Dead Canaries Don't Sing (12 page)

To be honest, I wasn’t sure what it was. I had to admit that I was more than a little attracted to Jimmy Nolan. Or I thought I was. My interest in him could have been rooted mainly in the fact that he seemed interested in me. That made him the first male to pay me any special attention since my breakup with Nick—unless you counted a hormonally challenged English bulldog named Abner who’d instantly developed an obsession with my leg.

Then again, there was surely more to be gained from an evening with Jimmy Nolan than the pleasure of male company. Officer Nolan was my link to my crime investigation.

Which, of course, led to another entirely different set of motives, both conscious and unconscious.

No matter what motivations Dr. Freud might have been able to uncover, I realized that I hadn’t been this nervous over an evening with a gentleman caller since—well, since my first date with Nick.

When I heard an authoritative knock at the door, I jumped, sending my basket of cosmetics flying. Max and Lou, who’d been lounging beside me, immediately skittered across the slippery bathroom floor with all the dignity of a couple of Looney Tunes characters. Lou started barking. Max grabbed my blush brush, probably mistaking it for a small rodent on a stick.

Why can’t I have a normal life? I wondered, chasing after them as they dashed toward the front door.

“Get down! Get
down
!” I commanded as somehow I managed to push them aside just enough to wedge the door open.

On the other side stood Officer Jimmy Nolan, dressed in jeans and a beat-up leather bomber jacket. Grinning, he thrust a bouquet of wildflowers at me.

“I thought of bringing wine, but I figured you were probably one of those organized types who’d already taken care of it.”

“Do I look organized?” I lunged for Lou’s collar. The leggy Dalmatian was all paws and slobber as he greeted the stranger who’d shown up on our doorstep, acting as if the two of them were long-lost friends.

“Some watch dog you got there.”

Max, meanwhile, dropped my blush brush and started barking his head off.

“I’m obviously in good hands here,” I said. “Definitely better than a security system.”

“
Awk!
Get down, Lou! Get down!
Awk!
” Prometheus shrieked as Cat slunk into the room, suspiciously sniffing the air around the stranger who was causing all this commotion before sticking up her nose and taking refuge under the couch.

“Jeez, you’ve got a parrot, too? And a cat? This place is like a zoo! I guess you must really love animals.”

“Most of the time.” I shot Max a dirty look. In typical terrier fashion, he pretended not to notice.

I had no choice but to exile my two hyperactive roommates to the bedroom. As for Cat, I just hoped she wouldn’t use my dinner guest’s leg as a scratching post.

As Jimmy sank into a chair, I said brightly, “Okay. The monsters are safely behind bars.” I pointedly ignored Max’s indignant barks and Lou’s pathetic whimpers. “What would you like to drink? I’ve got wine, beer, Coke, diet and regular, orange juice . . .”

“A beer sounds great.”

“That’s right.” I smiled. “You promised to tell me some of your war stories over beer.”

“Yeah, well, not tonight.” He leaned back in his chair. “It’s my night off.”

I tried not to let on how disappointed I was over his reluctance to talk shop. Instead, I grabbed a Corona out of the fridge and poured myself a glass of wine. I’d try him again later, after I’d had a chance to ply him with Mexican beer and honey-mustard chicken.

“Interesting house you’ve got here,” he said conversationally as I sat down on the couch.

“Thanks. It started out as a caretaker’s cottage.”

“Yeah, I noticed the mansion on the property. That’s some house. Who owns it?”

“A woman named Betty Vandervoort. It’s funny; even though she’s at least forty years older than I am, we’ve become the best of friends. Anyway, she and her husband bought it when they were newlyweds, something like fifty years ago. But it was originally owned by the grandson of Major Benjamin Tallmadge.”

Jimmy frowned. “Should I know who that is?”

“Sorry. Sometimes I forget that not everybody’s a local-history buff. Tallmadge was the head of the Culper Spy Ring, which was based right around here during the Revolutionary War. The spy ring kept track of the British military’s movements.”

“Wow.”

I loved that he was impressed. And I loved telling the story.

“You know, Long Island is the only place in America that was ever occupied, back when we were fighting the British. The occupation lasted seven years. And the Culper Spy Ring played a really important role in the colonists’ victory. A woman named Anna Smith Strong used to hang a black petticoat on her clothes-line as a way of communicating that one ring member, a sea captain named Caleb Brewster, was in town. The number of handkerchiefs she hung indicated which of six landing spots Brewster had docked his boat at.”

“Cool.”

“After the Revolution, Washington came to eastern Long Island to meet the members of the spy ring. Anyway, Tallmadge’s grandson really prospered. He owned several mills in the area, and he made enough money to build this place. And now I’m benefiting by living in his caretaker’s cottage.”

“But it sounds like you spend a lot of time in that amazing vehicle you’ve got out there.”

For a moment, I thought he was referring to my little red VW. Then I realized he meant my other pride and joy, my mobile services van.

“A complete clinic on wheels,” I told him proudly. “Everything a vet could possibly need. Hot and cold running water, X-ray processor . . . I can even perform surgery in it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, in case I ever need my appendix out.” He took a swig of beer from his bottle. “So what made you decide to become an animal doctor?”

“According to family lore, I was always an animal doctor. One of my mother’s favorite stories—one I always found horribly embarrassing, of course—was that when I was really tiny, I used to play with my stuffed animals by wrapping their paws in toilet paper and making them lie in this wooden bed my father made me. Then, a few years later, I started bringing home butterflies and crawly things in jars so I could ‘make them better.’ I even set up a little hospital next to my father’s workbench. I always felt it was my duty to take care of creatures that couldn’t take care of themselves. I guess it never occurred to me to do anything else.”

“So you studied hard, got straight A’s in college and went on to four more years of vet school.”

“That’s pretty much it.”

“And what about the van? Is it yours? Or do you work for some big organization that owns it?”

“Nope, it’s just me. I named my business ‘Reigning Cats and Dogs’ to make it memorable, but it’s really just Jessica Popper, D.V.M.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you ever afford something like that?”

I hesitated, swallowing hard. As always, my throat had instantly tightened up.

“I bought the van with my inheritance.”

“Holy cow! You’re an heiress?” Jimmy joked.

“Not exactly. My parents were killed in a car accident a few years ago.”

“Oh, jeez.” His expression had already tensed. “God, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“What happened? I mean, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

“I don’t mind.” And I didn’t, at least not if I could take enough deep breaths to keep tears from falling. “They were driving home from an evening out with friends. It wasn’t even that late. It had been raining, and the roads were a little slippery. . . . Anyway, my father—he was driving—ran a stop sign. And they plowed right into a truck.”

“Was alcohol involved?” Jimmy sounded very cop-like.

“No. It wasn’t that late, either. I mean, it’s not as if my father was falling asleep. My theory is that he and my mother were arguing. They did that a lot. He probably just wasn’t paying attention.”

I didn’t bother to explain that, true or not, this was the scene I’d played over and over in my head so many times that I’d almost come to believe that I’d seen it happen. I desperately needed to understand what had gone on that night, and to me, this scenario made perfect sense.

“My parents spent more time arguing than just about anything else. They didn’t have what you’d call a good marriage.” I hesitated. “In fact, I think that’s one of the reasons animals became so important to me. Whenever they started up, I’d grab my dog, Muffin, and hide in my room. I used to curl up with him in my arms and just talk to him the whole time, as if I could drown out my parents’ yelling that way. Muffin was a good listener. I knew I could always count on him.”

“That must have been rough. Especially when you were a kid.”

“Well,” I said slowly, “it sure didn’t make it easy for me to trust. Relationships, I mean. I didn’t have a very positive view of what married life was all about while I was growing up. I guess the experience left me kind of gun shy.”

Jimmy grimaced. “My folks weren’t exactly Ozzie and Harriet, either. I guess nobody’s were.”

To end the uncomfortable silence that had crashed down upon us, I glanced at my watch. “Everything should be ready in a couple of minutes. I hope you’re starving.”

We sat down at the small table in the corner of living room that was nearest the kitchen, a family heirloom that doubled as a desk and, on more formal occasions, a dining room table. So far, so good, I decided as I brought out what appeared to be a perfectly respectable dinner. Between the candles I’d lit and Jimmy’s bouquet, which I’d stuck in a vase and placed at the center of the table, I gave the impression I actually knew what I was doing.

As soon as Jimmy pronounced my dinner delicious, I said casually, “I’ve been reading about the Frack case in
Newsday
every day this week. It doesn’t sound as if you guys are making much progress.”

“They’re following all the usual steps. Don’t worry; Harned knows what he’s doing. Would you mind passing the rice?”

“What about forensic evidence? Have the police turned up any fingerprints? Hairs? Fibers? Anything at all that would provide a clue to who Tommee Frack’s killer was?”

“This is really terrific. I never would have guessed you’d be such a good cook.”

“I’m not.” In response to his look of surprise, I said, “This recipe just happens to work because it requires all of five ingredients—including the chicken. Do they have any suspects? I mean, Tommee was such a high-profile guy. There must be
somebody
they think had good reason to want him dead. And what about the canary? I haven’t read a word about it.”

Jimmy looked up from his plate. “How come you’re so interested?”

“I suppose because I’m the one who found the body. It’s made me wonder why he was murdered. I’ve been talking to some of the people who knew him, and—”

“You mean you’re actually investigating this case? Like you were a cop or something?”

“Not exactly. It’s not as if I have any delusions about possessing that kind of expertise, not to mention street smarts.” But I did know something about the male ego, at least enough to recognize that I’d come dangerously close to threatening the one in my presence. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say about curiosity killing the cat. You should know all about that, being an animal doctor.”

I was about to launch into my usual spiel about how I could take care of myself. But Jimmy wasn’t finished.

“My advice, as both a professional and a friend, is to steer clear of this whole mess. Murder is really bad news, Jess. Believe me, it’s not something you want to get involved in.”

I didn’t want to ruin an evening that, so far, seemed to be going surprisingly well. So I merely said, “Okay. In that case, maybe I should settle for you keeping me posted on the investigation. One thing I’ve been wondering about is—”

“Hey, Jessie? I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I really meant what I said before. About this being my night off.”

“But this is a
murder
! Don’t you find it fascinating?”

He shrugged. “I don’t feel the way you do about my work. I didn’t go around playing cop when I was a little kid. To me, it’s just a job.”

So much for furthering my professional insights into the Frack case.

Yet while Jimmy might not have fit into my master plan, I had to admit that I did enjoy the rest of the evening. True, it felt a little odd to be in the company of an attractive, attentive man who wasn’t Nick. But every time I was struck by the strangeness of what I was doing, I reminded myself that an evening like this, enjoying a surprisingly decent meal and laughing and actually having fun, was long overdue.

So I was disappointed when I noticed Jimmy sneaking peeks at his watch.

“I’m sorry, Jess, but I’m going to have to make this an early night. Gotta work tomorrow.”

“I understand completely,” I said, impressed by his self-discipline.

Then we were standing by the front door. My least favorite part of a first date. That tense couple of minutes that aren’t only the most awkward time of the entire evening; they also determine whether the date as a whole will be pronounced a success or a failure.

I still hadn’t decided which outcome I’d prefer when Jimmy took a small step toward me, then gently took my face in his hands.

“This was nice,” he said in a husky voice I hadn’t heard before. “I’m glad you invited me.”

“It
was
nice,” I agreed. My voice sounded weird, too.

“And Jess? You know what you were saying before, about not finding it easy to trust?”

I nodded.

“I want you to know you can trust me. I’m one of those easy guys. You know, what you see is what you get.”

The catch in his voice and the look in his eyes told me he was about to kiss me. I knew I’d been expecting it. I knew I’d even been wanting it. But somehow, now that the moment was here, I knew I couldn’t handle it.

So I looked away.