Sunflowers and Sabotage Page 14

  He nodded. I worried he was going to go tight lipped again but he continued. "Melody and Ellen were good friends. Melody was always mixing up new shampoos and grooming products for her business. She came up with the lavender shampoo and people loved it. I guess it makes dog fur really soft. I don't have any dogs."

  "Then why did Ellen Joyner market it as her shampoo?"

  "She basically stole the formula. At least that's what Melody claimed. Ellen was the one with the clout in the dog world. She started marketing it on her site, and people were buying it like crazy. We constantly have to restock the stuff on our shelf."

  "That's not a great thing for a friend to do." I laughed lightly. "You sure know a lot about the whole Lavender Pooch scandal. I guess working here, you learn a lot about the dog world."

  He nodded. "More than I care to know. I also used to date Melody. We were engaged for awhile, but it didn't work out." He turned back to the shelf. "Are you interested in the Lavender Pooch?" He pulled a bottle off the shelf.

  "Actually, I think I'll give my nose a break from this aisle and look at your cat toys. Thanks so much for your help." And a grand slice of help it was, I thought wryly as I headed toward the cat toys.

  Chapter 30

  I was feeling slightly giddy that I'd uncovered yet another possible motive for Ellen's murder. However, I was keeping my investigative feet firmly on the ground. A possible motive with no evidence to back it up was just that—a possible motive. Naturally, my conversation with Barrett caused me to take a second trip to the Foxy Salon. I had no real reason to go into the salon, and it would be strange to use the same excuse that I was just checking on Melody to see how she was doing after the terrible day at the park.

  My plan was still just a bunch of floating strands with no solid threads when I rolled slowly down the block where the Foxy Dog Salon was located. Melody's mobile grooming trailer, the one she had used at the show, was sitting in the side of the parking lot just outside the salon.

  Before I passed the location, the trailer door swung open and Melody plodded down the steps with a bag of trash. She dropped it in the trash can sitting at the corner of the parking lot before heading into the salon.

  A clear plan formed in my head. I dreaded the thought of going through trash, but it seemed Melody had just gotten around to cleaning out the trailer from the dog show. With any luck, the trash would contain clues.

  I parked around the corner and out of view of the salon. I strolled nonchalantly along the sidewalk and took a detour to the trash can. The bin was at a sharp enough angle that it would be hard to see me digging through it from the shop window. The fabric store across the street was an entirely different story. I hoped none of the people inside noticed a perfectly respectable looking woman digging through trash.

  I pulled off the lid and held my breath to allow the first and strongest odors to dissipate before I exposed my super nose to the smells. Fortunately, I wouldn't have to dig through much loose garbage. Melody was a neat and organized garbage thrower. Everything was in a trash bag, including the last one she tossed, which was conveniently on top.

  I glanced around. I hadn't caught any unwanted attention, but as I pulled open the plastic drawstring, the salon door opened. Melody walked out with a sandwich, a bottle of water and the cute curly haired dog at her side. I pressed the lid back down. As she situated herself and her lunch on the bench in front of the shop, I stooped down behind the can. I was far enough away that she didn't hear my knee hit the can as I crouched into my hiding spot. My worry was—just how long could I hold the crouched position before my legs cramped up and the blood left my head?

  I peeked up over the top of the can. Melody and her pup made pretty fast work of the sandwich. My feet were tingling with numbness and my knees were about finished when she crumpled up the sandwich wrapper. Adrenaline shot through me as I suddenly realized there was a good chance she would walk over and throw the wrapper in the can. I held out some hope that she would carry it inside to throw away because of her neat and organized garbage. Plus, the shop trash can was probably closer. She checked her phone, then pushed it back into her work apron pocket. She lowered her hand and allowed her dog to lick off any grease from the sandwich. The little dog was happy to oblige. I just hoped he would hurry with his clean up duty.

  "Hold on there," I whispered to myself. The entire scene reminded me of the day of the murder. Melody was searching for Ellen. She had been walking Pebbles around the park as part of her dog walking business. The entire time Melody was at our table, Pebbles was busily licking her hand as if there was something tasty on her fingers. Just maybe there was.

  After a good twelve minutes in a crouched position behind the stinky trash can, Melody walked back inside. Thankfully, she took her trash with her. I gave it an extra few minutes to make sure she wasn't coming back out before pushing to my feet. I pressed a bracing hand on the trash can as the blood returned to my head.

  I resumed my trash search but decided to work quickly. I was pushing my luck at this point. I shuffled through discarded food packaging, paper towels, clumps of dog fur and a few empty bottles of shampoo and conditioner. I already knew that Melody used a citrus smelling shampoo in her salon, and now, thanks to Barrett, I knew the real reason why she avoided Ellen's Lavender Pooch. I was sure it had nothing to do with a rash.

  I was about to give up on my quest when my brilliant nose caught the trace scent of peanut butter. I searched further and found a small plastic container, one that could be used to store leftovers in the refrigerator. I pried off the lid just to make sure. My persistence and my super sense of smell were rewarded. The container was mostly empty, but the bottom and sides were smeared with peanut butter. I decided to put the container back in the trash. There was nothing outrageous or strange about having a container of peanut butter in the trash can. It was a popular food item, although I couldn't remember the last time I made a point of moving a dollop of peanut butter to another container for storage. As it was, it was nearly impossible to clean out a peanut butter jar for the recycling bin. That might have been why Melody tossed the otherwise reusable storage container. It would take too much effort to clean.

  I gently closed the lid on the can and headed back to my car and to my hand wipes. It seemed I had possibly found the person who sabotaged Avery's win at the dog show.

  It wasn't easy but I worked hard not to touch anything but my keys and a sliver of the door handle. I slid in behind the steering wheel and reached for the package of hand wipes in my glove box. I diligently cleaned my hands as I thought about everything I'd uncovered.

  None of it was fitting in a logical, straight line. If Melody wasn't happy with Ellen because she made money off her lavender shampoo, why would she sabotage the show so that Pebbles would win? Or did she not care about who won as long as Avery, the woman who was dating her ex-fiancé, lost? Was her main goal to make sure Avery's dog didn't win the trophy? Or was there a more complicated motive to her plan. I still didn't have anything to connect the sabotage to Ellen's death. If Melody was the saboteur, and there was still no proof of that other than an unmarked container of peanut butter, then was she also the killer? What was her motive for killing Ellen? They were obviously on speaking terms. I had witnessed Ellen going into the Foxy Dog trailer for a grooming touch up. Ellen had even trusted her precious champion poodle with Melody. There were still too many holes. I needed to find a way to fill them in.

  Chapter 31

  Since I was in Chesterton and I seemed to be hot on the trail of something (I just wasn't sure what) I decided to head back to Vivian's dog boutique. She seemed to have her finger on the pulse of everything that was happening in the dog world. Just as I pulled up to the boutique, my phone rang. It was my favorite detective.

  "Hello, how are you feeling?" I asked.

  "I'm bored out of my mind, and I'm standing in a flower shop that is noticeably absent of one very cute florist. Her ridiculous bird is here, however, and when I walked into the shop,
King noticed, apparently for the first time, that I had something white and slightly fuzzy on my arm. He swooped off his perch and landed, talons ready, on my shoulder to get a closer look at the furry creature on my arm."

  "You missed a good one, boss." Ryder was laughing in the background.

  "Yes, your assistant keeps asking the bird to do it again so he can get it on camera, but I refuse to recreate my entrance. Where are you at?"

  "I'm in Chesterton," I said, deciding to forgo details.

  "Of course you are, and I'm sure your visit to my hometown has nothing to do with a murder case."

  "Nope, just cruising the streets, trying to imagine what the town would have been like with a teenage James Briggs running around it."

  "Lacey, what are you up to?" he asked.

  "A better question would be—what is Officer Burke up to? Has he found any good leads yet?"

  "Not sure how that's a better question, but, to tell you the truth, I haven't talked to him today. I assume he's making progress. I know he was zeroing in on Avery Hinkle as the prime suspect, but he has little to go on other than the rage she showed Ellen in front of the entire dog show audience."

  I rolled down the window to let some air in the hot car. "I'm beginning to think that Ellen did not sabotage the dog show."

  "Is that so?" The familiar squeak that came through the phone was one of the stools in the shop. He had sat down at the work island. "Go away, you daft bird. It's only a bandage."

  I laughed. "Maybe we should glue some googly eyes on that thing. It'll really freak him out."

  "That might be fun for you, but it won't be too fun for the guy in the bandage. And you're avoiding the subject. Who do you think sabotaged the dog show?"

  "I've found a few clues and motives here and there, but I don't want to take time out of my break to tell you. I've got one more stop to make, then I'm heading back to the shop. Will you still be there?"

  "Probably not. I told Hilda I'd bring her some lunch. She hasn't had a chance to step away from her desk all day. Don't do anything dangerous. I'll expect a full debriefing tonight."

  "Yes, sir, and keep that fuzzy arm of yours away from birds of prey," I chuckled as I hung up.

  I got out of my car and walked into the shop. Vivian was helping a customer fit her tiny dog with a harness. She glanced up to see who had walked inside. I immediately sensed a chill in her demeanor as if she wasn't too thrilled to see me. I braced for an icy reception.

  I browsed the dog treats, thinking it might help if I bought something from the store. I found a treat that had a variety of meats and vegetables in its all organic formula. I decided to buy two bags, one for Bear and one for Kingston.

  Vivian rang up the dog harness. The customer walked happily out with her tiny pooch. "I didn't expect to see you here again," Vivian said with a dry tone. "I've already talked to the police. They came here the day before yesterday to find out about the dog collar." That explained some of her unfriendliness. She might even have decided that I told the police that the collar came from her boutique.

  I put on a cheery smile and placed my two bags of treats on the counter. "I guess it's good that you'd already figured out it was stolen. I'm sure it would have been nerve wracking to look for it with police officers milling about the store."

  "It was nerve wracking anyhow," she said curtly and started to ring up the treats. "I don't understand how I got pulled into this awful mess. I'm just a business woman trying to make a living. My customers just happened to be part of the dog show world."

  I pulled out my wallet. "I'm sure it's the last thing you wanted. Have you seen any of them?" I asked as I handed her my debit card. "I mean, have you talked to Avery or anyone?"

  She was put off by my question. She dragged my card quickly through the card reader. "I've talked to Avery. She is not at all happy to be dragged into this either. It's a big mess and all because Ellen decided to sabotage the dog show."

  It seemed strange that she took the conversation back to the sabotage. I wondered if Avery was still obsessing about her loss. "I guess Avery is still convinced that Ellen ruined Belvedere's chances."

  "I'm sure of it. Who else would have done it?" She handed me back the card. "But that doesn't mean Avery killed Ellen. She's already talked to the police. She told them she had nothing to do with it."

  I nodded. "Quick question, since you know most of the dog people around here. Were Ellen Joyner and Melody Langley good friends? I remember Melody was walking Pebbles for Ellen at the show. Did they hang out much?"

  She wore a suspicious expression as she handed me the bag with the dog treats. "Are you working with the police or something? As you said, I know a lot of the dog people in Chesterton. They're my customers. I don't want to do or say anything to lose their trust."

  "I understand completely." I looked down with a disappointed frown. "I was just curious about their relationship," I said resignedly.

  "Well, it wasn't good," she said with some exasperation as if I'd pestered her to no end. "Melody came up with the idea for Lavender Pooch, but Ellen marketed it as her own and made a small fortune. That would hardly lead to a good friendship."

  "Yes, I suppose that would make them enemies." I watched her reaction to see if there was any spark, something that might show she was suddenly considering that Melody might have killed Ellen. She didn't even seem to consider it.

  "Well, I've got to get back to work," she said sharply.

  I lifted the bag of treats. "Yes, and I've got some treats to give out. Thank you." I walked out and headed to my car. As I climbed inside, a car pulled up to the boutique. I started my car and pulled away. I reached up to adjust my mirror and noticed that Melody was the person getting out of the car at the boutique. After my rather cold dismissal, it would probably cause a scene if I walked back into the shop. Since I didn't have my usual official partner, it wasn't as if I could just ask Melody questions about the day of the murder.

  "Poo," I sighed. If I had gotten to the store ten minutes later, I would have casually run into Melody. Not that I would have known what to say or ask her to help dig out details.

  I drove down the small street of shops and a new thought occurred to me. Occasionally, coworkers were a good, unwitting source of information. If Melody was at the boutique, it was likely that I'd find her assistant, Carrie, alone in the store. One more stop before I headed back to my own shop.

  Chapter 32

  I had to remind myself that I was just flailing about with this case. It was so much harder solving a murder without Briggs and without having any real right to investigate it. My unexpectedly cold reception from the otherwise friendly Vivian was a good slap in the face. People weren't interested in someone nosing around in their social circle, particularly after one prominent member had been killed and several other prominent members were likely suspects. I was treading on tender ground. No one wanted to be thought of as a tattle tale, especially when murder was involved.

  I was certain Melody's assistant wouldn't remember me after my brief visit to the salon. She mostly saw me from the back (not my best side) and once she walked into the work area, she set right to work pulling on an apron to bathe a dog. I was going to head into the salon with a question about dog shampoos, a topic that seemed to have significance in the case. Chances were it would lead to absolutely nothing, but it was my only opportunity to talk to someone who knew Melody and who was far from the fray of Saturday's murder.

  I parked around the corner again, in case I had to make a sneaky get away. I had no idea how long Melody would be out of the salon. As I walked around the corner and past the mobile salon trailer, a woman was just leaving, a good sign that I would catch the assistant without a customer.

  The sharp repetitive sound of a small dog barking pierced the air as I walked inside. The humid, hot and fragrance laden atmosphere sprang me into a short sneeze fit.

  "Do you need a tissue?" Carrie had to raise her voice to be heard over the dog's incessant yapping. She wa
s holding out a tissue, which I accepted with a smile and nod.

  "It's the grooming products," Carrie said loudly. "They make a lot of people sneeze."

  "Yes, I have a sensitive nose," I said at a tone that was just short of yelling. It was like trying to hold a conversation at a rock concert. I motioned toward the tiny Pomeranian who was dancing around the cage barking toward every corner. "That's a lot of volume for such a small dog," I said loudly.

  "The little ones are always the loudest, and they never stop for a breath." Carrie held up a finger, signaling just a minute. She reached under the counter and lifted out a large cookie jar. She opened the lid. The earthy smell of peanut butter cut through the perfume in the air. She pulled out a pillowy shaped dog treat and tossed it into the cage. The tiny ball of fluff immediately quieted down as it gobbled up the treat.

  "Guess that'll help for a few seconds," I noted.

  "More than a few. It's one of Melody's inventions. They are pill pockets that people use to give their dogs medicine. We fill them with peanut butter. It takes them awhile to lick the stuff off their teeth and gums."

  I blinked at her a few seconds, stunned by what I'd just heard. On my first visit to the salon, Melody had used a toy to lure a big dog into the bath. She had boasted about working with dogs long enough that she knew a lot of tricks.

  "Very interesting," I finally choked out. "I guess whatever works, eh?"

  "Yes, now we probably only have about three minutes until Chloe is finished with her treat. What can I do for you? I have a price list if that's why you stopped in."

  "Yes, that would be great." The peanut butter filled pocket had thrown me off my game. My mind was dashing about, trying to decide whether Melody's trick was evidence that she sabotaged the show or whether it gave her good reason to have a mostly empty container of peanut butter in her trash.