Collared For Murder (9 page)

I smiled. “And this relates to our situation how?”

“We have to play to our strengths. Phillip said we wouldn’t be able to compete because you make so much of our product by hand. So we turn that into a selling point. Our stuff is handmade, not made in a factory. There are lots of people who will pay extra money to have something sewn or crocheted or knitted by hand.”

I nodded. “I like that. Using our apparent weakness as a marketing tool. We can also play up the fact that we can hand-tailor our garments. Phillip’s mass
manufacturing works only if they make tons of outfits in a few uniform sizes. We can take measurements of actual pets, assuring a better fit.”

“And we can customize goods easily, by adding embroidered names or using specific colors and fabrics.”

Rena leaned across the table to high-five me. “His company can do more, but we can do better . . . no matter how good the quality of his knockoffs.”

I leaned back in my chair, thinking about our plan to distinguish ourselves as the source for custom canine and kitty clothes. I liked it. We were going couture.

“You know,” Rena said hesitantly, “another way we could separate ourselves from Phillip’s market would be to provide pets and their humans with matching clothes.”

Her suggestion knocked the breath out of me. When Casey and I had moved to Madison to attend college, I’d studied fashion design. When he was done with his residency in Merryville, we were supposed to move to the Big Apple together so I could pursue a career as a women’s-wear designer. When I got left behind in Merryville, I started selling pet clothes because I’d had some luck selling them in Ingrid’s Gift Haus and because Merryville didn’t seem like a place people would trust for handmade dresses. But in some little corner of my heart, that dream had lived on.

I don’t know why I never thought of combining the two pursuits into a single business, but it seemed like pure genius.

“Do you think we could do it? Do you think people would buy?”

Rena grinned. “Are you kidding? Some people might stick to clothing for their pets, but if you dress your pets regularly, there has to be some occasion on which you’d want to coordinate, right? Little mini bridesmaid dresses, for example. Or clothes for some pet-related event, like a cat show or a local festival.” Rena shrugged. “It might end up being a fairly small part of the business, but it would definitely catch people’s attention.”

I laughed out loud. It felt like a giant weight had been lifted. The suggested changes might not save us, but they gave me hope. And at that minute, hope seemed like a valuable commodity.

Rena rested her arms on the table and looked serious. “Biggest obstacle I see is the name of the store.”

“What’s wrong with Trendy Tails? It’s been working for us all this time.”

“Right. For selling pet clothes. But if we add human clothes to the mix . . . What fashionable woman is going to want to wear a ‘Trendy Tails Original’? It’s just too petlike.”

“Can we afford to change the brand so late in the game? I don’t want us to lose our existing customers.”

“No. It’s easy. We have addresses for just about every customer we’ve had in here. At least an e-mail address. So we send out a postcard and e-mail blast to let them know about the change. Then you keep the Trendy Tails Web domain name and have it automatically redirect to the site for the new store.”

“I understood about half of that, but it all sounds good. So what can we name the store that encompasses humans and pets?”

Rena closed one eye and leaned back, as though she were preparing to ward off a blow. “I was thinking maybe ‘Swag and Wags’?”

“I love it. And I love you for sticking beside me through all this.”

Rena smiled. “Where else would I
be?”

Ten

I
was awakened the following morning by someone pounding on the front door of Trendy Tails loud enough to rouse me from my hibernation on the third floor.

I yanked on my robe and scampered down the stairs as fast as my half-asleep brain could propel me. If the knocking was loud enough to wake me, it was loud enough to wake Ingrid and Harvey, and it was certainly loud enough to wake my neighbor Richard. Even though we’d reached a state of détente, thanks to his relationship with my aunt Dolly, I didn’t want to poke the bear.

Indeed, when I hit the second landing, Ingrid stuck her head out of her door. “Is someone dead?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Well, that’s a righteous commotion someone’s making. Someone had better be dead.”

The banging began again in earnest. “I’ll let you know what’s up,” I promised Ingrid before starting down the stairs again.

“Coming, coming, coming,” I muttered as I flew down the last flight.

I was surprised to see Marigold Aames at my front door.

Knowing she’d dated Jack in the past, I was particularly self-conscious of my bedhead and robe.

“Good morning, Mari,” I said as I ushered her inside. In deference to the hot August day, she was wearing a cute green sundress, and she gave her arms a vigorous rub as she walked into the air-conditioned coolness of Trendy Tails. “What’s going on?” I asked.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized they weren’t entirely polite. But then I decided that I didn’t entirely care.

“I’m actually looking for Jack.”

I tried to scoop my jaw off the floor and reaffix it to my face. “Jack? Seriously? You came here to find Jack?”

“Well, yeah.”

“He’s not here.”

“Oh. Okay. I thought you two . . .” She was playing with her necklace, and she looked about ready to jump out of her skin.

“We are. But he’s not here. And even if he were, it would be a little weird for you to come looking for him here.”

She squinted and shook her head, like I was talking gibberish.

“I didn’t mean any offense. I just really need to find Jack, and I don’t know where he lives. I don’t even have his cell number. But I knew where to find you.”

“If you wait down here, I’ll run upstairs and give him a call.”

“Or you could just give me his number. I don’t want to take up more of your time.”

I paused. Part of me thought, Heck, this was none of my business. Give her the number and let her and Jack do whatever they wanted together. The other part of me, the part that sounded like Rena and my sister Lucy, said no way. Whatever this woman was up to with Jack, she’d have to go through me to get it done.

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

I dashed up the stairs to call Jack and then threw on some clothes. I thought about the girlie dress Mari was wearing and took a few extra minutes to put up my hair and swipe some gloss across my lips.

I managed to make it back downstairs and start a pot of coffee before Jack arrived.

“Cream? Sugar?” I offered her.

“No, thanks. Peter, Phillip, and I all take our coffee
black. The only one who likes the fancy drinks is Marsha.”

That seemed like very detailed information for an assistant to know, not just about her boss but about his family.

“You four travel together a lot.”

Mari waved her hand. “We did. All the time. Phillip always had some sort of business engagement, and he traveled throughout the Midwest.”

“But why would Marsha come with him?”

“Nothing better to do, she said. May as well see some of America rather than rattle around in their massive house all alone.”

“But what about Peter? As an artist, he surely had reason to stay at home in . . .”

“Duluth,” Mari supplied. “Peter’s a mess,” she volunteered. “He’d be an artist if he had access to raw materials, but he needs heavy equipment and expensive metal to do his art, so he just doesn’t do it.”

“Still, why follow his dad around?”

Mari shrugged. “I think he does it more for Marsha’s company than Phillip’s. Sure, he’s always trying to get his dad to foot the bill for something, but Phillip almost always says no.”

“But Marsha and Peter are close?”

“Oh yes. When Peter’s mother died, his father sent him off to boarding school. When he arrived home after graduation, he was at loose ends. Phillip would
only pay for college if Peter agreed to major in business or economics, so Peter just stayed home. By that point, Phillip had married Marsha, and she was less than a decade older than Peter. I guess they bonded over Phillip’s neglect. As near as I can tell, they’re each the best friend the other has.”

What a sad, strange family, I thought. I was going to press Mari for more of the skinny on the Denfords, but Jack was bounding up my porch stairs.

When he walked in the door, Mari flew into his arms. “Oh, Jack. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Jack met my gaze over Mari’s head. He raised his eyebrows in question and I shrugged an answer.

“What do you need?” Jack started to pull away from Marigold’s embrace, but she clung to him like a limpet.

“I’ve just been beside myself since Phillip died,” she said. “He was such a good mentor for me. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.” Her voice was rising into near hysterics.

“Hush, now, Goldilocks. It’s going to be okay. What did you need to tell me?”

Jack firmly pushed Mari away from him, and she raised her hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She’d left mascara smudges on his clean white T-shirt. I felt a flare of jealousy, like she’d marked my property.

“I’m sorry. This has just been such an emotional whirlwind, trying to keep the show on track as I
know Phillip would have wanted, when all I want to do is grieve.” She shook herself and scrubbed at her face.

“I know this must be hard for you,” Jack said. “You worked closely with Phillip, and death is always difficult.”

“But I needed to tell you something,” Mari said. “I feel so guilty about not mentioning it to the officer who took my statement. I mean, what if I’m helping someone get away with murder? Last night I barely slept, so I had to tell you this morning first thing.”

“Tell me what?” Jack sounded like he was losing patience.

“It’s about Phillip. He and Marsha were having problems.”

“How do you know that?” Jack asked.

“Peter told me. He said he’d taken his dad to see a divorce lawyer.”

“I’ll have to ask Peter about that.”

“Of course,” she snuffled. “But there’s more. Phillip and Marsha had a prenup. If they got a divorce, Marsha would have been penniless.”

“Did Peter tell you about that, too?” I asked.

Mari tilted her head to look at me, as though she’d forgotten I was even in the room. “No. Phillip told me about the prenup one evening when we were, you know, having a few drinks after a long day. He got a
little tipsy, and he just blurted it out. He was very clear, though, that she would get nothing.”

Mari paused for dramatic effect. “I think Marsha may have killed Phillip,” she said in a stage whisper.

“It sounds like she might have had motive, but we’re going to need more to go on than that,” Jack said.

She batted him playfully on the arm. “I know that. That’s why you’re the police and I’m not. I just thought you should have full information. It’s not like Marsha’s going to offer up her motive when you talk to her.”

“Well, I appreciate the help.”

“Yes. Well. I guess I should get going.”

“I do need to get cleaned up for work,” Jack said. “I was so worried when Izzy called that I rushed out without a proper shirt and tie.”

“This look always suited you. We still on for coffee tomorrow?”

Jack looked at me, then down at tiny little Mari. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

She fluttered her fingers at Jack and then gave me a less flirtatious wave. “Thanks for being such a sport, Izzy.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, I spun on Jack. “A sport? What was that supposed to mean? And coffee? You’re going to get coffee with her?”

“Yes. She’s an old friend. It’s the polite thing to do.”

He reached out to take my arm and pull me close. “Are you maybe a little jealous? I think I like that.”

“Oh, honestly. I’m not jealous.”

“You sure? Not even a little bit?”

My eyes fixed on the mascara stain on his T-shirt, and my heart plummeted. “I am. I’m being one of ‘those’ women.”

He laughed. “What women?”

“The kind that cling to their boyfriends and get upset when they even talk to another woman. I don’t want to be that kind of girl.”

Jack leaned in and gently brushed his lips across mine. “I think you’re entitled to a bit of jealousy. After what happened with Casey I can imagine you’re a little low on trust.”

“Maybe. But still, I’m a grown woman.”

“Believe me, baby, I know that,” he growled. Then he got serious. “I understand why you’re jealous. Mari is a flirt. That’s one of the things I liked about her.
Fifteen years ago.
But look in my eyes.”

I tilted up my chin to meet eyes the color of the heart of a flame. “You have no reason to be jealous. I’m in this for real. And there’s a reason I broke up with Mari. I realized that I wanted someone simple and honest rather than someone who plays games. I wanted someone just like you.”

Warmth radiated from my chest to my limbs, and
I had to resist the urge to jump into his arms. We both had work and no time for nooky. Instead I stepped back and smoothed down my Trendy Tails golf shirt.

“What do you think of her claims about Marsha?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Obviously, we’re checking every angle, and that bit of information may come in handy. Or not. Lots of people talk to divorce attorneys and then quickly change their minds.”

Jack may not have been swayed by Mari’s little tidbit, but I knew how I’d be spending the day: trying to get the dirt on Marsha Denford.

*   *   *

As promised, I tromped up the steps to reassure Ingrid that everything was fine.

“No one’s dead. Except Phillip, of course, but that’s old news.”

Ingrid ducked her head back into her apartment to look around.

“Do you mind if we go up to your place for a few minutes? I know you need to get to the show, but there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Of course!”

Ingrid followed me up to the third-floor apartment. She made herself at home on my worn sofa. I liked to think of it as shabby chic, but it was really just shabby. I popped into the galley kitchen to get us a couple squares of Rena’s coffee cake and a couple mugs of coffee.

By the time I brought out the morning goodies, Ingrid had been mobbed by my creatures. Jinx had claimed her lap, and the giant cat took up every inch, while Packer had found a way to lie next to Ingrid’s leg so that every part of the dog was touching a part of Ingrid.

“Thank you, dear,” she said as she took the coffee, and I set the cake on the side table next to her elbow.

“Is everything okay?” I asked. Ingrid was a straight shooter. She was being uncharacteristically hesitant about speaking her mind.

“Actually, no.” She took a deep breath. “It’s Harvey. Last winter he had a clot in his leg. Now he just had some tests done and they’ve found two more.”

“Oh, Ingrid. I’m so sorry. Will he be all right?”

Ingrid set her jaw. “I don’t honestly know. What I do know is that he needs good medical treatment. So we’re heading back to Boca next week. The doctor gave him some compression socks to wear on the plane, and once we get there, he’ll have close access to really good hospitals and doctors. Plus, he’ll be closer to his daughter and the grandkids.”

“That makes sense. We’ll all be sad to see you go, but I don’t blame you for wanting to get Harvey the treatment he needs.”

“Well, here’s the thing. Harvey’s not going to get any better. The best they can do is keep things from
getting worse. He’s not going to be able to fly anymore, and I just don’t know when—if—I’m going to make it back to Merryville.”

If? Was there really a possibility that Ingrid would never come home?

“You could fly back for a long weekend now and then, right? Even if Harvey can’t?”

“Oh, honey, I wish it were that simple. Getting old’s a bitch.” She stroked Jinx’s head and listened to her purr motor up. “I’ve had a couple of tests, too, and the doctor saw a spot on my lung.”

“A spot.”

“As in cancer.” As if to prove her point, she began to cough, scaring Jinx away and setting Packer to whining.

“But you’ve never smoked a day in your life,” I said when her coughing fit subsided.

“Me, no. But Arnold smoked like a chimney. Do you know how many evenings we spent sitting in that front parlor, reading and watching
I Love Lucy
while Arnold sucked down a whole pack of Lucky Strikes?”

“That isn’t fair.”

“Life rarely is, my dear. Now, I may just beat this cancer thing, but with both of us sick, we have to face facts that our snowbird plan just isn’t going to work. So I want you to have the house.”

“What?”

“The house. I’m signing the deed over to you tomorrow. I’ll need a dollar or something to make it a legal transaction. I don’t know. The lawyer’s got it all figured out so you don’t have to pay much but the government won’t treat it as a gift. If it’s more money than you have on hand, we’ll consider it a loan.”

“What am I going to do with this big ol’ house?”

Ingrid threw back her head and laughed. “Just what you’re doing with it now. Run your business here, live here, rent out one of the floors. Maybe to that Wanda child.”

“Wanda’s only seventeen. She still lives with her parents.”

Ingrid harrumphed. “Mark my words—that one will need a home sometime soon. Hetty Tucker says the girl’s been running around with Will Thomas, the preacher’s son from Christ the King out on Highway 59. She’s gonna be knocked up in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“Ingrid Nyquist, there’s no way you can know such a thing,” I chided.

“I think we’ve established that I’m an old lady. I’ve seen lots of young girls in my day, and I’m pretty good at spotting the ones who get talked right out of their good sense and their panties.”