The Fashion Hound Murders (17 page)

“Mom, I know you liked Stan, but we broke up tonight.”

“Why?” Jane asked. Josie could see her dreams of a wedding for Josie were smashed. “What’s wrong with him?”

“No sizzle in that steak, Grandma,” Amelia said.

“Amelia!” Josie said.

“Well, it’s true.”

“We’ve heard enough truth,” Josie said. “Tell your grandmother good night and let’s go downstairs.”

Amelia ran in to check on Harry the cat. “He’s asleep on my bed, Mom,” she said. “He hasn’t eaten any dinner.”

“You gave him a lot of food when you got home from school,” Josie said. “Maybe he’s not hungry. And you were chasing him all over the house earlier. He’s probably tired. Cats sleep a lot.”

“I guess,” Amelia said.

Josie took a quick, stinging shower to wash away the bad evening. It didn’t work. Stan had dropped her for a third grade coupon clipper. She’d get over it. Eventually. It was Jerry who really bothered her. Was he really so naive he couldn’t see through Jonah? Or was he a cog in the multi-million-dollar puppy mill? Postal clerks didn’t make that kind of money.

She toweled herself dry, slipped on her robe, and looked in on her daughter. Amelia was in bed asleep with Harry beside her. Her daughter had one small hand on Harry’s huge ears. She seemed to have forgotten Zoe’s cruel critique of her cat. At least it didn’t keep her awake.

Josie wasn’t so lucky. Her bed felt as if it were paved with cobblestones. She kept asking hard questions that she couldn’t answer:

Who was Jerry? If he was such a nice guy, why did he hang around with Jonah? Couldn’t he see the man mistreated puppies and starved his sons? What if Jonah came back and hurt her family? What if Jerry helped him? What had she gotten into, just to make a little extra money?

Chapter 19

“We lost.” Alyce’s voice was soft and sad. Josie could tell her friend was upset. Alyce didn’t bother to say good morning.

“We lost what?” Josie was still foggy from too little sleep and not enough coffee. She tried to focus on Alyce’s phone call.

“The battle for Traci’s pup,” Alyce said.

“What did she do?” Josie asked. It was nine thirty in the morning. It had been a struggle to get Amelia to school. Josie had overslept, then run out of the house without her coffee. She’d never quite caught up, not even after three cups.

“She went over to the dark side and bought a little bichon at that pet store you mystery-shopped,” Alyce said. “Pets 4 Luv. Now Traci wants to come here to show us her new pup. She says she’s still unpacking and her house is a mess.”

“Great.” Josie’s voice was as bitter as her warmed-over coffee. “Traci asked for our advice and then didn’t take it.”

“Please, Josie,” Alyce said, “don’t be rough on her. I’ll fix us a little lunch and we can talk. Could you come here about eleven?”

“Sure,” Josie said. “What can I bring? Wine? Dessert?”

“Would you stop at a dog store—a good one, not that puppy mill place—and bring treats for Traci’s dog?”

Josie swung by the Three Dog Bakery on Ladue Road near the Inner Belt. The long, narrow store featured a display case of artfully arranged dog treats designed to make any human’s mouth water. Josie picked out peanut butter “pupcakes”—dog cupcakes with yogurt icing—and “ruffles”—dog truffles. The ruffles were covered with carob, peanuts, and coconut, like real bonbons.

She arrived at Alyce’s home in Wood Winds before Traci. “These are too pretty for a dog,” Alyce said. She arranged the treats on a little porcelain plate next to a bowl of water.

Traci’s arrival was heralded with a chorus of shrill yaps. Josie and Alyce peeked out the front window and watched her wheel a boxy red stroller up the driveway. The nylon stroller was enclosed with black mesh. Traci unzipped it and gathered a fluffy white dog the size of a powder puff into her arms. The tiny dog wore a zebra-striped sweater, red boots smaller than baby shoes, and a red bow in her hair.

Traci’s outfit matched. She teetered on red high-heeled boots, which set off her own zebra-striped sweater and skinny black jeans. A red belt accented her dramatic figure.

“Well, aren’t you a pair,” Alyce said.

“This is my baby,” Traci said, petting the puppy. “Her name is Snowball. Not very original, but it fits. She’s purebred with the paperwork to prove it. Snowball is a girlie girl and she likes to dress up. I bought us a bunch of matching outfits.”

“Her clothes are cute,” Josie said, trying a small dash of honesty.

“That’s how I got her—through the dog clothes,” Traci said. “I saw they were on sale at Pets 4 Luv and figured it wouldn’t hurt to look. I saw this little outfit that matched my new sweater. Then I saw Snowball. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was my dog. The nice saleslady said, ‘Hold her in your arms. You don’t have to buy her.’

“Snowball felt so warm. She weighs almost nothing and she fit in the crook of my arm. She licked my nose and snuggled. I just had to have her. Please don’t be mad. It’s not my fault I fell in love.”

Traci looked as endearing as her dog.

“We’re not mad,” Alyce said. “We just want you to be happy.”

“Oh, we are,” Traci said. “Snowball is a good dog, even if she acts a little strange.”

“How so?” Josie asked.

“Well, she’s jumpy. She gets scared when the phone rings and she tries to hide.”

“Me, too,” Josie said. Alyce frowned at her and she shut up.

“Last night, I had her with me in the great room,” Traci said. “The voices on the TV nearly drove the poor thing out of her mind. It was like she’d never heard a TV before. She kept looking around for the people. And she walks funny.”

“Is she crippled?” Alyce asked.

“No, watch.”

Traci put the pup on the kitchen floor. Snowball looked puzzled, tottered a few steps in her little red boots, and sat down.

“Maybe it’s the boots,” Josie said.

“No, she doesn’t like to walk even without them,” Traci said. “She has a whole yard to run and play in, but she won’t go outside unless I carry her. I set her down and she sits there. Do you think she’s retarded or something? Can you say that about dogs, or is that wrong?”

“The houses here have big yards,” Alyce said. “Your little dog probably doesn’t feel safe yet in strange surroundings.”

“You’ve barely had her a day,” Josie said. “Maybe Snowball needs to get used to her new life. We just got a cat, Harry. It took a while for him to settle in. He lived under the bathtub until he felt it was safe to come out. Harry is fine now. He and my daughter, Amelia, run wild all over the house. They made such a racket yesterday that I couldn’t talk on the phone.”

“Come sit down in the breakfast room, Traci,” Alyce said. “Bring Snowball with you so she feels secure. Josie brought her some special treats.”

Alyce unfolded a plush throw rug on the Mexican tile floor near Traci’s chair and placed the bowl of water and dish of treats at one end. “These are pupcakes from Three Dog Bakery. And ruffles—doggie truffles.”

“They look so elegant,” Traci said. “And they’re the right size for a little dog.”

Snowball sniffed the treats and began chewing on a pup-cake.

“She eats fine,” Traci said. “So I don’t think anything is too wrong, do you?”

“Eating is a good sign,” Alyce said. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard. We should eat, too. I have lunch and wine for us.”

“Again?” Traci said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t have time to make anything special,” Alyce said. “I threw together a warm salad. It’s Brussels sprouts with roasted chicken.”

“Your ‘nothing special’ is anyone else’s feast,” Josie said.

Traci picked at her salad and kept watching her puppy.

Josie ate every bite. “I thought I didn’t like Brussels sprouts, but these are wonderful,” she said. “Too bad Mom didn’t make sprouts like this.”

“The secret is walnut oil,” Alyce said.

Snowball had finished her food. The puppy was walking in small tight circles no bigger than an old-fashioned LP record.

“That’s something else she does,” Traci said. “I think it means she’s nervous.”

“Maybe she needs to see a vet,” Josie said.

“I don’t know any doctors around here,” Traci said.

“I don’t have pets,” Alyce said. “But I’ll be happy to call around the subdivision for you and find out where the neighbors take their dogs.”

“I have the name of a vet who makes house calls,” Josie said. “He’s supposed to be good, but I haven’t used him yet. It might be less scary for Snowball if the vet came to your house. I still have his cards.” She dug in her purse for one of the cards Nedra had given her that day at the Humane Society.

“I don’t know what he charges,” Josie said.

“I don’t care,” Traci said. “If I have money for dog clothes, I have money to get my baby well.”

“The vet’s fans call him Dr. Ted,” Josie said. “Maybe if Snowball doesn’t perk up soon, you could call him in a day or two.”

“I’m calling him now,” Traci said. “If something is wrong, it’s better to know right away, so we can fix it. If Snowball is okay, I’ll quit worrying. I’ve never had a puppy before, so I don’t know how they’re supposed to act. At least my puppy came with a guarantee.”

“What kind?” Josie said. “Is it a certificate of health? Will the store pay her vet bills if she gets sick?”

“Let me see,” Traci said. “I didn’t really read it through. I was so excited, I just dropped it in my purse. It’s still in there. Heck, Jimmy Hoffa is probably buried in that purse.”

Traci opened a fashionable bag the size of a laundry bag. She pulled out an envelope covered with hearts and paw prints. “That’s what Pets 4 Luv gave me. These are Snowball’s AKC papers, plus a coupon for dog food. Ah, here’s the guarantee. It says—oh, no.”

The blood drained from Traci’s face, until she was whiter than Snowball. All Josie saw were those bright red lips, as if Traci were bleeding. She read the guarantee slowly, like someone in pain: “‘If your pedigreed puppy dies within thirty days of purchase, Pets 4 Luv will replace it with another dog, free of charge.’ ”

Two tears trickled from Traci’s eyes, leaving a black mascara trail. She picked up her little dog and hugged Snowball until she yelped. “I don’t want another puppy,” Traci said. “I want this one. And I want her to be well.”

Chapter 20

“Something is wrong with Harry,” Amelia told her mother. “He won’t play. He just kind of lies there.”

Amelia tugged on her dark hair, the way she did when she was worried, until it stuck out.

Josie smoothed it back into place. “He’s a cat, honey. They don’t do much, period. You’ve only been home from school a few minutes. Give him time.”

“But he likes to jump around and chase ribbons. Yesterday we ran down the hall. Now he won’t move. He’s not eating. I gave him breakfast and he hasn’t touched any of his food all day. And he’s not using his litter box.”

Uh-oh. Josie knew this could be bad news. What if Harry really was sick? More heartbreak for Amelia.

“Where is Harry?” Josie asked.

“Sitting on my bed.”

Harry was curled up on the flowered spread. He didn’t jump off when Josie came into the room. He sat there and stared at her. Was the cat getting used to her, or was he too sick to move? The little brown and black striped animal looked like a bundle of tree roots and shadows on the flowered spread. Josie marveled at the artistry of his design. He permitted her to scratch his soft fur in a circular motion. Josie talked to Harry, telling him how handsome he was, as she examined his skin for wounds or rashes. His coat looked healthy. His green eyes were clear.

But his huge ears, which normally moved at every sound, drooped and were still. Harry looked okay, but felt listless.

“He seems all right,” Josie said. “But if he isn’t better in a day or so, I’ll call the vet.”

“Okay.” Amelia dragged out her answer to let her mother know she wasn’t happy with that decision. “I’ll go e-mail Grandpa the picture of Harry and me.”

“He’ll like that,” Josie said. “Grandpa knows about cats. Ask him if Harry needs a vet.”

Amelia went to her computer. Josie poured herself more coffee and sat on her new couch. It must be my day for ailing animals, Josie thought, as she sipped another cup. She and Alyce had spent half an hour with the weeping Traci. Finally, Alyce’s colorful new neighbor had packed her little dog into its stroller and rolled her home. Traci said she would call the vet, Dr. Ted. She’d left more than three hours ago, and there was no word from her yet.

What if Harry was really sick? Josie wondered. Where am I going to get the money to save Amelia’s cat? Vet bills can be almost as expensive as human medical bills. And I owe her school a thousand dollars. Well, I don’t care. Harry is worth it. He brought Amelia back to life after her father’s murder. I’ll do what it takes to get him well, even if I have to sell my new couch.

Josie gave her beige couch a loving pat on its fat bolster. This was the only decent couch she’d ever had. It looked new. She liked its soft, simple style. That should make it easy to resell. Mrs. Mueller might buy it to prevent the shame of a yard sale on her street. I can ask Stan to haul the sofa outside once more, for old time’s sake. Too bad that old wreck of a couch is gone. I could have slipcovered it.

Josie felt better once she’d decided to make the ultimate sacrifice for her daughter. That’s when Amelia came into the living room carefully balancing a pile of crumpled bills and change in her hands. A nickel slid off and rolled onto the rug.

“What’s that?” Josie asked.

“It’s all my money,” Amelia said, putting it on the coffee table. “We don’t have cat health insurance. I saved three hundred eleven dollars and twenty-two cents. You can have it to make Harry well. I know you worry about money a lot.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to spend your own money.” Josie blinked back tears. Amelia guarded her stash of birthday and Christmas money the way a miser clung to his gold. She had more in her savings than Josie did.

“If Harry needs a vet, I’ll get him one,” Josie said. “The money will come from somewhere.”

“We can’t get it from Grandma. She hates cats,” Amelia said.