Cause Fur Alarm Read online

  Cause Fur Alarm

  By Ally Roberts

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cause Fur Alarm

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2019

  Cover design by Alchemy Book Covers and Design

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author.

  Books by Ally Roberts

  ASKING FUR TROUBLE

  CAUSE FUR ALARM

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  ONE

  The stack of papers in my left hand felt wet.

  I didn’t know if it was because of the humidity, which was already feeling tropical despite the fact it wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning, or because I had broken out into a cold sweat.

  Probably a little bit of both.

  I tried to tell myself I had nothing to worry about. It was a stack of flyers. That was it.

  But I knew the things in my hands weren’t the cause of my nervousness...it was where I was planning to take them. Where I was currently walking, as a matter of fact.

  I must have slowed my pace because Trixie, who had been right by my side, her tail wagging and her nose permanently attached to the ground, was suddenly three feet ahead of me and had stopped to look back in my direction. With her head cocked and her dark eyebrows raised, I could absolutely read what she was thinking.

  Why did you slow down? What is taking you so long?

  I picked up my pace by the tiniest bit. “You wouldn’t understand,” I mumbled out loud.

  It was true. Trixie’s life was very…uncomplicated. She ate, she slept, she went for walks, and she played. Occasionally she had to suffer through the horror of a bath and the indignation of nail trims, and the annual trip to the vet, of course, but otherwise her life was pretty golden.

  She certainly didn’t have to worry about things like earning money, growing a small business, and approaching a woman who hated her to see about putting up flyers in the only pet establishment in town.

  But that was exactly what I was doing.

  I sucked in a breath, trying not to notice that my heart rate was increasing with each step I took toward the tiny downtown area of Sweetwater Island.

  Most of the shops and businesses were still closed, their storefronts dark or only lit by the limited lighting that had been left on overnight. It was June, prime tourist season, but few people were out and about so early on a Tuesday morning. A man and woman jogged by on the other side of the street, both of them clad in UNC shirts and black gym shorts, and an employee was unlocking the front door to the olive oil shop. Other than that, the sidewalks were empty.

  But the sun was shining, the air already thick with heat and moisture, and I knew the downtown area and the beaches would soon be swarming with residents and tourists alike. It was what happened to Sweetwater every summer, albeit on a much smaller scale than some of the other island communities in South Carolina.

  The lights to the olive oil store switched on just as I walked by, illuminating the sign taped to one of the front windows. I smiled. It was one of the flyers I’d dropped off for my dog walking business, the same ones now clutched in my hand. Terry, the owner, had offered to keep a stack at the counter but she’d also suggested she hang one in the window, too. Better visibility, she said. Since I only had three customers to date, I wasn’t about to refuse any offer of help.

  I had to admit, the flyer was eye-catching. The logo, the name, the bright colors and fonts I’d chosen...it all just worked. I’d come up with the name for my business on a whim. The Woof Pack. I’d spent an evening hunting for free, downloadable vectors and then, using my meager design skills, found and used a free graphic design site. The resulting flyer and matching business card had turned out far better than I’d ever expected.

  Seeing it now, taped up to the window, filled me with hope. Hope that this little business of mine was exactly what I needed to get my life turned around and back on track.

  Because heading back home to Sweetwater Island after a divorce, multiple failed attempts at getting a degree, and a slew of dead-end jobs, had left me feeling like I just might not be cut out for much of anything.

  I refocused on the flyer and then purposely made eye contact with the girl who was opening the store. She’d just slipped behind the counter and did a double take at my happy smile. She probably didn’t have a clue who I was but she smiled and offered a wave anyway. And then her eyes widened and suddenly she was hurrying toward the door.

  My heart surged. Maybe she was going to ask me about walking her own dog. Maybe she would be my next new client.

  Sure enough, she pushed open the door and said, “Hey, you’re the dog walker, right?”

  I nodded. The smile on my face felt like it stretched from ear to ear.

  “My mom’s friend was wondering if you had different rates for different animals.”

  I cocked my head. “Different animals?”

  The girl nodded. “Yeah. She has a ferret.”

  I blinked. “A…ferret?”

  “I guess he likes to go outside quite a bit, but she works and can’t fit it into her schedule. I know she was wondering if you had reduced rates for smaller animals.”

  I swallowed. I wasn’t even sure I could identify what a ferret looked like, and I had absolutely no idea what their temperament was like. Could they even be walked?

  I shuffled my feet as I tried to come up with the best response. “Well, um, I mostly walk dogs…”

  A frown creased the girl’s forehead. “Oh. So you won’t walk her ferret?”

  I started to shake my head, then stopped. I had no business turning down any client, not at this stage in the game. I didn’t know the first thing about ferrets, but I could learn. And I could definitely figure out a how to walk one if it meant there was cash tied to it.

  I forced a smile. “Have her call me. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  The girl returned the smile. “Awesome! Beebo is a great little guy.”

  I assumed Beebo was the name of the ferret.

  “And he’s only bitten me once!” She waved at me. “Good luck with your business. I’ve been telling everyone who comes in about it.” She hurried back inside.

  Trixie pulled me back out onto the sidewalk and we continued on our way.

  This was what life was like in Sweetwater. Everyone was nice. Warm. Welcoming.

  And just a little bit weird.

  I tried to focus on the warm and welcoming part. I’d been back in town barely a month, and nearly everyone, both old and new residents alike, had welcomed me back into the fold. It was almost as if I had never left. Which, of course I had—I’d left to pursue a degree I never got, to marry a man I ended up divorcing, and to move away from a town I ended up returning to. But none of those things really mattered to anyone here. They were happy to have me, regardless of the things that had sent me scurrying back home.

  Well, almost everyone was happy to have me in Sweetwater.

  My dad had days where I’m sure he questioned my reasons for returning. Since he questioned everything I did, I didn’t spend too much time worrying about him.

  And I knew Detective Owen Simcoe with the Sweetwater Police Department wasn’t my biggest fan. How
ever, it wasn’t my fault he’d jumped to conclusions and assumed I’d been involved in Caroline Ford’s death.

  Chief Chuck Ritter had too. In fact, they’d both made my first couple of weeks living on the island pure misery. I’d been a mess of nerves moving back home to begin with, but being the prime suspect in a woman’s murder had nearly sent me over the edge. Thankfully, a bit of sleuthing on my part had brought the real killer to justice, and the two members of the police department who’d seemingly been gunning to lock me up had immediately backed down. I wouldn’t say they were exactly friendly to me now but they weren’t following me around town, waiting to pounce on any perceived or real infraction, either.

  So, yes, they’d sheathed their claws.

  But Poppy Ritter, the chief’s wife and owner of Poppy’s Puppy Palace, had not.

  And she was the very person I was headed to see.

  My heart thudded against my ribcage and I tried to swallow past the lump that was beginning to form in my throat. I had no idea how Poppy was going to react to my request but I had a pretty good guess.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t something I could avoid doing. I needed to advertise if I wanted to find new clients for my dog walking business, and she had the best access to customers who might be interested in my services. I could plaster signs all over town, in every shop and store lining the picturesque streets of downtown Sweetwater, but if I wanted to give myself a real shot at the right eyes seeing my flyers, Poppy’s Puppy Palace was the place to be.

  Unless there were more ferrets in town that needed walking…

  The building I was headed toward was less than a block away now, a single-story white stone building lushly landscaped with palmettos and meticulously cared for flowerbeds. Trixie’s ears went into the radar position and I knew she could hear dogs barking from the outdoor area of the dog hotel. It was fenced off by a six-foot tall white picket fence but sound still traveled and it seemed as though there were quite a few pooches that had either been dropped off for daycare that morning or who were overnight boarders.

  Trixie whined and whinnied a little, and I knew she wanted to go play. She and Duke went on their twice-daily walks together, and I’d usually bring her with me on the days I went over to let John Fitzgerald’s two dogs out to play. And of course, she was always happy to see Arrow, the dog that had led me to Caroline Ford’s body and who was now happily living with Daniel, Caroline’s widowed almost-ex husband. I wrinkled my nose at the sound of that. I wondered what exactly he was? A widower? Just an ex-husband? Both? He and Caroline had been in divorce proceedings when she passed but had never finalized anything.

  I shook my head. It didn’t matter, at least not right then.

  I needed to focus. Get my breathing under control—which was nearing pre-hyperventilation stage—put on my friendliest smile, and stick to my guns.

  I was going to do my best to kill Poppy with kindness.

  And I was going to get my flyers up in her business if it was the last thing I did.

  TWO

  The interior of Poppy’s Puppy Palace was a sight to behold.

  Poppy Ritter had spared no expense on the furnishings and décor. Walking into her pet hotel was like stepping into a perfectly staged Instagram photo.

  I stood in the doorway, my heart beating erratically as a bell chimed, signaling my presence. Trixie tugged a little on the leash as she tried to drag me further into the entrance. Although I only smelled the subtle scent of lemon cleaner and the hint of freshly brewed coffee, I was sure her nose was already telling her just how many other canines were in the building.

  I glanced at the front counter, a beautifully stained wooden piece topped with a sleek marble countertop. Above it hung a stunning array of black and white photographs of different dogs, the frames mirroring the counter’s wood stain. They were as artfully arranged as if a professional interior designer had come in and lent her personal touch.

  Knowing Poppy, someone like that probably had.

  I took a cautious step toward the counter, wondering who would show up to greet me. I was hoping beyond hope that it wouldn’t be Poppy. If I could speak with one of her employees and give them the flyers, there was a chance they’d fly under the radar, at least long enough to get into the hands of some potential clients.

  But after standing there for a full two minutes, I wasn’t sure anyone was going to be coming to the front desk.

  I frowned. I knew the bell on the door had chimed when I walked in—I’d heard it myself—and it didn’t seem like great business protocol to leave a client waiting at the counter. At that hour of the morning, they were probably used to people dropping pets off, especially for their daily daycare business.

  I moved away from the counter and poked my head down the hall. My mouth dropped open as I scanned the hotel area for the dogs. A wrought iron gate was the only thing that separated it from the hallway, providing an unfettered view of the luxurious accommodations. Each “kennel” was a walled-off suite, with a small carriage light mounted at every gated entrance. The floors were lined with low-pile green carpet, with a small section of Astroturf. And instead of blankets or actual kennels for the dogs to sleep in, the units were equipped with beds.

  Literal beds.

  Trixie strained toward the hotel area, whining and whimpering, and soon dogs appeared at their gates, barking hellos, tails wagging.

  “Shh,” I whispered to Trixie, and pulled her back into the reception area.

  This was not going at all how I had planned.

  The good news was that it wasn’t going how I had envisioned a worst-case scenario, either. Poppy was nowhere to be seen, which meant she couldn’t rip up my flyers or kick me out.

  At least not yet.

  I stole a quick glance back at the counter and then looked at the flyers gripped in my fist.

  “I could just leave them,” I mumbled.

  Trixie cocked her head and looked at me.

  “Sorry,” I told her. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  Her eyebrows arched.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Sometimes that dog was too smart for her own good.

  I returned my attention to the counter and took a deep breath. I just needed to do it. Drop them on the counter and then go and hope for the best.

  I set the small pile on the cool marble and took an extra second or two to straighten the stack of papers. I didn’t know how long they’d last but the least I could do was make sure they were nice and neat.

  The dogs in the hotel area had finally quieted down and I turned toward the front door, ready to make my exit. But a noise stopped me.

  It was a voice. A low voice, coming from a short hallway off to the right of the counter. It looked as though it led outside and into the fenced back area of the property.

  I strained to hear and was soon able to pick up another voice. Both were female.

  And both sounded a little panicked.

  Without thinking, I scooped up my flyers, clutching them tightly in my hand. I was all set to scurry out of Poppy’s Puppy Palace and figure out a new place to try advertising for clients.

  But something stopped me from leaving.

  Something in their voices.

  With each muffled word I heard, the panic I was hearing seemed to escalate.

  Cautiously, I took a step toward the hall. Trixie needed no convincing to lead the way and I pulled on her leash, trying to keep her close to me.

  Another step. Then another.

  Before I knew it, I was standing within arm’s reach of the door that led to the outdoor area of the pet hotel. It was partially open, and the voices were much more discernible now.

  “What are we going to do?” a woman wailed.

  “Shh.” Someone else hushed her loudly.

  I moved closer to the door.

  “We have to do something!”

  I craned my neck, just enough so that I could see into the outdoor play area.

  And gasped.

  Popp
y was standing beside two women, looking into an empty swimming pool that was shaped like a dog bone.

  I stared in horror.

  Not at the shape—that was actually pretty clever.

  No, I was focused on the fact that, although the pool was empty of water, it wasn’t actually empty.

  There was something in the pool.

  Something that definitely didn’t belong.

  And something that looked to be the source of the women’s dismay.

  A person was lying on the concrete floor in the middle of the pool.

  A person who very much looked to be dead.

  THREE

  I must have gasped louder than I thought.

  Because suddenly three pairs of eyes were looking at me.

  I froze, then took an instinctive step backward.

  Poppy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

  I glanced at the crumpled flyers in my hand. There was no way I could ask her if I could leave them with her. Not now. Not when they were obviously dealing with something that was clearly a crisis.

  “Is…is everything okay?” I winced as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

  Things were most definitely not okay. If what I was seeing was true, there was a dead body in the middle of Poppy’s empty dog bone pool.

  A man, from what I could tell. I couldn’t get a good look at the individual who appeared to be sprawled out on the concrete, but the jeans and blue work shirt looked to belong to a man.

  One of the women standing next to Poppy had her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. The other was ashen, and I was worried she might faint and topple into the pool and somehow end up as a second victim.

  Poppy, however, was keeping her cool. She glanced at the pool and then back at me. “Things are under control,” she said.

  I had no idea how to respond.

  Things didn’t look under control at all. There was either someone injured or dead on her property and she looked completely unfazed, as if she were ready to go back inside and pour herself a fresh cup of coffee and get started with business for the day.