The Mutt and the Matchmaker: A Matchmaker Mystery Novella (4 page)

“You think he’s a hunk?”

“Honey, any straight woman or gay man, or bisexual person with a pulse would think that guy is a hunk.”

“I don’t date hunks,” Jane told her.

“You do now.”

Tom rubbed his eyes tiredly. He’d been staring at his computer screen, re-reading his case notes on the robberies, trying to find a pattern. The break-ins had occurred at all different times: weekdays, weekends, daytime and nighttime. The only “time” element they had in common was that the homeowners weren’t home, which indicated the thief knew the schedules of the victims well.

He studied the list of stolen items, but saw no mention of an antique locket like Jane had worn. Opening another file, he scrolled through crime scene pictures that revealed little. He continued on to the photographs of the stolen items. Nothing resembled the locket.

For a moment he pictured it in his mind, but then traitorously, he remembered the heat of Jane’s cheek when she blushed and the way she’d jumped as though every nerve in her body was tuned into him, the way his fingers brushed against her chest when he’d returned the necklace to its resting place.

She’d haunted his night as he’d dreamed of her wild hair, seductive lips, and thrilling touch. He’d tossed and turned and tried a cold shower, but his body hadn’t cooperated. He wanted her, the woman in the baggy T-shirt. The woman with the wild hair. The woman whose smile affected him so strongly. The woman who was so wrong for him.

There was a sharp rap on his office door and then it swung open.

Brady stepped in carrying two take-out mugs of coffee. He took a moment to look at the room, having not seen it before. “Impressive.” He placed a cup in front of Tom and sprawled out in one of the chairs clients normally sat in.

“Thanks.” After his sleepless night, Tom was grateful for the dose of caffeine. “Is this some sort of apology for spying on me yesterday?”

Brady chuckled. “Spying indicates I was somehow hidden from view and you didn’t know I was there.”

“I didn’t.”

“I sat in plain sight. It’s not my fault you were so taken with that woman that you didn’t look around your surroundings.”

“So you weren’t spying?”

Brady shook his head. “I was merely indulging my curiosity. It’s not every day that the determinedly single Tom Hanlon agrees to be set up on a date. Lord knows I’ve tried plenty of times over the last six months, but you shot me down every time. What’s her name?”

“Jane.”

“Just Jane.”

“She didn’t tell me her last name.” Technically that was true, but it didn’t explain why Tom was unwilling to cough up his mystery woman’s identity to his old friend.

Brady pried the top off his coffee and blew across its surface to cool it. “She’s not your type.”

“True enough,” Tom agreed non-committedly, knowing Brady hadn’t been overly fond of his last girlfriend, once calling her an “office drone addicted to Sex and the City reruns.”

“This one’s got a pulse,” Brady remarked.

“How do you know that?” Tom tensed, imagining his friend had struck up a conversation with his date after he’d made his hasty exit. Brady’s ability to charm the ladies was a thing of legend among their circle of friends.

Brady’s eyes danced with amusement as though he knew exactly what he was thinking. “She actually ordered and ate the whipped cream. Why didn’t you try it when she offered?”

Tom shrugged.

“It’s
awesome
whipped cream. That place may become a permanent stop for me when I leave the gym.”

Annoyed, Tom clicked his mouse, pulling up the next set of photographs on his computer. These were the surveillance shots he’d taken, neighbors, the mail carrier, delivery people, nannies, gardeners, and, of course, the dog walkers.

“You might be interested in knowing I wasn’t the only one spying on you.”

Tom looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

Brady carefully sipped his coffee. “The flinty-eyed blonde in the big hat was keeping an eye on you too.”

Not wanting to reveal he’d missed a woman in a big hat watching him because Jane had captured his attention so completely, Tom asked, “What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because after you left, she walked over and plopped her cute butt into your seat. That reminds me, why did you suddenly bolt like that?”

Tom switched his gaze back to the computer, absentmindedly flicking through the photos. “I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

“Which would that be?” Brady mocked. “That you’re single, available, or that you were totally into her?”

Tom’s finger hovered above his mouse pad as though by its own accord, leaving Jane’s face on his screen. In the shot she was smiling at the old man who lived three doors down from Aunt Ruby.

“I’m not into her,” Tom protested distractedly, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy.” Brady teased, getting to his feet. “Are you going to see her again?’

Tom nodded and then closed the file. “But I’m not telling you where or when, just so that you don’t spy on me again.”

“I’m glad,” Brady said, suddenly serious. “She could be good for you.”

Tom studied his friend’s face and found no traces of his usual joking manner.

“What makes you say that?”

Brady met his gaze steadily. “What Meghan did was crappy.”

Tom reflexively flinched at the mention of his ex-fiancée’s name.

His friend’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he continued saying his bit. “I know she did some damage, but that’s no reason to play it safe and settle for dull for the rest of your life.”

Tom cleared his throat. “I appreciate your looking out from me, Brady, but this isn’t what you think it is.”

“Maybe it’s not what
you
think it is,” Brady said with a wink, before turning and leaving Tom’s office.

Tom frowned, watching him go. He knew exactly what it was: a case he needed to solve.  He reopened the file with Jane’s picture and stared at her face.

“Nothing good can come of this,” he muttered aloud.

As though she psychically sensed his reluctance to admit his attraction to Jane Bly, Armani’s name popped up on his cell phone at that moment.

“Hello?”

“How’d it go? She’s perfect, isn’t she?”  Armani’s enthusiasm bubbled through the phone as though too much laundry detergent had been added to a washing machine.

“When are you going to see her again?”

“Tomorrow,” Tom answered slowly. “But I don’t think—”

“Don’t think,” Armani interrupted. “Feel. Only an idiot would pass up his perfect match.”

She hung up on him before he could argue with her.

Mr. Sterling was not a happy camper and he wasn’t shy about telling the world about it.

Jane inwardly cringed as he ranted. “I know, I know,” she soothed, “but Mrs. S. said you needed to get more exercise.”

Not liking her response, the six-pound, orange Pomeranian raced away from her across the dog park enclosure to spread the news of his displeasure to anyone with ears.

Jane looked down at the thirty-pound weight pressing down on her left foot. “You should go with him.”

Soulful brown eyes glanced up at her, but then quickly looked away, unable to maintain eye contact.

“This is a safe place, Calamity. See? Everyone’s having fun.” There were only two other dogs in the small dog section of the park and, like Mr. Sterling, they were happily racing around, yapping away.

Instead of joining them, the Cocker Spaniel mix pressed harder against Jane’s leg, trembling.

Jane sighed at her current foster mutt. She’d had her for three months and the dog was still afraid of her own shadow. She’d recently started taking her with when she walked certain dogs, dogs considerably smaller than Calamity, in the hopes their company might get her to relax. So far nothing had worked.

It hadn’t been until she was halfway to the dog park that Jane had realized that bringing Calamity along on this second “date” wasn’t a good idea.

No doubt someone as big and strong as Tom had a matching dog, maybe a German Shepard, Rottweiler, or Pit Bull. While Jane loved dogs of any kind or size, she worried about how Calamity would react.

It hadn’t been until she arrived at the dog park that she’d realized her date with Tom would probably take place on opposite sides of a chain link face, since he’d have to bring his dog to the large dog section of the park and she’d be stuck in the little dog section. Normally she approved of the separation, designed to keep dogs and their handlers safe, but today it seemed like a huge inconvenience.

She glanced at her watch to see if he was late for this date. She’d been relieved that he'd shown up a few minutes early to The Pudding Place, but she doubted he’d maintain his record.

Hearing the gate squeaking open behind her, she whirled around to tell him he’d have to take his dog to the other section, but it wasn’t Tom she faced.

Dianne Ruck, the other pet sitter who worked the neighborhood, dragged Wilma, a ribbon-winning Chihuahua, behind her.

Jane forced herself to smile at the other woman, even though she didn’t expect to get any niceties in return. Dianne had seemed to have it in for her from the moment she’d gotten her first job in the neighborhood, walking Mr. Sterling.

“Hi, Dianne. Nice day, isn’t it?”

As expected, she was ignored. The short, stout woman with a Dorothy Hamill haircut bent down and released Wilma from her leash. The dog made a beeline for Jane.

Calamity shied away, growling softly.

Wilma stopped in her tracks, unsure of how to proceed.

“It’s okay,” Jane assured them both.

“Control that mutt,” Dianne snarled.

Ignoring her, Jane crouched down, extending her hands in opposite directions so she could pet both dogs simultaneously.

Wilma licked her hand excitedly and then ran off to explore the park with the other dogs.

Calamity just shook harder.

“Did ya hear about the Schroeders?” Dianne asked.

Surprised Dianne was making conversation with her, it took Jane a minute to answer. “No. Did something to happen one of them?”

“Their silver got stolen.” Dianne sounded almost giddy about the news.

“
Another
break-in?”

Hearing the dismay in Jane’s voice, Calamity trembled harder.

“Yes. Isn’t it awful?

Jane raised her eyebrows thinking that Dianne didn’t sound like she thought it was awful.

“Funny how these things started happening after you started working around here,” Dianne said slyly.

Jane jumped to her feet so she could look the other woman in the eye. “What are you implying? That I’m somehow connected to these robberies?”

Dianne grinned smugly. “Is that what it sounds like? I was just pointing out what a strange coincidence it seems to be.”

“Did you hear?” another voice called.

Jane and Dianne turned to find Mindy Raab bounding toward them.  As usual, the nanny for the Haviland kids seemed to bubble over with good cheer even as she gave a four-year-old boy a piggy-back ride.

“Hey, Mindy.” Jane waved a greeting. “Hi, Lawrence.”

The freckle-faced kid grinned and waved back.

Mr. Sterling and Wilma raced back toward them knowing Mindy always carried snacks of both the human and canine variety.

“Did you hear about the Schroeders?” Mindy tossed treats to the Pomeranian and Chihuahua. She lobbed one to Calamity too, but the scared dog skittered away and hid behind Jane. “It’s awful. That set was in Astrid’s family for generations.”

“So we’ve all heard,” Dianne said dryly. “I was just saying how odd it is that these thefts began right after Jane began working in the neighborhood.”

Jane balled her hands into fists. If she’d been a dog, she would have bared her teeth at the hateful woman.

Sensing her tension, Calamity whined softly.

Mindy blinked at Dianne. “Excuse me?”

“I said, that this was a perfectly safe neighborhood until Jane started skulking around.”

“You’re way out of line,” Jane told Dianne through gritted teeth.

Dianne smirked.

“Relax, Jane,” Mindy told said. “Everyone knows what a b.i.t.c.h Dianne can be.”

“Oh how cute,” Dianne mocked. “You’re spelling to protect the little kiddie.”

Knowing he was talking about her, Lawrence stuck out his tongue.

Dianne scowled at him before calling, “Come, Wilma.”

The little Chihuahua trotted up obediently. Clipping on her leash, Dianne led her away.

Mindy watched her go, her eyebrows knit together with worry. “Troublemaker.”

Jane nodded and bent to pet Calamity who was still shaking.

“She really has it in for you.”

Standing, Jane sighed. “It seems that way.”

“Who knew pet sitting was such a cutthroat business?”

“Not me.”

“Well I’ve got to go pick up the other kids. Mrs. Haviland’s car is in the shop and without a back-up…”

She left the statement hanging in the air, knowing that just like everyone else in the neighborhood, Jane would fill in the blank.
Mister
Haviland had taken off a couple of months earlier, taking their spare car with him, and leaving the family and nanny scrambling.