Thirteen

“I feel kind of guilty for wanting to go back at all.” John paused and waved his hand slightly. “Not guilty like I had anything to do with Gustav’s murder.” His eyes grew wide. “They always say the criminal returns to the scene of the crime!”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I hardly slept last night. I couldn’t get Gustav out of my head. I just saw his face over and over again. The way he was laying there, and the mark on his neck.”

I had to break it to him. He was already so agitated that I hoped John could take the news. I spoke in a low tone so no one else would hear. “He’s not Gustav. The real Gustav Vogel showed up this morning.”

“What? But he had that letter. How did he get a letter that was written to Gustav?”

“Good question. Gustav was mugged on his way here. Maybe the victim was Gustav’s mugger?” I wondered if I should call Dave to tell him about that possibility, but decided it was too obvious. Dave would have already considered that.

John sat back in his chair. “This blows my mind. But I still want to see it in daylight. Will you go with me?”

I had to admit that I was a little bit curious, too. “Don’t be disappointed if it’s roped off.”

“I guess that’s to be expected. So, who is the victim? Do they know?”

I told John about the man recognizing Macon.

On the way out, I let Mr. Huckle know where I was going in case Oma needed me. “I have my cell phone.” Though I knew that wouldn’t do much good.

Although we issued an invitation to join us, Gingersnap declined. That didn’t surprise me because there wasn’t a single empty rocking chair on the porch. She knew where she would get the most attention.

Dave was allowing Cooper to run off leash, which made me feel sorry for Huey. He turned those heart-melting brown eyes toward me, and I reluctantly unsnapped his leash. After all, he still wore his Sugar Maple Inn GPS collar.

The crowds thinned as we walked toward the road on the east side of Wagtail. Once again, it was quiet. Not surprising since most cars parked outside of Wagtail.

We crossed the street, and as we walked deeper into the Shire, John exclaimed over the quaint architecture. “It’s like a country village. I couldn’t see all the flowers and blooming bushes last night. But the houses look small.”

“They are. No mansions allowed in the shire.”

We turned off onto the trail that led down to the river and the location where we had discovered the body. In daylight, it didn’t look one bit sinister. Bright yellow buttercups waved in a soft breeze, and hundreds of big, orange clusters of butterfly weeds dotted the green grass.

“There’s no tape keeping us out,” John whispered.

“It wouldn’t have been difficult to drive in a few stakes and swing it around that tree.”

“Must mean they’re confident that they got everything. Where do you think he was?”

“From the way all three dogs are sniffing right there, I’d bet that’s where he was lying.”

John sucked in air and let it out slowly. “This is really awful of me, but I feel like it never happened. I thought it might be hard to come out here, but the sun is shining, and the flowers are blooming, I’m with a really pretty girl, and I’m not feeling shock at all.”

A couple holding hands passed us on their way back from the river with their two dogs.

We nodded in greeting. “I understand what you mean. Something sinister and vile took place right here. But today, life goes on like nothing ever happened. If we hadn’t seen him, we might never have known about it.”

“I’m glad you understand. I was afraid it was just me. There’s something very sad about the fact that people who walk by here will never have any idea of the horror that took place in this spot.”

We took a stroll down to the river, where Cooper and Huey jumped in for a swim. Trixie declined and barked at them from the safety of the riverbank.

John grabbed two sticks and threw them for Cooper and Huey to fetch in the water. “Trixie didn’t even watch. Doesn’t she fetch?”

I told him the story of finding her. “She was a sad mess. She likes toys, but I guess she never learned to fetch as a puppy.”

John sat down on the big, flat rock beside me. “You know what I did last night?”

I looked at him.

“It was too late to call anyone, so I e-mailed my parents and told them I would check in with them every day. If I didn’t, they should come looking for me.”

“Don’t they know where you are?” I asked.

“Not really. Now that everyone has cell phones and e-mail, you can stay in touch without knowing a physical location. I had simply said I was writing in a cabin in the mountains. Finding a corpse really shook me up. That could have been me! Even worse, nobody knows who the guy is. It could be days or weeks until somebody notices that he never came home. I wonder if he told anyone he was coming here. He might end up being labeled a John Doe. One of those faces you see on the Internet with the word Missing in huge letters.”

“I would have looked for you.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. You would have assumed that I’d left town. You wouldn’t have given me another thought.”

“I would have thought about you, but you’re probably right about me believing that you had left town. Poor Cooper! He would have been all alone.”

Cooper and Huey bounded up to the rock and shook like crazy, splashing both of us with droplets of water and breaking the gloomy feeling that hung over us.

“How about some ice cream?” asked John.

We headed back, skirting the spot where we thought the body had been.

Huey stayed with us and joined in the fun, romping with the other dogs when we reached the ice cream social.

We loaded up our bowls with chocolate, peppermint, and sea salt–caramel ice creams and drizzled them with butterscotch. That was enough for me, but John sprinkled his with chopped peanut butter cups. I handed John my bowl and fixed three bowls of peanut butter ice cream made especially for dogs.

We settled on a bench near the big gazebo and dug into our rapidly melting, sinfully delicious treats. Huey and Cooper finished theirs first. Trixie nosed her bowl under the bench, where it would be harder for the big dogs to steal her ice cream.

Macon Stotts spied us and toddled over. “You can’t imagine where I’ve been. At the morgue! There’s something I never thought I would do in my life. They took me in to see if I recognized the man who died.”

“And did you?” I licked butterscotch off my spoon.

“I did! And I’m not one bit sorry he’s dead. Isn’t that just awful of me? I wish I had never seen the man dead, but I can’t say I’m sorry he’s gone.”

“Who is he?” John stopped eating.

“Randall Donovan. A highly disreputable psychiatrist prone to writing hogwash and pretending like it’s fact.”

So they had known each other. As casually as I could, I asked, “Was he one of your matchmaking customers?”

“Good Lord, no! I wouldn’t dream of matching some innocent unsuspecting person with a crosspatch cynic like Randall.”

“I get the feeling you didn’t like him,” joked John.

“I certainly will not miss him. I guess he ran his mouth one too many times. He must have really ticked somebody off this time. His vile nature finally caught up with him.” Macon dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. “It was a good thing he was dead. He’d have croaked for sure at the thought that I might be the one identifying his remains. Oh my! He was a prophet of doom intent on sucking the joy out of everyone’s lives. Seriously, if there were no love and no appreciation of the pleasures in life”—he bent to stroke Trixie’s head—“then the world would be gray and without laughter. Except perhaps for his contemptuous cackle.”

I didn’t know Randall, but from what I had seen, Macon described him well.

“Where’s Huey?” asked John.