For a Good Paws

by Linda O. Johnston

  “You want to see it.” It wasn’t a question but a frustrated sigh. “Why am I not surprised? Don’t answer that. I’m aware that you’ll want to stay involved since some of the people we’re questioning are friends or employees of yours. I get it. And I also know that telling you to stay out of this one won’t work. But I do want your promise to keep us informed if you find something that could lead to an arrest in this case.”

  “I’d be glad to, if that promise is reciprocal.” I grinned. Wayne didn’t. I nevertheless added, “The whole world—or at least the part of it here—is filled with curiosity. Can you reveal Mr. Schulzer’s cause of death yet?”

  “I gather that we will soon, but I’m not in a position to discuss that with you.”

  I didn’t mention that since we were in private, except for Reed and Neal, we were definitely in a position where he could disclose what would be made public soon anyway. I might not agree to remaining uninvolved in trying to figure out the case, but I would agree to keep my mouth closed about it, at least for now.

  “All right, Wayne,” I finally said. “I understand. You have a protocol to follow and all that. But I’m sure you can recognize how concerned I am. Yet another murder here in Knobcone Heights—and like the others, it seems to involve people I know and care about as potential suspects. I’d of course like to know who you’re looking at most closely, and I hope that includes Mike Holpurn.” It was probably unnecessary to say so, but it didn’t hurt to mention him. “And if it turns out that none of the people I care about is truly considered a suspect, then I’ll be able to back off. I like to spend my time in my shops, after all, and as a vet tech.” I turned briefly to grin at Reed. “So—”

  “So you know that if our protocol doesn’t allow me to even mention the cause of death, I can’t discuss possible suspects with you, Carrie.”

  “I figured. But—well, you’ve seemed to appreciate my help before, if not my nosiness. Just know that I’ll try to be a good citizen and stay in touch with you when it matters.”

  Which really wasn’t saying anything. I was making no more promises than he was.

  “Gee, thanks, Carrie.” Wayne realized what I wasn’t saying. “And now, I really think it would be good if all of you left the building.”

  I glanced toward Neal first, then Reed. Both nodded, Reed more vehemently than my brother.

  “Okay, we’re leaving,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch again, Wayne. Most likely soon, depending on how things go. Meanwhile, please say hi to Bridget and Chief Loretta for me, okay?”

  “Okay,” he grumbled through gritted teeth, and I led Neal and Reed into the hallway to head for the elevator.

  We didn’t need to hide that we were leaving.

  Thirteen

  We went back to the bar and joined Janelle and Dinah again. They were just finishing a snack of sliders, and since we hadn’t eaten dinner yet, Reed, Neal, and I ordered some too—along with a quick good night drink. Then, while waiting, we described the little we’d seen in the resort hotel.

  “Guess I should have come along,” Dinah said, sounding dejected. “It would have been research, after all. But I didn’t realize that was where you were going.”

  “I think right now it’s a good thing for you to just take care of yourself and not worry about research,” I responded. Unless, of course, she could find the nugget of information that cleared her from being a murder suspect.

  Then again, despite how the cops had apparently acted toward her at her interrogation, I didn’t know for certain that Dinah was a major suspect. It wasn’t as if Detective Crunoll was forthcoming with such information.

  We soon were done and everyone expressed an interest in leaving, so we did.

  “I’ll be at the stores early tomorrow,” Dinah promised as we walked outside into the parking lot.

  “Great! Me too.” And I felt fairly certain I’d see her, since Wayne hadn’t alluded to having found anything that would cause the police to arrest anyone yet for the murder, let alone Dinah.

  But I’d also learned, since I’d begun my unintentional sleuthing, that you couldn’t count on anything to happen … or not happen.

  Once Dinah headed toward her car, the rest of us had to decide, as was often the situation, who was spending the night where. Once again, Neal was heading for Janelle’s, which meant that Reed would go pick up Hugo and meet Biscuit and me at my place.

  Sure, we sometimes all spent the night in one house. But we all felt more comfortable when each couple had an abode of their own to sleep in—and perhaps do more. Later that night, after Reed and Hugo arrived and the four of us took a short walk, we all went to bed—dogs on the floor and Reed and I engaging in some fun to help us sleep better. Which it did.

  We woke up bright and early, as always, the next morning, since I had to dress and dash off to my shops. But once the alarm clock had gone off, Reed was the one to reach for the remote and turn on the TV. The morning news was on, but it wasn’t Silas who was reporting. This wasn’t surprising, since he usually came on later in the day, although as I’d seen now and then, particularly recently, Silas would show up any time if there was a major news event to report.

  Honey Raykoff, an attractive lady in her late thirties who did appear on camera at that early hour, mentioned that the apparent homicide of the husband of the town’s former mayor was still being investigated. Then she went on to other stories, so apparently nothing exciting had been determined overnight. “Nothing new yet,” I said to Reed.

  “Not yet,” he agreed. “Do you trust those detectives to figure out what happened?”

  “I certainly hope they do this time.”

  He laughed as we both finished dressing and took the dogs outside.

  Soon Reed and Hugo were on their way home, while once more I fastened Biscuit into the backseat of my car and drove to the shops.

  Sure enough, Dinah came in early. By silent agreement, we didn’t mention the elephant sitting on our shoulders and squeezing our minds with its trunk, or at least that’s how it felt to me to be thinking about the murder and its investigation and wondering what would happen next.

  Vicky came in soon, then Frida. It was Janelle’s day off. I wasn’t sure what time Neal started to work on Fridays, but figured they might have a nice leisurely morning to spend together.

  And me? Well, I was delighted, as the morning progressed, to have a good number of customers in both shops after we finished baking and opened the doors. But I still felt uneasy, as if another very large shoe was about to drop. And, perhaps, land on the head of one of my assistants, most likely Dinah, during the investigation of Henry’s death.

  Standing behind the counter, placing dog treats into a paper bag for a woman who’d come in carrying an adorable Westie who loved our yam treats, I found my mind wandering … and certainly not for the first time that day.

  “Here you go,” I finally told her, giving her dog another sample and ringing up the sale with a smile. I then aimed my smile toward my Biscuit, who, as always, sat in her enclosure looking happy and inquisitive and adorable.

  I knew what I needed to do: find Mike Holpurn and talk to him and his brothers. They were the most logical murderers, weren’t they? Holpurn had already admitted to committing one murder in his lifetime, no matter that he now denied it and his incarceration had been cut short.

  I wasn’t sure where Holpurn was staying, or if he even remained in town—although under the circumstances, and given that he was on parole, I figured the cops must have given him orders to stay around. But considering his background, would he obey them or would he simply choose to defy them?

  How would I know?

  I decided to leave word with my friends and brother to tell me if they happened to see him.

  That gave me a wonderful excuse to grab some coffee at Cuppa-Joe’s later that morning. I had a shift at the vet clinic scheduled
for after that, so I’d let people at the clinic know as well, although I didn’t think Holpurn owned a pet, since he’d just gotten out of prison. I’d also visit Mountaintop Rescue, since although Holpurn might not be likely to stop in there, Billi spent time in a lot of other venues where she might see the guy, such as at her spa or even in City Center, when she went there to fulfill her role as City Councilwoman.

  Besides, it would be fun to see her, to work on setting up our next adoption event at the Barkery next week, and to find out if Prince and Duke were likely to be among the pets seeking a new home at that time.

  Around eleven o’clock, there was a bit of a lull in both stores, a good time, I figured, to go to Cuppa’s. Dinah was still working in the Barkery, and before even telling her I was leaving, I popped into Icing to check in with Vicky and Frida—and to ask them to be sure that one of them always hung out with Dinah while I was gone. My full-time, number one employee, while doing her job just fine, was a bit slower than usual and seldom smiled. She clearly felt some stress and needed company. I didn’t have to explain this to my other assistants that day. Both knew what was going on.

  Soon I popped back into the Barkery and got Biscuit’s leash. I waved goodbye to Dinah, who was waiting on a customer. Then Biscuit and I started our walk to Cuppa-Joe’s.

  The August morning was warm, and the stroll from the shops across the town square to Cuppa’s was pleasant, especially because Biscuit got to trade a few nose sniffs with other dogs romping on their leashes in the square.

  Soon we reached the coffee shop and walked inside. I didn’t see the Joes at first, but Sweetie lay under a table in a corner of the main room, leashed there so she couldn’t dash out the door. She was a good girl and I doubted she’d try to leave on her own, but in a place as busy as this, it was undoubtedly difficult for the Joes or their staff to keep a close enough watch on her to make sure she didn’t attempt an escape—or that a customer didn’t attempt to walk out with such a cute, friendly dog.

  Since Sweetie was there, I assumed the Joes, or at least one of them, would join their dog soon, so I headed that way with Biscuit. I pulled an empty chair from a nearby table, since there were only two at the table that was my destination, and put it down at a good spot. Biscuit hurried under that table to greet her buddy.

  “Hi, Carrie.” That was Kit, the server, who approached right away. She appeared a bit harried, which was unlike her, but she still looked cute and efficient, and the knit shirt she wore that day, with its traditional coffee cup logo on the pocket, was blue.

  “Hi, Kit,” I said. “Are the Joes here?”

  “They’re in the kitchen but will be right back out. They wanted to refill their coffees and sit here while the news is on.”

  Only then did I notice that the TV that hung on a nearby wall, catty-corner to this table, was on, with its sound muted. News anchor Silas Perring was on the screen, talking into a microphone. Below him was a red and white banner that silently shouted Breaking News.

  What was going on?

  I asked Kit, “Is it possible to turn on the sound for just a minute?”

  “The Joes intend to do it when they—oh, here they come.”

  Both Joe and Irma Nash hurried in through the door to the kitchen, Irma in front. They each held a mug presumably filled with coffee. Joe maneuvered his way around the table just below the TV screen, pulled the remote from a small shelf just below it, pressed a button, and the sound came on.

  Soon both were sitting at the table with me. “Hi, Carrie,” Irma said softly, nodding her head and sending me a smile, then shifting her attention to the TV screen.

  “There’s supposed to be a big announcement now,” Joe said as he clunked his mug down on the table. He turned his back toward me so he could face the screen.

  Kit hurried over and placed a cup of coffee with cream in front of me. I thanked her as I listened to Silas.

  “The police are about to hold a brief news conference,” he was saying, just as Chief Jonas, in full uniform including her dark jacket with its many medals, came to the lectern. “Hello, Chief,” Silas called. “What can you tell us about your investigation into the death of Henry Schulzer, husband of our former mayor, the honorable Flora Morgan Schulzer?”

  “This is an ongoing investigation,” Loretta said into the microphone held by Silas. “What we can say is that it appears to be a first degree homicide.” Just as we knew, a murder. “The cause of death was several stab wounds, apparently with a knife.” Aha! The cause of death was finally being made public. Loretta went on to pat the police, investigators, and coroner verbally on the back, but she didn’t relate any further details about the killing or the crime scene.

  When she was done, Silas asked, “Chief Jonas, do you have any suspects who might have committed this murder?”

  “Yes,” she said, “we do. But since it’s an ongoing investigation, I can’t reveal who we’re zeroing in on. Not yet. But we hope to have our answers soon.”

  I hoped they had their answers soon, too—and that they found the real killer, who wasn’t Dinah or anyone else I cared about.

  Was that wishing too much?

  In any case, I wasn’t about to back off and quit my own snooping. Not now. And if I solved this case first, too? Well, the local cops had never seemed thrilled about my apparently unwanted yet somehow pleasing ability to do better than they did in this area, but they’d sort of accepted it. Even acted somewhat friendly at times.

  I stopped my thoughts for now, though. The news conference seemed to be winding down. Hearing the official cause of death was helpful. Now that I knew what the murder weapon was, I had assumptions about where it came from, though I couldn’t be certain. Not yet, at least. Let alone of who had been the one to use it so viciously.

  “Is there anything you would like to say to the citizens of Knobcone Heights?” Silas asked Chief Jonas.

  “Yes,” she said. “Be careful. Don’t attempt to solve this situation on your own. It’s too dangerous.”

  The thought crossed my mind that she was talking to me, which was absurd. How could she even know I was watching this?

  Although there was always the possibility I’d see the news conference rebroadcast.

  “If you have any thoughts or evidence to share,” she continued, “please call the KHPD as soon as possible.” She paused, then glared into the camera. “In any case, you can be certain we’ll figure this out.” I felt that she was talking to the murderer now. Maybe that was the impression she intended—to make him or her feel scared, perhaps do something dumb that would make it clear whodunit.

  A good idea, of course, but unlikely.

  “Thank you, Chief.” Silas started to move away.

  But she leaned forward, over the microphones. “One more thing. There will be a memorial service for Mr. Schulzer a week from Sunday at the Knobcone House of Celebration. We’ve contacted his family, and that was their request. It’s scheduled for eleven in the morning.”

  I’d have to go to it, of course. Maybe I wouldn’t bring my weekend staff members, though. I’d have to discuss it with them, but we had more than a week to figure it out.

  The news conference was over. Joe rose and approached the wall that held the TV, using the remote to turn it off.

  “Hope you didn’t mind watching that, folks,” he called out to the coffee house’s patrons. “But I figured we should all know any information the authorities can provide. And first and foremost, listen to the chief and be careful—and keep out of attempting to figure anything out yourself.”

  As he made his way back to the table, maneuvering around filled tables, his eyes were on me.

  When he sat back down, I leaned forward and looked into his wrinkle-framed eyes. “Was your comment intended for me?” Like Chief Loretta’s statement? I didn’t mention that, though.

  “You know it was,” Joe grumbled. “We’re all
very impressed that you’ve figured out so many murders lately, but you can be sure we’re always worried that whoever did it will protect himself by doing the same thing to you as he did to the victim.”

  I was glad to hear Joe refer to the killer as a “he.” That was the generic thing to do, but if the Joes, who knew a lot about what went on in town, believed the killer was Dinah, he’d have referred to the killer as a “she.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “And I’ll be careful.” What Joe said made me hesitate to bring up the next thing I wanted to ask, so instead I started a friendly conversation about how I was hoping to hold another pet adoption in the Barkery soon. Joe and Irma had adopted Sweetie not long ago from Mountaintop Rescue, and they’d always been supportive of me as a vet tech and then a Barkery owner as well as a bakery owner, so talking to them about dogs always worked well.

  But after a while, I knew I needed to return to my shops. “Thanks so much for hanging out with me here,” I told the Joes as I stood up, giving a soft pull on Biscuit’s leash. Sweetie and she had been snuggling up together under the table and I hated to stop that, but I knew they’d get the opportunity to chill out together again soon.

  “Thanks for coming,” Irma said, approaching me. We hugged, and I also hugged Joe.

  Before saying goodbye, I had to finally address what was on my mind. “You know,” I began, “everyone in town comes to Cuppa’s sometime. Right now, I’d love to get the opportunity to chat with Mike Holpurn, the guy who was imprisoned for killing Mayor Flora Schulzer—maybe I can get a sense of whether he was the one who killed Henry Schulzer.”

  Joe glared at me, shaking his head. “I knew you’d ignore what I said and continue to be nosy about this murder.”

  “I’m not ignoring you,” I chided softly. “I’ll be careful, like Chief Loretta advised, too. But … well, you may already know that Dinah argued with Henry Schulzer the evening before he died. Twice. Holpurn did too, at Dinah’s birthday party. I know Dinah didn’t kill Henry, but I haven’t had a chance to form an impression about whether Holpurn is guilty or not, and I’d like to talk to him just in case.”