Death Comes to a Retreat (Book 4 Molly Masters Mysteries) Read online

  Max scanned the nearly empty room as if searching for an excuse to say no. He sighed. “Just a sec.” He left but returned moments later with the iced tea. He set it in front of Tommy and said, “Look. I don’t know anything. All I know is, Allison was getting death threats for months. She, like, wouldn’t tell the police, no matter how hard I tried to convince her to. That’s why I moved out. She told me it wasn’t worth it anymore. She said I was, like, bound to find some girl my own age soon. She said she’d rather give me up than risk her own neck.”

  “How were these threats being delivered?” Tommy asked solemnly.

  “Phone calls, mostly. Sometimes notes in her mailbox.”

  “You ever overhear any of those calls? Or read any of the notes?”

  Max shook his head. “Not the phone calls. If I answered, the person would just hang up. I did see one of the notes, though.”

  “Still got a copy of it?” Tommy asked.

  I sat in motionless silence, hoping against logic that Tommy could solve the murder simply by asking Max Tucker the right questions.

  “Allison got rid of it right away, but it was unforgettable. It was a poem: ‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. You’ll soon be dead. So the hell with you.’”

  I nearly jumped out of my seat, but Tommy calmly asked, “Who’d she think was behind those threats?”

  Max drew his eyebrows together as if surprised we didn’t already know the answer. “Her ex. Richard Kenyon.”

  Chapter 14

  More Doggone Trouble

  Max wiped his palms on his green apron and shifted his weight nervously.

  “Richard?” I repeated. “But he’s been dead for five months now.”

  Max furrowed his handsome brow. He had exceptionally attractive masculine features. In fact, he looked just like his mother.

  He glanced to either side, as if concerned that a nonexistent customer might overhear. “Yeah, but Allison believed he and his lover were, like, in cahoots.” His expression was contorted in emotional pain. “I wanted Allie to go to the police, but she, like, refused. I should’ve insisted. Maybe if I had …”

  “So, you’re sayin’ Richard’s lover continued to send the death threats after Richard died?” Tommy asked.

  “Right.” Max backed away from our table. “Listen. I really gotta get back to work.” He strode around the corner toward the kitchen. Though he managed to incorporate a nonchalant swagger into his strides, he’d clearly lost his cool.

  Tommy had a couple of gulps of his tea, then pushed the glass away. “Too sweet,” he murmured as he rose, dropping three dollar bills onto the glossy wood table.

  We crossed the small parking lot to Tommy’s car. He walked at a steady and unfriendly pace, his eyes downcast and, his hands in his pockets. That meant he didn’t want to talk, but since we weren’t a couple, I didn’t feel obligated to pick up on his nonverbal cues. “If Richard’s one-time lover really was behind Allison’s death threats, the most likely candidate is Celia.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because Celia was his lover.”

  “Wasn’t he also linked with some grad student?”

  “That was later. He apparently dumped Celia for Cindy, who claims to have then dumped Richard.”

  “Guy got around.” Tommy unlocked the passenger door without looking at me, then rounded the car.

  Once we were inside, I asked, “Have you been able to find out anything about who the Boulder police think killed Richard?” He started the engine, signaled, and pulled onto the street before answering. I was just about to repeat the question when he said, “From what they told me, some guy in a condo near Richard’s overheard him arguing with a woman. The neighbor was a Good Samaritan and went over there, concerned about the woman’s condition. Says the woman bolted past him in tears. Definitely wasn’t Allison. A few hours later, the neighbor alerted the police when Richard Kenyon was murdered. Far as I can gather from what the officers told me, the gunshot woke the neighbor up. Looked out his window and spotted a man running from the back exit. He was dressed for the weather—stocking cap, winter coat, gloves, and was carrying a partially full pillowcase. The apartment had been ransacked, as if it was a botched burglary.”

  “Was this witness absolutely certain it couldn’t have been a woman, wearing a man’s coat and hat?” I asked, thinking about how easily Lois could have pulled off such a ruse. When seen from the back, at any rate.

  He shrugged. “Don’t even know the witness’s name. BPD gives me info strictly on a need-to-know basis, just like they would anyone else.”

  “You do need to know this stuff!”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because Richard’s killer and Allison’s killer could be one and the same. And that person could be trying to kill me. That’s why.”

  “Uh-huh,” Tommy muttered noncommittally. The light was turning yellow and he braked, causing the car behind us to come to a screeching stop.

  I gave him a moment to expand on his response, but, to my annoyance, he didn’t. “What I’m trying to say, Tommy, is that you’re a police sergeant, and you’re my friend. You have a personal interest in my not getting murdered.”

  “That’s exactly the point.” He tapped the dashboard in front of me with his index finger and added redundantly, “You hit the nail on the head. I got a ‘personal interest’ in this case. Officers aren’t supposed to have a personal interest in their cases. Clouds judgment. You find yourself reacting from emotion, ‘stead of logic,”

  I snapped my tongue in disgust. “That is just so…male. Who’s to say that because you care on an emotional level you are automatically less analytical and less logical? Maybe the more you care about the victims of a given crime, the more determined you’ll be to solve it.”

  The light turned green. He ignored the honking horn of our tailgater and cautiously eased us through the intersection. “Could be, but I can guarantee you, Molly, soon as I go to the BPD and tell ‘em how I need to know so’s I can help out a friend, they’ll be showing me the door.”

  “Then don’t tell them that’s the reason. Have one of your officers back in Carlton call and tell them you might have a copycat case.”

  “You want me to order one of my officers to lie to the BPD?”

  My cheeks warmed. “Tommy, in the past twenty-four hours I’ve been locked in a sauna and chased by a pair of Dobermans. Color me self-centered, but yes, I want you to lie, cheat, and steal if that’s what it takes to get me out of this mess.”

  “And what happens when I need the BPD to take it serious that you need protection? That you’re an innocent victim here? How credible am I gonna be when they figure out I’m havin’ my men lie to ‘em?”

  “All right. Never mind. Bad idea.” Before he could continue his tirade and say that my emotions had affected my judgment, I opted for a quick change in subjects. “You’re going to come in with me and say hi to Lauren, right?”

  He shook his head. “Bad idea.”

  After listening to my report on my adventures with Tommy, Lauren said she wasn’t feeling well and went to the guest room. Jim, however, was looking a bit perkier. He asked me how I’d gotten the scratches on my arms and legs, and I told him I was climbing a tree to get away from some nasty Dobermans.

  He stiffened. “Dobermans? You were chased up a tree by attack dogs?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you were just going for a walk!”

  “That was my intention,” I said, a little snippily, “but the walk inadvertently turned into a dash and a climb.”

  Jim started to say something, then clamped his jaw shut and massaged his temples. After a brief pause, he said, “Promise me this much. Next time you’ve got to do anything that might put yourself in danger, let me help.”

  “You want to help put me in danger?”

  He dropped his hand and glared at me. “This isn’t funny, Molly.”

  “You’re right, sweetie.” I gave him a hug. “Sorry.” I assured him
that I would do a better job at keeping him informed of my whereabouts, and he eventually seemed to relax his guard a bit.

  Karen called out from below, where she and Rachel were sprawled in the family room, “Mom?”

  “Daught?” I answered automatically. Karen often calls out “Mom?” as a preamble, even when we’re alone and I’m looking right at her. I’d recently asked her why she persists in doing so, and she’d answered, “Mom? I don’t know.” She gets her sarcasm from her father.

  “Rachel and I are bored,” Karen moaned. “There’s nothing to do.”

  “Why don’t you play with the dog?” I suggested. “She’s asleep.”

  Nathan stormed down the stairs. His narrow shoulders sagged but his dark eyes were flashing with anger. “Look what Betty did.” He thrust a slightly gnawed plastic truck into my hands. The bed of the truck was missing, leaving only the base. “She chewed the sides off.”

  “She made it into a flatbed. It can haul more stuff that way.”

  “She also chewed up my Legos.” He had his deep breathing going, which always means he’s stifling tears. “She chews all my stuff,” Nathan grumbled, pacing. “She’s chewed on everything I brought to Colorado, even my suitcase! I want a new dog. Betty Cocker only likes me because she thinks my toys taste good.”

  Karen, with Rachel in tow, had run up the stairs from the family room and instantly launched into an argument with Nathan in defense of BC. The time-honored cure-all for boredom: a screaming fight with one’s sibling. In the meantime, Rachel looked in BC’s kennel in the kitchen and said, “Where is she? She’s not in her kennel.”

  “I let her outside several minutes ago,” Jim replied.

  “C’mon, Rach,” Karen said, raising her jaw in defiance as she slid the back door open. “We’ve got to go get Betty and protect her from Nathan.”

  While Nathan complained to me about his sister and dog, the two girls raced around the yard calling for her. A minute later, her cheeks already tearstained, Karen rushed back inside. “BC’s run away!” She leveled a finger at Nathan. “And it’s all your fault!”

  I had the same instantaneous pounding-heart panic that I always experienced whenever my children were missing. I went into the backyard and started calling. As Karen had warned, Betty Cocker was not in the yard.

  The female half of our next-door neighbors—an elderly couple whom we’d known for years but had little in common with—heard me and cried, “Oh, Molly. You’re not looking for a cocker spaniel puppy, are you?”

  “Yes. Have you seen her?”

  “She dug under your fence about ten minutes ago.” She pointed to a small, but effective, tunnel under the wire mesh in the back corner of our fence. “You should have seen the little thing, digging and digging away for, oh, must have been fifteen minutes or so. Determined little dickens, I must say. You don’t own a dog, though, so I thought it had to be someone else’s that happened to cut through your yard.”

  I gritted my teeth. During fifteen minutes of watching her dig, you would think it might have occurred to her to let us know what was happening. “We just got her yesterday morning. Didn’t you notice Karen and Nathan playing with her in our yard since then?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I hope you find her and get her back.”

  No thanks to you, I thought sourly, as I went back inside. If good fences made for good neighbors, apparently both our fence and our neighbors weren’t deep enough.

  Karen immediately said, “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

  “She tunneled under the fence.”

  Karen’s jaw dropped.

  “Don’t worry,” I automatically said, though I was very worried myself. “We won’t have much trouble finding her. She must have gone back to her old house.”

  “You have to get her back!” Karen said. She turned to Nathan and cried, “She ran away from home because you’re so mean to her!”

  “That’s not true. Nathan, Karen, this is not anybody’s fault. I’m going to get Betty back.”

  “You don’t know that,” Karen said through her sobs. “Somebody could have kidnapped her.”

  Or she could have been hit by car, which was my biggest worry. Full of false bravado for the children’s sake, I called Julie. She said Betty wasn’t there, but she’d go look for her and meet me at Allison’s house. I agreed, but asked her to first check to make sure her Dobermans were locked up.

  Jim, anxious to help, insisted on driving me, so we left the kids in Lauren’s care and took off. The first place BC might have gone was back to Allison’s house. Or maybe to Julie’s. Julie was standing in front of Allison’s driveway when we arrived. I introduced Jim and Julie briefly while getting out of the car.

  “Betty’s not at my place,” Julie said, “and she’s not in Allison’s backyard.”

  Jim said he was going to drive through the neighborhood and promptly took off.

  “Maybe she’s inside the house. Have you tried the doorbell yet?” I asked Julie.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The housecleaner, Maria Chavez, seems to be here quite often, for some reason.” I trotted past Julie in as quick a pace as my aching muscles could abide and rang the bell. No answer. Julie called Betty’s name while I rounded the house to peer through the garage window. Maria’s car wasn’t there.

  “I’m going to start at Lois’s,” I told Julie. “She wanted Betty in the first place.”

  “I’ll circle the block on foot,” Julie said with a nod.

  I knocked on Lois’s door. Lois swung the door open and stood in the entranceway staring at me, arms akimbo.

  “Lois, BC seems to have gotten out of our yard.”

  “Huh. Dog doesn’t like you and ran away, hey? Fancy that. You should’ve let me have her in the first place.”

  “Be that as it may, she’s missing and I need to find her. Have you seen her?”

  “I thought that went without saying. No. Now scram.”

  Just before she could shut the door in my face, I detected the unmistakable scent of chocolate. I stuck my sneakered foot in her doorway. “You’re expecting Joe Cummings again?”

  “Not that it’s any business of yours, but yes, I am, and no, you can’t stay and talk to him.”

  “Help me find BC and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

  She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at me. “A little bit of friendly extortion, hey?” She pointed with her chin. “Betty’s at Celia’s house.”

  “She is?”

  “I saw her behind Allison’s fence, barking, just a few minutes ago. Celia came out and got her. Took her back inside her house.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

  “Because you shouldn’t have Betty Cocker ‘in the first place’! Which reminds me. When are you going to reimburse me for that dreadful retreat?”

  “Reimburse you? But I didn’t—” I took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Let me go over to Celia’s and get my dog back first. I’ll discuss the financial ramifications of the retreat with her. Then I’ll get back to you.”

  “You do that.” She made a sweeping gesture at me with one hand. I took a step back, and she shut the door.

  Julie, who was halfway down the block calling for Betty, looked at me as I reached the sidewalk. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Does Lois know where she is?”

  “Yes. Celia’s got her,” I called back.

  “Thank goodness,” Julie answered, smiling. She jogged back toward me and said, “I’ve got to get to the studio now. You don’t need me to go speak to Celia first, do you?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

  Julie gave a friendly wave and jogged across the street and into her open garage. Just then, I spotted Joe’s pickup rounding the corner. He saw me and waved. I waited as he pulled into Lois’s driveway.

  “Why, Molly Masters,” he said happily, “if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.”

  I was sore, all right, though I wasn
’t sure about the part about the eyes.

  Joe went on, “I can really use your help with a—”

  I was already shaking my head. “Sorry. You’re on your own with Lois.”

  As if on cue, Lois’s door swung open and I could feel the heat from her glare on me as if it were a sunbeam focused through a magnifying glass.

  Joe smiled and waved at Lois, but all the while said through his teeth, “Please? I’ll pay you.”

  “Lois would kill me. Besides, I have a puppy to collect and bring home to my children.”

  Joe shook his head. “Those damn brownies give me away, every time. The wife says she can always tell when I been over here, ‘cause I smell like a Hershey bar. If only I could resist ‘em, my wife would never even know I’d been at her house.”

  “Hi, Joe!” Lois cried. “Guess what I’ve got in the oven for you?”

  He cast me a mournful gaze, and I said, “Good luck. Be strong.”

  Celia was carrying BC as she came to answer the doorbell. Beside her feet was a Boston terrier, yapping at Betty with unbridled jealousy.

  “Hi, Molly. I just called and left a message on your machine that I have Betty.”

  I took Betty, who, fortunately for my ego’s sake, seemed extremely happy to see me. Celia asked me to wait a moment and dragged away the still-barking terrier by the collar. She returned a minute later, and I thanked her for keeping BC safe for me.

  “Oh, don’t mention it. I don’t mind in the least.” She gave me a visual once-over. “You seem to have recuperated from your brush with Julie’s dogs rather nicely.”

  “Save a few scratches and gray hairs, yes. Lois told me I still owed her money for the retreat. Do you have any suggestions as to how we can work this out?”

  “I’m way ahead of you. This is what I do for a living, after all. I got in touch with the Red Fox Resort and demanded a full refund. The owners countered with half off. I’m still bartering with them. Just give me till the end of the week, and I’m sure I can get them down to just what the meals alone would have cost us.”