Her hand was wet. Something was licking her. Mary bolted upright and looked at her hand. Wet. What … The dog sat on the floor, looking up at her. She made a soft whine, stood up and headed for the bedroom door. She couldn’t have made it plainer. Mary slid out of bed, thrust her feet into fur-lined moccasins, grabbed her robe off the end of the bed and followed. The kitchen clock said eight thirty, late for her. She yawned and opened the back door. The dog bolted out. Mary returned to the kitchen, looked at the coffeepot. Should she push the button or go back to bed? She pushed the button.
The dog returned to the kitchen, sat down and looked at Mary.
‘It’s too early for breakfast. I haven’t had my coffee yet.’
The dog walked over to her empty bowl, looked inside and made a whining sound.
‘Oh, all right.’
She bent over to pick up the bowl and immediately the room started to spin. ‘Oh, that isn’t good.’ She dropped the bowl on the countertop and leaned against it until her head cleared. ‘Why did that happen? I don’t have a concussion.’
‘Probably because you banged it hard on asphalt and have six stitches in your leg. Go back to bed.’
Mary’s hold on the counter slipped as she swung around to face the owner of the voice. ‘How did you get in here?’
‘You didn’t close the door after you let the dog in. Go sit down. I’ll get your coffee and feed the dog.’
Ellen crossed the kitchen and put an arm under her aunt’s and led her to the kitchen table. ‘Sit.’
Mary did. Much to her annoyance, her leg was on fire and her head hurt. The dizziness was gone, but the side of her head, where the goose egg hadn’t retreated, ached. ‘Damn.’
‘You can’t expect to fall through boxes onto asphalt and come out unscathed.’ Ellen put a full mug of coffee in front of her aunt, turned and set a bowl of food in front of the dog. The dog started to eat and Mary immediately picked up her mug. She put it down almost as fast as she picked it up. ‘Hot.’ She tried to smile but suddenly even that seemed too much of an effort. She needed pain pills. Two white pills and a glass of water appeared in front of her.
‘What’s this?’
‘You look like you need them. Did you sleep?’ Ellen set her mug on the table, pulled out a chair opposite Mary and settled into it.
‘Better than the dog did. I heard her prowling around a couple of times. I had to get up to use the bathroom and offered her a chance, but she ignored it. She just prowled around.’
Ellen sighed. ‘Looking for Evan. Poor little thing. Are you going to keep her?’
‘I don’t know.’
Mary had never had a dog. She’d never felt the need, even after Samuel died. Lots of her friends took comfort in their pets, treating them almost as they would, or had, their children. Mary had had all the children she needed while she taught middle school and, after she retired, her volunteer work and her closeness to her niece and her family and her many friends fulfilled her. She didn’t need the added work of a dog. But this one … The dog left her now-empty bowl, pushed close to Mary’s leg and sighed.
‘Maybe.’ Mary reached down and rubbed the dog’s ears, soft and silky under her fingers. ‘We’ll see.’ She glanced up just in time to see a smile hastily wiped off Ellen’s face. ‘What are you doing here at this time of morning, anyway? Church doesn’t start for another hour.’
‘I came to see how you are and to bring you a message from Les. He says he doesn’t want to see you in church this morning and if you show up he will personally escort you back out the door and bring you home, even in the middle of a sermon. I’m to make sure you don’t try.’
‘You’re all making a terrible fuss over a little accident. I’m fine.’ She took another sip of coffee and hoped burying her face in her mug would hide her relief. As much as she wanted to talk to Les, she really didn’t feel like getting dressed and going downtown.
‘The hole in your leg isn’t small but the knot on your head’s bigger. What made you climb on that crate, anyway?’
Mary absently scratched the dog’s ears. Why had she? ‘I was worried about Evan. When I saw his car in the parking lot and realized the engine was cold …’
‘You felt the engine?’
Mary nodded. ‘I wanted to know how long the car had been there.’
Ellen shook her head. ‘Dan’s right. We’ve got to stop watching CSI. OK. The engine was cold. Then what did you do?’
‘Tried to look in the back window of the shop but it was too high. I was beginning to get nervous, so when I saw the crate, I used it. It wasn’t very sturdy.’
‘No.’ Ellen shook her head again. ‘Why didn’t you call one of us?’
‘I didn’t have anything to say. Just an uneasy feeling that something was wrong. This dog was barking all night. When I found her and realized Evan wasn’t home, I was sure something was wrong. He’s not – wasn’t – the kind of person who’d neglect his dog. Do you think she misses him?’
‘What? Who? Oh.’ Ellen looked at the dog, who stared back. ‘I don’t know much about dogs, but she must be pretty confused. So am I. Why would anyone want to kill Evan? He wasn’t victim material.’
Mary squelched the laugh that threatened to erupt. It was guaranteed to make her head hurt. She had to agree with Ellen, however. Evan was the last person she thought would be a murder victim. This was no random mugging, no bullet going astray and killing an innocent bystander. This was a deliberate act intended for Evan and him alone. Why? What could gentle, slightly nervous but always kind Evan have done that made someone angry enough to kill him? ‘What does Dan say?’
‘A lot, but none of it very useful.’ Ellen grinned. ‘He’s furious. First poor old Cliff, now Evan, and he doesn’t have a clue for either who or why. When he thought you were shot, that really sent him over the edge. I wouldn’t want to be in the murderer’s shoes when he catches him, and he will catch him.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’ Mary sighed deeply. She looked at the dog who hadn’t moved from her side. ‘This all seems so senseless. Unless …’
‘Unless, what?’ All traces of a smile were gone from Ellen’s face. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘About dogs.’ The vague thought forming disappeared under the insistent ringing of her front doorbell.
‘Good grief. Who is that at this hour? Are they trying to push the bell through the wall? Ellen, will you go?’
Ellen was already halfway across the kitchen. ‘Whoever it is, they better have a good reason for trying to push that bell through the wall.’ The ringing turned into knocking. ‘I’m coming. I’m coming.’ Her step quickened with extreme irritation. If whoever that was didn’t have a good reason for making all that noise Ellen was likely to make a little of her own.
‘Where is she?’ Mary was sure that breathless shout belonged to Glen Manning.
Ellen’s exasperated ‘what on earth’ was loud enough to reach Mary in the kitchen. She was prepared when Glen appeared at her side. He was dressed in the same chinos he’d had on when she saw him late Friday afternoon, only now the sharp crease down the pant leg had disappeared. But the sandals he’d worn hadn’t.
‘Are you all right? Oh, your poor head.’ He squatted down beside her and reached out his hand, but stopped before it made contact with the bump pushing up through the shaved part of Mary’s scalp.
‘Don’t touch it.’ John was right behind Glen, his voice sharp, almost as sharp as the welcoming barks the little dog gave as she circled the two men, her stub of a tail wagging her rear end. John knelt down and was immediately plied with wet kisses. ‘Oh, Millie, oh, poor Millie. Are you all right? Have you been nice to Miss Mary? She got hurt too.’ He gathered the little dog in his arms and looked at Mary. ‘We came as soon as we heard.’
‘Heard what?’ Ellen leaned against the doorjamb leading from the dining room into the kitchen, her face devoid of expression.
‘Why, about Evan’s death, of course, and about poor Mary getting attacked by the murderer.’ John, still on the floor, held the dog a little tighter as he looked from Mary to Ellen and back.
The dog yelped.
‘We spent the night in San Luis Obispo. We’d been trying to reach Evan – he always feeds our dogs when we’re gone – but he didn’t respond to any of our messages, so we got an early start back. We walked in the door and our answering machine was blinking like crazy. We still can’t believe it. Are you all right, Mary?’ Glen once more leaned in toward Mary, this time touching her on the shoulder. ‘Do you know who attacked you?’
Ellen smiled and pushed herself away from the door. ‘She was attacked by a wooden box. Would you two like coffee?’
‘What?’ Glen stood and stared at Ellen.
‘A box?’ John let go of the dog and also got to his feet.
The dog went back to Mary, put her front legs in her lap and let her head drop down into it. Mary trailed her hand through the soft curls on one ear. ‘I was worried about Evan. I thought he’d gone to San Luis with you two, but his dog barked all night. I didn’t think he’d leave her out like that, without food or water, but I couldn’t find him. It was after ten and he hadn’t opened his shop, even though his car was there, so I tried to look through the window. I stood on the box and it collapsed.’ Her face heated. ‘It was a very flimsy box.’
‘You two spent most of the weekend down there?’ Ellen poured coffee into two mugs, her back to all of them. Her stance looked rigid and her voice unnaturally careful. Ellen liked John and Glen and thought John was funny in spite of his not-funny job as a surgery nurse. She banked at the local bank which Glen managed and had nothing but good things to say about how he ran it, so why, now, was she being so cautious? Or was it something else?
Ellen turned and handed Glen one of Mary’s blue and white mugs. She walked across the room, avoided stepping on the dog still glued to Mary’s side and handed John the other one. Then she picked up her cup and resumed her seat across from Mary.
John and Glen looked at each other over the tops of their mugs. John took a tentative sip.
Glen looked into his. ‘Yes. We’d planned to come home Friday night, after the dance, but one thing led to another and, well, driving home wouldn’t have been a good idea. A friend offered us a bed and we took it. We left Evan a voice message, asking him to take care of the girls.’
‘That was Friday night, wasn’t it?’ Mary’s tone left no doubt that she wanted to know where they were last night as well.
John shrugged. ‘A bunch of our friends decided to go to the beach. It’s nice over there this time of year. We called Evan, but no one answered. We thought he was still pouting but knew he’d take care of the girls, so we went along and ended up spending the night.’
‘Pouting?’ Ellen walked over to the sink and ran water in her coffee mug. ‘What was he pouting about?’
‘Evan was supposed to come with us but begged off at the last minute.’ Glen didn’t look at either Mary or Ellen but studied his mug intently. ‘I think he had an attack of shyness. He didn’t know any of the people we were going to be with. We put a little pressure on him – he’d never get to know them if he didn’t try, but that sort of backfired. We stopped by one last time to persuade him to come, but he wouldn’t, so we went without him. When he didn’t answer, we thought he was …’ There was a catch in his voice. He cleared his throat. ‘I – we – couldn’t believe it when we got home this morning and heard the messages on the machine.’
Neither Mary nor Ellen said anything while Glen cleared his throat again.
‘I still can’t. Why would anyone want to hurt Evan?’
John set his mug on the table, walked over and took Glen’s hand. He squeezed it before he looked at them. ‘Evan was our best friend.’ A simple statement, but the emotion in it was raw. He blinked several times, dropped Glen’s hand and walked over toward Mary and peered at her head. ‘Did they put stitches in your scalp?’
Mary had to think about that. ‘I think so, but not many. They shaved off my hair and put me in that awful machine to see if I had brain damage. I could have told them I didn’t.’
‘You did. Several times.’ Ellen walked back over to the coffeemaker and turned her attention to the two men. ‘So, you didn’t know about Evan until you got home this morning?’
‘Not exactly.’ Glen joined Ellen at the sink. He took the empty pot out of her hands, rinsed it, filled it with water and handed it back to her. ‘We went out for an early breakfast. There was a TV turned on to the local news. We couldn’t believe it.’
‘We left right away and came home. Our answering machine was full. Someone said you had Millie.’ He paused and scratched his head as if thinking. ‘Can’t remember who. But they also said you were hurt. Or was that someone else?’
Glen interrupted. ‘Anyway, we’re here and so glad you weren’t attacked. What happened was bad enough. Did you, ah, see anything before the box collapsed?’
‘Evan’s body on the floor right in front of the bathroom.’
John gave a visual shudder.
Glen’s face paled. ‘Do you know what happened?’
‘Someone stabbed him, just like someone stabbed Cliff.’ Ellen’s tone wasn’t quite as frosty but it wasn’t especially friendly. Why?
Glen’s face hadn’t regained any color and he clutched his coffee mug closely to his chest, but his voice was steady. ‘Any idea when?’
‘The coroner thinks sometime between six and eight on Friday evening.’
Mary turned a little too quickly to look at Ellen. ‘When did you learn that?’
‘Dan talked to him this morning.’
‘That means he was killed shortly after we left.’ Glen’s tone was soft and thoughtful.
John’s wasn’t. ‘That’s awful. I can’t believe we no more than got out the door than someone stabbed poor Evan. Who would do such a thing?’
The dog looked up at the half-hysterical tone of John’s voice then curled up as close to a ball as she could, one paw on Mary’s foot.
‘Who was in the shop when you left?’ Mary looked at the dog. She, at least, looked peaceful. The rest of them didn’t.
‘Father D’Angelo came just as we left. Luke Bradshaw was there too, buying dog food.’ Glen paused and finished off the coffee in his mug. He looked over at the coffeemaker, but it hadn’t finished dripping coffee into the carafe.
‘Evan and Luke were arguing.’ John dropped that into the conversation as if it were a juicy bit of gossip he’d saved just for this moment.
‘Arguing? What about?’ Mary glanced at Ellen, who almost unperceptively nodded. Evidently Ellen was going to keep out of this conversation.
‘About purebred dogs, as usual. Evan wanted Luke to let us breed one of our cockers to his poodle. Luke wasn’t having any of that. He thinks cockapoo is a four-letter word.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Mary felt this conversation was getting away from her. What was wrong with cockapoos? They were adorable. They reminded her of those cute stuffed animals all the teenage girls loved. What could be better than having a live one?
The look Glen shot John was razor sharp. ‘Most breeders of purebred dogs don’t like hybrids. They’re interested in trying to improve the breed they’ve chosen and don’t want to muddy up their precious bloodlines. Horse people aren’t too much different. People who breed cockapoos are trying to get them recognized as a breed by the ACK, but so far that hasn’t happened. So people like Naomi Bliss and Bonnie Blankenship never let their dogs cross bloodlines. Luke bred his dog to a cocker once. Evan thought he might again. He’s not going to show the dog or stand him at stud, even though he’s an especially nice one.’
Ellen held her coffee mug in both hands as if it might escape if she let it go. Her face had lost its stony look. Instead, it had the intense look of a bloodhound who had picked up the scent.
‘Why did Evan think Luke might be willing to have his dog father puppies for you two?’
Glen and John exchanged looks again.
‘Because he let Evan breed Millie to him.’ Glen sounded as if each word was pulled out of his mouth against his will.
Mary’s foot was going to sleep under the weight of the dog’s head and she moved it a little. The dog looked at her, moved a little closer and let her head drop back down on the foot again.
Mary wiggled her toes. ‘If Luke let his dog father one litter of cockapoos, why did he balk at doing it again?’
Both men shrugged.
‘I always thought it had something to do with Cliff. He was so adamant about never crossing breeds. Some of that rubbed off on Luke when he was young.’
‘Then how did Evan get Luke to let his dog father Millie’s pups?’ Mary looked at the still sleeping dog, trying to picture her as a mother. She was sure the puppies had been adorable.
‘We never could get Evan to say,’ John said, ‘and Lord knows, we tried.’
‘We have to go. Mary, we’re so glad you aren’t hurt any worse. This is all so terrible. I’m still in shock. It doesn’t seem real, but it is.’ Glen set the cup on the drain board, paused, his back to them, his shoulders rounded, his head slightly bowed before he turned. ‘We have to meet with Les after this morning’s services and plan Evan’s funeral. Is it all right if we leave Millie here for a little longer? We’ll be back to get her as soon as we can.’
Mary felt a jolt go through her. They were going to take the dog? ‘Why?’
‘Why, what?’ John paused on his way to deposit his mug in the sink.
‘Why take her? I like her and think I’d like to keep her.’ Mary looked at the black head, still firmly planted on her foot. She trembled a little when she realized what she’d just said. A dog was a commitment. Taking responsibility for any pet was one she’d never been willing to make before. So, why now? What was there about this dog … she didn’t know. But she wanted her. ‘I’ll take good care of her.’
‘I don’t know …’ John began slowly.
‘Is it up to you to say?’ Ellen sounded a little short, as if she thought John had overstepped his bounds.
‘Actually, yes.’ There was something in Glen’s tone … asperity? Impatience? Certainly a little sharpness. ‘We are Evan’s executors.’
Why Mary felt stunned, she didn’t know, but somehow that wasn’t expected. ‘Executors? What about his family?’
‘Evan was an only child,’ Glen said. ‘His father is dead and his mother has dementia and is in Shady Acres. She has no legal capacity over her affairs. Evan was worried about what might happen if he had an accident or something. We worked this out last year.’
‘I’m taking over the shop.’ John seemed, for the first time, serious. No gushing over the dog, no almost hysterics, no waving about of arms, just a short, simple statement. He and Glen again exchanged glances. Glen nodded slightly.
‘I’ve wanted Evan to sell part ownership to me for ages. I was totally burnt out at the hospital and wanted something else to do. He wouldn’t make up his mind, but he did make us the trustees of his estate. The shop will be open for business again very soon. We’ll let you know about the dog.’ He walked over to Mary and gave her a light pat on the shoulder, repeated the pat on Millie’s head and nodded at Ellen.
Glen dropped a feathery kiss on Mary’s cheek, patted Millie, smiled at Ellen and they were gone.
‘Interesting.’ Ellen stared at the empty kitchen doorway.
‘I don’t think they want me to keep the dog. Why?’
‘I have no idea. I didn’t know they were that close to Evan, either.’
‘Neither did I.’ Mary let her hand drift down the dog’s ear, who had lifted her head as the men left. ‘I’d heard John left the hospital but had no idea he wanted to run a pet shop.’ She paused. ‘I wonder how badly he wanted to.’
Ellen shrugged, picked up Mary’s now-empty cup and headed for the sink. She stopped midway; turned to face Mary again. ‘Wasn’t John a surgical nurse?’
Mary nodded. ‘Yes. Why?’
‘Just thinking. He’d certainly know where to insert something long and sharp that would penetrate the heart, now, wouldn’t he?’ The look on Ellen’s face was more troubled than Mary thought she had ever seen. ‘They were at Evan’s around five thirty or so. Right?’
Mary thought about it and nodded.
‘Most dances for adults start sometime between seven and eight. San Luis Obispo is just a little over thirty minutes away. I’d like to know why they left so early and what they did for that couple of hours.’ Ellen dropped a kiss on her aunt’s forehead and turned toward the kitchen door. ‘Dan and I’ll be back later this afternoon to check on you. For heaven’s sake, try to rest.’
Mary could think of nothing to say as the door closed firmly behind Ellen.