Karma's A Bitch (A Pet Psychic Mystery) (16 page)

The door jangled again and Landry came in with three pink leashes in one hand and a bakery box in the other.

“Hello!”

Great, another cheerful soul. I was grateful for the interruption, though.

“Hi, Landry. Go on back. Sylvia’s expecting you.” I turned back to Will and gave him my best attempt at a smile. “I’ll call you later.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

His phone vibrated, he kissed my cheek before answering it and heading out the door. My thoughts were whirling like a hurricane. Who was this person who confessed? Why would someone confess to a murder they didn’t commit? How was I supposed to sit across from Will at dinner knowing what I knew about that night—that Mad Dog had been killed in the townhouse, not at the lake—and keep silent? I had to talk to this Richard Stranton person. Had I seen him at Pirate City before? It seemed they all go by nicknames so I had no idea who he was.

In between helping customers, I hatched a plan to visit Richard at the jail and confront him. I also began to work my way through the list of Fowlers in the Tampa area. I made it to listing number eight with no luck before Frankie came through the door with Itty and Bitty.

“Hey, Frankie.” I felt disorientated. “I don’t have you in the appointment book today?”

“No, no,” she waved. “I just came by for some of those doggie truffles and to say hi. How’s everything going?” She led the two pups over to the counter.

“Well, Will just stopped by with a shocking bit of news.”

“Really? What’s that?”

“Seems a man by the name of Richard Stranton turned himself in last night and confessed to killing Mad Dog.”

“Well, I’ll be a son of a sailor! That’s great news!” Her hand was on her hip. “Right?”

“Sure.” I tried to muster up her level of enthusiasm. “Will said the guy knew Mad Dog from Pirate City. You know anyone there by that name?”

She thought for a minute then shook her head. “No, sorry. But, I don’t know if I actually know anybody’s real name anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m going to go visit him at the jail and find out who he is and why he confessed.”

“You don’t believe he did it?”

“No.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

It took twenty minutes to get to the Pinellas County Jail in a taxi that smelled like mold and feet. I had to make an appointment and, apparently, would only be allowed to speak with Mr. Stranton via video phone but that was probably for the best anyway. This way I wouldn’t be arrested for strangling the man for lying.

After showing my ID, I was led to a row of visiting booths. I took a seat in a black plastic chair in front of a flat screen. There was a phone attached to the right side of the screen and it was bordered by a short privacy wall. My hands were damp and I rubbed them roughly on my shorts. I tried not to glance around at the other people visiting, but there really wasn’t anywhere else to look. It seemed like forever before the screen flickered on and I was staring into the face of Richard Stranton. He had that same beaten down expression as when I had seen him last--sad eyes, droopy head.

I picked up the phone. “Hops?”

“Hey, I know you…Snow White, right? Why’d you come?”

“I need to ask you something.” He just kept staring at me, so I laid it out. “I don’t believe you’re the one who killed Mad Dog. Why would you confess to it?”

“’Cause I did it. I killed him.”

That sounded more like a rehearsed answer than a confession. “Then tell me this,” I tried to keep my voice down, which was getting harder as my grip on my emotions slipped. “Tell me where his dog, Karma, was while this supposed confrontation happened?”

He shrugged. “How am I supposed to know where his dog was?”

“Because that dog would never leave Mad Dog’s side. He would have been right there, in your face, if you hurt Mad Dog. Besides,” my eyes narrowed. “You’re a big guy but Mad Dog was a trained soldier. You wouldn’t have got the best of him unless he was drunk or drugged, which the autopsy proved he wasn’t.”

Richard frowned and looked at me harder. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I want the person responsible for his death behind bars. And you’re not him.”

We stared at each other for a long minute. Then his shoulders drooped and he looked away.

I didn’t want him to end our conversation, so I tried a softer approach. “So, Mac was helping you with a resume the first time I saw you. Anything come of that?”

He made a noise like air seeping out of a tire. “There ain’t no jobs for people like me. Hell, there ain’t barely jobs for people who had college.”

“Sure, it’s tough out there but…” I sat up and stared at him. “Wait. Did someone give you money to take the blame?”

He glanced up at me. “I reckon our visit’s over.”

“Wait! Please!” I scooted closer to the screen. “You don’t have to do this. I can pay you to tell the truth.”

He hesitated, glanced from side to side, then offered me a sad smile. “Not enough. Miss, I get three meals a day in here and a roof over my head. No one needs to pay me no more. My worries are over. I’m retired.”

I didn’t even know what to say. I was still trying to wrap my mind around the idea of someone being so desperate for food and shelter they would confess to murder, when he hung up and disappeared. I hung up the phone on my end. Now what?

***

That evening I agreed to meet Will for dinner. I had been putting him off since Monday when he told me about Hop’s confession. I knew I’d have to face him sooner or later. Time to put on my big girl pants, as Grandma Winters used to say.

Thick, gray clouds rolled across the sky, and it was pitch black to the east. A storm was coming. I decided to leave Karma home so we could eat indoors. Besides, wet dog was not my favorite fragrance.

Will was waiting for me outside Parkshore Grill. When I walked up, he enfolded me in a gentle hug, kissed the top of my head and then lifted my chin to kiss my mouth. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy being in his arms. It was just a moment, though, before the guilt crept in and pushed me away from him like two positive sides of a magnet. I didn’t deserve this. All the things I was keeping from him were between us and I couldn’t let myself forget that. I couldn’t be a hypocrite.

“Ready?” I asked, almost tearing up at the trust in those blue eyes and then at the confusion my sudden coolness caused.

“Sure.” One word, whispered. He led me inside and we were seated at the same booth as when he first told me about the autopsy and about Mad Dog having a daughter. I was beginning to think of this as “our booth” and mentally smacked myself.

Will took a sip of water. “So, any luck finding information on Mr. Fowler’s daughter?”

I glanced up. I swear the man could read my mind.

“No, not yet. I’m working my way through the phone book, calling all the Fowlers in the Tampa area. I spotted a Mariah Fowler there in a 4H article. I’m hoping it’s her. Mad Dog sketched her, in the notebook. He must have really loved her and his wife. I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t be with them.”

“There are all kinds of roadblocks life throws in people’s way. Sometimes love’s not enough.”

“Feeling cynical tonight?”

“No. Just realistic.”

Luckily, the waiter returned, because when I glanced at Will he looked painfully serious. I ordered the lobster pasta and Will ordered the shrimp capellini. The waiter left and Will slid his hand over mine.

“So, now that you’re not going to be spending so much time searching for Mr. Fowler’s murderer, maybe we can spend more time together.”

I didn’t like the way he was searching my face. Was he trying to figure out if I still believed they had the wrong guy? My body tensed. I was hoping to avoid this conversation, but who was I kidding? It was unavoidable.

“Will,” I slipped my other hand on top of his. “Please don’t get mad.” I felt him pull back a little but I had to be honest with him, at least about this. “I went to visit Richard Stranton in jail.”

He pulled his hands away and his face hardened. “Why would you do that?”

I held eye contact even though his darkening expression was killing me. “You know why.”

He nodded and moved his gaze to stare outside. Raindrops were just starting to splatter on the sidewalk. The evening sky glowed sepia behind the dark clouds. “Because you don’t believe he killed your friend.”

I stayed silent, hoping he would think about this and realize it wasn’t something that should come between us. But, his next words showed me why it would.

“You do realize that you are insulting my ability to do my job?”

“No!” I felt the heat crawl up my neck. “No, it’s just that I know things…”
things you don’t know
. “Like, I know Karma and he wouldn’t have left Mad Dog’s side. And when I talked to Hops…Richard Stranton, he said he confessed just to have a roof over his head and three meals a day. He wouldn’t say that to you.”
And I know that Mad Dog was killed at the townhouse, not the lake
. “It has nothing to do with your ability as a detective.”

“Darwin, we didn’t just accept his confession without question. There was a detail about the weapon used that we never released to the public. Richard Stranton brought the weapon with him, homemade brass knuckles with four triangles at point of impact. It matched the pattern of damage on Mr. Fowler’s jaw and side exactly.”

Well, that shut me up. For at least five minutes.

The waiter brought a bread basket and our salads. We picked at them in silence. I started thinking maybe Hops did kill him. But why would he lie about where it happened? I mean, if he was going to confess, why not confess the whole truth? I really needed Will’s help to find out more about what kind of activities were going on in that townhouse. Maybe I could tell Will the truth about my vision. I snuck a glance at him. He looked so hurt. Was there a way to see how he felt about the subject first, without actually laying my soul bare and losing him forever?

“Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

“What about bringing in a psychic on the case? Does your department ever do that?”

Will’s brows furrowed. “A psychic?”

I already didn’t like his reaction, but I needed to know the depth of his disbelief or distain. “Yeah, you know, maybe they can give you some clues about what really happened that night. Wouldn’t it be worth a shot?”

“First of all, our department does not use psychics or gypsies or fortunetellers, whatever you want to call those charlatans. And secondly, the case is closed. Did you even hear what I said about the homemade weapon?”

“Yes.” Closed. Yep. The case and his mind. Well, that was that. I was on my own.

The rain dumped out of the night sky, pounding the sidewalk while we ate in silence, or pretended to eat. Even though the mouthfuls of warm, soft pasta were heaven, I was pretty sure we were both just trying to get the food past the lumps in our throats.

Will paid the check under my protest and held out his hand to help me out of the booth. Slipping my hand in his was pure torture. I felt the sweet, warm energy tingling up my arm into my chest.

We stood side by side at the front door. “Damn, I forgot an umbrella.”

“I’ve got one, if you don’t mind sharing.” I dug in my straw bag and pulled out an umbrella. The second day I lived in St. Pete I purchased a pair of dark sunglasses and an umbrella. These are the two extremes we live in: blinding sun or soaking rain.

He looked down at me and when our eyes met, his mouth softened. “Look, Darwin, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive. I don’t want our night to end like this or my job coming between us. Forgive me?”

“Of course,” I smiled, though he wasn’t the one that needed forgiveness. My sin was much worse than a little anger. I was intentionally withholding information about myself that would change his mind about me. What did he call psychics? Charlatans? I definitely felt like a fraud. “Forgive me?”

“Of course. I’ll walk you back home.” He took the umbrella and opened the door. “Ready?”

I nodded and pressed against him as the umbrella popped open and we pushed out into the rain. Heavens, I loved these moments: Will’s arm around me, my cheek pressed against his chest, immersed in the smell and sound of a summer storm. Oh, and no talking that would lead to hurt feelings. Too bad it was such a short walk.

“Is that Karma?” I asked, listening to a dog barking like mad. “Let me check the boutique.” A gasp escaped me as we walked up. Will pulled me closer to him and we stared at the red letters spray painted on the windows.

“Stop medling bitch”

“Who would do that?”

“Someone who doesn’t know how to spell.” I touched the paint, it smeared. “Still wet. Creepy. Well, I better go get something to clean it off before it dries.”

Will pulled out his phone and took a few pictures of the message. “I’ll call a patrol car and stay with you until they get here.”

“Do you think that’s necessary? I mean, they didn’t cause any permanent damage. It’ll wash off.”

“Yeah…this time. That’s a threat though, Darwin. I take all threats seriously.”

“All right, well, we can’t stand out in the rain. Come on, we can wait for them upstairs.”

As I led him through the gate, I mentally scanned the townhouse, trying to remember if I left anything out that might expose my secret. There were some candles on the coffee table, the water bowl on the kitchen counter. I had left my more incriminating items back home in

Savannah. Still, my stomach tightened as we stood in the elevator side by side. Oh heavens. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Will smiled down at me. Too late now.

When I opened the door, Karma was right there, panting and pacing.

“It’s okay, boy. The bad person is gone.” I hugged his huge head and patted his rump to try and calm him down. Drool dripped onto my foot. Ew. “Let’s get a treat.” As I stepped into the kitchen for Karma’s peanut butter cookie, Will made his way into the living room and called the police on his cell. I heard him giving them the information and then he hung up and stood, looking out through the French doors. Karma swallowed his treat and lumbered over to stand beside him, ears alert. Two beautiful guardians.