Asking Fur Trouble Page 3

  It was weird being there without Grandma. Her house had always served as an oasis for me, a place to go when things were rocky at home. And she’d always welcomed me and my sister, Greta, with open arms.

  Trixie nudged my leg and then set her head in my lap, staring longingly at the banana I’d just peeled.

  “No,” I told her. “You just ate.”

  She whined a little.

  I caved and broke off a small piece.

  That dog was my weakness. She almost always got what she wanted.

  “Alright,” I told her. “We’ve got a lot to do today.”

  She cocked her head, which always made me feel as though she actually understood what I was saying to her.

  “We have to go pick up Duke. You remember him, don’t you?”

  Duke was Asher Ellsworth’s dog. I’d called him the afternoon before, after my parents had left, and made arrangements to meet his dog and discuss our new business arrangement.

  My first client for my new dog-walking business.

  My only client, I reminded myself.

  It didn’t matter. The amount he’d offered to pay me for a half-hour walk made my eyes pop a little, but I hadn’t refused or tried talking him down. And when he suggested moving to twice-daily walks, I’d started mentally calculating how much I would be earning with just him as a client. At fifty bucks a day, I stood to make two-fifty a week. A thousand dollars a month.

  That was almost as much as I’d been making at my last job in Minneapolis, once I factored in all the costs associated with it: gas and parking, dry-cleaning bills and lunches out. All I had to do to walk a dog was throw on a pair of tennis shoes and grab an extra leash and go.

  I sipped my coffee and bit off a chunk of banana. Trixie was still glued to my side, waiting for more, but Arrow was sniffing around the kitchen, probably looking for missed pieces of dog kibble.

  Part of me was tempted to call up my dad and announce the details of my arrangement with Asher Ellsworth. Throw it in his face and wait for the stunned silence that I knew would greet me. I wondered how he would take the news, considering he was the parent of mine who always seemed to bounce from job to job.

  But I didn’t. I wanted to get a day or two of work under my belt. What if it was a total disaster? What if his dog was impossible to walk? What if Asher changed his mind and canceled our agreement? The last thing I wanted to do was brag to my dad and then have it blow up in my face.

  I’d already experienced plenty of those moments with him.

  There was a knock at the front door and Trixie jerked off my lap and barreled toward it, barking a warning. After a second’s hesitation, Arrow joined in and soon they were both crowded around the front door, teeth bared and hackles up, as if Jack the Ripper himself was angling for a way to get inside.

  I grabbed their collars with one hand and opened the door with the other, belatedly hoping it wasn’t a police officer there to question me. I’d been so wrapped up in my new business venture that I’d completely forgotten about Caroline Ford’s death.

  But Chief Ritter wasn’t standing at my door, and neither was Owen Simcoe. Instead, a beautiful dark-haired woman greeted me.

  Well, she didn’t exactly greet me. Her expression was a mixture of horror and disdain as she looked at the dogs I was restraining.

  “They’re friendly,” I assured her.

  As if to prove my point, Trixie immediately stopped barking and instead tried to jump at the woman.

  She shrieked and took a step backward, teetering a little on the black stilettos strapped to her feet.

  “Trixie!” I scolded. I yanked her collar and she immediately sat. Arrow, to his credit, had already calmed down and was just standing there, his tail whipping back and forth.

  “Sorry,” I said to the woman. “They get a little excited when someone comes to the door.”

  She looked down her nose at the dogs. “Clearly.”

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  The woman thrust her hand in my direction. It was hard to miss the beautiful French manicure she was sporting. “My name is Poppy. Poppy Ritter. I’m the owner of Poppy’s Puppy Palace here on the island.”

  “Palace?”

  She nodded. “I run a full-service dog resort.”

  Resort? I frowned. “You mean a dog boarding place?”

  Her blue eyes narrowed and her full lips puckered into a full-fledged pout. “Not a boarding place,” she said, her voice laced with disdain. “My facility is first-class. It’s a place where pets are pampered, not…boarded.”

  “Uh, okay.” I glanced down at Arrow, finally making the connection. “Oh! You must be here for Arrow.”

  “Who?”

  I nodded at the mutt. “Arrow. His owner passed away unexpectedly yesterday and I happened to find him. I assume you’re here to take over his care until a new owner can be found?”

  Her tinkling laugh had a slight edge to it. “Are you mad? Of course I’m not here for him.”

  “You’re not?”

  She shook her head emphatically. “That’s Caroline Ford’s dog, right?”

  I nodded.

  She laughed again, much more derisively this time. “I wouldn’t have anything to do with that dog. Not after what she did.”

  “What she did?” I echoed.

  Poppy folded her arms against the pink silk blouse she wore. “She refused to make me a quilt. Can you believe it?”

  “A quilt?” I didn’t know Caroline made quilts.

  “Yes, a quilt. She runs her own business making t-shirt quilts. I asked her to make a quilt for Tiffany and she refused.”

  I didn’t know the first thing about Caroline’s quilt-making business but if I had to venture a guess, based on my limited interaction with Poppy just now, I could see why she might think it would be easier to not accept a project from that woman.

  “Tiffany? Is that your daughter?”

  Poppy looked aghast. “Do I look like I have children?” she asked, waving a hand down her lithe body.

  I looked her up and down. She looked like an Instagram model, as if she’d somehow managed to paint a complimentary filter over her entire person. Everything about her was flawless: her figure, her hair, her complexion.

  “I guess not…” I mumbled.

  “Tiffany is my dog,” she announced. “A dear little biewer terrier.”

  I had no idea what that breed looked like, but I could make an educated guess. Some kind of froo-froo dog, no doubt.

  “And Tiffany wears t-shirts?”

  She stared at me, those pouty pink lips of hers opening slightly as she contemplated my intelligence. “No,” she said flatly. “I wanted her to make a quilt out of all of Tiffany’s silk blankets. She’s accumulated quite a few over the last couple of years.”

  It was my turn to stare at her and question her intelligence. “Didn’t you say Caroline made t-shirt quilts?”

  Her cheeks tinted pink.

  Or maybe I was just noticing the blush she’d applied.

  “I’m not here to talk about Caroline Ford and her stupid business,” Poppy snapped.

  “Okay,” I said with a nod. “Then why are you here?”

  She straightened, tugging on the hem of her blouse. “I heard that you were starting a pet business.”

  “A pet business?” I echoed. I didn’t think my one client constituted a pet business, and I was about to tell her this when she pushed her way into my house.

  She took her time surveying the living room before scanning the dining area and what was visible of the kitchen.

  “This is nice,” she said, a little grudgingly.

  I looked around, trying to see my grandmother’s house through a stranger’s eyes. It had always been my second home, and I took most of the features for granted, but seeing it through Poppy’s eyes provided a decidedly different picture.

  I noticed the polished wood floors, original to the home; the white crown molding that framed the plaster walls, the delicate chandeliers,
the brick fireplace and Turkish rugs and furniture that I’d always considered old but were, in all actuality, probably priceless antiques.

  Poppy whirled around to face me. “This is all yours?” she asked.

  I was tempted to lie and say yes.

  “It’s my grandmother’s,” I said. I added, “But I live here now.”

  I didn’t offer any more details: the divorce, the homelessness, the fact that I didn’t have a job. Poppy Ritter didn’t need to know everything about me.

  She walked into the living room, running her hand along a gilded frame hanging on the wall. It was one of my favorites, an Impressionist-style landscape bursting with warmth.

  “So,” she said, turning her attention to an armoire tucked in one corner of the living room. “Why don’t you tell me about this little business of yours?”

  “How did you hear about it?”

  She waved a hand in the air. “Oh, news gets around town pretty quickly.” Her eyes narrowed. “I want details.”

  “It’s not really a business, per se,” I told her. “I’m going to be walking someone’s dog and he’s going to pay me. That’s pretty much it.”

  “You only have one client?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Asher Ellsworth,” I said, hoping she would be as impressed as my mother had been when I dropped his name.

  Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifted a fraction but she said nothing.

  “So, did you want to help or something?” I ventured.

  “What?”

  “Help,” I said. An idea was forming in my head. “I could make up some flyers. If there’s somewhere at your hotel—I mean, palace—for me to put them up and advertise, that would be awesome.”

  She reared back as if I’d slapped her. “Are you serious?”

  I froze. Had I said something wrong?

  “No, I am not going to put out your flyers.” Her indignation was palpable. “Why on earth would I advertise my competition?”

  “Competition? Um, I’m just walking dogs…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “People use my services when they aren’t available for their pets. It gives their animals a place to stay and be pampered when their owners are busy, regardless of whether they are out of town or not.” She glared at me. “But now they’ll have you.”

  I tried not to smile. I didn’t think walking one local dog was going to impact her precious little palace. Heck, I didn’t even know if Asher Ellsworth even boarded his dog with her.

  She must have noticed the amused look on my face because she suddenly drew up, her spine stiffening like a board, and huffed out a breath.

  “You think this is funny?” she asked in a low voice.

  I made sure to shake my head as vehemently as I could.

  “Do you know who my husband is?”

  Her husband? My eyes widened as her last name registered.

  Ritter.

  As in Chief Ritter.

  He’d walked up while Asher and I had talked about dog walking.

  The smile she gave me was thin. She knew I’d made the connection.

  “Don’t go after my clients,” she warned. “Don’t hurt my business.”

  I swallowed.

  Her smile turned even more sinister. “Or you'll regret it.”

  FIVE

  Poppy Ritter was either insane or evil.

  Possibly both.

  This was the conclusion I came to as I walked toward Sweetwater Suites, the property Asher Ellsworth owned and where I’d told him I’d meet him to have a proper introduction to Duke, his black lab. He’d been vague about our meeting time, telling me to swing by sometime before lunch.

  It was ten o’clock, which felt like a good time to head over. Not bright and early, but not giving any indication that I was pushing too close to the deadline and therefore maybe not serious about the job.

  As I walked, I replayed the visit from Poppy. I didn’t know if she truly felt threatened by my little business venture or if she was just posturing and making sure I knew not to mess with her.

  Regardless, I didn’t take lightly who she was married to. I was already on Chief Ritter’s radar and he’d made it clear that he might still have questions for me regarding Caroline Ford’s death. Not that I knew anything, of course, but the last thing I wanted to do was get more entangled in that debacle than I already was. I mean, I’d somehow managed to not only stumble upon the woman’s body but I’d also apparently inherited her dog, too.

  I was walking at a leisurely pace, trying to calm my jittery nerves—a byproduct of my time with Poppy as well as the anxiety of meeting up with Asher—as I approached Caroline Ford’s house. There was probably a different route I could have taken to Asher’s office, but this was the most direct and logical path.

  For just a moment, I debated turning at the corner and taking a more circuitous route so I didn’t have to walk by the house. I had the time.

  But a quick glance at Caroline Ford’s home made me stop. Because standing on the front porch was a man, closing the front door. He took a deep breath and looked down at his feet. Then he looked at the house again for a moment before turning and descending the steps off the porch.

  I didn’t stop to think. My pace quickened and I was almost jogging as I approached the little yellow house.

  The man looked up in surprise as he made his way down the sidewalk. He was probably in his late forties, thin and pale, with a receding hairline.

  “Excuse me,” I called as I closed the distance between us.

  He slowed to a stop.

  “Do you know Caroline Ford?” The question came out a little breathless sounding.

  His brow wrinkled. “Of course I knew her. She was my wife.”

  I blinked. “Your wife? Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry.”

  I felt like a total heel. I had no idea she was married, and I’d just run after this man, asking if he knew the woman he was married to. The woman who was now dead.

  My logical self tried pointing out that of course I wouldn’t know this; I didn’t even know Caroline so how was I supposed to know she was married?

  Caroline’s husband was staring at me, a perplexed expression on his face, and I realized he was probably wondering why I’d stopped him.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I just…I saw you at the house and, well…I have her dog.”

  “You have Arrow?”

  I nodded. He didn’t seem particularly relieved by this news.

  “It’s a long story but I found him yesterday, running around loose, and I managed to leash him and…” My voice trailed off. It seemed insensitive to tell him what had happened next. That the dog had raced into the open back door, that I’d followed after him. And that I’d discovered his wife’s lifeless body on the floor.

  He nodded. “I’m glad he’s safe. I was wondering why I didn’t see him inside.” He hesitated. “My name’s Daniel, by the way. Daniel Ford.”

  “Wendy,” I answered. “Wendy Walker.”

  He didn’t shake my hand.

  I thrust them in my pockets. “So, I still have Arrow, just because I didn’t know where to take him. Should we make arrangements for me to get him to you or for you to pick him up?”

  His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Me?”

  “Isn’t he your dog, too?”

  Daniel looked down to the pavement. To my surprise, he shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t what?”

  “Take the dog.” He glanced back up at me. His grayish-blue eyes were watery now. “It would be too hard. Too much of…of a reminder.” His voice cracked.

  I didn’t know how to respond.

  “I see,” I managed to mumble. How could he not want his own dog?

  Daniel cleared his throat. “Besides, she didn’t want me to have him. She said it explicitly in the divorce papers.”

  “Divorce papers? But I thought you said you were married…?”

  “We are,” he said, nodding. “The divorce isn’t final y
et.” His expression darkened. “And as much as I contested every part of that divorce, I don’t think it’s wise to go against her wishes. Especially now that…now that she’s gone.” The last words came out on a gasp and before I could say anything, he hurried toward a white sedan parked along the side of the road.

  I watched as he scrambled to get inside of his car and then as he peeled way from the curb. He wiped his eyes as he drove by and guilt flooded me. I’d just made a grown man cry.

  “Don’t mind him,” a voice said from behind me.

  I turned around, back toward Caroline’s house. A middle-aged woman was standing on the steps now, wiping her hands on a red dishtowel. “He’s taking all of this hard.”

  I didn’t beat around the bush. “Who are you?”

  The woman tucked a strand of short dark hair behind her ear. “Amber,” she said. “I’m the housekeeper. And I’ll take the dog.”

  SIX

  Fifteen minutes later, after a quick jog back to my home, I was back at Caroline Ford’s house.

  But this time, I was inside the house.

  And Arrow was with me.

  Amber set a mug of coffee down in front of me. “Cream? Sugar?” she asked.

  “Just cream, thanks.”

  She got a carton out of the fridge and plunked it down on the table.

  I poured some into my coffee and tried not to be too weirded out that I was sitting in Caroline Ford’s kitchen. Talking to her housekeeper. And handing off her dog.

  Amber poured herself a cup and squeezed into the chair across from me. She was a heavyset woman, with thick arms and thick legs, but she moved around like a jackrabbit, hopping from one thing to the next. I didn’t think she’d be sitting with me for very long.

  “Thanks for finding him and taking care of him,” she said. Arrow was by her feet and she stroked his head a couple of times. “I was worried about him.”

  “I can imagine,” I said.