Paint the Town Dead (19 page)

That Rusty drove a truck similar to the one registered to Caleb Collier.

That Rusty and Caleb might be the same guy.

And if all that was true, then we'd know Kim's brother had been in Lilyvale before she was murdered.

No clear motive, murky means, but being in town gave Rusty/Caleb the opportunity to kill his sister.

I told Eric about the chance that Adam Daniel's was closed as soon as he picked us up. He immediately called, put the cell on speaker, and his face fell as we listened to the recorded message.

In spite of having dressed up for our dog park/dinner date in my best navy capris, coordinating sleeveless scoop-neck blouse, and rhinestone-studded navy sandals, I flashed a sunny smile. “It's okay, Eric. I don't care if we end up at the Dairy Queen as long as you feed me.”

He gave me a doubtful frown. “You'd be okay with the DQ?”

I shrugged. “We've been there before together. Besides, I feel the need for a banana shake coming on.”

“Not one of those frozen latte drinks you like?”

Aww, he remembered.

“Maybe I'll have one of those, too,” I said, giving a mental nod to Fred's order-expensive advice.

Eric started to put his shiny-clean extended cab pickup in gear, but stopped and gave me one of those long brown-
eyed gazes before turning his attention to the road. The kind that made my bones liquefy and butterflies take flight in my tummy.

The bonelessness and butterflies subsided, and I lapsed into my own thoughts during the short drive. I wasn't sure when to tell him about Ruth's latest visit. Or ask if he'd gotten a description of Caleb while running the search for his truck. Maybe a driver's license photo? And why was I obsessing about the case during my date, for heaven's sake?

Eric noticed my distraction. He didn't say anything, but I caught his assessing glances from the corner of my eye. I had to stop fretting and enjoy the moment.

Near the technical college, Eric turned onto a side street, and there was the dog-park-in-progress. It appeared more completed than not, and was far more elaborate than I'd expected. I chuckled when T.C. and Amber crowded in the console space for a windshield view. Before we let the critters out, he grasped my hand and squeezed.

Touched by his concern, I gave him a bright smile, then gathered a fidgeting T.C. in my arms while he took Amber's leash. The evening was unusually cool, and I vowed to have a good time.

Eric introduced Dottie and Donnie Hawthorne. The couple in their mid-thirties had spearheaded the dog park project and guided it every step of the way. Rightfully proud of their efforts, they tag-teamed telling us about the park as their golden retriever, Samson, got acquainted with Amber and T.C. Yes, the cat and her new canine acquaintance bonded at first sniff.

The acre and a half of land, partially shaded by old trees, was covered in native grasses except for thick mulch lining the fences and circling the trees. Adjacent to a small city park with a children's playground, the dog park was divided by another fence to accommodate and separate large and small breeds. Brand-new agility equipment, each piece in bright colors and made from heavy-duty recycled plastic,
dotted the area. Amber and Samson romped through hoops and over hurdles. They dashed up ramps leading into and out of a tunnel, and up and down more ramps without tunnels. T.C. watched a few minutes, then raced to the tunnel, and leaped. In short order, she draped herself over one end. Every time pups trotted through, she swiped a paw at them, and they tore off again with big doggie grins. Their antics weren't as funny as some of the cute-cat-cute-dog videos I'd seen, but I got a kick watching them play. Maybe because they were mine.

Eeks. Was I taking full ownership of the critters? The thought rattled me, so I refocused on Eric's friends.

“That's why we aren't officially open yet,” Dottie was saying as she pointed to the small dogs area. “The last of the small dog agility equipment should be here by Saturday, and we plan to be open by the Fourth of July.”

I looked around to check on the animals. Samson was prancing in a kiddie pool trying to catch sprays of water in his mouth. T.C. sat well to the side, out of the splash zone, eyeing her new friend like the dog had lost his mind. Amber was investigating the mulch around a nearby tree. I knew that circling thing she was doing, and headed for the nearest poop-scoop station.

“We wanted a doggie splash park,” I heard Donnie say while I dealt with Amber's business, “but we decided to put money into installing surveillance cameras in the trees.”

“Any special reason why?” Eric asked, his tone only a touch sharp.

Dottie waved a hand as I rejoined them. “We want to be proactive. People get up to all sorts of things they shouldn't and we want to ensure Wags and Woofs Park is safe as much as humanly possible.”

I trusted they'd place their cameras more carefully than we had at the emporium, but her comment reminded me I needed to talk to Eric about Ruth sooner or later. Later still worked.

“I hope you'll bring Amber back,” Dottie said kindly.

“I'm not sure I can. She and T.C. are all but joined at the hip, and I don't think other dogs or owners will be happy to see a cat here.”

“As long as the park is empty, let her play,” Donnie said. “You get any flak, you say I okayed it.”

“Thanks, both of you,” Eric said and casually draped an arm over my shoulders. “We may just take you up on that offer.”

“We need to get Samson home,” Dottie said, “but you're welcome to stay longer. Just secure the padlock when you leave.”

*   *   *

Amber looked sad to see Samson go, but she soon raced around a tree T.C. had climbed, barking and leaping on the trunk. When T.C. came back down, she launched her body at Amber, and the dog took off. The chase was on.

As the sun sank lower, Eric and I sat on a bench with a bone-shaped back to watch the critters play. He threw his arm over the bench back, his fingers just brushing my shoulder. Though we weren't sitting thigh-to-thigh, we were close enough for his body heat to curl around me.

“So, Nixy,” he said casually, so much so it put me on alert. “How many guys from your past am I competing with?”

“Huh?” I jerked to face him, my gaze meeting his lazy smile.

“You know. All the guys you dated. Mick the Mechanic.”

“Matt,” I corrected automatically.

“And Skip the Scout.”

“Scott.”

“Right, and there was an ER doctor, a couple of attorneys, and a private investigator as I recall.”

I leaned back, narrowed my eyes. “You don't honestly see any of them as competition, do you?”

“A man's ego is a fragile thing,” he said, straight-faced.

I rolled my eyes. “I've told you, every time I thought there
was a spark, it sputtered after two or three dates, tops. What about you? You have to be one of the most eligible men in Lilyvale. Do you have hordes of women in your black book?”

“My book is blue.” I saw the twinkle in his eye and playfully punched his shoulder. “Okay, straight answer. Even if there were hordes of names in my blue book, I'm only interested in one of them. And, Nixy.”

I held my breath, then let it out slowly. “Yes?”

He leaned closer. “I hope we don't sput—Oof!”

He jerked and I jumped because Amber and T.C. had launched themselves onto the bench and ran across our laps. Had Amber been barking all this time? I'd been too wrapped up in Eric to notice, but now the animals circled back. Amber put her paws on Eric's knees and panted. T.C. sat on me and head-bumped my chest.

“Does this mean they're ready to go?” I asked.

“Imagine so,” he replied with a sigh.

He patted Amber's head, rose, and offered his hand. Being no fool, I took it, and savored the thrill that raced through me when he laced our fingers together.

“Let's all go have dinner.”

*   *   *

When Eric said we'd all have dinner, he meant the critters, too. He insisted we dine outside at one of the patio tables in front of the Dairy Queen, and ordered large waters for each of them even though I knew Amber had slurped half a bowlful at the park. He also ordered a large burger for himself, the perfect medium one for me, and the kiddie-menu chicken strips for the critters. The server didn't bat an eye over the kiddie meal, or when she handed over two sundae-sized cups for Eric to use as water bowls.

“Dr. Sally said not to feed them people food,” I protested when we had our food in front of us and began to dig in. I didn't mention my own lapse in sticking to that rule.

“I know they ate before I picked you up, but they played hard since then. I've give them three bites, max. And see? I'm stripping off the fried batter.”

“Are you slipping them fries?” I pointed to the one he'd scooted to the edge of the table.

“I'm not planning to.”

“Uh-huh, but you might accidentally drop a few?”

“What can I say? Sometimes I'm a sloppy eater.”

“Who will be nowhere in sight if they get sick in my apartment.”

“I'm a phone call away. So what did you think of the park?”

I finished another bite and chased it with the DQ version of an iced latte. Yes, I'd decided to save the banana shake for another time.

“It's terrific. A bit far for me to walk in the morning unless I get up extra early, but I can drive over to see if the coast is clear for T.C.”

“Or try taking them about this time of night. The park won't close until sunset.”

“I'll keep it in mind.”

“What did you think of Dottie and Donnie?”

“I like them. Have you been friends long?”

“Donnie and I went to the academy together, but he dropped out. Decided being a cop wasn't for him, so he went to welding school. Sometimes I wonder if I should've done the same thing.”

I blinked. “You don't like being a detective?”

“I love what I do, but it has its drawbacks. Chief Randall is on another rampage about making an arrest.”

“I can't blame him.” I paused for another sip of cold latte, fidgeted, and finally spit it out. “Eric, I have some more info about the case and I am about to burst.”

“I can tell that. What's up?”

“Remember the elderly woman who came in earlier this week? The one who recognized Amber and T.C.?”

“Sure. They were her neighbor's pets before they showed up here. Does she want to adopt them?”

“No, Ruth can't take the pets, but she knew I had them because her grandson's friend saw them on the computer.”

He put down his all-but-eaten burger. “Why is that significant?”

Abandoning the rest of my meal, too, I thought about how I wanted to lay out the information. “First, let me ask you this. Did you put Amber's and T.C.'s photos online anywhere?”

“No. You didn't e-mail them to me. Why?”

“Because I didn't e-mail them to anyone. Not to Dr. Sally, or Miranda at the shelter, or you. I flat out forgot, and I didn't put them on social media either. The only place those pictures appeared was on my tablet screen in the store. That's the only place this Rusty guy could've seen them.”

“Ruth came to see you Tuesday morning, correct?”

“Yes, but this man had to have seen the photos on Friday or Saturday. The emporium was closed Sunday, and I forgot to run the slide show on Monday.”

“Why does it matter when he saw the photos? What are you getting at?”

“Ruth came to see me again this afternoon, and the Silver Six were there this time. I happened to say that I hoped to someday thank Rusty for telling her about the critters, and she told me he was in town. She'd just seen him driving his dark blue truck, Eric, and she called the truck tires ‘monstrous.'”

His whole body went on alert. “Caleb Collier's truck matches the same general description.”

“Which also matches the description of the truck that nearly hit me on Sunday.”

“Did Ruth describe Rusty?”

“Average looking, average height and weight, I think, though she didn't specifically say. The only detail she mentioned is that he has red hair. Kim had auburn hair.”

“Which means nothing,” he said, but I saw his mental wheels churning.

“Agreed, but here's another oddity. On Friday, three people I didn't recognize as being from around here came for Doralee's and Sherry's demonstration. I noticed them in particular because they never took off their sunglasses.”

“Granted, removing them would be the more usual thing to do.”

“Exactly. We now know two of those people were Margot Vail and Dennis Thomason. The third was a guy in a blue medical scrubs shirt, jeans, mirrored shades, and a baseball cap. I don't recall seeing his hair period. He kept the brim pulled low, and he looked at his phone instead of following along with the program. The camera caught more of the top of his head than his face.”

“Was the same man there on Saturday any time?”

“If he was, I didn't notice. He may have been dressed differently. Or he may have been in the store when I wasn't. If Ball Cap Guy is Rusty and Rusty is Caleb, he was in town before Kim was killed.”

Eric glanced at his watch, and I checked the time on my cell. Just after eight. “You still have that surveillance video, right?”