Lia restrained Gypsy in the Moby wrap while Peter knelt to unhook Chewy and Viola inside the dog park corral. The dogs shot through the gate, Chewy on his daily perimeter patrol, Viola to their usual table for pets.
Peter grumbled. “I hate doing this.”
“It will be fine.”
“Famous last words.”
“You have a better option?”
Peter sighed. “No.”
“Then buck up, buttercup.”
He placed a hand on the small of Lia’s back, escorting her into the park. “Thank you for your support.”
Bailey and José waved from the table. Viola simpered at Steve and Terry, wagging her tail as she begged for treats. Lia extracted Gypsy from her papoose, placing her next to Kita’s reclining bulk on the table. Gypsy’s head swiveled, overwhelmed by reaching hands. She curled into Kita’s side. Kita grunted.
“Hail,” Terry said. “What brings our esteemed detective here on a weekday?”
Peter sat by Terry, clasping his hands in a position that was almost prayerful. “I could use a favor. A friend of Andrew Heenan’s is in town. She wants to see the tree. Can you take her?”
Terry scratched his beard. “Is she attractive?”
Bailey grabbed Terry’s camo cap, smacking his head with it.
Terry winced. “Ah, anything to help a damsel in distress. We can go tomorrow if she wants.”
Peter gave Terry a direct look. “She doesn’t want attention. I’m trusting you not to tell anyone. ”
“Moi? Discretion is my middle name.”
“That means no poking her for information,” Steve said.
Terry muttered to himself, the words “no respect” audible to everyone at the table.
Lia sat, coaxing, “She’s taking charge of his remains. You’ll have the entire trip to make your case for Smaug. Just be sensitive. Don’t make Peter regret asking you.”
Terry’s face turned mulish. “I am the soul of subtlety.”
“Subtle like a freight train,” Bailey cracked.
“José,” Lia said, “remember the day you helped us with Ruth’s things?”
“You kidding? I still have nightmares.”
“Sorry about that. Alma said Ruth had a complete set of yearbooks. Did anyone get to them before you?”
José tapped a finger in front of Gypsy’s muzzle, trying to get her attention. “Too much going on. Bigfoot coulda made love to a unicorn and I woulda missed it.”
Terry perked up. “Are the yearbooks for your mystery lady?”
Peter opened his mouth to speak. Every phone at the table chimed. Bailey checked hers first.
“Susan posted a video. I wonder who the lucky kook is today.”
Lia patted Peter’s leg. “We might as well get it over with.”
___________
Susan’s Snippets with :X
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Jim leaned over Lia’s shoulder, rubbing his beard as he squinted at Bailey’s phone. “Who’s colon X?”
“That’s emoticon for ‘keeping my mouth shut,’” Steve said. “It’s a surprise guest.”
Susan’s face filled the tiny screen, her surroundings blocked by the floppy brim of an oversized hat. Wide-eyed, she tilted her face coyly and raised a finger to her lips.
“Shhh. I’m sitting in the lobby of Quality Inn on Mitchell Avenue.”
The screen cut to an exterior view of the hotel.
“Detective Peter Dourson, lead investigator in the 1987 death of magician Andrew Heenan, passed through these doors an hour ago.”
The growl was not a dog. It was Peter. “I’ll kill her.”
“Hush,” Bailey said. “We’re watching.”
Lia squeezed his hand.
Susan returned. “What possible reason could Detective Dourson have for spending so much time at a hotel in the middle of his investigation? Stick around and find out.”
Susan’s face faded away, replaced by Peter crossing the lobby with a small woman in dark slacks.
“Who is this attractive mystery woman? Why is Detective Dourson closeted with her in a hotel room on city time?”
___________
Peter shoved off the picnic table and stalked away, Viola trailing behind him. No way around it. He had to call Susan. He said a small prayer of thanks that he’d kept her card in his wallet, then took a minute to block his number before he punched in hers.
Susan’s voice was chipper. “Susan Sweeney.”
“You’ve gone too far.”
“Goodness, Peter, can’t you even say hello? Where are your manners?”
“I have plenty of manners. You know this because I have not reached through the phone to throttle you.”
“My, my, is that a threat?”
Peter took a deep breath.
“You need to take that video down. Now.”
“Which video? I have many.”
“Don’t play games, Susan. I don’t care about your kooks and their goofy stories, but this one has to go.”
“Don’t want your girlfriend to see what you’re up to when you’re supposed to be fighting crime? Really, Peter, that woman has to be your mother’s age.”
“That was police business and not for public consumption.”
“Says you. I know my rights. You were in a public place. I wonder what Lia will think when she sees it.”
“Lia has seen it, and she doesn’t think what you want her to think. If that video isn’t down in the next ten minutes, I will arrest you for interfering with official business. That’s ninety days. In jail.”
“You’re determined to lock me up. I wonder why.”
“Clock’s ticking.” Peter jabbed the tiny red handset and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, desperate for a sheetrock wall to ram his fist through.
As he stared into the surrounding woods, a hand touched his sleeve. Lia.
“Will you be okay?”
“Ask me after I tell Parker. Do me a favor. Refresh that video and see if it’s still online.”
“You don’t want to do it?”
“I don’t trust myself not to break the phone if she hasn’t pulled it.”
Fifty yards ahead of him, Lia opened the corral gate for Chewy. She shot Peter a worried look, adjusting Gypsy in the Moby wrap as she waited for him to catch up.
Phone to his ear, he snapped his fingers at Viola—currently sniffing who knew what—and lengthened his stride. Back at the table, José laughed. Terry’s supply of cougar jokes must be holding out.
Parker sighed audibly through Peter’s phone. “Just for the record, how did your ex-fiancée catch you on camera with Ms. Olson?”
“She wanted lunch. We left the hotel at the same time.”
“We don’t need an investigation into cops dating on the job.”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“Won’t matter. Tell me the worst. At least tell me she didn’t look like a hooker.”
“Jenny Olson dresses like a nun. The video came down inside fifteen minutes. There were two hundred and twenty-three hits the last time I refreshed my screen.”
“Could be worse. Ignoring your ex isn’t working. What can we do about her?”
“Can’t arrest her. She hasn’t broken any laws.”
“Yet. Is she a reasonable woman?”
“Not often, sir.”
“I’ll have a chat with her about boundaries. Then she does what she does. If an actual reporter calls, you were on official business and cannot comment on the nature of that business.”
“It’s nothing but the truth, sir.”
“That’s an advantage. I can’t imagine there’s any risk to Ms. Olson as a result of this exposure, but encourage her to change hotels.”
“Immediately, sir.”
“How did your interview go yesterday?”
“Ms. Olson was forthcoming and provided an avenue for investigation, but right now, I’m stuck.”
“What’s the problem?”
“We need to identify students in her drama club, but pages are missing from the relevant yearbook.”
“Are there no other copies?”
He and Lia had spent Wednesday evening unboxing Ruth’s junk in a hot, sweaty attic because Alma said Ruth had a full set. Two dozen yearbooks. None of them from 1987.
“No, sir. We tried Classmates.com, but the most recent volume they have is 1979.”
“Eight years too early.”
“Yes, sir.”