Groomed For Murder: A Pet Boutique Mystery (18 page)

“Oooh! And then he couldn’t hide from him anymore the night of Ingrid and Harvey’s first wedding. Maybe Daniel came down the back stairs to avoid the party and ran into Ken in the kitchen. One thing led to another and—boom!—Daniel ends up dead.”

Sean shook his head. “I counted an awful lot of maybes in there. And I thought Ken had an alibi.”

“His alibi was a lie,” I said. “He said he’d gone out to have a smoke with Steve Olmstead, but Steve doesn’t smoke. What’s more, Ama said he’s rabidly antitobacco. Apparently he’s told strangers to snuff out their butts. I can’t imagine he’d keep Ken company while he smoked.”

“As theories go,” Sean said, “I still think it’s pretty weak.”

I leaned in, trying to make him understand. “At this point, I’ll take a weak theory over no theory at all.”

Eighteen

O
ne consequence of the weakness of our theory was that I didn’t feel I could call Jack about it. More important, I didn’t feel I
had
to call Jack about it. It wasn’t enough for him to act on, probably, and it would just earn me another lecture. I could keep this theory to myself for a while. I decided I’d have a talk with Ken, see if I could get anything more solid, and then tell Jack about everything that evening on our date.

At my insistence, Sean accompanied me around the block to the storefront that used to be the Grateful Grape. Ken had made serious progress on revamping the space for his new restaurant. The name—Red
,
White & Bleu—had been stenciled in classic gold on the front window. Inside, he’d kept the Grape’s beautiful bar, but lightened the space with cream walls, amber sconces, and simple wooden tables.

Ken (or, rather, Steve and his crew) had removed all
the dark paneling, set the ceiling fans higher in the vaulted ceiling, and generally stripped away all the architectural clutter that had made the Grape cute. Red, White & Bleu wasn’t cute. It was elegant.

We found Ken sitting at the bar taking notes.

“Hi, Ken,” I called as we opened the door and stepped inside.

Ken turned to us with a puzzled look. “Hi. This is unexpected.”

“Just wanted to make sure we were all set for Saturday,” I said.

“Of course. We essentially had a dress rehearsal last weekend, and it went smoothly. Until the dead guy crashed the party. I’ve repeated my food order for Saturday and I’ve been in touch with Ollie Forde to be certain there are enough Norwegian meatballs on hand.”

Sean stood at my side, hands shoved in his pockets, rocking forward on the balls of his feet, restless as a pent-up tiger. “Place looks good,” he said.

“Thanks. Still working on the kitchen, but I’m aiming for a launch in June.”

“Sounds great,” I said.

Ken cocked his head. “I’m getting the feeling there’s something you want to say to me. I’ll be honest—I have some work to do. I’m working on the launch menu right now, and I’m going to be going over it with Hal and Pris Olson in just a couple of hours.”

I shot Sean a look, and he shrugged, indicating that I could start.

“I might as well just come out and ask. Are you the Madison Mystery Chef?”

“What?”

“Come on, you have to at least know about the story. You lived in Madison when it happened and it involved the culinary world. Are you the personal chef who slept with all his clients?”

Ken stared at us for a solid minute, lower teeth biting his upper lip. Finally, his stance relaxed a little.

“I only slept with the women.”

“So you admit it?” I asked, stunned that it had been so easy.

“There’s not much point in denying it. With a little digging, anyone could figure it out. I’m just hoping you won’t go telling everyone in Merryville. It would ruin me, and I don’t see how it helps you at all.”

Sean held up a hand. “Don’t worry. We’re not interested in airing your dirty laundry.”

“Then why did you ask?”

Sean held out his hand, palm up, in my direction, offering me the chance to explain.

“Well, if Daniel Colona knew who you were—”

“Oh, he knew.”

“—then you might . . . Wait. He knew?”

“Yes. The very first week he was in town, Hal and Pris had a little dinner party. They invited George and Tonya Cooperson, Ted Lang from the
Gazette
, and Daniel. I was hired to cater the party. Daniel enjoyed the filet with truffle compound butter and introduced himself. We made some light chitchat, and before long he’d put the pieces together. Smart man.”

“Weren’t you worried he would spill your secret?”

“Absolutely.”

Sean rocked up on the balls of his feet. “I don’t think you understand where this is going. If you were afraid that Daniel was going to write a follow-up piece and ruin your career, then you had a motive to kill him.”

Ken laughed. “I wasn’t worried Daniel would write another article about the scandalous mystery chef. His career had moved well beyond that sensationalist nonsense. He was doing real reporting and actual news, not tabloid riffs about who was sleeping with whom.”

It sounded good, but I wasn’t sure I believed him.

“Then why were you afraid he’d expose you?” I asked.

“I wasn’t worried he’d tell the world. I was worried he’d tell
Taffy
. That sort of information, so early in a relationship, would surely kill it. Especially with someone as pure of heart as Taffy Nielson.”

Pure of heart?
Holy cow. Taffy was right. Ken really did care for her.

“Is that why you haven’t been taking her on real dates?”

Ken’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Yes. I kept expecting an ultimatum from her, that I had to take her out on the town or she would dump me. But she never complained. I was terrified that the two of us might run into Daniel and he might say something about the old scandal. But now that Daniel’s gone, I can take Taffy out and show her off like I want to.”

I was still reeling, trying to reconcile this romantic Ken West with the slightly unctuous cynic I knew.

“And before you ask, I had no motive to kill Daniel. He wasn’t going to stay in town forever, so I just had to
keep Taffy and Daniel away from each other for a few more days. I could swing that with just a little effort on my part. I’m not a monster, you know.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” Ken said. “I’d really like to get back to my menu so I’m not late for my very first real date with Taffy.”

*   *   *

Sean and I cut through the alley and grabbed Packer and his leash so we could take him on an early walk.

“That was something else,” Sean said.

“I know. He sounded like he’s totally gaga for Taffy. Not that it’s surprising someone should care for Taffy, but it’s surprising that Ken cares for anyone other than Ken.”

“Maybe he’s a changed man.”

Packer tugged on the leash. He was particularly fired up that day, anxious to get out and be a part of the world. I took a couple of hopping steps to keep up with him.

“You gonna let that little dog push you around?” Sean teased.

“Ha! I’d like to see you do better.” I offered the leash to him.

He held up both hands, declining the leash. “I know when I’m licked. Blackstone and Romeo are both way more relaxed than your fella. He’s quite a handful.”

“You know,” I said, “he’s not technically my dog.”

“Really.”

“Really. Casey is the one who wanted a dog and brought Packer home from the pound. That’s why he’s named after a football team. But then Casey got Rachel the nutritionist, and I got the dog.”

“I think you got the better end of the deal.”

“Absolutely. What would I have done with a perky little nutritionist?”

Sean tipped his head back and laughed. It was a beautiful sound, both clear and rich. I hadn’t heard it nearly enough in the past fifteen years.

“Izzy, I swear I always forget how funny you are. You’ve been so much more reserved since we hung out in high school.”

I smirked. “I don’t consider making four murder accusations in a week ‘reserved.’”

“Ha! No, you’re braver than you used to be, more fearless, but your spirit has grown more quiet. You don’t joke around and laugh and goof off like you used to.”

I pulled gently on Packer’s leash to slow him down. “Mostly that’s because I became an adult.”

He sighed. “I miss the teenage Izzy.”

“And I miss the teenage Sean, the one I could talk to about everything. But that’s the problem, Sean. We all grow up.”

“Point taken.” Sean stepped away from me to get around a fire hydrant and then moved back to my side as though I were his gravity.

“For what it’s worth, I like the grown-up Izzy a lot, too. Frankly, I wish I knew her a little better.”

I felt my breath catch.

“Don’t tease, Sean.”

“I’m not teasing, Izzy. I’d like for us to get reacquainted. If only so we can be better friends again.”

He wasn’t making any promises, of course. But I
was willing to take whatever he had to offer. If we only became better friends, that might be okay. I hadn’t lied when I said I missed being able to tell him anything. If I could start to tear down this sterile wall that separated us, it would feel like a win.

“How about we grab dinner tonight?” he said. “No Rena or Lucy or Xander—just the two of us.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, and Packer fell back when the slack went out of the leash.

Sean stopped and turned to me, a quizzical look on his face. “Not hungry?”

“No, it’s not that. I would love to have dinner with you. But not tonight.”

“What do you have going on tonight?”

I stood silent, debating what I should say. He’d thrown me a line, and I didn’t want him to pull it back. But, on the other hand, we couldn’t have any kind of relationship at all if we weren’t honest with each other. No point in a friend you had to lie to.

“I’ve got a date.”

His expression fell perfectly flat for an instant before he mustered a smile. “Good for you. Who with?”

I knelt down and snapped my fingers for Packer to heel. I scratched his velvety dog ears, and they gave me courage.

“Jack Collins.”

“Really? You and Jack Collins?”

I squinted up at Sean. “Why not me and Jack Collins?”

“He’s just so . . . thick.”

“Thick as in stupid? I don’t think so.”

“No, he’s not stupid. He just lacks subtlety. He’s a hammer and everything around him is a nail.”

I cocked my head. “I’m not sure there’s anything wrong with that. Sometimes simple and uncomplicated is good. You know where you stand with a man like that.”

Sean frowned and blew out a breath of air. “I didn’t know you were looking for simple.”

I stood back up and gave Packer his head.

“I’m not necessarily. Look, he asked, and I said yes. I didn’t see the harm in it. When he asked, I didn’t see any reason it would matter.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets in that familiar rebel high school boy pose. “Fair enough. And I guess I’m not really in a position to offer you an alternative.”

“Not now,” I allowed.

“Just promise me you won’t jump into anything. Can you at least give us a little time?”

“I can’t wait forever, Sean. But I can wait for now.”

Nineteen

A
s promised, Jack picked me up at seven. He stood at the front door of Trendy Tails in a jacket and tie, a single red rose in his hand. He looked as nervous and uncomfortable as a fourteen-year-old going to his first dance.

“Hi, Jack,” I said.

He looked into my eyes and then gave me the once-over. “Holy . . . You’re gorgeous.”

I laughed as I took both the rose and his arm.

“You’ve seen me every day this week. I’m the same me.”

“You know what I mean,” he said, leading me down the front steps. “You’re always gorgeous, but tonight you are breathtaking. Extra-gorgeous. Smokin’.”

I laughed. I had taken a lot of time getting ready for this date. I’d traded in my usual jeans and Trendy Tails golf shirt for a pair of black leggings, knee-high black
boots, a black lace cami, and a billowing scarlet silk shirt. My black hair usually fell in irregular waves around my face, but I’d taken the time to blow it out straight and use a serum to make it shine. I’d donned a pair of Jolly Nielson’s pussy willow earrings and done my makeup like a proper girl. It was nice to be rewarded for all that effort.

We strolled down the quiet streets of Merryville, the slowly sinking sun casting a golden glow over everything. It was like a natural soft focus, making every brick, every curl of ironwork, every fence post, look flawless.

I watched Jack out of the corner of my eye. He, too, appeared flawless in the evening light. His dark blond hair usually looked like it had been buzzed by a military barber, but that evening the longer pieces on top fell forward over his brow, framing his violet blue eyes. His jaw was strong, but not square, and his lips had a sultry quality that made me feel a little light-headed.

I’d spent all week seeing this man, but I hadn’t really noticed how gorgeous he was until that evening. I guess that made us even.

We turned the corner onto Laurel Street and climbed the steps to the Koi Pond, a shockingly authentic Chinese restaurant.

The host led us to a curved banquette separated from the rest of the restaurant by a fish tank filled with waving kelp and brilliant orange koi fish.

“Wow.”

Jack shrugged. “Roger Choi and I go way back. He always gets me the best table in the house.” He was
trying to pass it off like it was no big deal, but I could see the small smile and the look of pride in his eyes. He’d done good and he knew it.

We got settled and the waiter brought us water and menus.

“So,” Jack said, “I know we’re not going to make it through the evening without talking about Daniel Colona’s murder, so let’s just get it over with now.” He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes tops, and then the topic is taboo for the rest of the evening. Fair?”

“Fair.”

“I have no doubt that you have completely ignored my pleas that you leave the policing to the police, so why don’t you tell me what trouble you’ve gotten into today?”

“Well, I spent part of today pretty sure Ken West was the murderer.”

He smiled at me resignedly. “Only part of the day and only pretty sure?”

I explained to him about the Madison Mystery Chef and how we’d figured out that Ken was the guy. I was fair, though, and I explained Ken’s insistence that he had no motive for murder.

“Besides,” Jack added, “Ken has an alibi.”

“Uh-uh. That alibi’s no good. Steve doesn’t smoke.”

“Well, maybe Steve just went out in the alley to keep him company. The two are doing business together after all.”

“I just can’t see it. From what Ama said, Steve is just too darned antismoking to hang out with Ken while he gets his fix.”

Jack shrugged. “Whatever the reason, the alibi checks out. Steve corroborated Ken’s story. He says he was outside with Ken having a smoke.”

“But—”

“But maybe both Ama and Steve are each hiding their smoking from the other. Sort of like ‘The Gift of the Magi’ but with tobacco products.”

I giggled.

No lie. I didn’t laugh or chuckle; I giggled like a little girl. Something—my conversation with Sean, Jack’s masculine presence, the mystical ambience of the restaurant—something made me giddy that night.

“How about this?” Jack said, opening his menu. “I promise I’ll look into this angle further. I’ll talk to Ken, get him down to the station, even. If there’s anything there, I’ll find it.”

“What about the journal I turned over? Did you guys get any more clues out of it?”

“Repeat after me: I cannot talk about an ongoing investigation.”

“Oh, I know. But I told you about the calls to Dee Dee and the owls.”

“I know. The calls to Dee Dee, the dratted owls, the calls to Ama . . . You were very forthcoming.”

I turned my head to give him a sidelong squint. “Calls to Ama?”

Jack slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“You’ve bewitched me, Izzy McHale. Forget I ever said that.”

“But it was calls, plural?”

He drew his fingers across his lips, twisted them,
and made a tossing motion. He’d thrown away the key and would not answer my question. But it was an interesting tidbit. Why hadn’t Ama admitted that she’d talked to Daniel?

“Okay,” I said. “Our ten minutes are up, right? So we can just talk like normal people?”

He grinned. “I thought it would never end. Let’s talk like completely normal people.”

“Do you like being a cop?” I asked.

He looked past my shoulder, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Yes and no.”

“Why yes?”

“Because I like order. Because I like the idea of people doing the right thing. Because I’m damned good at it.”

“And why no?”

“The law’s a blunt instrument. People are complex and their lives are complex, but the law—at least the way cops have to follow it—is so black-and-white. Sometimes I appreciate those clear guidelines, but sometimes I feel like I can’t really do the right thing, the thing that’s going to make everyone whole. I just have to haul someone off to jail.

“You should ask your friend Sean sometime if it feels that way for lawyers, too.”

He’d raised Sean’s name nonchalantly, but I detected a note of questioning there. I imagined that everyone in town had picked up on the tension between Sean and me by that point. It was only fair that he should be curious.

“You know,” I said, “you’re one of the big reasons Sean and I became friends in the first place.”

“Really?”

“You don’t remember?”

He shook his head. “Tell me.”

“Fourth grade, Mrs. Adams’s class. It must have been November because I know it was before Christmas but I remember wearing my parka. You bet me a cream-filled cupcake that I couldn’t spin around sixty times with my eyes closed. I got to something like twenty-four before I stopped in my tracks and upchucked all over Sean Tucker. My mom and I went to his house after we’d gotten his parka cleaned, and I ended up staying over to help him build a snow fort. The rest is history.”

“I have no recollection of that.”

“Oh no? Well, I remember you being quite a pill in grade school.”

He grinned a wolfish grin. “I liked to tease the girls.”

“I’ll say.”

“Well, if I teased you, it only meant that I liked you. My way with the ladies has improved considerably since then.”

“Has it really?”

“I guess we’ll just have to see.”

*   *   *

I’d expected dinner to pass in a wave of small talk, but Jack turned out to be more complex and sensitive than I’d given him credit for. He was a far cry from the blunt-force hammer Sean had labeled him. But over plates of Szechuan eggplant and spicy prawns, our conversation turned personal quickly.

Jack told me about his mother, and his concern that
she wouldn’t be able to live independently much longer. I told him about my effort to buy 801 Maple from Ingrid. Jack told me about a girl he’d proposed to in college, about how they got to within a week of the wedding before she got cold feet and canceled it all. I told him about the heartbreak of Casey leaving me stranded, with no way to pursue my half of our grand dream.

“Maybe it’s fate,” Jack mused.

“What?”

“That we both got dumped before we actually married our fiancés. Jenny was a great girl—before she dumped me, that is—but she was a girl. She was pretty, not beautiful. She laughed a lot, but she wasn’t funny. I saw her last year at our tenth reunion, and she hadn’t changed a whit since college. Heck, she was still doing Jell-O shots.

“You’re more interesting than she could ever be. Big heart, big spirit.”

“I thought I drove you crazy with my snooping.”

He laughed. “You do. But that’s just it. Jenny would never have had the curiosity to go looking for a murderer. You are irrepressible. Crazy-making, but in an exciting sort of way.”

I saw his chopsticks creeping toward my eggplant, and I used my own to block them.

“I just wanted a taste. Big spirit, right?”

“All you have to do is ask.”

“Please.”

“Of course.”

He managed to pick up a piece of the slick eggplant
and get it all the way to his mouth without dropping it or even dribbling its rich sauce onto the white tablecloth.

“Good, huh?”

He smiled a wicked smile. “Delicious.”

I could have gotten lost in his deep blue eyes right at that moment, but instead I took a bracing sip of water.

“So, I’m starting to see what you get out of this deal. You’re right that I am far superior to this Jenny person.”

He laughed. “Did I mention modest?”

“But,” I continued, “how do I know that you’re a better catch than Casey?”

“You forget, I went to school with Casey, too. He was a nice enough guy if you didn’t mind a little arrogance.”

Point well-taken.

“But he isn’t what you need,” he said with a slow shake of his head.

“And what exactly do I need?” I murmured.

He rested his chin in his hand and squinted his eyes like he could see some part of me beneath my skin.

“You need someone whose spirit is as strong as yours. Someone who will take delight in your successes and give you comfort when you fall.”

By that point, my heart was ringing in my ears.

He grinned. “But most of all, you need someone who can save your bacon the next time you accuse the wrong person of murder.”

This last teasing remark broke the tension between us, but my heart was still beating a million miles a minute.

I mustered a smile. “Yes, I can see where an armed bodyguard might come in handy.”

He cleared his throat. “I hope you enjoyed dinner.”

“It was delicious,” I said. That was it, the date was over. I found myself surprisingly sad to see the evening come to an end.

He tucked a handful of bills into the folder the waiter had left behind, stood, and held my chair for me. Once again, I felt the need to write his mother a thank-you note for raising such a polite son.

He walked me home, and we teased each other as we strolled hand in hand. Our steps slowed as we approached 801 Maple. But despite our foot-dragging, we were eventually on my front porch.

I tucked my hands behind my back, and Jack tipped back on the heels of his shoes.

He cleared his throat. “This was a proper date, Izzy.”

Though he said it with such force, I took it as a question.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Then it should end properly.”

“Yes,” I said, my voice barely audible.

He raised his large hands and cupped my face with them. The tips of his fingers crept into my hair, tickled the edges of my ears. Slowly, he leaned down—giving me every opportunity to pull away—and rested his lips on mine. After a breath, he deepened the pressure and I felt his lips part just enough to nibble my bottom lip. It was a gentle kiss, but with the promise of passion simmering right beneath the surface.

When he pulled back, I stumbled back a step. He
grabbed my arms to stop my fall, and a smile of pure, masculine self-satisfaction lifted his lips.

He let me go, tipped an imaginary hat. “Good night, Izzy McHale.”

I couldn’t find my words. All I could do was unlock the front door and dart inside. I didn’t turn on the light, so I could see him standing on the porch. He stood there for a full minute, that smile never fading. When he spun on his heel, shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and started the trek to his car, I could hear his off-key whistling.

I couldn’t make out the tune, but something told me that one day soon we’d be dancing to it.