‘Mrs McGill! What are you doing here?’
Mary had known Gary Roberts all his life, had applauded his choice when he joined the Santa Louisa police department, had seen him in action during several police investigations but had never seen him look so stricken.
‘Why? Is there something I shouldn’t be seeing?’
‘No. Not at all. It’s just that … You shouldn’t be out of bed. Should you?’
Mary stopped herself from saying something she’d regret. She didn’t want to snap Gary’s head off. She wanted information and he wouldn’t give it to her if she got his back up. She took another look at his closed face and sighed. He probably wasn’t going to give her any no matter what she said. Or didn’t say.
Luckily, Dan appeared. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘He already asked me that. I want to know about that footprint.’
‘So badly you couldn’t wait to get dressed?’
Mary looked down. Her pajama bottoms peeked out from underneath the bottom of her heavy bathrobe, the one with the reindeer romping around on it. She’d gotten it at St Mark’s semi-annual rummage sale for less than a dollar several years ago and had been wearing it ever since. She’d actually forgotten she had it on, so many things had happened.
She shrugged.
Dan smiled. ‘Come on. I’ll walk you home.
‘I don’t want to go home. I want to know—’
‘About the footprint. I’ll tell you what we know while we walk.’ He took her by the arm and gently but firmly turned her around. ‘This wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to spend my Sunday, tromping through bushes looking at footprints.’
‘Did you find one?’
‘We did. Also some freshly broken branches. Someone was there, in front of Ronaldo’s bedroom.’
Mary’s breath caught in her throat. Tony was right. ‘Was it a sandal?’
Dan nodded. ‘A big one. Belonged to a tall man.’
‘Oh, no.’ She stopped and clutched Dan’s arm. ‘Do you know whose it was?’
‘If you mean, have we matched it with Father D’Angelo’s, no, not yet.’ He gently removed her arm from his sleeve and propelled her up her front walk.
‘Why ever not?’ Mary didn’t want Father D’Angelo implicated, but the thought that someone had been outside the children’s windows, trying to get in, made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t believe Dan wasn’t going to do something to find out who had been prowling around.
‘We’re taking a cast of the footprint and pictures, besides examining the branches broken off the bush. We’ll compare the footprint with the one we took in the manger. If they match, we’ll have a little talk with Father D’Angelo. Until then …’
They were on the porch.
Dan opened the door. A small, yelping whirlwind immediately descended on them, barking, whining and welcoming them home.
Dan caught Millie just as she tried to jump into Mary’s arms. ‘Here, stop that. You’re going to knock her down.’ He held onto the wiggling dog while closing the front door with his foot. ‘For Pete’s sake, go sit down so I can let go of this thing. You’d think you’d been gone a month.’
Mary sank down on the sofa with more than a little gratitude. She hurt more than she’d thought.
Dan let go of the dog, who immediately jumped up on the sofa, buried her head in Mary’s lap and sighed.
‘She gets upset. I think she misses Evan.’ Mary stroked the silky ears and gave a small sigh of her own. ‘All right. What happens if the footprints don’t match? Even if they do, how do you know the sandal is Father’s? How do you know it’s a sandal?’
Dan looked around, grabbed the back of the rocking chair, pulled it closer to the coffee table and sat down. He leaned forward but didn’t let it rock. ‘We know it’s a sandal because of the tread and shape of the sole. We also know whoever was outside didn’t try to get into the house. Never touched the window.’
Mary stopped stroking the dog’s ears and stared at him. ‘How do you know that?’
‘We dusted both Ronaldo’s and Dalia’s windowsills for prints. Nada. Nothing.’
‘None at all?’
‘Remnants of old ones, half washed away. We had rain the night of the Victorian Christmas Extravaganza. Not much, but enough to leave nice fresh dirt on the windowsill but no fresh prints.’
‘Then why …?’
‘Don’t know. Someone was there, behind the bushes all right, but whatever he was doing it wasn’t trying to break into the house.’
The dog nudged Mary’s hand with her nose. Absently, Mary resumed stroking. ‘Luanne said she thought she heard a cat. Could it have been …?’
Dan shook his head. ‘It was a man out there. A fairly big man. He wears about the same size shoe I do. I don’t know any man who would wander around in the bushes looking for a cat. Most would figure the cat could get along fine without them. I doubt I’d go out looking for Jake, and I’m pretty fond of him.’
Mary buried her smile by looking at Millie. If Jake was outside when Ellen didn’t want him outside, Dan would go looking. Of that, she was certain. However …
‘If whoever it was wasn’t trying to break in or look for his cat, what was he doing? Wandering around in someone’s bushes in the middle of the night isn’t a normal pastime.’
All traces of amusement left Dan’s face. ‘You’re right. We don’t know what he wanted.’
‘Do you think it was the murderer?’ Mary could hardly get the words out around the tightness in her throat. ‘Did Tony scare him off before he could do anything?’
Dan shook his head. ‘Don’t know. That’s certainly a possibility but since nothing happened …’
‘You have the footprint.’
‘We do, but we can hardly go house-to-house asking every man over six foot tall if he has a sandal and can we see if it matches our casting. This isn’t Cinderella. Even if we found the right person, which is more than doubtful, what do we do then?’
‘Ask him what he thought he was doing prowling around under the windows of small children.’ Mary sat up as straight as the soft sofa cushions would allow. Worry and indignation made her forget the pain in her leg.
‘I don’t think we’d get an answer. Right now we’ll just keep as close an eye on them as we can and keep working on finding whoever killed Cliff and Evan.’
‘Are you making any progress?’ Suddenly, tiredness overtook Mary. The sight of the bundle of blood-soaked rags that had been Cliff swam into her memory, followed closely by the crumpled body of poor Evan laying half in and half out of the tiny shop bathroom. A shudder ran through her, one strong enough to make her head ache.
The look on Dan’s face didn’t help any. ‘Not much. Half the people in town were in and out of Evan’s shop. Trying to sort out all those prints is impossible.’
‘How about the people who were there yesterday?’
‘Yesterday was Saturday. Evan was killed Friday late afternoon or early evening.’
Mary nodded. Dan was right. Yesterday was Saturday. She’d found Evan mid-morning and had fallen off the crate around then as well. It hadn’t been her best day.
Dan grinned. ‘Town was full of people. We’re interested in the ones who were there in Evan’s shop last, but that’s proving a little confusing as well.’
Mary let her hand drop off the dog’s ears as she concentrated on what Dan said. ‘What do you mean?’
Dan shrugged. ‘We’ve talked to most of the shop owners and, of course, to Luke. The flower shop girl – what’s her name – Debbie? Anyway, business was slow and she evidently spent part of her time looking out the front door. She remembers seeing Luke go in, also John and Glen, but not exactly what time and can’t remember who came out first. She didn’t see Father D’Angelo coming out but remembers him going in.’
‘How about Bill Bliss? We know he went in, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why. They don’t have a dog. They don’t even have a cat.’
Dan looked at her curiously. ‘You mentioned him before. How do you know they don’t?’
‘I asked Tony. He said he was glad they didn’t. The little dog that disappeared, Merlot, was always running through the vineyard and he was scared he’d get hurt, or killed, because they couldn’t see him. He said he didn’t want to go through that again.’
Dan sat back and ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at Mary. ‘Sometimes I wonder why I have detectives on staff. What about Luke? From the library Luke. What do you know about him?’
‘Other than what we found out the other day? He has a poodle but doesn’t show him. However, he does breed him. Or did once. He let Evan use the dog on his cocker to have puppies …’ Mary looked at the little dog then back at Dan. ‘It was Millie who had the puppies.’ She ran her hand through the curly hair on the back of Millie’s neck. ‘Wasn’t it?’
The dog didn’t answer.
‘I know it was her. Luke said it was, and she is the only dog Evan had.’ Mary felt stricken for no good reason she could understand. Dogs had puppies all the time. Millie looked perfectly healthy and she certainly looked happy. At least, she did right now.
‘What’s the matter?’
Mary could feel Dan’s eyes on her, curious about her sudden change of mood. ‘I don’t know exactly.’ Her words came out slowly as she tried to sort out her thoughts. No. More like emotions. ‘It’s just that, well, John and Glen were here earlier. I guess they’re Evan’s heirs, if that’s the word, and they intimated they wanted to take Millie. They said they thought she might be too much for me.’ Mary snorted.
Dan laughed.
Mary shot him a look. ‘They breed little dogs called cockapoos.’
Dan looked blank. ‘Why does that matter?’
‘I don’t know that it does. Only, Millie—’ Mary let her hand once more caress the dog’s ears, who sighed with pleasure and wiggled deeper into Mary’s lap. ‘Millie had puppies and Luke’s poodle was the father. John and Glen wanted to use him on their dog but he refused. Evidently Cliff had something to do with that, but I’m not sure what.’
‘And your point?’ Dan watched her, his head slightly cocked to one side, his expression dubious.
‘I’m not sure, but everything about Cliff and Evan seems to revolve around dogs in some way. I can’t help but feel …’
‘I can’t say we’re coming up with anything any better, but somehow dogs don’t seem a very good reason for murder.’ The expression on his face changed as he, too, seemed to follow a thought. ‘However, financial gain might. From what Les says, John and Glen are the heirs to whatever Evan had, and that was more than appeared on the surface. The house is free and clear. He also owned the building where his shop is. The only stipulation is that they keep his mother in Shady Acres.’
‘How do you know that?’ John and Glen had told Mary they would take over the shop, but they hadn’t mentioned any of the financial arrangements. Not that they should have. It was none of her business. But now she wondered. Was she wrong about the dogs? No. She didn’t think so, and she refused to believe that either John or Glen would murder someone. They might have a motive, of sorts, but what about Cliff? Surely the same person was responsible for both murders. However … ‘Oh.’ She gasped.
‘What?’ Now Dan leaned forward, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, ready to push himself up. ‘What have you remembered?’
‘John and Glen. They were here this morning.’
‘So you said. What about it?’
‘Glen. He had on … he’s usually so carefully dressed.’
‘Mary, get to the point.’
She could hardly get the words out, but she had no choice. ‘Dan, Glen had on a sweatshirt over some kind of workout pants.’
‘I don’t think workout pants made you go white. What else did he have on?’
‘White socks.’
Dan raised one eyebrow. ‘And?’
‘Sandals.’