“And you think Max is the kind of guy that wants what’s best for the community, right?”
“Absolutely—of course.” I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
“All right then, since Max voted against the expansion, he probably didn’t think it was right for the community. You following me?”
I groaned. “Yes, I’m following you.”
“So, the easiest way to stop it from coming to the council again would be to…” He dragged out the to and then paused for a moment, which I assumed was meant to add intensity to his theory.
“Max didn’t kill George Watson.”
“I’m not saying he did, Missy. But if you’re going to theorize possible scenarios, then you have consider all angles, and that keeps Max on the suspect list.” He drank some of his coffee and grimaced. “This stuff is horrible. Listen, I don’t personally think Max is guilty, but I can’t let my personal feelings override the facts.”
“Do you have facts that lead to Max being a murderer?”
“He was seen in the kitchen around the time of the murder. Even you saw him go back there.”
“Everyone used that as a cut through to the bathrooms. That doesn’t make him a killer.”
“But it’s a fact we need to investigate.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Fine. You do that.” I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
“Missy, wait. Where are you going?”
I waved my hand behind me as I jerked the door open. “Don’t worry about me. If you don’t know what I’m doing, Hayden can’t get mad at you.”
Chapter 3
Most of the main streets in town were plowed and easy to maneuver, but the side streets hadn’t been touched. I passed four intersections with cars in ditches and tow trucks working to pull them free.
Government buildings were closed, but the Chamber of Commerce wasn’t an official government program, and if I knew Cindy Truelson at all, if she could get there, she would. I headed that direction, squinting to see the road because of the sunlight bouncing off the sparkling white snow. I regretted not wearing my prescription sunglasses. At least the drive gave me a chance to focus on something other than my frustration with Justin.
I liked driving in snowy weather. Most people stayed home, so the streets were quiet, and the snow around the buildings hadn’t been disturbed. Once Thanksgiving passed, the Christmas decorations would be up, and it would be nice to have another snow fall, but I didn’t expect it. A white Christmas in Georgia was a rare occurrence.
The Chamber of Commerce building was in the middle of town, just off the main street, and next to a small assisted living facility, not very far from the police station, at least not without the slippery, snowy and icy roads. Hayden used to joke she’d put me in the assisted living place when I was old, but those jokes stopped when Sam died. The reality of the possibility took the humor out of it.
The lot wasn’t cleared, but I wasn’t concerned. Two cars were already parked up next to the building, so I pulled in and parked beside them. Before going to the police department, I’d dressed for the weather, choosing to wear my rubber garden boots and two pairs of wool socks so my feet wouldn’t slip out. I’d bundled myself in a hunter green turtleneck and a large burnt orange sweater as well as a long coat. I didn’t need the coat, so before I went into the police station, I took it off and threw it in the passenger seat.
Stacy Halstead walked into the reception area when she heard the bell on the front door ding. “Well goodness, you sure are brave.”
I stomped my boots on the small rug in front of the door and little clumps of snow fell from them. “It’s not that bad out really, and I get antsy when I’m stuck at home.” That last part wasn’t true, but it gave me an excuse to be there. “Plus, I need to run by the animal shelter, so I thought I’d come by and check on you on the way.”
“You fought the icy roads to check on me? How sweet of you, but you could have just called.”
“I know, but I’ve been in your shoes, and I thought you might need to talk about it face to face.” I had been in Stacy’s shoes. I was the one that discovered Traci Fielding’s body in the pumpkin patch of the annual Halloween festival. I felt bad for not thinking to check on her sooner.
Her cheery expression disappeared. “That’s right. I’m sorry. I forgot about that.”
“How you holding up?”
She exhaled. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I didn’t get home until late, and I was exhausted, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw poor George face down on the ground and that big carving knife stuck in his back.”
“I know. I barely slept after I found Traci, but you will. Your body will be too exhausted not to.”
“Was it bloody?”
“Excuse me?”
“What happened to her, was it bloody?”
“No. The way she died was awful, but it wasn’t bloody.”
“George wasn’t really bloody either, at least not in his back. There could have been some underneath him, though when I think about it, I’m not sure. I kept thinking about that in the ambulance. Why wasn’t there much blood?”
“I don’t really know.”
“Maybe when they pulled the knife out the blood came with it?”
I didn’t want to talk about blood anymore. “I’m surprised you didn’t go to the hospital.”
“Oh, they wanted me to, but once I got over the shock of it all, I was okay.” She walked around the reception desk and took a tissue from a box. After she blew her nose, she said, “But I’m not sure I’ll ever stop seeing his body lying there like that. Not for a long time at least.”
I didn’t tell her I saw Sam dead on the ground every time I closed my eyes for months. I hoped it would be different for her. “It gets easier. Can I ask you about what happened?”
“Not much really. I walked into the room and there he was, on the ground.”
“What made you go in that room?”
She blinked. “I needed to use the ladies’ room, and I went the wrong way. Why?”
“I wonder if that’s what George did? Maybe the doors weren’t marked well or something.” I also wondered if she and Cindy had worked out a story for the police. Could Stacy’s devotion to her boss be strong enough to cover up a murder? “So, the storage room’s down the right hallway off the main event room?”
“No, it’s off the left side. Didn’t you go to the bathroom at all last night?”
“I went through the hallway outside the big room. I didn’t know there was a short cut. So, from the kitchen, it’s what, on the right then? The bathrooms, I mean.”
“They are. I just figured I’d walk through the back side of the catwalk and cut over instead of walking across the room full of people. I hate walking in heels.”
That made sense but it didn’t explain why she’d go in the room in the first place and pick a door that wasn’t labeled with some kind of bathroom sign seemed strange to me. “Did you walk by and see George’s body?”
She pressed her lips together and exhaled through her nose. “Yes. The door was opened, and I just happened to glance inside.” Her jaw tensed. “Why are you asking me these questions, Missy?”
“I’m just curious.”
“Well, that’s all I know. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
I wanted a minute with Cindy, but my gut told me Stacy would nix that if I asked outright. “Yes. I’d uh, I’d like to become a member.”
She cocked her head. “We don’t offer personal memberships.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry, I meant for the shelter.”
She opened the reception desk drawer, pulled out a brightly colored folder, and handed it to me. “The shelter is a non-profit, yes?”
“If not, we’re in the red for sure.”
My attempt at lightening the mood failed.
“It’s $250 for a non-profit to join, and the benefits are inside, on the first paper. Application is behind that. Would you like to take it with you or fill it out
now?”
I read over the bullet pointed member benefits, and it sounded like something the shelter should be involved with. “I’ll fill it out now. Can I bring by a check later? I don’t have my checkbook with me.”
“No problem. We’re only open for a bit today though. Cindy had some meetings but those were cancelled. We just came in to catch up on a few things.”
“Oh, Cindy’s here? I’d love to say hi.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “I’ll take you back to her office.”
Cindy didn’t greet me with the same enthusiasm Stacy had, but Cindy rarely got excited about anything that didn’t personally benefit her. “Missy Kingston.” The judgment on her face evident from her raised brow and lifted corner of her mouth. “I wouldn’t expect you to be one to brave the weather.”
I wanted to say, listen lady, I’ve survived my soul mate’s death. A few icy roads won’t hurt me, but I didn’t want to appear confrontational—like her. “I wanted to check on Stacy. I’ve been in her position, and it’s hard.”
She examined my sweater, and the little upper lip curl showed up again. “Yes, well, how kind of you.”
I kept my tone cheery, like I’d completely forgotten her snooty attitude and disrespectful behavior toward me the night before. I hoped she’d forgotten about our conversation. “Oh, and I thought I’d get an application for the shelter. I can’t believe they aren’t a member already.”
“The Chamber is an excellent resource for non-profits. I’m sure it will serve you well.” She shuffled papers on her desk and pretended to read one, but it was obvious she wasn’t interested in any conversation I wanted to have.
“Cindy, I want to apologize for my words last night.” That wasn’t the truth but kill ‘em with kindness was the best strategy I had, and I wanted to see what else I could get out of her, if anything. “I wasn’t accusing you of killing George.”
She glanced up from the paper and tipped her reading glasses lower on the bridge of her nose. “Then perhaps you should reassess how you talk to others.”
I sat in the chair in front of her desk and ignored her frustrated sigh. “Last night you said you thought he was killed because of money.”
“Missy,” she slid her glasses lower on her nose. “I haven’t got the time for another class on politics and money. Why don’t you talk to your city council friend, Max? He’s well versed in the ways of the world.”
I pressed my lips together and counted to three. I would have counted to ten but, that might have given her the opportunity to tip me over the edge or kick me out. “And you said he padded people’s pockets.”
“Where are you going with this, Missy?” She pressed her lips into a thin straight line and glared at me. “I’ve already told you I had nothing to do with George’s death.”
“Yes, I know, and I apologized for making you feel I thought you might have.” I turned off my cheery tune and just went for it. “This isn’t about you. George only needed one more vote to get the approval, correct?”
“Yes.”
“What if he decided to pay off a council member to get it?”
“Someone else could change their mind and vote it down.”
“But he’d have a shot.”
“Well, yes, of course he would.” Her tone lightened.
“Do you know many construction companies there are in town that could handle that kind of job?”
She pushed her glasses up to her eyes again and typed on her computer. “I know about every business in this town, and there is only one that could do a job that big.”
“Shaw.”
“But there are countless other companies in the metro area.”
“Yes, but I’d assume the city would want to keep it as local as possible.
“Possibly, if the price were right, but it doesn’t matter. Shaw refused to work with George. He told me that himself last night. I told him he was killing his own business with decisions like that.”
Bits of my conversation with Justin clouded my thoughts. Was my theory a stretch? Possibly. It depended on Turner Shaw doing things that might be out of character for him, or at least the character he’d wanted others to think he had. But I couldn’t let it go. “Were you at the council meeting when they voted the expansion down?”
“I go to every meeting.”
“Did they mention anything about the shelter’s budget?”
“The city funds the shelter, but only to a small degree. Most of the funding comes from outside support.”
That worked against my theory. “I see.”
“But from what I understand, they have enough funding to add the extra space without George.” She moved a pile of papers on the credenza behind her to the center of her desk. Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to get done. The snow doesn’t stop the chamber of commerce.”
“Of course.” I held up the application folder. “I’ll go ahead and fill this out at home and bring it back with a check in a few days.”
“Lovely.”
Non-profit’s are required to publicly disclose their financials. I’d learned that when I signed on to be a volunteer at the shelter. I’d provided such a substantial donation, they voted me onto the board, and we all had access to the documents submitted to the IRS. The information for the women’s shelter would tell me the donors, but I’d have to find a way to get a hold of it. I needed to know if George’s up to a million was already on the books. If it wasn’t, there might not be enough for the expansion, and my theory would be even harder to prove. Before I did that, I needed to go to the shelter.
The best thing about winter storms in Georgia was that whatever did manage to stick to the roads usually melted with the rising sun, Snowmageddon the exception. Last night’s winter storm slowly disappeared with the rising sun and warmer temperatures. More people braved the supposed treacherous roads and even a few stores and restaurants opened. The coffee shop I’d been to earlier opened, and I grabbed a spread of scones, biscuits, and Danishes for everyone that made it to the shelter. I had something for the dogs too, but I always had something for them stored in my car. The few who’d been there a while expected the treats and were waiting for me at the front of their cages when I walked in.
Walking into the dog area filled me with mixed emotions. I loved their echoed hellos—bursts of barking, howling, and excited whines, but I hated seeing so many dogs without homes. I’d often thought about selling my place and building a smaller house on the land we’d bought in the mountains, to adopt as many dogs as I could and be the crazy dog lady. I just wasn’t quite ready to give up the home Sam and I made together. Enclosed in its walls was our life together, our family, and too many memories to just walk away.
Kerry Pitman, a shelter volunteer, scrubbed the floor of a cage. “Hey, you’re just in time to take them out to the turf area with me.” She had to yell over the barks and howls. “I’m almost done here.”
I walked to the cage beside her, pet the dog, and gave her a treat. “Oh, that’ll be fun! I bet a lot have never been in snow before.”
She put the scrub brush in the bucket and peeled off her yellow rubber gloves. “I know. I’m kind of excited about it, too.”
She wasn’t the only one. “How many newbies do we have?”
“We didn’t get any this past week.” She knocked on the wall. “Maybe it’s a new trend.”
“Then let’s not talk about it. I don’t want to curse it.”
The dogs that struggled being around other pups took up a small section of the kennel area. We’d try bringing them out with the rest of the pups, slowly integrating each for a bit, but we’d also take them out individually on their own. I’d been working hard to socialize them, and of the four, only one still consistently struggled.
I walked out a dog as Kerry retrieved another volunteer to help bring out the rest. I’d stayed outside, rubbing my arms to keep them warm.
I might have thought I didn’t need my coat earlier, but it was different being outside for more th
an a few seconds. When Kerry brought a dog, I asked if she’d grab my jacket from my car.
“Sure. I’ll be right back.”
We decided to work on some training after the pups played in the melting snow. Dogs didn’t just need play time, they needed intellectual stimulation, and to feel like they’d accomplished something, and we worked hard to provide those for them. Happy, adjusted dogs were adoptable dogs.
The training idea flew out the window as each dog frolicked in the snow, paying no mind to any directions we attempted to give, only enjoying the smushy, foreign white stuff on the ground. Their excitement and curiosity took over. They galloped and hopped and jumped, and we had a shelter full of dogs out there tasting snow and playing like puppies.
Under the crunchy layer of ice, the snow was thick and wet enough for snowballs, so we made a bunch and threw them around for the dogs. Many tried to catch them, most tried to eat them, and some searched for them in the snow, rolling around in it to claim the lost ball as their own. Kerry chased Ruger, a German Shepherd mix, tripped over Georgie, a big mutt of a dog with a good dose of St. Bernard, and landed flat on her bum. Ruger saw, turned around, rushed to her, and proceeded to shower her face with kisses. A few other dogs joined in, and though Kerry tried to roll away, she eventually gave in to the kiss fest. It’s impossible to deny that kind of love.
It took us thirty minutes to wipe the dogs down and remove the sticky snowballs from some of their underbellies.
“That was a blast,” Kerry said. She’d taken a clean cloth and wiped off her face. “I need another shower, but it was worth it.”
We admired the dogs in their cages. “They’re exhausted,” I said.
“It’s a fun kind of exhaustion though.”
I stuck my bottom lip out like Hayden used to do as a baby. “I know, but they deserve so much more.”
We’d worked so hard to adopt out as many dogs as possible, but with the high rate of turn ins, getting the shelter to even one day of no dogs seemed impossible. Mary warned me not to expect that kind of miracle, but I’d made it my goal. Just one day without any dogs.
Hounds, Harvest, and Homicide Page 5
