Murder on the Hoof: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (8 page)

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She took a second to respond. She had been so wrapped up in her ruminations that she hadn’t realized they had been driving in silence. “Yeah,” she said.

A Volvo station wagon pulled in front of them on Route 12 and Bill was forced to slow down. An awkward silence followed as they crept along behind the other vehicle.

“Interviewing the actors was interesting,” he said, trying to make conversation.

“I’m sure.”

The Volvo exited into the Monteray Plaza parking lot and they picked up speed.

“Did you know Lane has been married three times? Told me he’s still in love with each and every one of them.”

She found it interesting that he was bringing up the topic of love. “You think that’s possible? A man loving more than one woman at the same time?” she asked.

“I guess some guys tell themselves it is. I got the sense there’s some history with those actors.”

“Showmances,” she said as Bill turned onto her road.

“What?”

“Romances that last the duration of a show. New show, new showmance.”

“I should have gone into theater,” he joked.

The forgiving attitude toward Bill that she had had moments before disappeared in a flash. He slowed in front of her house and she jerked on the door handle before the vehicle had come to a complete stop.

“Hey,” he said as she leapt from the SUV and let Sparky out from the back.

She forced herself to make eye contact.

“Maybe we could get together after you’re off today. Catch up,” he said.

“I have plans,” she replied. Even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew she was saying them to punish him.

“Oh,” he said, surprised but not put off. “If it won’t be too late, we could get coffee.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be home. Maybe another time.”

She closed the door, gave Bill a curt wave, marched up the porch steps with Sparky, and disappeared inside. His car idled in the driveway. A moment later, he drove away. She exhaled deeply. Sparky cocked his head at her.

“Was that as awkward for you as it was for me?” she asked her canine companion, and rubbed his ears. He moaned softly with happiness. She could always count on the dog’s unconditional love when she was feeling out of sorts. It was time she got to work. She took off up the stairs for a quick shower and change of clothes.

She felt better after a shower and a bite to eat, and it didn’t hurt that she had planted in Bill’s mind a seed of curiosity—or maybe jealousy—about whom she would be with that night. A voice in the back of her head told her that he hadn’t deserved the comment, but she couldn’t help it—she felt better. Maybe because it gave her the illusion that she was somewhat in control. Of course, there was no such thing as control when it came to affairs of the heart. Wasn’t that, after all, what many great novels, songs, and plays were about? The fact that we can’t control whom we love or when? Still, as she drove through the Whalehead community to the firehouse, she allowed herself the deception that she had regained some command of her heart. There would be plenty of time to face reality later.

“Hey,” Jimmy said as she entered the station with Sparky. “Nice of you two to join us.”

“Funny,” she said, knowing he was teasing. “Everyone here okay?”

“Homicide calls are never easy. Chip’s taking it pretty hard.”

“Fawn was understandably upset at finding the body. Has Chip returned from dropping her off?” she asked, searching the hallway.

“He’s out back, exercising.”

Colleen left Jimmy and Sparky in the dayroom. She needed to talk to Chip and make sure he was fit to be on duty. It wouldn’t do to have him agitated if a call came into the station. She found him in the back of the building, where they ran practice drills. He had stripped off his T-shirt and was swinging from the bar, doing pull-ups. His tan skin glistened with sweat. A tattoo of a fawn seemed to leap on his left shoulder blade with every repetition. Things must be getting pretty serious between those two, she thought. Chip grunted as he hoisted himself up. He had clearly been at this for a while.

“Hey,” she said as she approached.

He finished a final pull-up, dropped to the ground, and grabbed his T-shirt. “Hey,” he said, and wiped the sweat away from his face.

“How’s Fawn?”

“Better now that she’s at home.”

“And you?”

Chip shrugged.

“You want the day off?” she asked, wondering if it wouldn’t be better for him to be with his girlfriend.

“No, I’m fine,” he said, and slipped his T-shirt back on.

“Look at me.” He did as instructed. “I need to know that you’re really okay. I can’t have you on duty if your mind is somewhere else.”

He stretched his right shoulder and punched the air in frustration. “I wish Fawn would quit that play.”

“Because of Doris and Rich dying?”

“Yeah, but even before that she’d been telling me about how much those people pick at one another. She’s a sensitive person, you know?”

“Theater people can be a bit intense at times.”

“Fawn says that when Myrtle and Lane go at it, Nellie gets in the middle, which irritates Adam because he thinks that undermines his job as director, which Sam agrees with, but then Rita defends Nellie, which leads to Rita and Sam getting into it, and then Doc Wales threatens to quit because he thinks everyone is crazy and forgetting about the horses and the reason they’re doing the play, and it goes on and on like that … every week.”

“That is a lot of drama.” Her mind reeled from all the gossip that had gushed from Chip.

“You think that’s how all actors are?” he asked, a worried expression on his face.

She didn’t want to influence Chip’s feelings about Fawn’s involvement with the production, so she chose her words carefully. “I think sometimes the wrong personalities can end up together.”

She wondered what other information Chip had about the group. Maybe he could give her some insight into Marvin’s dislike for them. “I understand Marvin didn’t like it that Doris was in the show.”

“I can see why.”

“Did Fawn ever say anything to you about them having difficulty?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“She mention anyone ever having a beef with Rich?”

“No,” Chip said. “In fact, Rich is the only one Fawn said everyone in the group liked. Whenever they had to put something to a vote, they’d let Rich be the tiebreaker. She said he’d weigh all sides, do research, whatever, and come up with the best decision.”

“He was a decent guy,” Colleen said, saddened anew at the loss of Rich and Doris.

The back door to the station opened and Jimmy emerged holding a small white box and beaming from ear to ear. She was amused by his expression and curious as to what could be the source of his glee.

“A package arrived for you,” he said, handing her the box.

“Really?” she said, genuinely surprised. “I wonder what it could be.”

Jimmy tried to hold it in, but a giggle escaped from his lips.

“What’s with you?” Chip asked.

“You’ll see,” Jimmy said, and pointed to the box.

She examined the subject of Jimmy’s obvious amusement. It was just a white box. What was the big deal? Then she noticed the small sticker holding the lid closed. It read
Island Blooms.
Oh no, she thought, and looked sheepishly up at Jimmy, who was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked.

“No, that’s okay.”

“Who’s it from?” Chip asked.

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “Who it’s from?”

Colleen’s eyes narrowed to slits. Jimmy knew exactly who had sent it and what it contained. Anyone who had ever gone to a prom or wedding knew.

“Looks like a corsage box,” Chip said, stating the obvious.

“Yes, I believe it is,” Jimmy agreed.

The longer she put it off, the worse it would get with Jimmy. Better to get it over with before others from the station wandered out to discover what the fuss was about. She tore the sticker seal and lifted the lid. A pink freesia surrounded by baby’s breath perched delicately atop pale green tissue paper. The flower’s citrus fragrance floated into the air.

“Hey, it
is
a corsage,” Chip declared, delighted that he had been correct.

“There’s a note,” Jimmy said, grabbing for a small white card tucked under the baby’s breath.

She swatted his hand away and took the card. “Looking forward to tonight, A.S.” it read. She slipped the note into her pocket. What the heck did Pinky think was going to happen tonight?

“Looks like your date is going to be fancy,” Jimmy said.

“Date? What date?” Chip asked, now more interested than before.

“There’s no date,” she said. “Why don’t you go inside? I’d like to talk to Jimmy alone.”

Chip smirked. “Sure, Chief,” he said, and hurried inside the station. It would be only a matter of minutes before the entire house knew about her nondate date.

“You could have left this on my desk,” she said after Chip was gone.

“What? And miss seeing that look on your face?”

This is what comes from missing meetings with Pinky Salvatore, she thought. You end up with a pink corsage.

“You know you’re gonna have to dress up,” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Salvatore. He’ll expect you in a dress … with heels.”

“If you think I’m wearing—”

“
I
don’t care what you wear,” he said, interrupting her. “But I don’t think Salvatore’s imagining that pretty little flower pinned to your station T-shirt.”

How had she gotten herself into this? “A corsage? Really? What is this … a prom?” She held the corsage up again for him to see.

Jimmy examined the flower. “I hate pinning those on.”

Of course. It had to be a lapel corsage. A wrist corsage would have been easy to put on and she could have hidden it by putting her hands behind her back. But no, she thought, Pinky
wants
everyone to think we’re on a date. For the first time, it occurred to her that she didn’t know where she was supposed to go for their meeting, date, whatever it was. She retrieved the note from her pocket, turned it over, and read “Elizabeth’s at 8.”

“Not there,” she grumbled.

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Jimmy said. She held up the note for him to read. “Okay, it’s that bad.”

Elizabeth’s Café and Winery, acclaimed for its pairing of food and wine, was an upscale and intimate restaurant located a few miles south of Corolla in Duck’s picturesque Scarborough Faire Shopping Village. It had received write-ups in magazines across the country as one of the most romantic dining establishments on the East Coast. Elizabeth’s was the perfect setting for an engagement proposal, a special anniversary, or a quiet celebration … not for hashing out the details of a building demolition for a Burn-to-Learn exercise. Pinky had taken his flirtation with her to a whole new level.

“So, what are you going to wear?” Jimmy asked.

“I don’t know.” She truly hadn’t given it any thought. Why would she? Pinky had seen her a million times before.

“A dress?”

She wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t remember the last time she had worn a dress. Did she even own one? And what about heels? She lived in work boots and sneakers. “I’m sure I can find something in my closet,” she said unconvincingly.

Jimmy folded his arms. “Really?”

“Why are you trying to get me all dolled up? It’s Pinky, remember? The one you always worry about?”

“True. But last time I checked, he’s the only one giving us a house to burn. And, as you’ve pointed out any number of times, he donates a lot to our kids program.”

She hated when he was right. Like it or not, she was going to have to attempt a makeover for her dinner with Pinky. “Fine. I’ll find something in my closet that can work.”

Jimmy grinned.

“What is it now?” she asked, fearful that he’d advise her on her hair and makeup next.

“Reminds me of when my little sister went to a prom. The chief is all grown up,” he teased.

“Well, if something goes wrong, big brother, I’m calling you,” she said, poking him hard in the chest on the last word.

Jimmy rubbed where she had poked him. “Try not to act like that on your date. Remember, you’re a lady,” he said, and tore off inside before she really had a chance to hurt him.

“You’d better run,” she called after him as he disappeared. She glanced at the corsage. A lady? How the heck was she going to pull that off?

Chapter 7

Colleen studied
the brightly attired woman wearing a cowboy-themed fuchsia damask dress adorned with gold buttons and braided rope trim and bedazzled matching cowboy boots in the mirror. You look ridiculous, she thought.

After rifling through the farthest recesses of her closets, the only dresses she had found were two long-forgotten bridesmaid dresses. One was a floral tangerine polyester number with fluttery sleeves, and the other was the fuchsia cowgirl number she was wearing now. She had repeatedly tried on both and recalled with irritation how her bride friends had told her the dresses could be dyed or hemmed or in some way altered and worn again. She had never given much thought as to whether or not there was any veracity to those statements … until now. Not only couldn’t the dresses be worn again; they shouldn’t be. That little lie was something women across the globe said to their friends to make them feel better for spending a small fortune on a dress that’s only purpose was to provide a beautiful setting for the gem that was the blushing bride. And Colleen had never cared. It was the bride’s day, after all. Who knows, maybe I’ll torture my friends someday, she thought. But there was no point in worrying about that now. She would need to leave for the restaurant soon if she was to make it down Route 12 to Duck by eight.

She caught Smokey and Sparky watching her with curiosity as she swiveled and checked herself from the side. “So what do you two think?” she asked her style advisers. Smokey stretched out on top of the tangerine dress, which she had thrown on the bed, and let out a quiet meow. Sparky lifted his head from the box that had held the boots and blinked twice, something he did when he was at his most content. “You two will never make it as fashion police,” she said, and rubbed Smokey’s belly. The cat purred loudly, happy to snuggle in the fabric of the tangerine dress. Sparky rolled over on the floor and she stroked his belly, too. “Be good,” she said, and left her furry companions sleeping in her room.