Three Woofs for the Dead, White and Blue

by Laura Quinn

  As Claire walked to the bakery counter, Baron sniffed the decorations and made an investigative trip around the shop to discover what else was new. “I see I have a bit of baking to catch up on, which is a good sign.”

  With Peggy off for the day, Claire felt safe in propping the murder boards on the shelf above her baking counter. She needed to concentrate, to rid herself of the nagging feeling that she was missing something. A faint knock on the back door alerted Baron, who’s woof broke Claire’s trance. She opened the door to find Keckers.

  “This was outside,” the teen said, handing her a large envelope with her name written on it. He greeted Baron with “Suh, bro.”

  “Why didn’t you come in the front?”

  “Gotta keep this V low key. I cracked the code and copied all the files onto this flash drive. The laptop is locked again and I erased all traces of my work; they’ll never know it was touched. Have you got a blowtorch?”

  “No, why?”

  “It’s the best way to destroy a drive, which I suggest you do when you’re done. Otherwise, you can smash it to oblivion with a hammer.”

  Claire promised to do her best to destroy the evidence and offered cash for a job well done. The young man refused, saying he enjoyed the job too much to charge. He pulled down his hoodie and slunk into his car, but the roaring engine belied all efforts of secrecy.

  The amateur sleuth ran upstairs to open the envelope in private. She found a file folder containing a few pages of copied notes, reports and evidence photos. A handwritten message instructed her to keep asking questions, that she was right about Brendan Hughes. The first page contained an image of the deceased’s alleged suicide note, proving what Bob was told. The ink was smudged enough to make an accurate handwriting analysis questionable, but perhaps Sam could recognize if it looked fake. On the flip side, the mysterious source wrote that Brendan’s body had been found and the coroner was suspicious about the cause of death.

  “I knew it,” Claire said aloud. She called Marti and Bob, but had to settle with leaving urgent voicemails for each. She continued through the rest of the folder, which included the autopsy reports for Kim and Larry. Much of the medical terminology was meaningless to the lay person, but in scanning through the case notes, she found that there was no definitive source of poison in the stomach contents. In fact, Larry had no food in his stomach at all. She remembered that cyanide was lethal whether ingested or administered topically. She looked at Kim’s autopsy report again. Shallow cuts and abrasions were noted on the fingers, some with tiny slivers of green glass. Claire winced, remembering the sting of lemon juice on her fingers when she cleaned up the shattered glass in her home.

  “It’s got to be the champagne bottle,” she told Baron. “Kim must have been poisoned as soon as she smashed the bottle on the ship.” Her dog cocked his head as he watched the reenactment.

  She shot down her own theory when she remembered that Kim had been wearing gloves for the christening. Not just any gloves, but the luxurious mulberry silk gloves. How could so many shards permeate the strong fibers? Plus, most of the bottle would have broken on the ship, not in Kim’s hands. Something else was nagging her, but she couldn’t discern quite what it was.

  She took the file downstairs to update the murder board and opened the flash drive on her computer. She hoped Larry’s files would reveal possible financial motives to help identify the killer. To her dismay, the file names were all coded, presumably to further protect the encrypted files. Opening one at a time, she began to notice a pattern. She wrote down the series of letters and numbers, working with them until she revealed Larry’s code system. It was a common book cypher she had learned from Sherlock Holmes in The Valley of Fear. Recalling Traci’s incident with Larry’s favorite book, Claire searched for The Wealth of Nations online. The 524-page tome seemed to align with the codes on the files, but she needed the same edition to decode the cypher. She called Traci and was relieved to learn she kept her late husband’s possessions exactly where they were. After an hour on the phone, the ladies were able to pair the references to page numbers, lines and letters.

  With the completed key, Claire was able to rename the files with clients’ names. She then grouped together all the names she recognized into one folder, hoping one would contain a vital clue. To her surprise, the file marked as “discrepancies” contained copies of Sam’s construction invoices along with the village’s ledgers. As Claire stared at the columns, she regretted not paying better attention in her high school accounting class. Instead, she called her brother for help.

  “When’s the wedding?” she teased, eager for her brother to overcome his commitment phobia and marry his soul mate. He still kept their parents’ condo on Michigan Avenue, even though he moved to San Francisco five years ago.

  “As soon as you have a date to bring,” Brad said, his customary response. “We’ve been reading some amazing reviews of your opening. Sorry we missed it.”

  “Here’s a chance to make it up to me. Well, not you, but your better half. Is he there? I need a financial consultant for a project I’m working on.”

  While she explained what she needed, Barbara popped in to say that the Golden Oaks Manor ladies arrived with the French accessories. Claire invited Agnes and her friend, introduced as Mrs. Wilson, back for coffee and cookies while she finished her call. Agnes told her to take her time, while they enjoyed the full-octane beverages and organized the new pieces. Claire stepped outside with her phone and confirmed with Tom that he received the email. He began with the municipal files in the discrepancy folder, their having piqued his interest. At first glance, he said it appeared to be a case of two sets of books, a method usually employed to cover embezzlement. Claire thanked him, then talked with her brother again briefly before returning to her guests.

  “Sorry about that; I didn’t think I’d be on the phone that long.”

  “No problem, toots,” Agnes said. “Hope you don’t mind we watched some videos online. The guards are always monitoring for inappropriate content. If we want a little eye candy, how’s that going to hurt us?”

  Mrs. Wilson blushed as she admitted her addiction to Thunder from Down Under. Claire changed the subject from male strippers to the array of handmade accessories. The selection included some with French phrases, some with silver Eiffel Tower appliques, and several new NoHa styles. Baron inspected the collection and Agnes swapped his Babe Magnet bandanna for a red bandanna with an Eiffel tower made of felt dog bones. “Bone Jour” was spelled out in blue sequins across the sides. Baron trotted over to Claire to show off his new bling.

  Claire complimented the crafters on their creativity and skill. She expected the wily seniors to renegotiate the price, and was willing to pay more for the popular pieces. Mrs. Wilson sipped her coffee and buttered a second croissant for herself, glowing in the praise of her handiwork.

  “Crap, I just remembered I have to see the quack at noon today,” Agnes said, grabbing a few croissants to go. “We’ll settle up later. See ya toots.”

  “I thought Doc Sethland was on vaca—”

  “That was last week,” Agnes interrupted. “Your mind is really going.” With a final “See ya, toots,” she was out the door and in Mrs. Wilson’s car. Her friend took one last sip, thanked Claire for her hospitality, and shuffled towards the exit. A horn honked her into a faster speed.

  Baron pranced alongside Claire as they took their afternoon break. They stopped at the Friar’s Fryer for a sweet potato to share at the outdoor table. On the way back, she thought of Kyle and wondered if his discarded boots contained evidence, thinking perhaps some of the poison had spilled. Knowing how much mess she made while grinding peanuts, she could just imagine how much spillage would come from grinding apricot seeds. Claire texted Marti to see if she could get in touch with Carly to borrow the salvaged boots. She called Bob to see if he could talk with Kyle about his whereabouts that night, since he had built up a relationship with the beekeeper over the years as a source on organic pr
oduce.

  While she was updating him with news about the anonymous envelope and Keckers’ cracked files, the penny dropped. “Keckers stole the bottle of champagne,” she blurted out.

  “Not exactly the crime of the century,” Bob said.

  “That’s what’s been nagging at me about the gloves. Can you look at the photos of the cruise christening? See what bottle was used, specifically what color. I have to run, but I’ll explain later when you get here.”

  Claire put her phone away and tried to put the murders out of her mind. Word was spreading about the Bastille Day treats, with more customers coming in as well as calls for pickup orders. Emma pushed her way through a group of women fighting over the French bandanas.

  “OMG, you’re here,” Emma said, hugging her boss. “How are you? I heard you found Mr. Hughes’ body.”

  “No, I just found his jacket.”

  “I heard it was suicide, but that doesn’t make any sense. He was a champion swimmer, why would he try to drown himself? No way his body’s muscle memory would allow that to happen.”

  “He was? How do you know that?”

  “He gave a pep talk to our swim team when we were in the finals last year. He jumped in the pool with us, which was kind of pervy, but his body was pretty ripped. That’s probably why he always wore his clothes too tight.”

  With the shop fully staffed, Claire took a quick break with Baron. They ran into Kendall, who was returning from a photo shoot. She stopped to talk about Brendan’s death.

  “I can’t believe it,” the young lady said. “He just scheduled an appointment with me to take pictures of a new estate he was handling.”

  “I didn’t know you did that type of work,” Claire said. “You’re so artistic.”

  “It pays the bills, and I like the challenge. With homes that expensive, the marketing materials have to look perfect. We can’t Photoshop the pictures, of course, but I know a few tricks with lenses and filters to achieve the most flattering images.”

  “I’ll remember that the next time I need my portrait done,” Claire said. “Usually, I just pose behind Baron.”

  “It’s good to see you laughing. My aunt I were worried about you. She was on the verandah when all the commotion happened on the lake. She saw everything…”

  “Lydia saw what happened to Brendan?” Claire pounced.

  “Oh, no, luckily she was spared from that. She just woke up from a nap after her swim and…” Kendall’s face paled. “What if she had been in the lake when Mr. Hughes jumped in? She might have died trying to rescue a murderer.” She took a breath. “I don’t mean to be so dramatic. This town used to be so boring, the kind of place where nothing ever happened. Now, I realize how much I treasured that. Even though the murders are solved, my nerves are jangled.”

  Claire said goodbye to her, holding back the opinion that these murders were not only not solved, they were now three in number. As they began their walk, Claire’s phone rang. She stopped to talk with Bob, causing Baron to lay down and groan. Bob reported not only getting an alibi for Kyle, but also a scoop that one of the local organic farms was using pesticides.

  “Kyle and Carrie were snooping around the fields that night, taking samples while the operation was shut down for the holiday. He insisted to Carrie that they both throw away their shoes after confirming the soil was contaminated.” Bob explained.

  Claire thanked him for the story, which she planned to verify with Carrie.

  “Don’t worry,” Claire told her fussy puppy. “We’re going to take a nice long walk, then I’ll treat you to a puppaccino at Carrie’s shop. Hearing the magic words, Baron sprung up and pranced alongside as they looped through the neighborhood behind the mall. She planned to research how she could test for pesticides, if Marti could secure a sample from the boots.

  Claire selected a shady table outside and waved to Carrie through the window. One of the servers came out with a large bowl of water for Baron and told Claire that her boss would be out in a few minutes. Claire ordered Baron’s treat and a large iced sangria fruit tea for herself. Carrie brought the tray out herself and plopped down in the opposite chair.

  “It’s been crazy here today,” Carrie said. “Everyone’s got French fever, thanks to you. I’ve been making iced café au laits all day.”

  “I’ve been cranking out baguettes and tri-color pinwheels since dawn. Between the Fourth and Bastille Day, my fingers are going to be permanently dyed red and blue.” Claire continued the small talk before shifting to the story she heard would be breaking about the organic scam. Carrie told her all about it, proud of her role to bust the toxic fraud. It came out so naturally that Claire believed her, especially when Carrie threatened to sue the chemical factory farm for the shoes she and Kyle lost. Feeling relieved, Claire finished her drink and took Baron back to his air-conditioned spot.

  Marti arrived a little later, with the requested boots in a bag. When Claire updated her on the story, Marti was still skeptical.

  “If we keep crossing out suspects, we’ll be back to Traci and/or Ken,” Marti said. “We need proof of Kyle’s story.”

  “I think I have some leftover test kits at home,” Emma said, having overheard the conversation. “For my final AP Chemistry project, I tested for pesticides in the environment. It was hella hard work, having to collect samples all over town and recording each GPS coordinate on the vial, but I got an A+. My teacher was so impressed, she sent my results to Village Hall, but of course no one cared how high the levels of atrazine and simazine would be based on my projections. Even if Mr. Beecham did kill Mrs. Bancroft, he was saving the environment and shouldn’t be charged. I wonder if anyone has ever used eco self-defense as a defense?”

  She texted her house manager to look for the kits, promising to bring them in the next day. Bob took Larry’s computer back to Traci and when he returned, Marti was upstairs, combing through the mysterious folder. Claire refused to let her friend look at Larry’s files or Tom’s email, avoiding any possible risk to her legal career. As Bob was sworn to protect his sources, Claire gave all the financials to him to review in the back office. She was anxious to get updates from them, but kept busy with the continuing lines of customers.

  When the shop closed and all but the Mystery Mavens remained, Marti and Bob came to the kitchen to discuss the case while Claire baked.

  “I’ve been dying to know how you got these copies,” Marti said.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Claire said. “Apparently, the envelope was propped outside the back door. Keckers brought it in with him.”

  “It doesn’t look like my source’s handwriting, but it must be someone on the inside,” Bob said.

  “No, your little honeybunny would have hopped over to give it to you personally,” Marti said.

  “Regardless of who delivered it, everything seems legit,” Bob said. “Clearly, someone else shares our view the real killer is still out there.”

  “And we all know that Chief Pete isn’t going to spend one more minute investigating,” Marti said. “North Haven is lucky that we’re here to protect and serve.”

  Baron foresaw a long, dull night. He picked up the fleecy lamb toy from his stash and headed to his bed to catch up on much-needed sleep.

  The trio took turns telling and posting their updates on the boards. Bob began with his news, that the replacement champagne bottle was Cristal, made of clear glass. Although they didn’t have the coroner’s lab results, all agreed it was most likely that the green shards were coated with the poison. If Kim’s fingers were cut by class, everyone would have assumed it was from the shattered bottle. They deduced that the glass must have been put in the gloves.

  “That narrows our possibilities substantially,” Claire said. “I know that box was sealed when I delivered it to the tent Sunday. So, the murderer couldn’t have tampered with the gloves until after that point. Plus, it would have to be someone who knew what type of bottle would be used.”

  “That actually doesn’t he
lp much,” Bob said. “The Regal Cellar made a big deal of their donation. They ran a full-page ad in the weekend edition listing all their champagnes, featuring the magnum they donated to the committee.”

  “Yes, it does help us,” Marti said. “Everyone at the park knew about the replacement of the stolen bottle. That would have blown the carefully crafted plan.”

  “I didn’t know about it until Keckers told me,” Claire said.

  “That’s because you were down there with your fire hunk,” Marti said. “Fiona went into the tent to add ribbons to the bottle and found it missing. There was mass panic as Mike tried to find someone to open the Cellar to get a new bottle. He ended up having to get a bottle from the supermarket.”

  “You should have seen Mike at the height of the commotion. He turned five shades of red and veins were bulging out of his neck,” Bob said.

  “So, the murderer wasn’t at the event that night, but was in the tent at some point,” Claire said. “I was thinking about what Helen said, that her employee tore his shirt on the tent pole. Josh said something snagged his shirt when he was putting the VIP bags on the table.”

  “So, maybe the murderer was scratched too,” Marti said. Claire was already dialing Helen’s number to see if she could look at the damaged support pole. “Tell her to wear gloves, but maybe turn them inside out first.”

  Helen said she knew exactly which tent was the one used by the committee, and went back into the warehouse to check. While Claire waited, Bob filled them in on his other news, that Brendan was in financial trouble.

  “He was leveraged to the hilt,” Bob explained. “Everything was riding on the marina’s development going forward. The rumor is that Kim was going to vote against the project in spite. Had she lived, I’m sure the project would have been dead in the water, if you’ll excuse the pun.”

  “That’s a pretty strong motive to kill Kim,” Claire said. “Maybe Larry told her about Brendan’s monetary crisis, to rid himself of a rival once and for all. She may have threatened to expose him.”