Dogs, Lies, and Alibis

by Wendy Delaney

  Growling with a mouth full of gray polyester, he turned on me as if I were his new enemy.

  “Fozzie, it’s okay,” I said, muscling him to the other side of my car, where he couldn’t see Eric. “You’re okay. It’s just me.”

  Holding Fozzie close, I waited for him to settle. “Yeah, you’re okay now.” At least he no longer looked like he’d clamp down on the first hand that got near his mouth, and I grabbed a handful of torn gray polyester. “May I have this, please?”

  After some coaxing, he unclenched his jaw, and I was able to wrestle Eric’s slacks out of Fozzie’s mouth with minimal shredding. Not that I cared.

  I tossed them over to Steve so that Fozzie could only focus on me and my scent. “There. The bad man’s all gone.” Sinking my fingers into his ruff, I was grateful to gaze into calm, glossy brown eyes. “All better now?”

  He rubbed the top of his head against my chin.

  “I know,” I said, blinking back hot tears. “I’m happy to see you, too.

  After giving Steve enough time to get Eric into handcuffs, I straightened. “Want to go for a ride, boy?” Because I sure was ready to get out of there.

  With ears pricked to attention, Fozzie immediately strained at the leash.

  “Okay, since you’re the muscle of the two of us, you’re riding shotgun with me.”

  Unlocking my car, I gave Steve a thumbs-up sign as I led Fozzie around the back of my car. “I’m taking him home. Unless you need me to stick around to watch the little kid until his mom picks him up.”

  “No, we’ve got it covered. Go home.”

  “See you later?”

  “I’m going to be busy for a few hours,” he said, escorting Eric to Howie’s patrol car for transport, “but I’ll get there when I can.”

  “I’ll have dinner waiting for you.”

  “That’s nice, but it’s going to be to get a statement from you.”

  Of course. “Does that mean that you don’t want me to order a pizza?”

  “When have you ever heard me say no to pizza?”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said with a wave as I followed Fozzie into the Jag.

  Pulling out of the parking lot, I turned to my furry co-pilot. “Shall I ask Aunt Roxie to grill a burger for you?”

  Fozzie woofed.

  “You got it, pal.” And whatever else you want.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  GEORGE BASSETT SENIOR was quick to greet Steve and me when we stopped by the shop early the next evening.

  “I can’t thank you enough for everything you did,” he said, taking turns shaking our hands while Rufus danced around our feet.

  “Just doing our jobs, sir.” Steve gave me a hip bump. “Speaking for myself, of course.”

  I put my elbow in his side. “When are you gonna let that go?”

  “Something goin’ on that I don’t know about?” Mr. Bassett’s gaze traveled from me to Steve and back again. “Everything’s okay now, right?”

  Steve pulled me close. “Everything’s very okay now that we have the right guy in custody.”

  “Which is why we stopped by,” I said, pointing to the six-pack Steve had placed on the roof of his pickup. “We thought we should have a little celebration.”

  “Seems like a fine reason to take a break.” The Big Dog turned toward the garage. “Junior, you got company.”

  It didn’t take more than a minute for Georgie to slide out from under the old Toyota he had been banging on and come running with a goofy grin on his face. “Hey, did you hear? All the charges have been dropped.”

  Steve slapped him on the back. “I know, Dog. That’s why we’re here. Plus, I’ve got a present for you.”

  “Jeez, haven’t you done enough for me?” Sneaking me a peek, Georgie hung his head. “I mean, you didn’t need to get me nothin’.”

  “Well, don’t get too choked up about it. You haven’t seen it yet,” Steve said, stepping to his truck.

  Georgie turned to me. “Sorry, that sort of slipped out.”

  Wrapping my arms around the big galoot, I held him tight. “Don’t worry about it. Just be happy. It’s over.”

  “It’s just hard to believe it,” the Big Dog chimed in.

  Steve returned with the six-pack and a baseball bat. “Maybe this will help it feel more like it’s over.”

  Taking the bat in his hands, Georgie examined it as if it really had been the murder weapon. “I wish I had never touched this that night. If I hadn’t thrown it at Ziegler, maybe he’d still be alive.”

  Steve shook his head. “Caldwell did this. He set the whole thing in motion the minute he concocted a get-rich scheme with an old buddy.”

  Georgie looked up from the bat his dog was sniffing. “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “Let’s go to the office and have a beer, and I’ll tell you as much as I can,” Steve said, leading the way.

  * * *

  Almost twenty minutes later, when a customer showed up to collect his car, Steve and I finally said our good-byes and headed back to his truck.

  “Okay, I get that you didn’t want to get into a lot of detail with Little Dog since he’ll probably be called as a witness when this goes to trial. But I don’t understand. Where does Glenn Ferguson fit into all this?”

  Steve draped his arm over my shoulder. “Chow Mein, why do you keep insisting that he has some sort of scheme going?”

  “Because the break-ins were helping him with his security system business.”

  “You mean the one break-in at the Pembrokes’ house?”

  “Well, yes.” Seeing he put it that way.

  Steve opened my door for me. “That was his son-in-law capitalizing on what the Fergusons had set in motion with that retirement party.”

  “But I saw Mr. Ferguson with Rusty Naylor after the funeral, bossing him around like he couldn’t afford to be seen with him.”

  “Since I was the one who arrested Naylor for stealing tools from the dealership’s service department, I think it’s more likely that you just saw a pissed-off former boss.”

  “Oh.” While I climbed into the passenger seat, my brain cycled through everything I now knew about Eric Caldwell, but one big question remained unanswered.

  “I kind of understand why Eric went in with Rusty to rob the Pembrokes, but why did he do that to Colt?” I asked Steve when he shut his door.

  “From what little Caldwell said before his lawyer got him to clam up, I don’t think it was intentional.”

  “What exactly did he say? Can you tell me?”

  “There’s not a lot to tell, but from what I’ve pieced together, there was some sort of altercation after Colt failed to get the Pembrokes’ jewelry out of the limo.”

  “So, he did know that Rusty stashed something in there when he met him at the Grill.”

  “I think all Colt knew was the cock and bull story that Eric gave him about hiding a gift under the front seat for Bethany. No doubt Caldwell was panicking that someone here would find the stash and put two and two together, so he probably did some serious arm-twisting to get Colt to jump the fence.”

  “And when Georgie caught Colt by the limo and chased him out of the yard with his bat—”

  “Eric had to take matters into his own hands ‘cause Colt wasn’t going back in there. Probably even had Fozzie with him by then.”

  “You actually think Fozzie was there?”

  “It explains why he was running loose the next day. Plus, I found some cotton fibers and scratches in the back of that SUV that the wife can’t account for. A roll of gauze is missing from the first aid kit that they kept back there, so I think Caldwell made some sort of muzzle to restrain the dog after Colt hit his head.”

  “Fozzie certainly would have been barking up a storm if Colt were in trouble.”

  Steve nodded. “Which Rufus would have heard, and then he would have started sounding the intruder alarm. Not the situation you want when you need to quietly hop a fence and retrieve the stolen jewelry from
the limo. My theory is that Caldwell tied the dog down in the car and then dumped him off a mile away so that it would look like Colt had been struck during the initial break-in. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Okay, so sometime between Eric’s arrival with his kid and him driving away with the jewelry, Colt hits his head on something, Fozzie gets tied down in the car… And Eric makes the conscious choice to leave his cousin there to die?” Even after my brush with the creep at the park, I found that difficult to wrap my brain around.

  “I don’t think he just fell and hit his head, but yes. That’s pretty much how I see it.”

  “But how could he leave Colt like that?”

  “Remember what Caldwell told you about loose ends? Colt with his injury would have been a big one.”

  “But he was thick as thieves with Rusty—no pun intended. Colt had to have known what Rusty was up to and he was keeping his mouth shut.”

  Steve gave his head a shake. “I think Colt was just the limo driver—a convenient middle man that Caldwell knew he could count on to show up at the Grill that night.”

  What? “No, he has to be in it to some degree. The diamond ring—”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Jessica told me.” And I read a note that I didn’t think it was in my best interest to mention. “She also said that she thought it had been expensive.”

  He shrugged. “Not that expensive.”

  “Because Rusty sold it to him at a big discount after some heist, right?”

  “Because Colt bought it at the Valu-Mart.”

  I slumped back in my seat. “Wow. Was I ever wrong about him.”

  He patted my knee. “Shocker.”

  “Come on, you were probably thinking the same thing when you found out that Rusty and Colt were members of the crew that painted the Pembroke house.”

  “But I didn’t jump to any conclusions about it.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  His gaze shifted to my chest. While I typically don’t take issue with him catching a glimpse of the girls, I didn’t like the grin on his face. “What?”

  “Looks like you might have brushed up against Dog.”

  I looked down, inspecting my favorite woven shirt. “Dang, I’ve been slimed again.”

  “Want to head home to change before we go eat?”

  We’d had so little time together lately, I didn’t want to do anything to delay the dinner date Steve had promised me when he picked me up at my apartment. “No, I got a little too busy to do laundry last night, so I don’t have much to change into besides a bridesmaid’s dress, and I’m not wearing that. Let’s just go.”

  “It’s early. Maybe I should take you shopping.”

  Other than the Valu-Mart, there weren’t a lot of clothing store options in town. “In Port Townsend?”

  “Sure.” He started the engine. “I need to buy a wedding present anyway.”

  I placed my hand on his to keep him from shifting into gear. “Whose wedding?” I asked, trying to tamp down my excitement that he was finally bringing up this subject.

  “Someone I used to go out with.”

  Really? You’re not going to tell me the truth?

  Turning, he must have recognized the disappointment etched in my face because his lips stretched into a lopsided smile. “Fine. My ex-fiancée.”

  “Gina, right?”

  The smile disappeared. “I didn’t realize you knew about her.”

  “Gram mentioned your engagement a while back.” Last week.

  “Didn’t last long. Turned out we wanted different things.”

  “She’s a big deal on TV in LA now, right?”

  “And that’s nowhere I want to be.”

  I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to interpret that. “I assume that’s where the wedding is?”

  “Yep.”

  “You going?”

  “Heck, no. Unlike your mother, I don’t need to fill my social calendar with events I don’t have a personal stake in.”

  She’d be disappointed to hear that news, but I was more than okay with it.

  “It’s bad enough that I’m obligated to send a gift,” he said, staring at my left boob.

  “What are you thinking about buying?”

  Instead of answering, Steve rubbed at the grease smudge with the pad of his thumb. “I don’t think this is going to come off.” His eyes darkened as he unfastened the top two buttons and reached under my bra. “But maybe if you take it off and spray it with something…”

  “Detective, I think you’re trying to get me naked.”

  He grinned. “And I think your detecting skills are improving.”

  * * *

  While Steve and I drove back from Port Townsend with a wedding present and a new blouse, I reached back to pet the furry black dog sticking his head out my window.

  “I still don’t know why we needed to bring the dog,” Steve said. “He’s slobbering all over my interior.”

  “It’s a truck. It can handle a little slobber. Besides, I didn’t want to leave him alone any longer than necessary today.”

  Steve shot me a smirk. “He’s a dog. He can handle being alone for a few hours. Besides, didn’t that kid walk him earlier?”

  Chucking Fozzie under the chin, I smiled. “Lily, and yes. That’s working out great.”

  “So, why exactly is he along for the ride?”

  “Because I was hoping you could take us to the dog park.”

  “It’s closed.”

  “I know.” That was why I wanted Steve with me. “But I forgot something there. Do you mind making a little side trip?”

  “What’d you forget?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “That doesn’t really look like something you forgot,” Steve said fifteen minutes later, when I tossed the FREE DOG sign into the trash can next to the park kiosk.

  “Okay, technically it’s more like something I’ve wanted to do all day.”

  Leaning over, I wrapped my arms around Fozzie’s neck. “I’m assuming that decision is okay with you.”

  Wagging his tail, he woofed.

  I linked my arm with Steve’s. “You heard him. Let’s go home.”

  THE END

  Thank you for reading Dogs, Lies, and Alibis. I hope you enjoyed spending time with Char, Steve, and the Duke’s Cafe gang. To help other readers discover this book, I’d be very grateful if you’d post a short review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

  Thanks so much for your support!

  Dedication

  For Mom

  Acknowledgments

  None of my books happen by themselves, and that was certainly the case with this “puppy”—a labor of love, but it did give me some fits. And am I ever grateful that I had a couple of subject matter experts that I could call on for their kind assistance.

  First of all, I must thank my husband, Jeff. Not only are you my “guy stuff” advisor, you’re my very best guy, and you can cook. I’m keeping you.

  Jody Sherin, you were with me every step of the way on this book. Thanks for the encouragement and support even when they were baby steps accompanied by a bit of whining.

  To “K,” my “cop stuff” advisor, I’m so appreciative of your timely feedback. Without you, I surely would have gone astray, and more than once.

  Jacquie Rogers, Kate Curran, and Diane Garland, thanks for your support. I’m grateful I can call on you when I need another brain.

  Elizabeth Flynn, you’re a brilliant woman, and you have excellent taste in socks. Thanks for lending me your expertise.

  Thank you, Sean Dwyer. Mi amigo, you saved me from making a major oops.

  Lastly, I offer my heartfelt thanks to my dream team of beta-readers and supporters: Denise Keef, Heather Chargualaf, Lori Dubiel, Susan Cambra, Brandy Lanfair, Denise Fluhr, Cindy Nelson, Vicki Huskey, Corie Carson, Jan Dobbins, Kimber Hungerman, Amber Lassig, DeAnna Shaikoski, Mattie Piela, Hope Goodlaxson, Deidre Herzog, Jana Buxton, Connie Lightner, and Kare
n Haverkate. You all rock.

  About the Author

  Wendy Delaney writes fun-filled cozy mysteries and is the award-winning author of the Working Stiffs Mystery series. A long-time member of Mystery Writers of America, she's a Food Network addict and pastry chef wannabe. When she's not killing off story people she can be found on her treadmill, working off the calories from her latest culinary adventure. Wendy makes her home in the Seattle area with the love of her life and has two grown sons.

  For some fun conversation and book news as it happens, please join Wendy at her Facebook hangout, Duke’s Cafe.

  To keep up on Wendy’s news, go to www.wendydelaney.com and subscribe to her newsletter. Not only will you stay up-to-date with book news, you’ll be entered in a drawing to win a Duke’s Cafe coffee mug! We’ll also have periodic drawings to win print books—your opportunity to read/review Wendy’s new releases in paperback! All you have to do is go to the “Newsletter” page and provide your name and email address. Easy peasy!

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  More by this Author

  The Working Stiffs Mystery Series

  Trudy, Madly, Deeply

  Sex, Lies, and Snickerdoodles

  There’s Something About Marty

  You Can’t Go Gnome Again

  Dogs, Lies, and Alibis

  TRUDY, MADLY, DEEPLY (Book 1)

  After human lie detector Charmaine Digby scores a job as the County Coroner's new investigative assistant, the unthinkable happens—a doctor reports the suspicious death of Trudy, a family friend and one of several elderly patients at the hospital whose heart mysteriously stopped.

  With no physical evidence of foul play, Char's on the case, much to the irritation of Detective Steve Sixkiller, who doesn't want her to stick her pretty nose for trouble in his investigation. But she's a woman on a mission to uncover the truth, and she'd better keep her eyes open or the next body on the way to the morgue could be hers.