Sneak Thief (A Dog Park Mystery) (10 page)
Read Sneak Thief (A Dog Park Mystery) Online
Authors: C. A. Newsome
“Would you have called me if you had?”
Peter turned his head to look into Lia's accusing eyes. “I don't know. Maybe I would have made Brent do it. I know it's upsetting.”
“Upsetting? Peter, she tried to contact me right before it happened! It might have had something to do with the reason she died. I was around her. That weirdo who's been stalking her was spying on me, too, whether he meant to or not. I don't know what that means. Will he come after me now?”
“Doubt it. Whatever this is, it's not Foil Man. Just a burglary gone wrong.”
“How do you
know
? You don't even know who Foil Man is!” Lia erupted.
“Calm down. It doesn't fit the profile for a stalker killing. Evidence indicates that she walked in on a burglary and was shot.
“Foil Man has some kind of warped fantasy. He would have tried to play that out. Fantasy stalkers like to abduct their targets so they can spend time with them in private. And stalkers almost
always
make some kind of threat before they turn violent. Foil Man is weird, but he never made any threats that anyone is aware of.”
“Butâ”
Peter held his hand up to forestall Lia's rebuttal. “Our guy trashed the place, looking for valuables before she showed up. He only took her electronics. Stalkers take souvenirs, not portable items they can trade for meth, and instead of trashing the place Foil Man would be more likely to deck it out with candles and rose petals. Probably a junior gangbanger. We think he may have shot her by accident. Professional burglars don't carry guns. We're looking for a nervous punk, not some warped Romeo.”
Lia scowled. “Is this your case? Are you and Brent working it?”
“Heckle and Jeckle have it.”
“I bet they were making lewd comments over her body. I bet they only went to the autopsy so they could see her naked.”
Peter chose not to mention the remarks he'd overheard about Desiree's flying heart tramp stamp. “They're better at this type of police work than most.”
“That's because they're a pair of neanderthal goons. What they lack in refinement, they make up for in brute force.”
“They do the job.”
Lia narrowed her eyes. “I can't believe you're defending them. You don't even
like
them. Who's taking care of Julia? I heard her crying when I was there. Surely they didn't just abandon the dog?”
“It's not my case. You'll have to ask Jarvis and Hodgkins.” “Ramblin' Man” sounded from Peter's phone holster. “Excuse me.” He tipped the phone up to look at the display. “I need to take this.”
~
The barrier created by Peter's lean back did not prevent Lia from overhearing, or from the annoying urge to reach out and stroke her hand down his spine.
“Sure thing. Still up for Dewey's? I'll meet you in the parking lot.” Peter ended the call and turned around. “Sorry about that.” He reached out, as if to put his hands on her shoulders in reassurance, then stopped himself. “You're going to be okay. Really. Whoever shot Desiree, they don't know you from Adam. Or Eve. I've got to go.”
Lia watched as he strode up the viaduct and crossed over to District Five. A short, buxom woman with a long braid came out of the building and took Peter's arm in a casual gesture of affection. Lia stared, mouth open, as Cynth hopped into Peter's Explorer. She remained frozen until they pulled out of the lot and headed away from her, towards Clifton.
“
D
ewey's
! He took her to
Dewy's
!”
“Calm down, Lia, it was lunch, not a nooner,” Bailey said. Damp strands of hennaed hair escaped Bailey's tie-dyed do-rag. Her tee shirt was limp with sweat. Bare knees sported grass stains.
“Dewey's was
our
place. And you didn't see her hanging on him.” Lia looked around the empty patio at Barrio Taqueria. The restaurant was located in the now-defunct Painted Fish. “This was a bad idea.” She nodded at the tiny outdoor stage. “I can't stop thinking about the time he sang karaoke to me right there. Maybe we should leave.”
Bailey picked up a fish taco. “Can we stay long enough for me to eat? I left Cruella's beds half planted. I have to get back and finish up this afternoon or she'll breathe fire and all the plants will die from the fumes. Besides, if you're going to get all weepy on me, you might as well do it where there's no one around to see you.”
“
I
do
not
get weepy.” She slumped back in her chair. “Thanks for interrupting your work day, Bailey. I didn't know what I was going to do. Today has gone from bad directly to the seventh circle of Hell. I don't know what I expected from Peter, but it wasn't this!”
“You don't know it was a date. Didn't you tell me that Brent had his eye on her? Do you really think Peter would poach on his partner?”
“Gee thanks. Not âPeter wouldn't do that to
you
, Lia.' It's âPeter wouldn't do that to
Brent
!'”
“If I said Peter wouldn't do that to you, you'd just say, âHow do you know?' I'm trying to be logical here. Logic isn't my strong suit, so cut me some slack.
“Okay, here's another thing. You said she was hanging on his arm. If Peter was conducting an office romance, do you think he'd be engaging in public displays of affection? Sounds more like it's normal to pal around with him and they don't think anything of it.”
“I don't know, Bailey . . .”
“Do you even
want
him? You haven't spoken to him for three weeks.”
Lia leaned on her elbows and buried her hands in her hair. She stared down at the table.
Bailey took another bite, chewed. Swallowed. Took a sip of tea. She gentled her voice. “This isn't fair to Peter, Lia. You cut him off, now you're upset because he's not banging on the door?”
Lia slowly shook her head from side to side, a futile denial of her situation.
“What
do
you want? You want him to sit around and mope because you blew him off? Tossing a love token into someone's face is a break-up move.”
Lia's voice was small. “I'm just so hurt and humiliated that he let me waltz along in LaLa Land like that, Bailey. First he doesn't tell me about Desiree and Luthor, then he doesn't tell me she's been murdered. What else isn't he telling me? How can I trust him? What should I do, Bailey?”
“I don't know what the answer is, but what you're doing? It isn't working.”
“Aren't you going to offer to read my tarot cards or see what Uranus is doing to Mars or something? Break out your Ouija board and have a chat with Desiree?”
“You don't believe that stuff. Why should I cast my pearls before swine? Why should Peter, for that matter? How sorry does he have to be, Lia?”
“I don't know. I didn't mean for it to go on so long. I just wanted to sort my thoughts out, and I got wrapped up in the murals I'm doing and working for Scholastic, and the days have just slipped by. It just never seemed to be the right time to call, or when it was the right time, it would slip my mind.”
“Uh huh,” Bailey said skeptically.
“I'll call him at break tonight. I don't feel like going in, but we're training.”
“What else is bothering you, Lia?”
“Dammit, look at the time. I lost an entire day at the retirement center, and now I'm going to be late for work if I don't hustle.”
“Lia?” Bailey's eyes were slightly protuberant, making for stellar fish-eyed looks that resulted in speedy confessions.
“I feel rotten about Desiree. I've been having such evil thoughts about her, and now she's dead, and I'm going to be staring at her empty seat all evening. Are you satisfied? Geezelpete, I just remembered. I've got to call Three Sisters about Julia. They'll want her back. Now I really am going to be late.” Lia left a ten on the table and rushed out before Bailey could ask more questions.
I
t had gone so wrong
. His long anticipated perfect moment had become a living nightmare.
“No, no, no, no, no!” The Watcher stopped rocking and wiped at his tears, smearing blood on his face. He lifted his head. Desiree's body still sprawled on the floor, a crimson pool on her chest, crimson streaks on her face and neck, red splotches on her blouse, red, red, red. He hadn't been able to revive her. His panting slowed as he gained control over himself. He had to think. What to do? He looked around the room, taking in the scattered bouquet of stargazer lilies, the broken lamp, the upended coffee table, the overturned bookcase spilling chick lit and art books across the floor. Monet meets the Shopaholic.
He'd left fingerprints all over the place on his visits, but maybe he could explain that away. Could they take fingerprints off bodies? They could on CSI, but how likely were the local police to try it? There was one place he had to get rid of his prints. He started to push himself up off the floor but stopped before he left a pair of red handprints to incriminate himself. He curled his hands into fists and pressed his knuckles into the floor, levering himself up. He walked shakily into the kitchen and rinsed his hands, dried them on the towel hanging off a drawer knob.
Have to get the SD card.
The Watcher skirted the carnage in the living room, passed the tiny bathroom and opened the bedroom door.
Quick, quick, before someone calls 911. You've already been here too long. Wait, fingerprints.
He retraced his steps to the bathroom and tore off a length of toilet paper. He used this to handle the clock while he removed the memory card. He thought for a moment.
What the hell, you never know.
He pulled the second memory card out of his pocket, wiped it off and installed it in the clock.Something whimpered.
Desiree
? The Watcher ran back to the living room, but her eyes still stared blankly at the ceiling, her body continued to cool. The whimper came again, and he remembered Julia. He paused long enough to determine that she was hiding under the bed. He knelt down on the floor and pulled up the dust ruffle. Julia's eye's reflected faintly in the shadows.“Get over it, dog.” He wasn't sure if he was talking to Julia or himself.
T
he Watcher stared
at the tiny SD card laying on his desk. He'd been carrying it around like a talisman since he left Desiree's apartment. He didn't know if he could stand to watch the last days of Desiree's life. His goddess, his beautiful goddess, forever out of reach. She still came to him in dreams, but these dreams ran darkly red and he always woke feeling blood on his hands.
L
ia's team
was headed into the training room when she arrived. She grabbed a seat next to Ted in the back row as Eric distributed handouts.
“You don't look so hot, Lia,” Ted whispered, leaning in close to her. “Are you okay?”