I CASUALLY DROPPED in to my uncles’, even if it was out of the way, as I’d decided to use some of my surplus clothing. I changed into an old pair of cropped jeans, a pair of classic Keds in hot pink and a black T-shirt that could be tossed afterward if need be. I wasn’t sure what I’d find at Karen’s or what I’d have to do to find it. Be prepared, that’s what my uncles always taught me, although they’re no Boy Scouts. They’d also trained me in self-defense, evasive driving and the age-old art of getting past locked doors. I grabbed my lock picks, a gift for my sixteenth birthday. Until now, I’d never used any of the pieces except to practice.
Not willing to miss an information opportunity, I asked if there was any word on the street about the attack on a woman at Saint Sebastian’s Hall the night before.
Lucky shook his head sadly.
Mick sputtered, “What’s the world coming to, my girl?”
I took that as a no, which was, I supposed, a good thing.
I PULLED UP in front of the tiny shop on the first floor of a narrow Victorian-era redbrick house. The short street was just one block over from a trendy shopping area full of flower shops, gift shops, small bistros and decorators. It was too cute for words with all that brick and gingerbread. The sign said “The Cozy Corpse: Used and collectible crime fiction,” and underneath it added, “By appointment and by chance.” In the window, a skeleton in a jaunty red cap reclined in a comfy garden chair. A great afterlife.
No one else was in sight, but I wasn’t going to take a chance. I drove around the corner and parked the Saab well away from prying eyes.
I returned to the shop and pressed my nose to the glass in the door. Not sure why, as I was well aware that the owner was in hospital a good drive away. The store was done up in Victorian style: velvet wingback chairs, polished round tables, swag lamps. Too cute for words and I wanted desperately to get in. Maybe I’d find some Christie material that I hadn’t seen yet.
I glanced around, but this street was mainly residential and quiet. It was just about eleven. I decided to canvas the neighbors until I could find someone who knew Karen and better yet, knew where she lived. I was just about to set out when I thought I heard a strange faraway gurgle. I stopped. Listened. There it was again. I banged on the door and the gurgle echoed. A dog? I wasn’t sure. Was it drowning?
Maybe Karen lived above the shop. That would make sense. There was no vehicle in the narrow driveway, but there wouldn’t be, would there? The Cozy Corpse van was probably considered evidence by this point.
I stepped around the side and didn’t find a doorway. If Karen did live upstairs, how would she get in? A fragrant row of French lilacs hid a chain-link fence around a small grassy yard in the rear of the building. I tried to look like I belonged there as I opened the gate, stepped in and spotted the back entrance to the house. It’s all in the training.
A dog bowl filled with water sat near the steps. Was Walter in the house?
The row of lilac trees kept me from being too visible to neighbors, or so I hoped. I didn’t see anything that resembled a security camera. Again I pressed my nose to the glass window in the door. Boxes, shelves, papers. What else? Was that a staircase? Hard to tell.
I tried the door. Locked. Of course, it would be. I banged and banged and listened to the forlorn gurgle yet again. Time to fish or cut bait, as the uncles said. They’d taught me how to pick a lock when I was sixteen years old because you never know. Another Kelly motto. I’d learned quickly when Mick and Lucky started locking the treat pantry during Uncle Danny’s failed foray into Weight Watchers. Danny was always worth ten bucks a pop.
I pushed my pick carefully into the keyhole and raked at the pins in the lock. I found the pin with the most tension and wedged in my other pick, searching for the bottom pin, while still keeping the others from slipping. Sweat started beading on my upper lip. This part is the kicker. If you mess up and turn the lock in the wrong direction, you have to start from scratch, and I was at least five minutes into this operation, regretting it more with each stinging drop of water accumulating on my face. I increased the torque and held my breath long enough to hear the sweet click of the lock. I wiped my face on my T-shirt. Certainly I was leaving more than a little DNA on the scene. I scooted in, closing the door behind me. No security pad was flashing. Looked like I was good to go. The stairs ran up from the cluttered back office. I followed saying, “Don’t worry, doggie. You’ll be all right.” What should I expect from this Walter? Would it be grateful to be let out, or would it try to protect its turf?
The door at the top of the stairs wasn’t locked. “Hey, boy,” I called as I opened it. Maybe that should have been “Hey, Walter.”
The gurgle turned into a series of snorts and snuffles.
The racket stopped midsnuffle and two jet-black bulging eyes peered at me from a flat wrinkled face. Walter the Pug whimpered and wagged his strange curly nub of a tail at me. The pooch didn’t know whether to hide or seek. “Poor thing,” I said, glancing around for a leash. “Let’s get you outside.”
I was quite lucky that I didn’t get knocked down the narrow stairs as the pooch squirmed past me. I galloped after, panicked that the poor creature would escape down the street. But Walter just wanted his patch of grass after having been shut up for nearly fourteen hours. Now that’s control. I was impressed.
I said, “Now let’s get you some food, buddy.” He wriggled past me up the stairs, and I set about to find his dog food. Once he was eating, I thought, I’d search the place to see if there was anything that linked Karen to whomever she’d been in touch with, possibly even the sinister Merlin. I located some kibble in a large container and dished out what looked like a reasonable amount. From the enthusiastic snorts and snarffles I concluded that the dog was ravenous and thrilled to get extra. I put some fresh water into his empty water dish. He seemed to have the capacity to inhale food and water. Signora Panetone would have loved him. Maybe I could bring him home. No, the cat would chew him up and spit him out.
As I made my way around Karen Smith’s apartment, the pooch followed me, wagging his tail. I stopped and bent down and gave his tiny velvety ears a scratch and his belly a rub.
“Gotta get to work,” I said. “I hope you understand.”
He seemed to accept that and sat watching me as I inspected Karen’s dim and jumbled living room. It must have doubled as an extra office. Files and papers were piled around, some tumbled over. Books were stacked and used as tables here and there. Karen obviously lived for books, although her approach was a lot less obsessive than Vera Van Alst’s climate-controlled library. Every flat surface in the room had something on it. Mostly books, but also a surprisingly diverse collection of ceramic and china jugs. Every piece of the soft furnishings had quilts or throws or cushions or afghans or all of the above. It was quite dizzying. I didn’t find any useful notes along the lines of “In case of my death, so and so did it.”
I would have settled for a phone message. Or a phone.
Karen’s cell phone wasn’t there.
I took my time and carefully checked every cluttered surface. I kept my eyes open for anything to do with Agatha, of course. There were some sweet little Fontana reprints of early Christies in a teetering stack on the dining table. The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side was on the top. I hadn’t read that yet. I resisted it and kept going.
The compact kitchen was a bit neater. I was surprised to see the avocado green fridge and stove still chugging along. As Uncle Mick says, they don’t make ’em like they used to. You can’t get too vintage for me. I found no sign of cooking activities, but a row of vintage cookbooks took pride of place. The Joy of Cooking, The Moosewood Cookbook, The I Hate to Cook Book and some well-worn, dog-eared Martha Stewart Living magazines.
A box of Peek Freans sat open on the counter.
I saw no dishes in the sink.
Ah. That reminded me of something. I returned to the living room and spotted a Spode china teacup resting on top of a copy of Margery Allingham’s The Crime at Black Dudley beside the largest armchair. One single cup. It didn’t look like Karen had entertained anyone before leaving to go back and meet me.
I glanced around again. The empty cradle of the portable phone caught my eye. Where was the receiver? I checked around the table, under the sofa and under the chairs. I lifted every large and small piece of paper.
Then I headed into the bedroom. The ornate four-poster bedstead was made up with an antique quilt with a dog-sized indentation in the middle and about a gazillion pillows. Karen Smith liked being surrounded by stuff, I could tell that. Dozens of bright scarves hung from the closet door. Purses were arranged like art on the walls. Shoes were parked in tumbled pairs around the perimeter of the room.
Receiver, receiver. Where was the receiver? It wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, so the bedroom was the best bet.
The pooch came along and leapt up onto the bed and into the dent. I bent down and peered under the bed. No receiver there. As I backed away, I tripped over a pair of shoes discarded in the middle of the rug and barely kept from landing in a heap. How had I missed those? And what were they doing there? Had Karen decided to change in a hurry? Why? Someone must have contacted her. But who?
As I twirled around, surrounded by so many distractions, I thought I heard a noise outside. What was it? Oh no. Not a siren. Yes. A whoop and the slam of a door. I peered through the ruffled curtains on the window. Cops all right. I was toast. I watched as two officers marched up to the front door of the shop. It was then that I spotted the receiver on the window ledge and picked it up.
I suppose it was instinct. After all, I had been raised to be no friend of the law. “Come on, Walter,” I said. “Time for a walk.”
I hoped I had enough time to make it before the cops came around the back of the building. I tucked the receiver into my shoulder bag and pounded down the stairs with the dog on my heels. We both scampered out the door and into the yard. My heart was thundering, and I imagined the neighbors could hear my heavy breathing. The fence kept the dog in, and as climbing it to flee would be a clear admission of guilt, it was keeping me in too. I had just enough time to pull my lock picks out of my shoulder bag and slide them under a large ornamental rock in the middle of a bed of peonies. Just in case. It is always wise not to be found with breaking-and-entering tools in one’s possession. I tucked the receiver there too, as it was nothing if not incriminating. I picked up a Frisbee I’d spotted in the grass and tossed it to the waddling Walter. He caught it in midair and raced around dropping it at the other end. I had just retrieved it and tossed it again when the cops called out to me.
“Oh hello,” I said innocently.
“Ma’am,” one of them said.
“Officer,” I answered.
He cleared his throat. He looked even younger than I was.
“We got a report of a break-in at this address, ma’am.”
“A break-in?” I said, wide-eyed. “Really? When?”
“Now, ma’am.”
The cop stepped toward me, and Walter panted at him, with attitude, his hackles raised.
I bent down and said to the dog, “It’s okay. Friends.”
Walter seemed to accept that. If I said they were friends, that was good enough for him. I guessed he didn’t see through my lie.
I straightened up and said, “Now? But I was in Karen’s apartment and I didn’t see any sign of a break-in.”
As there was no threat from the cops, Walter barked to have the Frisbee tossed to him again and I complied.
“The person matched your description, ma’am.”
“What?”
“Woman. Twenties. About five six. Dark hair. Wearing jeans and pink shoes.”
“That’s a weird coincidence,” I said.
The first officer stroked his chin speculatively. The other one gave me a dirty look.
“Well, don’t you think?” I said.
Walter returned with the Frisbee and dropped it at my feet. snorting bossily.
The first officer said, “No, ma’am. I don’t think it is a coincidence.”
The other one said, “Is this your residence, ma’am?”
“No. It’s my friend’s.”
“And your friend’s name?”
“Karen. Karen Smith.”
“And where is Karen Smith, ma’am?”
“I don’t know.”
More chin stroking.
“But…”
“I came by to see her and I could hear Walter here in distress and I thought I’d take him out. Sometimes Karen gets tied up in business things and doesn’t get back. It’s really hard on Walter. And it must drive the neighbors crazy. I could hear him when I got out of my car.”
I could tell they wanted to believe this, but I know their training tells them to be skeptical.
“Do you have a key, ma’am?”
“I don’t.”
“Then how did you get in?”
“Sorry?”
“How did you get in without a key?” A bit of edge in his voice this time.
I smiled as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “Didn’t need one. The door was open.”
“Open?”
“Yes. Karen must have forgotten to lock it. She’s a bit…absentminded sometimes.”
The first cop said, “Your car, ma’am.”
“Yes?”
“Where did you park it?”
“Ah. Yes, it’s around the corner and down a bit.”
They exchanged glances. I should have had a sensible reason for parking the car there, but I’d not been prepared for that issue. Be Prepared 101 and I’d flubbed it.
I said, “The last time I parked here a bunch of kids were skateboarding on the street. I drive a vintage Saab. It’s in mint condition, and I don’t want anything to happen to it. It was my mom’s.”
Their eyes flicked to each other. That could have been true. But the whole thing probably seemed off to them, which of course it was. By now I was kicking myself for having picked the lock and weaving this web of lies. How many times had I had it drilled into me? Don’t lie too much, you’ll always get caught up in it. Stick as close to the truth as you can.
“You have ID, ma’am?”
I felt my mouth go dry. I hoped that my words were clear. Clear and unconcerned. “Of course.” I reached for my shoulder bag and fished out my driver’s license. “Here you go. But I think if you get in touch with Karen, she’ll tell you that she often asks me to walk the dog. She’ll be in soon I’m sure. She had a big show on this weekend.”
“Is this your current address?”
“No. I’ve just moved back to Harrison Falls. I work for Miss Van Alst.”
One of the officers said, “I’m sorry to tell you this, but your friend Karen Smith is in the hospital. She’s been attacked.”
I gasped.
The other officer moved to check the door. He turned back to me. “This door wasn’t left unlocked. The lock’s been picked.”
I said, “Picked? But who could…?”
They both turned and looked at me.
I let out a little whimper. I felt quite proud. “What if he’s still up there?” I swayed a little bit for dramatic effect. “I could have been killed!”
They exchanged glances, and I figured the jig was up.
“Oh, here you are,” an unexpected voice said.
The three of us whirled. I don’t know which of the three of us was the most surprised to see Officer Smiley. Walter was delighted. Instead of barking, he jumped for joy and ran in circles wagging his ridiculous tail. Officer Smiley scratched his ears.
“Oh, it’s you,” I said. Had he been sent to pick me up? Drag me to the slammer? I’d been right all along. The policeman is not our friend, children.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” he said with a dazzling smile at me. He might be pudgy and cute, but some orthodontist had done an excellent job on his pearly whites, except for the chipped incisor.
I said, “Don’t worry about it.”
He said to me, “I got caught up with a shoplifting incident. Guy’s going down for a couple of rib eye steaks.”
“Shocking,” I said.
“I didn’t even have time to change. I didn’t want you waiting, so I hope you don’t mind a detour before we go out.” He shrugged cutely.
“No problem for me.”
He nodded at his two colleagues. These guys didn’t even live in the same jurisdiction. Did all cops know each other? If so, that was very creepy. “So, what’s going on, guys?”
The first one said, “Reported break-in. Lock was picked.”
The second one said, “She’d been inside. Seems to have apprehended the family dog.”
I said, “Apprehended? We call that ‘walked the dog’ where I come from. Walter was upset and—”
Officer Smiley said, “But I’m sure Karen would have asked Jordan to take, um, Walter out.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I knew this would get straightened out. Glad you finally got here.”
“You know her?” the first officer said to Smiley.
“Of course. We see each other all the time,” Smiley said, smilingly. “Since I moved to Harrison Falls and she moved back.”
“Okay then. Guess the neighbor overreacted.”
I said, “Probably driven to the brink of madness by Walter’s sounds of distress. Really, Karen shouldn’t keep him cooped up in that small apartment.”
Officer Smiley turned to me. “So, you ready to go?”
“More than. But I’d like to take Walter for a proper walk. I hate to put him back upstairs. And Karen’s lock has been picked. What if whoever did that is still up there?” I turned to the two cops. “Are you going to check out the apartment? And you really should take a look at the shop too.”
Reluctantly, they headed into the building, leaving me standing there with Smiley and Walter. Walter shook the Frisbee. Smiley said, “You in a little hot water here?”
“Not anymore. I’m glad you showed up. They got it into their pointy little heads that I burgled Karen’s apartment.”
“Do you think anything was taken?”
“Hard to tell, really. She’s a bit of a pack rat, and there’s stuff everywhere. Stacks of books and sweet little collectibles. Nice stuff, but it’s hard to tell if there was even more stuff earlier, if you know what I mean.”
“Hmm.”
“I suppose we should wait to see what they find. I’d really like to go, but I don’t want to leave Walter here alone. Karen’s—” Lucky I caught myself in time. Smiles or no smiles, he didn’t need to know that I’d been in to see her. “What is happening with Karen? Do you know?”
“She’s out of intensive care, but not out of the woods yet.”
“I can’t leave this dog in there. It’s cruel. I think Karen worked out of her house and shop and he’s not used to being alone.”
“I suppose not.”
“But I don’t think I can bring him to my place. I live in a house that’s ruled by a bipolar cat that can walk through walls. I don’t think he’d be safe.”
He scrunched up his face, something he does when he’s thinking. I don’t imagine he’d ever win a poker game. “Bipolar cat? That sounds bad.”
The two cops took that moment to emerge. One shook his head in disbelief. “If anyone got in there, looks like he brought stuff in instead of taking things out.”
The other one said, “Looks like the only thing missing is the receiver to the phone.”
I managed to keep my expression neutral. “The receiver?” With my luck someone would pick that exact moment to call Karen and the stupid thing would ring from under the rock. I’d lose my lock picks.
He said, “Yeah. Although it’s probably in there somewhere.”
They ambled off, exhibiting those cop walks I am so not fond of, leaving me with my new best friend, Officer Tyler “Smiley” Dekker. And also leaving me to wonder exactly why he’d showed up at Karen’s house while I was there. I imagined Tiff asking, Have you seen Officer Stalker today?
Was it a coincidence? How could it be? Karen’s place was in Grandville, ten to twenty minutes from Harrison Falls. Neither his jurisdiction, nor his business really. He’d been prepared to lie to his Grandville colleagues, and he’d done a surprisingly good job of it. They’d gone away thinking that somehow Officer Smiley and I had met on schedule. Huh. My brain formulated three explanations: (a) he’d known I was going to be there; (b) he’d followed me; and (c) he had some reason for wanting to get into Karen’s business or apartment. I wasn’t crazy about any of these. I wasn’t even sure that I’d trust him with Walter.
I said, “I know someone who’d be happy to give Walter a place to stay until Karen’s out of danger and home again. No cat. Home all day. No problemo.”
I could tell he was relieved. We headed along the side walkway to the street to give Walter a bit of a waddle with me thinking fast. He hadn’t been in the building, and he wasn’t showing any interest in it. Unless, of course, he’d already been through the place. Walter had seemed quite comfortable when Smiley arrived. Had they met before, say when Smiley was going through the apartment? The door had been locked when I arrived, but what if he had Karen’s keys? He could have picked them up when we were waiting for the emergency team. I’d been so distressed I wouldn’t have noticed. All this was entirely possible and, really, no more unlikely than anything else that had happened in the past day or so.
Now I needed to know how to get rid of him so that I could get back to the yard and retrieve my lock-picking tools and Karen’s receiver from under the rock without an audience of cops. But what if he followed me?
I stopped. “We can’t leave the door like that.” I was really surprised those two cops would just leave. Of course, Grandville was the kind of town where folks probably didn’t even make a habit of locking their doors, possibly laboring under the delusion that the police might be looking out for them.
He shrugged. “It’s the homeowner’s responsibility.”
“The homeowner, who is in the hospital probably not even conscious? That homeowner?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“We need to do it. And yes, I realize that the person who picked the lock could come back and pick the new one, but…”
“We don’t have the right.”
“Okay. I hear you. I’ll do it. As her friend. I’ll do it and I’ll take responsibility for it and I’ll pay for it and I’ll make sure that the keys are taken to her in the hospital. It’s the right thing to do.”
“But I don’t know if I can let you do it.”
This was really starting to irk me. “Really? Well, let me point out, Officer Dekker, that this is not your jurisdiction and you have already told a double whopper to your colleagues about meeting me here, so you can bend a little more. Now, how about you go take Walter for a bit of exercise and I’ll call a locksmith and you won’t know anything about it.”
It all came out huffier than I had planned, but my tone went unnoticed.
“Good thinking. But there’s no phone.”
“I’ll use my cell. You don’t have to be a witness to that. And I’ll find a bag and clean up after our friend here.”
As they strolled off, I used my iPhone to locate a locksmith and made a quick call. I glanced around. What kind of nosy neighbors were there? I guessed no one had spotted me hiding the lock-picking tools under the rock, but in case someone had resumed their watch, I used the guise of picking up after Walter and managed to snag the tools and the receiver and tuck them below the waistband of my jeans. I held my bag in front of me to hide the lumps.
Five minutes later Officer Smiley was back with Walter. I said, “We’re good. I’ll wait here for the locksmith. No need for you to hang around.”
But of course, he did. I wondered what the neighbors had thought about the so-called burglar hanging around with the persnickety Pug, who had just been walked by the uniformed police officer. Now that would be a dinnertime story.
When the locksmith arrived, Smiley was keen to observe. I had to use Walter a second time. I suggested that Walter was really behind on his walks and should have another outing. I hoped to distract nosy Tyler Dekker long enough to get the locksmith to make an extra key. By the time Smiley and Walter sauntered back, I already had my copy in my pocket. And Officer Smiley promised to see that the official newly minted key got to Karen right away.
“I can do it,” I said, sweetly.
“Better if I do. I am a sworn officer of the law.”
“I’ll go with you.” I didn’t say, “Because I don’t trust you.”
I TOOK THE blanket that I always kept in my trunk and spread it over the passenger seat of the Saab. I couldn’t believe I was letting a dog into my precious vehicle. I felt a bit like Vera might have if Walter had been lurching through her library knocking first editions off shelves and chewing on the rosewood table legs. I hoped my elegant mother wasn’t rolling in her grave, wherever that might have been.
It was cool enough in the covered parking area to leave Walter in the vehicle (as Officer Smiley called it).
When we reached the fifth floor, we discovered that Karen was now in an induced coma to allow the swelling in her brain to subside. And I’d thought I was having a bad day. I reminded myself of just how bad things were for Karen and how much worse they’d turned out for Alex Fine.
Officer Smiley turned on the wattage for the staff at the nurses’ station and arrangements were made to take care of the keys. He made sure Karen would be given numbers to reach him and me when she was conscious again. Luckily, no one remembered me as her visiting niece.
After that, I decided it really was time to give him the slip. Whatever reason he had for sticking so close, it wasn’t my problem. I had places to go and things to do. Starting with dropping Walter off with Uncle Mick. That would also give me a chance to return the lock-picking tools without arousing any suspicion in whomever was following me, and I was pretty sure that would be Officer You-Know-Who.