Dogs Don't Lie (17 page)

“Look at her,” said Delia, taking the leash as Lily’s stumpy tail thwacked on the ground. “Have you ever seen anything like that?”

“Only with every good dog who gets a second chance.” She smiled at that, but I couldn’t help glancing back up at the house.

“Don’t worry,” Delia spoke softly as she held the front door open. “I want to. You know, because of Charles. And I can handle her.”

I nodded. But as I drove away, I had to wonder which of her charges she meant.

Chapter Eighteen

“Oh, please.” Wallis drew her head back in disgust. “Don’t you ever wash?”

I held up my hands. Guilty as charged. I’d been so distracted that I hadn’t thought of all the dog scent clinging to me after my time with Lily. Instead, I’d raced in, eager to hash over my latest discoveries with Wallis. She knew something was up and sat there, watching me, as I scrubbed my arms up to the elbow at the kitchen sink and filled her in on my morning. I concluded by asking her where the kitten was.

“So, I thought I’d pack her up, and then see what I can do about that poor Persian.” I checked the sofa and ran upstairs to my bedroom. Delia had said she’d swing by around five to pick up the kitten, and I was looking forward to asking her some questions when she did. But first things first: the little marmalade was conspicuously absent.

“You’re not handing the infant over to that woman, are you?” Wallis had followed me and stood silhouetted in my bedroom doorway. With the light behind her, I couldn’t see her eyes, but her tone was cool and her tail, always her “tell,” was twitching ominously.

I should have expected a grilling. I had to admit, I felt a certain reluctance, but I turned toward my cat and tried anyway. “But, Wallis, it’s her kitten.” Her tail began to lash. Animals have very strong opinions about the whole ownership question. “She misses her.” I tried again. “Delia loves that kitten.”

“Do you really believe that?” Her voice was low, but the tone of scorn unmistakable.

“I—” I couldn’t finish my answer and sat back on the bed. I didn’t know what I believed. In truth, I didn’t have any real sense of Delia. I could tell she wasn’t mourning Charles, not as I thought of mourning anyway. I was seeing her everywhere with Chris Moore, and according to what Wallis had sniffed out, she’d spent some time with the rakishly handsome Mack Danton, too. Either could have been the “friend” so enigmatically referred to. And yet when she spoke about the dead man, it was with respect and a certain affection. Had he been the father of her baby? Maybe she was one of those women who simply want to have a child? That seemed unlikely, but what were the other possibilities? That there had been another man in her life even while she was with Charles was the most likely. Had it been Chris—or Mack? Had either of them killed Charles?

One good thing about living with cats is that they assume victory graciously. Wallis leaped to the bed and tucked her feet under her, a self-satisfied expression curving her facial stripes ever so slightly upward. As her eyes closed, I started making preparations as quietly as possible. Wallis had a point, but Delia was going to come by. I didn’t see how I could avoid handing over the kitten.

I had my head under the bed when the phone rang. Of course, I smacked it trying to get up.

“Yeah?” I rubbed my head as I sat back on the bed. Wallis was watching me and, I swear, laughing. “What is it?”

“Oh, hi? Pru?” It took me a moment to place the girlish voice. The snap of gum brought me round.

“Hi, Pammy.” It was the shelter. I needed the work, but right now I didn’t want to hear about another animal in distress. “What’s up?”

“It’s that cat you were seeing?” I waited. “The black longhair?”

Hell. I stood up and started pacing. I knew I shouldn’t have left him there that long. “What’s wrong? What happened”

“Nothing, Pru. Sheesh. You’re a bundle of nerves.” I didn’t rise to the bait, and the girl kept talking. “It’s just that we need to decide something. Doc Sharp got a call. The owner says she doesn’t want the cat back unless it’s ‘fixed,’ and the doc didn’t know what to tell her.”

Damn Eleanor Shrift. “I’ll handle it, Pammy. I’ll come get the cat. I think it’s just an anxiety issue.”

“Cause she said, you know, we could put it up for adoption or get rid of it.”

“I said, I’d handle it.” I looked at my alarm clock. Half past three. If I moved fast, I could pick up the black Persian and be back before Delia dropped by for her kitten. What I’d do next, I didn’t know.

Absentmindedly rubbing my head, I turned back to the bed. Wallis’ eyes were slits, but I knew she’d been listening to every word.

“So, well, I guess I’m going to be bringing another cat over.” No response. “It’s just going to be temporary, Wallis. I swear it.”

She stretched. “You know what they say about women like you, single, a loner, taking in all sorts of cats.”

“Stow it, Wallis.” I reached for a heavier sweater. My car keys were still in my jacket pocket. “And while I’m out, if you could round up that kitten, I’d appreciate it.”

In response, she turned her back toward me, tucked her nose under her tail, and went to sleep.

***

I was almost out the door when the phone rang again.

“What is it now?” I really had no time for this.

“Whoa, there, girl.” It was Mack, laughing. “Catch you at a bad time?”

I relented, slightly. “Kind of, would you call me back?”

“Sure. Just wanted to see what you were doing tonight.” I opened my mouth to answer and then shut it. What did I want to say? He was attractive. I was lonely. But if he was involved with Delia, I really didn’t want to go there. Besides, I had my hands full.

“Look, I don’t know. Call me back, will you? I’ve got to go see a girl about a cat.”

He was still laughing as I hung up.

When the phone rang again, I should have ignored it. On the off chance that it was the shelter—or Delia—I picked up.

“Ms. Marlowe, Pru, glad I caught you.” It was Creighton. Shit. “I thought I’d tell you that our investigation has moved on, but I gather you’d already heard.”

“Yeah, look, I’m sorry. I’d just been working with that dog, and I wanted to spring her.”

“Commendable, Ms. Marlowe. And very quick. Our coroner only ruled on Saturday that the wounds were not canine.” His voice sounded a little too even. There was something going on. “But that’s not why I called.”

I had expected this, but that didn’t mean I had to help. I waited, turning his own technique back on him.

“Because our investigation has progressed, I’ve got a few more questions for you. I’d appreciate it if you could come down to the station this afternoon.”

“No, I can’t.” I was feeling pressured already, with too much to do in too short a time, and that always helped me build up a head of steam. “Believe it or not, some of us have to work for a living.”

This time it was the young detective’s turn to fall silent. I looked at the clock. Three forty-five. The shelter was a good half hour drive. “Look, Creighton, you know everything I know already.” An image of the keychain drive flashed through my mind. Those financial records. The cops must have found copies. The info had to have been on Charles’ main computer. It wasn’t my job to help them, and anything I said would just make me look bad. But Creighton’s efforts had probably helped exonerate Lily—and somebody had done a very nasty job on her person. I sighed, and gave in. “From what I hear, Charles was in financial trouble. Maybe you should look into that. See who he owed money to.”

“Funny you should say that.” Creighton didn’t sound amused. “You see, we’ve been going over Charles Harris’ files and bank statements, and it seems like your invoices are some of the only ones he ever paid. Until recently, that is.”

Three forty-eight. “Look, I really have to be someplace. Can you come over here in about an hour?” Maybe he’d show up when Delia did. Maybe that would be interesting.

Instead of an answer, I heard a small bark of a laugh. “That’s got to be the first time anyone has invited me to her home during an investigation. Don’t get me wrong, Pru. I’d love to come by. But if you’re busy today, why don’t we say first thing tomorrow?”

I murmured something that I hoped sounded like agreement, but before I could hang up, he sprung the trap. “I’ll be very curious to hear how you know so much about the deceased’s finances, Ms. Marlowe. Extremely curious.”

***

I probably drove too fast over to the shelter, but I was peeved. Besides, after years in the city, I kind of enjoyed hitting the gas. Enjoyed the scenery as well, the slanting afternoon sun backlighting the leaves like some kind of stage set. The occasional sparkle—a bit of open space, or reflection from a mica-flecked rock—only made the colors glow more vividly, and I let myself fantasize that I was cruising through a gemstone kaleidoscope, all color and shape. Maybe that daydream blinded me, maybe it was that tricky, slanting light. It wasn’t until I neared the town line that I saw the cruiser behind me. I lifted my foot, ever so slightly, to let the car slow. No sense in getting pulled over. But as I studied my rearview mirror, that dappled light played me again. I couldn’t see who was in the driver’s seat. When it turned off, soon after I passed into Raynbourne, I was left wondering if the meet up had been accidental or if my speed had prompted it. Or if someone was checking to see where exactly I’d been headed.

“Hey, Pammy.” I burst into the shelter with no time to waste. “I’m here to pick up that Persian.”

“Ms. Marlowe.” Her tone alerted me. I looked around and realized we weren’t alone. The veterinarian, Dr. Sharp, was sitting with a young family in the reception area.

“Hey, Doc,” I called over and waved. This should be routine. No need to bother him in the middle of pet counseling, or whatever was keeping him out front here.

“Pru.” Pammy lowered her voice as she came over. Taking my arm, she led me to the far side of the reception area. “I didn’t realize you’d be over so soon. I would have said something.”

“Said what?” I glanced up at the big industrial clock. It was only a little past four. I’d made good time, but not enough to waste any here.

“Well, some policeman came in and talked to Doc Sharp earlier. I think he was asking about you.” She looked up at me, and I realized how young she was. How scared. “They’re saying weird things about you, Pru. About you and animals.”

For a moment, the room spun. I closed my eyes and waited for everything to settle. This is what I’d feared second most. Next to losing my mind was having everyone believe that I had lost it. I made myself look straight at Pammy, focusing on her blue eyeshadow and those wide, open eyes, and tried to think. Had someone heard me talking to Wallis or, God forbid, to Lily? Had Albert squealed on me about his ferret? Had I said—or done—something that revealed too much? I tried to form a question, but my mouth was too dry to speak.

“It’s because of that dog, Pru. The one they thought killed the guy?” Pammy was whispering now, and the relief that flooded through me must have surprised her because her concern quickly shifted to irritation. “Well, that’s a big deal around here, Pru. Maybe not in the city.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” I was nearly laughing with relief as I took Pammy’s hands. “I don’t mean to make light of that. It’s just, well, there’s been a lot going on, and I didn’t know if, I don’t know, I’d lost my license or something.” I was improvising. I had no license to lose.

“Yeah, well, that’s another thing.” She looked over her shoulder, but the vet was still preoccupied. “They were also asking about your qualifications. Doc Sharp thinks the world of you, but he had to be honest. He told the policeman that you weren’t actually certified as a behaviorist. He said he thought you’d left the city in a hurry. He didn’t know why.”

“My mother was sick.” Poor woman, I used her as an excuse a little too often. But Pammy was nodding.

“Yeah, I wanted to remind him of that. I’m sorry, Pru. I guess Doc Sharp didn’t know the whole story.”

You bet he didn’t, I thought to myself. And then the vet was walking toward us.

“Pru, thanks for coming in.” The grey-haired doctor looked uncomfortable. Old Yankee stock, he didn’t take well to confrontation. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah?” Damn it, I could hear the defensiveness in my own voice. I tried to soften it with a smile. I was too busy for a lecture, and as I saw him gather his thoughts, I took the offensive. “I think I’ve reached a resolution with that Persian. It’s anxiety, like we thought.” Like
I
thought, but I hoped that inclusive “we” and my stuck-on smile would get me out of here faster. “The owner’s had some lifestyle changes, but I’m sure with some home visits, I can make everyone happy.”

I started toward the kennel area, but with one raised hand, Doc Sharp stopped me. “Now, Pru, I trust you. You know I do. You have an unerring instinct when it comes to certain animals.” I bit the inside of my lip to keep from cracking wise. The lecture was coming whether I wanted it or not. Better to get it over with. “But working with animals isn’t all about
instinct.
”

“You said it.” The words slipped out. But the elderly vet was on a roll and either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

“I’ve been giving a lot of thought to your qualifications for the work we do here. Some concerns have come up.” I waited. He didn’t mention the cops. If he wanted to take credit for the brainstorm, that was fine by me. I could handle Doc Sharp. “Questions, really. Some questions about certification.”

“You know I left the city before I finished. My mother was ill.” That was my story, and I was sticking with it.

He waved me down. “I know, Pru. I know. It’s just that we have a responsibility to the animals here. To the
community
. And, well, you’re not even certified as a vet tech.”

I saw where this was going, and I didn’t like it. The cops had scared him, and he was going to dump me. “Dr. Sharp, you know perfectly well I’m more qualified than half the volunteers you have working here.” I thought fast. “If you need me to take the technician certification exam, I will. But a working practicum is part of my degree. It’s quite legitimate, considering my background, to have me here helping out with the animals.”

“But you’re not properly supervised here.” He looked up at me and then away. Something else was coming. “And we’re paying you.”

So that was it. Money again. But I had one more card to play. “If it’s the pay issue that bothers you, I can always go freelance. Charge clients directly. Set up a placard; take out ads.”

“No, no, no.” That feeble waving let me know that he was done with me. I’d become an annoyance. “Don’t take on so, Pru. I just wanted to bring it up.”