Seven

Shivering, even with Reed’s arm around my shoulders, I sat there and watched the end of the report, which didn’t continue much longer. Silas didn’t say how Henry had died. A heart attack?

A homicide?

Sure, the latter was the direction my mind went since I’d dealt with so many murders lately, like it or not. But even if his death was due to natural causes, it still would have made the news considering who the guy was in Knobcone Heights. Either way, I felt sorry for him.

And for his dogs? Where were they now? What was going to happen to them?

“It might just be natural causes.” Reed echoed my thoughts.

“It might,” I agreed.

“But you don’t believe it.”

“Not till I hear what the coroner says. And that’ll show up eventually on the news. But—” I glanced again at the TV, where a commercial for life insurance was running, and shook my head.

“Do you want to watch any more or leave for your shops?” Reed asked gently. His arm tightened, and I briefly put my head on his shoulder.

“What I want is not to have heard this. For it not to have happened, no matter how. But you know I need to go to my shops.”

“I figured. Hugo and I will go back to our place. It’ll be a while till I need to get to the clinic. And before you ask, yes, I’ll watch the news a bit before I leave, and I’ll call you if there’s any more information.”

“Thanks.” I turned off the TV, feeling as if I wanted to punch it instead. But it would do no good to kill the electronic messenger.

I locked the house behind us after Reed, the dogs, and I entered the garage, then opened the garage door. Reed’s car was right there in the driveway. Before he headed toward it, he took me into his arms again. “Just think,” he said, “this could turn out to be another murder for you to solve.”

“I hope not,” I said quickly. “And aren’t you going to tell me not to get involved if it is a murder?”

“How many ways have I tried that, and not been successful at getting you to back off?”

My laugh held no humor. “Well, at least last time my nosiness helped to prove your innocence.”

“Yes, and I’m still grateful.” We shared a hot but quick kiss. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch today,” he said.

“I’m sure,” I acknowledged. “I have a shift at the clinic this afternoon, so we’ll at least see each other then.”

He bent to give me another kiss, then walked off with Hugo toward his car while I fastened Biscuit in the backseat of mine.

I flipped from one radio station to another as I drove the short distance to my shops but didn’t hear any news, maybe because it was only around 5:50 in the morning. Biscuit and I stayed in the car a few extra minutes so I could listen on the half hour—and sure enough, one of the local stations had news on.

The lead story was about the death of the husband of the former mayor. Which was definitely news.

And it was news to me when the low-voiced female announcer said, “Police suspect that Schulzer’s death was a homicide. An investigation has begun.” She then went on to the next story.

Or maybe this wasn’t completely unexpected information. Henry had shown no indication of poor health yesterday. But he had shown a tendency to infuriate a lot of people.

Including me.

Would I be a suspect again this time? Surely the two local police detectives, who had each become an odd sort of buddy to me, wouldn’t go that direction. After all, what motive could I have?

No, the direction they were more likely to go, I hoped, was an investigation into Mike Holpurn or the men who’d been with him. The fact that Holpurn had been paroled didn’t mean he was innocent, as he claimed, in the mayor’s murder years ago—let alone in the apparent murder last night of the mayor’s husband. And Holpurn’s friends—supporters—brothers? They could be guilty instead. Or as well.

And … uh-oh. My mind was now heading in the direction I’d been avoiding. There could be plenty of people who also hated Henry.

But I’d just reached the shops, so I quickly parked my car. I got Biscuit out of the backseat and, after locking the vehicle, walked my dog on her leash to the front of the building. I used my key to unlock the Barkery’s front door and we went inside. I relocked the door behind us and let Biscuit off her leash.

As I turned to go into the kitchen, my phone rang and I pulled it out of my pocket.

It was Dinah.

She was due to come in today, as she was most days, but not for another hour. I answered as cheerfully as I could. “Good morning, Dinah.”

“Good morning.” She stumbled over the words. “Are you at the shops?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Me too.” There was a sudden knocking on the glass of the Barkery’s front door. Sure enough, there she was.

I unlocked the door again and let her in, then once more relocked it, this time behind her. Her round face was pasty and her blue eyes huge beneath her messy brown hair as she looked at me. Her voice continued to rasp as she said, “Carrie, did you hear … did you hear about Henry Schulzer?”

“I did,” I said. The possibility of Dinah being his killer had of course leaped into my mind, but I’d been thrusting it out—as well as I could. I didn’t want to ask her.

She addressed the topic anyway, saying what I hoped she would. What I hoped was true.

“He and I argued, Carrie,” she said. “You know that. So do a lot of other people who heard us. It wasn’t much of an argument, but the timing, now … And he argued with other people, too. But—” She hung her head, and I hugged her as she finished with a sob. “I didn’t like him, Carrie. But I didn’t kill him. Honest.”

Dinah had cried for a while, and I’d held her, knowing only too well how it felt to be a murder suspect. But so far we didn’t have any details—not just about how Henry had died, but also about who the police were looking into as possible suspects. Dinah might be completely off the hook, depending on whatever evidence the police had found.

Or not.

Even my little Biscuit had shown her sympathy to my wonderful and upset assistant, jumping on Dinah’s legs while we were still in the Barkery and rubbing her head against them.

Yet I couldn’t help wondering—was Dinah’s extreme reaction the result of feeling guilty …

No. Dinah researched bad stuff, sure. But actually doing any of it? I’d need to see some real evidence of that, not just her usual desire to discover the truth for her plotting or writing.

When Dinah had calmed a little, she leaned on the counter near the glass display case and said, “Sorry, Carrie. I guess the way I’m acting is because … well, I made notes when I got home, mostly in the adorable notebook Arvie gave me. And as always, I let my imagination take control, so I also came up with some scenarios—all fiction, of course—that could result from our conversations with those guys yesterday, including Henry.”

“Scenarios in which he was murdered?” I had to ask.

I knew the answer even before Dinah whispered, “Yes.”

“And where is that notebook?” I figured that if the detectives considered her a possible suspect, they’d visit her home and look for evidence there.

“In my desk. If anyone sees it, they’ll read the scenarios—including one in which Henry killed his wife, and that guy Mike Holpurn resented how he’d been in prison and therefore killed Henry now. And one in which Henry killed Holpurn instead. And one where those men with Holpurn were the ones who’d killed the mayor way back when. Or—”

“I get it,” I said. And hopefully there was enough speculation and variety in Dinah’s scenarios that no one would assume she was guilty of what had actually occurred.

Leaving Biscuit loose in the Barkery, we came into the kitchen and washed our hands well, and both of us started baking—me on the Barkery side and Dinah on the Icing side.

We talked mostly about general and innocent stuff—although my mind kept leaping back to the situation playing out in Knobcone Heights that might somehow involve the birthday party I’d thrown for Dinah last night. Her eyes sometimes glazed over as she kneaded dough, too, and I figured her mind was doing something similar to mine.

But the time seemed to pass quickly, as it always did when I worked hard to ensure we had enough baked goods for both shops to start the day. Soon it was nearly seven o’clock, our opening time.

The kitchen was filled with mixed aromas of sweet human treats for Icing and the more tart, meaty aromas of doggy treats for the Barkery. Sheets of both kinds of goodies had been fully baked and were out on the appropriate counters cooling. It was time to place them on plates and get them into the display cases.

I headed into the Barkery first, with a couple of plates, sending Dinah to the door that led into Icing. Biscuit was sitting near the front door of the Barkery, looking out and wagging her tail.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Detective Wayne Crunoll standing outside. He’d kind of gotten into the habit of this when I was a murder suspect, and he hadn’t changed his habit while investigating subsequent murders. He didn’t have his dachshunds, whom he claimed were his wife’s, with him today, so he probably wasn’t going to use buying treats for Blade and Magnum as an excuse for coming to my shops.

Maybe he’ll just ask my opinion of what happened, I thought as I headed to the door to let him in. After all, my amateur sleuthing, intentional or not, had helped Wayne and his partner, Detective Bridget Morana, solve several murders recently, and they even asked my opinion now and then—sort of.

Well, I’d let Wayne lead this conversation. And if I had to, I’d make it clear I was innocent of anything bad that had happened … and I’d attempt to protect Dinah, too.

The detective didn’t wait for an invitation to come in when I opened the door. “Hi, Carrie,” he said as he slipped by me. Biscuit was still loose inside the shop and hurried over to say hi, standing on her hind legs and wriggling against him. He bent to pet her.

Leaving the door unlocked, since it was nearly opening time, I strode up to Wayne.

As usual, he wore a white shirt and dark gray pants. The dark facial shadow that matched his short, straight hair seemed a little more visible than usual this morning, shadowing his round face. His light brown eyes locked on mine. “So, Carrie—” he began.

“So you want my take on who murdered Henry Schulzer,” I said in a casual tone. “It’s a bit early, so I haven’t figured it out for certain yet. Who do you think did it?”

Not Dinah, I hoped. Or me.

He just laughed. “You know how it works. Even if we have suspects, we can’t talk to the public about it. And you’re a member of the public, not the Knobcone Heights PD, no matter how many murders you’ve helped to solve.” He grew more serious. “I did come here to find out if you’d heard about the murder. And, yes, it’s a homicide.”

“Right.” I maneuvered around him to pick up Biscuit and deposit her gently into her high-sided pen at one side of the room. I didn’t want her loose when customers began opening the door and coming in. I gathered my thoughts quickly—then decided to ask the most obvious question. “So why did you really come here this morning, Wayne?” I wanted to keep the situation as informal as I could, so I called him by his first name.

“Because I know you’re already involved.” His grin toward me was more than ironic. It seemed both amused and irritated.

“What do you mean?” As if I didn’t know. But I wanted the detective’s take on it before I admitted to being involved. Or getting more involved.

He shook his head slowly, again as if amused. “Come here, Carrie. Let’s talk.” He gestured me over and sat at one of the small tables in my Barkery. I crossed the blue tile floor with its brown dog bone decoration at the center.

“I don’t have much time,” I said, obeying him. I was glad Dinah was in Icing. I decided to tell her anything Wayne told me that she would need to know.

“Right. So here’s the thing.” Wayne spoke quickly as he explained that Henry had been found partly thanks to his dogs barking in the middle of the night.

I of course had to interrupt him. “Are the dogs okay? Where are they now?”

“We learned about the dog walker he’d hired when we got to the hotel, but for now we’ve taken them to Mountaintop Rescue. Council­woman Matlock has been notified and she’s agreed not to adopt out those dogs, at least not until we have a better sense of Mr. Schulzer’s current family situation. If a relative wants to take in his dogs, that might be the best situation for them.”

“Agreed,” I said, hoping it would be. But I would still look into it. Plus, I’d certainly visit the spaniels at Mountaintop Rescue and talk to Billi about them. “Sorry, I interrupted. Please continue.”

He did. Not surprisingly, he had heard about the altercation in the restaurant the previous night involving Schulzer, Mike Holpurn, Holpurn’s comrades—brothers?—and me. And birthday girl Dinah. “As you know, we’ll need to talk to everyone who was there, and I gather that includes not only you but your shop assistants.”

At least he hadn’t jumped on Dinah right away. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t being viewed as more than a birthday celebrant.

“And your brother,” Wayne added. His expression had grown a bit more detached, a bit more professional—until he said that. He was teasing me, and yet not teasing me. Neal might not have been at the top of whatever suspect list they were developing, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t on it. Like me. “And his lady friend Janelle, yet again. Oh, and I heard your main squeeze, Dr. Reed Storme, was there, too.” He knew of my relationship with Reed, of course, because of how I’d helped clear Reed during the last local murder.

“That’s right,” I replied. I needed to be as cooperative as possible and make sure my assistants—as well as Neal and Reed—were as well. I would protect them all, of course. Help clear them, assuming they all were innocent. And of that group, Dinah was the only one who I had any doubts about—given how Henry Schulzer had threatened to destroy her career as a writer. But it was only a mere smidgen of suspicion.

“Okay, here’s the drill, and I’m sure you won’t be surprised,” Wayne continued. “If you cooperate, as you usually do”—this was kind, and not always true, but I wasn’t going to object—“then things should go faster and easier for all of us.”

He proceeded to tell me that the Knobcone Heights PD wanted to question everyone individually down at the station. He’d let me help set up a schedule that shouldn’t be too bad for my schedule at the shops or otherwise, as long as each of the people involved cooperated and made themselves available at times that also worked for Wayne and his partner, Bridget, and whoever else they might pull into the interviews—otherwise known as interrogations.

But at least, if we all cooperated, it sounded as if the cops would make things as easy on us as possible, at least if or until they zeroed in on one or more of us.

Which I hoped didn’t happen.

“Sounds good,” I said.

“Great. I’ll email you a little later with times that will work best for us, as well as the order in which we’d prefer talking to people.”

“Fine.” I rose, too, as Wayne stood.

“And now,” he said, “I’m ready to buy a few treats for Blade and Magnum.”

“Glad to hear that.” I pondered quickly whether I should just give him some treats for his dogs—not as a bribe, but to keep up the currently good relationship between us. I made an internal compromise. As he picked out a couple favorites, some with carob and some with liver, I added a few extra biscuits to each bag and made sure he was aware of it.

Wayne paid and was ready to go. He was even standing at the door—and that was when Dinah walked in from Icing.

“Oh,” she said, her voice cracking a little. “Hello, Detective.”

“Hello, Dinah.” Wayne and my assistant already knew each other a little, partly because of Dinah’s never-ending research. “Carrie’s going to get you set up for an interview with us.” He was grinning, but there was a hint of suspicion in his gaze.

Drat. They might already have Dinah at or near the top of their suspect list.

“Really? Because of the death of Mr. Schulzer?” Her tone was stronger now. I hoped that was a good thing.

“That’s right. We know about your birthday party and what happened. Just want to be clear on who said what and all.”

“Got it.” And then Dinah aimed a great, big, pleased smile at him. “But don’t be surprised if I ask you some questions, too.”