The Case of the Jaded Jack Russell

by B R Snow

  “We just saw something very interesting downstairs that we’d like to talk to you about,” Shirley said to Josie.

  “Sure, go ahead,” Josie said, stifling a yawn.

  “When we removed the bandage from the victim’s hand, we were quite surprised by what we saw,” Shirley said.

  “Oh, you saw it,” Josie said, perking up and tucking her legs underneath her. “How did it look?”

  “What?”

  “I mean, was it legible?”

  “The word jerk was stitched into his hand and wrist,” Shirley said, staring at Josie like she was from another planet.

  “I’m so glad you could read it. I had a heck of a time getting the K right.”

  “What?” Shirley said, glancing back and forth between her partner and Josie. “Bill, do you want to help me out here?”

  “I guess I can try,” Bill said, apparently as baffled as his partner. “First, we’re going to need you to confirm that it was you who stitched Mr. Middleton up after he got bit by the dog.”

  “I thought I just did that,” Josie said, frowning.

  “Just making sure for the case file,” Bill said. “I didn’t know that vets could work on people.”

  “They can’t,” she said, shrugging. “You’re here to arrest me for performing illegal needlepoint?”

  “Why did you do that?” Shirley said, getting ready to jot down a note.

  “Because he was about to start bleeding all over me.”

  “No, I mean why did you offer to stitch him up?” Bill said.

  “I didn’t.”

  “You didn’t?” Shirley said.

  “No. He asked me to do it.”

  “Because of your shared history, right?” Shirley said, her pen poised at the ready.

  “No, I’m sure he asked me because he hated the thought of having to go to the emergency room. I agreed to do it because he was bleeding like a stuck pig and I just bought the suit I was wearing. You ever try to get blood stains out of a cotton-poly blend?”

  “Actually, our uniforms are cotton-poly,” Shirley said.

  “Then you must know what I’m talking about,” Josie said. “In your line of work, that’s probably a daily concern, right?”

  “It can be,” Shirley said, putting her pen down. “But try soaking the stain overnight in a solution of water and hydrogen peroxide. It’s easier on the colors than using a commercial bleach.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Josie said, nodding. “I’ll give it a shot.”

  I shook my head and glanced at Bill who cleared his throat to get Shirley’s attention.

  “Uh, okay,” Shirley said, embarrassed. “Now about your history with the victim.”

  “What about it?” Josie said.

  “Is there anything you’d care to share about that?” Shirley said.

  “Didn’t we already cover that earlier?”

  “We did. Briefly. But that was before we learned that you had decided to do some creative needlepoint on the guy’s hand.”

  “That was just a joke,” Josie said, waving it off. “You know, a little gotcha for an old college acquaintance. And I’m sure Middleton would already be laughing about it. I mean, if he hadn’t gotten killed.”

  “A joke?” Bill said. “Like a joke between two old friends?”

  “Old friends? Absolutely not. I hated the guy.”

  “Interesting,” Bill said.

  “Not really,” Josie said, shaking her head. “Joshua was very easy to hate. No offense, Roxanne.”

  “None taken,” Roxanne said, rapidly working her way through her second glass of wine.

  “Refresh my memory,” Shirley said, pen poised. “How long were you two together in veterinary school?”

  “Three years.”

  “You were together three years?” Bill said.

  “We were at the same school for three years,” Josie said, casually. “And we obviously were in some of the same classes together. And we occasionally ended up at some of the same functions, or ran into each other socially from time to time.”

  “So, you’re saying you knew him well?” Shirley said.

  “Well enough to know that he was someone I wanted to avoid,” Josie said, starting to lose patience with the repetitive line of questioning. “Why don’t we cut to the chase? Just ask me what you want to know.”

  “Were you two ever an item?” Bill said.

  “Never,” Josie said as a simple statement of fact.

  “Ever sleep with him?” Shirley said.

  “Not a chance.”

  “Date?”

  “Nope.”

  “Flirt?”

  “He did, quite often.”

  “And?”

  “I always found it to be a real appetite killer.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I am that you two are really starting to annoy me,” she said, glancing at me. “Can you believe these two?”

  “So, we’ve touched a nerve?” Bill said. “I think we touched a nerve, Shirley.”

  “I think you’re right,” she said, scribbling a note.

  “Guys, as much as I’m enjoying listening to whatever brand of foreplay you two are currently using on each other, I’d really like to get some sleep,” I said. “And I imagine the two of you wouldn’t mind heading off and hitting the sack as well.”

  They both flinched at the foreplay comment and fell silent. Josie glanced back and forth at them with a big grin on her face.

  “I think you touched a nerve,” she said, glancing at me.

  “That was uncalled for,” Shirley said.

  “We’re just trying to do our job,” Bill snapped.

  “Well, I think it’s time for you to do it somewhere else,” Josie said.

  “We’d like to get your fingerprints if you don’t mind,” Bill said.

  “What?” Josie said.

  “Did you recover some prints from the can of Drano?” I said as my Snoopmeter turned itself on.

  “What business is that of yours?” Bill said.

  “Probably none,” I said, shrugging. “But why else would you want her prints?”

  “For the case file, primarily. And we’ll also want yours at some point,” he said. “But, yes, we did get some prints.”

  “A man’s prints, right?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  “How on earth did you know that?” Bill said.

  “I’ve been sitting here thinking about it, and it’s the only logical explanation,” I said. “Middleton was a big guy. And whoever killed him had to be strong enough to hold him with one arm and then pour the drain cleaner down his throat. Josie’s pretty tough, but she’s not strong enough to do that. Not to mention that she was wearing a skintight cocktail dress and four-inch heels at the time.”

  “It wasn’t that tight,” Josie said, making a face at me.

  “She could have knocked him out and then poured the drain cleaner down his throat while he was laying on the floor,” Shirley said.”

  “But he didn’t have a bump on his head,” I said.

  “No, he didn’t,” Bill said. “But he had been punched in the face twice earlier. He could have easily passed out on the floor.”

  “No, you’re reaching too far,” I said, shaking my head. “If the killer had found him like that, whoever it was would have had to kneel down to get close to the body. Middleton was still bleeding pretty heavily from the nose. You would have seen some smudges in the blood on the floor and maybe some footprints. From what I saw, there was nothing like that anywhere in sight.”

  “This coming from the woman who missed the can of Drano right next to the body,” Josie said, laughing.

  “Shut it. And if you check Josie’s dress, you aren’t going to find any blood. Which makes sense since she was sitting next to me the whole time. And we were at least a hundred feet from where it happened.”

  “She could have slipped away, taken care of Middleton, and then come back,” Bill said, half-heartedly.

  “C’
mon, Bill. You can do better than that,” I said, shaking my head again. “I’m pretty sure somebody came up from behind Middleton and surprised him, grabbed him around the neck with one hand, and then used the other to pour the drain cleaner down his throat.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But I’d still like to get a set of her prints.”

  “Or at least her phone number,” Roxanne said, laughing.

  “That’s not funny,” Shirley said, glaring at Roxanne.

  “Sorry,” Roxanne said, then glanced over at me. “Nerve touch.”

  I snorted then felt another wave of fatigue wash over me. I glanced at the clock that was approaching half-past three.

  “We just have a couple more questions,” Bill said.

  “I think I can help you guys wrap things up,” Josie said.

  “Go ahead,” Shirley said, sitting back in her chair.

  “You both believe me when I tell you that I hated the guy for years, right?”

  They glanced at each other and nodded, conceding the point.

  “And when I tell you that he made my flesh crawl the first time I met him, you can buy that, too?”

  “Yeah,” Shirley said. “I can believe that. So?”

  “So, if I had Middleton in my sights and was determined to kill him, he never would have made it out of vet school.”

  “Well played,” I said, laughing.

  “Thanks,” Josie said, then focused on the two cops. “Are we done here?”

  “Yeah, we’re done,” Bill said. “For now. But we’re going to have to ask you not to leave the hotel until we get a bit further along in our investigation.”

  “Oh, no.” Josie grabbed the remote with one hand, reached for the room service menu with the other, then stretched out with her feet on the coffee table. “Not the briar patch.”

  Chapter 6

  “Getting ready for a long day of lumberjacking?” I said, staring in disbelief at the mound of food piled on Josie’s plate.

  “Shut it,” she said, sitting down at a table near the breakfast buffet. “Besides, how am I supposed to know which ones I want to have seconds of if I don’t try them all?”

  “That sounds a lot like Roxanne’s strategy with men,” I said, laughing.

  “Don’t be disgusting,” she said as she shoveled what looked like half a pancake into her mouth and dribbled syrup down her chin.

  “Yeah, nobody wants that,” I deadpanned. “She asked me if it was okay for her to sleep on the couch again tonight.”

  “She asked me, too. I’m fine with it. You?”

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging. “She seems pretty harmless.”

  “So, now you believe me that she didn’t kill Middleton?” she said, turning her attention to a pile of home fries.

  “Maybe,” I said, frowning. “Yeah, I think we can take her off our list of suspects.”

  Josie paused just as the fork reached her mouth and frowned.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. “My list, not ours.”

  “Thank you,” she said, then put her fork back in gear.

  “What are your plans for the morning?”

  “I thought I might check out a couple of the workshops. There’s one for vets on palliative care that looks interesting. What about you?”

  “I’m going to try to track down the three people who had confrontations with Middleton last night before he got Drano-ed.”

  “Drano-ed?” she said, putting her fork down long enough to take a sip of water. “Your term, I assume?”

  “Yeah. Not bad, huh?” I said, yawning. “Man, I’m tired. And I was hoping to take a walk at some point, but it’s supposed to rain all day.”

  “You could always stop by the fitness center. I’m sure they have treadmills.” She caught the look I was giving her, then went back to her dwindling stack of pancakes. “Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to for a moment.”

  “But on the way here this morning, we did walk past the fitness center,” I said, nodding to myself. “I’m gonna count it.”

  “There you go,” she said, laughing. “And don’t forget that we need to stop by the kitchen later to say hi to the chef.”

  “That’s right. Let’s do it this afternoon after our presentation,” I said, polishing off the last of my eggs. “And we need to track down somebody from Middleton’s company about what their plans are for Jack.”

  “I’d like to take him home with us,” Josie said, pushing her plate away. “I’m such a little piggy.”

  “Do you think we can get them to agree to that?”

  “Agree to let us have the dog or the fact that I’m a piggy?”

  I laughed. She wiped her mouth then stood and glanced around the room.

  “I’ll meet you back here around 11:30, and we’ll go through our session one more time,” she said.

  “Sounds great,” I said, getting up.

  “You got your snoop-strategy all worked out?”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty much the usual. I’m gonna track them down one at a time and just start asking a bunch of questions.”

  “Ah, an oldie but a goodie,” she said, nodding. “Okay, Snoopmeister. Go forth and annoy.”

  I checked the names of the three people I wanted to talk to, compared it with the conference schedule of events, and hit the motherlode right out of the gate. The woman who’d screamed at Middleton last night was one of the morning presenters, and I headed for the room where, if the short blurb about the session was to be believed, she’d be regaling the audience on the amazing market opportunities of animal massage therapy.

  I found the room empty except for a woman at the front who was organizing her materials and testing the projection screen. She glanced up when she saw me, flashed a quick smile, then went back to what she was doing.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  “Hi,” she said, not looking up. “We’ll be getting started in about twenty minutes.”

  “Are you, Wilma Firestone?”

  She paused to look up at me and nod. “Yes, are you here for the session?”

  “No, I can’t stay,” I said, glancing up at the photo on the screen of a Golden Retriever getting a massage.

  “Are you a cop?” she said, finally giving me her full attention.

  “No,” I said, focusing on the photo. “Are those your hands in the picture?”

  “Yes,” she said, glancing up at it. “And that’s my dog, Goldie.”

  “She seems to be enjoying her massage,” I said, nodding. “Is that what you do for a living?”

  “It’s a sideline, but it’s starting to take off,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face. “I’m a full-time massage therapist. You know, on people.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “You should book a session. Your dog will love it,” she said, flipping through a binder.

  “I think my dogs are spoiled enough already,” I said, laughing.

  “Dogs? As in plural?”

  “Yup. The latest count is sixty-seven.”

  “You have sixty-seven dogs?” she said, baffled.

  “Yeah. But the number fluctuates.”

  “If they were cats, people would probably want to lock you up,” she said.

  “No, I’m not one of those crazy cat ladies,” I said, shaking my head. “They’re okay, but I sort of got turned off to them when one of my ex-boyfriends compared me to a cat. We were out on a date, and it was sort of a mood killer. Now that I think about it, it didn’t do much for the relationship as a whole.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me and waited.

  “He said I reminded him of a cat because one minute he’d be hearing a contented purr, and the next I’d be off chasing a sock he’d left on the floor.”

  “That’s funny,” she said, chuckling.

  “Yeah, he thought so, too,” I said, shrugging. “At the time, I didn’t find the humor in it.”

  “But it stuck with you, right?”

  “Oh, does it show?” I deadpanned, then grinned at her.

/>   “Okay, if you aren’t here for the session, and you aren’t a cop, how can I help you?” she said, sitting down and folding her hands in front of her.

  “I just have a few questions I’d like to ask you,” I said, sitting down next to her.

  “I spent all last night answering questions,” she said, staring at me. “Why should I answer any of yours?”

  “I really can’t give you a good reason,” I said, shrugging.

  “Excuse me for sounding rude, but you’re coming across as a very strange woman,” she said. “Who are you?”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot,” I said, nodding. “My name is Suzy Chandler.”

  She seemed to recognize the name and squinted as she tried to recall it.

  “You’re the one who runs the dog hotel in Clay Bay, right?”

  “Well, we do a lot of other things besides the hotel, but, yes, that’s me.”

  “I just read an article about you,” she said, leaning back in her chair to give me the once-over. “It said that you always somehow manage to find yourself in the middle of murder cases.”

  “Yeah, I really need to start working on that. But it’s sort of a hobby.”

  “The article said you have a gift for solving crimes. Some sort of sixth sense.”

  “That article cost me a small fortune.”

  She frowned, not sure if I was joking or not.

  “Just kidding. The person who wrote that was merely being kind. Actually, if you want to know the truth, I’m just incredibly nosy.”

  “And now you’re trying to figure out who killed Middleton?”

  “Well, I had a little time to kill before our session later on,” I said, shrugging. “But since you brought Middleton up, I couldn’t help but overhear you screaming at him last night.”

  It wasn’t the smoothest transition I’d ever come up with, but she seemed okay with it.

  “A lot of people heard me,” she said. “And most of them weren’t shy about telling the police what I’d done.”

  “It was pretty hard to miss,” I said, casually.

  “And you think I might have killed him?” she said, giving me a hard stare.

  “I have no idea. But I can certainly understand why someone might want to.”

  “Okay, I’ll play,” she said, smiling as she draped one leg over the other. “Based on what you heard last night, what was my motive?”