Changing of the Guard Dog Read online

  John and Officer Statler had a few more questions for me. I remembered the impression of movement in the beach grass and told them about that.

  “Whose pocket is this from?” Officer Statler asked.

  “Tuxedo man,” I said, jerking my head in the direction of the original victim.

  “Did you hear the one that attacked you say anything to his partner?” John asked, pointing to the carnage on the sand. “Or did the other man say anything?”

  “No,” I said, looking down at the second victim. His lank hair was light brown. The sides and back were cut short, and the top was longer. “You think they were partners?” The man who had been shot was around the age of the drowned man, but the similarities stopped there. Whereas the first victim had seemed robust, he was wiry and pasty. “If that was a partnership, it was past its sell-by date.” I spoke slowly, trying to get clear on why I thought that.

  “Not what I would call a good working relationship,” Shelby said.

  I bit my lip hard and managed not to cry. For every person who tries to kill you, there’s a friend who knows just what to say. I didn’t want sentimentality or drama. Her little joke had been perfect.

  I cleared my throat. “I got the impression they knew one another.” I thought about the way the second victim had looked at the man who, mere minutes later, was to be his killer. Maybe, just maybe, his dim expression had been fawning.

  “It seems the man who fled was holding you down to give victim two time to go through victim one’s pockets, probably looking for that thumb drive—but you’re right, we don’t know their relationship yet.” As John spoke, he occasionally patted his own pockets. He was looking for his trusty notepad. How many other idiosyncrasies did we track on each other? We had been officially dating since the last murder in our little beach town of Lewes.

  “Wouldn’t it have made more sense to shoot me?” I asked.

  “Kind of,” Shelby offered.

  Everyone looked at her.

  “Shelby!” Kate said.

  “Sorry,” she apologized.

  I moved over to hug her. “Ah, it’s okay. He was trying to drown me, so it’s not like he had a problem resorting to violence.” I laughed and shook my head. That was when I glanced at Bernice and Robber and noticed how the two dogs were behaving.

  It’s not in a dog’s nature to act sneaky, but both Bernice and Robber bobbed their heads rather than keeping eye contact. They moved close, then backed away. “Hey, you two,” I said, going to stand in front of them. I reached under the Bernese Mountain Dog’s chin and lifted it to see her face better. “Drop it.” She opened her massive jaws and a cell phone fell out onto the sand. I looked over at Officer Statler, knowing John wouldn’t want this job, and she already had a plastic bag out of her pocket. She reached down and scooped the phone into it.

  “Hmm, whose phone is that?” John asked. He was still looking at me, but I think talking mostly to himself.

  “It could belong to either of the dead men or to the guy who ran away,” Shelby said.

  Now it was the collie’s turn. “Robber, do you have anything for me?” I asked.

  Who? Me?

  I knew Kate’s dog well enough to reach for her mouth. She automatically opened up and I pulled the strip of fabric off her fanglike canine teeth, or cuspids. Officer Statler had another bag at the ready and I put the navy cloth in it.

  “Kate, you didn’t give him a command to do this, did you?” I asked, though I knew the answer. “To chase the man and attack him?”

  “No, I don’t know what that would be.” Dogs have a drive to protect, and their inherent aggression has to be channeled. At Buckingham’s we do that by training pet parents to be the leader of the pack.

  The image of my attacker firing his gun at the dogs flashed in front of my eyes and I cringed.

  “Sue,” John said. “I think you should go to the hospital to be checked out.”

  “Exactly how bad do I look?” I asked. He didn’t answer, which told me either I really looked beat up or he was thinking about everything he needed to be doing thanks to not one but two dead men on Lewes Beach.

  “Okay,” I said. “Can someone give me a—”

  “You’ll go?” John asked, astonished. His attention was off his to-do list, and he leaned closer to look into my eyes. “I mean, just like that?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “What’s going on in that head?” Then he looked at the dogs. “You’re going to ask if anyone has come in to be treated for a dog bite, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe.” Obviously, I was no better at keeping secrets than the dogs were.

  “I’ll go with her,” Shelby said. “Kate, would you take Bernice to Buckingham’s? Lady Anthea and Dana are there.”

  Kate agreed, and took Robber’s leash from around her shoulders and hooked him up. Then she did the same with the leash Shelby handed her. I watched as she retraced her steps down the beach to the parking lot, both dogs ambling alongside her, not a care in the world.

  I turned to John. “So, we have two murders to solve.”

  “Wrong on both counts. There’s no we.” He pointed to the man in the tuxedo. “And this one could have been an accidental drowning.”

  I shook my head. “They were both murdered.”

  John shook his head, too. “Could be somebody helped him drown, but I don’t want to turn him over just yet to see.”

  Officer Statler interrupted us. “The cavalry’s here.” She motioned to the opening in the berm and we saw the crime scene techs and medical examiner’s office investigators, who would perform scene investigation, filing through.

  I had to talk fast. “Are you saying the second victim just showed up here? And his killer? It’s too much of a coincidence to think the guy just washed up where he could be found, since where a body washes up is pretty unpredictable.” I swung my arm in an arc. “Everything is wrong about this.”

  “He could have been going for the guy’s wallet or his watch,” John said.

  I didn’t answer. His scenario didn’t feel right, but I wasn’t clear on why I couldn’t buy it. All I knew for sure was that my attacker was out there somewhere, and as long as he was, there would be a finger on the trigger of a gun and a knee on my back and a hand holding my head under water.

  Chapter 3

  I checked the time on the computer monitor and groaned to Shelby and Dana. “I thought they only needed the room for three hours. They’ve been in there over four.” Last month during an episode of community spirit and temporary insanity, I’d agreed to let a senior citizens’ group use one of our rooms for a few hours to hold a driving skills refresher class.

  Shelby shrugged. “I’m surprised Charles Andrews is putting up with it, even if it does get him a discount on his car insurance.”

  I groaned. She was talking about one of the oldest citizens in Lewes, and the most cantankerous. “I bet Lady Anthea is regretting signing up for the class,” I said. “I’m surprised she hasn’t bolted.”

  “Why did she want to waste her time on an American driver’s ed class anyway?” Dana asked. She wore black leggings, a white oxford shirt with our logo, and hiking boots, along with a green Buckingham’s sweatshirt tied around her narrow waist. She, like Mason, our lead groomer and one of the best on the Delaware coast, used fashion to communicate.

  “She thinks it’ll help her learn to drive over here,” I answered. “If she starts coming over more often she’ll want to be more independent.”

  I rubbed my cheek. It still burned from the abrasion and I pictured grains of sand hiding in my skin, though I’d been assured by Shelby and Dana that wasn’t the case. All that was on my skin was skin. Every time I closed my eyes I felt I was back under water. I couldn’t stop replaying the attack in my head. “The conductor for the Potomac Symphony Orchestra retired and it was a big deal to see him at his las
t concert. She had already scheduled her yearly visit for that, so the timing worked out for the class. Or at least that was the plan.”

  “I saw that in the newspaper,” Shelby said. “His name is Daniel Laurent. Was she disappointed when he backed out and they assigned a mystery conductor to us?”

  “No, she has the inside scoop on who the mystery conductor is and she’s thrilled. This guy sounds like the Elvis of classical music,” I said. “He’s also a composer and she said he’s going to debut his latest right here in Lewes this week. She said hearing it was on her music bucket list.”

  “A music bucket list?” Shelby asked. “Like hearing Jimmy Buffet in Key West?”

  “Yeah, or going to Graceland,” I answered.

  “Or the Spice Girls reuniting and singing at a royal wedding,” Dana added. “But still, she came to see a famous conductor and we have another murder. Plus, she’s stuck in a class with an almost-ninety-year-old woman who doesn’t know when enough is enough.” She looked at her high-tech watch. “Ugh.”

  “Maybe they’re wrapping up.” Choosing to ignore their skepticism, I slid off the stool and walked down the hall to the playroom ordinarily reserved for puppies. I listened in and heard Charles Andrews shout to someone, “Oh, grow a pair!” He had a rather singular command of the English vernacular for a man in his eighties and he was not afraid to use it, but I had never heard him use that language in front of So-Lo and So-Long, his Dachshunds. He had insisted on bringing the dogs. They were probably a distraction because they’re so cute, but since this was, after all, Buckingham Pet Palace we could hardly tell him no. Not that he had asked for our okay.

  I opened the door enough to lean in and scan the room to see who he was talking to. The instructor was a woman about Mr. Andrews’s age. Her white hair was pulled into a neat bun and what makeup she wore had been expertly applied, though with a rather heavy hand. She had partnered a wine-colored pantsuit with berry lipstick, indicating effort and maybe even a little cunning. How had she taken his outburst?

  Charles was staring down a couple of younger men. They were probably in their fifties, mere pups compared to the others in the class. One wore round metal-frame eyeglasses and his friend sported facial hair that was either a neatly trimmed beard or stubble. I couldn’t make the distinction from where I stood. Charles Andrews wasn’t done. “If you have something to say, say it. You’re adults, for Pete’s sake! Put your hands down!”

  One then the other looked to the instructor for her support, or perhaps protection. She ignored them, keeping her eyes glued to Mr. Andrews. The younger men exchanged looks with one another, and by consensus, slowly lowered their raised hands. “We were just waiting to be called on,” one said.

  I was dying to get Lady Anthea’s take on the exchange but all I could see was the back of her head. We’d debrief tonight over drinks.

  The instructor smiled at Charles Andrews and, I swear, batted her mascaraed eyelashes. I couldn’t stomach any more of what looked like fawning over the crankiest man in town and went back to the calm of the reception desk.

  “Symphony orchestra!” I yelled. Dana and Shelby turned and stared at me. “The murdered guy in the tux! He’s got to be in the symphony!”

  Dana jumped up from her stool and pointed a finger at me. “Legitimate,” she declared. Then she angled the laptop on the desk to reach it better and started typing.

  “Thanks,” I answered. “I kept trying to think of a restaurant in Lewes where the waitstaff wears a tux, but we’re not that kind of town.”

  “Yeah,” Shelby agreed. “That’s too far even for Rehoboth Beach.” Her cell phone pinged and she read the text message. “This is from Mason. He wants to know what’s going on with the investigation.”

  “How does he know about the body, I mean bodies? Shelby, did you tell him?” She shook her head.

  “Is it on the internet already?”

  Same negative response from Shelby.

  Then I saw that Dana had lowered her head a few inches and was typing even faster, causing her natural hair to sway.

  “Daaaana?” I called.

  Before I could say more, the two sets of double doors opened and Chief Turner came in, now wearing his uniform.

  “I may have mentioned it to Mason and Joey,” Dana said, sheepishly. “I love that Bernice and Robber saved you.”

  I shook my head in mock exasperation.

  “So do I,” John said with a slow grin. “Sue, how are you feeling?”

  “Fine.” I even shrugged a shoulder to reinforce my it-was-no-big-deal, whopper-lie version of how I really was.

  “Mason says his friend at the hospital reported in and still no dog bite patients,” Shelby said, reading from her phone.

  “Did he say what he was wearing?” Dana asked, to which Shelby shook her head no.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Tell him to keep up the good work.”

  John was pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

  “Isn’t this where you say we’re not to get involved?” I asked.

  “This isn’t like the last time when you found yourselves in the middle of a murder investigation.” He was back in full-metal Chief Turner mode, addressing the three of us.

  “The last two times,” Dana corrected him.

  “Whatever,” he said. When he spoke again, his words were clipped. “What happened on the beach this morning was professional and not at all like the others. We don’t have much information on the first victim yet, but what you witnessed was murder in cold blood, and it has me worried.” He shook his head and exhaled, like he was trying to get control of a mental image. “Anyway, I just dropped by to be sure Beebe Hospital gave you a clean bill of health.”

  I gave my tablet a jiggle to wake it up and nodded, feeling John’s eyes inspecting my face.

  “Were you able to read the USB drive?” Shelby asked.

  John turned his gaze to her. He had progressed from suspicious to certain, all because of the way she’d hopped to a new topic of conversation. “Crime lab has it,” he answered. “Sue, you did go to the hospital, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “What did the doctor say?”

  “I didn’t exactly see a doctor.”

  “So, what did the nurse say?”

  “I wouldn’t say I saw a nurse.”

  “Who looked you over then?”

  “The guys in valet parking,” Shelby said, laughing out loud.

  Dana gave her a high five and then leaned over to me. “Niiiiice.”

  “They’re high school kids!” John yelled.

  “They’re seniors in high school,” Dana explained.

  He rolled his eyes to show he was still not impressed, even with the addition of this new credential.

  “Most of them are football players,” she added.

  “Well, with detective credentials like that around town, I’m thinking I better dust off my resume,” he said.

  Dana and Shelby laughed and I did, too. “Think about it,” I said. “They see everyone coming in or leaving. A doctor or nurse would only be able to tell me about their own patients.”

  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ll send someone over to talk to them.”

  “No need. Mason and Joey are on it,” Dana assured him.

  He rolled his eyes. “I want that parking lot scanned for the car that picked up the shooter. I should have thought of that first thing.” He walked away to call his dispatcher, then came back to the desk. “So, what did the guys in valet parking have to say?”

  “No dog bites today,” I said. “To make it up to you, I think I know something about the first victim. We think he was in the symphony orchestra that’s performing in Lewes this weekend.”

  Before he could praise me for cracking the case wide open, the doors to the puppy playroom were flung open
with such force they hit the golf course-green hall walls. So many feet were stampeding toward the lobby that it sounded like Pamplona’s running of the bulls. Dana, Shelby and I were protected by the desk. Chief Turner jumped back. Only a fool would have stood still. A parade of about twenty or thirty men and women stormed from the hallway into the lobby, passing us without saying goodbye, headed for the front door. They looked like supercompetitive racewalkers pumping their arms, bent at ninety degrees. Some took quick looks back, aware of the fact that they didn’t have to be first out, but they’d better not be last. The fact that Buckingham’s has inner and outer doors before you can exit created a bottleneck, backing up the lobby with angry citizens.

  The two men Charles Andrews had yelled at were in the middle of the throng, scowling and huffing.

  “I cannot believe the nerve of that man!” one fumed.

  “Neither can I!” his friend replied.

  Shelby, Dana and I exchanged glances.

  “We’re right there with you,” Dana muttered. Every time Charles Andrews brought So-Long in for day camp there was some fresh abuse to be tolerated. So-Lo, a senior dog, usually stayed home, but was here today.

  Next came the two Dachshunds, sprinting on their short little legs. That surprised me because Mr. Andrews rarely let them out of his sight, since he believed no one knew anything about dog care other than himself. Had he told the two dogs to run ahead and save themselves? The mystery was swiftly solved, though, when he followed them, not speaking but silently shooing them with his two hands.

  The instructor ran up the hallway, waving a stack of papers over her head. “Your certificates!” she yelled.

  “Keep ’em,” someone in the group growled over his shoulder.

  The room had cleared except for a few stragglers, including the two men Charles had told to “grow a pair,” who had stepped aside. “Should we go back and get them so we are eligible for the discount?” He was either new to town or a weekender. I didn’t know him. He wore corduroy pants and a plaid flannel shirt. Seemingly of their own accord, my eyes went to his hands. They were thrust into his pockets.