Murder on the Hoof: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (21 page)

Hayley leaned closer and lowered her voice. “If you’re not interested in Billy, then I suggest you let him know. I don’t want to see his heart broken.”

“We don’t have that type of relationship,” she said, not wanting to get into the particulars of how she and Bill felt about each other with his ex-fiancée.

Hayley waved her hand dismissively. “Oh please. Everyone can see it.”

“See what?”

“Antonio, can I get your opinion on something?” Hayley called to the group in the kitchen.

Oh dear, no. Please leave Pinky out of this.

Pinky left Jason and Wendy in the kitchen and joined them. “What is it?” he asked.

“Colleen says she doesn’t have
that type
of relationship with the sheriff,” Hayley said, and raised her brow in a skeptical expression.

Colleen wanted to hide under a rock. What had she done to deserve this? She pleaded with her eyes for him to remain silent.

“I don’t know what type of relationship they have,” Pinky said. “But I’ve heard some have placed bets. Personally, I say don’t count me out as a long shot.”

Hayley folded her arms in triumph. Colleen felt the blood drain from her face. Pinky chuckled.

“I’m teasing about the betting, but not about me,” he said, heading back toward the kitchen. “Sure I can’t get you any champagne?”

Colleen shook her head in stunned, mortified silence.

Hayley stepped closer. “You and Bill … you’re right for each other. That’s a rare thing,” she said, and walked away to join the others in the kitchen.

Colleen’s mind was awhirl. Had everyone in Corolla been gossiping about her and Bill? And if so, for how long? How could it have been that obvious? Nothing had actually transpired between them other than a handful of innocent dinners. How much had Bill told Hayley? She needed to get some fresh ocean air so she could think. She slipped out, closed the door quietly behind her, and descended the stairs.

“Sparky,” she called as she headed toward the back of the house and the private boardwalk that led to the beach.

She rounded the side of the building and found the dog at the back by the pool and shuffleboard. “Come on,” she said.

He looked at her and then back at a sliding glass door.

“Walk,” she said, encouraging him to follow.

Usually the word
walk
sent Sparky running and his tail wagging. Instead, he cocked his head and stared at the door. Her eyes narrowed and she came to a stop. Was the door open a crack? Was he trying to get in? The sound of something falling to the floor inside caused Sparky to bark, and a surge of adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. An intruder was inside the house.

“Stay,” she quietly commanded the dog, and took off to the front of the house. Her heart raced as she took the steps two at a time and burst through the door. She leaped up the steps into the great room and dashed to the group laughing in the kitchen.

“Jason and Wendy, take Hayley into a back room and lock the door,” she said, trying to speak quietly and between breaths. “Pinky, you come with me.”

“What’s going on?” Hayley asked.

Colleen locked eyes with Jason and his pupils widened in understanding.

“Let’s do as she says,” he said, and ushered Hayley to a back room with Wendy.

“There’s someone downstairs,” she said, turning to Pinky. “Sparky’s on the door.”

“Someone broke in?” Pinky asked, heading toward the stairs that led down to the lower level.

Colleen touched his arm to stop him and hit Bill’s number on her phone. He picked up after the first ring.

“Hey,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I think Hayley’s stalker is in her house.”

“What?”

“Hayley’s locked safely in a room. Pinky and I are upstairs.”

“Stay right where you are. I’m on my way.”

Colleen hung up. She paced. So did Pinky. How could they just sit there while the stalker was downstairs? She looked at Pinky and knew he was thinking the same thing.

“I’m going down there,” she said.

Pinky grabbed her arm, and she was surprised by the strength of his grip. “In this case,” he said, “I don’t think it should be ladies first.”

“You got an extinguisher in the house?” she asked.

“Of course. In that closet.”

She rushed to the closet and found the extinguisher hanging on the wall. If she needed to, she could take the woman out with extinguishing agent. She returned to the foyer, where Pinky was impatiently waiting at the top of the stairs, and gave him a thumbs-up.

They crept down the steps, Colleen peering over Pinky’s shoulder. They reached a landing, heard movement below, and, a second later, were plunged into darkness. They heard the muffled sounds of the group speaking excitedly on the floor above.

“The breaker’s been flipped,” Pinky said.

Sparky barked below.

“Let’s hurry,” Colleen said, and nudged him forward.

They stumbled down the dark stairs and into the recreation room. The security lights outside the pool lit the room just enough that she could make out a shadow near the glass door. Sparky paced outside.

“I’ll get the lights,” Pinky whispered, and made his way to the breaker box.

She squinted and studied the shadow. It moved to the left toward a window. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” she warned, and lifted the extinguisher.

Red and blue lights flashed across the dunes. She heard the sound of Bill’s vehicle sliding to a stop in front of the house and a car door opening.

“Got it,” Pinky said from the dark, and the room suddenly flooded with light.

The stalker, a portly woman in her late twenties with streaked blond hair, crouched near a pool table. She wore jeans and a T-shirt with an image of Hayley ironed on the front.

Sparky ran toward the corner of the building and then reappeared with Bill behind him. Bill peered through the glass door behind the stalker with pistol drawn, slid open the door, and pushed the woman to the ground.

“I just wanted to talk to her,” the woman said, her cheek to the floor.

Colleen lowered the extinguisher and exhaled. Bill handcuffed the woman and helped her to her feet. She locked eyes with Colleen.

“She’d never talk to me. I sent her e-mails, but she stopped responding. All I wanted to do was tell her how much I admire her.”

“You okay?” Bill asked.

“We’re fine.”

He glanced at Pinky. “Thanks for your help,” he said, and meant it. For the first time, she thought Bill actually respected Pinky.

“It was nothing,” Pinky said.

“Come on,” Bill said, and escorted the woman out the door.

“Tell Hayley how much I love her,” the woman called out as she disappeared.

Colleen had never considered the dangers involved in being a celebrity. She wondered what it must be like knowing that people thought you owed them special attention. No wonder Hayley had a personal assistant and people constantly around her. Colleen had always known of the perks of celebrity, but there were clearly some definite costs. It made her grateful for her own relative anonymity. She’d hate to feel that exposed and vulnerable.

“Shall we check on Hayley?” Pinky asked.

“I’ll be up in a second,” she said. “Thanks … for everything.”

“It’s always an adventure with you,” he said, and retreated up the stairs.

She exited onto the pool deck and rubbed Sparky’s head. “You deserve a special treat when we get home.” He wagged his tail and nuzzled her hand.

The dog followed her around the side of the house. Bill would have a long night taking statements from everyone and then questioning Hayley’s stalker. She glanced at the unhappy fan in the backseat of Rodney’s car and remembered she still had the notebook with the photos. She retrieved it from the front seat of her SUV and waited for Bill to finish talking with his deputy. When he was done, she held it in the air and he joined her as Rodney pulled away.

“I take it that’s the notebook you found at the house,” he said, taking it from her.

“It’s interesting reading,” she said.

He briefly flipped through the pages and then closed it. “I guess Fawn was right when she said you’d protect Hayley from danger,” he said.

“I wouldn’t put too much stock in that. She could have also predicted Pinky’s help, or Sparky’s, for that matter.”

“Still, I’m glad you were here.”

She surprised herself by saying, “Me, too. Nobody deserves to feel unsafe in their own home, or at least their home away from home.”

Bill smiled kindly. She thought about what Hayley had told her earlier. Was it possible that she had been the only person in Corolla not sure about how he felt about her? Had she been that dense? Could it be that he was equally dense about how she felt about him? She chuckled at her own foolishness.

“What is it?” he asked with a puzzled grin.

If it hadn’t been such a long day and Bill didn’t need to interview everyone upstairs, she would have told him, but right now she needed to get home and he needed to finish up with the arrest of Hayley’s stalker.

“Later. You’ve got people to interview.”

“Chief McCabe!” called Hayley, flying down the front steps. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“But I didn’t have a chance to thank you. You don’t know how relieved I am that that woman is in custody. If you hadn’t been here…”

“Bill was the one who apprehended her, not me,” she said, and let Sparky into the SUV. “And now I’m going to let him do his job.”

She slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door closed.

“Good night,” she said, and stole a quick look at Bill before backing onto Lighthouse Drive and heading home.

Chapter 17

As Colleen made her way home,
her mind churned with the events of the day. There had been an arrest … but it wasn’t for Rich’s murder. What had she learned thus far? For starters, Marvin was out as a suspect. It didn’t seem possible he could have committed murder, given his arthritic hands. Lane had indeed had a fling with Doris. Marvin had been correct about that. But if both men were to be believed, neither would hurt her. So where had her bruises come from? Their ears didn’t match any of Rich’s photos, so it seemed less and less likely they had anything to do with his death. But if they weren’t involved, then who was, and why? Her mind drifted to what she had heard Kyle say about Rich. The intern’s callous blaming of a dead man bothered her. Was he merely fed up with the thespians, or was there something more sinister behind the comment? She sighed. Her brain hurt. It was too hard to sort through the details of the day while exhausted.

She pulled up to the front of her house and cut the engine and lights. Every muscle in her body ached. Maybe I could sleep in my vehicle tonight, she thought. She closed her eyes and allowed the insects’ song to lull her to sleep. Sparky licked her hand and she stirred. He was right: They should go inside and get to bed. She forced herself out of the vehicle and up the front steps.

“Sparky?” she said, surprised he wasn’t right behind her. Now he gets a burst of energy, she thought. “Come on, boy,” she called.

The bushes rustled. She hoped he wasn’t looking for the rabbit. It would be difficult to get him in. She unlocked the front door and flipped on a light. Maybe the sound of opening his container of dog treats would get him to come in. She yanked first her left and then her right foot out of her shoes and trudged into the kitchen. Smokey meowed in the dark. “Just a minute,” she said, “We’ve got to get your friend inside first.” She retrieved the dog treats, returned to the porch, shook the container, and pulled on the lid. Sparky bounded from the bushes, tail wagging. Works every time, she thought, and led him inside and locked the door.

She clicked on the kitchen light. Smokey squinted and meowed. She poured the treats into Sparky’s bowl. “You’re next,” she said to the cat, who was rubbing against her leg. She found Smokey’s treats, dropped a half dozen or so in her dish, and joined her furry friends on the floor. She stroked the cat’s back. The dog and cat finished what she had given them and looked at her expectantly. “You two are obsessed,” she said, and gave them both a second helping, too tired to tell them no.

Hayley’s stalker came to mind. Talk about obsessed, she thought. Maybe it was a false sense of closeness that led people to fixate on celebrities. People see their images on the television in their living rooms, in magazines, and on billboards, so they think they know the stars, Colleen thought. She wondered if celebrities ever had a hard time living up to the personas that fans, publicists, and managers created for them. Could it change how they saw themselves, how they behaved? Even the promise of fame had made Lane change his name.

She thought about Lane’s name change and Rich’s ear-identification photos. What if Lane wasn’t the only person with something to hide? And what if that something was more than a name change? What if it was illegal or criminal in nature? Could that be what Rich had been researching? Ruby had mentioned his love of true-crime stories. Had he stumbled upon someone’s criminal past? If he had discovered someone in Corolla had a secret criminal past the person didn’t want revealed, then that might be a motive for murder. And where was his missing laptop? So many questions and still no answers. It was clearly time to get some sleep. She’d think better in the morning.

She hit the lights and made her way upstairs. Smokey and Sparky raced each other up, each wanting to sleep on the prime corner of the bed—the one at the foot and closest to the window. She thought of locking them out so she could sleep uninterrupted, but something about the incident with the stalker made her not want to be alone.

She slipped out of her clothes and kicked them under the bed, too tired to bother putting them in the hamper. She threw on a T-shirt, tied her hair up in a ponytail, brushed her teeth, and crawled into bed, with Sparky at her feet in the prized corner and Smokey on the other side near the pillows. The cat rolled on her back. She caressed the cat’s soft belly and Smokey squeezed her paws in appreciation. Colleen’s eyes grew heavy and she was soon fast asleep.

Sunlight filtered into the room through the curtains. She glanced at the clock and turned away from the window, trying to get a few minutes more of shut-eye. A fly buzzed above her head and she sleepily swatted it away. “Smokey, get the fly,” she mumbled. She opened an eye to see if the cat had seen the insect. What she saw jolted her awake like a potent shot of caffeine. Sparky and Smokey were gone and her bedroom door was closed. That could mean only one thing: Someone had been in her house.