twenty-two

Did I really care about this research project? Maybe. In particular, though, it felt good to believe that I might reach a resolution and get some answers about at least something—or someone—in the odd things going on around me.

At least I’d potentially learn which real estate company employed the bulldog-seeker Garvy Grant. Then I could tuck him, or at least thoughts of him, way back in my mind and simply be friendly but even more remote when I saw him next.

Assuming I even saw him again. Maybe his vacation was over and he had headed back down the mountains to the real properties he was familiar with and intent on selling.

Besides, in a large city like Los Angeles, he was much more likely to find an English bulldog who needed to be rescued. He could certainly find breeders there. Then he could hook up with a new canine family member. That was what people did—nice people. Good people. Was Garvy Grant among them?

Sitting on my narrow, wheeled desk chair, I booted up my laptop, the same one I used for keeping track of the accounts of both my stores.

Then I did my Google search. There were a couple of people with similar names as Garvy Grant but different spellings.

I did find a website for a Garvy Grant in real estate in Los Angeles, but there weren’t many details about transactions he’d been involved in. I didn’t stop there, though.

Interestingly, where the search engine suggested other similar names, I found that there were men named Grant Garvy—with variations on that spelling, too. Some had photos associated with them, so I could rule them out, but some did not.

One of those Grant Garvys apparently did live in Southern California.

The best I could tell from the information about him, he was a private investigator.

Was this the man who was visiting Knobcone Heights and looking for English bulldogs?

If so, why?

I stayed at the computer a while longer, looking up Grant Garvy the PI, but I didn’t find anything much about him or his background or any investigations he might have conducted. I supposed that if I was more of a techie and could dig deeper into the couple of sites where I did see his name—one was a list of licensed private investigators where you had to be a member of the organization to dig into it, and another asked you to sign up as a potential client and apparently then get bombarded by PIs looking for clients—maybe then I could find out more about him.

Till now, I’d been cordial enough to Garvy Grant—if that was his actual name. I’d seen him around town, often at locations that had something to do with dogs, such as at my Barkery and Knob Hill Pet Emporium, and I knew he’d been to Mountaintop Rescue.

I hadn’t been eager to get to know more about him, or to get to know him better, especially since I found his occasional attempts to flirt with me utterly off-putting.

As a result, I had no idea where he was now. Was he still in or around Knobcone Heights? If so, where was he staying?

Did it really matter? Sure, I was curious to learn if my slight bit of snooping was accurate and the guy was a detective—of a different sort, of course, than my non-buddies in the Knobcone Heights Police Department.

And if he was, why had he come here? Was his presence additional evidence that dognappers down in Los Angeles were using little Knobcone Heights as some kind of headquarters?

I shifted then to another search engine. Maybe it would have something different, another way to find out more about Garvy.

That didn’t corral the many directions my mind was taking.

I was jumping to a lot of conclusions about Garvy without any reason or evidence, or anything else but suppositions. Maybe he wasn’t either of the people I’d found through that first search engine, the Garvy Grant in real estate and the Grant Garvy who was a PI.

Even if he was, though, his interest in dogs in his own life could be genuine, a diversion as he either enjoyed a vacation here or investigated something else altogether.

On the other hand, if he did have something to do with the dogs and was trying to find out what Ada and any accomplices of hers might have done with them … well, did he know who those accomplices were? Were there more besides Tim?

Maybe he would know of a whole additional bunch of people who’d had a motive to kill Ada.

As a result of my unstoppable musings, I really wanted to find the guy and talk to him. Maybe he would help me clear Janelle of suspicion in Ada’s death.

Unless the opposite was true, and he could instead show why Janelle was the most likely killer.

If all went well, though, maybe we could collaborate. Or I could at least learn something from him. I didn’t want to be a private investigator, but P.I. skills might come in handy to help clear Janelle—I hoped.

Okay. I had spent more than enough time on the computer. I needed to get back into my shops and help my assistants wait on any customers.

And ignore what I felt certain would be floating around in my mind: How do I find Garvy Grant and talk to him now?

I spent the rest of the afternoon going back and forth between my stores waiting on shoppers. I had to calm my mind to avoid allowing distraction to prevail over good business sense and customer care.

I considered asking my two helpers on duty, Dinah and Janelle, if they happened to know where Garvy Grant was. I was sure Janelle at least knew who he was since we’d been together with Garvy around. But I’d no reason to think she knew where he was these days.

I wasn’t sure Dinah had been working the day Garvy had visited my shops, so I’d no idea whether she would even know who he was, let alone where he might be.

During a lull between customers, when things were relatively quiet, I took Biscuit and Go for a walk across the street to the town square. I’d done that before when Janelle was on duty and had brought her dog with her to the Barkery. She, in turn, sometimes brought Biscuit along when she walked Go.

I’d seen Garvy once before in the town square, so I hoped today would be the second time.

It wasn’t.

How did one find the location of an almost-stranger? I hadn’t found any specifics about him online. Even if I could locate his contact information I didn’t think I’d call him, since I didn’t want to sound as if I wanted to see him, even though I did—but for reasons of my own that someone as flirtatious as he was might misconstrue.

I could tell him I was looking for a piece of real estate, but I didn’t really want him to show me any.

I simply wanted to run into him somewhere, act surprised to see him, and ask my few questions.

Because … well, if it turned out he was Grant Garvy, Investigator, I really, really wanted to learn what he knew about the stolen dogs, and if they had anything to do with Ada’s death.

Weird on my part? Yes. But it might save me time and energy in clearing Janelle to get any insight he had.

So how could I find him subtly? Call all the hotels in the area?

That wouldn’t be subtle, even if they gave out information. And I didn’t know if he was even still in town.

Billi Matlock would most likely let me know if Garvy showed up at Mountaintop Rescue again, not because I’d asked her to, but because she might want my further input into what to say to the guy about bulldogs, or about canines who were actually available for adoption at the shelter. I decided not to contact her.

I didn’t always know when Neal was taking a group of hikers out next, but even though the rain had nearly stopped, I doubted he’d do an outing that evening. Tomorrow, maybe. I could ask him tonight if he was, and who was signed up for it.

So how else could I find the guy—or shut my own obsession down and simply forget about him?

I considered again where to look for Garvy.

The two places in town where people tended to congregate, both residents and visitors, were Cuppa-Joe’s and the Knobcone Heights Resort. I’d not seen any indication of Garvy’s presence at Cuppa’s, though he might have visited there sometime when I wasn’t around.

But one place I had seen him was the resort. Despite having eaten there last night, it wouldn’t hurt to spend part of this Tuesday evening there, especially if I had company.

I scooped up after both Go and Biscuit, glad I’d brought a couple of my usual biodegradable bags, gave them a few more minutes to sniff and squat, and then walked them both back across the street. When I had them secured in the corner of the Barkery containing Biscuit’s enclosure, I went back outside after removing my cell phone from my pocket. I stood on the sidewalk, smiling at people I recognized even when they walked by without stopping at either of my shops. Residents would come back when they needed something sweet for themselves and nutritious for their dogs. Icing and the Barkery had already developed a reputation in this town for both.

I quickly pushed the button to call Reed. I didn’t expect to reach him right away since I figured he’d be with a patient. Although it was getting late in the day for scheduled office visits, things generally tended to run overtime at the vet clinic.

To my surprise, though, he answered. “Must be ESP,” he said. “I was going to call you soon and see if Biscuit and you wanted to join Hugo and me for dinner again tonight.”

“Yep,” I said. “ESP. I wanted to find out if you two could join us at the resort this evening.”

“I was going to suggest the Arrowhead Diner, so we’re not completely on the same wavelength, but the resort works for me, too. We’ll pick you both up at your place at seven o’clock, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed with a smile—even as I continued to watch the town square across the street in the event that my target happened to appear there now, after I’d left it.

But I still didn’t see Garvy … now. I hoped I would tonight.

I’d called to warn Neal that Reed and I and our dogs would be at the resort once more that evening, though I didn’t tell him what I wanted to learn there this time. When we arrived, Neal was still busy behind the reception desk, but I waved to ensure he saw us. Then, at my request, Reed and I headed toward the bar first.

That was the place where I’d seen Garvy here previously. But when I stood at the door and let my eyes get accustomed to the low light, I didn’t see him in the crowd.

“Let’s go eat,” I told Reed.

We sat on the back patio, beneath an umbrella although the only humidity was in the air, not falling as rain or even mist. Tonight Gwen was our server, which became even more interesting when Neal pulled up a chair and joined Reed and me at our table, with Biscuit and Hugo at our feet.

Neal’s former romantic-interest-of-sorts was fully cordial, though, and brought us water quickly, followed by the wine I’d requested and the beer the guys had ordered.

Gwen might be a good one to ask whether Garvy had been at the resort. She saw everything and everyone, I figured. Did she know him? I couldn’t recall if I’d seen them in the same room together previously. Neal, of course, would know who Garvy was, and Reed, too. I didn’t see my target here at the restaurant, either inside or on the patio with us. Maybe, other than being potentially fun, tonight’s outing would be a complete bust.

But I could at least ask some hopefully subtle questions about him, and who’d seen him around last.

It didn’t turn out nearly as subtle as I’d hoped, though. Not only did Neal join us for dinner, but he had invited Janelle, too. That meant Go was also with us, which was fine. So were Delma and her Boston terrier Shobie.

That added up to five humans and four dogs at the two tables pushed together to accommodate all of us. I decided to wait until we’d all ordered and then try to find a way to subtly start asking for any information about Garvy.

Maybe I shouldn’t, though. I was being completely weird about this. What if it did turn out he was a PI? Was I going to run all my suspicions and suspects by him?

Not a good idea.

I decided, despite my rationale for coming to the restaurant tonight with this group, to just drop the whole thing.

But the subject of Ada did come up, especially when Neal mentioned that her parents had been eating there the night before and we’d chatted with them.

“Too bad they didn’t tell you who might have been after their daughter,” Janelle said to Neal, sounding dejected. “Did they give any hint?”

“No,” he said, then glanced at me.

“Unfortunately not.” I decided to act as if I was changing the subject completely. “So when’s your next evening hike around the lake, Neal?”

“Yes, I want to go next time,” Delma said. “Those hikes sound like fun.”

We talked about the recent ones then. I gently pushed the conversation into a discussion of who had joined us.

“They were mostly guests from the resort,” Neal said. “Some other visitors, too.”

“Like that real estate guy—what was his name?” I asked.

“Something like Garvy,” Neal responded.

“Oh, he came into our stores, didn’t he?” Janelle asked, and I nodded.

“If you get another hike together, maybe you could contact the hikers who came on the last two—like that Garvy,” I said. “Do you know how to contact him?”

His answer had to wait for a few minutes as Gwen and another server brought our food to the table. I’d ordered a delicious-looking Cobb salad that night. Reed got a double hamburger and immediately removed one of the beef patties to share with all the dogs.

But when we got back to the prior conversation, Neal had no information about how to contact Garvy. Apparently the guy had paid cash, which happened often since Neal didn’t charge a lot for his hikes. And no one talked about having seen him again, even though I tried to nudge the conversation once more in that direction.

Mostly what I got out of the evening was a good dinner with nice people and well-behaved dogs. I noticed how much attention Neal and Janelle were paying to one another. No matter what else was going on, their attraction appeared to be ramping up.

Afterward, since Neal indicated he was going to stay around for a while with Janelle and Delma, then take them back to their hotel room, Reed invited Biscuit and me to his home for a drink before taking us back to my place.

We each, indeed, had one more drink at his house. And engaged in some very enjoyable and personal stuff, too. Soon, though, I had to ask that he take us home because of my usual early hours the next morning.

So that was that. My evening had been wonderful, but I’d gotten no information about Garvy Grant or Grant Garvy or whoever. Maybe it was just as well. I’d do a lot better on Janelle’s behalf by going in other directions.

Maybe I could even find a reason to stop in at the police station and talk to the chief. Loretta Jonas had not been particularly excited when I’d given her the information about the possibility of stolen dogs being in the area. Maybe I could bring her treats for her rescue dog Jellybean and find a way to ask how other things were going—like, had any law enforcement organization found out about those dogs I’d been concerned over, or were the cops ready to arrest someone in Ada Arnist’s death?

Sure, I could do that subtly.

Once more that night I didn’t sleep extremely well, even though I felt very relaxed after being with Reed earlier.

And for the next few days I tried to rein my mind in, since I didn’t have any further ideas about how to help Janelle. She hadn’t been arrested yet anyway. Maybe all was good with her.

Until Friday. That was when she called me at the shops, sounding utterly upset, to say she couldn’t come in that day to help out. She’d been asked to bring her attorney and come back to the police station since they had a few more questions for her.

I was in the Barkery when she called, along with Vicky, who was also helping out that day. Dinah was working in Icing. I hopefully had enough assistance that day, and I had to do something to help Janelle. But what?

More customers entered the shop, so I had to concentrate on them first. A good diversion, and a profitable one, since they were planning a doggy birthday party and wanted a whole bunch of Barkery treats.

When they left with numerous packages in their arms, my mind returned to Janelle’s call. I still needed to figure out what to do.

Unless, of course, the cops actually did just need some more information from her about her suspicions of how Go had gotten to Knobcone Heights.

Then why would they advise her to bring her lawyer?

I was standing behind the counter at the Barkery, my head somewhat spinning. I closed my eyes briefly to try to settle down my thoughts—and the bells at the door rang.

I opened my eyes—just as Garvy Grant walked in.

“Hello, Carrie,” he called out effusively, avoiding Vicky and the people she was waiting on and striding straight toward me. “Did I hear that you were looking for me?”