Puppy Love and Panic, page 13
“I just—”
“Gina!” Daisy shouted.
“I really can’t believe this,” Trevor muttered.
“Trevor, you have to put yourself in my position,” I said. “I don’t know who to trust. You’re the police. Your department is looking for my son. Please try to understand.”
“Gina!” Daisy yelled. “Gina, listen to me! It’s important!”
“What?!” I shouted, losing my patience.
“The face suckers at the park!” Daisy replied. “One of them had yellow shoelaces!”
Chapter 19
I stared at Daisy as Trevor asked, “What, what? Who are you yelling at?”
Having just told him about Jacob, I wasn’t quite ready to share that I could talk to my dog.
“I’m… I’m sorry.” Shaking my head, I hurried for the bedroom. “I’ll be right back, Trevor. Don’t leave.”
Daisy trotted behind me, followed by Mustard, who kept yapping at Daisy and nipping at her feet.
When we entered the bedroom, I shut the door. “Who had the yellow shoelaces?” I hissed. “And why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
“You never asked about yellow shoelaces,” Daisy said as she jumped on the bed, then looked down at Mustard. “Stop biting me, you little monster. I’ll put you back in the dumpster.”
I sat down next to her on the bed and distinctly recalled her examining both Zoe and Oliver’s shoes after the squirrel debacle. “Daisy, which one had the yellow shoelaces? Was it Zoe or Oliver?”
“Hmm… I don’t remember. I wasn’t looking at their faces. I was sniffing their shoes.”
“Okay.” I fisted my palms in my lap as I attempted to keep calm and not lose my patience. “There were two people sitting together on a bench. One was sitting on the left. The other was sitting on the right. Do you remember which person it was?”
“I don’t really know my right from my left,” Daisy replied. “And besides, if I’m looking at them from the back, isn’t it different from looking at them from the front?”
I nodded, but I wanted to throttle Daisy. This was Jacob’s life and it all hinged on a talking dog knowing her right from her left.
Mustard continued to bark at Daisy from the floor. I gently lifted her to my lap where she bit Daisy’s nose.
“Ow, brat!” Daisy howled. “Someone should go drown you in a river!”
“Daisy!” I scolded. “That’s a horrible thing to say!”
“I know.” She laid down and placed her head on my lap. “I’m sorry, Mustard. That was mean. Just please quit biting me.”
“Daisy, we have to figure out which person it was that was wearing yellow shoelaces. That’s probably the killer. Jacob won’t be in trouble anymore.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on me,” she replied.
I ran my hand over her head. “I know it is, but you’re the smartest dog around. We can get it figured out. Were there any smells that caught your attention when you were sniffing their shoes?”
“Maybe tacos?”
“Tacos?” I replied. “Really?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just thinking about how good tacos smell.”
I sighed and shut my eyes for a moment. “Daisy, this is important. Please. Try to concentrate.”
“Will you make tacos?”
“Yes. I’ll make tacos.”
As I stared at her, I wondered once again if I was talking to myself. Was I having a conversation with my subconscious? Daisy and I had both been there, but perhaps dogs couldn’t talk and I chatted away with myself but only thought it was the dog. This worried me.
And if that were the case, nothing made sense.
Although, tacos did sound delicious.
“Zoe was the girl with the curly hair, right?” Daisy asked.
“Yes.” I noted that Mustard had fallen asleep in my lap. It always amazed me how puppies could go from one hundred miles per hour to zero in seconds, then right back again.
“Well, I don’t think it was her,” Daisy said. “The feet smelled like Jacob’s. They were stinky. So I think it was the boy, Olive.”
“His name’s Oliver,” I said, my insides buzzing with excitement.
“Well, Olive or Oliver, it still sounds like food and I’m hungry, Gina.”
“Let’s get you a snack in a minute,” I replied. “So you think the yellow shoelaces were on the boy’s feet, correct?”
“Yes, because they smelled like something died in them, just like Jacob’s. And Jacob’s a boy, so I think that maybe the boy’s feet smelled the same as his.”
Of course, none of this would ever stand up in court. A talking dog nailing the killer based on yellow shoelaces and stinky feet? Ridiculous.
However, I felt energized because it all fit.
Oliver killed Ava. Maybe she’d broken up with him that night and despite having Zoe, he decided if he couldn’t have her, no one could.
Or maybe he murdered her in a fit of rage over Gabriel being present at the party.
He’d dated Ava for a long time, so he must have known about the boat. “There’s only one way to find out,” I muttered.
I marched back into the living room with Mustard in my arms. Grabbing my phone, I hurried back toward the bedroom. “I’m almost done!” I called to Trevor. “I’ll be out in a minute!”
He cursed, but remained where he was. He’d been around long enough to accept my antics.
After sitting down on the bed, I called Ava’s mother, Gwen. She picked up on the second ring.
“Gina?”
“Yes. How’re you doing, Gwen?”
I immediately regretted the question. Her child had died. She was in unrelenting pain, indescribable agony.
“I just took two muscle relaxers, so right now, I’m pretty numb,” she slurred. “Did you find out who killed my baby?”
“Maybe,” I replied. I had no way of proving any of it, though. “Can you tell me if Oliver ever went out on the boat with you and your family?”
“Many, many times,” she said. “The kids even took it out by themselves every now and then. Why?”
“Just curious.” Then another thought struck me. “Have you heard from Oliver at all? Has he been in touch?”
“No,” she whispered, as if almost asleep. “I figured he was too distraught to talk to us.”
Another nail in Oliver’s coffin. If he hadn’t been the killer, then I could only assume he’d want to speak with Ava’s family. But I also imagined if he was the killer, seeing her parents would be very difficult, if not impossible. How would he look them in the face?
“I was going through Ava’s things and found some love letters from him,” Gwen continued. “He’s a beautiful writer, Gina. It makes sense that he was majoring in English with an emphasis on writing and worked at the paper. It seemed as if he really enjoyed it.”
“What did the letters to Ava say?”
“He loved her very much.” She sighed. “They were very nice.”
She sounded as if she were drifting off to sleep.
“Thanks for the information,” I said. “Get some rest, Gwen. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Do you think it was him? Oliver? Do you think he killed my girl?”
I glanced at my dog who stared up at me with huge brown eyes. Based on what she’d shared with me I thought, yes, it was Oliver—but there wasn’t any way to prove it. “I don’t know,” I replied. “But I’ll be in touch soon.”
After setting down the phone, I stared at Daisy again. “How am I going to show that Oliver murdered Ava?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “That’s not my job.”
“You could give me your input.”
“Tacos. That’s my input, Gina.”
I needed evidence. But where would I find any? The police must have dusted the boat for prints. Had they found Oliver’s? Even if they had though, it didn’t matter. He’d been on the boat many times.
No, I needed something else… like shoes with yellow shoelaces. And a confession would be nice.
But how could I obtain all this evidence I so desperately wanted?
Suddenly, I wished Trevor had left. If so, I’d have time to think. Instead, I had to head back to the living room and attempt to explain my outburst without revealing my talking dog secret.
I stood with Mustard still in my arms.
“Gina?” Daisy said.
I turned to look at her before opening the bedroom door. “Yes?”
“I’ve been a bad dog,” she said. “I lied.”
“What did you lie about?” I hoped it wasn’t the shoes.
“Mustard. She wants to go live with Annabelle. I lied to you and told you she didn’t.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked. Mustard barked at Daisy, then growled. I sat next to my dog again and stroked her head.
“Because I like her and want her for myself,” Daisy said. “She’s my little friend.”
“Ah, I see,” I said. “Well, I’m glad you told me the truth. What made you change your mind?”
“I felt bad for lying,” she said. “And Mustard is angry at me because she likes Annabelle and her family. And then I remembered what you said about Mustard growing big. If she’s mad at me and biting me now, what’s she going to do when she’s a lot bigger than me? Rip out my guts? So, I thought it was best to come clean.”
“It always is,” I muttered.
“You aren’t angry?”
“Nope. I understand why you did what you did. Here’s the thing, though, Daisy: we see Annabelle a lot. You’ll be able to play with Mustard a few times a week.”
“That makes me happy, Gina. I do like her.”
The puppy crawled out of my arms and snuggled in next to Daisy. “I think she likes you, too.”
“She’s not mad at me anymore,” Daisy said, licking the top of Mustard’s head.
At least I had one of my problems solved. Mustard would go to Annabelle. I pulled out my phone and texted my friend before Daisy could change her mind.
In true Annabelle fashion, I received back a string of emojis that contained dogs, smiley faces and fireworks.
* * *
I typed:
I’ll drop her over in the next couple of days.
* * *
Now I just needed to figure out how to prove Oliver killed Ava. If I were a killer harboring evidence, where would I put it?
As a grown woman who spent way too much time thinking about murder and motives, I wouldn’t keep anything anywhere near me. Heck, even my son was somewhere far away and I had no idea where.
But what if I were a lovestruck young adult?
My room, tucked away under a bed or hidden in some drawers.
I couldn’t just march into Oliver’s house and go through his room. The police could, but my contact in the department had just been fired.
An idea came to me—a terrible, terrible idea.
But one that may work.
I hurried to the living room and stood in front of Trevor, crossing my arms over my chest. “I need you to leave.”
“You just yelled at me not to go anywhere!”
“I know, and I’m well aware I’m acting absolutely bonkers. But I’m about to do something highly illegal, Trevor. Since you’re going to be the next sheriff of Heywood, I don’t think you should be involved.”
“The next sheriff of Heywood?” He shook his head.
“Yes. If you want to be. You’d make a great one.”
“Gina, I feel like you’ve lost your mind.”
“I kind of feel the same. I’ve drummed up a plan for you if you want to be sheriff, and a plan to catch the killer. You don’t want to know about the latter, especially if you want to be the former.”
Chapter 20
After Trevor left, I made a phone call. An hour later, my mother and father sat at my kitchen table sipping coffee. I absolutely hated having to involve them, but I couldn’t pull off my plan. The only person I knew who could was Brandy, New York’s Notorious Nanny.
I stared at the woman with the sharp blue eyes and long gray hair. Every fiber of my being detested I had to rely on her to clear Jacob’s name, but I’d do anything to help him, and that included begging my mother for help.
“He’s a nice kid,” Brandy said. “You’ve done well, Gina.”
“Thank you.”
My father cleared his throat. “Why have you summoned us? I know it’s not to listen to us speak highly of Jacob.”
I took a deep breath. “I need your help, Brandy.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really? What do you want me to do?”
“I’d like you to break into a kids’ house and dorm, look for certain items in his room, then take pictures of them and bring them back to me.”
“You don’t want me to steal anything?”
“No. It’s evidence that will free Jacob. It needs to be left where it is so the police can find it.”
“And how do you know it’s there?” she asked.
“I don’t. I’m hoping it is, though.”
We sat quietly while she sipped her coffee and stared at the table. Finally, she said, “It’s been a long time since I’ve done something like this. I’m not young anymore.”
“Age is just a number,” I shot back. “You’re in shape. You won’t have any problems.”
“I feel great pressure from you.”
“And I feel great pressure to find evidence to free Jacob.” I stood and paced my small kitchen. “You know, Brandy, you were never there when I was a child. I didn’t receive a birthday card, a Christmas present… nothing. I’ve never asked you for anything since I was two.” I placed my hands on the table and glared at her. “You are the only person I know who can break into houses with ease and without detection. I am asking you to do this not for me, but for my son.”
“I do like him,” she said, smiling. “He’s smart and has a great future ahead of him.”
“Yes, he does. Spending the rest of his life in prison or on the run isn’t going to do him any favors. So please, help him.”
She nodded, then stared into her coffee cup again. “This isn’t something I can do tonight. It’s going to take planning.”
“I understand.”
“What are the addresses?”
In the hopes she’d say yes, I’d looked up Oliver’s parents’ address in Heywood, then also written down his dorm address at the college in Flagstaff. “The kids are on Spring Break. There won’t be many people at the college.” I hoped to convey that now would be the perfect time to sneak into the dorm undetected.
“Will the dorm be open?” she asked.
“Yes. There are some kids who don’t go home or on trips.”
Brandy glanced at my father, then smiled. “Well, that’s helpful. Change of plans. Why don’t the three of us head to Flagstaff?”
Daisy had promised me that she and Mustard would mind their manners before we left. Whether I believed her or not was a different story. I’d discover the truth when I returned.
My hands shook as I drove down the tree-lined highway to the college and my mother and father talked through their plan.
“You just have to pretend you’re an old broad,” my father, Theo, said. “It will work, Brandy. The idea is solid. Just be ancient and dumb. Society will take care of the rest.”
Ancient and dumb weren’t words I’d use to describe my elderly parents, but if that’s what would free Jacob, then so be it. We pulled into the dorm parking lot and I shut off the car.
“Wait here, Gina,” Dad said. “We’ll take care of it.”
After the car door slammed, I stared into space for a long moment. I couldn’t let them ‘take care of it.’ For decades, I’d been holding the load of my life and responsibilities on my own. It felt unnatural and wrong to have someone else deal with my business.
Besides, what if they needed my help? Going into the lobby and waiting on the sidelines, ready to jump in, just in case, seemed like a smart move.
I hurried into the building and found them talking to a woman at the welcome desk. Brandy had her arm through my father’s, her shoulders a little hunched. A few moments later, the student led them down the hall, leaving the desk unattended. Spring Break meant low employee and student count, which worked to our advantage.
My parents followed the woman slowly, my father even adding a little limp to his gait. Both were determined to appear as harmless as possible.
Rolling my eyes, I sat down and kept my gaze firmly on the hallway they’d gone down. Please let this work.
I waited for what seemed like hours. My leg bounced as I tried to appear nonchalant, as if a middle-aged woman sitting in a dorm lobby was a totally normal thing.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out. My mother.
The text read:
* * *
9-1-1! Down the right hallway at the end. Diversion. NOW!
* * *
I swore under my breath and followed the way they’d gone, where I immediately saw the problem. The student, my parents and a campus police officer were gathered outside one of the rooms. Dad and Brandy kept shaking their heads and pointing inside.
Before anyone could notice me, I turned down another hall and glanced around. She said they needed a diversion. What kind? Should I start a fire? Yell for help?
But then I saw exactly what was needed.
After running down to the end of the hallway, I pulled the fire alarm then walked quickly back the way I’d come. “Everyone out!” I yelled, banging on doors. “Let’s go!”
I turned to where my parents stood. The campus police and the student hurried toward me. “Go clear the next floor!” I yelled. “Get everyone out!”
“Take care of them!” the cop ordered, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. “I don’t think they belong in that room! They said it’s their grandson’s but I’m not buying it!”
“I’ll take care of it!” I shouted, running past him.
My parents were already in the room. While they rifled through the desk drawers, I stayed in the doorway yelling at any remaining person to vacate the building.
