Let Sleeping Dogs Die, page 10
“Hey, I was beginning to wonder if you’d found something better to do,” Lionel said.
“Better than this? You’ve got to be kidding.” I pulled out the key Peter had given me and opened the door to the training arena, trying to push aside thoughts of things I could be doing with Scott, not to mention the other parts of my life that were spinning out of control.
“Yeah, kidding. What could be better than garnering multiple wounds from pissy cats?”
“Did you put some antibiotic cream on those scratches?” I asked.
Lionel shoved the sleeves of his stained sweatshirt up to his elbows and held his forearms out for inspection.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Smart-ass.” I looked at the angry scratches on his arms, pleased that they appeared to be superficial. Still red, but no signs of infection. “Cat scratches can be very bad.”
“No kidding. I mean, do you know where those claws have been?” Lionel frowned. “They’ve been covering cat feces with sand. Or gravel. Or whatever they use.”
“Try not to think about it,” I advised.
“Easy for you to say. I don’t see any scratches on your arms.”
He had a point. One I didn’t really want to argue.
“Miss Kitty and Jerry should be here soon with the kitty talent. Do we have everything we need for the Thanksgiving shot?”
“Check.” Lionel followed me into the arena with his shopping bag. “The fake turkey is already here, along with the straw bales and pumpkins. I’ve made little feather headbands for the cats and a black pilgrim hat.” Lionel set his shopping bag on the prop table. “You know, I don’t get any points with chicks when I tell them this is what I do all day.”
“Deal with it. I’m just glad we don’t have to do dogs and cats together today.”
“You know, we should do the October shot soon, too. Those pumpkins aren’t going to last forever. And it cost a fortune to get them. March isn’t exactly pumpkin season.”
“Good point. Do you need to carve one of the pumpkins before the shot?”
“Yeah. I could do it after we do this shot. I mean, how hard could it be? Just cut some holes out of the pumpkin, right?”
“Lionel, have you never carved a pumpkin?”
“Not really. But like I said, how hard can it be?”
I had an instant flashback to the first time Sheridan had carved a pumpkin. I still felt a heavy load of guilt about letting her use a kitchen knife. We’d ended up in the emergency room for three hours and left with four stitches in Sheridan’s finger and a stern lecture from the attending physician about letting children play with knives. The following year, I’d found one of those safe-for-children kits. I still felt guilty. And I could only imagine having to drive Lionel to the emergency room.
My imagination was cut short by the arrival of Miss Kitty, her son, Jerry, and a load of cats safely imprisoned in their cages.
“Miss Kitty, I’m so happy to see you. Today should go much better.”
“Well, I should hope so. I don’t know that I could stand another day like yesterday. Having my precious kitties attacked by those awful dogs …” Miss Kitty shook her head, then motioned toward her son.
“Jerry, bring the crates in and set them up over there.” She turned back to me. “We aren’t having any dogs today, are we?”
“No,” I assured her. “No dogs. Just cats today.”
“Well, that’s a huge relief.” Miss Kitty swished off to direct Jerry in exactly where and in what order he should arrange the cat cages.
I turned to Lionel. “Set up the Thanksgiving shot.”
“Sure. No problem. Think you could give me a hand with the sheet? I mean, backdrop? Or seamless. Whatever we’re calling it.”
“Of course.” I pulled the orangey beige sheet off the ironing board and carried it to the setup Peter had rigged for us. Between Lionel and myself, we got it hung and adjusted so there were no folds. Through the lens of my camera it looked as good as real seamless. Okay, maybe not as good, but I thought it was good enough. If Connie didn’t like it, then she should have been here to say so. Lionel dragged the straw bales to the platform and got them into place. There was a lot of grunting and groaning but he managed. He added cornstalks and some decorative squashes, then placed the Pet Place products.
“Hey, Skye, can I get some help with these hats?” Lionel held two miniature pilgrim hats by their stretchy strings and a tiny headband with three feathers attached.
“See if Jerry can help you with them. I still need to check the lights and I’m sure he’ll be more help than me.”
“I’ll be glad to help, if you’ll tell me what to do.”
I looked up to find Peter standing a few feet away and remembered that Scott wanted to talk to him.
“Hi, Peter. I didn’t expect to see you today.” I adjusted one of the reflective umbrellas. “Did Scott Madison get in touch with you?”
“The detective?” Peter shook his head. “Not in the last few days, but I’ve been at the coast since yesterday.”
“You should give him a call. He said something about it being okay to put the dogs back in the kennel.”
“That’s good news. I took them to the coast because my condo was just too small for that many dogs. It’ll be a relief to have them back in their home again.”
“I was wondering if I need to do anything differently now that you own the business rather than Frank?”
Peter shrugged. “I really don’t know, but I don’t think so. The business will bill your agency for the animal talent. I have an appointment with Frank’s accountant later this week to see what I need to do.”
“Probably need to see a lawyer, too. Just to get everything transferred to your name,” I suggested.
“Yes, I’ve got that appointment set up, too. But I’m thinking that I’m just going to sell the business anyway. Or maybe sell the dogs individually to other animal agencies.”
“Really?”
“Well, Frank was only doing the talent business and I’ve never been that interested in that part of it. He didn’t really own any show dogs other than Captain.”
“I didn’t know he showed Captain. I thought he was just a companion dog.”
“Captain was both. He regularly won at dog shows. It’s always been a pleasure to show him.”
“Frank had you show his dog? Why didn’t he do it?”
“Frank never had the patience for dog shows. There’s a lot of politics and more than a few backstabbers. But he liked having the ribbons and the bragging rights, so he let me show Captain.”
“Couldn’t you keep the business and turn it toward what you like?” I asked. “You still do the agility training and the show dogs.”
“The accountant says the business isn’t doing very well. And I only got the business, not the house or kennels or the arena. Which means I got the dogs and some wardrobe pieces.” Peter shrugged. “So there’s no real point.”
“That’s too bad. Did you expect it to be in better shape?” I asked.
“Not really. Frank’s strong point wasn’t running a business, and he was always complaining about how bad business was. I kind of expected it.”
I’d thought that Peter was inheriting a good business. One that he’d been cheated out of years ago. And that would have made him a suspect, but now it looked like there was no real reason for him to want Frank dead. I was relieved because I liked Peter.
Peter followed me to the next light and watched as I adjusted the angle of the light reflector. “Were you asking because I’m a suspect?” he inquired.
“What?” I turned away from him, hoping to hide my surprise. “Why would you ask that?”
“Skye, it’s all right. Detective Madison told me I was a suspect.”
“He did? Oh. Did you tell him that you knew the business wasn’t worth much?”
“Not really. He didn’t ask and I never thought of it. You think it makes a difference?”
“It should. I mean, that would be your only motive, wouldn’t it?”
“Even if the business had been booming, it wouldn’t have been a motive to kill Frank.”
“Of course not. I’m sorry. I’m putting this the wrong way.”
Peter grinned. “Don’t worry. I know what you meant. And yes, I guess that would have been the only motive. I’ll go call Detective Madison about getting into the kennel, and I’ll be sure to let him know about the business.”
“Good idea. See you later.”
Peter waved and pulled his cell phone out as he walked to the door. I turned back to the task at hand to find that the set was ready and Jerry was cuddling three of the kittens we were going to use for the Thanksgiving shot. Lionel was desperately trying to hold on to the other two.
“All right. It looks like we’re ready to shoot,” I called. Lionel quickly dumped his two kittens on the platform, and Jerry gently placed the three in his arms next to them, shooting my stylist a frown.
“Jerry, could you do something to get them playing together?” I asked. Jerry nodded and pulled a length of yarn from his pocket. One end was tied into a loopy knot, which the kittens lunged for as soon as he dangled it over them. I clicked off shots from the camera on the tripod, then grabbed my digital camera and snapped another dozen or so.
After an exhausting few hours, I’d finished the Thanksgiving shot and two others when Miss Kitty announced that the cats were all fatigued and had to be taken home to rest. It was already late enough that I didn’t argue with her. Lionel helped me pack up the cameras and tear down the set while Jerry packed the kitty cages into Miss Kitty’s van.
The door to the arena opened, casting a shaft of late afternoon sun across the floor. I looked up to see the dark outline of a man standing in the doorway.
“Can I help you?”
“Maybe. I hear Frank was killed.” The man walked across the arena and stopped a few yards from me.
“Yes, I’m afraid he was. Was he a friend of yours?”
“Hardly.” The man shuffled his feet. “I been Frank’s neighbor ever since he bought the place. Used to be real quiet and peaceful until he brought all them dogs here. Since then, it’s been nothing but barking and whining all hours of the day and night.”
“I see.” I didn’t know what else to say and hoped the man would enlighten me as to his purpose for being here.
“Name’s Taylor Hudson.” The man pulled a ratty hat off his head and stepped forward to offer me a beefy, calloused hand.
“Skye Donovan.” I shook his hand. “Did you want something?”
“Not really. Just wondered about all the activity over here. What with Frank gone and all.” He shoved the hat back on his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Actually, we all been hoping that things would get a mite quieter now. But that don’t seem to be the case.”
“I’m sorry if we’re disturbing you. I’m just shooting some photographs for a pet calendar and I hope to be finished in a few more days.”
“It’s not you. It the dogs. Barking all night. Howling all the time. It’s enough to drive a man to drink, if he was inclined to that kind of thing. Which I’m not.”
“Have the dogs been barking more lately?” I asked. He nodded. “I see. I think it’s probably because the kennel was off-limits to everyone while the police investigated the murder. But I understand they’ve released the crime scene. I’m sure Peter will take care of the dogs now, so you shouldn’t be bothered much longer.”
“Well, I hope that’s the truth. Most of the neighbors have had about as much as they can take. Can’t say I’m surprised someone would kill Frank. He never seemed to care if he was inconveniencing anyone else. We complained plenty of times about the noise, but he just told us he was within his rights.”
“Oh.” Well, what could I say? It sounded like Frank was a class A jerk.
“Like nobody had rights except him.” The man shook his head. “Wouldn’t surprise me if one of the neighbors finally had enough of him and the noise and took matters into their own hands.”
I nodded mutely, at a loss for anything to say.
“Well, I’ll be getting back to the house now. Wheel of Fortune is coming on in a bit and I hate to miss it.”
“Wheelof Fortune?” I asked.
He nodded. “I got satellite so I get it several times a day. The missus likes to see what Vanna’s wearing every day. Me, I’m fond of the puzzles. I can get most of them before the contestants do.”
“I see. That’s good.”
“‘Course, it’d be easier if they’d show the damned board longer. The contestants, they get to stand there and stare at it for the whole show. Viewers like me, we just get to catch a glimpse. I think they do it on purpose.”
“Probably,” I agreed.
The man turned and left without any further words. Which was fine with me as I’d found the entire conversation more than a little unsettling. I was still pondering whether he’d wanted me to do something about the barking dogs when my cell phone jingled. I pulled it out of my pocket and felt a little thrill when I saw Scott’s name on the display.
“Hi, Scott.”
“Hi, gorgeous. You about done with the cats and kittens?”
“I am so done with the cats and kittens.”
“So, we can have dinner?”
“Dinner sounds wonderful. What did you have in mind?”
“What I have in mind has nothing to do with dinner, but if you insist on eating, how about the Chart House?”
I swallowed hard at his innuendo and took a breath. “I’d love to go to the Chart House.”
“I thought you would. Will your mother be joining us?”
“No!” Then I realized maybe that had sounded a little forceful. “I mean, she’s at Bobbi Jo’s, and I think she said something about them shopping for the baby tonight.” Okay, she hadn’t said anything of the kind. In fact, I hadn’t even talked to her today. But no way was I going to let her visit disrupt whatever Scott and I were trying to put back together.
“Should I meet you at your place or do you want to pick me up?” I asked.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” I closed the cell phone and carried my bags to the truck. After loading everything in the back, I slid behind the wheel, put on the headset to my cell phone, and punched in the speed dial number for Bobbi Jo’s home phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Lily, it’s Skye. Is my mother there?”
“Thank the Goddess, no.”
“Oh. That doesn’t sound good.”
“Sorry. It’s just that she and Bobbi Jo are driving me crazy. Fortunately, they’ve gone to the hospital.”
“Oh, my God! Is Bobbi Jo in labor? Why didn’t someone call me?”
“No, it’s not that. Bobbi Jo’s Lamaze teacher has been telling all the women to go take a tour of the labor and delivery ward. Of course, Bobbi Jo didn’t want to do it, but your mother managed to talk her into it.”
“That’s a relief. Why didn’t Bobbi Jo want to take the tour of the ward?”
“How the hell would I know?” Lily asked. “Sorry. I don’t think I’m really cut out to be a doula, you know? I mean, I thought I could do it. And I probably could for a normal mother-to-be. But Bobbi Jo is high maintenance.”
“I’m sorry. And now you have my mother to deal with, too.”
“Oh, your mother is the only thing saving my life right now. Probably saving Bobbi Jo’s life, too. If I had to deal with her alone, I’m not sure I could be held responsible for my actions.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear my mother isn’t adding to your stress. I’m also glad to hear she’s occupied. Scott and I are having dinner tonight, so tell her that I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“Dinner? Are you two working things out?” Lily asked.
“Maybe. I’d like to. But we still have some major issues.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks, Lily. I have to run. I’m home and I need to take a shower and get ready.”
“Have fun, Skye. I’m going to go have a glass of wine in blessed quiet and solitude. While I can.”
I pulled the truck into my parking space and pulled the headset off. I had an hour and a half to get gorgeous for Scott.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Va-va-va-voom!”
I turned toward my open bedroom door and grinned at Sheridan. “Stop that. I haven’t finished dressing.”
Sheridan eyed my black bra, matching thong, and thigh-high stockings. “I should hope not. But, really, Mom, the only reason to wear underwear like that is to have someone look at it.”
She was right, of course. I’d purchased the under garments a couple of months ago in the hope of having a chance to wear them for Scott. But, I wasn’t going to admit that to Sheridan.
“Scott is taking me to the Chart House tonight. I thought I should dress up, and this is my only black bra.”
“You have a black sports bra.” Sheridan snickered. “Why not wear that?”
I grabbed a pillow off my bed and threw it at her. She dodged the pillow, picked it up, and placed it back on the bed, making sure it was straight, then smoothed a wrinkle from the bedspread.
“Scott, huh? You two seeing each other again?”
“Well, we’re having dinner. I’m not sure where it will go from there.”
“You’ve already had sex with him.” Sheridan nodded.
“Sheridan! You don’t need to speculate on my sex life.”
“I don’t have to speculate. It’s written all over your face.”
I don’t know why or how, but Sheridan and my best friends always seem to know when I’ve had sex. They all say it’s written all over my face. If I could figure out which part of my face it’s written on, I’d erase it.
“Well, I think it’s great that you two are back together. I know you’ve missed him.”
