To Catch a Treat (16 page)

twenty-four

Garvy froze, his cup
only halfway back to the table. I'd potentially made a big mistake, kind of accusing him of murder, if it turned out he was guilty.

On the other hand, we were in public, so it was safer to accuse him here than somewhere else.

But suddenly he burst into laughter. “Oh, you're smart,” he said. “Do you accuse everyone you think might have a motive? If so, let me suggest that you stop doing that. Subtlety works best in most situations during an investigation, especially if you happen to be accurate. A murder accusation is a good motive for someone who's guilty to kill a second time.”

“In public?” I challenged, trying to sound as amused as he seemed to be.

“Oh, but a killer can wait till the right private moment. Don't you watch TV shows?”

Kit returned to the table then with our check. Garvy immediately grabbed for it as Biscuit stood up and stretched. “A little more coffee?” Kit asked him.

“Sure, some to take along as we leave.”

“And mocha?” She looked at me.

“No thanks.” Although revving myself up with more caffeine sounded good.

I could get ready to run, and I'd no doubt that Biscuit could keep up with me.

We argued jovially about who'd pay the check. I finally allowed Garvy to do it even though the success of his current investigation might be in jeopardy—and therefore his paycheck, too.

After Kit refilled Garvy's cup, he leaned toward me over the table. I noticed how broad his shoulders were and got a sense, with him now in his T-shirt rather than dressed up, that he could be one strong dude.

Accusing him of murder, even though I wondered about him, probably hadn't been the best idea.

“Okay, you asked, so I'll tell you,” Garvy finally said. “No, I don't think the cops are about to arrest me, although, as you know, I went to talk to them.” I remembered I'd seen him in the police station, so that was no surprise. “We talked mostly about the dog thefts, but I did bring up the possibility of Ada's involvement. And that I was looking for those dogs. The cops were astute enough to ask where I was the night she was killed, and I told them I'd gone to the supposed party at the resort bar, then returned to my hotel. I came to Knobcone Heights alone and have no one to vouch for my having spent the night in my room, but that was what happened.”

Even having someone vouch for your whereabouts wasn't always enough, I'd learned. For example, Delma had apparently stood up for Janelle as much as possible, considering her illness, but that hadn't stopped the authorities from suspecting Janelle.

“Okay.” I stood up. “I'm glad to hear you're innocent.” But could I believe it?

I wished I couldn't, since I was still determined to clear Janelle.

“In case you don't believe me,” he said, catching up with me as Biscuit and I started wending our way through the patio crowd, “just look at me now.”

I turned to glance at him and he laughed once more.

“I didn't meant that literally,” he amended. “The thing is, I was looking for stolen dogs.”

“Wait till we're outside,” I told him. “I can't hear you very well here.”

We exited the patio through a door to the sidewalk, and I stooped to pick up Biscuit.

There were plenty of cars flowing by, since Peak Road was a major street on the far side of the town square. Other people were strolling along the sidewalk, too. I didn't feel endangered being with Garvy, at least not now.

When he continued talking, what he said made sense, darn it. I couldn't put him high up on my potential suspect list.

“Here's the thing, Carrie. If you're going to act like an investigator, you do have to look at all the angles.”

“Okay, what angles are you talking about?”

We carefully crossed the street, and I put Biscuit down on one of the town square's paths. She immediately started walking with her nose to the ground.

“Mine. What I meant by ‘look at me' is that you can see I'm still on this case, searching for those stolen dogs. Ada was my main suspect. She still is, although I believe Tim to be her accomplice. Ada had ties to this town. If she were still alive, I'd have confronted her, solved this situation by now, and gotten those poor stolen dogs back to their owners. I already considered her a primary suspect, so I wouldn't have killed her and cut off my ability to follow and question her, certainly not before I got answers.”

“Did you learn where she was keeping the dogs?” I asked. If so, he could have killed her without any bad consequences—well, other than being prosecuted for murder.

“Yes. But not until they were moved out, after her death.”

“By Tim Smith?”

“By the man you know as Tim Smith,” he amended.

We were now about to cross Summit Avenue to reach my shops. I looked at him. “Don't tell me his name is Smith Tim, like yours is Grant Garvy?”

Yet another smile lit his handsome face. I bet he had women scratching at each other to get his attention—and, in my mind, I blessed Reed. Reed was a calming, and altogether appealing, influence that kept me from feeling attracted to this perplexing man.

“No, I won't tell you that. But his real name is Tim Thorine. He's twenty-six years old, grew up in Fresno, moved to LA to attend college, and that's where he met Ada Arnist.”

“You forgot to say he's a dognapper.” Which made him loathsome, as Ada had been, although I hated to think ill of the dead. But I was more worried about the dogs the two had apparently stolen. Were they okay? Where were they? Would they get back safely to their loving owners?

“I may not have said it, but I won't forget it,” Garvy growled. I wasn't sure I'd seen his expression this grim before and figured he and I were on the same wavelength—at least about this. “Not until I've found him and returned those dogs to their owners.”

I wanted to applaud, but he might take it wrong. But, yes, we were thinking alike, at least about the stolen dogs.

We were now right in front of my stores. I didn't want to invite him in, even though he could enter anyway as a member of the public. And I still felt conflicted about telling him the little that I did know about Tim Smith-Thorine's possible whereabouts.

Maybe I'd use some of the investigative techniques he'd mentioned and check to see if I could find Tim myself, then make a point of talking to Police Chief Loretta Jonas again.

With luck, whether or not Garvy got credit for it, those poor dogs could get back home soon.

Dinah was busy in Icing and Frida, who'd replaced Vicky, was busy in the Barkery when Biscuit and I returned. There weren't a huge amount of customers in either store, but enough to make me happy. Frida had brought her beagle mix Zorro that day, although she usually didn't. Biscuit and Zorro got along well, so my pup was fine with heading for her enclosure where Zorro was tethered.

Before I walked inside the Barkery with Biscuit, Garvy had headed away, down the sidewalk. He and I had exchanged contact information first, but I didn't give him anything he couldn't have found online about the phone number and addresses I used for my shops. I got his phone number, though, and promised I'd let him know if I learned anything more about where Tim might be, or anything else about a pack of purebred dogs who might have just recently arrived in the area.

And maybe I actually would, if I learned anything useful—and genuinely believed that Garvy was the best bet for ensuring those dogs got home safely. I wasn't sure about that.

But I was positive I wanted to do all I could to ensure that the missing dogs were found and reunited with their families.

I decided to follow up with my own best resource, as tenuous as that was: Janelle. Maybe Delma, too, since they were friends who'd gone together to some of the dog parks where the dogs went missing.

As a result, I called Janelle and asked if Delma and she would be available to meet me for dinner that evening, preferably at the Arrowhead Diner. No guys to be present this time. Women's night out.

I didn't explain that I preferred to ask all the questions myself, and not get my nosy brother, or even the animal-caring vet I was seeing, involved in the discussion. Not this time, at least.

I arranged to meet them at seven o'clock. They were free to bring their dogs, as I was bringing Biscuit. Winter would arrive in the San Bernardino Mountains eventually, but not for a few months, so I figured I'd keep my dog with me as much as possible on these kinds of outings, while I could.

For now, I left Biscuit to head over to Icing, where I checked things out and hung around for a while, then helped Dinah prepare for that evening's closing. I took the cash register records into my back office, then did the same in the Barkery with Frida.

“I'm working on a really special meat loaf at home tonight,” she told me. “It'll have a savory bacon and blue cheese gravy with some special seasonings I've been playing with.”

“Sounds delicious,” I said, my mouth actually watering. I hadn't realized it, but I was hungry.

“I'll save you a sample,” she promised.

Soon, both shops were closed, Dinah was on her way home, and Frida and Zorro had dashed into her car to head for the grocery store—probably the one managed by her husband.

Biscuit and I got into my car, too. Before I drove us to the Arrowhead Diner, I had a long detour to make.

I drove to the residential neighborhood in Blue Jay where Tim Smith-Thorine had told the vet clinic he lived with his two dogs. I wondered, as I drove, if I was doing too much of this investigative stuff. Shouldn't I leave this part to Garvy, and the resolution of Ada's murder to the authorities?

Sure, if I didn't care for dogs or Janelle. Neither Garvy nor the cops seemed to be doing an adequate job of handling their responsibilities.

It was nearing twilight in the mountains, but the narrow, twisting roads fortunately had reasonably good lighting. I soon got to the street that was my goal. I didn't see any kids outside this time at Tim's address, but neither did I see or hear any dogs. This part of the neighborhood was quiet. But I hadn't really believed, after last time, that I'd find any missing dogs here.

The deserted-looking place down the road was different. I hoped to once again find some dogs at that location. Contacting the police about them hadn't gotten me anywhere before, but if I found them again, I'd make more noise about it.

I slowed down as I cruised along the street, using the control on my armrest to open the passenger-side window.

I heard nothing from behind the fence at the very rundown house I'd noticed before. Just in case, though, I parked and got out of my car.

Ah. Walking toward me, from the direction I'd just driven away from, was an older lady with a small gray terrier. Maybe fellow dog-people could bond and talk about this apparently vacant house.

I unhooked Biscuit from her safety harness in the back seat behind me and snapped on her leash. Then we started walking along the damaged sidewalk in the direction of the woman.

I took my time, hoping it appeared that I was just walking my dog and didn't want anything else. The lady kept approaching, so I must not have appeared threatening. When the two dogs got close, they did the normal doggy thing and investigated and sniffed each other. Biscuit wasn't usually a barker in that kind of situation, and the other dog appeared fine with it, too.

I smiled at the lady. “Hi. I just visited some friends a couple of blocks away and was driving through here. Biscuit seemed to want a walk, so here we are.” I paused, watching for the woman's reaction. “I was here a week or two ago and thought I saw a whole lot of dogs in one of the yards around here, so I figured the neighborhood was dog friendly.”

The lady smiled beneath her thick, dark-rimmed glasses. She had thin, silvery hair cut short and a sagging chin that went well with the rest of her lined face. “We're definitely dog friendly around here, but the dogs who were here are gone now.”

“Oh, then I was right that this is the location?”

“Yes. This house, as I understand it, is under foreclosure, so the guy who brought the dogs here had no business doing so.”

“Oh. What was that all about?”

“I wish I knew. The dogs were noisy a lot, but he seemed to take good care of the place, cleaning up after them and all. And I know he must have been feeding them. They looked all right, and a day or so after I realized he was gone, a delivery truck from one of the major companies pulled up with a dog food delivery. I told him there was no one living there.”

“I take it he just drove off.”

“Well, yes, after calling someone—maybe his office. He stood on the sidewalk, and Gershwin, here, was doing his thing, so I only heard part of what he said.”

Was I going to get lucky here and learn something helpful from this nice, chatty lady? She seemed to be waiting for me to ask her.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I gathered that the dispatcher said he'd been given old information or something like that. They had a forwarding address.”

Yes! I was going to find out where Tim had gone with the dogs.

“Really? How interesting. Where was it?”

“Somewhere in Knobcone Heights, I think, though that's all I heard.” At my urging, she told me which delivery company it was. “Anyway, we need to run,” she said. “Have a good evening.”

twenty-five

So what should I
do next? I pondered that as I drove Biscuit and myself to the Arrowhead Diner to meet Janelle and Delma.

I'd tell Chief Loretta, that was for certain. It sounded as if Tim and the stolen dogs might be back within her jurisdiction. Maybe that would spur her to find them, both the poor dogs and Tim, who, in my opinion, should be looked at more closely as a murder suspect.

But was that enough? Even if she looked for and found Tim, what would happen to the dogs?

Should I tell Garvy anything and let him search for them? Would he somehow have access to the delivery company's records, or someone who would provide that information?

Did I trust him enough to tell him?

Dinner that night convinced me that I should do anything I possibly could to get those dogs home.

As anticipated, Biscuit and I sat on the patio at the diner with Janelle and Go, and Delma and Shobie. If I ever got tired of patio eating, I'd have to give up dining with dogs, and that was never going to happen—especially with my little Biscuit.

Also, as I often did, I ordered a hamburger, the better to share with my pup. I additionally ordered a glass of red wine to help me relax.

Janelle and Delma and their dogs had come there together, or so they told me. They were waiting when Biscuit and I arrived and had already gotten the table, with a seat available for me.

When I sat down, they'd been talking about their lives in Knobcone Heights. Fortunately, it sounded as if Janelle intended to stay in town indefinitely. Was that because of Neal, or her job at my shops, or a combo?

Or was it because the cops had warned her to stay around?

Considering the look she shared with me as I took a sip of water and listened to their conversation, I figured that my last guess was at least a factor.

“Shobie and I will be heading down the hill soon,” Delma said. I hadn't heard what she did for a living, but she'd been here for at least a couple of weeks. Did she have a job?

“You must have a nice, long vacation package at your work,” I said, smiling at her.

“I'm a high school teacher, so I've got the whole summer.” The smile on her round face was ironic, as if she anticipated a criticism from me. “I sometimes tutor or take on short classes this time of year to earn a little more money, but I didn't this year.”

“What do you teach?” I asked, interested now.

“Basic biology, at a small private high school near Santa Monica. In case you can't tell, I love animals.” She bent over and patted Shobie on the head. Her dog's muzzle went up in the air in apparent ecstasy at the attention.

“I figured,” I said, smiling.

“Then you must also figure that I'm really upset—not only about the dog thefts near where I live, but the fact no one has found any of them. Except Go, here, and that's a miracle. But I've been in touch with other victims and they haven't even received any more ransom notes.” She glared at me over her snub nose, as if she blamed some of that on me.

“More?” I ventured.

“Some of them received initial teasers via email,” Janelle said quietly. “The emails said they would hear more later and should be prepared to pay a thousand dollars or more to get their pets back.” She paused, then said, “I never got one, even though I was ready to pay immediately to get Go back.” She got off her chair and knelt beside Go, giving her dog a huge hug. When she looked up again she said, “I'm just so lucky.”

She definitely was. The scuttlebutt in the media, of course, was that the dognappers weren't intending to give the stolen dogs back but to sell them. That was why they had all been purebreds or designer dogs.

I mentioned this, and Delma said, “Yeah, you're right. But a few of the people I talked to sent money to some address they were given and still didn't get their dogs back.”

So it was even more critical to find the dogs as soon as possible, so they could be reunited with their real families and not sold to new ones—assuming that it hadn't already been done.

So far, at least a couple of weeks had passed that I knew of. Probably a lot longer for some of the grieving families.

Finding Tim-of-the-changing-last-name was even more critical because of this—although I wanted to have him located anyway, since he should at least be interrogated about Ada's murder, if he hadn't been already.

Our meals arrived then, thanks to one of the male servers wearing the typical green knit shirts with the Arrowhead Diner logo on the pocket. “Enjoy,” he said, and winked at Janelle.

I considered my brother's romantic interest to be the prettiest one at this table, too, but the guy didn't have to slight Delma and me. I figured that would enter into his tip.

On the other hand, I didn't want him or anyone else to flirt with me, except for Reed at the moment.

But if I needed to, to get what I wanted from Garvy, I might be the one to flirt with him.

On the whole, dinner was pleasant. I didn't mention anything about Ada or even about Garvy, even though these two—Delma and Janelle—had been at the dinner at the resort when I'd asked about him. I must not have seemed as obsessed about locating the guy as I'd felt, since although Janelle asked at one point if I'd found the real estate guy I was looking for, she didn't press it when I said no. It was only a partial lie anyway, since the man I'd found—or who'd found me—wasn't in real estate after all.

That night, after I got home, I chatted briefly with Reed over the phone and said good night to Neal. Then, lying in bed, I obsessed a bit more about Garvy.

Would it be a good idea to tell the PI the little I'd learned today about Tim and his possible move back to this town?

I would tell the authorities first, of course. And I'd make Garvy promise to keep me informed of his every move trying to locate Tim and the dogs, since I'd let him know something that might lead to finding them.

But how could I be sure he'd do so?

Could I trust him?

He was already undercover and he'd shown he was quite capable of keeping secrets if he considered it in his best interests.

On the other hand, I'd no idea whether the authorities would keep the best interests of the dogs in mind even if they happened to also be looking for Tim to question him. And it would definitely not work to tell Loretta I had some information she might need but that I'd only share it if she made promises—either to tell me what the cops found or to make sure the dogs were immediately turned over to Mountaintop Rescue.

I doubted I could get any information from the delivery company or find Tim's location myself.

What was I going to do?

By the morning, I'd gone back and forth a zillion times about how to handle things.

I hadn't really gotten anywhere by attempting to befriend Chief Loretta and ask for her help. Had she even tried to find Tim Smith, or contacted any law enforcement agencies down the mountain to attempt to rescue the dogs I'd seen, or at least check to see if Tim was one of the thieves? The news I'd heard on the LA TV stations, which we could access up here, hadn't mentioned alleged connections to any other location.

I didn't trust the two detectives who'd given me a hard time in the spring and were now riding Janelle. Of course, they wanted to solve their murder case. They did appear to be animal lovers—maybe. But I didn't especially like them, let alone trust them.

The only thing I was certain of was that, if I told Garvy anything, I would most likely trust him even less than the detectives.

So, attempting to figure out the lesser of the many evils, I decided I'd at least start with the local police chief.

I thought about asking Billi to come with me again but decided against it. Her presence the last time had made it clear to the police chief that we were friends, with similar intentions regarding the saving of dogs. If the police chief stonewalled me, she would have to assume I'd let Billi know it.

So, right on time that morning—which wasn't too hard, considering how little I'd slept—I headed for my shops and began the day's baking.

Janelle was the first of my assistants to arrive, and she thanked me profusely again for paying for dinner last night—and for remaining on her side regarding Ada's murder. I'd kept her somewhat informed that I was checking into things, but I didn't tell her all.

I definitely didn't mention my intention to go see the police chief that morning. If all went well, or at least better than I anticipated, I could fill her in later.

I took on the Icing side and Janelle baked on the Barkery side, and we opened both stores at exactly seven a.m.

Dinah came in around then, too, so we were fully staffed. That meant I was able, when nine o'clock rolled around, to walk outside and call the police department. I asked for Chief Jonas and got one of her minions I'd met before, Sergeant Himura.

I explained again who I was and my interest in the situation involving the death of Ada Arnist and her alleged involvement in dog thefts beforehand. I let him know I'd gotten some information that might lead to the location of a suspect they might not yet have spoken with—and also, hopefully, the location of the missing dogs.

“Is there anything different from what you suggested the last time you were here, Ms. Kennersly?” The man sounded jaded and uninterested and generally difficult, and I didn't want to have to deal with him any more.

“Yes,” I said curtly. “When can I come in to talk to Chief Jonas?”

“She has a full schedule today.”

“And tomorrow and the next day, I'm sure. But what I have to tell her won't take long.”
And I don't want to tell it to a twerp like you
, I thought. “Maybe it would be better if I brought City Councilwoman Matlock again.” Would threats get through to this guy?

“Why don't you just come in now?” He sounded resigned. “I'll fit you in as soon as I can.”

“I assume you know better than to be bothering me with some other suspicion of yours about Ms. Arnist's homicide,” Chief Loretta said dryly. She had told the officer on reception duty to let me know, before I came to her office, that she would give me exactly five minutes. When I entered and sat down on the same chair I had before, facing her over her pristine, empty wooden desk, she'd spoken first without allowing me to at least start the conversation. “So what are you here about? Something about those supposedly missing dogs?”

As before, she sat in her plush, gold-colored chair, looking pompous with her erect posture, although this time she wasn't wearing the jacket over her white, many-buttoned shirt with its service bars over the left pocket. Her frown lines were etched even deeper into her face than I recalled, probably because of her irritation about my being here again.

“That's right,” I said. “Those
actually
missing dogs. You know I'm a dog lover, and even though I've watched the news for any information about the LA police investigating the dognappings, I haven't seen anything except reports that the dogs remain missing. Fortunately, that may mean there've been no new thefts, but the dogs haven't been returned home either, unless the news simply isn't covering it. I think it's the kind of situation most media would really jump on if there was any break in the case, or whatever.”

“Exactly. Or whatever.” The chief's dark eyes were leveled on mine and she seemed to wait for me to continue talking, like a lion crouching to leap on its prey. “And before you ask, yes, we've been in touch with several law enforcement agencies in the affected areas to get their information about the thefts and let them know that, since one of the stolen animals showed up at our shelter here, we're keeping our eyes open in case more are around this area, too.”

That was good, at least. But just keeping their eyes open? Not jumping in to investigate?

“That's why I'm here,” I said. “In case your eyes are open, I wanted to let you know some information I've uncovered.”

She glared at my sarcasm but said nothing, apparently waiting for me to continue.

I made myself relax, since I wanted to appear earnest but not critical—no matter what I was thinking. Then I began. “I'd like to give you a bit of an update, since I'm getting even more concerned about the wellbeing of the missing animals. I already told you about the rundown-looking place I located that had a lot of dogs in the yard, where I was hoping to talk to Tim Smith.” No need to get into whether that was actually his name. “I went back there the other day to check it out. You might already have looked into it, too.” I
paused to let her jump in and say of course she had, but she
remained silent—although she appeared to nod just a little. “Like before, I saw no indication that it was Tim Smith's home. And this time, I neither heard nor saw any dogs there.”

“Yeah? Well, neither did we when I sent a couple of my officers there to check it out.”

So she had paid attention. That was a good thing.

But the fact that she'd seen no indication that what I'd said was true wasn't so good.

“They
were
there before,” I assured her. “And they've been moved. When I was there this time I saw a neighbor walking her dog past the house and stopped to chat with her. That's why I'm here.”

“She gave you information about Tim and the dogs?”

“Kind of.” I explained that she'd told me the house was in foreclosure but someone with a lot of dogs had moved in, then out, fairly quickly. “I can't be certain it was Tim, or that the dogs there were the stolen ones, but what I can do is give you the information the neighbor gave me that could lead to a forwarding address.”

I'd apparently gotten Loretta's interest at last. She leaned forward, her dark eyes glimmering in anticipation. “And that address is … ?”