The Mutt and the Matchmaker: A Matchmaker Mystery Novella (9 page)

“Call him,” the matchmaker insisted, limping toward the apartment door. Reaching it, she turned back to face them. “And you,” she said smiling benevolently at Alyssa who glowered back. “When you’re ready to get that straightened out”—she waved her hand in a large circle a couple of times—“come see me. It’s Armani Vasquez. Just remember Vasquez is worth twenty-eight points in Scrabble.”

After a restless night, Tom was sitting in his office, glumly staring at his computer, hoping something about the string of burglaries would jump out at him. Nothing did.

But something did come through his door.

Armani Vasquez, wearing a low-cut top that proudly displayed her assets, limped into his office and sat in a chair without invitation.  “You screwed up, Tom.”

“Good morning to you too,” Tom muttered, unsure of how he felt about the woman sitting opposite him. His life had been reasonably calm and content before he’d met her; now it was a disaster.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Armani asked, twirling her dark hair around her index finger.

“I should have.”

“She would have understood.”

“But then she would have known from the beginning she was a suspect. I have a level of professionalism to maintain.”

Armani tilted her head to the side and stared at him like he was speaking Martian. “Que?”

“I couldn’t tell her that I was a private investigator. It could have blown my case.”

The woman waved her good hand dismissively. “I didn’t mean that. I mean why didn’t you tell her about the cheater?”

Tom sat back in his chair, shocked. “How do you know about that?”

“It’s written all over you.” She frowned. “That other stomped on your heart but good.” Sympathy welled in the psychic’s eyes like she could feel his pain.

“I don’t need your pity.” Tom looked away, not wanting to see it in the woman’s face, not wanting to revisit that pain in himself.

“I know that,” Armani countered, suddenly all-business. “What you need to do is admit you’re lonely and let someone in.”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t think that’s in the cards.”

Armani smiled at him, a hint of devil in her gaze. “Have you ever heard that saying,
the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach
?”

He nodded.

“Well I suspect that the way to
your
woman’s heart is through her dog. Dogs have this sense. Not as good as mine, but pretty good, and from what Jane says, that dog of hers has done its best to invite you in.”

“You want me to adopt the dog?”

“What I want you to do, Tarzan,” Armani said, getting to her feet and shuffling to the door, “is to show your Jane just how solid you are.”

With a wink, she let herself out, leaving Tom to contemplate her suggestion.

Since she couldn’t sleep, Jane went to work early the next morning, deciding to start with Marshmallow. After feeding the Maltese, she took her for a quick walk. While they were out, she stopped by the Schroder’s house since Astrid was at the end of the driveway. The older woman was still in her bathrobe, picking up the newspaper.

“Good morning, Mrs. Schroder.”

“Good morning, dear.” The older woman’s face broke into a wide smile. “Is that Marshmallow?’

The dog yipped, confirming her name and stood up, resting her front paws on Astrid so she’d pet her.

“Down, Marshamallow,” Jane ordered, not wanting the white robe to be covered with muddy paw prints.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Astrid cooed, bending down so that Marshmallow could lick the tip of her nose. “I don’t mind puppy kisses.”

“The animal shelter is having an adoption fair,” Jane said, watching the exchange. “I left the flyer for you.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Astrid smiled. “That was very kind of you. We’ve marked the date.”

“That’s wonderful,” Jane beamed. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I must go on with my rounds.”

“Of course.” Astrid gave Marshmallow an extra pat on the head before she straightened.

“Have a good day, Mrs. Schroder.”

“I will as soon as the locksmith is done.”

“I’m sure that will give you some peace of mind,” Jane said kindly.

“Not as much as it would have if there was still a locksmith in the neighborhood I knew,” she remarked, tapping the newspaper against the side of her leg. “Not that I’d ever use
that
man again,” she muttered, marching back toward her house. “Not after what he did.”

Jane was about to ask her what she meant when she spotted a dogless Dianne stomping toward her.

Jane immediately turned and headed back to Marshmallow’s house, in no mood to put up with the other dog walker.

But Dianne was too fast for her since Jane could only walk as fast as the Maltese could run.

“What are you doing here?” Dianne demanded.

Jane pointed to Marshmallow. “Looks pretty self-explanatory to me.”

“You can’t keep honing in on my territory like this,” Dianne griped. “I have mouths to feed at home, you know.”

Actually, Jane hadn’t known that. “There’s plenty of work for both of us,” she soothed.

Dianne would have none of it. “You’re poaching my clients.”

“The client approached me,” Jane said tiredly. She thought she was in for a long argument with the other woman, but Dianne peered over her shoulder, harrumphed loudly, spun on her heel, and took off.

Jane turned to see who her savior was and spotted Mindy, the Haviland’s nanny rushing toward her. The frown on the woman’s usually cheery face had Jane bracing herself for more bad news.

“That girl forgot her homework
again
,” Mindy griped as soon as she was within earshot, referring to the Havilands’ only daughter. “I’m not getting paid enough to have to
walk
everywhere.”

“Of course not,” Jane soothed.

Mindy stopped to hand Marshmallow a treat. She offered Jane a cookie too, but Jane declined with a polite smile and a shake of her head.

Shrugging, Mindy ate it instead. “If Mrs. H. doesn’t get her car back soon, I may have to give my notice.”

“That’s too bad. I know the kids are really fond of you.”

Mindy frowned. “I’m just blowing off steam. I wouldn’t leave them now. Not after what their father did.”

Jane, who usually did her best to avoid gossip, thought of Ruby's request to help the investigation and found herself asking, “What did Mr. Haviland do?”

“He cleared out the bank accounts, packed up everything of value, and then skedaddled, leaving Mrs. H. in quite the bind.”

Jane nodded sympathetically.

“Well, gotta deliver the homework.” For emphasis Mindy waved the backpack she carried. She trundled off.

She was almost out of earshot when Jane yelled, “Hey, Mindy?”

“Yeah?”

“What did Mr. Haviland do for a living?”

“He was a locksmith. He always used to say, ‘I sure could pick ‘em.’” With a chuckle, Mindy hurried off.

Jane looked down at Marshmallow. “I do believe that Ruby was right after all. I think we just solved this case.”

On the way back to Marshmallow’s house, Jane decided what her next step should be. It was a pretty easy decision considering Armani had already told her what she needed to do.

Tom was reading over the record of Graham the handyman, which consisted of one speeding ticket and two parking tickets, all of which he’d paid promptly, when his cellphone buzzed.

Seeing Jane’s name on the display, his heart raced and hope ballooned in his chest. He snatched up his phone. “Hello? Jane, I’m so glad you called—”

“I’m calling about your case,” Jane interrupted coolly.

Tom flinched as she iced him out. “I want to explain about—”

“Your friend Brady explained just fine,” she bulldozed, making sure he didn’t get to finish his sentence. “Thank you for returning my purse by the way.”

“You’re welcome. Listen—”

“Did you know that Mr. Haviland was a locksmith and apparently did a lot of work for his neighbors?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Haviland. Of course he’s flown the coop, so it’s just Mrs. Haviland and her four kids.”

“So you think the person committing the burglaries is this Haviland guy?”

“No. I think Mrs. Haviland is the thief.”

“Why?”

Jane sighed. “Because of the reason we met.”

She changed gears so quickly, it took Tom a beat to figure out what she was talking about. “Armani?”

“I called Armani to report my car had been sideswiped. Mrs. Haviland has been without a car for the same amount of time I have. You figure it out.”

Before he could say another word, she hung up on him.

Tom frowned at his phone, unsure of how to proceed. Part of him wanted to call her back and beg her forgiveness, but the other part of him was intrigued. Had she actually solved the case?

Deciding it would be easier to clear the air with Jane if the case was settled, he opted for looking into the Havilands.

First, he needed a little help from Armani. When he told her he was trying to win his way back into Jane’s good graces, she was kind enough to tell him which body shop Jane’s car was being repaired at. He knew he’d found her car in the shop’s lot when he spotted all of the “I Brake for Animals” and  “Support Pet Adoption” stickers on the rear bumper. The driver’s side was smashed in and an angry scratch of green paint had been scraped into the silver sedan.

With a little digging, he figured out where he could find Mrs. Haviland’s SUV at a different auto shop waiting to be repaired. He found it immediately in the crowded lot because it was the same green as the smear that marred Jane’s car.

The damage to Jane’s sedan had been sideswiped by the vehicle owned by Mrs. Haviland.

“So why didn’t you leave a note?” Tom muttered, staring at the banged up SUV.

“Help you, mister?” A mechanic in a paint-splattered uniform strolled over.

“Do you know when this SUV was brought in?”

“Last Thursday. I know because I take my son to the diner for waffles on Thursdays before school. She was here when I came in to open.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I remember cuz the woman freaked out a little when I told her it’d take close to a week to get to her since I was already swamped with work.” He waved a hand to encompass his overflowing lot.

“Okay, thanks.” Tom walked away knowing that Thursday was the key.  The second robbery, which had included the theft of some heavy sculptures, had occurred late Wednesday or early Thursday.

If the Haviland woman had stolen the sculptures but dropped off her car early, chances were she’d stashed the art somewhere. If Tom could find it, then maybe he could clear things up with Jane.

Energized by that thought, he went back to his office to do some P.I. work, which basically consisted of a couple of hours of intense computer time.

 When he was sure that he and Jane were right regarding Mrs. Haviland, he called the lead police detective on the case and laid out the evidence for him.

Then he went to Aunt Ruby to tell her the good news before a squad car picked up Mrs. Haviland, carted her away, and set the neighborhood grapevine afire with the news.

Just as he had since he was fifteen, he buzzed Ruby’s doorbell three times in quick succession and let himself in. “You might consider locking your door considering you’re in the midst of a crime wave,” he called as stepped into the house.

“In the dining room,” Ruby yelled back.

“So good news,” Tom said, rounding the corner into the dining room. “I—”

The next words died on his tongue when he spotted Jane sitting at the table across from Ruby. The empty teacups indicated they’d been there for a while. Tom went cold as he realized they could have been talking about him. He felt the blood rush from his face.

“Hello, nephew,” Ruby said, not bothering to hide her amusement at his awkward predicament.

Tom ignored her. “Hello, Jane.”

She lifted her chin defiantly as though his speaking her name was an insult.

“You were right,” he added hurriedly. “About Mrs. Haviland. The police are going to question her now.”

Jane frowned. “You make it sound like that’s some sort of win.”