Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books!

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “They can see how people interact. Watch folks in their natural habitats. Ain’t you ever read anything by Agatha Christie?”

  “Yes. You coming?” I aimed to cut the conversation short and do what I could for Zoe. “Let’s go.”

  We trooped out my front door with all the determination of two women on a mission. I didn’t worry about Leesa being nasty to me, because I had Mert by my side. Mert struck me as the sort of person who could handle whatever Leesa threw our way.

  “What?” Leesa opened the door and scowled at me. At her feet was the blue bin. Evidently we’d interrupted her on her way to put out the recycling. “Why is cleaning lady with you?”

  “Um, Brita phoned and asked me to take care of Zoe.”

  Leesa’s chilly demeanor thawed a little. “I do not know dogs. You will take? Right now? Good, but wait. I must put out garbage.”

  This young woman had no social graces at all. Or, if she did, she didn’t bother to waste them on us. Instead of stopping to get Zoe, Leesa walked past us and set the tub beside the curb.

  “Is done,” she said, brushing off her hands.

  “Like I was saying, I’d be happy to take care of the dog for as long as necessary. I love animals, and Anya is absolutely crazy about Zoe.” Staring at the perfectly made-up face and trim physique, I reminded myself of what I’d learned the night before.

  Leesa was all alone. Sort of. I had no idea how close she was to any of her girlfriends or to the people who’d shown up at her party. Maybe Lars would come over and comfort her. Who knew?

  But she didn’t have a child and I did. Her husband was dead. I couldn’t imagine the sort of emptiness she must feel.

  While Mert and I waited on the portico, Leesa shut the door in our faces. I stood there, nose nearly touching the crackled green paint. It felt like I’d been slapped. The tightness of anger clogged my throat. I would have turned and walked away, but Mert grabbed my arm.

  “Just roll with it. She’s different.” Mert lifted and dropped a shoulder.

  And, of course, Zoe was on the other side of the barrier.

  The door opened, and Leesa passed me the leash. Zoe happily trotted to my side.

  “Food and dishes,” Leesa said, handing a heavy mesh bag to Mert. “Dog needs to peepee. Your problem now.”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  As we stepped off the stoop, I whispered to Mert, “Anya will be thrilled.”

  “Yeah, that little girl of yours’ll be in hog heaven, for sure. Don’t think your hubby is gonna be happy. But that’s another thing entirely.”

  “How’s the bag?” I asked. “Are you okay with it?”

  She assured me that the weight of the dog food and dishes didn’t bother her at all. As we ambled past the open garage door, a black shadow came flying out. Zoe cocked an ear but didn’t seem bothered. Her tail wagged as she walked obediently by my side.

  “There goes Bart. The king of the open garage door.” I explained to Mert what I’d learned about Alma chasing the cat and ultimately taking a fall that killed her. “I can’t believe it. A simple fall and then she dies?”

  “Breaking a hip causes all sorts of complications. Less mobility and a bigger chance of ending up in a nursing home to name just two. Shoot-fire, I ain’t even sure they’ve explored all the reasons it’s such a problem. But it is practically a death sentence.”

  Those last words hit me hard. Was Brita also looking at a death sentence? Could the police prove she’d killed her own brother? I gave myself a little shake, trying to get rid of my gloomy thoughts.

  After we crossed the street, Zoe squatted in the overgrown lot. When she had finished, she pulled toward my house.

  “I wonder if I should make her stay outside a little longer. See if her tank is really empty,” I said.

  “Why bother?” Mert asked. “In dog years, she’s got a lot more experience than you do. If she has to go, she’ll let you know.”

  72

  Brita had put a lot of trust into her pastor. Too much trust for my taste, but I didn’t know him and she did. Other than fret and light a candle, I could not do more for my new friend than to take good care of her beloved pet.

  Zoe nudged me with a cold nose. Her brown eyes searched my face, as though she was waiting for me to confirm that everything would be all right. I told her as much and gave her a hug. She smelled of dog and cedar from her bed.

  Leesa insistence that she take out her recycling rather than transfer the dog reminded me I needed to sort our waste materials as well. Thanks to Mert’s help, we’d knocked down a lot of boxes. The pile of blank newsprint was growing at a satisfying rate.

  Zoe sat by my side while I sorted the trash in the garage. The hum of the vacuum signaled that Mert was doing a final pass before gathering her cleaning equipment and supplies. Still, sorting the recyclables made me feel virtuous. It was also something that George and I were both passionate about. Sheila thought we were nuts. She didn’t believe in recycling.

  "How can you not believe?" I'd asked. "This isn't a fantasy like the tooth fairy. It's science."

  "It’s baloney. You do all that dirty work and they dump everything into one big pile. It all goes to the same landfill."

  I didn't care. If it even helped just a little, it was a step in the right direction. While stacking up the boxes, I put the newsprint aside. After flattening it out and folding it, I realized it would make the perfect raw material for papier mâché. Suddenly, the desire to get back to crafting hit me hard. How had I lost the urge? The answer: I’d buried it in the hustle-bustle of daily life. With a sigh, I sorted the heavy solid items. Once they were in the bin, it looked nearly empty.

  While Mert loaded her things in the truck, I lugged the recycling tub to the curb, cringing as rivulets of water dripped down my pants legs. Inside were tin cans, two Diet Dr Pepper cans, a dozen baby food jars, a plastic container from cottage cheese, and a stack of flattened cereal boxes.

  “Let’s go inside and look at a calendar and figure out when we can finish this here job up.” Mert slammed her door shut.

  Zoe never left my side. She was such a good dog.

  “Right. How much more do we have to do? What’s your estimate?”

  “At least a whole day. Probably more like one and a half. Depends on if you want me to tackle the garage and outside? Them there windows of yours are covered with dirt. It’s a wonder you can see out.”

  I didn’t have a calendar on me, because I hadn’t needed one, but she did. We walked back inside. There I found a scrap of paper to take notes on. I also wrote Mert a check.

  “Believe me, you’re worth your weight in gold, but this will have to do.”

  After cracking open two celebratory cans of Diet Dr Pepper, We settled on a time two days away. “Of course, iff’n I get a break or a cancellation, I’ll come straight here. Or would you rather I phone you first?”

  “You’re always welcome here,” I said, and I meant it.

  “That’s nice to hear.” Mert gave me a hug.

  I’d gone back to breaking down boxes when Mert phoned.

  “When I was pulling away, I noticed your recycling bin. You ought to rinse out them there windshield washer fluid bottles. That stuff tastes sweet. If the dog or that black cat licks up the fluid, they could die.”

  “What windshield washer fluid bottles are you talking about?”

  “The ones in your recycling. You must have a dozen or more.”

  “Are you sure you were looking at the right bin? I just took my recycling out, remember? When I sorted it, there weren’t any bottles in there. Certainly there weren’t any bottles of windshield washer fluid.”

  “Yours is right by your driveway. It couldn’t belong to no one else.”

  I looked out the window. “Yeah, it is sitting there by its lonesome, but I promise you I did not put any windshield fluid bottles in it.”

  “Then you got pixies in your neighborhood, and they like clean car windows, ‘cause you sure got a passel of bottles
in that blue bin.”

  With that, she said goodbye.

  I left Zoe inside, while I went out to see if Mert was right. Of course, she was.

  Curious about Mert’s claim that the liquid could sicken Zoe or Bart, I read the label.

  And all the hairs stood up on the back of my head.

  73

  I circled the blue bin, staring at the pile of empty containers. “I have to calm down,” I said out loud.

  Where had the bottles had come from? No one was near for me to talk to, so I kept up a steady conversation with myself.

  “This can’t have anything to do with Sven’s death. It can’t be the poison they’re looking for. Why would he drink windshield fluid? That’s crazy. These didn’t come from our house. That’s not possible. I know what I put in that bin, when I sorted things. But where did they come from?”

  Pulling my phone from my pocket, I stood there in the street and called George at work. I didn’t bother with a greeting. Instead, I plunged right in. “Did you dump a bunch of windshield fluid bottles in our recycling bin?”

  “No. Of course not. I’ve been at work all day.”

  “So you never emptied or owned any bottles of windshield fluid?”

  “No. I go to that full-serve station over on Conway once a month. They top off all my fluids. Remember? I told you that you should do that, too.”

  “You are absolutely, one hundred percent positive that you haven’t purchased any windshield fluid bottles or used any windshield fluid in our cars? You didn’t box any up to bring to our new house?”

  “Absolutely not. Why would I? The full-serve station always checks my oil levels and my other fluids.” He paused. “Why? Do you need windshield fluid?”

  “I’m fine. Just asking.” With that, I ended the call. Walking back into the house, I emptied a smallish box. Taking it to the curb, I studied the empty bottles of windshield fluid. Rather than touch them directly, I took the bottom hem of my tee shirt and used it like an oven mitt to cover my skin. Holding a bottle up to the light, I could see that the fluid was icy blue.

  I’d seen that color of liquid before. I reached for the memory, but it eluded me. It danced just beyond my grasp, taunting me.

  Where had I seen it?

  Was it really the same as I remembered?

  Was I putting two and two together and coming up with six?

  I glanced over at the Nordstroms’ garage. As usual, their door was up. Was Bart wandering inside? Had Leesa tossed any bottles that might do the cat harm?

  I jogged across the street and looked in her bin. Nothing was there but fashion magazines, a cereal box, and an old newspaper.

  Back on my side of the street, I grabbed the lightweight box and carried it back inside my garage. Tucking one set of flaps under the other, I closed it up. For good measure, I ran inside the house and grabbed packing tape. As I sealed the box, I thought over what I knew, what I’d seen, and what I suspected. I put the sealed box back in the recycling bin. No way could an animal get to it now.

  I called Robbie Holmes. He didn’t answer, but I got his answering machine. I asked him to get back to me. Almost as an afterthought, I said, “By the way, I just found a bunch of windshield washer fluid bottles in my recycling bin. Neither George nor I bought them. Isn’t that weird?”

  As I ended the call, a thought occurred to me. What if another neighbor, someone farther down the street, had dumped extra bottles into our bin? If so, Bart could get into those.

  “Kitty, kitty?” I called. I didn’t get a response. It was entirely possible that Bart was inside his home and safe. But, then again, he was such a little sneak. Who knew where he was?

  Hitting the garage door button, I jumped over the beam of the electric eye and headed toward the Bergens’ house.

  74

  Enid opened Talbot Bergen’s front door. Today she wore a good amount of makeup, tight jeans, and a low-cut blue top with faux gems around the neckline. The change in her appearance shocked me. She’d gone from mousy to provocative. What was that all about?

  “I hope you aren’t trying to sell something.” Her voice sounded defiant.

  “No, I just wanted to speak to Mr. Bergen.”

  “He is resting.” Her eyes flicked to a hallway. “Lately, he’s been taking little naps. Especially after his walk.”

  “I dropped by to warn him not to let Bart wander around.”

  “Has that old cat been bothering you?”

  “I’m worried about him getting into trouble.”

  “What a Romeo.” She shook her head. “You’d never guess he’s been neutered. No matter how hard we try to keep him inside, he slips past us faster than we can close a door.”

  “It’s not about his love life. I’m worried about him getting sick.”

  “Sick?” She raised an eyebrow. After glancing at her watch, she seemed to relax. “Why would he get sick? Look, I’ve got a little time. Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea?”

  “Sure. Tea, please.” I followed her into a spotless kitchen. Modern white cabinets and a granite countertop suggested it was new, but the appliances particularly intrigued me. They were top-of-the-line machines with the most cutting edge electronic gadgetry available. Standing there, I gawked at the blinking lights.

  “Talbot loves his toys,” Enid said. She moved elegantly from the coffee pot to the cabinet and then to the refrigerator, collecting items to serve our drinks. “As for the appliances, he loves anything new. Wants to know how everything works. He is always reading and thinking. He’s very curious.”

  Rather than wander around, and I wanted to, I pulled out a chair and sat down. “You must enjoy Mr. Bergen’s company.”

  “I love Talbot to pieces.”

  It took all my willpower not to react. This seemed completely inappropriate. It was also none of my business.

  “Yes,” she continued. “I just adore him. He’s been like a second father to my boy, Marshal. Marshal thinks he’s wonderful, and Talbot loves spending time with him. Talbot never had a boy of his own. He and Alma only had the two girls. Of course they aren’t girls now. They are grown women.”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen them around.” I wanted to keep her stream of commentary going.

  “Don’t get me started.” Her mouth screwed up into a twisted pout. “Those two are absolutely spoiled rotten. Never worked a day in their lives. Snotty as all get out. And selfish? It’s a crime. They can’t be bothered to make time for him. They’re disgusting.”

  “So the daughters hired you? Because of his Alzheimer’s?”

  “What? Who said he has Alzheimer’s? That’s not true! Talbot is sharp as a tack. Sometimes he doesn’t sleep well. Occasionally, he might sound a little confused.”

  “Confused?”

  “Only because he’s tired. Really tired. When he’s like that, he tends to wander. Today, I found him around the corner, messing with a neighbor’s recycling bin.”

  “I think it was my bin.”

  “You live in that new house around the corner? That mansion?” She sounded envious.

  “Yes, that’s our place.”

  “Cost you the big bucks, didn’t it?” Her eyes twinkled.

  “I guess. My husband handles all that.” Her intense glare felt uncomfortable, as did her interest in our finances.

  “You’ve got that fancy red sports car, don’t you? I see you driving around in it.”

  “It’s a used BMW. My husband picked it up for a second car.”

  “Still, I’d love to have a convertible like that. Driving with the top down. The wind in your hair.”

  Fortunately, the tea kettle whistled. Enid’s back was to me while she poured hot water into the mugs. The distraction gave me a chance to get the conversation back on track.

  “Like I said, I’m worried about Bart. Windshield fluid bottles got dumped into our recycling bin. That liquid can be poisonous.”

  “Oops.” She spilled a little water. Grabbing a towel, she mopped it up.

/>   “I didn’t realize you lived in that big place. Of course, you said you’d just moved in, when we first met, but I didn’t know exactly which house was yours. It’s not like you invited us — or me — to come over.” She turned with the mugs in her hands. The look on her face was pretend hurt. “That wasn’t very neighborly of you.”

  I felt uncomfortable and used taking the mug to cover up my feelings. Why hadn’t I invited her to visit? Well, first of all, because my house was a disaster. Secondly, I assumed that any invitation would be an interruption of her responsibilities as Mr. Bergen’s caregiver.

  A mean voice in my head suggested another reason: I hadn’t invited her, because I didn’t like her. I hadn’t felt comfortable with Enid from the start. As I stirred sugar into my tea, my stomach twisted into a knot.

  “I didn’t invite you, because I couldn’t offer you hospitality, like this. We moved in right after construction, so there was sawdust on every surface. The place is still full of boxes, but I am making headway. I’d love to have you. What times are you available?”

  She sat back and regarded me with an unreadable face, as blank as a plain piece of copier paper. “I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.”

  “Oh, I figured you worked shifts, taking care of Mr. Bergen.”

  “Actually, it’s Dr. Bergen.” Her tone changed. There was an edge to it. “You do realize that, don’t you? He’s a very famous chemist. An important man. As for my schedule, I am free to come and go as I please. Maybe you didn’t hear our news? Talbot and I are getting married. I’ll never have to work again.” With that, she shoved her left hand my way. A honking big diamond twinkled at me.

  “Congratulations! Gee, I didn’t know. That’s big news. How exciting for you both.”

  She stared at me a bit longer, as if assessing whether I was serious or not. Once satisfied that I was sincere, her shoulders relaxed and her mouth curved into a self-satisfied smile. “It is a really big stone, isn’t it? Knocks your eyes out. Cost a bundle.”