Due or Die Page 9

  She felt the puppy’s tail thump against her hip and she felt immediately better.

  “Come on, you’re going to need to work some charm on my landlady so she’ll let you stay. And here’s a tip, don’t piddle in the house.”

  A short yip was his only reply as they stepped into the foyer. The house was quiet. Lindsey wondered if Carrie was holed up with Nancy. If so, she didn’t want to disturb them. Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted to sneak the dog upstairs and then come tell Nancy he was here. Sort of give her a few minutes to digest the situation before she was confronted with his furriness.

  She crept up both flights of stairs and fumbled for her key. At the door, the puppy began to try to jump out of the bag as if he sensed they were home.

  “Don’t get so excited, this is temporary.”

  He didn’t appear to be listening. As soon as she opened the door, he bolted into the main room, nose to the ground, sniffing and running faster than his big paws could carry him.

  “Surprise!” a shout erupted from the couch, and Lindsey jumped with a small shriek of alarm.

  The puppy stopped in mid-sniff and looked at her as if to see if she was okay. With her hand on her chest, she staggered into the room. One more fright tonight and she’d probably keel over.

  The entire crafternoon club—Beth, Nancy, Violet, Charlene and Mary, plus Carrie—were there with a spread of food and an assortment of gift bags.

  “I’m sorry,” Lindsey said as she approached, hugging each woman in turn. “But I’m pretty sure my birthday is in May.”

  “This isn’t for you,” Violet said. She crouched down and waggled her fingers until the puppy approached, wagging his whole behind in greeting. “It’s for this poor little guy. Would you look at those eyebrows?”

  “He certainly does have some dark, brooding good looks,” Mary said. She handed Lindsey a gift bag and plopped down next to Violet.

  Lindsey warily peeked inside the bag. Inside was a collar and a leash in a bright shade of blue.

  “Mine next,” Nancy ordered and she hefted a large bag into Lindsey’s arms. Puppy food and two dishes.

  “But, Nancy, it’s your house; do you really want a puppy in here?” Lindsey asked.

  “Are you kidding? I love dogs.”

  “Let’s feed him,” Beth said. “The poor guy is probably starving.”

  “This was your doing, wasn’t it?” Lindsey asked.

  “I know you don’t want a dog,” Beth said as she walked over to the kitchenette and filled a bowl with water. “But even if you’re just going to foster him for a while, you need dog stuff. So, I’m assuming Sully was able to catch up to you and stall you?”

  Lindsey closed her eyes. So, that was why he’d shown up at the vet’s. It was his part of this mission to stall her. Fabulous, and just when she thought she couldn’t be any more embarrassed, wow, there was a whole new level of red-faced mortification to wallow in.

  Lindsey watched as her friends oohed and aahed over the boy. He was going to get a swelled head if this kept up.

  They had put out a lovely spread of people food on the kitchen counter, so she filled a plate with lasagna and salad while the dog dug into his chow and the ladies began to debate names for him.

  “No names,” Lindsey protested, taking a seat on the couch.

  “I like George,” Charlene said, ignoring her. “It’s a good dog’s name.”

  “No, Marley is a good dog’s name,” Beth said.

  “That Marley and Me book made me cry,” Lindsey said. “He can’t be a Marley.”

  “He should have a literary name,” Nancy said. “After all, he was found in the library.”

  Lindsey glanced over at Carrie, who was looking on the scene with some bemusement.

  “Yes, they’re always like this.”

  Carrie gave her a small smile. “It’s nice.”

  Lindsey blew out a feigned exasperated breath. She refused to admit that she was more than a little touched by her friends’ thoughtfulness.

  Violet wandered over to the bookshelves. She scanned Lindsey’s titles until she found what she was looking for. When she rejoined the group, she said, “I have it. Listen.”

  The room went silent as, in her best Broadway stage actress’s voice, Violet read aloud from a brown leather volume in Lindsey’s collection.

  “‘A ray fell on his features; the cheeks were sallow, and half covered with black whiskers; the brows lowering, the eyes deep-set and singular. I remembered the eyes.’”

  She looked down at the puppy as she read. He was still eating.

  “I give you Heathcliff,” Violet said. She snapped shut Lindsey’s volume of Emily Brontë’s famous tome Wuthering Heights.

  The room went silent. It was a treat to see Violet use her gifts, even if it was just a short paragraph. All eyes turned to the puppy, who lifted his head from his bowl and gave a mighty belch.

  He looked so proud of himself, Lindsey couldn’t help but laugh. The other ladies joined in and Mary said, “I think that means he approves.”

  “Heathcliff it is,” Charlene said.

  On that note, the ladies rose to go. Carrie and Nancy stayed behind to help clean up while Heathcliff sniffed around the apartment.

  “So, how did it go at the police station?” Lindsey asked as she wrapped up the lasagna.

  Carrie shrugged and sighed. “About as good as can be expected since I’m suspect number one.”

  “What? Why you?” Lindsey asked.

  “She’s the spouse,” Nancy said. “They always look at the family first.”

  “Well, they didn’t arrest you, that’s something, right?”

  “I don’t know,” Carrie said. She unclipped her long brown hair and shook it out. Then she scraped it back with her fingers and refastened it in a knot at the back of her head. “I have a feeling it’s only a matter of time.”

  Lindsey could tell by the quaver in her voice that she was afraid. She couldn’t blame her.

  “Listen, I have the name of a criminal defense attorney that was recommended to me when a friend looked like she might need him,” Lindsey said. She crossed the large room from the kitchenette to the small writing desk in the corner. It was a built-in desk and blended right into the wainscoting. It was one of the many reasons she had fallen in love with this apartment.

  She pulled out the fold-out top and searched through her address book until she found the name she was looking for. She wrote the information on a Post-it and handed it to Carrie.

  “If they call you in again, or even just to ease your mind, you need to call this man,” she said.

  “Is he expensive?” Carrie asked. “The kids’ tuitions have pretty much destroyed any retirement or savings that I had, and now with Markus, ugh, it sounds callus to even say, but without his disability check, I’ll probably lose the house.”

  She pressed her lips in a firm line as if she could clamp down the panic that was obviously consuming her.

  Lindsey put an arm around her shoulders, and Nancy leaned forward and patted her hand.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Lindsey said, afraid that she might be lying.

  “Of course it is,” Nancy said. But when she met Lindsey’s gaze, Lindsey could see the doubt dimming the usual sparkly blue irises.

  “It won’t hurt you to call at any rate,” Lindsey said.

  “I suppose not,” Carrie agreed. She gave them both a brave smile. “I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done. I feel safe here, and that is pretty amazing given that there is a killer out there somewhere.”

  “That reminds me.” Nancy dug into her jeans pocket and fished out two keys. “I had Ian Murphy put a new dead bolt on the front door. Here is a key for each of you. I know we usually leave the front door unlocked, but until this is resolved, I think we’d better get into the habit of keeping it locked. Agreed?”

  Lindsey and Carrie nodded as they each took a key.

  “Carrie, are you ready?” Nancy asked. “I’ll walk
you down.”

  Carrie nodded and Lindsey gave each of them a hug. One look at the dog—she was not going to start calling him Heathcliff—and she could tell he needed to go out. She dug through his pile of puppy gifts until she found the blue collar and leash.

  As if anticipating what was to come, the dog sat very still while she fitted the collar around his neck and then began to bounce on his large puppy feet while she tried to clip the leash on.

  “Sit, boy,” Lindsey said. “Sit.”

  He managed it for a second, but then excitement overtook him. Lindsey sighed. “We’re going to have to work on that. No, I mean, whoever your forever person is, they’ll have to work on that.”

  He thumped his tail and gazed at her with his dark eyes, and Lindsey pulled on her jacket, scarf and mittens, trying to harden her heart against his funny little face.

  It was a brisk walk outside to take care of business. Nancy’s backyard was a long one that ended in a cliff that overlooked the bay and the islands beyond. Lindsey took the opportunity to enjoy the smell of the sea—it was strong, signaling that the tide was coming in—and admire the stars that twinkled in the sky above.

  People had been muttering about a bad storm blowing in, but it was hard to imagine on this clear and quiet night.

  Once inside, Lindsey prepared for bed. She wasn’t sure what to do about the puppy. She didn’t know where he normally slept or where he would want to sleep. Mary had given her a flat fleecy dog bed. Lindsey figured she’d better put it in her bedroom, so he didn’t go chewing up her apartment during the night.

  “Okay, buddy,” she said as she draped a fluffy throw over the fleece bed, “you sleep here.”

  She patted the bed with her hand and he trotted over to sniff it. He seemed to get the idea as he climbed into it and did the circling thing that dogs do.

  “Good night, little fella,” she said as she climbed into bed.

  Lindsey had shut out the light and was just drifting off when she felt the foot of the bed sag. She figured she had two options, either turn on the light and get the boy back in his bed or ignore him. The poor guy had had a rough day and it was bitterly cold. Even with the heat on, the apartment wasn’t getting much warmer than sixty-two degrees.

  Her bed was big enough, he would make it warmer, and besides, it wasn’t as if he was staying. Bed training him would be someone else’s problem. She burrowed into her flannel sheets and tried not to think about why that made her sad.

  CHAPTER

  13

  BRIAR CREEK

  PUBLIC LIBRARY

  The feel of hot breath across her chest woke Lindsey the next morning. Heathcliff, or rather the puppy, was dead asleep with his head on her shoulder. She felt her mouth curve up in a smile. He was a snuggler. How cute was that?

  She glanced down and his fuzzy head tickled her chin. He was lying pressed close beside her, and she wondered if he had been cold or scared during the night and had sought comfort in closeness. Either way, she knew she was going to have to find a home for him and fast. He was too charming for his own good, and despite what Tom the vet had said about pit bulls or pit bull mixes being put down just because they had pit bull bloodlines, she knew she’d be able to find someone to take this sweet young dog.

  With that in mind, she got them both suited up to go outside. She was standing in the backyard with him when Nancy poked her head out of the back door and called her over.

  “What are you going to do with Heathcliff while you’re at work today?”

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t really figured it out yet,” Lindsey answered. Nancy was holding out a steaming cup of coffee to her, and Lindsey took it with a grateful smile.

  “Leave him with me,” Nancy said. “I’ll puppy sit for you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. Honestly, it’ll make me feel safer to have a barker around.”

  Lindsey glanced across the yard. All of the houses on this street were old and big and sat on very large lots. She had never noticed before how isolated they all were, probably because when Charlie was in residence, the horde of musicians that came and went were nonstop, making the place feel as busy as the New Haven train station. Until now, the quiet had been a nice reprieve. Now it was just creepy.

  “He’s all yours,” Lindsey said. “I took a picture of him this morning. I’m going to put up some flyers and see if anyone is missing him. Hopefully, he’ll be reunited with his people soon.”

  Nancy pursed her lips but said nothing. As the puppy trotted into Nancy’s first-floor apartment, to be spoiled rotten no doubt, Lindsey raced upstairs to get ready for work, dropping off Heathcliff’s essentials with Nancy on the way out.

  Things were quiet at the library. Maybe it was just the hullabaloo of the day before, or perhaps the crazy events of the week, but Lindsey found herself relieved to be answering normal questions on the reference desk and writing up her weekly report for the mayor’s office.

  It was midafternoon and she had just called Nancy to make sure the puppy was behaving—he was—when she heard two women talking over by the new-book area.

  She recognized one as being on the high school PTA, but the other woman was a new face, not a regular library user. They both appeared to be in their late forties, with the requisite rounded figures and hair dyed improbable shades of blond to hide the gray.

  “Well, I heard that she was having an affair,” the PTA woman whispered to the other.

  “Really?” the woman asked.

  “Marjorie didn’t say, but I got the feeling it was an inappropriate liaison,” the PTA woman said. “I’ll bet she was sleeping with a married man, probably one of the doctors at the hospital where she works. You know, she always works the night shift.”

  The woman’s voice was sly, as if working nights was proof of anything.

  “Do you think poor Markus knew?”

  “I doubt it,” the other woman said. “He trusted her so completely, besides the poor man never left his house. He was disabled, you know.”

  “I didn’t,” the other woman clucked. “Do you think she shot him so that she could be with her doctor?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, if her doctor is married, he’d have to leave his wife, wouldn’t he?”

  “Oh, I just had a horrid thought,” the other woman said. “If Carrie shot Markus to be free of him, would she shoot her doctor if he refused to be with her or would she shoot his wife?”

  “Oh, dear,” the PTA woman said. “We could have a serial killer on our hands.”

  Lindsey felt her teeth set. She didn’t like gossip as a rule, especially malicious gossip about a friend. Since one of the women had mentioned Marjorie’s name, she got the feeling Batty Bilson was the one planting the seeds of the malicious talk.

  Knowing that it was none of her business, Lindsey rose from her seat anyway and approached the two women.

  “Good afternoon,” she said. “Was there anything you needed help finding?”

  The two women looked startled at her approach, sort of like kids caught pilfering cookies out of the cookie jar when they’ve already been told it’s too close to dinner.

  “Uh, no, I’m good,” the PTA woman said. She held up a current bestseller.

  “Well, there’s a young adult series called Gossip Girl that is quite the gripping read, if you’re interested,” Lindsey said.

  The PTA woman had the grace to blush while the other one gave Lindsey an irritated look and said in a rather snotty tone, “I’m fine, but thanks so much for your concern.”

  “Anytime,” Lindsey smiled. Okay, it was really more a showing of teeth, but she figured she should get points for trying.

  She turned and headed back to the reference desk. A glance at the circulation desk and she saw Ann Marie give her a sly thumbs-up from behind her computer.

  So, Ann Marie had heard their conversation, too.

  Lindsey shook her head. How could anyone believe that Carrie would cheat on her husband and kill him? Truly,
it mystified, especially if Batty Bilson was the source of the gossip. Everyone knew the woman was a few slices short of a loaf; how could they listen to her?

  She was not surprised to see the two women leave the library shortly thereafter. When the doors slid open again a few minutes later, she glanced up and had to smile as Edmund Sint made his way into the building, looking as if the drafty bitter air from outside was chasing him into the library’s welcoming warmth.

  He unwrapped the plaid scarf from about his neck and pulled off his leather gloves as he approached the desk.

  “Hi, Edmund,” Lindsey said. “What brings you in this afternoon?”

  “This freezing weather has put me in the mood for a noir mystery,” he said. “Who can you recommend?”

  “That depends. Are you looking for old-school Mickey Spillane or modern Ian Rankin?”

  “Hmm, let’s go modern,” Edmund said.

  “Follow me,” Lindsey said.

  She walked him over to the fiction shelves.

  “I’m surprised to find the library still open,” he said.

  “Oh? Why’s that?” she asked as she crouched to find the selection of Rankin titles.

  “The weatherman said a nor’easter is coming,” he said. “That’s why I need to stock up on reading material in case the power goes out. Uncle Bill’s library is a dead bore. I need something to keep me entertained if we get snowed in, otherwise I’ll be stir-crazy within hours.”

  “A nor’easter?” Lindsey frowned. She had heard there was a snow storm in the forecast but nothing as dramatic as a nor’easter, which typically brought hurricane-force winds and arctic cold.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she said. “I’d better go check on this.”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “It’s already started snowing.”

  Sure enough, now that she stood close to him, she could see the damp spots on his jacket where the snowflakes had already melted.

  Lindsey hurried back to her desk. A glance at the window and she could see the swirling snow falling outside. She hadn’t really paid it much attention before. She quickly brought up the weather website on her computer and typed in the zip code for Briar Creek.