Ruff Way to Go (6 page)

“What about
Edith’s other immediate neighbors, Mom? Have you seen much of the Haywoods
lately?”

“No. They’re
exactly the same as they always were—keep mostly to themselves, don’t
seem to go out much, especially now that Harvey’s finally closed his hobby shop
and retired.”

“They should
have heard me call for help. It’s hard to understand how they could have not
heard me.”

“Maybe they
just—as the cliche goes—didn’t want to get involved.”

“That’d be
just like them, all right. But what’s going on these days with their daughters?”

“One lives
right here in Larimer County, I think. The other is married and off in the
Midwest someplace.”

The doorbell
rang. I told Mom to stay put and let me get it, while Sage and Doppler joined
me for my short walk to the front door. Though some work still had to be done
with Sage, Doppler and Pavlov were trained to do a down-stay when I snapped my
ringers and pointed at the floor if I decided I didn’t want them underfoot.
This was one trick they were unlikely to be called upon to use anytime soon.
Until the
killer was in custody, the more dogs surrounding me, the better.

I flipped on
our porch light, though it really wasn’t all that dark outside, and swung the
door open without checking through the peephole. I had to hide my strong
visceral reaction at the sight of Cassandra’s husband. The moment I saw him, I
remembered his name. Paul.

He looked
every inch the stricken man who’d just learned of the loss of his wife. His
shoulders were now so stooped and his posture was so caved in that he seemed to
be no taller than me. He was normally a sturdy looking man of average height.
He had a pale complexion, with thinning, curly dark hair. My heart ached for
the man. I didn’t know him well and, in fact, had only crossed paths with him a
couple of times.

I didn’t know
what to do. Even though I barely knew him, I opened the screen door and put a
hand on his upper arm, gave it a squeeze and said, “Paul, I’m so terribly,
terribly sorry.”

He looked at
me as though he were in a total daze. He wore no coat and was shivering
noticeably in the chilly evening breeze. “Allida. I came back from taking
Melanie and the puppies to the park, and they were here. The...police, I mean.
The sergeant told me she...that somebody had...” He shook his head. “It had to
have been a hideous mistake. Nobody would want to kill Cassandra. Someone must
have assumed it was Edith. Maybe a hired thug, whatever they’re called, who
wouldn’t have known she was the wrong woman.”

“Maybe so,
Paul. I have no idea how or why this happened. How is Melanie?”

He didn’t
answer, blinking as he watched my face, as if he didn’t realize I’d asked him a
question.

“You found
Cassandra, right? That’s what...” He let his voice fade as if his sentence took
too much effort to complete. “Was she already...Did she say anything to you?”

As sincere
as Paul’s heartbreak seemed to be, I’d skated on thin ice enough times as a
child to recognize those same tremors below my feet that I now felt. Cassandra
would have
trusted her husband if he’d told her to meet him at the neighbor’s
house; she might have read that note and stepped into his ambush. Just in case,
I wasn’t going to mention the dog tracks I’d seen nor anything else that might
be construed as my knowing anything important about the murder. “No, she didn’t.
It was too late by the time I got there. I’m so sorry.”

He gave me a
sad nod. “I...don’t mean to...I told the sergeant I was just going to get a
couple of things out of the house. He doesn’t want us staying at our house now.
Even though they searched it already. Our house, I mean. They probably
thought…” He let his voice trail away, and I wondered if he meant that they
thought he might have been responsible for his wife’s death.

“At least
you and your daughter have each other.”

“Yeah, but
without Cassie—” His voice caught. “Then there’s...the dogs. They’re all
back at the animal shelter now. We can’t have them at the hotel with us. And I
don’t know if we’ll ever want to live in this neighborhood again. Not after
this. Besides, he was a criminal. Their former owner was, I mean. Maybe he had
something to do with my wife’s death.”

“I’m sure
that can’t be the case. Cassandra told me today that he was in jail.”

“Yes, but
what if...” He stopped and shook his head. “None of this makes any sense. There’s
no point. I just...I want my wife back. I can’t do this alone. I can’t raise
Melanie by myself. I’m not a good enough parent.”

“Cassandra
told me you were a wonderful father, and I’m sure that’s true.” I was beginning
to yearn for my mother to step in for me. She was so much better with this sort
of thing than I was, and she knew Paul. But I could tell from the sound of
running water through the pipes that she was currently otherwise occupied and
probably couldn’t overhear.

“It was only
because of her.”

I wasn’t
sure what he meant; probably that he was only a good father because of his wife’s
support, but I let it pass.

It struck me
then that a person’s death has a dreadful ripple effect, a passing along of
emotional pain in an ever-growing circle. As much as I detested myself for
feeling this way, I wanted to close the door, not to have to witness Paul’s
agony at his tragic loss. At the same time, I wished I’d been more open and
available to friendship with Cassandra. I would never get the chance now.

“Did Edith
tell you what my wife was doing at her house? When I left with Melanie, Cassie
told me she was going to be making dinner. But she hadn’t even gotten anything
started.”

“What time
was that?”

“I don’t
remember exactly. Sometime after four-thirty, though, because that’s when I got
home. Early. I even came home early today. To see the dogs. If only...”

Finally I
heard my mother’s footfalls coming from behind me. I stepped aside, but Paul,
to my surprise, backed away from the door at the sight of my mother. He made a
small pushing gesture at her and said, “Marilyn. I’ve got to go. I can’t
survive this.”

“Paul. I’m
so sorry.”

Mom ignored
his initial attempts to walk away and reached out for him. Then she held him as
he sobbed in her arms. I had to look away. At least Paul, in his shock and
grief, wasn’t treating me as a suspect. That might change, though, once he’d
had a chance to let this all sink in.

My vision
happened to fall across the street. Trevor Cunningham was parked in front of
his former residence, watching the three of us, as if waiting for our
conversation to finish.

Mom released
Paul from the hug, and Paul pulled himself together enough that it seemed he
would at least be able to drive. As we watched him get into his car, Mom called
out, “Please let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

Meanwhile,
Trevor started to approach Paul, but then froze as Paul held up a hand, said
something under his breath, and drove off. Paul’s words seemed to shake Trevor.
He dropped his chin, his overly long, center-parted hair immediately falling
into his eyes, and his long, pointy nose again giving me that unmistakable
impression of a human silky terrier. The muscles in his jaw were still working
as he headed up our walkway.

He looked up
when he reached our porch, his gaze locking on my mother. “Hello, Marilyn. This
is all so...overwhelming. Tragic. Cassie Randon, of all people. Someone who
would never hurt a fly. You gotta wonder what’s coming to the world.”

Mom nodded. “I
can’t believe it. If you can’t be safe in Berihoud, you’re not safe anyplace.”

“True.”
Trevor Cunningham sent a glance my way, then gave Mom a shake of the head,
followed by a second look at me.

“I suspect
you’re here to speak to my daughter about your dog.”

Trevor
winced and nodded, the long top strands of his hair once again falling forward
into his eyes. He dragged his hair back into place as he spoke. “I...feel
guilty for worrying about Shogun at a time like this, but yes, I am. He hasn’t
shown up yet, has he?”

“No, he hasn’t.
I’m sorry. We’ll keep an eye out for him, though,” Mom said as she went back
into the house, shooting me a look that meant:
Holler for me if you need
support.

I felt a bit
awkward standing outside with a guest on what still felt to me like Mom’s porch
and not my own. “Did you want to come in?” I asked Trevor, half hoping he’d say
no.

He shook his
head. “I’ve only got a minute or two, Allida. I don’t want to be here long
enough to have to cross paths with Edith. The police seem to think I had
something to do with Cassandra’s murder. I didn’t. I swear to you. I went
straight to my office after I left yours and didn’t leave until I came here.”

At least the
police were spreading their innuendos around. “How did you find out?”

“Edith
called me,” he said through an instantly tightened jaw. “She insists that I came
here early this afternoon and kidnapped Shogun, which is just plain nuts.”

I nodded. “If
it’s any consolation, the sergeant acted as though they were suspicious of me,
as well. Maybe that’s just their way.”

Trevor started
to smile as if reassured, then glanced back at his former house cum murder
scene. His eyes had widened with alarm when he faced me again. “You...found the
body, didn’t you?” He took a step away from me, as if suddenly realizing that I
was a possible suspect. Of course,
I
knew better, and his sudden dose of
discomfort around me didn’t mean he was off my list, either.

“Yes. And
Shogun wasn’t there when I arrived.”

“Are you
positive that Shogun wasn’t with Edith when she got back home? Maybe in her car
someplace?”

“No, he
couldn’t have been with her. The officers would have interviewed her, and she
couldn’t have kept the dog hidden away that long.”

He swept
both hands back through his hair that, once again, was trying to fall into his
eyes. “As I see it, there’re only two possibilities. Either Edith did this and
is hiding the dog now for some reason, or somebody killed Cassandra and
kidnapped my little dog.”

“There’s a
third possibility. The gate was left open. Under all the traumatic
circumstances, Shogun might have just run off and hid someplace. If so, he’ll
come back.”

Trevor was
already shaking his head. “He’s not the sort to do that. He always stays within
hearing range of our voices. If you left the gate open while we were gone, he
might go out, but he’d just sit on the front porch.”

“Maybe with
you and Edith separating, though, he wasn’t acting himself.”

Trevor
searched my eyes. “He’s a great little dog, but he’s not a champion show dog or
anything. He’s not worth that much to anybody but me. Why would someone take
him?” he asked as if my previous statement hadn’t registered. “Do you think
they’re maybe going to try to ask me to pay ransom money?”

“No. I just
can’t believe anyone would do that, Trevor. Not when the person might be linked
to the murder. It’d be too risky.”

He nodded,
his shoulders sagging. This was someone who struck me as totally devoted to his
dog. Could I have gotten the scenario correct before, but with the wrong
principal player? Trevor could have come looking for Shogun, found him badly
injured or dead in a fight with Suds, and accidentally killed Cassandra when he
meant to strike down Suds. That was far-fetched, but the very act of murder was
so beyond my comprehension that any explanation would seem “far-fetched” to me.

For obvious
reasons, this was not the theory to volunteer at the moment. “How often has
Shogun been to your new residence, Trevor? If he really did feel closer to you
than to Edith, maybe he’s on his way there now.”

He
brightened a little at that prospect. “He’s been at my condo at least half a
dozen times. Do you think he could find his way all the way there?”

“Maybe.” In
truth, it was only a remote possibility, but certainly not out of the question.
I’d heard of instances where dogs managed to travel hundreds of miles to
reunite with their owners.

Just then,
an avocado-colored Volvo pulled up that I recognized as belonging to Russell
Greene, my officemate. Suddenly our house was turning into Grand Central
Station.

A couple of
months earlier, when I first moved back to Colorado, Russell had rented the
front room of his two-office suite to me. He also had a crush on me, which I
was recently beginning to reciprocate. We’d been out on a couple of dates and
enjoyed each other’s company. We seemed to have considerably different
interests, but he was such a decent, caring person that I couldn’t help but be
attracted to him.

He got out
of the car, smoothing his dark mustache. As always, he was nicely dressed,
wearing dark slacks, a royal blue silk tie, and a striped shirt. He was short,
which made us nicely matched, and had a well-proportioned, compact build. In a
land of midgets, he and I could rule the world, but as it was, people kept
flashing us annoying what-a-cute-couple grins when they saw us together.