I had just made it back to the hallway, where I pretended to be watching Diva from the French doors, when I felt Tom breathing down my neck.
“Where did you disappear to?” he asked, standing way too close for comfort.
“Just checking on Diva,” I said, inching closer to the door.
I jiggled the handle. Locked, of course.
Suddenly a large hawk swooped down toward the dog. I was instinctively reaching to my back pocket for the key to open the doors when Tom pushed past me. He produced the key he had taken from the bedroom, turned the lock, and flung open the door.
Diva, who looked a little uncertain over what the outcome of her battle would be, dashed through the doors and hovered closely behind my legs. I reached down, picked up the shaking puppy, and buried my face in her fur.
“Let’s get this place locked up,” said Kip. “Winter, where did you put the key you used to get into the house?”
My cheeks felt on fire as I continued to nuzzle Diva. What would Kip think if he saw the outline of the skeleton key branded into my jean pocket? And why had I kept that key? I told myself it was in case I needed something for Diva. In truth, this house held secrets that my insatiable curiosity was having trouble ignoring. Relinquishing that key would close the door on the opportunity to find answers.
Besides, I rationalized, Mrs. Arlington had invited me into the most intimate details of her life. The fact that she had left so much unsaid didn’t mean she didn’t want me to do my normal due diligence to get her obit done well.
Sure, Winter, keep telling yourself that.
“I think I left it in the kitchen,” I lied.
Tom relocked the French door, and before he could pocket the skeleton, Kip suggested they check with Fire and Dispatch to see who the key holder was for the Arlington estate.
Some people left keys with the police and fire departments in case their homes had to be entered while they were away. Others asked neighbors to be key holders and hold alarm codes. From the small white electronic panels evident on the first floor, I deduced that Mrs. Arlington had an alarm, so it wasn’t a reach to think she would have provided a way for responders to enter her home.
Tom stepped out the front door, eyes glued to his cell in search of a signal. A minute later he returned and let us know that emergency responders had access through a neighbor named Burton Hemlocker. Something flitted across his face when he said the name before he mumbled that he would put the key back where he found it and hurried up the staircase.
Hemlocker was a well-known name around town, and not only because he’d joined the ranks of some of the wealthiest Ridgefielders. The Nosy Parkers had had a lot to say when the financier married his trophy wife, a woman over twenty years his junior. As I recalled, their opulent estate, often the highlight of house tours, was also somewhere near West Mountain Road, not far from Mrs. Arlington’s house.
The officers waited as I gathered the dog bed, a couple of toys I found in the pantry, a bag of dog food, and a half-eaten bone I found on Diva’s bed. I stuck the bone into my back pocket, hoping it would disguise the outline of the key I still had. My intention, I told Kip and Tom, was to drop Diva and her stuff with Brittany and her boyfriend at their cottage.
We left through the mudroom door. I now either had to fess up that the key normally kept on the doorframe was in my pocket or come up with another way to lock the door behind us.
“Wait a minute,” I said, and hurried into the kitchen. This would have been a good time to remove the key from my pocket and bring it back out to Kip and Tom as if I’d just remembered where I had left it. Instead, I removed the key on the hook near the phone and, back in the mudroom, waved it toward Kip.
“This should probably be left above the doorframe,” I said as I placed it in his outstretched hand.
Kip locked both doors and then surprised me by pocketing the key. “If we know about it and Mark Goodwin knows, others might also. I’ll leave it at the station.”
Was he taking the key so I wouldn’t sneak back?
Diva appeared at my feet with that stupid blue sneaker in her mouth again.
“Fine,” I said, because I was through trying to control this willful animal. The sooner she was out of my hands, the better.
And then a thought hit me. An uncomfortable one. Where was Brittany? Surely she would have heard the sirens coming and going.
Diva and I climbed into the Subaru and followed Kip and Tom out of the circular drive and down to the small guest cottage that Brittany shared with her boyfriend. The skeleton key and the dog bone were now tucked into the car’s door pocket.
“There’s no one home,” I said, after ringing the doorbell. Diva looked dejected and headed back to the car, where I had left the door open.
“That’s for sure,” said Kip, who had been looking in windows. “They’ve cleared out.”
Tom, looking bored, stayed leaning against the cruiser, swiping at his phone.
“What do you mean, cleared out?” I asked, trying to peer past Kip to see through a large picture window to the right of the front door.
“Take a look,” said Kip, moving aside so I could get a better look.
The house had bare-bones furnishings—a carpet, couch, and chairs—but no personal touches like photographs or throw pillows. I could see an open-floor-plan kitchen and island with stools. The countertops were empty save for a toaster and a coffee maker. There wasn’t a stray dish or even a piece of mail in sight. The house felt abandoned. I returned to the front door and turned the knob. The door swung open.
Kip pushed past me. “Let me check,” he said, calling out as he entered the house.
A minute later, when he returned shaking his head, I did my own appraisal. Closets were devoid of clothing. The bathroom had no toiletries. There was nothing more than a few dishes in the kitchen cupboards and an open box of baking soda in the fridge. Brittany and her boyfriend must have planned for this exit, because the house was clean, with no signs of a hasty retreat.
“Great,” I said, as reality began to sink in and we headed back to the cars. “What am I going to do with Diva?”
“ROAR will probably take her,” said Tom, who was now within earshot.
“I can’t take her there. What if Mrs. Arlington recovers and we’ve sent her off somewhere else to live?”
“Looks like you’ll have to dog sit for now,” said Kip.
“Why me?” I didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a willful puppy. Surely this must fall under the category of protect and serve.
I reached my car and slid into the driver’s seat. Before I could pull the door shut, Kip leaned on it and surprised me with a smile—a very nice smile that lit up his serious gray eyes.
“Why do you think?” he asked, and nodded toward the passenger seat, where Diva was curled contentedly with no evidence of her earlier claustrophobia. With her was her favorite new chew toy, the ratty blue sneaker. Next to it was my cell phone.
“How did you get that out?”
Diva wagged her tail.
“She’s a pretty clever little thing,” said Kip. He indicated a line of claw marks that raked over the cloth mat, now shifted out of place in front of the seat. She must have pawed at it until she moved it enough to pull my cell phone free.
“Great, she just destroyed the carpet,” I said.
Kip took in the old clunker, with its stained cloth seats and pockmarked exterior from a hailstorm encounter. “No one will even notice.” And then his smile faded as he relinquished the car door.
“Stay out of here, Winter,” he warned. “We could be looking at a crime scene.”