Sunflowers and Sabotage Page 12

  Sharon glanced outside the office window, but we were very much alone. It seemed I wasn't going to meet up with the Cramptons this afternoon. Sharon leaned a little closer. "As I said, they weren't friends with Ellen. They certainly would never shop on Ellen's site, no matter how popular that Lavender Pooch shampoo is. There was an incident a few years back, before I came to work for the Cramptons. Ellen sued them and the whole thing ruined Belinda and Horace's reputation. It took them a long time to build up trust in the dog show community again."

  "Gosh, that's terrible." I pretended great shock for a second, then jumped ahead to my next comment. "They must have really hated Ellen. I guess there's no way to forgive someone when they've ruined your life." I was prodding, hoping to get some kind of a comment or reaction.

  "I suppose," she said curtly, a big change from a few seconds earlier when she was free with her information. She shuffled the brochures around so I could see them.

  "Be sure to mention our new Saturday afternoon group class," a voice said from behind. I now understood why Sharon had cut off her last comment so abruptly.

  Belinda Crampton, the trim, energetic woman who reminded me a touch of Elsie, moved efficiently around the office, stopping to straighten the brochures on the wall before dropping a treat down for Sheba.

  "Yes, I was just getting to that," Sharon said.

  "It's my fault," I interjected. "We were just talking about Saturday's dog show. I happened to be there with a friend and well, I know I don't have to tell you that it was not what I expected at a dog show."

  Belinda's mouth pursed. She shook her head slowly. "None of us expected it. Any of it, for that matter. People sometimes take the competition far too seriously. It's a shame when someone resorts to cheating."

  "And murder," I added.

  I'd ruffled a feather. Belinda was tongue-tied for a second. "Yes, of course, that goes without saying," she said abruptly. "That's what I meant, naturally." I wasn't completely convinced that she considered the murder the most scandalous, shocking part of the day.

  "I suppose no one will ever know who gave Belvedere the peanut butter," I suggested lightly.

  Belinda cleared her throat and busied herself with some paperwork behind the counter. She had a comment, but it was apparently lodged in the throat she'd just cleared.

  I decided to keep the topic going. "Although, it seems Belvedere's owner was certain that Ellen had given him the peanut butter. She sure was angry at her."

  "Yes, well one could hardly blame Avery. If Ellen hadn't given Belvedere peanut butter—" Belinda started and then stopped herself. "You know, I need to bring out a few more of those sign-up sheets, Sharon. I'll go print some new ones. It was nice talking to you." She forced a gracious smile and hurried out, seemingly worried she would blurt out more opinions about the dog show.

  Sharon picked up a brochure. "I think you'll want to start this class first. It's for beginners. It will teach your dog all the basics. It's all explained inside the pamphlet."

  "I'm sure you're right. Is it all right if I take this home to show my boyfriend? He'll want a say in Bear's education," I said.

  "Absolutely. Our number is on the back of the pamphlet. Just give us a call and we can get you signed up."

  "Perfect. Thank you so much for all your help." I patted Sheba on the back and returned to my car.

  Chapter 26

  Ryder had kindly offered to drive Lola's parents to the airport so he left work early. I was relieved to see that he and Lola were back on speaking terms. She wasn't letting on but I knew my best friend and she was pleased that her parents were genuinely impressed with Ryder. As they should be.

  I finished cleaning the work counters and walked outside to pull in my chalkboard and the cart of potted plants Ryder had rolled out to lure people into the shop. Voices drew my attention down the sidewalk. It seemed I had walked outside just in time to see Avery Hinkle and her boyfriend, Barrett, walking into Kate Yardley's Mod Frock clothing shop. Kate had a fun shop, filled with vintage items that were, for the most part, lovely relics left behind from the sixties and seventies. She also carried new pieces with the mod flare. I'd purchased a pair of go-go boots from her when I'd first arrived, both because I'd always wanted a shiny pair of Nancy Sinatra go-go boots but also because I thought it would help form a new friendship with the shop's owner. Unfortunately, even though Kate and I were somewhat friendly with the occasional polite 'how are you' we never formed any kind of bond. She was a stylish, no nonsense business woman who was slightly obsessed with men, most pointedly my neighbor Dash. They had dated at one time, but it didn't work out, at least not for Dash. Kate hadn't come to that conclusion yet. Even though they were both seeing other people, she still seemed certain that they would eventually end up together. For now, Kate was unwittingly providing me with an opportunity to snoop and eavesdrop on Avery and her boyfriend. Her shop was small enough that I could browse at any table and overhear what other customers were saying. So, eavesdrop was a strong term. I was merely overhearing their conversation because I would be in the vicinity. Of course, I was putting myself purposefully in that vicinity but that was just silly old semantics.

  After a few seconds of wrestling with my conscience about listening in on someone's conversation, I reminded myself it was all in the line of duty. I was, after all, investigating a murder, even if it was not official. I had one big problem to grapple with. On the day of the murder, Briggs had introduced me as his assistant when he interviewed a slightly hostile Avery Hinkle. She had even rudely noted that she thought I was a baker's assistant. Her day had been eventful and, for the most part, terrible, but I had to assume she would recognize me. I raced inside and went to my office for the baseball cap I occasionally pulled on when my curls were out of control. I pulled my sunglasses out of my purse and put them on. They were a strange thing to wear inside but then mine did have a prescriptive lens. It was perfectly logical for me to wear them when perusing through jewelry.

  Kate would probably be surprised to see me since I rarely stepped foot in her store, but I could easily pretend that I was interested in something. She had a lot of beautiful stuff.

  I dragged the chalkboard inside but left the cart for later. Duty called and I didn't want to miss the slim window of opportunity to learn more about my main suspect, Avery Hinkle. It was certainly much harder doing this on my own without my usual partner. Briggs had access to all the suspects and witnesses. Without him, I needed to pretend to be interested in dog training classes and engage in other ploys to talk to important individuals. I had no such ploy in this case because I hadn't expected to see Avery. Hanging out while she was shopping was a simple way to find out more about her. I wasn't holding out much hope that my newest adventure would result in anything significant, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

  Avery and Barrett were already in the shop when I stepped inside. As expected, Kate looked up from her counter, where she was organizing necklaces on a rack, with wide eyes. "Pink, I haven't seen you in the shop in a long time." I was more than relieved that she called me by my nickname rather than Lacey. My real name might have tipped off Avery since Briggs introduced us. Avery glanced up from the clothes rack briefly and paused just long enough for me to start thinking of my response if she asked me about being Detective Briggs' assistant. But she went back to her clothes shopping. Barrett was leaning against a counter thumbing through things on his phone while Avery shopped. His disinterest was not going to bode well for my plan because it meant there would be little interaction between the two.

  "Hi, Kate, I've been thinking about splurging on a new pair of earrings. I'm just browsing for now," I called back, hoping that would put an end to our conversation. I was wrong.

  Kate strode over on a cute pair of pink short boots. Kate was the indisputable fashion icon of the town. I admired how she boldly changed her look every few months. At the moment, her straight hair was dyed a shiny black, and she was wearing long bangs. It was a little seve
re but it worked.

  She stuck her hand out in front of me. "Did you hear? I've just gotten engaged to Brent."

  "Wow, it's a beautiful ring." I would have been more surprised, only it was Kate's third engagement since my arrival in Port Danby two summers before. "Congratulations. Brent is the computer software salesman, right?" I asked tentatively. I was going just on gossip and a few casual interactions with Kate.

  "No, that was Kenneth," she corrected with a sour expression. Apparently, I was supposed to keep up with the list. "Brent is a pharmacist in Mayfield."

  "That's wonderful. It's always nice to have a pharmacist in the family. Again, congratulations. I'm sure you'll both be very happy." Avery and Barrett had started up a conversation, but I was unable to focus on what they were saying. I hoped my final wish for happiness would put a nice end to my chat with Kate.

  "Thanks. Everything is still in the freshly engaged stage, but eventually, when I start planning the wedding, I'll drop by your shop to look through your bridal catalogs." Normally, the notion of creating flowers for an upcoming wedding thrilled me, but I was more interested in the conversation behind me, one where it seemed Avery was irritated with Barrett. In addition, since I'd known Kate to get engaged as frequently as I changed socks, I wasn't exactly counting on the business. Still, I hoped this one worked for Kate. She seemed to desperately want to be married, and it would be a relief for Dash.

  "Absolutely," I said with fake enthusiasm. "Drop by any time and we'll plan the most floral-rific wedding this town has ever seen."

  Kate smiled with satisfaction and pulled herself away from our conversation. Unfortunately, she carried herself over to her other customer, Avery. They immediately set about looking for the perfect dress for Avery's curvy figure. Barrett looked relieved to have Avery's attention taken away. He must have just gotten off work because he was wearing his orange shirt with the feed and grain logo. I was sure I saw a piece of hay stuck on the hem of his shirt.

  My whole plan to eavesdrop on something interesting, something about the murder had been thin and full of holes. It seemed the only topic that would be discussed during Avery's trip to Mod Frock was which fabric suited her skin tone. She also made it clear to Kate that she didn't want anything that was dry clean only.

  I absently fingered some of the earrings on the rack, wondering if I should just abort the mission. Barrett's phone rang, which earned a frown from Avery. He looked somewhat apologetic as he moved to answer it. She scowled after him as his long legs carried him out the door to the sidewalk. Kate was absorbed with the dress purchase. It was my best chance to slip out.

  I headed out but slowed my pace considerably when I caught a rather impassioned plea from Barrett to whoever was on the other end of his phone call. "Please, you've got to stop calling me. Avery is getting mad. We're not going to meet. It's over." He hung up and pushed his phone into his pocket.

  I couldn't delay my feet any longer without drawing attention to myself, and there wasn't any reason for me to dawdle now that the phone conversation was over. I'd left the shop thinking that it had been a total waste of time, but after hearing Melody leave a somewhat emotional message for someone named Barrett, I was convinced the name hadn't just been a coincidence. Maybe it was time for me to take a trip to Hart's Feed and Grain.

  Chapter 27

  A summer thunderstorm had rolled in to the coast. It made a perfect setting for a quiet home dinner with Briggs. His kitchen was far too sparsely appointed to cook a real meal, so I bought some tacos and rice from a local restaurant. We sat at his tiny kitchen table, nibbling chips and salsa and listening to the rain and intermittent thunder.

  He was looking even more clear-headed than in the morning. I could tell the shock of the whole thing had finally worn off. Now he just needed to heal, and that couldn't come soon enough. His usual five o'clock shadow of black stubble was quickly growing into a fully fledged moustache and beard. He said it was either a beard or more scars on his face, a probable result of shaving with his left hand. I wasn't sure how I felt about the excess facial hair. It definitely tickled when we kissed.

  "I was thinking, after they take the bandage off and the stitches out, maybe I should incorporate the long ugly scar into a tattoo," he said. "Maybe a snake or something cool like that."

  I was fairly certain he was kidding, but just in case, I decided to voice my opinion on his idea. "I'm going to give you a hard no on the snake idea. I get the whole manly, tough looking tattoo thing, but I've seen some really unsettling ink snakes and skulls staring at me from men's arms and shoulders. It's fine if I don't know the man, but cuddling with a snake staring up at me, that just doesn't sound fun. Besides, what have I told you about the battle weary, scarred hero? It'll be like you just stepped right out of one of my romance novels." I glanced around his small, masculine-ly furnished home. "There is one problem though."

  "What's that?"

  "That battle weary, scarred hero is normally holed up in his family's castle or estate. Is there anything you can do about that?"

  He laughed as he dug another chip into the salsa. "Sure, I'll call my dad and see if there are any castles in the family portfolio."

  "Great. Preferably one that sits along a rushing river and is surrounded by lush gardens. And no ghosts, please." I looked at him. "Maybe you should be writing this down."

  He lifted his right arm. "Can't. I'll remember the list. It's not very often that I ask Dad for a castle."

  Bear came bounding through the dog door, soaking wet and ready to spray everything and everyone with rainwater. Fortunately, we had planned for just such an event. Since I was the only person with two working arms, I shot into action. I dropped my taco, snatched the beach towel off the back of my chair and threw it over Bear like a shroud. He nearly knocked me over in his exuberance to be towel dried. The entire scene gave Briggs a good laugh.

  "This is why I have a cat," I huffed as I rubbed Bear's head. His large body wriggled and twitched under the towel. I had to keep moving to stay with his wild, excited dance. "Nevermore doesn't go outside in the rain, ever. He just sits in the window and smirks at the pathetic wildlife that crosses our grass in search of dry shelter."

  "I have to say, this is so fun to watch, I'm hoping Bear goes out for a second round." Briggs took a bite of his taco. "Look, taco eating, another task that can be done with my useless left arm."

  The towel was damp and so were my jeans by the time I'd rubbed the excess water from Bear's thick coat. The odor emanating from his wet fur was potent. I covered my nose and squinted at the strong smell. "Samantha does not approve of wet dog. I think I might have to skip the rest of my taco dinner. I won't be able to smell anything but wet fur after this."

  "Are you sure?" Briggs pretended concern as he reached for my plate. "I feel bad." He took a bite of my taco. "Really bad."

  "Yes, I can see that." I carried the towel into his tiny laundry room and draped it over the washer to dry out. I walked back to the table. "Actually, the wet dog smell reminds me of something. I drove out to the Crampton's training facility. They're the people who lost the lawsuit to the murder victim."

  "Yes, I know who they are. After you mentioned them, I called Officer Burke to see if he knew about the Cramptons. One of his assistants had just found it in his research. He was surprised I knew about it already. I told him it was my brilliant assistant who had uncovered it in a Google search."

  I rested my arms on the edge of the table and smiled. "Did you really tell him I was brilliant? Actually, that's all right. Don't tell me. I'll just let myself go on thinking you did. I know I thought the Cramptons might be of interest, but I've sort of changed my mind. And it's all because of dog smells."

  "Not sure if that's a great way to make a suspect list, but go on." He finished the last of the taco and sat back.

  "The Cramptons don't use Ellen's popular Lavender Pooch shampoo. That makes sense, of course. You wouldn't shop from the store of someone who set your life back so abruptly. The dog
I met at the facility smelled like peppermint. I didn't smell any peppermint on Ellen's clothes."

  He rested his bandaged arm on the chair arm. I could tell it hurt more than he let on. I knew he'd decided to skip the pain pills because he didn't like the way they made him feel.

  "Should I get you something?" I asked.

  "A new arm, please. Anyhow, why would their dog's shampoo fragrance end up on Ellen's clothes?"

  "It wouldn't necessarily." I got up and picked up our plates. "At least not in an amount that could be detected by a normal nose." I put the plates in the sink and went back to finish my theory. "But peppermint is one of those potent smells that Samantha can pick up even if there's just a trace amount of it. If the Cramptons had bathed their dogs with the peppermint shampoo, they would certainly have had some on their clothes."

  "And if they had to tie the bag around Ellen's head, their clothes would probably have brushed Ellen's clothes," he finished for me.

  "Exactly. Now there are enough variables, like they didn't use the shampoo on their dogs so there was no peppermint on their clothes. Or they were extra careful not to brush against Ellen as they pulled the bag over her head. Or Samantha missed the scent when I examined Ellen." I laughed and waved my hand. "We both know that last one is a long shot. Anyhow, I left the training facility with nothing more than some brochures for their classes. I could leave them for you to peruse," I suggested.

  "No, thanks. Bear and I have our own discipline system worked out. He does whatever he wants, and I roll my eyes and tell him he's a goofball. It works just fine. Especially since he's finally grown out of the furniture eating phase." He motioned to the side of the couch with a scalloped edge that looked as if a giant caterpillar had gnawed it like a leaf. "Might even splurge and buy a new couch someday. Although, I do have the seat cushions perfectly sculpted to my bottom."