Maybe Murder Page 4

  Kalico narrowed his eyes. It takes one to know one, he thought.

  “I am not a busybody, young man,” replied Miss Winterjoy.

  How does she do that?

  “I am a concerned friend––and you should never play poker! Now, get out of your car and follow me.”

  Kalico grabbed the folder with Pippa flyers, and trotted after Miss Winterjoy who marched to her backyard gate where she planted her feet and motioned to a stack of All Natural Texas Cedar Mulch. She then opened the gate and waited. Kalico frowned, paused, sighed, and placed Pippa’s folder between his teeth before he bent down to pick up a bag.

  He joined Miss Winterjoy in front of a bed of daffodils, now past their prime, and budding lavender irises. She removed the folder from his mouth and glanced at the little dog’s picture. “Poor little girl,” she murmured. “Just place the mulch there by the bulb bed, Mr. Kalico.” He did so. “Good. Now, what’s your cover story? You must be discreet. Nancy cannot suspect that I hired a detective.”

  “I want to meet Mrs. MacLeod and get her view of the accidents, so I was going to indicate that I was canvassing the neighborhood for Pippa, that way…”

  “That will never do.”

  Miss Winterjoy marched out the gate and stopped by the bags of mulch. Kalico bent down, grabbed two bags and followed his client who had stopped in front of a large bed filled with hybrid tea roses. He dropped the bags, ruefully noting a mud stain on his khakis—his last clean pair of pants.

  “Now, Miss. Winterjoy, you need to let me…” he began, but she had already returned to the front yard. Panting slightly, he trotted after her.

  “Miss Winterjoy,” he began again. “You must let me do my….”

  “Of course, you want to get Nancy’s version of the ‘accidents.’ You finish carrying the bags to the back and setting out the mulch—be sure to spread it evenly and no more than four inches deep—and I will arrange for the interview.” She looked pointedly at him and then at the Cedar mulch.

  “I am not your gardener.” Kalico straightened to his full height, and glared down at Miss Winterjoy. Her ice-blue eyes met his brown. He blinked, sighed, and lugged more bags into the backyard.

  For the next thirty minutes, Kalico hauled mulch, ripped open bags, and spread it evenly through flowerbeds and around blooming redbud trees. At some point, two yapping corgis rushed up to greet him, accepted belly rubs, then raced around the yard before dropping a much chewed tennis ball at his feet. He tossed it absent-mindedly, then stretched his back and admired his work. The beds looked dark and rich. Sweat trickled down his back; his khakis were filthy. The corgis returned; he threw the ball again. Only three bags left.

  “Ben! Ben, time for a tea break. Come here and let me introduce you to my neighbor.”

  Kalico turned to see Miss Winterjoy beckoning to him from her deck. Standing beside her was a tall, slender woman wearing jeans and a blue “Librarians Do It By the Book” t-shirt. A wide-brimmed straw hat shadowed her face. He walked over to the ladies, corgis dancing at his heels.

  “Ben, this is my friend, Nancy MacLeod. Nancy, Benjamin Kalico. He is being so kind as to help me in the garden this year.” She smiled innocently, snapped her fingers at the dogs and pointed to a mat by her sliding glass door. The corgis begrudgingly left Kalico and lay down on the matt, heads between their stubby front legs, eyes and ears alert.

  “Nice to meet you.” Ben hesitated to offer his dirt caked hand, but Nancy grabbed it and shook it vigorously. He glimpsed a face that was all angles, highlighted by deep-set, golden brown eyes, and softened by straight bangs—a Katherine Hepburn face.

  “It’s my pleasure. I must confess, Mr. Kalico, that I am a fan. You do such important work—returning lost pets to their owners. Did you really have to sing to that cat? Sunny, wasn’t it?” She laughed, a low musical sound. “Did Ghost literally vanish in front of your eyes?”

  “Call me Ben.” Kalico flushed, glad that he had not used the lost Pippa as an excuse to meet Nancy. “My assistant’s blog exaggerates, but Ghost is elusive.”

  “I’d like to hear about your most fascinating cases,” Nancy insisted.

  “Do sit and have some tea,” Miss Winterjoy interrupted. “These macadamia nut chocolate chip cookies are warm from the oven.”

  “Ma’am, do you mind if I use your bathroom to wash my hands?”

  “Not at all. It’s down the hall and to your left. Use the dark blue hand towel.”

  The two ladies watched Kalico leave.

  “Such a polite young man…but since when do you need help in the garden?” Nancy asked.

  “I’m not getting any younger and mulch is getting much heavier than it use to be.” Miss Winterjoy sighed largely.

  “I know what you mean, but still…” Nancy looked at her friend closely. “Emelia, you are up to something?”

  “Nonsense. Sit and have some tea. How is your new flower bed coming?”

  “Brilliantly. It’s going to be all pink and white—pink dianthus and mounds of fragrant sweet alyssum.” Nancy smiled. “Do not imagine that I don’t know that you just changed the subject.”

  “Cookie?” Miss Winterjoy smiled.

  “But how did the Kalico Cat Detective become your gardener? It’s absurd.”

  “Ben, come and sit.” Miss Winterjoy turned her attention to her bouncing corgis. “Boys! Down. I expect good manners. Now, sit and meet Ben properly.”

  Tails thumping wildly, the corgis sat. “Ben, this handsome gentleman on your left is Snowdon, and the incorrigible scamp on the right is Tregaren.”

  Ben knelt and the corgis shook hands politely. “No begging or it’s back to your mat.” The boys sighed and settled under the table.

  Kalico sat down and drank deeply from a glass of the sweet, cold tea. He bit into a warm cookie and stifled a delighted moan. “Great cookie, Miss Winterjoy.”

  “Thank you. You may call me Emelia.” She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Nancy was just asking me how you became my garden assistant.”

  Kalico took a big bite of a cookie, his mind racing. He could feel his neck flushing. Rule number one when undercover: always have a back story. His mind was blank.

  “Yes. How did you two meet? And why is a detective doing yard work? I can’t help being curious.” Nancy smiled at them from under the brim of her hat.

  “His mother,” stated Mrs. Winterjoy.

  “My mother?” He gulped. “Yes, my mother…”

  “You’ve heard me mention Katherine, one of the docents at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center? We were talking about garden projects last week, and I was complaining about mulching, when she suggested that I call her son to see if he would be willing to help an old lady out. I called, and Ben kindly agreed.” She smiled innocently. “I had no idea that Katherine’s last name was Kalico or that I was calling the famous cat detective.”

  An awful idea was forming in Kalico’s mind. His mother? His mother? The best lies are based on truths, and he bet that Miss Winterjoy and his mother…

  “It’s very kind of you to volunteer to help,” commented Nancy, still looking a bit skeptical.

  “It’s no problem. I always help my mom in the yard.” He grabbed another cookie.

  “Have you finished the Louise Penny for book club?” Miss Winterjoy changed the subject.

  “Yes,” replied Nancy. “I love Inspector Gamache, and I want to move to Three Pines.”

  “We belong to a book circle that meets every other week,” Miss Winterjoy explained to Kalico. “We’re reading Still Life, a fine detective story set in Canada.” She looked pointedly at Kalico, then turned to her friend. “I can’t believe it’s been a month since your accident, Nancy.”

  “You were in an accident, Mrs. MacLeod? I mean, Nancy?”

  “It was silly really—just a fender bender and a bump on the head.”

  “You could have been seriously hurt,” interjected Miss Winterjoy.

  “What happened?” Kalico leaned forward enco
uragingly and met Nancy’s eyes.

  “I was driving home from Margie’s house—our book circle hostess for the night. She lives way out in Lakeway. It was late—about 9:00—and I don’t like driving at night any more. The headlights are too bright. Anyway, I turned left on Southwest Parkway, glad that oncoming traffic was sparse. I was coming up to the stoplight at Barton Creek when it changed. I stepped on my brakes—and nothing. I pumped them, but the car would not slow down.” Nancy shuddered at the memory. She described the glaring red light, a dark SUV crawling through the intersection, her heart thudding as she pumped and pumped the unresponsive brakes. “I ran right through the red light, narrowly missing an SUV. I guess I panicked, turned the steering wheel too sharply, and ended up in a shallow ditch on the side of the highway.”

  “Did your airbag deploy?”

  “No, thank heavens. I just wrenched my neck and dented my front bumper. Luckily, no one else was hurt.” She sighed.

  “But your brakes failed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Had they given you any trouble before that evening?”

  “No. It was stop and go getting to Margie’s house, and the brakes were fine. Perhaps they were a bit—I don’t know—mushy as I began the drive home.” She shook her head. “Besides, Connor, my grandson, had just taken the car in for an oil change. And they checked the brake fluid, tire pressure—everything.”

  Miss Winterjoy looked pointedly at Kalico. “I’m grateful that you didn’t reinjure your hip. I will never forgive myself. You see, Ben, normally we drive to book club together. But last month, I double booked my engagements. I went to dinner with my niece, so Nancy had to drive herself.”

  Kalico grabbed another cookie and stroked Snow’s head. Who, he wondered, would’ve known that Nancy was driving herself? Aloud he asked, “Nancy, did you have an earlier car accident?” Miss Winterjoy imperceptibly nodded approval.

  “No. I took a silly tumble in my kitchen that landed me in the emergency room.”

  “Sprained her wrist and bruised her hip. Lucky she didn’t die,” said Miss Winterjoy.

  Kalico frowned, willing her to be quiet.

  Nancy adjusted her hat and cleared her throat. “Too much fuss is being made of a little slip of the foot. I’m fine now.”

  Kalico leaned forward, again seeking Nancy’s eyes. In a quiet, sympathetic voice, he asked, “But tell me, what happened?”

  Excited barks drowned out his question as the corgis rushed to the sliding glass door.

  “Aunt Emelia! Where are you? Trey! Snow! Boys? Where is everyone?” A young woman stepped out onto the deck. “Gentlemen, down!” They sat, vibrating with excitement, as she bent down to greet them. “Hi, Nancy.”

  “Lynn, dear. What a nice surprise. You’re just in time for tea and cookies.” Miss Winterjoy rose to hug her niece. “Let me introduce you to Benjamin Kalico.”

  Ben rose, scowling at the young woman who had interrupted his interview. “Hey,” he growled.

  “Hey.” The niece glanced at him with clear blue eyes.

  He looked at aunt and niece as they stood for the moment arm in arm. The girl was about 5’6”––two inches taller than her aunt—but their resemblance was uncanny—same upright posture, same heart-shaped faces, same blue eyes that missed nothing. Same annoying bossiness, he bet.

  The niece’s eyes narrowed, looking at him quizzically. “Aren’t you the cat detective? Don’t tell me Perdita has gotten out again, Aunt Em.”

  “Just detective,” Kalico corrected.

  “Perdita is fine. Ben is helping me in the yard.” Miss Winterjoy smiled innocently.

  “Since when do you need help in the yard?” Lynn hugged Nancy, sat down, bit into a cookie, and looked first at Ben and then at her aunt.

  Kalico cleared his throat. “Nancy, was just going to tell me about the accident she had in her home.”

  “It was nothing, really. My foot slipped out from under me…”

  “Oh, don’t make her relive that awful night,” Lynn interrupted, as Kalico scowled. “It’s too dreadful. We’re all just glad that she’s recovered so well.”

  “Retelling an accident is part of the, uh, healing process,” Kalico offered. “And I’d really like to hear…”

  “Nonsense.” Lynn pushed the plate of cookies over to him. “So you detect more than lost pets?”

  Kalico looked pleadingly at Miss Winterjoy who smiled mildly at him. He picked up a tennis ball and threw it for the corgis who flew across the yard in ecstatic pursuit. He swallowed. “I operate my own private detection firm. We do surveillance, insurance fraud cases, cold cases. I’m even looking into a possible murder.” The dogs had returned, so he threw the now wet and muddy ball again.

  “Impressive. I’m amazed, then, that you have time to retrieve pets or help my aunt with yard work.”

  “I don’t. I don’t have time. In fact, I have to go.” This interview was a bust. Kalico pushed back his chair. “Important client meeting.” He turned to Nancy MacLeod. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Miss Winterjoy—Emelia—I will come by tomorrow to finish putting out that mulch.”

  “Ben, be sure to wear clothes more suitable for gardening,” she offered.

  He bit back a retort, and grabbed one more cookie. “Thanks for the tea. Great cookies.” He knelt to give Trey and Snow farewell pats, nodded at Lynn, and made a hasty retreat through the backyard gate.

  Lynn followed. “I’ll show him out,” she offered over her shoulder to her aunt.

  Grinning, Nancy gazed at her old friend. “Now, I see what you’re up to!”

  Miss Winterjoy stayed silent.

  Kalico was half way across the front yard, when Lynn’s voice stopped him.

  “Ben!”

  Kalico sighed, turned, and looked down at the girl whose dark hair glowed red in the late afternoon sun. He waited.

  “Okay. Give. What are you and my aunt up to?”

  “I came over to help her move mulch.”

  “Really?” Lynn let out a sound that resembled a snort.

  “Yes, really. I’m doing a favor for my mother. After all, Emelia is not getting any younger, and I had an open afternoon.” He could feel his neck getting warm under her close scrutiny,

  “You should never play poker!” She whirled around and disappeared through the gate.

  “So I’ve been told,” he commented to no one in particular.

  Ten minutes later, stuck on MoPac in late Thursday afternoon traffic, Kalico fumed. “Damn. Damn, Miss Winterjoy, and damn her niece,” he shouted at the mass of red tail lights in front of him. His elderly client had manipulated him into working in her yard, he’d ruined his best khakis, the interview had ended precipitously, and that niece of hers had snickered at him. That cat detective.

  His anger evaporated. Who was he kidding? He was a joke. The niece knew it. Victor knew it. His parents knew it. His dad had warned him that he was undercapitalized. He should never have taken a missing pet case. He needed to go back to his business plan—such as it was—and find regular, well paying, two-legged clients. M’s blog would have to go. No more pets—after Ghost and the five or six strays he’d already agreed to find. There was always the police academy. Or he could work for one of the bigger detective agencies—that is, if they’d hire a joke.

  He pulled into the downtown Central Market and bought a six pack and a bag of Vinegar and Sea Salt Kettle Chips for dinner. He had reports to write and a business to save. Then his phone buzzed.

  ***

  Kalico was running, running hard, Nikes pounding the uneven sidewalk, eyes fixed on the quickly retreating rump of a Boston Terrier-mix named Zoe who had developed sudden wanderlust at the advanced dog age of nine. He cursed under his breath as the dog cut across the main road and turned down an unlit side street. A scant ten seconds behind her, Kalico slowed to a jog, willing his eyes to adjust to the sudden gloom. He scanned left and right for the small black and white and brindle girl. There. Beside the fire hydrant. No. Just a shadow. Ther
e—movement by a shrub in the front yard of a duplex. Yes. Zoe was sniffing a shrub. She squatted to mark her territory.

  Kalico unwound the purple leash he carried in his right hand and whistled softly. Zoe’s large triangular ears rotated toward the sound. “Hey, Zoe-girl,” he crooned. “How’s the good girl?” He stopped four feet behind her, trying to slow his breathing and appear calm. Zoe turned, her white-tipped tail wagging, her body tense. “Don’t run. I know you’re a tired girl and want to go to your nice warm doggie bed.” Kalico kept up a steady patter, willing Zoe not to run. Then he firmly ordered, “Sit!” She sat. Relieved, Kalico knelt and fastened the collar around her neck. She licked his hand, then heeled, walking calmly beside him as they made their way back to her home.

  Gina Buonanotte sighed, laughed, and cried when she spotted the little terrier walking meekly beside the tall, thin, red-headed detective. “Zoe!” The dog yapped and began to pull on the lead. Hugs, dog-kisses, excited dancing, and more hugs followed, marking a joyful reunion. Kalico watched, grinning.

  “Benjamin, I don’t know how to thank you. If I had lost her—again—I know that Joe would make me give her up.” She smiled at Kalico through happy and relieved tears.

  “You’re welcome, Gina.”

  “Come in. I have a check ready for you.” She held open the door to her small suburban home. “I can’t believe Zoe got out again.” She cuddled the little dog. “We’ve blocked the gaps in the fence, the window screens are secured, and I’m so careful when I open the front door. But she just bolted when I went out to get the mail.” She frowned at Zoe who had the grace to look ashamed. “If you had not come to help, I don’t know what I would have done.”

  Kalico followed Gina and Zoe into a small living room littered with dog toys. A fluffy Kong rabbit squeaked under his foot; Zoe’s ears turned toward the sound, but she didn’t move in her owner’s arms. This visit was Kalico’s fourth—no fifth—to the Buonanotte residence. In fact, Zoe had been his first pet retrieval after he’d found the Diva. She had started him down the path of becoming a pet detective. And she’s going to be one of my last, Kalico thought.