3 Panthers Play for Keeps (13 page)

Chapter Thirty

Dierdre Haigen didn’t look happy to see me. From the way she leaned on the door, she didn’t want to let me in. That’s when I was glad I had Spot. She didn’t look happy to see him, either, but she couldn’t argue with the fact that he was soon going to be an indispensable part of her life.

“Hi, Dierdre.” I pretended not to notice the furrow in her forehead—or her lack of any verbal greeting—and gave her my biggest smile. “I remembered to bring Spot this time.”

She opened the door. Positive reinforcement works that way. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Is Richard available?” Ignore the negative behavior, and it goes away. “I’d really like to see how they get around together.”

“Richard? I really don’t know if he’s up to this.”

Too late, I’d heard a deeper voice, male, back in the house, rumbling. “Who is it now?”

“Hello, Richard,” I called back, announcing myself.

I walked right by the lady of the house, wondering if I’d see another visitor in that sterile sitting room. If Nick was a fixture. But instead of finding her husband sitting beside anyone in those uncomfortable-looking chairs, I found him standing alone in the doorway, one arm on the wall.

“Pru, is it?” Behind his coke-bottle glasses, watery eyes blinked.

“It is indeed, Mr. Haigen.” I used the more formal mode of address. I needed him on my side. “I’ve brought Spot with me. I was hoping we could try walking on the grounds.”

“On the grounds?” He seemed amused by the suggestion.

“Well, now that we’ve had a thaw. And besides, you can’t be as familiar with every step out there, so it’s a better test of your abilities—and of Spot’s.” There was some truth to this, though I had my own reasons.

“Let’s see if this animal can keep up.” I’d hit the right note. Haigen was responding as if to a challenge.

I was dying to know what Benazi had been doing out here. And I was hoping that if I got Richard Haigen alone, I could bring it up. Dierdre tagged after us, however, first trying to fuss over her husband as he pulled a butter-soft suede jacket on and then wanting to take his arm as Spot led them both down the slate path.

“I can do this.” He shook her off, a little more roughly than necessary, I thought. Maybe he couldn’t see the hurt in her face.

“It’s better if he relies on the dog,” I added, trying to soften the blow. “Let them go ahead.”

I took her arm, then, to bodily restrain her as the big man and the dog walked on. Spot was on his best behavior. Even from a few feet back, I could feel his focus, the way he was eying every dip in the path, keeping just close enough so that he could guide Richard around any obstacles. It was beautiful to watch, and a tonic for Spot after all the confusion. But I had other goals to pursue.

“I’m glad your husband is keeping up his social contacts.” It was lame. It was also the best I could come up with by way of making an opening.

“Huh.” She held her head up so high, I was afraid she’d trip. So much for girl talk.

“Having a disability can be isolating.” I tried again. “If you can encourage him to keep up his friendships, it would be good for him.” For her, too, I was thinking. Then again, maybe she liked being his doormat.

“Richard has no
friends
.” She spat out the final word with such vehemence that I saw Spot’s ear flick back. She wasn’t a threat, not yet, but he was on guard. “He has people who serve him. People he uses.”

This was interesting. Mariela, in the most basic sense, was a servant. But Gregor Benazi? Still, I needed to tread carefully.

“Losing a faculty, like he is, can bring out the best in people—or the worst.” Silence. I guess I had my answer. “Does he have any kind of support system? Old friends, people his own age who he has known for a while?” It was a blatant attempt at flattery. Dierdre was probably no more than ten years younger than her husband. Then again, I was aiming to find out why I’d seen that Maserati racing away only minutes before.

“I’m his
support system
.” The emphasis she put on the last words spoke volumes. She must have known it, because she pulled away from me. I caught up with her as Richard and Spot reached the turn in the path. Good, we were headed for those outbuildings. Or we would have been, had Dierdre not taken Richard’s arm.

“Don’t you think that’s enough for the day?”

He turned on her, his tone peevish. “What has gotten into you? Can’t I have any fun?”

I made myself drop back in the hope that they’d forget I was there.

“I think you’ve had enough
fun
.” Dierdre lowered her voice. Not enough. Part of it was that she had turned, as if to drag her husband off the path.

He pulled back, his bulk causing her to stumble, and I felt Spot go on the alert. “You and—” Richard’s scowl said it all, and my ears pricked up, too, though he didn’t bother finishing the sentence. “Ruining my fun.”

“Richard’s tired.” Dierdre had righted herself and turned to me, her voice overloud. “We should go back.”

“Richard?” I kept my voice neutral. I’d wanted this fight to continue. As I waited, I reached out to Spot. He was still on guard, every muscle stiff. Sensing…what? Was Dierdre that much of a threat?

It didn’t take Spot’s hound nose to pick up the conflict in the man. Mouth pulling in on itself, tight with words unsaid. Anger at his growing disability, obviously. At his wife, too. And who else? I flashed to Benazi, driving away, furious. Had his wife found a more sympathetic partner in the dashing gangster? He probably wasn’t much older than her husband. He certainly had more charm than Nick. In which case, poor Mariela’s role in this domestic drama might have been a bit more understandable.

“Let’s go back.” Richard barked, as surly as Growler could be. I was disappointed. We’d still not checked out those outbuildings. But even Spot relaxed as we turned and headed toward the house.

“Hey, is your gardener around?” It was a reach. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

“Who?” Two blank faces looked up at me.

“Raul? Maybe he’s the handyman.” Richard and Dierdre turned toward each other. Neither spoke. “I’d like to take Spot over to him, let them get acquainted.”

Another look I couldn’t read. “Is there a problem with that?” I was getting a little tired of this.

“Raul is no longer with us.” Richard said the words, but it was Dierdre who was looking at me. “He didn’t react well to the changes around here, and we were forced to let him go.”

As if on cue, they started walking faster after that, and while Spot was happy to follow their pace—happy, I thought, to lead his charge away from those outbuildings—I was less than content.

What had Raul done? Yes, he’d seemed erratic, even violent, to me, and that would certainly be grounds for dismissal. But people are at heart animals. We do things for a reason, even if the reason might not fit the response. I thought back to my encounter with the man. I’d wondered, at the time, what his relationship with Mariela had been. Now, I had to wonder how his two employers fit the bill, and whether the anger I had witnessed had in fact been provoked by one of them.

“I’m tired,” Richard Haigen announced as we mounted the front stairs. It was a dismissal, and I ignored it, following Dierdre into the entranceway. She turned, as if she’d block me bodily if she had to. Richard, meanwhile, had dropped Spot’s lead, leaving the dog like some discarded cap. I swallowed what I wanted to say, and instead picked up the lead myself. There were still opportunities here.

“I’d like to take Spot through the house again.” Richard had shuffled off, comfortable back on known turf, and I addressed Dierdre.

“Richard needs quiet in order to rest.” She puffed herself up like a little pouter pigeon.

“I understand.” No need to challenge her. “I’ll just do a walk-through.”

“I can’t have you here.” She turned from me to hang up her coat. “I’ve got things to do.”

I bet. “Do your plans involve a drive in a red Maserati?” It was a long shot. Also, a cheap one. She’d pissed me off.

It worked. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” That hiss again. Dierdre Haigen wasn’t a pigeon. She was a snake. “Richard is the one who likes expensive toys. Richard who—” She tossed her head back as if she’d felt the reins pulled. “But that’s over now, and it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Maybe you could tell me?” This was getting weird. And Spot, at my side, was getting anxious. He wouldn’t say anything—he was too well trained to bark. But I felt him move a little closer to my side. Did he see Dierdre Haigen as a threat?

“Like I said, that’s all my husband’s territory. And he’s taking a nap.” She slipped by me and opened the door. “Good-bye.”

For lack of a comeback, I stepped out the door. “What was that about, Spot? Do you know?”

“Jealous?”
One word, that was all. Whether the dog was talking about Dierdre, about Richard, or about me, I had no idea. What I did know was that Spot had picked up that word from me, and that it didn’t begin to cover the complex array of emotions we’d both picked up on. Jealousy? Sure, why not? But something else—something beside anger. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought it was fear.

For Spot, the pitch of the emotion was key, and I felt him focusing hard to figure out his role in all of this. It’s what I was training him to do: to anticipate and to act. Right now, however, I needed us both to sit back. While it went against our discipline for me to remove Spot from an area where, clearly, some guidance was needed, he was a good dog and he followed me back to the car. To make it more interesting, I let him lead me, making a point of not looking back. That was also because the lady of the house might be watching us. Despite the announcement of her plans, I thought she might want to make sure that one nosy female had left the premises. So we walked to the car and I drove us to the street. There, to Spot’s confusion, I parked. If Dierdre Haigen thought she’d won the field, she’d let her guard down sooner or later.

It wasn’t easy. Spot was restless. We were right next door to the preservation land with its wealth of local wildlife. But I didn’t think it was a deer or coyote that had him so riled up. Whatever he had smelled out back, behind the Haigens’, was getting to him, and I could feel him trying hard to resist the basic hound instincts to track something down. I also kept getting that sense of fear, of something almost akin to panic. I’d thought it came from Dierdre, but now I wondered once again if I’d been training him too hard. Was this agitation coming from a conflict in his desires? Every fiber of his hound being would want to follow a scent, track it to its source. Everything I’d been training him to do, however, was to ignore that urge to act independently. To subjugate that drive in order to place himself at his person’s beck and call. Maybe it was too much too soon for this dog.

Or maybe there was something out there that confused and intrigued him, just as it did me.

“Are you curious about something, Spot?” I asked, as he turned his face up to mine. “Are you picking up on my feelings?” Anything was possible. And if I could only sneak us both back onto the Haigen property, I might get a few answers.

The afternoon shadows had extended over the Haigen drive, and I was just about convinced that it would be safe for us to venture back, when my phone rang. I looked at the number before answering. It was Creighton. I let it go. Either he was still angry and suspicious. Or the beautiful Laurel Kroft had surfaced, with some fine reason for her disappearance. Either way, I didn’t want to hear it.

“Shall we go, Spot?” His doggy face was in shadow now, too. He whined softly. Dinnertime was getting close, probably. “Don’t worry. She’ll be there for you.” I couldn’t get jealous of a dog, too.

I let myself out and walked around to get Spot, locking the doors behind us. I’d given up that city habit since returning to Beauville, but too many things were going on now to risk it. Sensing Spot’s reticence, I gave him the command to heel, and let him follow me as I sidled past the Haigen’s house. Sure enough, the gardens were deep in twilight now. I hugged the trees, hurrying from shade to shade as we walked past those oversized windows.

“Go?”
One word again, accompanied by a faint whine.

“Soon.” I looked down at my companion. “I promise.” Poor guy. He missed his home. It wasn’t his fault that his temporary caretaker had taken off. Or that his trainer was leading him on a mission that even he could tell was off. Animals don’t know guilt the way we do. They can sense skulking, though. I was acting like prey, rather than like an alpha dog. It was enough to make any stouthearted canine nervous.

“Gone?”
That was it. I’d misheard the question. No wonder he was upset.

“I think so.” I looked up at the windows. Now that the light was fading, I could see inside. If she wasn’t around to draw the curtains, then maybe she wasn’t…

As I watched, someone closed the shades. Well, that was information. I knew that Richard was home. I didn’t think he was the type to care about such niceties, though, even if his sight was still perfect. That meant Dierdre, and maybe others, were still at home. Could Nick have been there all along? Closeted with his friend—or waiting for his mistress? Either way, the windows being covered meant that I could move more freely. Spot seemed encouraged by the darkness as well, and I watched him sniff the ground as we moved from behind the oak.

“What is it, boy?” I knew I was encouraging the wrong instincts. Right now, I didn’t much care.

The response I got was strong enough to throw me. Something wild, a rich scent like I would associate with wine or mushrooms. Spot was letting me in, letting me experience the world as he did. It was heady, but with an edge of danger.

“Cat?”
His voice broke through, perhaps sensing my confusion at the flood of sensation.

“I don’t know.” I pictured Wallis, and got a strong sense of a negative. A bobcat, maybe? We had those, and although they were smaller—more of a threat to a rabbit than a person—they would register as wild. I tried to picture one: the tufted ears, the distinctive facial markings. Instead, the image of a puma—long, lean, and nearly invisible in these shadows—passed through my mind. I dismissed it, forcing myself to see stripes instead of tawny fur. What I got were spots, large, mottled spots, and I shook my head hard. I had a hard enough time translating what animals gave me. If I started to let my own fancy seep in, then I wouldn’t be able to trust anything I got.