Skating Around The Law (4 page)

“That's it?”

Annette picked up a blow-dryer and a brush. “Sorry it wasn't more exciting. Are you asking because you're curious or is there something more to it?”

I could feel ears straining across the room, so I chose my words carefully. “I was just wondering. He died in Mom's rink, and I didn't really know him well.”

She turned the blow-dryer on and attacked the little girl's hair. “Sure. Well, if you need to talk some more, come by the house.” Glancing at me, she winked. “I'll open a bottle of wine, and you can tell me everything.”

I winked back. Leave it to Annette to understand the unspoken. Moments later, I was in my car and driving to our former librarian's house. I knew I was at the right house when I spotted four cats sunning themselves on the front porch.

Careful not to step on any tails, I made it to the front door and rang the bell. A minute later, I heard a timid voice ask, “Who is it?”

Using my most cheerful tone, I said, “Hi, Mrs. Piraino. I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Rebecca, Kay Robbins's daughter.”

The door opened as far as the security chain would allow, and a set of fearful eyes peered out at me. “Rebecca Robbins? Is that really you?”

Before I could nod, the door closed. I could hear the distinctive sound of the security chain being undone, and then the door flew open again. The diminutive Agnes Piraino appeared behind the screen door. With her white hair and sweet smile, she looked like everyone's idea of the perfect grandmother. “How are you, dear? Your grandfather told me you were coming into town.”

I gave a tiny prayer that Agnes's teeth hadn't been soaking in my bathroom before getting to the crux of my visit. “I'm guessing you might have heard that Mack died yesterday at the rink.”

“I did, dear. It's a shame when a person dies so young. At my age you expect to go any day, but Mack was a real shock. To think that someone in our town might have killed him…” Her eyes misted over, and she clutched her hands together.

I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and gave it a tiny squeeze. “I know. I feel bad since I don't know a lot about Mack and he died at the rink. So I thought I would talk to people who knew him. I heard he did some work for you?”

“Oh, not me. He did odd jobs for my neighbor.” Agnes swung open the screen door and stepped onto the porch. Immediately, two cats rose and began rubbing against her legs. “I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but Mack wasn't very nice. He hated my babies for no reason. He was working next door on the fence, and my babies love people, so naturally they went to say hello. Well, Mack threw a fit like you've never seen. He started hollering and throwing things. He even painted poor little Hemingway's tail. I made a report to the sheriff's office, but they just told me to keep my babies inside.”

Agnes settled into an old rocking chair, and one of her babies jumped into her lap and began to purr. She pointed to the chair next to her, and I settled in.

“Did you follow their advice?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

Agnes shook her head. “I couldn't. My babies weren't meant to be cooped up inside. But I wished I had. Then Mack wouldn't have kicked Precious.”

She pointed to a fluffy yellow cat that was coming up the steps. The minute the cat spotted me, its ears flattened and the hair on its tail stood on end. Seconds later, Precious's lips curled back to reveal a set of very sharp teeth. For a moment I wondered what Mrs. Piraino needed with the security chain. Cujo didn't have a thing on Precious.

“Was that the last time you saw Mack?”

Agnes stroked a cat's back and tilted her head to the side. “I think so. Mack avoided me after that. I'm guessing the sheriff finally told him to leave me and my babies alone.” She leaned forward and gave me a sly look. “Sheriff Jackson and I dated when we were younger.”

I thanked Agnes for her information and got up to leave. Precious hissed and pulled back into a crouch, making me take a step backward.

“Stop that, Precious.” Agnes's voice took on the authoritative tone I remembered from my library days. “Don't mind Precious. She gets a little cranky if she doesn't get her medication on schedule.”

Precious stopped hissing and gave me a flat stare. “If it makes her happy, you should probably give it to her,” I said. It would probably make the rest of the neighborhood happy as well. Who knows how many children Precious might eat without drugs?

“I will, dear.” She assured me. “Thank you for stopping by. I like having visitors.”

I said good-bye to Agnes and Precious. Hurrying to my car, I scratched Agnes off my list of suspects. The woman might be a little batty about her cats, but she was harmless. Turning the key, I headed off for the next potential murdering maniac on my list.

Dr. Lionel Franklin's veterinary clinic and farm was located about fifteen miles north of town. When I reached a green and white farmhouse with a sign reading LARGE ANIMAL VETERINARY clinic outside, I parked next to an enormous black pickup truck and hopped out of my car. A placard on the door said the doctor was in, so I rang the bell. When no one answered, I tried the handle.

Locked.

I decided since I'd driven all the way here I might as well look around. The sign did say the doctor was here somewhere. I wandered around the side of the house and followed the dirt path, poking my head into a few small sheds on the way. In one were some gardening tools; in the other, a couple of large pieces of farming equipment. No Dr. Franklin. I continued toward the large white barn at the end of the path.

The light was dim as I walked into the enormous barn and stopped. The smell of horses and hay wasn't unpleasant.

“Dr. Franklin?” I called. My voice echoed in the barn, and several horses poked their heads over stall doors on either side of the wide center aisle to look at me.

When no human answer came, I took a few steps down the center aisle. A noise from the left stall made me jump. Curious, I poked my head in. Standing in the stall was a camel—and he was wearing a hat.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight,
shook my head, and opened my eyes again. The camel was still there, and he was sporting a black fedora.

I blinked.

The camel blinked back.

Then the camel poked his head over the chest-high door to get a closer look at me. Certain this was a hallucination, I reached toward the animal with my hand. The camel sniffed at me, and I petted its nose. The camel gave a funny little snort and rolled its eyes.

I scratched the side of his face. That got me another eye roll and a throaty kind of grunt. I smiled. Not only was the camel real, but he liked me.

“I see you've met Elwood.”

I spun around and came face-to-face with over six feet of intense maleness. If this was the doctor, I could see why the women in town were in hot pursuit. He looked to be in his midthirties with tanned skin and a chiseled jaw. His thick brown hair that had probably needed a haircut three weeks ago now looked just plain sexy. In the barn's dim light I couldn't tell if his eyes were hazel or green, but either way, this man was perfection. Of course, there was one major drawback—he was covered in blood.

I took a step back and found myself wedged up against the camel's stall praying this guy wasn't the killer.

“Elwood? Oh. Sure. Elwood,” I rambled as the smell of the guy's shirt turned my stomach. “I was looking for Dr. Franklin. The office was locked.”

“Sorry about that,” he said in a deep voice that almost made me forget the blood. “I had an emergency and forgot to change the sign. I'm Dr. Franklin, but folks around here call me Lionel.”

He held out a hand to shake mine, but I couldn't do it. His hands were clean, but his long-sleeved shirt was caked with goo, and the smell was growing stronger.

He looked down at his clothes and grinned. “Excuse my clothes, but Doc Truman's horse was giving birth and required my assistance. Birthing of any kind can be a little messy.”

“I can see that.” I let out a sigh of relief that the blood wasn't human. I didn't want this guy to be the killer. He was too good-looking for that kind of disappointment.

We stared at each other for a minute, not sure what to say. I felt a wet camel nose against my cheek and flinched, making Lionel laugh. It was a deep, rich sound that made my body hum.

“I see Elwood likes you. He doesn't normally take to people so fast.”

I smiled and gave Elwood a pat, careful not to dislodge his fedora. “Elwood is a strange name for a camel.” Then again, I'd never met a camel, so what did I know?

Lionel scratched Elwood's side and nodded. “I thought so, too, but it suits him. Elwood was a circus performer before he was sent to me. Strangely enough, he used to do a Blues Brothers act with a clown. They tell me it took the clown a year to train Elwood to wear a hat, and now he won't go without one for more than a couple of minutes.”

“I'm surprised the clown gave Elwood up. I'd think a hat-wearing camel would be big a box-office draw.” I know I'd buy a ticket. Right now I was trying to decide how well a camel would fit in my Wicker Park apartment.

Lionel put his forehead against Elwood's, and the camel made another throaty noise. “The clown died, and Elwood became so depressed he wouldn't eat. That's why six months ago the circus manager brought Elwood to me. Turns out he liked it here, and he's been with me ever since.” Lionel took a step back from the camel and let his eyes roam from my feet up to my hair, finally stopping to look me right in the eyes. “Now that you know me and Elwood, would you mind telling me who you are?”

“Oh, sorry.” I straightened my shoulders and gave him my perkiest smile. “My name is Rebecca Robbins. My mom owned the Toe Stop.”

“I'm sorry about your mother,” Lionel said, his eyes darkening with compassion. “She was a real nice lady.”

“Thanks.” My own eyes started to tear up, and I clenched my fist. I wasn't going to get all weepy.

“So,” Lionel asked, scratching the camel's side, “did you come by for a reason?”

My eyes widened. I had no idea what to say. A real investigator would have thought of a cover story, but I wasn't a real investigator, so I hadn't. And while honesty was normally the best policy, asking straight out if he killed Mack seemed like a bad idea. I looked around for inspiration. The guy was a vet. Talking about animals seemed like the most logical option, so I said, “I was thinking about getting my grandfather a pet and thought you might be able to recommend one.”

Lionel's lips quivered. “Really?”

I nodded and expanded on my lie. “I hate the idea of Pop living alone and thought a pet would be good company.”

“From what I hear, he has plenty of company.”

My cheeks heated. Apparently, the whole town knew about Pop's indiscreet sex life. Well, I couldn't worry about that now. I had to focus on the problem in front of me—getting information and getting the hell out of here.

Cocking my head to one side, I said, “Maybe I came to the wrong place for advice.”

“Maybe you did.” Lionel took a step closer. “Unless you want to get your grandfather a cow. I'm a large animal veterinarian. Guess you didn't read the sign when you drove up.”

“Guess not. Since you can't help me, I should probably get out of your way.” I took two steps toward the door and turned. Doing my best casual voice, I asked, “Did you know Mack Murphy well? I heard he did some work for you.”

Lionel stared at me for a second, then grinned. “I was wondering when you were going to get around to that.”

My mouth dropped open, and Lionel started to laugh. The sound made me cringe from embarrassment and want to jump him at the same time. For a moment, I thought about coming clean about my investigation, but I decided against it. Just because Lionel was hot didn't mean he was trustworthy. “I really am worried about Pop living alone,” I explained.

Lionel leaned against Elwood's stall door and crossed his arms. “You also stopped by the sheriff's office and Annette's beauty parlor this morning and asked a lot of questions about Mack's murder investigation.”

The yenta phone tree in Indian Falls was more efficient than the CIA. I had just been caught red-handed.

“Okay. I feel guilty Mack died in my rink, and Pop mentioned to me that Mack did some work for you. Since you knew Mack, I thought I'd ask you about him.” Okay, that was only part of the truth. Sue me.

“You forget to mention the fact that Doreen can't sell a place with an unsolved murder looming over it.”

Busted again. “I liked my explanation better. Yours makes me sound self-centered.”

“Honey, you're the one who used your widowed grandfather as an excuse to question me. What would you call that?” Lionel walked toward me, his body stopping only inches from mine. He was close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him. “Since you're Kay's daughter, I'll tell you what you want to know. I hired Mack to do some roofing work. It took him a lot longer than it should have to get it finished, but he and I had a conversation about it over poker, and two days later it was done.”

Lionel's head bent down. His lips were now within an inch of my face. Suddenly, the bloody clothes and the smell faded from my mind. “I didn't kill Mack,” he said firmly, his green eyes staring into mine. “Isn't that what you're really here to ask?”

“No.” Yes. I took a step back, tripped over my own feet, and fell against the barn's door frame. Lucky for me it was there; otherwise I would have ended up on my butt. Again.

Lionel pulled me fully upright and grinned. “Well, you let me know if you think I did it. I deserve a chance to try to change your mind.”

His hands on my shoulders sent little tingles down my spine. I licked my lips and couldn't help asking, “How would you do that?”

He looked down at me. His smile told me that my attraction to him was obvious and that he was enjoying it. “I think we could figure something out. Right now I have to take a shower and get back to work.” He took a step toward the back of the barn and added, “I'll let you know if I come up with a good pet for your grandfather.”

Lionel walked away from me down the center aisle of the barn. For a moment I enjoyed watching him go. Coming or going, Dr. Franklin looked good. Then, shaking my head, I scooted out to my car.

Minutes later, I was cruising the streets toward downtown feeling a little dejected about my PI abilities. In the last two and a half hours I'd discovered that Annette had purchased new mirrors and lights, Precious suffered from a personality disorder, and Lionel owned a camel that wore hats. While the information might make for interesting party conversation, none of it got me any closer to solving Mack's murder or selling the rink. Hopefully Sheriff Jackson had finished pruning his daisies. Alzheimer's or no, he'd be making better progress than I.

I drove to the rink and arrived with twenty minutes to spare. Walking toward the front door, I stopped dead in my tracks. My eyes were riveted on my mother's newly refinished double doors. Yesterday when I left, the glass was sparkling clean. Today it had a bright red message scrawled across it.

GO HOME. MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS. OR ELSE.