Killer Deadline

by Lauren Carr

  With a sigh, Julie tossed the paper towel into the trash. “I know when I’m beat.”

  With a squeal of delight, the child and Elmo trotted off.

  Julie filled a flute from the fountain. “You must be really excited about starting this whole new chapter of your life.” She clinked her glass against Nikki’s. “All these years, you’ve been working for other people—”

  “Soaking up the secrets of success from the best people in the television networking business,” Nikki said.

  “Now you’re the boss.” Julie took a sip of her drink and frowned. “I hope after spending all these years working in New York, Washington, and Las Vegas that Pine Grove doesn’t bore you to death.”

  “You can always find excitement. You just need to know where to look for it.”

  “Watch it,” Julie said in a firm tone, “or you’re going to end up like Dad.”

  Startled by the reminder, Nikki regarded Julie with a firm glare.

  Julie softened and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’ve missed having a sister.”

  As she pulled away, Nikki glanced over to where Ryan was chatting with Ashleigh. Her husband, a football player with the Pittsburgh Steelers had joined them. “But you have had a brother.”

  “Stepbrother,” Julie whispered. “Ryan isn’t into girls’ night. Besides, he’s a workaholic. That’s why he lives here with Mom and Harrison. He works such long hours that he only comes home to sleep, eat, and do his laundry.”

  “So he has no girlfriend?”

  Julie almost spit into her champagne. Her jaw dropped open. Her hand landed on her hip.

  Nikki’s face turned bright red. Her tone had been dripping with hope.

  Julie waved a finger at her. “You’ve never stopped liking him,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Is that one of the reasons why you never came back home? You were ashamed of yourself for blowing it with Ryan.”

  “He’s my brother. That is so creepy.”

  “Step-brother. Not blood relations. Oh, you always had a thing for Ryan—in a twisted, psychotic sort of way.” Julie giggled. “I remember the very first time we found out about Ryan. You were ten years old. You had stolen his softball mitt.” Her giggle turned into laughter.

  Nikki cringed.

  “You refused to give him back his mitt until he kissed you. He refused and went home without his mitt. That night, Harrison found out about this kid Nikki who had stolen his son’s mitt. He thought you were some big neighborhood bully and came to talk to Dad about it.” She suppressed a squeal. “I still remember seeing his jaw drop when he saw you were this little girl holding his son’s baseball mitt hostage for a kiss.”

  Julie’s laughter escaped to draw Ashleigh’s, Conner’s, and Ryan’s attention.

  “Just sharing fun memories,” Nikki said. “continue on.”

  “Nothing to see here,” Julie said with muffled amusement.

  Nikki watched Ashleigh brush her hand down Ryan’s arm while her husband stood only a couple of feet away.

  “You are aware that you are now her boss,” Julie whispered to her. “You can fire her.”

  With a heavy sigh, Nikki shook her head. “Ashleigh signed a five-year contract right before Mom announced her retirement.” She flicked her eyes in the direction of the living room where Kathleen was chatting with Ashleigh’s mother. “I think Camille gave Ashleigh a heads-up to renew her contract before I came back.”

  “I’d hate to be you.” Upon seeing another guest sashay to the bar nearby to refill her wineglass, Julie lowered her voice. “You’re going to be stuck with high maintenance Ashleigh for the next five years.

  “Ah, don’t worry about me,” Nikki said while eying her childhood nemesis. “Contracts can be broken.”

  “How?”

  A slim grin crossed Nikki’s lips. “Death always works.”

  The outburst of a loud high-pitched titter caused them to jump and turn around.

  Nikki was struck by the familiarity of the older, well-dressed woman. She wore thick make-up to conceal the age fighting to reveal itself behind massive botox treatments. Her body was exceedingly thin. If anyone needed one of Trudy’s sandwiches, it was her.

  Nikki squinted while attempting to place a name with the face.

  “Suzanne Lipton,” Julie whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Host of Get Up PA.”

  “I was anchor of the six o’clock news back in the day,” Suzanne said. “About the time you blew this burg for Washington.” She pronounced “burg” with a slur that sounded like “bird.”

  “Before Ashleigh,” Nikki said.

  Suzanne tossed her head as if to jerk her hair back behind her shoulder. Unfortunately, her hair was too stiff to move. “The morning show is more convenient for me. I find I can cut loose and have more fun with our guests.” With narrowed eyes, she glared past Nikki to Ashleigh. “The morning crew isn’t as uptight.” She stumbled when she turned on her heel to return to the living room. Luckily, she fell into the arms of Wyatt, the station’s general manager, who had followed her.

  “Easy, Suzanne.” Grasping her by the arms, he steadied her.

  “I’m fine.” The on-air personality pulled away. “This floor is uneven.” Over her shoulder, she told Nikki, “You should get that fixed.” She stumbled out of the kitchen.

  “Nikki.” Wyatt stepped forward take her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.” He pulled back and looked her up and down. “Ross would be so proud of you.”

  “Thank you, Wyatt,” Nikki murmured. “Mom told me that you’ve moved up from executive producer to general manager.”

  “For now.” Wyatt Altman smiled. “I’ll remain as long as you’ll have me. You know me. I’ve been with WKPG my entire adult life. Your grandfather hired us both as set hands. I was the sound director for the morning show right out of high school.”

  “Nikki,” a broad-shouldered man with his salt-and-pepper hair cut in a military-style cut crossed the kitchen to interrupt them. He held out his hands to take Nikki into a hug. “Your mother had said you were taking over the station. Funny, I still see you as that rambunctious monkey who used to tag along with your father and me on our fishing trips. You kept scaring away the fish.”

  The mention of fishing clued Nikki to his identity. Sheriff Daniel Van Metre. He had retired many years earlier. His plaid button-down shirt was evidence of that. “Your momma’s been bragging about all the awards you’ve been racking up as an investigative journalist.”

  “Did you hear about Nikki solving the disappearance of Natalie Fleming, the movie star?” Julie asked in a loud voice while throwing her arm across her sister’s shoulders and squeezing them.

  “Do I look like I’ve been living under a rock?” Daniel responded with a laugh.

  “I got lucky,” Nikki demurred. “I’d purchased an old steamer trunk at an auction and found some letters inside. They ended up being from Natalie Fleming’s housekeeper. Every source has claimed that she had been working there the night that Natalie walked out and was never seen again. But these letters indicated that someone else was there—a man Natalie had gotten into a fight with and that the housekeeper was afraid of. Once I put together the clues in the letters, I figured out that the man was Buddy Seavers, the mobster. From there, I followed the trail to the descendants of his late confidants. I got lucky. The killer’s grandson revealed an old family secret about where Seavers had them hide her body. Buddy Seavers had killed her when she ended their relationship. It was a known secret in the mob. Buddy wanted it to get around to send the message that no one walked out on Buddy Seavers.”

  Debra, who had drifted into the kitchen, said, “I guess after fifty years and with Buddy long gone, it was safe to dig up the case of a Las Vegas legend.”

  “I hate to sound immodest, but I think my sis may even have Sam Hi
ll beat,” Julie said.

  “Hey, Old Sam put WKPG News on the map,” Wyatt said. “He made WKPG News the most decorated news station in the state.”

  “I thought I’d put WKPG News on the map,” Suzanne said with a pout.

  “Old Sam retired over twenty years ago. It’s time the station got some new blood—even if it is Nikki,” Ashleigh said with a sneer.

  “Maybe while I’m injecting new blood into the WKPG-TV, I can dig up Dad’s killer.”

  “Nikki,” Julie chastised her in a soft voice. “Daniel has never given up on Dad’s case.”

  “You have to believe me when I tell you, Nikki, your father’s murder is more than just a case,” Daniel said. “I lost one of my best friends when he was murdered.”

  “Someone had to have sneaked into the station and done it,” Debra said.

  “But WKPG was a small friendly operation back then,” Nikki said. “Wouldn’t you have noticed someone you didn’t know strolling through the station?”

  “We were all busy getting ready for the six o’clock news,” Wyatt said. “I remember it was a busy news day. I just can’t believe that anyone we knew would have done that to a good man like Ross Bryant.” He nodded in Debra’s direction to ask for her to confirm his assessment. “It had to be a stranger.”

  Nikki observed Daniel rubbing his chin. Uncomfortable under her gaze, he shifted to the side, which provided her with a clear view into the living room.

  She caught sight of a small bald-headed man with an ornate cane sitting on the loveseat with a dark-haired woman she judged to be approximately her mother’s age. Nikki’s eyes grew wide. “What’s he doing here?”

  Julie saw the object of Nikki’s growing anger. “Greta Wheeler is Mom’s friend. She’s chair of the arts council.”

  “I’m talking about the man next to her on the loveseat.”

  “That’s Art Lowell, Greta’s father.”

  “Art Lowell has been trying to ruin WKPG-TV for years,” Nikki said. “He’s our competitor.”

  “You still have to maintain a cordial business relationship,” Julie said. “It’s called professional courtesy.”

  “Courtesy?” Nikki scoffed. “Art did everything except blow our station up to try to bully Dad into selling the station to him.” She eyed Daniel who was watching them with curiosity. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we found out that he’d killed Dad because he assumed Mom would sell the station to him.”

  “I remember you telling me that back then,” the retired sheriff said. “I’d checked it out. Lowell had an air-tight alibi. He was speaking at a business symposium an hour away in Pittsburgh.”

  “Daniel, did you check for a money trail?” Wyatt asked. “Art would never get his hands dirty. He’d pay someone to do the dirty work while he was at the symposium.”

  “Lowell has and had the biggest station in the western half of the state,” the retired sheriff said. “Back then, WKPG-TV was small potatoes. Why would Lowell risk everything to commit murder to acquire WKPG-TV?”

  “Daniel has a point,” Julie said.

  “That is one ugly dog.” Ashleigh’s cruel laugh drew Nikki’s attention from where she was glaring at Daniel.

  Nikki stepped into the dining room where she saw that Elmo, wearing a black bow tie, had decided to introduce himself to Ryan. She wondered who had put the bow tie on him. A wink from her mother answered that question.

  It was bad enough that Ashleigh was ogling Ryan with her professional football player husband right next to her. But when she called Elmo “ugly,” the Momma Bear in Nikki reared up. Before Nikki could reassign Ashleigh Addison from the anchor desk to the frog-jumping contest beat, Ryan knelt next to Elmo and scratched the dog’s white chest.

  “Didn’t you hear, Ashleigh? Ugly is the new beautiful.”

  Nikki stopped.

  Ugly is the new beautiful? That was Elmo’s tag line in his profile on social media. Ryan must have seen it.

  Ryan confirmed her deduction.

  “Elmo and I are friends,” he told Ashleigh and Conner while rubbing Elmo’s chest and scratching his ears. “Aren’t we, big guy?”

  Elmo greeted Ryan with a lick that left his face coated in dog drool.

  “He’s proof that there are many faces to beauty,” Ryan said. “Elmo has over a hundred thousand followers.”

  “That’s twice what you have,” Conner told Ashleigh, who scowled at the news.

  “I’d adopted Elmo in Vegas,” Nikki said. “His human was an elderly woman who picked him up at a park. He was the last one in a litter of pups, the runt. She watched a bunch of dog training videos to learn how to train him and discovered that he was extremely smart.”

  “How smart is he?” Becca, who had elbowed her way to the front of the party guests, asked.

  A slim grin crossed Nikki’s lips. “Elmo.”

  Elmo looked up at Nikki.

  “Get my phone.”

  Elmo gazed up at her without moving.

  “Yeah, I can see how smart he is,” Ashleigh said. “Talk about seventy pounds of loose skin and dog drool.”

  There was a nervous titter among the party goers.

  The corner of Nikki’s mouth turned upward. “Elmo, I’m sorry. That was very rude of me. Can you get my phone, please?”

  Immediately, Elmo stood up and sniffed around the kitchen. He continued sniffing around until he ended up in the hallway. Necks craned to watch the dog trot down the hallway to the foyer where they had entered the house.

  Elmo’s ears perked up when he picked up the scent of the phone. His pace quickened as he galloped up the stairs to the second floor. A moment later, the dog hurried down the back stairs with the cell phone in his mouth.

  The guests cleared a path for him to Nikki, where he sat in front of her. She reached down for the phone only to have Elmo jerk his head away.

  The dog cocked his head and looked up at her.

  “Thank you, Elmo.” She held out her hand and Elmo dropped the phone into her palm. “Mom always insisted that we say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’,” she said while wiping the drool off the phone.

  There was a round of applause throughout the house.

  “Elmo can also open doors, close doors. Load the dishwasher. Put dirty clothes into the washing machine,” Ryan said. “You should see the videos on his social media page.”

  “He even runs the vacuum cleaner,” Kathleen said. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t do windows.”

  “No, but he can climb a ladder,” Nikki said. “I didn’t teach him. His previous human taught him to do all of that.”

  “How did you end up with him?” Becca asked.

  “She was a murder victim. The victim’s sister said that the killer had locked Elmo in a closet. Elmo hadn’t mastered picking locks. When the police got nowhere, the victim’s sister came into the station and asked me to look into the case. They’d assumed robbery was a motive because the victim had an envelope with thousands of dollars in a drawer in her dresser. The money was gone. Elmo had landed in a shelter because the sister’s landlord didn’t allow pets and the victim’s son-in-law was highly allergic to dogs. No one in the family could take him in. I knew Elmo was a witness, and the sister had told me about how smart he was. When I found him, he was so depressed. He looked horrible. So, I adopted him—just in time for the funeral. I took him to the graveside service. It was a long-shot, but I wanted to see if Elmo could identify the killer. I was right. Immediately, he bit the victim’s grandson in the butt.”

  “He’d decided to take a bite out of crime, huh?” Becca said with a laugh.

  Nikki nodded while patting Elmo on the head. “The police said that was not enough to get a warrant. But it was enough to make the victim’s daughter suspicious. She had never seen Elmo so aggressive. She went searching through her son’s things and found the bank envelope that h
er mother had kept her money in. It was empty and there were drops of blood on it. She turned her own son into the police.”

  Harrison stepped up behind Wyatt to tap him on the shoulder. He spoke to him in a low voice. “Sorry to bother you, Wyatt, but Suzanne seems to be getting into some trouble in the game room.”

  As Wyatt hurried away, Harrison said, “All Lucy and Ethel have ever done is scare the inn’s guests.”

  The guests focused on the pair of cats playing tug of war with a rubber mouse. Upon becoming aware of unwanted attention directed at them, Lucy uttered a growl from deep in her thin chest.

  “Elmo has quite a following online,” Ryan said. “He’s been photographed with practically every celebrity who’s gone through Vegas.”

  “After I reported his story about how he’d identified his human’s killer, he became a celebrity,” Nikki said. “Everyone wanted to meet him. I set up his social media account. I’d take him everywhere, because that was what his other human used to do. At the station, guests would meet him, and I’d take their picture and post it on his page. Then, the marketing folks at the station noticed a trend. When I posted a picture of Elmo with a guest, there would be a bigger viewing audience.”

  “You should do that here,” Conner told Ashleigh with a grin.

  “Do what?” Ashleigh asked with wide eyes. Her face turned white.

  “Have your picture taken with Elmo and post it on the internet.” Conner smoothed his hair and tucked in his shirt. “You can slap his picture on the station’s website with a banner saying, ‘WKPG-TV welcomes Elmo to the family.’” He whipped out his phone and held it out to Nikki. “Take our picture so I can put it on my social media page. This’ll be great for my image.” He grabbed his glass and wrapped an arm around Elmo.

  Half-camera hog, Elmo leaned in next to Conner. Elmo loved having his picture taken. His generous jowls seemed to naturally turn upward when he saw a phone aimed at him.

  The two of them posed for Nikki to take the picture.

  “Come on, dear,” Conner urged his wife. “Have your picture taken with Elmo.”