The Telltale Turtle (The Pet Psychic Mysteries) (6 page)

Charlie was downstairs in the clinic. He was holding the beagle puppy that jenny had pronounced fit to go home that morning. The puppy had sustained some scratches and bruises. Jenny was giving Charlie last-minute care instructions before they left the clinic.

"Mr. Dowd has decided to adopt the puppy he brought in," Jenny told her. "Makes you want to throw a party, doesn't it?"

"Wonderful" Mary Catherine, for once, refused to be impressed. She couldn't imagine what he was up to, but now she knew her cousin wanted to buy the building. Everything he did seemed suspect to her.

"I'm going to name him Sam, for Sam Spade, the private eye."

She waved her hand in dismissal. "He says his name is Baxter. But people rarely know their pet's true names anyway."

"Baxter?" Charlie glanced at the puppy. "He told you his name is Baxter?"

"Yes. He also told me what happened to him, so you're in the clear on that anyway"

"That's amazing!" He stared at her for a few minutes. "Look, I'm sorry about snooping through your papers. There wasn't anything there anyway. I was just curious."

"Curious?"

"How someplace like this stays in business." He glanced around the clinic. "Now I know. You foot the bills."

"Not entirely. We get donations. It works out." She looked at Jenny, who raised her eyebrows and frowned. "I have to go to work. I'll see you later."

"Mary Catherine," Charlie called her name as she walked out of the clinic.

The way he said her name gave her goose bumps. Baylor reminded her that her goose bumps usually led to nasty circumstances that left her with nothing but fond memories. He didn't want to be part of that cycle. She hushed him. She wasn't pleased to notice how Charlie's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled or that she liked the sound of his voice. "What is it, Mr. Dowd?"

"Please call me Charlie. Can't we get past the bad start we've had?"

Baylor meowed and walked past her to the car. She knew he was right. It wouldn't do to think of this man in a romantic sense. She wished she was beyond those kinds of thoughts, but clearly one never quite got beyond them. All she could do was try to ignore them and focus on something else. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Look, I was only doing my job last night. But I came back for the puppy, didn't I? Doesn't that earn me some respect?"

"Not really." She cut him dead. "Excuse me. I'm late for work."

He stood by as she got into her red and black convertible Mini Cooper. Baylor jumped into the back. She didn't look at Charlie, but her hand trembled as she turned the key to start the engine. It made a clicking noise, then nothing. She tried again. Nothing.

"Problem?" he asked as she got out of the car.

"It won't start." She glared at him. "You didn't do something to it, did you?"

He looked hurt. "Why would I?"

"I don't know. But it was fine yesterday." She glanced at her watch. "I'll have to call a taxi."

"Let me take you to the station," he offered.

Her eyes narrowed at the same time that Baylor's did. "That's a little coincidental, isn't it?"

"I don't know. But my Suburban is right here. Your car isn't working. I feel like I owe you one. Let me drive you there."

Baylor shook his head, but she accepted. "All right. But if I find out you did something to my car to make this happen-"

"I'll ignore the threat since I'm innocent. Just like last night when you thought I'd hurt the puppy to talk to you." He opened the passenger door on the white Suburban for her. "I happen to be at the right place at the right time a lot. It's my gift. You're a psychic. You must believe in that sort of thing."

Baylor jumped in after her and sat at her feet, hissing when Charlie moved. Ignoring his dire warnings, Mary Catherine settled Tommy's carrying box on her lap while Charlie put Baxter on a blanket in the backseat.

"What's in the box?" he asked after getting behind the steering wheel.

"A turtle."

"You deliver pets too?"

"I'm taking this one to the police. He's part of a murder investigation."

"Really?" He pulled out into traffic on River Street. "The one I read about in the paper today. You found the body."

"Yes."

"And the police think the turtle killed the woman?"

"No" She rolled her eyes. "They think there might be a fingerprint or something on him that will help them find the killer. They don't know where else to look. I'm taking him to be sure they don't abuse him." "

I see."

"What does that mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Just making conversation. Ferndelle Jamison was well thought of in Wilmington. She was also loaded. Her family has been here so long, the fortune was probably founded on pirate booty."

I still don't think that makes her nephew the killer."

"Is that what the police think?"

Mary Catherine knew she'd said too much. "I don't know. Baylor thinks so."

"Your cat, right?" Charlie glanced down at her feet. "I read about you last night on the Internet. You've had a remarkable life."

Not sure if that was a compliment or a criticism, she ignored the remark, looking out of the window at the shops that were opening along the river as they passed. A few doors down from the clinic there was a small bookstore with the most wonderful atmosphere. She loved to go there with Baylor and sit on the floor and read. The other side of the street paralleled the river, where the U.S.S. Wilmington battleship laid at anchor as a permanent memorial.

"I've lived here all of my life," he continued. "I worked as a police detective for ten years. But I love having my own business. It's great"

"Looking through other people's windows and snooping through their personal papers?"

"Mostly." He didn't seem embarrassed to admit it. "There's the occasional insurance fraud case or a lost and found kind of thing. Wilmington isn't a big town. We don't get many made-for-TV cases here."

"That sounds fascinating."

"I was wondering if you might consider collaborating with me on a case.

She stared at him. "Why would I do that?"

"No reason, I guess. But I know a few people on the job. I might be able to get them to ease up on the turtle." "

I think I can handle that, thanks anyway."

"I'd pay you." "

I don't need your money. I don't know who you think I am, but-"

"You could prove to me that you really can talk to animals."

"I don't need to prove that to anyone, Mr. Dowd." They reached the radio station and she opened the car door. "Thanks for the ride."

"Mary Catherine!" He jumped out of the SUV and waited for her to come around with Baylor and Tommy. "I'd like to buy you lunch. You could make sure I'm doing a good job taking care of Baxter. I've never had a dog before."

She looked up at him, hating that she was softening toward him with no particular reason whatsoever. Baylor meowed in disgust and left her to stand by the door to the coffee shop. "I don't know why I'm doing this ..."

"Great!" He squeezed her hand. "I'll pick you up after you and the turtle talk to the police. You won't regret it."

She watched the white truck drive away before turning to go into Port City Java. "I don't want to hear it from you," she told the cat, who walked in before her. "You tried to claw your way out through a window to reach that little Siamese who kept calling to you! We all have our weaknesses."

She was prepared to explain everything to Colin when she got to the office, but he wasn't there. A large crowd of assistants and talk show hosts were gathered around the TV in the WRSC lobby.

"The police questioned Colin Jamison today in the death of his aunt, Ferndelle Jamison. The well-known society matriarch was found dead in her Market Street home on Tuesday. A large insurance policy and a family fortune with Colin Jamison as the only heir may be the motive. He was released after questioning this morning, with no charges filed against him as yet, but he has been identified as a person of interest in this case. Back to you, Lucinda."

Baylor expressed his satisfaction with the event, but Tommy disagreed. He knew Colin and had seen him often, but Colin wasn't with Ferndelle when she fell on the floor. He wasn't responsible.

Tommy cried again for his lost home and his big rock where he could splash into the water. He wanted real food, not the green stuff Mary Catherine was giving him. He wanted his home and the woman who'd been kind to him.

"I'm sorry, little one." She refrained from stroking his back with her finger, not wanting to smudge any fingerprints that might be there. "I can get you a larger space and a rock, even turtle food. But I can't bring Ferndelle back. Are you sure about Colin?"

He reminded her that he had been there with Ferndelle when she'd died. It definitely wasn't Colin, but he was sure he had seen the other human, the one who held Ferndelle on the floor and hurt her. Mary Catherine asked him if it was a man or a woman. The little turtle wasn't sure. He began mourning his friend and his home again.

Not that she could blame the police for thinking he did it. Baylor did. First there was the open door, which probably meant the person who killed Ferndelle had a key. Then, as the reporter mentioned, there was money involved. Not to mention that business about his parents being killed two years before. Colin had been very angry when everything had gone to his aunt instead of him. It seemed awfully coincidental to her and she was on his side.

THE NEWS ABOUT COLIN weighed heavily on her heart. Mary Catherine did her show, but it was difficult to drum up the enthusiasm she normally had for it. There were the usual callers asking about things their pets did that they thought were good or bad. The talk show was always a mixed bag of psychic phenomena and pet care ideas.

Just before it was time to finish up, a man called in, saying he had information about Ferndelle's death.

"You should call the police," she told him.

"I will," the caller agreed. "If you can guess my pet's secret by communicating with him psychically."

Pursing her mouth, she agreed. Normally, she would've switched him off as a prank caller. But today, Colin's future might be in the balance. "All right. What do you want to know?"

"You'll have to guess."

"I don't think I can guess randomly. What did you have in mind?"

"I have my pet with me while I'm talking to you, Mary Catherine. Guess what it is first. Then we'll go on."

"An iguana." She shrugged at Mindy as the young woman made a face at her. "I'm sorry. That just popped into my mind."

"Try again. Better make it good this time. I might start to believe you're not really psychic."

Mary Catherine didn't like the sound of the man's voice. But she tried again for Colin's sake. "You have a dog"

"Good guess. What kind?"

She concentrated. "A Dalmatian."

"Wrong" The caller laughed. "I guess Colin goes to jail."

"Wait!" She tried to stop him. But Corey, the engineer, shook his head at her. "The line's dead."

She made herself take a deep breath and finish the show. The last caller was a woman with a dog that was allergic to dog food and would only eat cat food.

"I think he's playing with you," Mary Catherine advised her caller. "He's testing you to see how far you'll go."

"That would make sense, considering we just moved to a new house and I don't think he likes it. He pees on everything."

"Sit him down and have a talk with him. Don't be afraid of looking silly. Look into his eyes. Tell him this is his new home. If he soils it, he'll have to live there anyway. You aren't moving. As to the cat food, switch him back to dog food. He isn't a cat. You wouldn't let a child eat pickles all the time either."

The caller laughed. "That's true! Thanks. I'll try that and let you know if it works."

Mary Catherine thanked her for calling. "I'd like to finish up today by reminding all of you that animals are smarter than anyone gives them credit for. They think and feel the way we do. It may be on a different level, more like children than adults, but they get angry, frustrated, and scared. Talk to your pet. Remind him or her that you love them. Try to understand what they're telling you. It might make both your lives better." She said goodbye to her audience, then stepped out of the sound booth.

"That guy who called about Colin was scary. Who do you think that was?" Mindy shivered. "I wish Colin would call. This isn't like him."

"I don't know. But he might have some valuable information about what happened to Colin's aunt." Mary Catherine turned to Corey. "Do we know where that call came from, the phone number?"

"I can try to trace it on the computer."

"Would you?"

"Sure. Do you think he really knows something about Colin's aunt?"

"I don't know. But it's worth finding out."

Corey tracked the phone number and Mary Catherine called it back. There was no answer. Maybe she could get the police to check it out. "Thanks" She said goodbye to Mindy and Corey as she picked up Tommy's carrying box and her shawl. "I'll let you know what happens. Call me if you hear anything else about Colin."