Doggie Day Care Murder (21 page)

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Authors: Laurien Berenson

BOOK: Doggie Day Care Murder
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“Try calling him nicely. You want to offer him an incentive to come to you.”
Cavanaugh cast me a withering glance. “What are you, some kind of dog whisperer?”
Aunt Peg would have laughed at that. Though I doubted she would have found anything funny about the casual disregard with which Cavanaugh attended to his pet.
“No,” I replied, “just someone with a little dog experience.”
Not surprisingly, Logan hadn't answered his owner's call. Cavanaugh left us and strode toward the dog. Long, angry steps carried him down the side of the road.
Faith rose, and she and I followed. At this point it seemed more likely that Logan would return to the Poodle than to his owner.
Which was exactly what happened. The Airedale went gamboling right past Cavanaugh and came to us. I snagged his collar as the two dogs reacquainted themselves.
“Take a deep breath,” I said when the man walked back to reclaim his dog. “There's no point in getting mad at him now. Either he doesn't understand or he doesn't care what you want him to do. And that's a training issue. Yelling at him isn't going to help.”
For a minute, it looked like Cavanaugh was going to argue with me. Then he shrugged.
“You're probably right. The breeder told me terriers could be a little hard to manage when I got him, but I figured I could handle that.”
“You can. You just have to find more time to devote to working with him, that's all.”
Now that his temper had cooled, I let Cavanaugh have the dog. Logan looked delighted to see his owner. He jumped up and planted his dirty feet on the man's chest.
Cavanaugh didn't correct him. Instead, he reached up and ruffled the dog's ears. No wonder Logan's manners were lacking.
“So it sounds like you were happy in your partnership with Steve and Candy,” I said. “You weren't having any problems with them at all?”
“Not in the least.” Cavanaugh pushed the big terrier back down to the ground and prepared to leave. “Steve told me he'd make money for me and he did. What's not to like about a deal like that?”
I watched man and dog walk away. Too bad Cavanaugh didn't pay as much attention to his pet as he did to his business dealings. The two of them would have been in much better shape.
21
T
he next morning, I went back to Pine Ridge. This time, before driving over to the other side of Stamford, I called first. I may not always get things right the first time, but at least I'm capable of learning from my mistakes. That ought to count for something.
Fortunately, Candy was indeed at the day care center. She told me she could block out some time for me at ten o'clock.
Madison was, once again, in her usual spot behind the counter in the front office when I arrived. There were two stitches in her chin and an area of purple bruising along her jawline. She hadn't made any attempt to cover up the injury with a bandage or makeup. Instead, she seemed rather pleased by the response it was generating.
“I heard you had some excitement here yesterday,” I said.
The girl tilted her head back so I could check out the damage for myself. “I'm telling everybody, ‘You should see the other guy.' ”
“The other guy only weighed fifteen pounds.”
“Yeah, but they don't know that,” Madison said with a grin.
No doubt about it, she was enjoying the extra attention. This was the most cheerful I'd seen her.
“Some lady this morning actually slipped me a card with a number on it for an abuse hotline. Can you imagine? She must have thought I let some stupid boyfriend beat me up.”
“She was trying to be helpful,” I said mildly.
“I don't need anyone's help. I can take care of myself.”
“Good to know. Would you tell Candy I'm here?”
Madison waved a hand toward the door in the back wall. “She's expecting you. She said to tell you to just go on back.”
In the ten days since I'd last been down that corridor, not much had changed. The door to Steve's office was still firmly shut.
I wondered whether Candy had been back inside that room since her brother's death. Presumably, she'd needed access to the books and records that Steve had been in charge of. Hopefully, she'd employed the cleaning service recommended by the police. The longer she ignored both those tasks the worse they were going to be.
On the other side of the hall, the door to Candy's office was slightly ajar. As I raised my hand to knock, I saw that she was talking on the phone.
Winston, lying on his chair in the corner, lifted his head and looked at me. The Corgi's move alerted Candy to my presence and she waved me into the room.
“I'm going to have to get back to you on that,” she was saying. “No, I'm afraid I don't have that answer for you right now.”
As before, there was no place to sit down in the small room. I opened the closet, got out a folding chair, and set it up.
Receiver still pressed to her ear, Candy smiled, gave me a thumbs-up for remembering the drill, then bounced her fingers and thumb open and shut to indicate that the party on the other end of the line refused to stop talking.
“I know that,” she said after a minute. “And I will get you that information as soon as possible. But now I'm afraid I have to go. Yes. Yes. Good-bye.”
She slapped the receiver back down in the console and grimaced. “Sorry about that.”
“Problems?”
“God, yes. But it's not like that's anything new. Take it from me, running your own business is just one headache after another. At least when Steve was here, I had someone I could delegate all the crappy office work to.”
That was a different spin on their working relationship. I wondered if history was being rewritten now that Steve wasn't around to refute his sister's claims.
“Was that how it worked between the two of you?” I asked as I sat down. “Were you the one in charge?”
“Sure—at least in my own mind.” Candy had the grace to smile at the fact that I'd called her bluff.
“On the other hand, Steve probably would have told you that he was delegating all the crappy kennel work to me. We each knew our own strengths, and luckily for us, the way the partnership came together both of us could work in the area we were most comfortable in.”
“Speaking of your partnership,” I said, “I'm wondering why you never mentioned that you and Steve weren't the sole owners of Pine Ridge.”
Candy looked at me. She blinked, then frowned. I'd taken her by surprise and she didn't know what to say.
“I've spoken with Roger Cavanaugh,” I told her.
“Oh . . . right, Roger.”
“Why didn't you say anything about him when we talked before?”
“I don't know. Everything was crazy then.” Candy shrugged. “It wasn't related to what was going on. It didn't seem important.”
“You're kidding,” I said.
“What's the big deal? Roger is just the money guy. At any rate, that's what Steve used to call him. It's not like we're something special to him. He has investments all over Fairfield County.”
“Maybe so, but apparently he has a sizable amount of money sunk into this place. Which means that Pine Ridge's success matters to him. Maybe he had a disagreement with Steve about how things were being managed.”
“Oh no, that wouldn't happen.” Candy sounded quite sure.
“Why not?”
“Roger doesn't know a thing about dog care and he doesn't want to. The day-to-day stuff is totally left up to Steve and me, which suited us just fine. The last thing either of us needed was someone second-guessing our decisions and checking to see what we were up to.”
That jibed with what Roger had said himself. Still, I couldn't resist pushing a little further.
“Yet, he's here every day when he drops Logan off and picks him up.”
“Roger's out front, that's all. Most days, Steve and I never even see him. It was just a convenient coincidence that we could provide a service he needed. No big deal.”
“Okay,” I said. “Next thing. Tell me about Steve's will.”
Last time I'd asked this question I hadn't thought I needed to hear all the details. Since then, I'd changed my mind.
“He left his share of Pine Ridge to you, right?”
Candy nodded. Her short curls bobbed up and down.
“It's like I said before. When we opened the business, we knew we needed to cover ourselves for any eventuality, so we had a lawyer draw up both wills at once.”
“Where did Roger Cavanaugh fit in?”
“I keep telling you, he doesn't. At least not in the way you're thinking. Roger's financial contribution bought him forty percent of the business, plain and simple. Steve and I each owned thirty percent. So even though Roger had the largest single share, as long as Steve and I agreed on things—which we almost always did—we could just outvote him. Which meant that we were the ones in charge.”
“Now things have changed,” I pointed out. “Now you're the majority shareholder. And you don't have to answer to anyone.”
For a minute, Candy didn't say anything. Her eyes grew watery. Her mouth quivered. Over in the corner, Winston raised his head and whimpered softly.
“I see where you're going with this,” Candy said finally. Her breath caught on a sigh in her throat. “But you have to believe me. I'd give anything. . . anything in the world . . . not to be in charge. If I had one wish, it would be to have my brother back and everything just the way it was.”
She certainly sounded sincere. And Winston agreed. The Corgi hopped down off his chair and trotted around behind the desk. Candy dropped down a hand and fondled his ears.
“Even so,” I said. “Things weren't perfect between the two of you. I know you and Steve argued about money.”
“Of course we argued.” She sniffed once, hard; then her spine stiffened. “We were related, for Pete's sake. And much as I loved Steve, sometimes he could be the biggest ass in the world.”
Candy peered at me across the desk. “You have a brother, right?”
“Yes.” And although I loved Frank dearly, there were times when he could be an ass too.
“And?”
“No, we don't always get along.”
“
You see?
”
I did. But that didn't mean I could let the matter drop.
“Were you and Steve having money problems?”
“Not in a manner of speaking, no.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
“This place is bringing in a decent amount of money. Perhaps not quite as high as the original projections; but still, we're operating in the black. The problem was that Steve and I didn't always see eye to eye on how funds—you know, operating capital—should be allocated. So yeah, maybe we had a fight or two about it, but so what? We both wanted what we thought was best for the business, which was what made us good partners.”
“Any chance you might have considered leaving here and going out on your own?”
Candy went very still. “Where did you hear that?”
“It came up in a conversation,” I said carefully.
Terry had been one of my best sources over the years. No way was I going to get him in trouble.
“Someone I talked to was speculating that maybe you weren't happy here.”
“Your
someone,
” Candy spat out the word, “was wrong.”
“You sure?”
Abruptly Candy stood. She straightened her arms, braced her hands on the desktop, and leaned in my direction. Given my position on the folding chair, she towered over me. Just as I was sure she'd meant to.
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
“We're talking.”
“Really? Is that all? Because that's not what it feels like to me. I think you're trying to accuse me of killing my brother.”
I gazed up at her and kept my voice calm. “Did you kill him?”
“No!”
“Then why should you mind answering a few questions?”
“Because you're making me feel like I'm a suspect.”
“There's a reason for that. Like it or not, Candy, you
are
a suspect.”
She shook her head vehemently. I plowed on anyway.
“The very fact that you were Steve's heir ensured that anyone investigating his murder would examine your relationship. That's not just the way my mind works. I'm sure the police are thinking the same thing.”
Candy was still shaking her head. As if the act itself could transfer some of her conviction to me.
“I can't believe this. I thought you were trying to help. And now I find out all you've done is waste a lot of time trying to build a case against me.”
“That's not true,” I said mildly. “Why would I want to do that? What I
have
been doing is asking questions and gathering information. And these are the kinds of things people have been saying to me. That's why I came here this morning—to hear your response.”
“To hear my defense, you mean.”
Semantics. I shrugged. Then looked at her across the desk.
“For what it's worth, I don't think you did kill Steve.”
That part was based on nothing more than gut instinct. But what the heck, it had served me well in the past.
“What do you mean ‘for what it's worth'?”
“I'm not the police. I'm not the one you're going to have to convince of your innocence.”
Candy sank back down into her seat. Anger gone, she looked deflated.
“Detective Minton calls me every other day. He says he just wants to check in. I think he's checking to see if I'm still here.”
“Don't leave the country,” I intoned solemnly.
“Are you kidding? That guy doesn't even want me to leave town.”
We both shook our heads.
“Let's start with the assumption that I'm innocent,” said Candy. “I hope you've managed to come up with some other suspects.”
“I'm working on a couple of things,” I said vaguely. There didn't seem to be any point in revealing how little I'd actually accomplished. “Is there anyone else you can think of whom I should talk to? Maybe someone you might have forgotten to tell me about last time?”
Candy sat and thought. As I waited, I watched Winston go and retrieve a rawhide bone from a stash of toys beneath the window. He dragged it over next to her chair and began to chew.
“What about Steve's exes?” I asked. “Is there anyone in particular who comes to mind? Someone whose relationship with him didn't end amicably?”

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