find out anything more, and I’m searching their finances to see if either one paid somebody to kill David.”

  “You can do that?”

  Mark grinned. “I have my ways.”

  “It looks like Charlotte is our main suspect. But she won’t talk to me and I get nowhere with Turner, but I can talk to Laura. Mrs. Renaud saw her at the park the night of the murder, and she was supposed go and speak to Uncle Harry about it. However, I haven’t heard anything from my uncle.”

  “Would he tell you?” Mark asked as he stood up and reached for his coffee mug.

  I sighed. “Maybe. I guess I’ll go over to the police station and talk to him.”

  I stood up and Paw jumped to his feet then we followed Mark to the back of the store. Mark refilled his mug and asked, “What about Lillian? Is she still investigating?”

  I groaned. “I better check in with her too. My guess is she is still investigating, but I better make sure she is safe.”

  “She won’t thank you for that.”

  “I know.” I turned towards the back door then stopped. “Did you find out anything more about Taylor? He’s staying with Harry and Alma until his grandmother arrives. Which should be today.”

  Mark nodded. “I did some checking and it looks like the woman who claims to be his grandmother really is his grandmother.” He looked at his watch. “In fact, that woman should be showing up at the police station about now. Hold on a tick,” he said as he transferred his coffee into a travel mug. “I’ll follow you to the police station.”

  Before we reached the back door, Mark’s phone rang. He picked it up. “Hello?”

  I heard Lillian’s strident voice on the line.

  “That’s not—” Mark started to protest then covered the mouthpiece with his hand.

  To me, he said, “Go on ahead. I’ll handle Lillian and follow you.”

  I nodded and left with Paw.

  We left the shop, got in my car, and headed to the police station.

  Parking in the lot in back, I skirted the building to the front entrance.

  The police station was abuzz with activity. Raised voices competed to be heard over top of each other. A group of people stood arguing in front of Harry’s office door.

  Chapter 22

  The group consisted of my uncle, my aunt Alma, a tall woman with fading reddish hair streaked with gray pulled back in a ponytail, Taylor, and Ms. Peabody. Ofc. Barnes and Ofc. Heldman hovered on either side of the group, prepared to intervene if necessary.

  “He belongs with his grandmother,” Alma said, pointing her finger to the tall woman with graying red hair.

  “We haven’t established that she is his grandmother,” Ms. Peabody said. “I can’t release him to her custody until I have proof that she is his grandmother and that she has his best care in mind.”

  Taylor stood, jerking his head back and forth between the adults.

  The dispatcher, who was goggling at the crowd, ignored me as I walked up to the desk.

  “Hi, Cheryl,” I said.

  She didn’t look at me but waved her hand for me to go through the gate that separated the lobby from the police station proper.

  I heard the click of the gate as she buzzed it open.

  Paw, who was walking ahead of me, picked up speed and then ran, barreling through the half door.

  Officer Barnes jumped back to avoid Paw’s advance and clipped Margaret Kelly, one of the interns who had been carrying a stack of files.

  Margaret stumbled backwards lan
ding on her derrière, cursing as she was showered by a pile of papers and Manila folders.

  Conversation ceased while the cursing continued, and the giggling began. The giggling was coming from Taylor because Paw was slurping his face with big doggy kisses as he stood protectively over him.

  “Here now,” the woman with reddish-gray hair scolded, advancing on Paw and Taylor.

  As she approached the boy, Paw looked around and growled low in his throat.

  Harry, who knew my dog well, stepped in front of the woman. “I wouldn’t do that. He’s a friendly dog, but he takes protection seriously. Taylor has been his responsibility after we found the boy. He doesn’t know you, so he doesn’t trust you.”

  I thought Harry was laying that on a little thick as Paw usually greeted every stranger happily. Whether Paw sensed something about this woman, or was just being protective, I didn’t know, but I intended to find out. I hurried through the swinging gate and grasped Paw’s collar, pulling him back off Taylor who protested the loss of his furry friend.

  “It’s okay,” I said to Taylor. “You can still sit with Paw.”

  Taylor sat up and threw his arms around Paw’s legs.

  “Sit.”

  Paw sat.

  I was shocked that Paw obeyed my command, as he was not overly well-trained, I had to admit under my breath. I grumbled, “Show off,” figuring my dog had done this simply to make a point that he was well behaved.

  Ms. Peabody, the social services official, glanced from Taylor to Paw and then to Harry and the older woman. She wisely refrained from arguing Paw’s presence. “We need more proof that you are indeed Taylor’s grandmother.” She addressed the older woman, who huffed and crossed her arms.

  “I am his grandmother. I’ve shown you my ID and told you who his parents were.”

  Ms. Peabody shook her head. “I need birth certificates, proof of guardianship.” She nodded, indicating Taylor. “I need his birth certificate.”