Maybe Murder Page 5

  Gina gave him a check for $50.00. “I made lasagna for dinner—my nonna’s recipe, straight from Napoli. Won’t you join me? Joe’s working late, and I’m too hungry to wait for him.” Gina set Zoe down, and smiled. “It’s the least I can do, since we ruined your dinner time.”

  Kalico breathed in the aroma of onions, garlic, and oregano. His stomach growled. Cookies, beer, and granola bars were distant memories. He should get home, but a man cannot live on cookie and chips alone….Pet detective: will work for food. He followed Gina and Zoe into the kitchen.

  For the next hour Kalico devoured lasagna and garlic bread, drank red wine, and listened to Gina worry about her son, Joe Jr., who was struggling through his freshman year at the University of Oklahoma, about her husband, Joe, who was picking up extra hours at Sears to cover the cost of tuition, about her oldest daughter Paulina, a marketing rep for Whole Foods, who was dating the wrong guy.

  Uncomfortably full, Kalico finally pushed away from the table, patted Zoe on the head, advising her sternly to stay home, said his good-byes, and surreptitiously placed Gina’s check under a saucer on the table: Pet detective will work for food.

  Chapter Six

  Friday, 6 a.m. Kalico was once again parked near Carson Bolter’s house. Keeping one eye on the darkened windows, he swallowed a scalding gulp of coffee and checked his emails. No sign of Ghost. No new missing pets. No queries from possible clients. Just a note from Miss Winterjoy: “Be here at 9. Your report was better, but try to limit prepositional phrases.”

  He groaned. If anything, his client’s imperious tone strengthened his resolve of the previous night. He would give up fanciful cases like Miss Winterjoy’s, he would stop retrieving pets, and he would establish himself as a serious detective worthy of serious cases. He frowned at the Bolton residence, willing Mr. Bolton to appear at the front door, leap outside, and break dance down the walkway. Kalico placed his hand on his camera. He would capture him in the act and save the insurance company thousands of dollars. He tensed as the Bolton’s lights came on. The front door opened. He held his breath and raised the camera. Mrs. Bolton appeared, said something over her shoulder, and walked outside in a blue robe and fuzzy slippers to get the paper.

  Two hours later, Kalico returned to his office, completed the Bolton report, and filled out an invoice for Lone Star.

  ”M’s.” he called. “Would you come in here for a moment?”

  M’s appeared in the doorway. A loose-fitting, dark blue and white shift over a black t-shirt and black leggings adorned her thin body. Emerald green socks peaked over the tops of well-worn Converse high top sneakers. She tucked a strand of silky, green hair behind her ear. “Okay, I know I went over the top, but you should see the positive buzz…”

  “Over the top on what”

  “Oh. You haven’t read…? Never mind. What did you need, boss?”

  M’s never called him boss. “Over the top on what?” he repeated.

  M’s sighed, leaned over his desk, and hit a couple of keys on his computer, to pull up her blog. A bold headline screamed:

  “Kalico Kaptures Kapricious Eskape Artist”

  Beneath it there were two pictures. On the left, a tearful Mrs. Buonanotte hugged a soulful, doe-eyed Zoe. On the right, a foolishly grinning Kalico, red hair standing on end, accepted a lavish kiss from the terrier-mix. Kalico scanned the text:

  Last night our intrepid detective traced the whereabouts of the five-time repeat offender and master escape artist, Zoe Buonanotte. After spotting the canny canine several blocks from her home, Kalico gave chase, risking life and limb—well, at least limb—as he raced after her through the mean streets of a dark, South Austin neighborhood….

  Dazed, Kalico frowned, grimaced, then, to M’s relief, chuckled. “Where did you get these pictures? And when did your writing become so, so…”

  “Mrs. Buonanotte sent me the pictures last night. She said that you forgot and that she wanted the world to see what a remarkable job you do.”

  “I didn’t forget,” Kalico grumbled. “I decided that we need to downplay the pet retrieval part of the business. We need serious clients—ones with money.”

  “Of course,” M’s nodded. “And Miss Winterjoy suggested…”

  “Miss Winterjoy?”

  “Yes. She praised my blog and suggested that I add a more literary flair to my writing. The responses have been great.” She smiled.

  Kalico yanked at his hair. Miss Winterjoy. He had four more days of putting up with her interference and bossiness—it felt like a lifetime. But he liked seeing M’s smile—he could almost see the girl who used to play with his sisters in their family room. To M’s he said, “Please tone it down a bit, but good work on the blog. I have to report to Miss Winterjoy’s house.” He sighed. “Here’s a To Do list. I want you to compile a list of law firms in our area. Focus on smaller ones—they’re more likely not to have in-house detectives. Then, draft a letter of introduction for me. And, please, make sure this invoice is mailed today. I’ll be back by early afternoon.”

  “Will do.”

  “Ghost seems to have gone to ground. Did the neighbors in Travis Country Circle have news of our boy?”

  M’s shook her head. “One man reported that a half of a chicken was stolen right off his grill. He thinks that he saw a flash of white disappearing into the brush. And several cats are missing: they suspect coyotes.”

  “I wonder if Ghost has learned to hunt.”

  “The manager of the Blue Valley Recreational Area said he’d post Ghost’s picture and keep an eye out when he walks the trails.” She paused to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. “I thought, maybe, that I would hike there later today.” At Kalico’s thoughtful silence, she rushed on, “I’d like to do more field work. I know we could use the bonus money.”

  “M’s, I’d appreciate the help—as long as it does not interfere with your school work. But not by yourself right now and not with Ghost. If the husky has discovered his inner wolf, he could be dangerous.”

  M’s shrugged, disappointed.

  “I’ve got to meet Miss Winterjoy.” He turned at the door. “How’d the exam go?”

  M’s grimaced. “I won’t know until next week.”

  “Why not come over to my folks’ house this evening? It’s pizza and movie night. All of my sisters will be home, and Katie says she needs another vote against the latest Nicholas Sparks’ movie.”

  M’s hesitated. Kalico watched conflicting emotions play across her face before it hardened into impassivity. “Can’t tonight,” was all that she said.

  Kalico shrugged and left, the question he’d been wanting to ask unspoken: What happened to you, Melissa?

  ***

  Miss Winterjoy opened her front door before Kalico had a chance to knock and ushered him into her dining room. The corgis, Snow and Trey, danced around his feet, barking excitedly, refusing to quiet down until he had knelt and properly welcomed each boy with head pats and butt scratches.

  “Boys, settle!” commanded Miss Winterjoy. They settled. She motioned Kalico to a chair at a polished mahogany table. He settled too. Then she sat across from him, placed a pair of reading glasses on the tip of her nose, and opened a manila folder. She slid a copy of his latest report to him—marked in red—as she scanned the original.

  He looked down at a spider web of red ink. Individual words and whole phrases were crossed out. He flashed back to senior high school English and shuddered. Use active voice. Limit prepositional phrases. Add concrete detail here. Comments filled the margins. At the bottom: Strong organization of facts. Style shows improvement. Kalico felt ridiculously pleased by the praise. He took a breath, ready to speak, but Miss Winterjoy, eyes still on the report, held up a hand. Kalico stayed silent.

  A slight motion behind his client caught his attention. An elegant calico cat was perched on the china cabinet. She sat up straight with her tail wrapped around her front paws. Ears were alert and golden eyes stared into his.<
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  “Perdita, come and meet Mr. Kalico,” invited Miss Winterjoy.

  The cat yawned.

  “You have clearly organized and presented the facts of Nancy’s automobile accident.” She gazed at him over the tops of her glasses. “I am pleased that you note, and I quote, the possibility of her brakes having been tampered with. You also acknowledge that Connor had the opportunity to sabotage her car. Good.”

  “But, Miss Winterjoy…”

  She held up a hand to silence him. “I recognize that you are not convinced that someone is trying to harm Mrs. MacLeod. But I can see that you are keeping an open mind—and that is all I ask.”

  “I will follow up on the car accident, and I intend to interview Mrs. MacLeod about the first incident. But,” Kalico shrugged. “Accidents happen. Opportunity does not equal motive. Besides, other people—including the garage mechanics—had access to her car.”

  “True. But Connor knew that I would not be driving us to our book group that night. He’d know that his grandmother does not like driving at night anymore.”

  “Did anyone else know that Nancy would be driving herself?”

  “No.” Miss Winterjoy frowned. “But…”

  “But what?” he encouraged.

  “Nothing. Now, let’s plan out your next move.”

  Ten minutes later, Kalico had his marching orders, and, as he expected, they included yard work. But this time he was prepared: he pulled work gloves and a cap from his back pocket as he exited the house.

  Miss Winterjoy observed Kalico as he put on a baseball cap and work gloves, grabbed the loppers that she had placed on the front porch for him, and climbed a ladder, and began to prune the giant shrub from the corner of her roof. “Down, boys,” she said absent-mindedly to the dogs who ignored her and continued to scratch at the front door. “What do you think of him, Perdita?” The cat rubbed her head against her owner’s legs and purred. “I like him too.” She sighed. She hoped again that she was imagining that Nancy was in danger, but the knots in her stomach belied that hope. She pulled back the front curtain. Kalico was walking over to the MacLeod’s—right on time. At least she is safe for now, she thought.

  Kalico knocked on Nancy MacLeod’s green front door and waited. A dog began to bark, and he heard. Moody, quiet! Moody, down. Down! Nancy opened the door and smiled a greeting as she held a wiggling tan and white Jack Russell terrier by the collar. “Why, Benjamin. What a nice surprise! Moody, quiet!” Moody continued to bark.

  “Good morning, Mrs. MacLeod. I just finished pruning Emelia’s ligustrum and wondered if you’d like me to lower a couple of the shrubs from your roof?”

  “How thoughtful.” She smiled and pushed the screen door open. “Come in and greet Moody. I have breakfast on the stove.”

  He lowered his hand for the dog to sniff, accepted a lick on the hand, then followed Nancy to a sunny yellow and white kitchen where bacon and eggs were sizzling. His stomach growled. Today she was dressed in white pants, and a white tee-shirt, with a gauzy, long-sleeved white over-top. Soft brown curls, touched with gray framed her face.

  “Emelia is afraid that I’ll climb the ladder and do the pruning myself, isn’t she?”

  Kalico shrugged.

  “I took a little tumble a few weeks ago, and my hip still hurts, so my balance is off,” Nancy explained. “So, yes, I would appreciate you taming those monster shrubs. Did you know that ligustrum can grow to over forty feet?”

  “I believe it. But I’m sorry you hurt your hip.” Kalico followed the opening that Miss Winterjoy had predicted. “What happened?”

  “Just a stupid accident.” Nancy moved to the refrigerator, took out three eggs, and broke them into the frying pan. “You’ll join us for breakfast, won’t you? My grandson, Connor, will be down in a moment.” She took out a plate, a juice glass, and silver and set a third place at her counter high breakfast table. “Please, sit.”

  Miss Winterjoy’s instructions played in Kalico’s head as he pulled up a chair. Now Nancy will invite you for breakfast and that will give you a good chance to question her about her first accident and—if we’re lucky—for you to meet Connor.” Aloud he said, “It smells good. Thanks.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Please. Black.” Nancy placed crisp bacon on paper towels to drain and turned the flame under the eggs on low. Then she poured two cups of coffee and joined Kalico at the table. “Connor! Breakfast is almost ready,” she called in a clear, high voice.

  There was no response.

  “Now, where was I?”

  “You were going to tell me about your accident,” Kalico prompted.

  “Oh, yes.” She frowned. “Something woke me at about 2 a.m. I suppose it was Connor coming home from work. I decided to get up and come downstairs for a glass of juice––something I do most nights. I remember taking a glass from the cupboard and stepping toward the refrigerator when my foot slipped out from under me, the glass shattered on the tile, and I landed hard on my left hip.”

  “That had to hurt!”

  “Yes, indeed.” Nancy moved to the stove and removed the eggs from the burner. “Connor!” she called again, before spooning fluffy scrambled eggs onto Kalico’s plate, accompanied by crisp bacon. “But mainly, it was frightening. I couldn’t get up. I felt like that poor, old woman in the commercial: ‘Help me! I can’t get up!’” She frowned and sighed at the memory. “Poor Moody did not know what to do. She barked and whined, then she just curled up next to me.”

  “What did you do?” Kalico took a mouthful of eggs. “These are delicious, by the way.” Moody gently placed a paw on his knee.

  “Thank you. Moody, no begging.” The dog kept her paw on his knee., and Kalico slipped a small piece of bacon to her. “I tried to pull myself up, but the pain was intense, so I began yelling for help, and then Connor came…”

  As if on cue, Conner came into the kitchen and slumped into a chair.

  “Good morning, dear.” Nancy’s face glowed with pride. “Benjamin, this is my grandson, Connor. He’s a junior at UT. Connor, say hello to Benjamin Kalico.”

  “Hey.” He did not look up from his smart phone.

  “Hey.” Kalico took the opportunity to observe Miss Winterjoy’s prime suspect, who began to devour his breakfast, eyes still fixed on his phone. He was tall and angular like his grandmother, dressed in jeans and a purple Keep Austin Weird t-shirt, and he seemed to be only partially awake. “Your grandmother was telling me about her fall, and how you saved the day,” he prompted.

  Connor frowned at his grandmother. “Lucky I heard her with my bedroom door closed. Gran, you need to get one of those alert buttons. God knows how long you would’ve been on that floor…”

  “I’m not some old woman who needs to wear an alert button around her neck,” Nancy replied rather sharply. “And, please, put that phone away.”

  Connor stared more intently at his phone, thumbs moving furiously.

  “Connor! No phones at the table. Put it away now.” Nancy stared at his lowered head until he looked up. Their eyes locked; he looked away first and placed his phone in his pocket.

  “Benjamin is here to trim the shrubs for me,” she said pointedly, changing the subject.

  “I told you that I’d do the darn shrubs.” Connor continued to shovel eggs into his mouth.

  “That was two weeks ago.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the table. Kalico watched the dynamics thoughtfully.

  Moody barked, breaking the silence and jumped to her feet, then the doorbell rang, signaling visitors. Nancy rose to answer the door.

  “So you live with your grandmother.” Kalico observed and smiled.

  “Yea.”

  “I’m considering moving back in with my folks until business picks up,” Kalico confided ruefully.

  Connor looked up. “Think hard before you do it, man. I mean, it’ll save you money but there’s a price.”

  Women’s voices mingled, laughing and chatting in the front hallway.

/>   “What price?”

  Connor was about to respond when his phone buzzed, and Kalico lost him again to the screen. Done texting, the young man rose, and grabbed another piece of bacon. “I have to get to class.”

  Nancy bustled back into the kitchen. “That was the girls delivering books for our charity flea market.” She turned to Connor. “Oh, do you have leave already? What time will you be home? Shall I keep dinner warm?”

  Conner put a backpack over his shoulder. “I gotta run. Big stats test.” He strode quickly to the front door.

  “But dinner?”

  “I have the late shift at the restaurant.”

  Nancy sighed and turned to Kalico who was placing his dishes in the sink. “Don’t bother with the dishes. I’m just going to put them in the dishwasher.” She absentmindedly placed her plate on the floor for Moody to clean. “Poor boy,” she said looking toward the front door. “He has such a busy schedule with school and work.”

  “Sounds like it.” Kalico waited, sensing that Nancy wanted to share something with him. She continued to stare at the front door.

  “I don’t know what I expected when I told my son that I would let Connor move in. You see, he got into a spot of trouble….” She sighed and shook her head. Kalico waited, but Nancy just smiled at him. “Now you go ahead and trim those shrubs before it gets too hot.”

  “I will. And thanks so much for the breakfast.”

  “You are very welcome.”

  Five minutes later, Kalico was atop a ladder wrestling a ligustrom. Each time he pruned a branch, another one seemed to spring up in its place. He leaned against the rooftop and went over what he had learned from his interactions with Nancy and Connor and could find little to suggest that Nancy’s fall was not an accident. Mrs. MacLeod moved gracefully and confidently around her home, but even the most coordinated people stumble. Connor appeared to be an ordinary twenty-something—a little monosyllabic and self-involved. Kalico wondered what ‘spot of trouble’ the young man had gotten into. And, he noted, Connor never made eye contact or thanked Nancy for breakfast. Poor manners would place him as Miss Winterjoy’s top suspect. His relationship with his grandmother was not without tension.