Groomer Has It

by Katie Hagen

  Peter looked at Charlie with his muddy paws and a string of drool dripping from his black fuzzy chin. I knew what he was thinking. Vicki Perring would not want him in her house. But would that matter if she was hurt? Or worse?

  Peter seemed to consider the same options because he took off his jacket and sunk to the floor, quickly wiping the dog’s paws and face before coming inside.

  “I guess we’re both in this now,” he laughed lightly. “Unless you want to go out front and wait for the police? I called in a welfare check…just in case.”

  I looked into the hair-filled back yard. The rain was coming down harder, and the sky seemed so much darker than before. Distant thunder rumbled.

  From somewhere deeper in the house, Picklepuss whined.

  I couldn’t abandon a dog in distress. “No, I’m sure it’s fine. She’s probably just afraid of the thunder. I’ll bet Vicki isn’t even home.”

  Peter looked at me doubtfully.

  Somewhere in the distance we heard sirens.

  I thought about waiting for them but instead I walked through the doorway. If she was, in fact, home then something was definitely wrong. I’d worked as an extra on enough medical shows to know that in emergency situations every second counts.

  Peter and Charlie came through behind me and I noticed the glint of a knife in Peter’s hand. He must have grabbed it off of the counter. I felt a chill go down my spine as I looked over the massive living room.

  Three leather couches faced a large gas fireplace. A huge wooden mantel was hung above it, covered in pictures of Vicki and her dogs and other faces that I assumed were family. The curtains were drawn closed along the front wall of the house and the lights were off.

  “Picklepuss?” I felt the need to whisper. The air felt too still in the room and it smelled increasingly of wet dog the further we moved inward.

  Peter and I stood shoulder to shoulder listening to the thunder and the thunderous panting of Charlie. Suddenly a face popped up from the back of the couch.

  Three things happened at once. The knife Peter was holding clanged to the ground, startling Charlie which made him spin and rip the leash from Peter’s other hand. Finally, I screamed.

  By the time I realized it was Picklepuss jumping up and not some hairy silver monster, I had nearly fainted. Lightheaded, I leaned my hands on the back of the couch. Picklepuss licked my cheek.

  Peter rubbed his hand on my back, “Are you ok?” I thought I detected the hint of a laugh. Sure. Laughter from the man who just dropped our only weapon out of fear.

  I opened my eyes and scooped up Picklepuss before noticing Charlie sniffing at a large pile of dog hair on the rug, directly in front of the fireplace.

  “What is tha…”

  Just as the sirens settled in front of the house, and dim blue and red lights began to flash through the curtains, we watched as Charlie did a barrel roll into the piled-up hair, exposing a lifeless manicured hand. Vicki Perring was dead.

  Chapter 4

  The rain was really coming down over Glaney, Washington.

  I watched Peter talk to the police from where I laid on one of Vicki’s chaise lounge chairs, wrapped in a blanket the medics provided with Picklepuss against my chest. My heart raced and my head felt heavy, but I put on my best brave face and smiled politely each time the officer glanced my way.

  Peter leaned casually against the railing of the porch. Sometime between finding Vicki’s body, and being ushered onto the back porch, he’d managed to put his now mud-covered jacket back on. Man, dirt looked good on him.

  He was just the sort of man I always hoped to find, and he nearly had me considering staying in Glaney.

  Glaney really wasn’t that bad, after all. Though the whole finding dead bodies at random thing was a bit depressing. L.A. was a hard town to raise kids in and deep down I think I always planned to have a family in a town like Glaney. If I ever found the right partner.

  I was utterly focused on Peter’s dimpled cheeks and what our children might look like when I heard a rhythmic tapping to my left. Annoyed by the rude interruption I scowled and looked straight into a face more menacing than a pug at nail clipping time.

  Ashley Trull. Not only was she our class president, and lead in the school play every year since we were sophomores, but Ashley managed to slink her way into the head cheerleading spot as well. Rumor had it that her father, the long-time mayor of Glaney, had a little something to do with that and every other success she so proudly shoved down our throats.

  We were not friends.

  The fact that she also had this whole unrequited love thing with my high school boyfriend, Jordan, probably had a lot to do with that. Whenever I turned my back, it seemed Ashley Trull was there in all her giggling, hair-flipping glory.

  Now, as she stood over me in a police uniform that was strapped across her tiny frame, with her dirty blonde hair pulled up into a tight bun and her thin lips lined to the heavens, it felt like nothing had changed.

  Ashley looked at me and then to Peter.

  “So, you went right to work, now didn’t you?”

  “Excuse me?” I shivered and wrapped the blanket a little tighter around me and Picklepuss.

  “I guess one eligible bachelor just isn’t enough for Kit Davis.”

  Peter glanced over at us and I smiled, turning away from him to face Ashley.

  “Ashley, maybe I’m just too traumatized but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh dear, poor baby,” she said in monotone. “Oh, and it’s Sheriff Trull now.”

  “Woo hoo,” I responded just as dryly.

  Peter appeared by my side and put his hand on my shoulder. “You still look pretty shaken up. I could see you shivering from across the porch.”

  “She does look terrible, doesn’t she?” Sheriff Trull smiled and reached out her hand. “Sheriff Ashley Trull. So did my officer get your statement?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Peter smiled. “I think we should be good to go then?”

  Ashley’s face when he called her ma’am made my day. It almost balanced out the whole finding a body thing.

  “You’re all done Mr. George. I just have a few more questions for Miss Davis here.”

  Peter looked between us and shifted from foot to foot. “Oh, well, alright then. I guess I’ll get going. It was nice to meet you, Kit. You know, besides…”

  I nodded. There wasn’t any need to finish that sentence. I watched as Peter and Charlie hopped down the steps and disappeared through the gate.

  “You know, they already took my statement too, Ashley. Oh,” I pouted. “Did someone forget to tell you?”

  I assumed that she was granted her new position in similar fashion to her head cheerleading spot. Daddy had to be a factor. I doubted very much that Ashley Trull had worked her way to the top.

  “Oh no, they told me. As Sheriff, I’m privy to a lot of information, Kit. Nothing goes on in this town that I don’t know about. I know everything.”

  I shrugged. “Cool beans.”

  “Actually, I’d really like to hear more about how you just happened to show up and find Vicki Perring murdered in her home and had absolutely nothing to do with it. Hopefully your acting has improved.” She made a dramatic pout with her little bird lips.

  I sat up taller in my chair. “I came to give her a refund for a grooming. My aunt left a note but never got around to it before she died. Peter and I just found her like that. It’s all in the report.”

  Ashley raised an eyebrow. “You really should get a better acting coach because that was crap.”

  I started to stand but she moved in closer to block me.

  “We find a crime scene full of dog hair and a murdered disgruntled customer of your business, and you expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with it?”

  I was shocked. All I could say was, “murdered?”

  Ashley laughed. “You thought she just laid down in a pile of old dirty dog hair and decided to meet her maker?”

&nb
sp; “No, I…” Suddenly I felt faint. Murdered. Vicki Perring was murdered, and I just walked in on the scene of the crime like it was nothing. Who does that?

  “Ashley, I didn’t know. I just came here to give her a refund. Peter will tell you, we found her together.”

  “Oh, he did.” She tapped her toe again. “I’ve never been able to figure out how you do it, I mean, I saw right through it, but you definitely are skilled at trapping men. I’m just glad that Jordan finally saw the light.”

  “Yeah, well...” I couldn’t believe she was throwing a ten-year old break-up in my face. I mean, I was traumatized. I’d probably spend years in therapy after this. What about that didn’t she understand?

  “Sheriff Trull?” an officer called to her from the doorway holding a notebook.

  Ashley held up a small, gangly finger to him then turned back to me. “We’ll be in touch, Miss Davis.”

  With that she turned on her toe and practically pranced into the house.

  An EMT came over and took back the blanket I was wrapped in, leaving me and Picklepuss to survive the elements sans cover.

  Picklepuss! What was I going to do with her? Not one of the officers had seemed concerned about her whereabouts. Who would take care of her if Vicki was dead? Peter mentioned something about a Vic but he or she didn’t seem to be home either.

  I decided to take her with me. It was the only sensible thing to do.

  Before I got to my car, I noticed some of Vicki’s neighbors watching the scene, so I walked across the street toward the front porch of a woman with a mousy brown bob and paint-stained overalls.

  Her home was a single story painted a light blue with white trim and through the front windows I could see three little boys playing and jumping on the wooden futon couches.

  “Hi Picklepuss!” The woman squealed as I climbed the rickety whitewashed steps.

  “Oh good, you know her,” I smiled.

  “Oh yeah, she’s a sweetheart. Not at all like her momma.”

  “Wow, uh, this is awkward… I’m not sure if you heard, Vicki Perring was murdered.”

  The woman scratched the little poodle behind her ears and for a second I thought I’d have to say it again.

  “Poor thing,” she finally sighed, and I got the feeling she was referring to Picklepuss. “You’re Kitty’s niece, Kit, right?”

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “How did you know?”

  “You must have forgotten what a small town Glaney is,” she winked. “You also have her eyes. She was an amazing woman,” she added sincerely. “I’m sorry we lost her. I’m Frannie.”

  “Thank you, Frannie. She was amazing.” I never got tired of people telling me how amazing Kitty was. It felt as though, in a way, she could live on just through all the people that loved her so much. I started to tear up and decided to change the subject. I had no idea if my eyeliner had managed to stay on through my ordeal, but I was not about to let it run now. “So, I’m trying to figure out what to do with Picklepuss here. Did Vicki have any relatives?”

  Frannie rolled her eyes.

  “Should I take that as a no?”

  “No, she does. Her nephew, Vic Perring. But he hates dogs. He owns the bookstore next to my shop downtown. He’s a cat person. He even named his shop Cattail Books,” she laughed. “I think he meant the actual cat tail too, not even the plant. He should have just gone with Pussy Willow Books. It would have been more fitting.” She rolled her eyes again. “I’d just stay clear of him.”

  I laughed. I loved cats even though I didn’t like grooming them. What I couldn’t understand was how anyone could hate dogs. I couldn’t leave Picklepuss with someone like that.

  “Picklepuss, what are we going to do with you?”

  The little dog began to shake in my arms.

  “Can’t you just take her with you?” Frannie suggested as one of the kids banged into the window, stuck his little face against the glass and blew raspberries. Frannie didn’t seem to notice.

  “I would…but I get the feeling I’m somehow a suspect. Wouldn’t that be like a conflict of interest or something?”

  “Wait. The troll thinks you did it?” Frannie bent over laughing and slapped her jean clad knee.

  “First of all, thank you for using her true name. Second, yes! But I’m totally not guilty.” I laughed and raised my hand to the heavens.

  “So, you’re saying that our great Glaney police force believes that you came back to town, what, yesterday? Then suddenly decided to go on a killing spree? Highly unlikely. I’m a better suspect than you!” she laughed.

  I laughed with her, but my face betrayed my apprehension, as usual.

  “Not that I did it! But to be perfectly honest, there’s not a lot of people in town that are going to be too disappointed that it happened. Actually, some of us might even throw a little party,” she put her hands together and did a little shimmy.

  “Well I’m not gonna do that, but I might get a mani pedi at least,” I smiled politely, worrying that I’d possibly crept onto the porch of a murderer. At the very least she had little to no tact. Her honesty was almost charming though, had there not been an actual murderer at large.

  “Anyway,” I took a step back. “I think I’ve had enough of flashing lights for the day. It’s too early for that and I’m not dressed for it.”

  Just then I noticed Peter collecting his mail. He noticed me right back and waved.

  “It’s true though…” Frannie leaned toward me. “There’s a lot of people in this town that have wished her dead for years. Just come by my shop tonight after closing and I’ll fill you in. It’s called Paint N’ Tings. Just go around back and knock. A man in a feathered cap will let you in.”

  I nodded with no intention of going to her store, in the dark, after hours, to meet the man in the feathered cap.

  Gripping my arm lightly she added, “Peter George will be there. It’ll be a blast.”

  She waved me goodbye as I heard something crash inside. Frannie just sat on her porch swing and rocked. She looked positively giddy.

  I walked toward Tom’s blue Chevy with a dead woman’s dog tucked under my arm wondering what I could wear to a murder party.

  I needed a moment.

  So after dropping Picklepuss off at the apartment, I drove about ten miles outside of town to a small shopping center that luckily housed both a grocery store and a nail salon. Glaney only offered a small, gourmet grocery in town and I got the feeling after talking with Frannie, that if I shopped on main street the contents of my cart would be public fodder an hour later. Besides, while I had gourmet taste, I was not on a gourmet sort of budget.

  After filling my cart with chips, dip, frozen meals, sandwich makings, and cookies I added a locally made bottle of wine. Then I added another. If I had to spend my days in Glaney I wasn’t going to do it on a low-carb diet. I did vow to take up walking, at the very least.

  The checker was a teen boy who seemed completely disinterested in who I was or my relation to the recent murder. He did seem to like my white tank top though, which I hadn’t realized had gotten quite so damp in the rain. I glared at him until he finally met my eyes, blushed, and dropped my change in my hand.

  Also, in the shopping center was a pet store so I picked up a couple doggy toys and bag of low calorie dog food. I had no idea what Vicki was feeding Picklepuss, so I prepared myself for the gas to come.

  After storing my bags in the trunk of the car, I wandered over to the nail salon hoping for a walk-in appointment.

  I was greeted by an older, but handsome woman with blue and purple hair piled on top of her head. She didn’t seem to be afraid of a little makeup and seemed especially heavy-handed with the sparkly gold eyeshadow. Her nametag told me her name was, Sue.

  Sue ushered me toward a big massaging pedicure chair, waited until I rolled up my jeans, then lifted the arm so I could climb in. I sunk my cold feet into the warm water and closed my eyes. Oh yeah, Mama likes.

  Sue took a seat on a stool and went t
o work, humming something by Taylor Swift.

  “It’s heaven, isn’t it?” The woman in the chair next to me moaned.

  “You got that right. I so needed this.”

  “I’ll bet,” the woman agreed. “I come weekly, but I’d come every day if I had the time, or the money,” she laughed.

  “I know the feeling,” I opened my eyes and turned to smile at her, recognizing her face, and dark red curls instantly. “Hey, don’t you work at that pizza place in Glaney?”

  “She owns it darling,” Sue laughed and tickled my foot, something I wasn’t all together pleased about.

  “I’m Sofia Bianchi,” she said placing her hand delicately on her chest. “My husband, Daniel, and I own Main Street Pizza together, actually.”

  “He’s really tall right?”

  Sofia nodded.

  “Yeah, I think I saw you both there the other night. I got the margarita pizza. It was fantastic.”

  Sofia smiled her thanks politely.

  Sue coated my feet in hot wax and disappeared into the back of the salon.

  “You were swamped when I came in, but I guess I just hit the rush because it was all cleared out by the time I left.”

  There was a pause as she watched my face. I wiggled my toes in their wax-filled bag to ease the tension I felt building in the space between us. Finally, she offered a small smile. “That’s the restaurant business, I guess. One second your thriving and the next…poof.”

  I wondered if Vicki Perring had anything to do with the magical loss of income she referred to. Or if Sofia and her husband might have had anything to do with Vicki going ‘poof’.

  Curious, I was about to dig a little deeper when Sue appeared at my feet again, this time with a partner who sat in front of Sofia and began chatting away with her.

  With my moment lost, I decided to relax into the foot massage I so desperately needed.

  Afterwards, I stuck my pretty red toes into my pretty red pumps which I’d cleaned off with a paper towel in the salon’s bathroom, grabbed a bagel sandwich from another business in the shopping center and headed back toward Glaney.