Maximum Security (A Dog Park Mystery) (21 page)

“A dead body.”

“Well, there was that.”

Lia turned from the stove, her
mouth gaping. “No!”

“Of a sort. He makes his own
predator lure by closing up a raccoon carcass in a five gallon
bucket with water until the remains liquify. Then he adds coyote
urine for good measure.”

“Ugh! Kitchen? Food? Did you have
to tell me that when we’re about to eat? Hand me the
spinach.”

Peter handed her a bag of
pre-washed, organic spinach. She dumped enough to loosely fill the
pot, then began stirring it so it would wilt without scorching. She
lowered the heat and placed a lid over the greens. “Okay,
fish.”

Peter handed her two foil packets,
each containing a marinated tilapia fillet. She placed these into
the boiling quinoa and covered it.

“Sorry about that. We found a
slim-jim, which explains how he broke into Onstad’s rental car.
There were more than a dozen cases of beer from his old place of
employment. We suspect he got those by illegal means. We’re passing
that tidbit along to their security people. We took one of his
whiskey bottles. We’ll compare that with the sample I took from the
tree stand, to see if they match. The shocker was Munce’s burner
phone. He claimed he bought it off some kid, but you know how that
goes.”

“So Stryker did it? We were so
sure Monica was behind it all.”

“You never know. It wouldn’t be
the first time two disgruntled spouses got together to solve a
problem. But I doubt they ever met each other.”

“Jim and Terry will be so
disappointed. They were both chomping at the bit to pay a
condolence call on the Widow Munce. Jim was going to bake her a
cake.”

“Were they going to seduce a
confession out of her? Was Jim going to put truth serum in that
cake? I don’t know what you expected to find out.”

“You have to admit there’s
something strange about Monica. Can you put the silverware out? I’d
like some water, too, please.”

“Strange isn’t murderous,” Peter
called from the table. “Leave the woman alone. She doesn’t need any
more grief right now.”

“She’s guilty of something. I know
she’s covering something up.”

“Like what?” Peter asked,
amused.

“I don’t know, but now she’s
perfectly polite to me. I can feel all this tension underneath.
It’s not natural. And her daughter is angry about something.” Lia
pulled the quinoa off the stove and removed the now-steamed packets
of tilapia. She dished them up, along with the quinoa and
greens.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. She’s
a teenager. Teenagers are always mad about something. That looks
great. Much better than the sandwich I had planned.”

“So, what’s next? Is that it?” Lia
asked.

“Not quite. We've got to tie the
case up. He claims the neighbors saw him out working on his car all
day, but I bet there was enough time for him to slip away. It
shouldn’t be too hard to break his alibi and figure out how he got
down off that hill without his car. We hope to wrap it up tomorrow.
Then maybe I can stop working so late. Have you decided what you
want to do for your birthday?”

“No, I haven’t. Really, you don’t
need to go to any trouble.”

“Uh-uh. With this case winding
down, I won’t have to work this weekend unless a new corpse shows
up. I want to do something fun. Your birthday is just the
excuse.”

“So I’m just a pretext for
you?”

“In this case, yes.”

“Pig.”

“That’s
Monsieur Couchon
to
you.”

“I see in the newspaper, they
arrested William Stryker for George’s murder,” Jim announced. “It
said he was once married to a woman who works at Dollar
Hut.”

“So we were totally off base?”
Bailey asked.

“Looks like it,” Lia
said.

“Alas, my skill at ratiocination
will not be put to the test,” Terry said.

Lia turned to Jim. “I hope you
didn’t make that cake yet.”

“I was going to bake it this
morning. I might do it anyway.”

“Do they know why he did it?”
Bailey asked.

“They’ve got some ideas.” Jim
said. “But he isn’t talking. According to the paper, he had
George’s phone and he owned the bow. That’s open and
shut.”

“Murder by crossbow. A truly
Medieval act,” Terry said. “Did you know, a soldier could be
trained to use a crossbow in less than a week? Whereas a longbow
archer has to start practicing by the age of ten, and train
continuously to keep up their skill. A good long-bowman can fire
ten arrows for every one a crossbowman shoots, and the range of the
longbow far exceeds that of the crossbow.

“One pope banned the use of
crossbows against Christians. You could only use them against
Pagans and other nonbelievers. I have a vague recollection of a
prof mentioning a Medieval pope who forbade the clergy from drawing
the sword in battle. He said this led to an inventive bishop coming
up with the flail.

“Now the flail, that’s a
weapon–”

“Terry? What does the flail have
to do with anything?” Bailey asked.

Terry shrugged. “It’s just
interesting, that’s all.”

“Look who’s pulling in. Isn’t that
Kate’s car?” Jim nodded toward the boulevard.

Kate walked through the parking lot
with Max on the long training lead. She was walking at heel, alert
to Kate’s every move. The group stared as the pair advanced to the
service road, then disappeared from view as the road curved behind
the rise. Kate reappeared when she reached the picnic shelter. Max
was still heeling, still focused on Kate. She waved at the group in
the large park before entering the small side.

“I’ve got to see this,” Lia said.
She called to Honey, Viola and Chewy and headed for the
gate.

“Hey, there,” Lia called from the
outside of the small park. Max was dutifully following Kitty around
in big circles. “Who is that you have with you, and what have you
done with my dog?”

Kitty laughed. “Come on in,” she
yelled.

Lia entered the little park and her
trio dashed forward to greet Max. Max looked up at Kitty, then
raced to the end of her lead. The women walked over to the picnic
table and climbed on.

“We saw Max walking with you. I
can’t believe it’s the same dog. What did you do to
her?”

“Renee explained to me that with a
strong-willed or highly distractible animal, you have to find out
what motivates them and offer them something they want
more.”

“What are you giving her? Doggie
crack?”

“That’s what Renee calls it.”
Kitty pulled an ugly brown lump out of her pocket and said, “Max
come!” Max stopped sniffing Honey and raced to them. She sat,
watching Kitty with an expectant look on her face. Kitty handed her
the lump. Max snarfed it down and thumped her tail on the ground,
hoping for more.

“What is that stuff?”

“Dehydrated liver.”

“That explains it,” Lia said.
“Kitty, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“The police have cleared you,
haven’t they? Why are you still hanging around?”

Kitty sighed. “I guess I’m not sure
what to do with myself. I took a leave of absence from work when I
came up here to see George. If things went well between us, I was
going to look into a new job and a place to live.”

“You were willing to leave your
friends and your job and your life for him?”

“When you’ve lived without love as
long as I have, it gives you a different perspective on what’s
important. George brought something special into my life, something
I hadn’t had since the night we met. I wasn’t foolish enough to
quit my job on his promises, but I was willing to be open to the
idea that what he offered was real.”

“What about his wife?”

“Naturally I didn’t feel good
about breaking up a marriage. George rarely talked about Monica,
but I’m convinced their marriage was already broken before we met
again. That thing I was missing, George was missing it, too. He
broke his wedding vows with me, but I think she broke faith with
him first by not being a true wife. She may have kept things
together on the outside, but that internal bond was missing. I
don’t believe she ever thought of him as anything but someone to
keep up appearances with.”

“Why do you suppose he married
her?” Lia asked.

“From what little I know, Monica
represented a normal life to him. Very ‘Ozzie and Harriet.’ It took
him a long time to realize it was all surface. I was married, once,
to someone who slowly squeezed the life out of me. I’m now
convinced he never really knew me and never cared to. It was a very
empty life.”

Lia sighed. “Can I tell you a
secret?”

“Certainly, Dear. Sometimes it’s
so much easier to confide in a stranger.”

“Peter wants us to get more
serious, but I’m scared of exactly what you’re talking about. I
don’t want to make that kind of mistake. How do you tell if it’s
going to work?”

“I’m no expert, but I did a lot of
thinking after I got my divorce. I think time is your best ally in
figuring that out. Too many people get married before they discover
what the other person is all about. You’ve got to wait until the
stars fall off your eyes. A good relationship strengthens over
time, while a poor one shows its flaws. People either grow together
or they grow apart. It’s important to look to yourself as well. I
had some very immature, Cinderella notions when I got married. It’s
important to make sure you understand your own motives.”

“That’s it? Just wait?”

“Just time,” Kitty agreed, “and
keeping your eyes open.”

“Thanks.” Lia paused, considering
Kitty’s words. “What are you going to do now?”

“I thought I’d spend today taking
Max around to the other parts of the park, like you did with Honey.
If Daisy is still in the woods, she might come to me. It gives me
something to do, and Max enjoys the exercise.”

“What about your trip?”

“I’m not due home for a few more
weeks. I’d like to stay long enough to understand what really
happened. I want to be more settled about everything before I
go.

“I understand they arrested
someone yesterday. The paper said he was once married to one of the
women who worked for George, and that George helped her get her
divorce. Do you know anything about it?”

“Only that,” Lia said.

“He must be a very angry
man.”

“I hear banjos, and I’m outta
here,” Brent said as Peter knocked on the door. Peter did not have
time to reply before the door swung open.

Brian Dempsey was not what they
were expecting. The yawning man stood five-eleven and was a touch
stocky. Peter judged him to be in his mid-thirties. His hair was
short, about one-half inch long, and he had a day’s growth of
beard. He wore sweat pants and a tee shirt. His clothes were clean.
His eyes were intelligent. They held none of the bleariness of
chemical pursuits, none of the animal cunning of the base criminal
element Peter had been anticipating.

His expression was polite and
relaxed. It occurred to Peter that he had heard no mad scramble to
hide a bong or stash. He peered around Brian. What he could see of
the living room was tidy.

“Brian Dempsey?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m Detective Dourson and my
partner is Detective Davis. We’re making inquiries about one of
your neighbors, Bill Stryker. Do you know him?”

“More than I want to. Why do you
ask?”

“We’re looking into events that
happened the morning of October seventh. Were you around
then?”

“
The seventh?
That was a Monday, wasn’t it?” He pulled a smart phone out of his
pocket, clicked on a calendar icon. He yawned again, displaying
well-tended teeth. “Sorry, I work nights. Monday, I don’t have any
classes until two. That day I had an eight o’clock dental
appointment, so I got home from work around six-thirty. I had
breakfast, left again around seven-thirty, came back around
nine-thirty. I leave for school at one-thirty on my late
days.”

“Where do you go to
school?”

“Cincinnati State.” Another yawn.
“I study electronics.”

“
Did you see
Stryker that morning?” Brent asked.

Brian rubbed the back of his neck,
frowning while he thought. “Not when I came home, not when I left
for the dentist. When I came back, he was outside, working on his
truck. I went in, slept until one. When I got up, I could hear him
swearing from inside my living room. He was still at it when I left
for class.” He nodded at Bill Stryker’s old F-150. “Swearing and
banging on the undercarriage. That truck has interesting
ancestry.”

“He work on it often?” Brent
asked.

“More often than not.”

“Did you look outside at any time
between nine-thirty and one-thirty?” Peter asked. “We’re wondering
if Stryker was there all morning, or if he might have left for a
while.”