Groomed For Murder: A Pet Boutique Mystery (20 page)

“She’s a dog. You’re accusing me because of a dog?”

“Well, first of all, dogs are highly sensitive and they remember negative experiences. And second, it’s not just Daisy. It’s all of these little things that pile up to a lot of evidence.”

Ama sat still for a moment. She even picked up a cookie, took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully. But her hands were trembling the whole time.

Finally she broke her silence. “If I tell you the truth, will you keep it to yourselves?”

“We can’t make any promises,” I said. “I promised Jack Collins that I won’t withhold evidence.”

Her eyes were pooling with tears. “But that’s just it.
None of it is evidence of anything. You’re right—Jordan is Daniel’s child. And I never told Daniel that I’d gotten pregnant. It would have killed Steve, and I was so in love with him. I
am
so in love with him. With Daniel, it was all physical.”

In my mind, the fact that Casey had cheated on me was a sign that he’d probably never loved me at all. Was it possible for love and infidelity to coexist?

“Why did you sleep with Daniel if you loved Steve so much?”

She shrugged, and wiped away a tear with a French-tipped finger. “See, we’d been trying to get pregnant for a long time, and we just couldn’t seem to get there. It was putting an amazing amount of stress on our relationship. Every time we had sex, it felt like we were gearing up to march into battle. I just wanted one completely uncomplicated night with someone. And Daniel Colona was a very tempting man.”

She uttered a sharp sound, somewhere between laughter and pain. “Wouldn’t you know it? I work for years to have a child with my husband, and no dice. One night of infidelity and suddenly I’m Fertile Myrtle.”

“But you never told Daniel? Then how did he figure it out?”

“Oh, he didn’t until he got to town. He came to investigate those ridiculous owls and whether their habitat would be destroyed. He apparently saw me with Jordan in the park and quickly put two and two together.”

“Did you talk to him about the child?”

“Yes.” She nodded, tears now streaming down her face. “We spoke three times. The first devolved quickly into an argument, but during the course of the shouting, I admitted Jordan was his. The other two times we spoke, he called and we met in his apartment.”

I frowned. “I never saw you.”

“Daniel let me in through the kitchen and up the back stairs. That’s when Daisy probably latched on to my voice. I brought pictures and footprints and macaroni art . . . all the things Daniel had missed.”

“Did you fight? Is that why Daisy gets so agitated when you’re around?”

Ama flushed. “Honestly, you can’t let this get out. It wouldn’t help anyone with anything. But both times I visited his apartment, we were, uh, intimate.”

“Holy cow,” Rena gasped.

I shot her a quelling look and reached out to take Ama’s hand. “It’s okay, Ama. We all make mistakes.”

She squeezed my hand. “It was just so sentimental, looking through Jordan’s baby things with the man who had given him to me. I shouldn’t have done it. I broke my vows again. But I got caught up in the moment.”

“Did Daniel want visitation or custody?”

“Yes.” She nodded miserably. “And he deserved it. It wasn’t right of me to keep Jordan a secret for so long. I was trying to figure out how to tell Steve, but then Daniel died, and suddenly the problem was gone.”

Rena cleared her throat. “That’s precisely the
problem, Ama. Daniel’s death solved a huge problem for you. That’s what we call ‘motive.’”

Ama became animated again. “But I’m telling you, I didn’t kill him. He was the father of my child. Besides, I couldn’t have killed him. I was taking pictures of the wedding the whole time.”

I remembered that she’d been quick to get to the front of the room to take pictures of Daniel’s body. Her distress at the time made more sense since she knew the victim. But she was out of breath when she started taking those crime scene photos.

“You were panting,” I said. “When you got up to the altar to take pictures of Daniel’s body, you were breathing hard like you’d just run down a flight of stairs.”

“I was breathing hard because I had to force my way through the crowd with all my equipment. Steve had gone out for some air just before Daniel tumbled down the stairs. He’d left me with all of my camera gear, which is a lot of weight for someone my size to carry.

“Look, here are the photos I took. You can see I didn’t miss a moment.”

She pulled a tablet computer out of a pocket in one of her bags, opened up a file labeled “Ing_Harv_Wedding,” and began scrolling through the photos. There was Harvey standing by the altar, one of me talking with Pris, a photo of my sisters whispering to each other, one of Hetty and Sean Tucker sitting next to Louise and Jack Collins, the two men exchanging hard glares. Finally, there was a string of pictures that ran from Ingrid’s taupe pumps appearing on the staircase to the chaos and confusion when the body fell down
the stairs. There was a short break, when, presumably, Ama was forcing her way to the front of the crowd, and then pictures of me and Jack kneeling by Daniel’s dead body.

It was pretty compelling evidence. Ama couldn’t have done it.

Twenty-one

W
hen Ama left, both Rena and I sank into a funk. Not only had we once again failed to find the real killer, but we’d made poor Ama cry for nothing. When Dolly had told us about Ingrid and her first husband, Arnold’s, problem, when he’d cheated on her with Jane Porter, I thought that must have been the most horrible burden to bear through their long marriage. But at least the truth was out between the two of them. Ama carried her secret on her own, hiding something so big from the man she loved. I couldn’t help but feel for her.

The door had barely closed behind Ama when Richard Greene made his way into the store. I stopped midway through the process of moving a rack of spangled leashes to the back of the barkery, where they’d be out of the way for the next day’s ceremony. I stifled a sigh, just waiting for the next gambit to close down Trendy Tails.

“Miss McHale. Miss Hamilton.” He nodded his gentlemanly greeting.

“Hi, Richard. What can I do for you today?”

He thrust his chin out as though steeling himself for a blow.

“I am here to . . .” He coughed and shuffled his feet. “I am here to apologize.”

“Apologize? Whatever for?”

“For being so hard on you ladies when it comes to your business here. I was speaking with Dorothy the other night, while we had a bite to eat. . . .”

For a moment, I completely tuned out what he was saying, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that Aunt Dolly had gone on a date with Richard Greene. And that she’d managed to keep it a secret from the rest of us. When I finally processed that little bit of information, Richard was halfway through his speech.

“. . . I have to admit she was correct. I’ve been too hard on you young women. At least you’re trying to bring business to the community, and you’re not just sitting around waiting for someone to take care of you.”

“Thank you, Richard,” I said.

“Yeah,” Rena mumbled, clearly in shock, “thank you.”

“I still insist on you obeying the law, but Dorothy says you’ve already been in touch with the Department of Agriculture and are working on coming up to code. I expect you to have your food properly licensed and labeled by July, but I won’t report you before then.”

Not the warmest apology I’d ever received, but definitely one of the most unexpected.

“We promise we’ll work with the MDA until everything is resolved. I think July is completely fair,” I said.

I couldn’t resist a little teasing. “So you and Aunt Dolly, huh?”

Richard coughed and glared at me.

“Don’t get any ideas, young lady. Dorothy is a fine woman, and it is sometimes nice to share the companionship of one of your peers.”

Didn’t I know the truth of that? I caught a glimpse of Rena grinning out of the corner of my eye, and I was worried she’d push it further. No sense poking a sleeping bear.

“I’m glad you and Dolly had a chance to catch up and get to know one another a little better,” I said.

He harrumphed, seemingly placated.

“Richard,” I said. “Any chance you have space for another dog? Daisy May needs a home pretty bad, and she’s a great dog. Hasn’t made a single mess in the house, hasn’t chewed anything other than toys, and she’s quiet as a mouse.”

The dog in question was lying on the floor gnawing on a rawhide toy. As if she knew we were talking about her, she looked up, raised her ears, and tilted her head to the side.

Richard looked her up and down, eyes squinted.

“She looks like a fine dog,” he said, “but MacArthur flies solo.”

“Oh,” I said, genuinely disappointed. Richard Greene might be a pain in my patoot, but there was no question he loved his dog. It would have felt good entrusting Daisy to such a solid person.

Richard cleared his throat. “I have to get back to the shop. Left MacArthur in charge.”

Without further ado, he left.

I glanced down at Packer, who was chewing on his own spitty rawhide toy. “Listen, little guy, I am
never
leaving you in charge of the store.”

Rena whistled low. “Holy cow, that is a relief. I’ve spent at least an hour on the phone with the MDA ever since Richard brought up the problem, and they still can’t figure out which forms I do and do not have to fill out. Richard giving us until July gives us some serious breathing room.”

“I’m still trying to get past the fact that Aunt Dolly went on a date with the man and managed to sweet-talk him into apologizing.”

Rena shook her head, clicking her tongue. “Don’t underestimate the power of Dolly’s raw feminine energy. That woman has got it going on.”

We both collapsed into a heap of giggles.

When we straightened up, I continued pulling the rack of leashes into the corner. I sobered quickly. Aunt Dolly had done us yet another favor. I felt so deeply in her debt both for the money she’d loaned me to start my business and for her confidence in me, and now she’d run interference between Richard and me twice. It seemed the least I could do was deliver one legitimate murder suspect to the police so my aunt wouldn’t be convicted for a crime she didn’t commit.

“What are you two up to? All that laughter makes me very nervous.” Ingrid made her way carefully
down the stairs, a stack of glass dessert plates rattling in her hands.

“We were talking about Dolly,” Rena said.

“Well, that is a humorous subject,” Ingrid deadpanned.

“What’s with the plates?” Rena asked.

“Oh, these old things were up in the attic, and I thought they would be nice to use for the cake at the wedding.”

“The attic?” I gasped.

“Yes. Harvey went up to get them.”

I gasped. The thought of frail Harvey climbing a rickety folding ladder up into the must and debris of that attic truly terrified me. The words “broken hip” were flashing like neon in my brain.

Ingrid tutted softly. “Give us some credit, Izzy. We may be old, but we do have our wits about us. I held the ladder, and I knew exactly where to find the boxes of plates. He handed them down with great care.” She paused. “And I had nine-one-one punched into my phone, ready to hit ‘send.’”

I rushed over to take the plates from Ingrid’s hands and then nearly dropped them when the bell over our front door jingled. We all turned to find Jane Porter standing just inside the doorway.

Rena and I exchanged nervous glances.

“Hello, Ingrid. Girls.”

“Hello, Jane,” Ingrid replied. “What brings you to our doorstep today? I didn’t know you had a furry friend to pamper.”

“I don’t. I came to see you. Girls, would you mind giving us a minute?”

Rena and I started beating a hasty retreat to the back kitchen.

“No,” Ingrid stated.

We stopped walking midstride.

“Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of these two. In fact, I’d prefer they stay.” Ingrid’s words froze hard in the air between us all.

Jane sighed. “I wanted to talk to you about the picture.”

“Right. The picture. If you meant to hurt me, you did a fine job of it.”

“Ingrid. That wasn’t my intent at all. Look, this thing between us has been festering for almost thirty-five years. Knute Hammer isn’t just my arm candy.”

I coughed to cover a laugh. Knute was a far sight from arm candy.

“We talk,” Jane continued. “We’ve been talking about the need to put things in the past right before you can move forward with a clean slate. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“By reminding me of your affair with my husband,” Ingrid snapped.

“No.” Jane sighed again and her shoulders sagged. “I should have insisted on giving you that picture myself so I could have explained. I took that picture of Arnold one day during our affair. We were picnicking down by Badger Lake, and the light was just perfect. And he looked so terribly happy.”

“I noticed,” Ingrid said, her voice tight with emotion.

“You know what we’d been talking about? What made him so happy? You. He’d told me a story about you trying to refinish the wood floors in this very room, and he laughed.” Jane raised a hand, fending off comment. “Not at you, but with joy. That memory of you gave him joy.

“See, I wasn’t happy in my marriage, and I harbored hopes that the affair might turn into something real. But that was the day when I knew it would never be more than a fling. That was the day that I knew that Arnold was with me because he was lonely, but that he loved you deeply.”

I glanced at Ingrid, and I’ll be darned if I didn’t see the reflection of tears in her eyes.

“Your marriage was real, Ingrid. Your love was real.”

*   *   *

Rena fixed Ingrid a cup of tea, and sent her upstairs. She was clearly overwrought and needed the time to decompress.

Late afternoon brought a steady flow of customers, all of whom flocked immediately to the center island display that Ingrid and I had festooned in bright springtime colors. She’d made the right choice going for bold rather than pastel. Rena’s barkery was hopping, too, with all the customers lured to her baked goods by the luscious scent of carrot-carob cupcakes wafting from the kitchen.

I had just finished wrapping a sparkling pink tutu and a matching pink hair bow for a woman leading a Lhasa apso on a rhinestone-studded leash, when Pamela Rawlins walked through the front door.

I put on my biggest, most welcoming smile, and was happy to see her return it.

“How’s Tonga?” I asked.

“Doing well. Thank you for asking. She’s been wearing the collar I bought from you, and I must say the craftsmanship is superb.”

“I try to make as much in-house as I can, but I have a supplier for my leather goods. She’s a genius with dying and stitching.”

“Well,” Pamela said, “as you can tell by Tonga’s absence, I’m not here to shop. I bring you good news.”

I felt my heart skip a beat.
Please, please, please . . .

“I’ve spoken with our director, Philip Denford, and the rest of the board, and we’re in agreement that Merryville will make a perfect venue for our summer spectacular in July, our biggest event of the year.”

“Oh, wow. That’s excellent news.”

“Yes. We were a bit concerned that the town was too small, that there wouldn’t be a building big enough to host the main event. After all, we’ll be awarding the Denford Prize, a bejeweled collar dangle worth well over a hundred thousand dollars. We couldn’t very well just use pop-up tents.”

“So, uh, what did you find?” I didn’t want to jinx anything, but I really couldn’t imagine anyplace bigger than the high school gymnasium.

“We spoke with Hal Olson, Pris’s husband. . . . Do you know him?”

Only too well, I thought. I confined my spoken answer to “Yes.”

“Well, he has some development he’s working on, and he’s decided to build a convention center on the site. He assures us it will be done by the end of June, and our July event will be the first held in the new center.”

My mind was spinning. Hal was scrapping the half-built condos in favor of a convention center that couldn’t be more than a thought in his head? He’d promised it by July? And he somehow thought all this would work out despite the burrowing owls?

It sounded crazy. But like a good small-town girl, I opted to keep crazy in the family.

“Sounds perfect,” I said.

“Well, Tonga and I are hitting the road for Fargo first thing in the morning, and I want to take a few last pictures to share with the board. But I thought you’d want to know about the decision.”

I reached my hand across the counter to shake hers. “I’m so glad you stopped by. This made my day.”

She smiled, an expression that appeared awkward on her face. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch before July. But for now . . .”

As soon as the door closed behind her, I rushed to find Rena. “Guess what. That cat show? It’s coming to Merryville!”

She squealed in delight. The chains she was wearing
around her neck jangled as she hopped around in exuberant joy.

I grabbed her arms and we hopped together in pure glee. Still, at the back of my mind, I felt that we’d just had too much good news. Part of me was waiting for the other shoe to drop.