Maximum Security (A Dog Park Mystery) (15 page)

Peter decided that expecting Lia to
cook after the ‘little woman’ business the night before was a
dangerous idea and instead offered a trip to Pleasant Ridge for
Ethiopian. Lia enjoyed African cuisine, though they rarely made the
trek across town for it.

An olive branch wasn’t really
called for. They hadn’t exactly had a fight, but they’d certainly
skirted around the edges of one. Still, Peter liked to be proactive
whenever possible.

Lia insisted that they toss the
ball for the dogs for a while before abandoning them for the
evening. Peter tossed, Honey chased the ball, and Chewy and Viola
chased Honey. Max backed up against the lip of one of the wood
steps and ground her sacrum against it. Peter could see where her
fur was worn down. The dog grunted and moaned, producing sound
effects straight out of a cheap porno.

“She’s going to take the paint off
that step if she keeps it up.”

Lia sighed. “It’s either that, or
scratch her myself. I’d rather lose a little paint.”

“You sure there’s nothing wrong
with her?”

“The rescue took her in for a full
physical. They checked for impacted anal glands. I’m afraid she’s
just deviant.”

Peter held a tennis ball up to her
nose. Max sniffed it, then turned back to her grinding. Peter
bounced the ball on the walkway to see if he could engage her
interest. No dice. “Isn’t there anything else she likes? Besides
this?”

“There’s food. Running away.
Finding dead bodies. Speaking of which, how is your dead body
coming?”

“We know where the bow came
from.”

“
You found the
owner of the bow?” Lia asked. “Then that must mean Kate is off the
hook. Have you arrested him yet?”

“Not so fast. He reported it
stolen two days before George died.”

“Maybe he knew he was going to
kill George and just said it was stolen.”

“I don’t think he’s that smart. He
also has an alibi. We still have to check it out, but if we can
verify it, it clears him. And we don’t have a connection between
him and George Munce. Or Kate Onstad.”

“Well, that stinks.”

“One step at a time. Cases aren’t
built in a day. We made progress and that’s important.”

Honey ran back with the ball and
dropped the slobbered orb at Peter’s feet.

Peter stared at the Honey’s
offering. “I bet the Chucker was never intended for throwing balls
further. I bet it was invented so people wouldn’t have to pick them
up covered in dog goo.”

“A big, manly guy like you, afraid
of a little saliva? Chicken.” Lia picked up the ball, tossed it
again, sending the trio rampaging after it. Max just groaned and
grinned sheepishly when Peter and Lia stared at her.

“How is this progress if you don’t
think he did it?” Lia asked.

“It’s still part of the picture.
If he didn’t do it, he was still in the orbit of the perp. So now
we know that our perp not only crossed paths with George, he was
also aware of Kate and knew Stryker kept a crossbow in his
garage.”

“You think it was another bow
hunter?”

“Doubtful. Bows aren’t like guns.
They don’t leave forensic fingerprints so there’d be no reason not
to use his own. Just get some bolts in a brand you don’t use. Buy
them out of town and pay cash for them. We checked Hinkle’s report.
This guy used Stryker’s bolts. Even Stryker isn’t that
dumb.”

“But your perp has to be able to
handle a crossbow. That’s kind of odd, isn’t it? Someone who would
have the skill to use the bow but not own one?”

“True.” Honey brought the ball
back to Peter. This time he picked it up, tossed it, then pulled a
white handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his hand
off.

When the dogs returned, Lia opened
the door and the pack made a mad scramble up the steps and into the
kitchen. She found them milling by the counter where she kept dog
biscuits in a cookie jar.

“Sit,” Lia commanded. Three butts
plopped on the floor. Lia gave Max a stern look. Max turned her
face away and slowly, as if obedience would kill her, lowered her
hindquarters until they barely touched the ground. Lia reached into
the jar and handed each dog a treat.

“That dog is just contrary,” Peter
said. “Do you always give them a treat each time you
leave?”

“Every time. It lets them know I’m
leaving. I like to think it eases any separation anxiety, but I
don't know if that’s true or not.”

They climbed into Peter’s Blazer.
Peter turned on the ignition and put the car in gear. “What do you
think of my truck?”

“What do you mean?”

“Would you rather be riding in
something stylish, like Brent’s A4?”

Lia laughed. “I asked my mechanic
about Brent’s A4 when I took the Black Beauty in for her oil change
last week. He says they’re over-engineered, expensive to fix and
demand frequent dates with their mechanics.

“Stan said, given the choice
between my twenty year old 240 and a brand new A4, he’d take the
240. I bet Brent will begin to rethink his love affair with Celeste
before he’s had her six months. Seriously, don’t you have better
things to do with your money?”

“Well, uh . . .”

“You think I’m going to run off
with the first guy who drives up in an expensive car?” she
teased.

“I was just wondering.” He
shrugged.

“Yeah, it gets me all hot and
bothered, sitting down at Stan’s and drooling over those expensive,
busted cars he works on. I’m just dying to hook up with a guy who
has enough money to burn on one.” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously,
don’t you know me better than that?”

“Uh umm . . .”

“Stan, I might run off with, if it
wasn’t for that wife of his.”

“Excuse me?”

“Except I have you and I don’t
need anyone else. You gonna quit asking me stupid questions,
Kentucky Boy?”

“That wasn’t why I was
asking.”

“No? Why were you
asking?”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal
out of this. Last night you said marriage is about money and
wanting the same things, and there’s a lot of truth to that. My
former fiance dumped me because she figured out my income bracket
would never be up to her standards.”

“Leaving aside
She-who-will-not-be-named, a car’s a car. It gets you where you
want to go. I’m practical about things that involve money. Right
now I have to be, but that wouldn’t change if I had more of it, and
I don’t think it’s your responsibility to provide an endless supply
of it. Did I pass?” She batted her lashes.

“How was your day,
Darling?”

“Do I detect evasive
action?”

“You do.”

“It was fine. Renee oohed and
aahed over the pictures I showed her. She picked the one I like
best, with Dakini’s fur flying and her eyes all wide while her
tongue is hanging out. It’s a bit goofy. Renee wants a big canvas
so it will reign over her den like portraits of Chairman Mao in
China, back in the sixties.”

“Did Renee put it that way? About
Chairman Mao?”

“She did. You know I wasn’t alive
back then.”

“How big is this going to
be?”

“I’ve got to go back to measure
her fireplace to be sure, but I’m thinking three by four feet,
maybe four and a half.”

Lia and Peter sat in a quiet corner
of Emanu Ethiopian Restaurant. Lia tore a bit of injera off the
layers of spongy flatbread lining their platter and used it to
scoop up a bit of stewed vegetables.

“So what’s next with the case?”
she asked, popping the morsel into her mouth.

Peter chewed thoughtfully. “We’re
going to give Stryker a good hard look, make sure the alibi holds
up. Find out where he did his hunting in the woods, who knew about
his bow, ask the neighbors if they’d seen anyone strange around the
neighborhood. If you could call that a neighborhood. We’re not
looking forward to going back.”

“Was it that bad?”

“It’s like another country up
there, isolated from the rest of the city like it is. We’re also
going to continue checking in with hunters to find out who’s been
where in the forest, and what they’ve seen. It’s tedious, but it’s
our best shot at finding a witness. There’s a good chance they
don’t realize what they saw.”

“What about other suspects?
Wouldn’t the wife have a motive?”

“She was at work.”

“She could have gotten someone
else to do it, don’t you think? A hit man or a boyfriend? Couldn’t
she have gotten wind of his plans to divorce her? Maybe she didn’t
want to split the assets. Maybe she felt angry and
humiliated.”

“I don’t think she’s hired anyone.
We went over the family financials a couple days ago. No signs of a
large amount of money being moved. Only a really stupid hit man
would do the job without getting an advance.”

“Or maybe a really smart one who
knew that’s the first place you would look. Maybe someone has some
reason to believe they could count on getting paid.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, I’m just tossing it
out there. Maybe she handed over collateral.”

“What kind of collateral could she
give him?”

“You’re missing a car, aren’t
you?”

Peter nodded thoughtfully. “It
could work. He gets the car as the first part of his payoff, sells
it to a chop shop or otherwise disposes of it.”

“What about a boyfriend? If he was
cheating, she could be cheating, too.”

Peter tried to imagine Monica with
her freckles and her Martha Stewart home ushering the meter reader
in the back door while wearing a neon red negligee trimmed with
dyed marabou feathers. It didn’t play. “We talked to her neighbors,
also her co-workers. We couldn’t find anyone she was especially
close to. No sign of a boyfriend, not that anyone knows about.
According to them, it goes against type.”

“Doesn’t mean there isn’t
one.”

Peter opened the passenger door of
his Blazer for Lia.

“You don’t have to keep doing
that,” Lia said. “My fingers work perfectly fine.”

“I do if I want to sneak a peek at
your ass without you noticing.”

“Men.” She climbed into the truck,
turned, and caught his line of sight. Peter shrugged, whistling as
he walked around the SUV to take the driver’s seat.

“You never mentioned if you saw
Kate Onstad today,” Peter said as he pulled out onto Montgomery
Road.

“She had breakfast with us. She
was so nice. I was afraid she’d hate me for turning her in, but she
was grateful I hooked her up with Renee.”

“Huh.” Peter turned south on Ridge
Road.

Lia turned to look at him in the
darkness. “She told us this story, about how she hooked up with
George the first time, back in high school.”

“Oh?”

“It was very romantic. She gave
him her virginity out in the woods.”

“Really?” Peter gave her a
speculative look.

“You ever make love outside like
that?” she asked.

“A gentleman never tells. Would
you like to?” He took his eyes off the road to gauge her
reaction.

She bit her lip, hesitant. “Well .
. . it’s, I don’t know . . . it’s an interesting
thought.”

He whipped the SUV into the nearest
parking lot and turned around, heading north on Ridge
Road.

“Where are we going?”

“French Park. You keep thinking
about losing your virginity in the woods while I drive.”

“It’s chilly out.”

He patted her thigh as the car
inched over the speed limit. “I’ll warm you up. I promise. Who are
we? Captain of the football team and hot head cheerleader? Hoodlum
and honor student?”

“That’s what they were. He was a
hoodlum, she was studious. Maybe we could go in a different
direction. Tramp and virginal jock who is also an altar
boy.”

“Depends. Do you want to be swept
away or powerful and in control?” He entered the park, drove up the
hill, parked in the lot beside the now vacant caretaker’s
cottage.

“Here? In a parking
lot?”

“Oh, ye of little faith, where is
your trust?”

“I want high school petting rules.
No hickeys on the neck, and you’re going to have to make me
desperate for you before you get to peel any of my clothes off,”
she bargained.

“Why do I have to do all the
work?”

“You’re the gas and I’m the
brakes. Woody Harrelson said so in a movie.”

He grabbed a blanket out of the
back and opened Lia’s door for her. She slid out, into his arms as
he leaned over to kiss her.

She placed an index finger against
his lips. “Not so fast, Kentucky Boy. What’s with the handy
blanket?”

He ducked her finger, nipped her
neck. “Emergency first aid. Shock victims, that sort of thing. But
you can look for semen stains if you like.” Nibbled some more.
“What’s your name tonight? Vanessa? Kelly? Maybe a sweet, wholesome
Sue? Did I get you drunk first?”