Wednesday, December 30: eight days after the murder
7:30 a.m.
Wednesday morning. The day of Virgil Proust’s funeral. I woke up to Katrina shaking me. When I opened my eyes, she loomed over me, looking very serious. Startled, I jumped up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Well, everything.” She covered her face with her hands. “I just got a call from Mick. He’s got a dog that needs help and he’s tied up with something at the station. He can’t leave. Can you call Craig for me and see if he can help?”
I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus, pressing my hand against my chest. “You scared the crap out of me. What can Craig do?”
“He can get me the address and I can go get the dog?”
I gave her a look. “Because you never want your job back?”
She sighed. “Fine. Can he at least go get the dog? Maybe you can go with him? I’ll take care of the café. He’ll just need to get the keys from Mick.”
I couldn’t say no to a dog in trouble. I reached over, grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand, and texted Craig.
Help.
He responded back nearly immediately.
What happened? Are you okay?
Come over and I’ll explain, I replied.
So you’re okay?
I’m fine but I need your help.
This better be good.
I tossed the phone on the bed. “He’s coming. Now can I please go to the bathroom?”
I barely had time to wash my face, brush my teeth, and throw some clothes on before Craig was at the door. When he saw Katrina and me standing there, he frowned.
“What’s the emergency?”
“Come on in and we’ll tell you.” I tugged his sleeve until he came inside, then handed him some coffee. He wasn’t wearing his uniform. “Are you off today?”
He nodded. “I did a double yesterday.”
“And we woke you. Sorry,” I said, wincing.
“It’s fine.” He regarded Katrina. “How are you doing?”
“Crappy,” she answered. “But you can help me feel a little better.”
We gave him a quick rundown. I could tell he wasn’t thrilled about this, but he agreed to help.
“Thank you so much,” Katrina said, giving him a hug. “Maddie will go with you and get the dog settled.”
I nodded. “You don’t have to stay. I just need to be able to get into the center.”
“Okay, let’s go.” He finished his coffee and handed me the mug. “And then you can buy me breakfast.”
He was true to his word. We picked up the keys from Sergeant Ellory—well, Craig did, I waited in the car—then picked up the dog, a poor stray black lab who was extremely friendly. After we got the dog set up in an empty kennel and gave him food and water, I left a note for the volunteers to scan him for a microchip and then we headed to the diner on Bicycle Street, where I bought Craig the breakfast he’d very much earned.
I was happy to do it and thankful he’d helped us with the dog. While we waited for our food, I told him so.
He waved me off. “No problem. How is Katrina?”
“You heard her. She’s crappy.” I sipped my orange juice. “But she told us the story about that thing in college.”
“She did?”
I nodded and gave him the abridged version, pausing only when the waitress came by with our food.
He listened to the whole thing without a word. When I was done, he ate a few more bites then said, “It sounds like an awful experience. I hope that it doesn’t come up in front of a jury.”
“Me too. God, Craig. The cops have to find out who really did this. Isn’t there someone there who you can talk to?” I stabbed my omelet in frustration.
Craig polished off his pumpkin pancake. “What is it you think I can do, Maddie? I can’t tell them how to run their investigation.” He took a sip of his coffee.
“No, but you can tell them about the other suspicious people who could’ve done this.”
“I think they know enough to check out the spouse. It’s usually the first place cops look.”
I rolled my eyes. “I watch Law and Order. I know that. But how seriously would they look at her? She’s a lifer there, she’s got money, I’m sure she’s got something on someone on the force. They probably did the bare minimum questioning and that’s it. In fact, I know that’s it. Lilah Gilmore told them about seeing Virgil having an argument with someone and they still arrested Katrina.”
Craig didn’t look impressed.
“Craig.” I leaned forward, pushing my plate aside. “His wife is nuts. She smashed his phone into pieces during a public meeting.”
Craig took the last bite of pancake and tossed his napkin over his empty plate. “But so what? Husbands and wives fight all the time. It doesn’t mean they kill each other in most cases.”
“No, but in some cases they do.”
He sighed. “Okay. You’re right. In some cases they do.”
“June is strong. She grabbed me the other day and man, she could hold on.” I rubbed my wrist just thinking about it.
His eyes narrowed at that. “Why was she grabbing you?”
“When she was accusing me and my friends of killing Virgil. The night it happened. The cops saw the whole thing.”
“You’re kidding. What did they do?”
“Finally they took her out of sight—once Ethan jumped in.” I smiled thinking about it, but he didn’t look amused.
“That’s not cool,” he said. “They should’ve done something.”
“Grieving widow and all that.” I made a face. “But seriously.” I ticked names off on my fingers. “There’s June. There’s Trey Barnes, the young guy who’s married to the old lady. Lilah said Virgil threatened to throw his friends out of the neighborhood or something. There’s Harvey Hackett, who threatened to tell June about Virgil not showing up at these meetings. Which apparently made Virgil really mad. And there’s something weird going on there—he and his wife have been really cool about the cats to our faces, but I found out he’s the one who started the whole poison petition thing. I didn’t tell Katrina,” I added hastily. “We don’t need her knowing who it was. Virgil, of all people, shot it down. And then there’s Whitney, who is really good to us and the cats, but she’s faking this leg injury. And she hates the Prousts.” I filled him in on that story too.
“Jeez.” He rubbed his temples. “All this on that fancy-pants street, huh?”
“Yep. You see what I mean? Someone needs to investigate them and all their secrets.”
“I get the feeling someone already is,” Craig said dryly.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Grandpa and I are, yes. But we could use more help. Like someone who actually has an in with the police.”
“And you think I do?”
“You’re a cop!”
“On another force. With a boss who doesn’t want to get involved.”
We had a stare-off for a few seconds, then he sighed. “Come on. I have to bring you home. I have some stuff to do.”
“Oooh, like what? Big date with Jade today?” I teased as we walked out the door.
But he looked really uncomfortable. “No. We aren’t seeing each other much anymore.” He strode ahead of me so I couldn’t see his face.
I rushed to catch up. “Oh no! Why not?” I was genuinely surprised to hear that. They’d looked so tight at Christmas. And although it was a little weird that they were dating, I really did want it to work out for them.
Craig shrugged. “Just wasn’t working out. Look, I have to go.”
“Craig.” I reached for his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He returned my gaze. “Thanks.”
At that exact moment, Lucas walked around the corner. He had a dog with him. That was a special service he offered—pick up and drop off for his grooming clients. This one was adorable. A squat little black-and-white pit bull that looked like he or she was smiling. I did love dogs—I just hadn’t thought about having one right now because, well, I had a house full of cats.
My instinct was to drop down and say hello to the dog, who had seen us and was already wagging his or her tail. But I didn’t want to look like I was encouraging conversation. Especially in front of Craig, who watched with narrowed eyes.
Then Lucas glanced up and realized we were there, and his entire face fell. For a split second. Then he replaced it with a carefully blank expression. I realized what it must look like, especially since I had been holding on to Craig’s arm when he came around the corner, and opened my mouth to explain.
Then realized I didn’t need to explain. After all, this was the guy who had vanished on me for a month without a word.
“Hey,” Lucas said, lifting his hand in a slight wave before awkwardly shoving it back in his pocket.
“Hey,” I returned, because Craig said nothing and I didn’t want to be completely rude.
Lucas tugged on the dog’s leash, but he (she?) had planted him or herself on the sidewalk, waiting for some love.
I gave in and reached down to pet the dog. The animal sniffed me, tentatively at first, then began kissing my fingers in earnest. “Cutie pie. What’s his”—I glanced up for confirmation from Lucas—“name?”
“Oliver.”
“Hi, Oliver,” I said, scratching his ears. “You’re a doll.”
I could feel Lucas watching me. I avoided his eyes as I stood up and turned to walk away.
“Maddie,” he said, but I cut him off.
“I have to go.” I followed Craig down the sidewalk. When I got a few feet I turned back. “Cute dog though.”
He didn’t reply. I could feel his eyes on me as we hurried down the street to Craig’s car.