Maximum Security (A Dog Park Mystery) (12 page)

Lia laid down her knife and hugged
Peter. She kissed him on the cheek. “You want to drink beer and
watch me cook every evening? That just makes my heart go
pitter-pat.”

“I don’t think you should have to
cook for me all the time. I just like the idea of coming home to
you.”

Lia turned to the stove and poured
a cup of rice into the bubbling water, stirred it briefly, covered
the pot and turned down the heat. She selected a garlic bulb from
the pile in the wire vegetable basket hanging by her sink and
started breaking off cloves. She stared intently at the garlic.
“Peter, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“But.”

Peter paused, his beer halfway to
his lips. “But?”

“I think I see where you’re going,
and I really don’t want to go there. I like what we have. It works.
We don’t ever have to resent each other. We’re together when we
want to be together and we’re apart when we need to focus on
something else.”

“Don’t you suppose your family has
given you a warped view of what marriage is?”

Lia smashed the garlic with the
side of a steel knife, then started popping the cloves out of their
peels. She took a moment to consider her words. “My mother married
every single time for love, and it never worked. It wasn’t enough.
Watching her taught me a lot about what marriage is.

“It’s about chores and wanting the
same things and figuring out what to do with money. All of a
sudden, my time, my money, it’s not mine any more. All of a sudden,
I’m not free to do what I want to do, unless my partner is okay
with it. And the same goes for you. Suddenly, the pettiest things
become a reason to be angry. Do you really want that to happen to
us?”

“It doesn’t have to happen. My
grandparents have been married for fifty years and they’re very
happy together. I wish you could meet them. You’d see what a good
marriage is all about.”

“They married at a time when most
women did not expect to be in control of their lives. I’m sure that
had something to do with it.”

“Marriage is work. I know that. I
don’t expect you to be the little woman.”

“Yet you expect to protect me from
my own judgement. You’d be happier if I wasn’t looking for Daisy,
admit it.”

Peter set down his beer. “There’s
something off about this case. Serving up a dead body to a pack of
coyotes is not the act of a sane person. You nearly died last year.
You still have a bullet hole in your leg. Is it so wrong for me to
care about your safety?”

“Why don’t we look at this case?
An unhappily married man trying to relive his youth while he
violates his marriage vows.” Lia pulled her largest skillet out of
the oven, poured in a dollop of olive oil and turned on the gas.
She retrieved her garlic press from the gadget drawer and pressed
several cloves into the heating oil, stirring them with a wooden
spoon.

“I can't argue that, but we’re not
them. I’m not George, you’re not Monica, and you’re not your
mother, either.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
“What
do
you want for us, then? Do you even want there to
be
an us?”

Lia picked up a large handful of
chopped greens and dropped them in the hot skillet. She stirred the
kale, added more as it wilted. She lowered the heat and turned to
him, wrapped her arms around his waist. “Of course I do. I just
haven't figured out how to keep us from becoming like so many other
couples.”

He hugged her back. “Maybe you
shouldn’t be trying to figure it out by yourself.”

“I need you to trust me more.
Tomorrow I’m going to see Renee, and I imagine I may run into Kate
Onstad. I need you to be okay with that.”

“I wish there was a way around
that.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Can’t you
meet Renee somewhere else? Why don’t you meet at your
studio?”

“This is my job, just like chasing
after criminals is your job. I don’t ask you to give up your job,
and I’m not going to insult my best client by refusing to go to her
home. I can’t believe that Kate Onstad has the strength to load a
crossbow and the skill to kill a man with one.”

“Yeah, her lawyer did point that
detail out to us.” He rubbed his neck. “I’m trying to see this from
your side. All my life, I’ve been told it was my responsibility to
do the right thing and take care of those who were weaker than me,
and I grew up around women who want that protection. It’s that
whole Adam’s rib thing. It’s hard to set it aside.”

“You’re going to have to bend
those principles if you want us to make it, Kentucky Boy.” She gave
him a squeeze. “Let me finish making dinner. Let’s give this a rest
for right now, and you can tell me all about your squirrelly case
while we eat.

Peter forked up the last of his
greens and rice, chewed, swallowed. “The crossbow is a Barnett
Zombie. It’s a serious crossbow with a 175 pound draw. It does take
a lot of practice to handle, especially without a laser sight. We
have the same concern about Kate Onstad, that she’s unlikely to
have the ability to pull off a kill shot, especially if she used
that hunter’s blind. Hard enough to imagine her climbing that tree,
even with the rungs nailed into the trunk. Still, even if she
didn’t do it, she’s attracted the attention of the person who did.
Please be extra careful around her.”

Lia suppressed a smile. “Yes,
Daddy, I promise. What will you do now? Can you trace the bow to
its owner?”

“Crossbows aren’t registered like
guns. We used the serial number and went to the manufacturer. The
owner never registered the warranty but the manufacturer traced the
shipment to a local store, over a year ago. They’re unhappy someone
used one of their bows to kill a person, so they’re reviewing their
records. If it was bought with a credit card, we’ll have
him.

“Since the package cost around six
hundred dollars, it’s unlikely he paid cash. Too bad the sale took
place so long ago. If it was recent, we’d be able to use the time
stamp on the receipt to pick our guy out on the store’s
surveillance videos.

“They had several of this model.
They’ll track down all of them for us, if they can. Then we get to
sweat the guys who bought them, match them against hunters licensed
for the deer cull.”

“You think it was a hunter who did
this?” Lia asked.

“They didn’t buy the bow to kill
George, then wait a year to do it. That doesn’t fly. They had the
wrong arrowheads on the bolts for target shooting. So they bought
it to hunt with. There are a couple hundred bow hunters licensed
for this year’s cull, but only thirty had permits to be in Mount
Airy Forest when George was killed.”

“Thirty is a lot of suspects,
isn’t it?”

“George typically didn’t head for
the park until after nine. Most of these guys were at work and will
have alibis. It’s still plenty to go through, and there’s no
guarantee that our man had a legitimate license for that period.
He’ll show up somewhere on the registry, though. You don’t spend
that much money on a bow unless you intend to use it.”

“What else is happening with the
case?”

“I reviewed Munce’s phone calls.
He was talking to a divorce lawyer, so we’ll need to interview him.
It looks like Munce was planning to be a different kind of
statistic. Enough about work. How did you do today with the
flyers?”

“Bailey and I hung up at least
fifty flyers around the park. I imagine, if Daisy is still there,
she’d be near the picnic areas because that’s where she’d find
people and food. I’m thinking about taking Honey up there and
walking around. Daisy knows her. I’m hoping if she’s still in the
woods, she might smell Honey and come out.”

Peter winced inwardly at the
thought of Lia up near the killing ground. He reminded himself that
the woods were still closed to all hunters as well as hikers,
stifled the impulse to lecture. “That was smart thinking. It might
work.”

“No one we talked to has seen her,
but we’re getting the word out. Someone is going to spot her and
call.”

“What’s this?” Jim asked as Lia
pinned a poster to the bulletin board at the park. Chester sat up
on his haunches in front of Lia. She knelt so that he could give
her a kiss. Viola and Fleece eyed each other, as if to say, “Show
off.” Jealous, Honey leaned against Peter, who was along for his
weekly visit to the dog park. He stroked her head.

“Bailey and I are looking for
George’s dog. You know Daisy, don’t you? Hasn’t Fleece played with
her before?”

“Sure, I recognize
her.”

“We spent yesterday afternoon
putting up posters. There’s so much to do still.”

Jim studied the flyer, scratched
his beard. “What can I do to help?”

“Next on our list is contacting
the rescues. That might be time consuming. You can only get some of
them by email, and with the others, you rarely get a live person on
the line.”

“That’s all right, I’ll take care
of it. Just tell me what to do,” Jim said.

“Great. I’ve got to work today. I
wouldn’t have been able to get going on this until tomorrow
afternoon or later.” She handed him a poster. “Here’s the
information.” Jim folded the poster in quarters with the picture on
the inside, then pulled out a stumpy pencil. Lia listed a number of
rescues he could contact, which Jim wrote on the back of the
poster.

Terry walked up. “Greetings! What’s
the word?”

“The word is that George’s dog got
lost when George was killed and we’re looking for her,” Lia said.
“Would you mind calling around to the vets in the area?”

“The lovely Daisy has gone astray?
I’m happy to help. I can also send a notice to the Northside
newsletter. I’m sure
Bits ‘n’ Pieces
will run it. They may
even do it as a special notice.”

“That’s a great idea. Can you
check the internet for ‘found’ notices, while you’re at
it?”

“Milady, I am at your
service.”

“Thanks, Terry. I owe you one.”
She handed him a poster.

“Lia! Just the person I want to
see.” Jose approached Lia’s table with Sophie ambling at his side.
Sophie walked up to Lia and presented her backside. Lia leaned over
and gave it a good scratch.

“Hitting on my girl, Mitsch?”
Peter was sitting next to Lia with the rest of the group around
them.

Lia elbowed Peter. “Hey, Jose,
what’s up?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that. I know
you carry a gun.” He winked at Lia, then reached into one of the
cargo pockets on his pants and pulled out a phone. He passed it to
her.

“What’s this for? Am I supposed to
call someone?”

“You can call anyone you like, as
soon as you activate it with your number.”

“You’re
giving
it to
me?”

“I got a new one. I thought, I can
trade this one in for next to nothin’, I can mess with selling it
on eBay to some stranger, or I can give it to a friend who doesn’t
have a smartphone. It’s only a first generation Android, but it has
a camera and you can do things you can’t do on the phone you have
now.”

“You mean like playing Draw
Something with Jim while he’s sitting here right next to
me?”

“There’s GPS, taking pictures,
looking up stuff on the internet . . . ,” Jose enthused.

“Spending more money on phone
bills . . . ,” Lia added.

“Butt dialing . . . ,” Bailey
said.

“Well,” Terry said. “The
accidental pocket dial is certainly a danger with older models. I
always carry my phone in a pocket on my vest. It prevents such
mishaps.”

“I’m not going to wear a concealed
carry vest just so I won’t call Peter by accident. I look terrible
in camouflage. Thank you, Jose. This will be fun.”

“Stick it in a cargo pocket,” Jose
said. “That’ll fix it.”

“I don’t know,” Peter said,
rubbing his chin. “Maybe I want her butt to call me.”

“I don’t know what to do, Bailey.”
Lia and Bailey were tossing balls in the back of the dog park. Lia
had Max on a leash to keep her close. Max kept giving her hurt
looks, then walking to the end of her lead, as if she wanted to
chase the balls. Lia knew better. Max would use any excuse as an
opportunity to escape.

“What’s the problem?”

“Peter brought up living together
again. We tabled the subject, but I know he won’t forget
it.”

“You don’t want to wake up every
morning next to that handsome hunk of man-flesh?” Bailey’s amazed
expression made Lia laugh.

“I can do that now, anytime I
want. That’s not the issue.”

“What is it, then?”

“I’m barely surviving as an
artist. I’m only managing because I make sacrifices. If I move in
with Peter, I’ll have to upgrade my standard of living and I’ll
wind up splitting the cable bill. Then it’s no longer feasible for
me to support myself and I wind up financially dependent. I hate
cable.”