Last But Not Leashed, page 21
She shook her head. “I never understood how artists and musicians can afford to go to all these exotic places. Most of the ones I know don’t make a lot of money.”
“This trip was arranged through his agent, I believe. Colin’s paintings are being shown in a gallery in Helsinki.”
Leaning back in her chair, Mari said, “When did you meet him? New Year’s Eve? That seems so long ago, doesn’t it? Cindy, are the police any closer to finding Sookie’s killer?”
I kept quiet.
“Cindy? You must know something? Kate, make her tell us.”
“Yeah, Cindy,” I sided with my assistant. “Surely you know something?” I didn’t share her scaring me to death this morning with her brother-in-law.
Our receptionist pressed on the side of her face with the palm of her hand—a sure sign she was about to talk. “This is completely unofficial, and you can’t discuss this with anyone. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” We eagerly huddled closer.
“The police department is announcing this afternoon that Glenn Overmann is a person of interest in his wife’s death—and that said person has retained legal counsel”
Mari slammed her hand on her knee. “I knew it. I didn’t like that guy at all.”
“I thought he had an alibi?” I asked Cindy.
“Nope. His sister gave the police some story about him being with her. The chief has been interviewing everyone who attended that lecture, and two women say they saw Glenn smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. Over by the back door.”
“Where the camera was broken.”
“Right. Both witnesses independently identified him from pictures.”
“So his sister was lying? What a relief to have this murder solved,” I told them. “All along it was a case of domestic violence.”
“Now all we need is to find Mr. Pitt’s owner and our lives will be mystery-free.”
“Oh,” Cindy said. “That reminds me. I’ve got Lucky coming in for some training tomorrow. We’re starting with cleaning, doing inventory, and shadowing you, Mari.”
“Good. Did Tony decide not to come back to work this spring?” She got up from her seat and threw her trash in the bin.
“Yes. He’s a full-time college student now. I’m glad Tony is sticking to his studies, but I’m sorry to lose him. I think he worked here all four years of high school. But I’m happy to say he promised to drop by at Spring Break.”
“Oh, goody.” Mari didn’t sound enthused.
Mari’s sarcastic tone amused me. Since I’d started work at Oak Falls Animal Hospital, she and Tony were always arguing about something or other.
Gramps called me while I was eating my dinner in front of the television surrounded by dogs pretending to be starving.
“So, how’s your search for the lost money going, Katie?” he asked. “Don’t go spending it until you get it.”
“Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen.” I explained that some other hackers beat us to it, not to mention Glenn was probably going to be arrested for Sookie’s murder.
“I’m not surprised. The husband or boyfriend is always a suspect until proven innocent.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be innocent until proven guilty?” When I put a piece of chicken in my mouth, the dogs followed my every movement.
“Of course. That is the foundation of our judicial system. But when you’re investigating a murder, anyone you interview might be guilty and lying to you. I’ve seen killers cry their eyes out in front of the camera, begging for the return of their loved one—whom they’ve murdered.”
“Don’t those guys usually try to hide the body?”
The phone went silent. I could visualize my Gramps sitting back in his reclining chair and thinking. “That’s right. Most of my police buddies immediately suspected foul play when women disappeared and left their phones and purses behind. The last person to see them usually is the boyfriend or husband.”
I turned my back to avoid the dogs. Their pleading eyes resembled those pictures of children begging in the streets.
“Glenn Overmann never pretended to be sorry over his wife’s death,” I told him. “He always seemed more concerned about her money. A very unpleasant man.”
After clearing his throat, Gramps said, “Murderers come in all flavors. Take care out there, Katie. Concentrate on the animals.”
I’d just about finished my chicken and rice when Buddy gave a sad little sigh, which made me feel super guilty. Carefully, I fished three remaining pieces of chicken out of my bowl. “Okay,” I said to the dogs, “you each get a piece for being so good.”
Between the three of them, a chorus of lips smacking and tails wagging accompanied their treat. Although I was the human, I’d caved in after a coordinated effort spearheaded by the dogs.
I’d lost count, but I thought that upped the score to Dogs 3, Human 0.
Before I went to sleep, I set out my clothes for tomorrow’s dinner with Colin. I didn’t want to dress formally because that might signal that I considered this a date. Which I didn’t. On the other hand, the last time he saw me I was wearing scrubs and a mildly furry white doctor’s coat.
To raise the bar on my part wouldn’t require much.
Chapter Thirty
Thanks to a last-minute emergency I was running about twenty minutes late for my dinner with Colin. Cindy texted him, using the number off the iguana rehoming flyer, and he responded “No worries.”
The Bella Italia restaurant was one of the many chef-driven kitchens in the Hudson Valley. Coming from an Italian background, the chef was part of the popular farm-to-table movement. The bounty of New York State, which includes artisanal cheeses, organic fruits and vegetables, and so much more, was showcased each night. New dishes were the rule, and the menu changed daily.
I’d never been there—a special-occasion kind of place—so I was looking forward to our dinner. As an added bonus, I’d be looking at Colin instead of dogs.
Once I was inside, my eyes quickly adjusted to the subdued lighting. The greeter’s podium stood empty. The dining room looked about three-quarters full. I quickly spotted Colin sitting at a window table, two servers hovering over him, drinking in his every word. What must it be like to be so charismatic?
White tablecloths gleamed with silverware and fresh flowers in glass vases. The walls were painted a warm cream. Paintings of the Italian landscape hung throughout the room. The sound of a fountain added to the ambience.
I strode across the room. “Hi, Colin. Sorry I’m late.”
He stood up and came around to pull out my chair. “Never apologize for doing such noble work. Besides,” he said, wading between the servers, “these two ladies have kept me well occupied.”
A man in a suit scurried past us toward the entrance. As soon as he appeared, both servers suddenly became very professional, one asking for our drinks order, while the other drifted toward another couple seated a few tables away.
“I’ve been here a few times,” he said, picking up the menu. “The homemade ravioli are particularly good.”
I opened the menu, saw the prices, and immediately said, “Let’s split the tab, shall we?”
“Of course,” he said. “My agent texted me this morning that I’ve sold a painting, so this is a celebratory indulgence.”
We chatted for a while. Colin was easy to talk to, full of funny anecdotes and little stories. My glass of white wine was ice cold. He drank red.
“Did you ever go through with your idea of capturing that reward money?” Colin asked.
“That’s right. We were in Judy’s when Glenn came in and announced his reward for the return of his money.”
“Yes,” Colin said. “A little melodramatic, that.”
The server brought us a warm breadbasket with two dishes of olive oil mixed with herbs and a drizzle of balsamic vinegar. Everything smelled delicious, and I was famished.
Between bites, I explained that Rainbow and I had begun looking at Sookie’s financials, but most likely would quit since Glenn had become a person of interest in her murder.
“Someone told me it was on the local news yesterday.” He broke off a piece of bread and swished it in the oil. “What exactly does that mean, anyway? Person of interest.”
“My boyfriend…my ex-boyfriend said it means someone who might be connected to a crime but isn’t legally charged with anything.” Luke and I had discussed this topic over Chinese food not that long ago.
“The fellow you were with on New Year’s? The one who kept abandoning you?” Colin lifted his glass to his lips. “Are you happier now that he’s gone?”
I raised my glass to his. “I’m working on it.”
We laughed and talked over our dinners. I told him about Gramps and veterinary school, while he talked about growing up in the Midwest and getting an art scholarship to Cooper Union in the East Village of Manhattan. We shared the burden of having student loans, although as a veterinarian, my future income was more secure than his. I described meeting my actress client, Chloe, and briefly mentioned their Bitcoin theft.
He launched into a funny story about customs and taking a high school class online in Barcelona.
“How did you manage to travel so much?” I asked him as I finished the last of my spaghetti in clam sauce.
Colin took a final bite of his osso bucco and washed it down with red wine. “Delicious. Almost as good as one I had in Rome.” He removed a hint of gravy from the corner of his mouth with the tip of his napkin. “What did you ask?”
“Travel. How were you able to travel as an undergraduate? I had to work every summer to pay for books and tuition.”
“Well,” he began, “that’s an interesting story. When I was a junior in high school, my favorite aunt broke her wrist just before her tour to Italy was about to leave.” He pointed to his right hand. “I got a call from her asking if I’d go along as her companion and nurse, basically. Separate rooms and all expenses paid.”
“Wow.”
“I jumped on it, of course. We got along famously. I took care of the luggage, carried the passports and tickets, and made her comfortable while her wrist healed. When her cast got wet in Venice, I found a little clinic to do the bandage change. They even let her sip a cocktail while they worked.”
“She must have appreciated that.”
“She did. Very fond of her cocktails was my aunt. She was a widow and really didn’t enjoy traveling alone. So every summer she booked a tour somewhere and invited me along. We even went to China together.”
The waiter came by and whisked our empty plates away.
“Dessert?” Colin asked, when the server returned.
“Of course.”
He smiled at me. “I like a woman who knows her own mind.”
Despite the hour, I decided on a chocolate mousse. Colin ordered the lemon tart and an espresso.
“Does the espresso keep you awake?” I asked him.
“Not at all. I’m one of those people who get a rush of energy at night. I’m usually painting until three or four in the morning and don’t get up until after noon.” He picked at his tart with his fork.
“Is your aunt still traveling?” I asked with a spoon filled with mousse in my hand.
“Sadly, no.” He stared over my shoulder for a moment. “She passed away a little over two years ago. A blood vessel burst in her brain.”
“An aneurysm? I’m sorry.”
His fingers tapped the tablecloth. “It was quick and painless, the doctors said. That was something to be thankful for.”
We finished our desserts in silence.
When the bill came, I put it on my credit card, while Colin gave me his half in cash.
“I’m glad we could get together,” he said, smiling at me. “Would you like to have an after-dinner drink at my studio? It’s not far from here.”
His invitation was blatant. How many other women in town had been offered the same late-night drink? Quite a few, I ventured. Why not? Colin was young, unattached, and perfectly free to enjoy his active social life. Just not with me.
I rose up on my tiptoes and gave him a brief kiss on his cheek. “Sorry, but I’ve got to work tomorrow.”
His handsome face betrayed no disappointment. “Of course. So, if I don’t see you before I leave, please email me. I’d love to hear how you’re doing. In exchange, I’ll regale you with tasty Finnish stories.”
We stood inside the restaurant by the exit. “How do I get hold of you?”
Colin wrapped a cashmere muffler around his neck and answered, “Go to my website. There’s a link to the Helsinki gallery show and a message board. You can browse through my sales catalog, too.”
“I’d like that.”
We stood for a moment blocking the exit door when Colin took my hand, drew it to his lips and said, “Arrivederci, bella.”
I didn’t know much Italian, but I knew those words.
Until we meet again, beautiful one.
At home I smiled to myself as I put on my nightgown. Such a fun night. Thinking about Rome and traveling, I climbed into bed. Posey’s notebooks lay on the nightstand, alongside a veterinary journal and a mystery novel.
Dutifully I picked up the journal and promptly fell asleep.
Chapter Thirty-One
Once again, I awoke to three dogs licking my fingers. This time I held firm. No dog bones before breakfast. I had the feeling they conducted secret meetings while I slept, coordinating their plans for getting more treats.
When I mentioned this begging to Mari, she immediately frowned.
“Desi never does that at home,” she told me with a straight face.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You never give him people food?” I asked.
An indignant look was her answer.
“So, that’s a yes?” I poured another cup of coffee and searched for a breakfast bar in the staff freebie basket.
Cindy interrupted us with the day’s schedule. Another snowstorm was predicted for that afternoon, so she adjusted our house calls accordingly.
“You’ve got a recheck on that French bulldog,” she said. “I made it your last appointment.”
“That shouldn’t take long,” Mari said. “From there it’s a straight shot back to the hospital.”
“Good. I don’t want you two driving around in the middle of a storm.” She turned to leave, then added, “Daffy wants you to stop by, too.”
“What?” I almost yelled in astonishment. “Those Chihuahua nails can’t possibly need clipping again.”
Cindy agreed. “This time it’s a skin thing.”
“Like when she thought a dog nipple was a tick?”
“No, it’s some kind of sore.” Cindy looked down at her electronic notes. “You know how anxious she gets about everything.”
Mari stood up and stretched her arms over her head. “No problem. I’ll bring a carrier in case he needs to come back to the hospital.”
Having the always growling, uncooperative Chihuahua in the hospital during a snowstorm? What could possibly go wrong?
Daffy was in a chatty mood when we arrived. Sometimes I thought she wanted the company as much as the veterinary advice on these house calls.
Both she and her Chihuahua were resplendent in long-sleeved, hand-knit sweaters. As we walked down the hallway, our client brought up our town’s two recent deaths. “Such terrible tragedies. I didn’t know Sookie that well, but Posey was someone I was very fond of. She’d had a difficult life.”
I immediately prompted her to continue. “What do you mean by ‘a difficult life’?”
Daffy sat down at her kitchen table, Little Man on her lap. “Posey grew up here in Oak Falls. When she was eighteen, she met a man while skiing at Belleayre Ski Resort. He was from Staten Island, I think, or New Jersey—somewhere in the city.”
“What happened?” I asked, trying to speed her along.
“Well,” she said through pursed lips, “they got together…and she followed him back to his parents’ place. A little over a year later, she was knocked up. His family was Italian and pushed for a quick marriage. Such a handsome man, dark curly hair, white teeth.”
So far, I didn’t see where this was going.
“Anyway, they got married in the local Catholic church. But Posey soon discovered some terrible things about her new husband and his family. Her father-in-law worked as an illegal bookie, taking bets over the phone. Meanwhile, the husband—I can’t remember his name—was unfaithful with a bevy of different girls, even while she was pregnant. Posey had a small inheritance from her grandparents, but as soon as they got married her husband stole it. She had no recourse. He told her the man controls the finances and is the boss in his home. A wife must obey her husband.
“One rainy night, with only a few weeks before the baby was to be born, Posey fled the house in a rage. While she was crossing the street, a truck ran a red light and hit her. One of the tires rolled over her abdomen.”
“Oh, no,” Mari said, listening over my shoulder. “Poor Posey.”
Daffy nodded. “She lost the baby. Because of internal injuries, they did an emergency hysterectomy to save her life. The in-laws called her a murderer.”
“This is so sad. I had no idea.” I remembered Posey smiling, cheerfully ringing up my purchases at the Circle K.
“After she recovered, she came home to Oak Falls. A small insurance settlement helped pay the bills. She went back to her maiden name. The rest of her life was spent taking care of her elderly mother, working multiple jobs, and getting into one disastrous relationship after another. Such a romantic girl—but she always picked the wrong guy. One time she confided to me that she’d given some of her savings to her new boyfriend, who promised to double it on the stock market for her. Instead, he disappeared. After he left, she fell into a depression and tried to commit suicide.”
