Seed No Evil (3 page)

“Y
ou found Bev's body?” I whispered back to my mom, motioning for Marco to join me. “Where?”

“At the shelter. I was the only other person there,” Mom explained in a hushed voice. “It was awful. Poor Bev. But I'll tell you all about it when you get here. The police want to question me again. Hurry, Abigail. I'm nervous.”

“Mom, if you think the police are harassing you, don't answer their questions. Remind them that Dad was a cop on the force, and if that doesn't do the trick, tell them you want an attorney, okay?”

“If you think that's necessary.”

“Trust me on this, Mom. Remember, I clerked for a public defender, and by the way, if you want me to call Dave, I'm sure he'd be willing to come down to the station right now.”

“What's happening?” Marco asked.

I covered the phone. “Beverly Powers is dead. Mom found her body, and now she's at the police station answering questions.”

Marco already had his car key in his hand. “Let's go.”

“Okay, Mom, we're on our way. Should I call Dad and let him know what's going on?”

“Not yet, honey. Better let me tell him when I get home.”

My father, retired sergeant Jeffrey Knight, had been a cop on New Chapel's force for twenty-four years when a drug dealer shot him during a pursuit. The subsequent surgery to remove the bullet had gone badly, leaving my dad paralyzed and for all practical purposes wheelchair-bound. I was devastated, as was my mom, but my dad was stoic about it. He made the best of his life, setting an example for my two brothers and me. But back to the situation at hand, Mom was right. Better to tell Dad after the fact.

I ended the call and hurried out to Marco's car, where we took off for the five-minute drive to the police station. At the station, I found my mom sitting on a bench, looking pale and upset.

She sprang up as soon as she saw us and came forward to give me a hug, holding on tight for a long time and then stepping back with a heavy sigh. Her worry line was deeper yet, and her eyes troubled. “The police officer said I could go home, but I have to make myself available to come back down for further questioning. They fingerprinted me. Can you believe it?”

“I'm sorry you have to go through this, Mom,” I said. “It's traumatic to see a dead body, especially when it was someone you know.”

“Let's talk in the car,” Marco said, and put his arm around her to escort her to the Prius.

We tucked Mom in the passenger seat and I slid in the backseat, leaning forward to talk to her. “Start from the beginning.”

“Oh, let me think. I'm so distraught, it's hard to focus.”

“Explain to Marco what you do at the shelter,” I said.

Starting with a routine description seemed to help. “Every day after closing time at five o'clock, two volunteers sort through and distribute boxes of donated supplies to the various pet wards and play with the kittens and puppies to socialize them. On Mondays, that's Susan O'Day and me. Then around six thirty, we check to be sure all the cages are shut and the security lights are turned on, and we leave.”

“Volunteers are in charge of locking up?” Marco asked, clearly surprised.

“That's the system. Today Susan couldn't make it, so I just concentrated on distributing supplies and playing with the kittens. Bev Powers was there when I arrived, and she told me not to bother locking up because she had work to do and would handle it when she was done. She asked me to let her know when I was leaving. So after I finished with the kittens, I checked the cages in the cat ward, then went into the back hallway where the administrative office is. I called her name, but she didn't respond, so I looked around in the office. Her purse was there, but she wasn't.

“I finally went to the dog ward and looked inside. I noticed that two cages at the back were empty. That was strange because I knew that the dog ward was full beyond capacity. The whole shelter is overflowing with animals. So I walked farther into the ward, and that's when I realized that those particular cages housed our red-zone dogs—animals that are considered dangerous and, in a regular shelter, might have been put down. We're a no-kill shelter, so the staff attempts to rehabilitate red-zone dogs. Then I noticed that the small doors at the back of those two cages were open. Those doors let the animals out into the exercise pen.

“I knew all dogs were supposed to be inside at night, so that concerned me. I tried calling the dogs, but there was so much barking going on, they didn't hear me. So I got a dog treat for each one and placed it inside the cage, then knelt down and whistled. I could see the dogs outside pacing nervously and sniffing at what looked like a mound of clothing—and then I saw it had legs!

“I called the police and they came right over, as did the veterinarian who helps care for the animals. He used a tranquilizer gun to drop the dogs; then I let the police inside the exercise pen. You can imagine my shock when I finally got a look at the body.” She let out a shaky breath. “Poor Bev!”

“Mom, you're getting paler by the moment. Marco, let's stop at Starbucks and get her some iced tea.”

“No, dear,” Mom said. “I just want to go home. I'll get something to drink there.”

We took her home and explained the situation to my dad while Mom changed into a soft robe and made herself a cup of chamomile tea. By the time she sat down on the sofa with us, she looked a little better, although her hands were still shaking.

“There was no reason for Bev to be inside that exercise pen, Jeffrey,” Mom said to Dad. “Nor was there a reason for those two dogs to be let out of their cages after hours. It seems obvious to me that someone did it deliberately. Bev has certainly made enough enemies.”

“From what you've described,” Marco said, “it has to be someone who had access to the shelter and knew Bev was there.”

Mom set her cup down with a clatter. “That could be me! She and I were there alone.”

“You merely found the body, Maureen,” Dad said, taking her hand in his. “Put that out of your mind.”

I knew he was trying to reassure her. It wasn't possible to think the police would believe my mom could harm anyone, yet I knew better. Anyone connected with Bev's death would be on the suspect list until they were ruled out. With no eyewitnesses, no one to prove Mom had been in the cat ward, she'd be a suspect for sure.

“Did you hear the cops call it a homicide?” Marco asked.

“No. They were talking in hushed voices. But Bev knows—knew—animals. There's no reason she would have released dangerous dogs into the pen, then gotten in there with them.”

“So,” I said, “let's think this through. Sometime after everyone except you and Bev had gone for the day, someone forced Bev into the pen with the red-zone dogs while you were busy in the cat ward. But how and why?”

“Was it Bev's habit to be at the shelter at closing time on any other days?” Marco asked.

“I couldn't tell you, Marco,” Mom said. “I'm there one day a week. But here's what I know about the shelter. Bev's sister, Stacy Shaw, is the manager, a position she assumed nearly a year ago to turn the shelter around because it had been mismanaged. Unfortunately, the town council is still getting a lot of complaints, but now they're about Stacy.”

“What kind of complaints?” I asked.

“That the animals continue to suffer from the poor conditions. Bev has been responding to those complaints by stopping by frequently to see that everything is running smoothly.”

“Has it made a difference?” Marco asked.

“Maybe a little bit,” Mom said. “But the two main problems are lack of space and lack of adequate staff, and that can be solved only by more donations to PAR.”

“Or by changing the no-kill policy,” Dad added.

“Unfortunately, you're right, Jeff,” Mom said. “The latest rumor is that Dayton Blaine is the one pushing for a policy change. She supposedly has the board on her side, as well as Stacy Shaw, and it was only Bev who was resisting. With her gone, I don't know what will happen.”

“How could she have prevented a change?” I asked. “The board sets policy.”

“Since Bev's no-kill stance was reported in the newspapers, she's been wildly applauded by the voting public,” Mom explained. “That's her political muscle. Dayton would have had to convince Bev to change her mind, which would mean she'd have to persuade the members of PAR that it was in everyone's best interests, including the animals', to adopt the new policy. I'd heard the matter was going to be up for a vote at tonight's meeting. I'll have to call one of the other PAR members to find out what happened. I'm praying that they tabled the matter until the next meeting.”

“Explain again who locks up at night,” Marco said.

“Here's the normal procedure,” Mom said. “At five o'clock, two volunteers come in and the staff members leave, locking the door that the public uses. It's up to the volunteers then to make sure everything else is locked up tight before they go home, which can be anywhere from six to seven o'clock.”

“That sounds like a risky way of running things,” Marco said.

“Actually, it's worked well for years,” Mom said. “Naturally, the volunteers are trustworthy or Stacy wouldn't accept their help. She insists that all applicants are screened, and anyone who is accepted has to take a two-hour class on how to work with the animals.”

“So tonight it was just you?” I asked.

“Right.”

“When did your partner call off?” I asked.

“This morning. Susan suffers from migraines, and today was a migraine day.”

“Was Bev's sister at the shelter at closing time?” Marco asked.

“Stacy was just leaving when I got there,” Mom said.

“So we have Stacy leaving at five,” I said, “the staffers leaving at five, and you preparing to leave around six thirty. Sometime in that hour and a half, Bev was killed. Did the cops mention how she died?”

“Not that I heard.”

“Did you see the rest of the staff leave at five o'clock?” Marco asked.

Mom shook her head. “Only Stacy, whom I saw heading out the door.”

“Did you hear any unusual noises while you were working?” Marco asked. “Were the dogs barking more than usual?”

“The dogs bark all the time, and the cat ward is some distance away, so I don't really notice that noise unless I'm in that part of the shelter.” Mom paused for a sip of tea. “The cats and kittens meow a lot for my attention, and they're what I was focusing on.” She glanced at my dad and sighed. “I'm exhausted, Jeff. What a horrible night, and I can't get the image of Bev's body out of my mind.”

“How about if I make you a hot toddy, Mo?” Dad asked. “That should put you right to sleep.”

“Let's take off, Abby,” Marco said, rising. “We should let your mom rest.”

“What will happen next?” Mom asked, as she walked us to the front door.

“You'll probably be called back to the station for another interview,” Marco said. “And don't be alarmed if the police label you a person of interest. Once they check you out, you'll be off their list. You might want to have an attorney present just for your own peace of mind.”

Mom gave Marco a hug. “Thank you. My biggest concern now is what the board is going to do about the no-kill policy. You'll still look into that, won't you?”

“You bet,” I told her. “I don't want to see the policy changed, either.”

“Were you and Bev friends?” Marco asked.

“Not really,” Mom said. “Bev didn't have any close friends, just some hangers-on. I don't like to speak ill of the dead, because she did work hard for PAR, but she was a loudmouthed bully who caused a lot of people to leave the organization. I put up with her because I love helping animals. The bottom line is that Bev was not a nice person.”

“You didn't say that to the cops, did you?” I asked.

Mom picked at a thread on her sleeve. “I might have said something along those lines.”

Great. Mom was the last one to have seen Bev alive, and she'd made disparaging remarks about her. My antennae were up and waving, but I said nothing until we were on our way to the car.

“Marco, I think we should investigate, and before you say anything, here's why. One, Mom was there alone with Bev and, as such, was the last one to see her alive. Two, it sounded like Mom made it clear to the police she wasn't a fan of Bev's. Three, if we don't, Mom will worry even more and she'll never get back her creative edge. Four, I'd rather have to sell her art projects than hear her complain about not being able to make them, and five, if it's true about the change in the no-kill policy—”

“You don't have to convince me this time, Abby. I agree that we need to step in quickly and find out what happened for both of your parents' sake. Plus, we have a wedding coming up, and I don't want this to cast a shadow on it.”