Sneak Thief (A Dog Park Mystery) (14 page)

“A former Eagle Scout like yourself would never do that to a partner, never mind Lia.”

Peter grimaced. “She threw my opal at me. I think that means I'm a free agent.”

“Brother, don't tell me you weren't about to pick up a charge for assaulting an officer a few minutes ago. And it wasn't over a slice of cold pizza.”

“You don't have to fight my battles.”

“I wasn't standing up for you. I was protecting Hodgkins' not-so-pretty face. We've got too much ugly around here as it is. You think there's anything to this doll thing?”

Peter shrugged. “It's not surprising that Foil Man left a final tribute for Desiree. That wouldn't have anything to do with Lia, and it doesn't mean he had anything to do with Desiree's murder. Everything still points to burglary gone wrong, committed by an inexperienced doer.”

“You really
ought
to talk to her.”

“No, I really
ought
not. And you really
ought
to mind your own business.”

“
I
f Jeffrey Deaver were here
, he'd say the dolls were an elaborate distraction disguising the coldly rational actions of a domestic terrorist or a scheming corporate hack,” Terry opined while scratching behind Napa's ears. As Napa was standing on the picnic table where they gathered, he leaned over and faced her, eye-to-eye. She licked his nose. “Aw . . . kiss, kiss. Of course, he is the Master of Obfuscation. Probably covering up your typical, ill-conceived, liberal commie plot.”

“What would a corporate hack or a domestic terrorist want with Desiree?”

“Perhaps Desiree isn't the target. Maybe her murder was meant to scare Geneva. Has she had any offers on her property lately?” Terry asked.

“If that's the case, what do the dolls have to do with it? I don't think Desiree even told Geneva about the dolls. And if they're meant as window dressing, why did he steal them back?” Bailey asked

“Do you suppose there's something about them that he didn't want anyone else to know? Something hidden inside, maybe?” Lia asked.

“There's still the doll of Lia. I wonder if there's anything inside that one,” Bailey said.

Lia stopped making smoochy noises at Julia and looked up. “You want me to deconstruct myself?”

“That's not a bad idea,” Bailey said. Figure out how it's made. It might tell you something about him.”

“You mean, like if he's using platinum wire for an armature, and there's only 3 places in the western hemisphere that sell it? I know, maybe Foil Man used Desiree's dolls to smuggle bugs into the Scholastic scoring center. It's a plot by a group of failing high school students to get their hands on the scoring rubrics,” Lia said.

Terry picked up her train of thought “—and he had to keep giving her new dolls because the batteries on the bugs only lasted for a couple days. Maybe Desiree was in on the plot and that's why she was never creeped out by his love offerings. ”

Lia shrugged. “Makes as much sense as anything.”

“We're all forgetting something,” Bailey announced.

“What's that?” Lia asked.

“We have a witness.”

“What are you talking about? There was no witness,” Terry said.

Bailey made a flourish with one graceful hand. “Julia.” She said this as if it were obvious.

“What kind of help is that?” Lia asked. “Are we going to walk her around until she decides to bite someone?”

“I know, we can put together a line up and let her sniff the participants,” Terry said. “When she decides to pee on someone's shoes, we'll know we have our man.”

“Mock me all you want. I'm calling Louella Zuckerman.”

“The animal psychic?” Lia asked. “What do you think she can do?”

“Animal communicator. She's not psychic. She'll tell us what Julia remembers.”

“Hog wash,” Terry pronounced.

“How would you know? Have you ever seen her work?”

“I don't need to. It's pure New Age nonsense.”

“Luella's different,” Lia said. “She's been documented. I don't know how she does it. Hundreds of people have vouched for her abilities. I don't know if it will help, but it can't hurt. Doesn't she book up way in advance, Bailey?”

“Months. But she might squeeze us in since Julia is traumatized.”

Lia looked down under the table, Julia's safe place. Julia looked up at her, then returned to scanning the park for peril.

“She has been acting anxious. If nothing else, maybe she can help us with that,” Lia said.

“Mumbo jumbo,” Terry said. “I say we go to the funeral and see who shows up.”

“How cliche,” Bailey said. “Do you know anything about a services for Desiree, Lia? I think we should go, because it's the right thing to do. Not to spy.”

“We can do both,” Terry said. “That's what makes man a superior animal, having the ability to address two different aims at the same time. Unlike the unfortunate birds.”

“What unfortunate birds?” Bailey asked.

“Why the pair who were killed with the single stone, of course.”

“We won't be able to kill anything if there is no funeral,” Lia said. “Avery asked me to let him know when it was. I checked online, but I couldn't find a notice.”

“I wonder how you could find out?” Bailey asked.

“First we have to know who has possession of the body,” Lia said. “I've met the assistant coroner. I can make a call when I get home.”

“On a Saturday?” Bailey asked.

“Death is no respecter of weekends,” Terry intoned.

“Tell you what, Terry. You go hunt in the woods for the tree Foil Man climbed to shoot that video, and I'll go call Amanda Jeffers. Find us some clues.”

Terry brightened and pointed his index finger up in the air. “A worthy task for my ratiocinative abilities. Where's my camera?”

“
T
his is Doctor Jeffers
,” the voice on the phone said.

“Amanda, it's Lia Anderson. Peter's friend.”

“For real? You two are still friends?”

“Ouch. What have you heard?” Lia kept her casual tone despite the sudden hole in her stomach.

“Now don't be expecting me to repeat gossip.” Amanda's scolding made the corner of Lia's mouth quirk up despite wondering what the assistant coroner knew.

“Umm, you'll only have to say it once?”

“That line is so tired, I'm going to buy it a bottle of Geritol.”

Desperation crept into Lia's voice. “Please Amanda? I swear I won't say who told me.”

“I don't want to be getting into the middle of anything. Both of you are liable to wind up shooting me instead of each other. Not this girl. Uh-uh. No way. But it's so lovely to talk to you. What ever made you think to call me? We gonna do that lunch we always talk about?”

Lia sighed at the forced cheerfulness in Amanda's voice.

“I'd love that,” Lia said, giving up. “Let's set it up. But first, I was hoping you could give me some information.”

“Uh, huh,” Amanda's voice was skeptical.

“Oh! Not about Peter, about Desiree Willis.”

“You mean that poor child who was shot a week ago? You knew her, didn't you?”

“How did you know that?”

“Something Heckle and Jeckle said while they were here for the autopsy.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“No, probably not.”

“Tell me anyway. I promise, if I decide to shoot anyone, it won't be you.”

“I just heard some snickering. I think it was ‘I wonder if Dourson ever did both of them at the same time.' No names, but I just this minute put it together.”

Lia's jaw dropped. She said nothing.

“That wasn't all of it. I guess I'll give you the rest, but don't you come after me if you don't like it. Heckle said that first bit, then Jeckle says, ‘too bad she's dead. The way Cynth is hanging on him, he could've had himself a real party.' Do you know anyone named Cynth?”

“Oh, God, Amanda,” Lia said.

“Look, now, don't you regard anything those two creeps say. I'm sure if I hadn't been watching, one of them would have felt that poor girl up. Nobody listens to them. Forget I said it. What can I help you with?”

Lia stammered, trying to remember why she called. “I've been looking online for information about a funeral for Desiree and I can't find any. I was hoping you could tell me where the body went so I could call the funeral home.”

“You can't find anything about a funeral because that body is still sitting here. Her father, and I do use that term very loosely, refuses to have anything to do with it. Fine by me. No girl deserves to be spit on by her father when she's dead.”

“He
spit
on her?”

“Right in the face. Identification is supposed to be done by video, has been ever since that creep, Thomas Condon, photographed corpses without permission and tried to call it art. Well, Mr. Willis complains that he can't see her properly on the screen because of his cataracts, and says he needs to see the body. So I let him in back and he walks up to her and leans over and spits. He was chewing tobacco, too. Looks me right in the eye and says he'd been waiting years for that very moment, and it's the only reason he agreed to come in. I told him to get out before I had him arrested for desecrating a corpse. He sneers at me and says, ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.' Sprayed me good while he said it. I had to change my scrubs.”

“I'm speechless.”

“You obviously aren't since you just said that, but I understand the feeling.”

“What happens to her now?”

“If I can't find someone to take her off my hands, the county will dispose of her. We're supposed to be hunting up her friends, but we've been swamped lately.”

“So anyone could just come in and take her?”

“It's not as easy as that. They'd have to be vetted first. We have to document all attempts to locate the proper person, and then there's a waiting period. It takes weeks. It would be better if she'd appointed someone her designated agent, then there wouldn't be any question about their right to the body, but I can't imagine that happening, her being so young. Still, she should have had one with the father she had.”

“Designated agent? How does that work?”

“If you're concerned about who will wind up making your funeral arrangements, you assign someone, and you fill out a designated agent form.”

“Wouldn't someone know if they'd been assigned?”

“That would be the polite thing to do, but not necessarily. Desiree's signature needs to be notarized with two witnesses. She might have left it in her belongings, if she had one. Fat chance finding it. I understand the landlord dumped all her things.”

“I think I can help you with that,” Lia said.

“For real?”

J
ulia followed
Lia back and forth as she gathered her tools. The Beagle was exhibiting signs of separation anxiety, not wanting to let Lia out of her sight. It was bothersome, nearly tripping over the dog everywhere she went, but she could understand Julia's fears. “Can't send you to therapy. Maybe a session with Louella is the next best thing.”

Lia sat at her drawing table and Julia curled under her chair. The table was equipped with a thin bamboo skewer, a dental probe she'd used during a bronze casting class and a pair of tweezers. Next to these lay her camera. The Lia doll sat on a clean sheet of butcher paper under a faux-vintage magnifying glass on a stand. She'd bought the magnifier because it looked cool, never dreaming she'd have a use for it.

She started by taking photographs of the doll from all angles, using the macro setting on her camera. It seemed such a shame to destroy it, but it was better to know if there was something malevolent tucked inside. At least she could preserve it through pictures.

She gently pushed the torso and legs down, so that the little woman lay spread-eagled under the lens. It made her some how uneasy, as if she were about to skewer herself on a pin like a butterfly. The arms, legs and body were twisted, she suspected to help the foil hold it's shape.

Delicately, she untwisted the appendages and the torso. These lengthened as the material uncoiled. Where she found an edge of folded in on itself, she slid her dental probe underneath to loosen it.

The head appeared to be rolled rather than coiled. She marveled at the light touch Foil Man must have used, to maintain an unblemished silver sheen on the face, without any undesired crimping. She used the tip of the bamboo skewer to tease the ball apart.

The head slowly unrolled, unfurled, unfolded until she was left with nothing except a single strip of foil which extended from the body. She went back to the arms and legs and continued there. Each revealed itself to be nothing more than foil, cleverly twisted. Lia-doll now lay like a mutant starfish under the magnifier. If she held any secrets, they lay in her heart. Lia continued to tease the foil apart, swapping the skewer for the probe when she encountered tightly crimped bits. The tip of her probe hit something solid between the layers. A few more tugs revealed a tiny red heart. She caught a whiff of cinnamon.