Unleashed (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (13 page)

“No. I rang the bell, and when no one answered, I walked around the side of the house. You know, calling Sheila’s name? The Pugs were out back in that fenced area. They must have been pretty tired by then because when they saw me, they ran over to the gate and began whining like they wanted me to let them out.”

“So they weren’t in the house when you got there?”

“No, I just told you that, didn’t I? The Pugs were outside in the yard.”

So much for the random robbery theory.

Sheila had been home when her attacker arrived. She’d probably let him or her inside. Sheila wasn’t stupid; she wouldn’t have opened her door to just anybody.

The police could search all they wanted for a stranger.

I knew we were looking for a friend.

“What’s the matter?” asked Nancy. I looked up to find she was watching me closely. “What do you know that I don’t?”

I debated what to say only briefly. Nancy had a right to know. “Based on what you just told me, it’s highly unlikely that Sheila was killed by a burglar, no matter what the police think.” I outlined what Sam had said about the way Sheila cared for her dogs.

“I don’t know whether to feel better or worse,” she said when I was finished. “Until Sheila was killed, I would have said that this was one of the safest neighborhoods we could have found. This whole thing has really shaken us.”

I could imagine. “How well did you know Sheila?”

“Not very. Like I said, we met for the first time out on the road. She was picking up her mail, and I was driving by. I stopped and introduced myself. This isn’t Donna Reed-ville, believe me. Nobody comes and greets the new neighbors with a homemade cake.

“I invited her to stop by for coffee sometime, but as you can probably imagine, our schedules were totally opposite. I would love to have some company during the week, but of course that’s when Sheila was working. She finally came by one Saturday, but we didn’t get much chance to talk.”

“How come?”

“Don. My husband? He was here when she got here. Let’s just say they really hit it off.”

Her tone wasn’t quite bitter, but close. Call it seriously annoyed. What do you know? Nancy and I had something in common.

“Don’t tell me. Sheila roped him into doing a few things for her around the house.”

Nancy looked surprised. “How did you know?”

“Been there. I thought it was only Sam.”

“I thought it was only Don.”

We both smiled.

“It’s not that I minded Don playing good Samaritan, just that if he was going to do it, he should have started a little sooner. When Mabel Andrews was living all by herself in that house, she could have used someone looking out for her. She’s in her eighties and the last time I saw her, she was looking quite frail.

“Before she went into managed care, I used to stop by and check on her every few days or so. Mabel always said she was fine, but I think she just didn’t want to be a bother. By the end, even the basic upkeep had pretty much gotten away from her.”

I nodded. That jibed with what Sheila had told me. “The other day, over at the house, I met Mrs. Andrews’s son.”

“Chuck? Mabel used to keep his picture on the mantel, and she spoke about him occasionally. Frankly, if you ask me, he could have been paying a little more attention. Anyway, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression about Sheila. It’s not that I didn’t like her, more that I never really got to know her.”

I heard a giggle, followed by a thump. A small voice whispered, “You go!”

“No, you go!”

Nancy frowned. “Molly? Jessie? Aren’t you girls supposed to be upstairs?”

“We were upstairs.” One of the twins, I wasn’t sure which, slid into the doorway. It looked as though she’d been propelled there by a disembodied pair of hands. The girl batted the hands away, added another slap for good measure, then turned back to Nancy and me with a grin. “We came down to wait for Sarah. She was supposed to be here by now.”

“I’m sure she’s coming any minute, Jessie. Were you listening when you weren’t supposed to be?”

“No!” This accompanied by an emphatic shake of the head. Then she ruined the effect by adding, “Are the police going to catch the man who hurt Mrs. Vaughn?”

Nancy and I exchanged a look. I had no idea what she might have told the twins about the murder. Probably not much. “Did you know Mrs. Vaughn?” I asked.

“Sure,” said Jessie, as Molly appeared to stand beside her. “We used to see her all the time.”

“You did?” Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “When?”

“When we were playing in the woods. Her house is right back there. Sometimes she let us pet her dogs. Once she gave us each a cookie.”

“We liked her a lot,” said Molly. “But we didn’t like the man.”

“What man?” Nancy and I asked together.

“The mean man.” Jessie made a face. “He came to visit, and made her unhappy. Sometimes he yelled.”

Brian? I wondered. Not necessarily, but his was the first name that came to mind.

“What did the man look like?” I asked.

“He was tall,” said Jessie.

“Way taller than us,” Molly added.

That wasn’t saying much.

I looked at Nancy. “Do you have any idea who they’re talking about?”

“None. I didn’t even know that they were visiting Sheila through the woods. I guess I should have been paying more attention.” Her gaze focused steadily on the two girls. “Is there anything else going on that I should know about?”

Both heads shook back and forth in unison. If I hadn’t seen the same innocent expression on Davey’s face when I knew full well that he was up to something, I might have been tempted to believe them.

“Kids.” Nancy sighed. “You can’t keep watch them every second of the day. And until recently, I had no idea I needed to.”

A car horn tooted outside. The two girls shrieked, and ran to the front door. “Sarah’s here!” cried Molly, as Jessie unlatched the door and threw it open. Immediately, they both ran out.

“I know you spoke to the police,” I said to Nancy as we followed them. “But did they ever talk to your girls?”

“Of course not. Detective Holloway didn’t ask, but even if he had, I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“But considering what they just said—”

“No,” Nancy cut me off firmly. “There’s absolutely no way I would ever allow the twins to get involved. My husband, Don, is a lawyer, and between the two of us, we would block any attempt to make them part of the investigation.”

We’d reached the front porch. In the driveway, Sarah’s mother had pulled her car up behind mine. Sarah was already out of the backseat and running in the yard with Molly and Jessie. Her mother sketched a cheery wave out the window.

“I guess you’d better move your car,” said Nancy. The dismissal was clear in her tone.

I fished my car keys out of my pocket. “Thanks for your time.”

“No problem.”

Nancy turned away and strode over to the car behind mine. Ducking down, she leaned her head in the window and began to talk to Sarah’s mom. Feeling vaguely guilty about having wrecked her day, I slid behind the wheel of the Volvo.

I understood how Nancy felt, but unlike her, I couldn’t just stick my head in the sand. Somewhere, a murderer was still free. She might be able to ignore that fact, but it sure gave me the willies.

Back on the road, I considered my options and headed south. If nobody was going to take their information to the police, then I figured I was going to have to do it for them. However, there were two immediate problems with that.

First, I knew from past experience that the police were not likely to jump for joy when handed proof that someone had been meddling in one of their cases. And second, I had no idea where the state police barracks in Somers was located. Actually, I knew nothing about Somers at all, except that it was north of North Salem. I learned that from the map. Davey’s soccer camp was south, and the afternoon was passing.

I probably don’t have to draw you a picture.

So I headed home. I figured I could call Detective Holloway just as easily as talk to him in person. Besides, considering that I was going to tell him I was doing legwork that his men should have covered, I wouldn’t mind having some distance between us.

Faith was waiting for me in the front hall, and her dark, almond shaped eyes were filled with reproach. Usually I take her with me almost everywhere. Now that she was pregnant, however, I was trying to cut down on the amount of stress she was exposed to; and that meant leaving her home. The house was cool and quiet, and she should have been napping. Instead, I could see by her anxious expression, she’d been waiting for my return.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. “Did you miss me?”

Faith woofed her reply. Then she turned and raced toward the back door. That signal was clear. Faith needed to go out. Now. By the time I flipped the latch, she was whining softly under her breath.

As soon as the door was open a crack, the Poodle dashed down the back steps and squatted immediately. A wave of guilt washed over me. Single mothers get used to juggling everybody’s needs, but Faith was usually so easy I’d gotten into the habit of taking her for granted. Obviously I was going to have to start trying harder.

And if Faith herself hadn’t just managed to convey that thought, the message that was waiting for me on my answering machine would have.

“It’s me,” said Aunt Peg, secure in the knowledge that I would recognize her voice. “Why aren’t you there? Who’s watching Faith? Do you have her with you? Have you started to take her temperature yet? I hope you’re keeping records.”

I grimaced at the barrage of questions. No doubt Aunt Peg would find my answers highly unsatisfactory.

“I’m calling to tell you that I’m stopping by later with a whelping box for Faith,” she continued. “It’s high time you started to make preparations.”

“Yes, Aunt Peg,” I muttered dutifully, as Faith scampered back up the steps. I got a biscuit out of the box in the pantry and handed it to her.

“I’ll be there about five-thirty. Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll bring something with me. I hope Davey likes Chinese. By the way, have you lined up a supplier for goat’s milk yet?”

Goat’s milk?
I spun around and stared at the machine.

Like it was going to offer me answers. No dice. Instead it clicked off, signaling that Aunt Peg was done giving orders. For the moment, anyway.

Since I still had some time before Davey got back, I dialed information and got the number for the state police in Somers. So far, so good. Then I called and asked for Detective Holloway.

I sat on hold for three minutes, plenty of time to calculate how much money I was spending in long-distance rates to listen to dead air. By the time Holloway picked up, my patience was wearing thin. Maybe I should have written him a letter.

“This is Detective Holloway,” he said brusquely. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is Melanie Travis. I’m calling about Sheila Vaughn. You met my fiancé, Sam Driver, at her house on Saturday.”

“Yes?” The single word didn’t sound encouraging. More like he wished I’d hurry up and get to the point.

“Sam told me it was your impression that Sheila had interrupted a burglary, that she was killed by someone who broke into her house.”

This time when I paused, Holloway didn’t bother to reply. He simply waited. All at once, none of the interesting things I’d planned to tell him seemed very interesting.

“Sam told you about Sheila’s Pugs, right? That they wouldn’t have been outside unless she was home?”

“Yes, I believe he did mention that.”

“So that meant that Sheila let her killer into the house.”

“Not necessarily. What if the robber arrived first and let the dogs outside himself so that they wouldn’t be in his way?”

“I guess that’s possible,” I conceded. “But it doesn’t seem very likely. If you were looking for a house to rob, would you choose one that was filled with guard dogs?”

“Guard dogs?”

I couldn’t see Holloway, but I swear I could hear his smile.

“You are referring to the Pugs, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” I said huffily. I wasn’t getting anywhere and we both knew it. The heck with it, I thought, and went in another direction. “Are you aware that Sheila recently became partner in a magazine whose primary function is to expose the sordid secrets of the dog show world?”

There was a brief moment of silence. I heard the sound of papers being shuffled, then Holloway was back.
“Woof!
, right? Brian Endicott is the other managing partner, and I met him on Saturday as well.”

“Did he tell you that several of the people Sheila had written stories about had made threats against her?”

“We spoke about the magazine briefly. Mr. Endicott was of the opinion that there was no way that their business could be connected to Ms. Vaughn’s death.”

“Well, the receptionist at his office has a different opinion. Also Sheila’s neighbor, Nancy Benning? She has twin daughters who saw someone they called a mean man visit Sheila on more than one occasion.”

“How old are these girls?”

“I’m not sure. Five or six.”

“And did they have any idea who this man was?”

“No.”

“I see. Is that it?”

I sank down into a kitchen chair, feeling deflated. “Yes.”

“In that case, thank you for your interest. I’ll have someone look into these issues you’ve raised.”

I hung up the phone, frowning.

Let’s just say I wouldn’t be holding my breath.