by Ally Roberts
I froze mid-step. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t go up there.” She wrinkled her nose. “He…he already has a lady friend visiting right now.”
She said this in a derogatory, judgmental way, and I bit back a smile. “Oh, that’s Betsy Lewis. She’s a reporter with the Gazette. She’s just here doing an interview with John.”
“An interview? About what?”
“The doggy daycare John is opening,” I told her.
Mrs. Dubois’s forehead creased with a frown. “All this racket, people coming and going,” she groused. “I have to say, I’m actually looking forward to John moving out.”
I knew this was an absolute falsehood. She’d told me as much. But I just nodded and tried to give her a sympathetic look. “Have you found a new tenant yet?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “No.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure the right person will come along.”
“I’m still thinking it might be you,” Mrs. Dubois said.
The smile on my lips disappeared. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not looking for a place to live.”
Not yet, anyway. But even if I were, the apartment Mrs. Dubois had to offer would be at the bottom of my list. There was nothing wrong with the accommodations, but there was no way I could have her as a landlord. She was far too nosy and much too judgmental, and I knew living there would be an exercise in frustration.
“I saw your dad the other day,” she said.
I braced myself for whatever news she might have to share. “Did you?” I murmured.
“He said he’s about to close on Caroline’s house. Should be happening any day.”
I nodded.
“He also said he has a couple more clients almost lined up. You know, with houses to sell. Sounds like business is going well for him, don’t you think?”
I recognized the code word immediately.
Almost.
My dad used it often, as a way to express things he wanted to happen. More often than not, those things failed to materialize.
In this case, the fact that he said ‘almost’ told me he actually had none. No new clients to speak of.
I thought about this for a minute. I knew things could go one of two ways for me in this current scenario: my dad could either give up on the real estate business—which I could see him doing, because he’d made a career out of bouncing from job to job—or he could go harder after my grandmother’s house because that would be a sure thing in terms of having another property to sell.
I swallowed. When I saw him the other day outside of Caroline’s house, he’d made a point of asking me what my exit strategy was. I didn’t have one, because I didn’t want to exit my grandma’s house. I liked living there.
Unfortunately, Dad liked the idea of selling it and reaping the rewards of selling such a house. It was in pristine condition, in one of the most desirable neighborhoods on the island. We all knew it would sell within days, if not hours.
Of course, Mom would have to agree to sell, and so far she she’d been firm in her opposition. Having me come running home with my tail tucked between my legs, divorced and penniless and with nowhere to live, had given her the perfect opportunity to hold off my dad in his constant badgering. I knew she wanted me to succeed and to get back on my feet, but she wasn’t in any hurry for me to move out because the pressure to sell would be back on.
I tried to shake the thoughts from my head. Now was not the time to hash out a plan about Grandma’s house and my dad’s desire to sell it. Especially since I didn’t have a clue as to what my plan should be.
The only thing I did know was that I was standing at the foot of John’s stairs because I wanted to find out more information about Jonah’s missing money. And there was someone in his apartment who might be able to help.
Mrs. Dubois cleared her throat. “And how is your little business going, dear?”
“It’s fine,” I told her. “Going well, actually.” I tried smiling again, knowing full well it wasn’t reaching my eyes. “I’m going to head up. It was nice seeing you.”
She sniffed. “I sure hope you’re right about what they’re doing up there. Things could get…awkward.”
I just nodded and hurried up the stairs. I knocked on the door, and John’s dogs answered in a chorus of barks. Heavy footsteps approached the door. John must still have his work boots on.
The door opened just a crack and two black noses poked outside, sniffing furiously at my knee.
“Wendy.” John’s surprise was evident. He opened the door wider and both Winston and Hutch launched themselves at me. Winston was a beautiful, purebred Weimaraner and Hutch was the muttiest mutt I’d ever seen, even more so than Trixie. Wiry fur, with a body built like a beagle but a curly plume of a tail like that of a Siberian husky.
I crouched down. “Hey, guys.” Two tongues lathered my face with kisses.
“This is a nice surprise,” John said.
I straightened. “Sorry to barge in on you. I heard from Tate that Betsy is here.”
John’s brow creased. “She is. She’s writing an article about Happy Hounds.”
“Is that the name you settled on?” He’d been running through potential names for the past week, with a huge sheet of butcher paper tacked up on one of the walls at his soon-to-be daycare. At last count, there had been about forty options he was considering.
He nodded. “You like it? Happy Hounds Hotel & Daycare? And just Happy Hounds for short.”
“I love it.”
It was catchy, and I liked the alliteration. I was sure Poppy wouldn’t be pleased, and would probably accuse him of copying her idea for Poppy’s Puppy Palace. Would probably tell him the use of alliteration was proprietary or something. I chuckled to myself at the thought.
John ushered me inside. Betsy was sitting at the kitchen table with both a laptop and a notebook spread out in front of her. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and there was a pen tucked behind her ear, even though she was holding one in her hand. She smiled when she saw me.
“I hate to interrupt,” I told her. “I just…I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions about an article you wrote.”
She looked surprised. “Uh, sure.”
John had moved into the kitchen. “You want something to drink? A beer or something?”
I shook my head. “I’m good.”
I sat down across from Betsy. She was looking at me curiously. I didn’t blame her. It wasn’t like she was turning out hard-hitting investigative pieces at the local paper. Most of her articles focused on local news—which was usually not terribly exciting—or features pieces.
“The student loan debt article you did.”
She waited.
“I didn’t get a chance to read it but my mom told me you interviewed someone for the piece.”
Betsy pushed at her glasses, readjusting them. “I interviewed quite a few people.”
“Sure,” I said, nodding. “But she mentioned someone named Carmen was featured in the article.”
“Yes, Carmen Diggs,” Betsy said. “She works at The Perfect Catch.”
A ray of hope blossomed inside of me.
My mom had been right about the person named in the article.
Now all I had to do was find out everything I could from Betsy Lewis.
Because I had a feeling she held the necessary clues to determining whether Carmen was the one who had stolen Jonah’s life savings.
TWENTY
I finished reading through the student loan article, making mental notes as I did so.
Betsy had pulled her copy of the article up on her computer and I’d sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through the piece. It was a thorough, well-done article about the student loan debt crisis and how local islanders were responding to their own personal situations of loan debt. She delved into the process of loan deferment and consolidation, two things I had become familiar with, and also discussed the pros and cons of paying off debt ea
rly if an individual was in a position to do so. From there, she’d segued into Carmen’s story and other islanders and their approach to their loan debt.
I tried to commit all the details of Carmen’s story to memory. How she’d started out at an exclusive private college and had accumulated a significant amount of debt right out of the gate. How she’d eventually transferred to one of the USC campuses and completed her degree there, but how her debt had weighed heavily on her. She’d decided a year earlier that she wanted to be free of it and had taken on a multitude of second jobs and side hustles to get it done. In the article, she’d told Betsy that she had just under five thousand dollars left to pay off, and that she’d be debt-free by the end of the year.
But there was one thing missing from the article.
“What kind of jobs did she do to get the money?” I asked.
Betsy was in the middle of talking to John; they’d moved into the living room area so she could continue her interview with him.
She glanced up at me, and I could tell she hadn’t heard my question.
“Carmen talks about picking up second jobs and side hustles, but she doesn’t say what she did.”
“She gave lots of examples,” Betsy said. “House sitting, reselling stuff, dog walking and pet sitting.” She gave me a pointed look.
“No, I read all that,” I said. “But she just offered those up as ideas, not ones that she necessarily did.”
Betsy frowned. “I don’t know. I just assumed she was listing things she herself had done.”
John stood up. “I better get these dogs out.” Winston and Hutch both got to their feet and trotted obediently to the door. He didn’t even leash them up, just opened the door and they followed him out and down the steps. If I did that with Trixie, I was sure she’d take off running, not to be seen until the next day.
I turned my attention back to Betsy. “Did she talk about jobs she specifically has done?”
She thought for a moment. “Not that I can recall, no. I could go through my notes and see. Maybe I just didn’t include them in the article? We have pretty strict word counts.”
“I could look through them,” I offered. “Your notes, I mean.”
“Why are you so interested?” Betsy asked.
It was a fair question. Obviously, I didn’t want to give her the real reason as to why I was poking around, asking questions about Carmen Diggs.
Betsy came up with an answer on her own. “Oh, is this because you’re looking for other job opportunities?” She gave me a sympathetic look. “Is the dog walking not going well? I’ve seen your flyers everywhere around town…”
“No, things are fine,” I said, a little flustered. “I just…I’d love to hear how she specifically pulled herself out of debt. I have quite a bit of my own that I’m dealing with.”
Betsy nodded. “Me, too. Although I have to say, I don’t think it’s necessary to try to pay it off. There are some benefits to carrying around that type of debt, you know?”
I did know. She’d gone through a good explainer in her article. And I didn’t want to debate the merits of whether or not I should pay off my student loans.
I just wanted information about Carmen.
“I could just talk to her directly,” I suggested. “You know, so you don’t have to do anything. I’m sure you have a lot on your plate with current assignments.”
“I do.” She flashed me a grateful smile. “And I think that’s a great idea.”
I drummed my fingers on the kitchen table. “The only thing is, I don’t have any contact information for her…Maybe you could give me her contact info?”
Betsy shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “I don’t know if that’s a great idea. You know, privacy stuff and all that.” Her expression lit up. “Oh! But you could talk to her on Tuesday. She always goes to The Cupcakery. I quoted that in the article.”
I nodded. I knew that piece of information, and I’d already gone that route. The problem was, it was only Wednesday and I didn’t want to wait an entire week to talk to her again. I couldn’t. Jonah was already chomping at the bit for someone to hold accountable.
I thought for a minute. I could ask Jonah for Carmen’s number and address. As her former employer, he would certainly have that info.
But I didn’t want to tip him off that I was back to looking at Carmen, especially when I didn’t have concrete proof that she was the one responsible for the theft. His reaction to thinking it was Gunther left no doubt in my mind that I couldn’t include him in the process of hashing out evidence and potential scenarios. His temper was much too volatile for that.
Betsy picked up her can of soda and drained the rest of it. “Do you happen to know where the restroom is?”
I pointed down the hall. “I think it’s the first door on the left.”
She got to her feet. “I’m going to go use it now while John is out with the dogs.”
She disappeared down the hallway and I listened as the door closed and the lock clicked into place.
And then I made my decision.
Betsy might not feel comfortable giving me Carmen’s information, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t get it anyway.
I glanced back at her laptop computer. The screen had gone dark so I tapped on the mouse pad to bring it back to life. I minimized the article I’d been looking at and then opened the Finder. I typed in Carmen’s name. Less than a second later, a list of hits popped up.
Including an entry in Betsy’s contacts.
I clicked it.
Carmen Diggs address, phone number and email were listed in the appropriate fields. I yanked my phone from my pocket and snapped a quick picture, then quickly closed the screen. I reopened the student loan article just as the bathroom door opened.
As soon as Betsy walked back into the living room, I stood up. “I guess I should get going,” I said.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” Betsy said.
I smiled. “You were a great help.”
She frowned. “I was?”
“More than you could possibly know.”
TWENTY ONE
I was out early the next morning, but not to go and see Carmen.
Unfortunately, my conversation with her had to wait.
Instead, I was on my way to pick up Duke. Asher had called the night before as I was walking home from John’s, and had asked if I’d mind a houseguest for the next day or two. Business was taking him out of town and he didn’t want to board Duke if he didn’t have to. He’d quoted an obscene amount of money to take care of him—which I’d tried to refuse, but he was insistent—so I’d gone to Asher’s office to pick him up.
The dogs and I were walking back home when we ran into Rudy, who was out with his own dog. I didn’t blame him for getting a walk in early that day. It was just shy of eight o’clock but the heat was already building, and both dogs with me already had lolling tongues. I had no doubt it was going to be another scorcher.
“Morning,” I said.
“Oh, good morning.” Rudy smiled nervously, and pulled Dempsey closer to his side. “Out for an early walk?”
I nodded at Duke. “Just picking up this guy. He’s staying with me for a couple of days.”
Rudy’s eyebrows lifted. “You do boarding?”
“Well, not really,” I said. “But Asher asked if I wouldn’t mind keeping him. I see Duke so often, he’s like a nephew.”
“But he’s just a dog.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I consider Trixie to be a member of my family.” I glanced at Dempsey. “You don’t think of him that way?”
Rudy looked down at the basset hound by his feet. His expression softened. “I guess so. But he’s my dog, not someone else’s. And he’s not big and scary.” His gaze shifted to Duke and he actually shivered.
I chuckled. Duke was a black lab, not a Great Dane or some other enormous breed. “Duke is the sweetest dog. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Rudy nodded at Trixie. “She’s big, too
. And scary looking.”
I could see how people might think Trixie was a little scary. She had some German shepherd features, the perked up ears and the black and brown muzzle, but anyone who had the most basic of interactions with her would know she was all bark and no bite. Well, maybe except with Poppy Ritter…
“Both of these dogs are sweethearts,” I told him.
He was standing on the other side of the sidewalk and I noticed he took a step toward the grass to try and put a little more distance between him and my two dogs. For once, his nervousness actually seemed genuine, and I felt a twinge of sympathy for him.
I tightened the dogs’ leashes. “We should get going. I have someplace I need to be this morning.”
He breathed a visible sigh of relief. “Me, too,” he said. But he made no move to continue walking. Instead, he snapped his fingers and said, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Oh?”
“I was wondering how you got started with your business.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, how did you decide that’s what you wanted to do?” He licked his lips and looked warily at the dogs. He took a step further onto the grass. “I’ve been wanting to start up my own business. Just a side job. What do they call those? Gigs? Hustles?”
“I think any of those work,” I said.
“Yeah, I read that article in the paper the other day,” he said. “I don’t have any student loan debt, but there was a good list of ways to make extra money. I’d sort of just like to be my own boss, you know?”
I could appreciate that. With the number of jobs I’d had over the years, I’d had my fair share of horrible bosses along with the good ones. There was something nice about not having to answer to anyone but yourself. However, if there was a boss, there was also the comfort in knowing that someone else was responsible for running the business and paying your salary. Not everything fell to you.
“I just don’t know what kind of business I’d even open,” Rudy lamented.
I tried to be patient. I just wanted to get home so I could drop the dogs off and go see Carmen. But it was clear that Rudy needed to talk. I had a feeling that Dempsey might be his only source of companionship, and even though it could be comforting to sit and talk to a dog, it wasn’t exactly a two-way conversation.
