The Case of the Jaded Jack Russell

by B R Snow

  Then I couldn’t stop myself and looked at the man who was still pouting in his chair.

  “I assume you don’t have any more, right?”

  I flinched when I caught the hand gesture he gave me that was hidden from the rest of the audience.

  “That’s not very nice,” I said with a smile, then acknowledged a woman in the back of the room. “Yes, ma’am, what’s your question?”

  I spent the next fifteen minutes answering questions, many of which I redirected to Josie. We finished to a loud round of applause, and the noise in the room swelled as people made their way to the afternoon sessions. I sat down next to Josie.

  “Great job,” she said, patting my hand. “What a jerk, huh?”

  “What else would you expect from Middleton’s Chief Operating Officer?” I said, glancing over at the man who was in the middle of a conversation with Wilma, the animal massage expert.

  “That’s where I know him from,” she said, relieved. “It was driving me nuts.”

  “Yeah, it finally came to me while we were going back and forth,” I said. “I knew I’d seen him someplace before. Then I remembered he hit on me when we were at that conference in Boston a few years ago.”

  “Well, you handled him perfectly,” she said, then leaned closer and whispered, “A COO punching his boss in front of six hundred people shines a whole new light on things.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “And I definitely want to talk to him.”

  “You didn’t get enough during your presentation?” she said, laughing. “Say, how did it go this morning?”

  “It was interesting,” I said, nodding at the table where the man and Wilma were still chatting. “That’s her. Wilma Firestone. A massage therapist who’s trying to transition into pet massage. She got cut out of a business deal she thought she’d made with Middleton.”

  “Interesting,” Josie said, sneaking a peek at them. “Were she and Middleton an item?”

  “They were. For a while anyway.”

  “But it didn’t end well?”

  “Oh, I’m sure it did early on. At least from his perspective,” I said, sneaking another peek at the conversation.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Not important. She’s still furious about getting cut out of the deal.”

  “And now she’s chatting with the COO. You think she’s trying to salvage the deal?”

  “Could be,” I said, glancing over. “But I’m almost positive she didn’t kill Middleton.”

  “Because you’re sticking to your theory about how it happened, and she’s just not strong enough to have pulled it off?”

  “Nothing gets past you,” I said, gently punching her on the shoulder.

  “But he’s certainly strong enough,” she said.

  “No doubt about it. You think the two of them might be working together?”

  “You mean, they take Middleton out, he gets control of the company, and she gets her deal?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Josie said, getting up from her chair. “I need a nap.”

  “Me too. I don’t function well on three hours of sleep. But we were going to stop by the kitchen and say hi to Chef Claire’s ex.”

  “That’s right. Yeah, let’s go do that and then head up to the suite.”

  “Good plan,” I said, tossing my bag over my shoulder.

  “Great presentation.”

  We both turned to the voice and saw, Bobbie, the chef’s sister, standing behind us.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “It was really good. And I loved the way you handled that guy,” she said. “Hi, Josie.”

  “Hey, Bobbie. I almost didn’t recognize you without your appetizers.”

  “That’s because you never took your eyes off the tray,” she said with a grin.

  “Not funny,” Josie said, making a face at her.

  “Disagree,” I said, laughing. “You’re not working today?”

  “No, I’ve got the day off. But I wanted to hear your presentation, so I just sort of snuck in.”

  “We were just going to say hi to your brother in the kitchen,” Josie said.

  “Cool. I’ll walk with you. I’d like to talk with you about the job you mentioned.”

  “Sure. What about it? You know someone who might be interested?”

  “Yeah, me,” Bobbie said, nodding.

  “Really?”

  “Are you kidding? I’d kill for that job,” she said.

  “Oh, let’s hope not,” Josie said. “One a week is more than enough.”

  Chapter 8

  Chef Charles, or Charlie as he insisted we call him, was a good-looking guy in his thirties with gorgeous blue eyes and an inviting smile. Apart from his looks, the other thing about him that got my immediate attention were the number of band-aids on his hands and fingers. I was used to seeing them on Chef Claire since she managed to cut or burn herself on a regular basis, but Charlie seemed to have turned it into an art form. It also appeared that he had a great head of hair, but that was hard to confirm because it was currently hidden under the large chef hat that he somehow managed to look good in. It was easy to understand why Chef Claire had found him attractive, and if he hadn’t been the former boyfriend of one of my best friends, I would have been more than willing to let him know I might be interested in getting to know him a whole lot better. But since he and Chef Claire had a shared history, he was off the table.

  He gave his sister a long hug, then shook hands with us and led us to the staff’s break room off the back of the kitchen. We sat down and waited quietly until he returned with coffee and pastries. He served us, then sat down next to his sister and removed his hat.

  For the record; two big thumbs up on the hair.

  “How’s Chef Claire doing?” he said softly.

  “She’s doing really well,” Josie said.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, nodding. Then he turned to Bobbie. “So, how was the presentation?”

  “It was great,” she said. “And you should have seen the way Suzy handled Middleton’s COO. It was beautiful.”

  “Good for you,” Charlie said, beaming at me. Then he turned back to his sister. “Oh, I think I’ve got another event lined up for you. Next Tuesday and Wednesday, six hours each night.”

  “Thanks, Charlie,” Bobbie said. “I appreciate it. But if things work out the way I’m hoping, maybe I won’t need the hours. Suzy and Josie are currently looking for someone to manage their rescue program. And the job sounds amazing.”

  Charlie frowned and stirred his coffee deep in thought.

  “What’s the matter?” Bobbie said.

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea?” he said, unable to shake the frown.

  “What are you talking about? I think it’s an amazing idea,” she said.

  “Working that close to Chef Claire?” he said. “It sounds…strange.”

  “You were the one that dated her,” she said, laughing. “Not me.”

  “Yeah, but still,” Charlie said. “I’d want to come and visit you. And I’m not sure how that would work.”

  “Oh, poor Charlie,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “What did I do now?” he said, glaring at her.

  “I get excited about the possibility of finding a job that’s perfect for me, a job I don’t even have yet, and your first reaction is how it might impact you.”

  “That’s not it,” he said, fidgeting with his coffee cup. “It’s just that you’d be so far away. And I like having you around.”

  “It’s two hours, Charlie,” Bonnie said, shaking her head. “Why do I even bother?”

  “I’m just not sure if I can handle seeing her,” he whispered.

  “Then don’t,” she said. “I’m sure we can figure out a way for your paths not to cross.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to be in the same town and not want to see her,” he said, exhaling loudly.

  I glanced at J
osie who gave me a small shrug. Chef Claire had obviously gotten her hooks sunk deep into this guy, and he was still having a hard time getting them out.

  “This is really none of my business,” I said, glancing back and forth at Charlie and his sister.

  “But that’s never stopped you before,” Josie whispered with a grin.

  “Shut it,” I said, then focused on Charlie. “It sounds like things didn’t end well between you and Chef Claire.”

  “No, they didn’t. But I’m sure she’s told you all about it.”

  “Actually, no. She’s never said a word to us about you. At least she didn’t until she found out we were staying here at the hotel. That’s when she told us a friend of hers was the head chef.”

  “A friend?” he said, crushed. “That was the word she used?”

  I glanced at Josie who gave me another small shrug. I decided to be gentle but to play it straight with him.

  “Yes, but she may have said, good friend.”

  “Typical,” he said, slamming the table with the palm of his hand.

  All three of us jumped back, startled. Charlie, red-faced, took a few deep breaths, then sheepishly looked around the table.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That was uncalled for. I guess I’m still having problems processing the fact that we’re not together. Fresh wounds can take a long time to heal, right?”

  “Sure, sure,” I said, then frowned at Josie. “Fresh?”

  “Yeah,” Charlie said, holding his coffee with both hands as he took a sip.

  “How long has it been?” Josie said, beating me to the question.

  “Four years,” he said, staring off into the distance.

  Josie stared at me and silently mouthed: Four years? I rubbed my forehead and looked over at Bobbie. She had her head down but tried consoling her brother by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He shook her hand away, then stood up and put his hat back on.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, tight-lipped and grimacing. “I have some things in the oven I need to check on. Suzy, Josie, it was very nice meeting you.” Then he looked at his sister. “We’ll talk some more about the job later.”

  Bobbie gave us a sheepish look, unsure of what to say next. We sat quietly as she formulated her thoughts.

  “He can be very protective,” she said, eventually. “And since our mom died, I’m the only family he has. He’ll come around.” Then she blushed. “I’m sorry. Here I am talking like I’ve already got the job.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” I said. “It’s nice that he’s so concerned about you.”

  “He’s been…trying so hard,” she said, tearing up.

  I glanced at Josie. She seemed as surprised as I was to see Bobbie starting to cry. Embarrassed, she wiped her eyes with a tissue and exhaled loudly.

  “Sorry. I still get emotional about my mom sometimes.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” I said, patting her hand.

  “What’s the deal with all the cuts on his hands?” Josie said.

  “Charlie’s a total klutz,” Bobbie said, managing a soft chuckle. “Always has been. I’m surprised he’s still got all fingers. When he gets focused on his cooking, you better keep your distance.”

  “Chef Claire’s the same way,” Josie said, nodding. “She has this big yellow line in the restaurant kitchen she calls the Line of Death. Step across it without her permission, and you’re liable to get whacked.”

  “Something you learned the hard way,” I said, grinning at Josie.

  “I still can’t believe she hit me.”

  “You can’t say she didn’t warn you,” I said, laughing as I remembered the look of disbelief on Josie’s face after Chef Claire had smacked her hand with a wooden spoon she’d been using to stir a large pot of soup.

  “Chefs can be so temperamental,” Josie said.

  “Well, that’s Charlie,” Bobbie said, nodding. “Look, I don’t want to seem pushy, but I have copies of my resume out in the car. Would you mind taking a look at it? Given my experience, I think I’ve got what you’re looking for.”

  “Sure,” I said, glancing at Josie who nodded in agreement.

  Bobbie got up and headed out. Josie and I focused on what was left of the pastries Charlie had provided. We both grabbed a chocolate cruller at the same time and silently decided to split it.

  “Fresh wound?” Josie said, chewing slowly as she thought about it. “After four years?”

  “Yeah, I know. Strange, huh?”

  “I can’t even remember the names of some of the guys I dated four years ago,” Josie said, polishing off the rest of the cruller.

  “But you haven’t forgotten any of the serious boyfriends you’ve had.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “You never forget them.”

  “Still, four years is a long time to be carrying a torch.”

  “Unless he’s planning on burning her house down,” Josie said, reaching for a lemon bar.

  “What?”

  “The temper,” she said, taking a bite. “Lemon bars have never been my favorite, but these are pretty good.”

  “He did sort of lose it for a second there, didn’t he?” I said, eyeing the pastries. “Lots of bad memories buried somewhere.”

  “Buried right below the surface would be my guess. What do you think happened between him and Chef Claire?”

  “Who knows? Maybe she’ll tell us.”

  “If she wanted us to know, she would have told us by now,” Josie said.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, deciding no on the lemon bar. “But I’m dying to know. Aren’t you?”

  “Of course, I am,” she said, laughing. “But don’t bug her about it or try to guilt her into telling us, okay?”

  “Of course not. What do I look like, some sort of monster?”

  “No, actually you look like a woman with chocolate in her hair,” she said, pointing at my head.

  “Really? How the heck did I manage to do that?” I said, examining a strand of hair.

  Bobbie re-entered the break room and sat down, watching me closely as I picked chocolate out of a blond highlight.

  “Did you decide to go darker for the winter?” Bobbie deadpanned.

  Josie snorted.

  “Funny,” I said, deciding it would have to wait until I showered.

  “I think she might fit in well,” Josie said. “Is that it?”

  “Yes,” Bobbie said, sliding each of us a copy of her resume.

  “Why don’t you give us some time to take a look at it?” Josie said, getting up from her chair. “What do you think, Suzy? You feel like doing an interview tonight?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Why don’t you stop by our suite at seven? That should give us plenty of time to take a look at it and get a nap in.”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you at seven sharp,” Bobbie said, obviously excited. “Thanks so much for the chance.”

  She waved and headed out. We collected our things and also headed for the door.

  “You do know that we’re going to have to run this by Chef Claire before we offer her the job, right?”

  “I do,” I said, nodding.

  “And if Chef Claire isn’t comfortable with the idea?”

  “Then I imagine that Bobbie is going to be very disappointed,” I said.

  “Yeah, you read my mind.”

  “It’s really not that hard to do.”

  “Then tell me what I’m thinking right now.”

  I squinted and faked deep thought then looked at her with raised eyebrows.

  “The mouth on you.”

  Chapter 9

  I showered, managed to get all the chocolate out of my hair, then slipped into my robe and stretched out in bed. But despite my fatigue, I couldn’t get my brain to shut down. After twenty minutes of tossing and turning, I gave up and headed out to the living room. I sat down on one of the couches, and Jack took full advantage of my empty lap. Soon, he was softly snoring, and I was on the phone. I cal
led the Inn first and explained to Jill there was a possibility we might need to stay an extra night. After hearing that everything was running smoothly, as it always did whenever we were away, I said goodbye to Jill and called Chief Abrams. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, Snoopmeister. How’s it going up there?”

  “Hey, Chief. Our keynote today was a total home run. Yesterday was a bit of a different story. Did you hear what happened?”

  “I doubt it. I took the day off and went fishing. My phone didn’t ring all day, and I didn’t even read the news or turn on the TV. Best day I’ve had in months.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I said. “Joshua Middleton got murdered here last night.”

  “Joshua Middleton? The name sounds familiar.”

  “He was the CEO of the largest pet store franchise in the States and Canada.”

  “Yeah, okay. I got it. Murdered, huh? Where did it happen?”

  “In the big ballroom downstairs right in the middle of a cocktail reception. Actually, he was killed in a supply room right off it. Several hundred people were there.”

  “Lots of potential witnesses,” he said.

  “Unfortunately, at the moment, it seems to be a lot of potential suspects,” I said, stroking Jack’s head who had woken up.

  “Nobody saw it happen, huh? I hate when that happens.”

  “Yeah, me too. So, I was just sitting here thinking and thought I’d give you a call,” I said, casually.

  “I knew I smelled something burning.”

  “Funny.”

  “Let me guess, you’ve inserted yourself into the investigation,” he said, laughing.

  “Inserted is such a harsh term. But I do need you to do something for me.”

  “Suzy,” he said, adopting the fatherly tone he occasionally used with me. “You need to be careful. I know you’re in Canada and it’s one of the friendliest places on the planet, but it’s still a foreign country. And while I’m willing to give you more than enough rope to hang yourself, I doubt the cops up there are going to have much patience if you start snooping around and stepping on their toes.”

  “No, they’re fine,” I said. “I even let them fingerprint me.”