Twenty-Eight

It was exactly a week later—the day before Halloween. I had decorated my shops with jack-o’-lanterns and also baked people treats shaped like pumpkins and ghosts.

As soon as the doors opened that morning, Billi arrived at the Barkery with some of her assistants and volunteers from Mountaintop Rescue. She brought rescued animals, too—mostly dogs, although a couple of adorable cats had been brought in crates.

We were holding one of those miraculous adoption events.

Within an hour of opening, wonderful chaos swirled on the tile floor. I stood with Billi near the door, watching it with probably the hugest grin that had ever appeared on my face. About eight of the volunteers held the leashes of dogs of all sizes and breed combos, from Chihuahua mixes to pit bulls to collie mixes, and the public eagerly checked them out. Cute young receptionist Mimi was there, her white shirt with a golden retriever face on it reading Adopt today. Love forever.

Biscuit and Go were in the large fenced crate at the side of the room, to keep them from getting in the way—or to prevent people from attempting to adopt them. Both seemed highly interested in what was going on, watching and trading nose sniffs with the rescue dogs who got close enough. Of the dozen dogs that Mountaintop Rescue had brought to the event, four had been adopted already.

“This is so wonderful,” I told our City Councilwoman. Billi appeared a whole lot prettier and more relaxed than she’d been last week and the days before.

And why not? She’d been cleared as a murder suspect.

“You’re so wonderful,” Billi countered, holding out her hands to grasp mine. Her brown eyes were glowing, her posture perfect beneath her Mountaintop Rescue T-shirt and black jeans, and her smile most likely matched mine. “In fact, Jack—”

“Jack what?” interrupted a voice behind us, which sounded a whole lot like that very guy. I turned.

Jack was in fact there, dressed as the businessman that he was. He, too, was smiling—and his smile was aimed at Billi.

She seemed to flush a little as she looked at him, and I figured that whatever their differences were before, they might be an item once again.

“Jack’s welcome here,” I finished for her.

“In case I haven’t told you often enough before,” Jack said, looking at me, “Jack is very grateful.”

I laughed. “He’s also innocent,” I said. “You both were.”

“Of course,” Jack said. “But that doesn’t mean we weren’t in danger of being arrested.”

“Amen.” Billi turned to me. “You know they’ll never admit it to you, Carrie, but the cops are starting to respect your murder-solving abilities.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, I mean it,” Billi said. “In fact—wait a minute. Someone’s coming in who should hear this.”

I knew who must be entering the shop and turned to see Reed come in.

“Hey, I took an hour off at the clinic. I wanted to see this.” He came up and put his arm around me.

If we hadn’t been in public, I’d have kissed him. But being in public didn’t matter to him. He bent down and kissed me, so I of course had to kiss him back.

“Now, Reed, you should hear what I’m about to say.” Billi was speaking, but Jack had taken the opportunity, given my closeness with Reed, to snuggle up to her. In all fairness, the shop was so crowded that all the humans seemed to be close to one another, but still …

“Hear what?” Reed looked particularly handsome that day in his blue Knobcone Veterinary Clinic sweatshirt, with his angular, smiling face beneath messy dark hair. Oh, heck. He always looked handsome to me.

“I made a point of talking to Chief Loretta a couple of days ago—as a City Councilwoman, not just to express my relief at being cleared of the murder. Despite my concerns about how the case was initially handled, she was very nice and gracious and made a comment something like, ‘this police department is highly skilled in ensuring justice is done, and we appreciate and respect our citizens’ assistance.’”

“That sounds familiar,” Jack said. “Was it the same quote she gave to local media?”

“Could be,” Billi said. Her arm was around his back, as his was around hers, and I felt really happy for them.

“You did a good job, Carrie.” Reed sounded reluctant. “I’d never deny that. But when that woman was caught holding a gun on you, after trying to make you fall down the mountainside—”

“Yeah. Even though the cops were listening, I wasn’t exactly safe. I know it. And I was scared. You were right. I should be more careful.” I looked up at him solemnly, to find him watching me with a caring and worried expression.

“So even if a dozen more murders occur in this town, you’ll stay out of trying to solve them?”

I pursed my lips. “I never wanted to get involved in the first place, but given the circumstances and the people involved … ”

“I get it.” Reed shook his head. “You can’t say no.”

“Well, I didn’t say I would do it again, either. In fact, no. I won’t ever solve a murder again.”

“That makes me very glad.” He bent to kiss me again.

“Hey, you two.”

When I pulled away, I saw Neal entering the store—and Janelle making her way toward him from behind the glass display counter. They, too, traded kisses.

My other assistants were in Icing, which was busy, too, with people who’d come to see the dogs and left wanting treats of their own. I definitely had to work out how to give some raises around here. Since I’d finally made up my mind to sell one recipe to VimPets and Jack, my idea to use at least some of the proceeds for raises sounded more logical than ever. And depending on how that first sale went, I might even sell them some more later.

I noticed then that Neal hadn’t come in alone. A short, thin lady in a fussy blouse and long skirt followed him. And in her arms was a small Yorkie mix—maybe the dog who’d been rescued on the hike.

Any doubt I had was immediately dispelled. “You’re Carrie. I’m Hilda, Witchy’s owner. I can’t believe what happened when I was only away for one day! I hope Neal’s told you how much I appreciate what you did to help save Witchy from that ledge.” She got closer and used her arm that was not holding her little dog—Witchy—to hug me.

“Neal was the real hero,” I told her. I’d already heard from Reed that little Witchy was fine after her exam and was back with her owner.

“I know he is. But I’ve heard the whole story now and I really appreciate you and everyone else here. In fact, I think Witchy needs a friend. If there are any small dogs available for adoption today, I want to meet them.”

Billi had clearly been eavesdropping. “I want to introduce you to Honey, then. She’s a Chihuahua mix, about Witchy’s size.” She gestured for Hilda to follow her.

“I think it’s time to pass out more sample treats that people can bring home to their pets—and that the dogs here can taste, too,” I said to Janelle. She grinned, and we both made our way behind the display case.

When we emerged, we each held a paper plate filled mostly with small carob biscuits shaped like bones. We started passing them out.

And I was thrilled, a minute later, to hear a cheer go up from the Mountaintop Rescue volunteers. A lab mix named Singsing was about to be adopted. The would-be owner had already filled out the form, which Billi approved pending a later follow-up.

And then it was Honey’s turn. Hilda did in fact want to adopt her as Witchy’s friend, and Billi approved her paperwork, too.

I joined in the cheers and applause.

And felt really, really good. Just over a week ago I’d feared we would never be able to hold another event like this again, since Billi might be arrested at any minute.

Now, the right person was behind bars for Wanda Addler’s murder, and some wonderful, needy dogs were finding new homes. Apparently the cats were, too.

Plus, Halloween was tomorrow, and my brother would hold his next hike then. All was well.

I smiled yet again, and as I did so, I met Reed’s gaze.

“Care to join Hugo and me for dinner at our place tonight?” he asked, and I liked the suggestive expression on his face.

“Oh, yes. Biscuit and I will definitely be there.” I took a step closer to him and held his hand as another potential adopter started filling out the paperwork for a pit bull.

the end