Doggone Dead Read online

  I managed to catch her ponytail as it slid from its pins, holding it in place with one hand and attempting to free myself from her grasp with the other. I’d never had a problem when thirty pairs of juvenile eyes stared at me in the classroom, but there was something uncomfortable about having a dozen grown people in a coffee shop gawking at the sight that was Nora with her arms wrapped around me, especially when I had one hand on the back of her head while she was hugging me like a long-lost friend.

  “Nora, get a grip,” I hissed in her ear, a line of tiny gold loops nearly catching in my teeth. “You’ve lost your, uh, your hair, and everyone is staring at us.”

  By the time we left, Nora’s hair was somewhat back in order. I’d never seen a ponytail look like that before, and, judging by the expressions on the other faces, nobody else had either. If this was going to be the start of something big, at least we were going to do it in unforgettable style.

  At Nora’s insistence, we took an Uber for the short ride from The Friendly Bean to her apartment building. We needed to head for her place first, she’d decided, so we could talk about our plans for our newly hatched partnership.

  “The way I see it, there are at least three pets per floor in my building, not to mention the ones I see every day at the dog park. I’ve been walking one or two a day, tops, but between the two of us, we can double that.” Nora grabbed at the sissy bar above her door as our driver took a sharp turn in front of a rather large logging truck. “If we live, that is. Young man, if you want me to give you a tip, I wouldn’t drive like that. Besides, you might give my friend here a relapse, and trust me when I say you don’t want that to happen.”

  Just what it was I was supposed to relapse back into, I had no idea, but I played along, letting my eyelids hang at half-mast while I collapsed against the seat and clutched feebly at the front of my jacket. Nora looked back at me approvingly, reaching over to pat my hand as though I was really ailing.

  “You hang in there, Gwennie girl. We’ll get you home and you can put your feet up if we aren’t killed first.” She twisted around to frown at the driver.

  “I’m not gonna get us killed,” he protested, sounding as young as one of my high school students. “Miss Franklin, is that you back there?”

  Fabulous. I bolted upright, my eyes now wide open, trying desperately to recall his name. After twenty-something years of teaching, though, most faces looked the same. Unless, of course, they’d made some sort of impression on me, usually that of the negative kind.

  “Oh, hey you.” I spoke weakly, resorting to my tried and true greeting of forgotten students. “How are things?”

  “I’m great.” He fixed his gaze on the rearview mirror and narrowly missed a bicyclist that had swerved into our lane. “Sorry to hear you aren’t feeling so good. Is that why you quit teaching?”

  “Something along those lines.” I tried to glare at a grinning Nora and smile at the driver simultaneously. I was saved from further conversation by a cacophony of horns as we zipped into the only empty space in front of Nora’s luxury apartment building.

  “Thanks for the ride. It was really good to see you again.”

  “Yeah, you too. Gimme a call whenever you need to go somewhere.” He reached into the middle console and fished out a grubby card. “Use this number and I’ll let you know if I’m available, okay?”

  I grabbed it out of his hand before Nora’s fingers closed on it. Brent Mayfair. That was his name. Smiling at him as I opened the back door, I waved the card at him.

  “Well, thanks again, Brent.” I felt smug when I said his name. “Please say hello to your mom for me.”

  “Will do, Miss F. See ya.” And with a screech of tires, he shot back into traffic millimeters ahead of a fully loaded passenger van.

  “If that kid makes it to his next birthday without causing an accident, I’ll personally bake him a cake.” Nora started to shake her head but reached up one hand instead to explore the ponytail. “Well, come on, partner. We’ve got big plans to make.”

  The big plans entailed making a pot of coffee, slicing a Danish pastry—cream cheese, my favorite—and thumbing through Instagram and Pinterest. By the time I’d looked at a million videos of cute kittens and puppies and commented on a handful of posts, I was ready to go home. All of that screen time, plus a few bites of pastry, and I was ready for a nap. Nora hadn’t even touched her Danish. That probably had something to do with why I was a bit broader in the beam than she was.

  “Nora, it’s been a blast, but I need to get going.” I stood and stretched, stiff from sitting curled up on one of Nora’s overstuffed linen-covered sofas. “So much for our business planning session.” I stifled a yawn, glad I could fall back into bed if the spirit moved me. Maybe I did need to get a hobby.

  Nora looked at me, one eyebrow lifted in that half-questioning, half-mocking way she’d perfected over the years.

  “What do you mean, ‘so much for our business yadda yadda’? I got most of it done while you were playing on your phone.” Holding her iPad up so I could see the screen, she gave me a smug smile. “And here’s what I’m calling it. Two Sisters Private Services. Whaddaya think?”

  “Nora, that ‘private services’ bit makes us sound, I don’t know, a tad sleazy, don’t you think?” I held out one hand for the iPad, visions of what our uniform might entail nearly giving me the heart attack I’d feigned in the Uber.

  She leaned over and poked me in the arm, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m just kidding, Sis. How about Two Sisters Pet Valet Services? I think that has a classy ring to it, don’t you?”

  I sat back down with a relieved thump, rubbing my arm where she’d hit it. “Much better. I don’t think it would be good for my reputation to be part of a ‘private services’ gig anyway.” I glanced at the iPad, noting she’d listed her name first. Fair enough. “Any idea how we might start rounding up a few takers?”

  She gave a nonchalant shrug, a too-casual dip of one shoulder that had me instantly on high alert.

  “Easy enough. I’ll print up a few business cards and slide them underneath the doors in this building while you canvas the dog park across the street.” She started walking toward the desk that peeked out from behind a Japanese silk screen in one corner of the room, the latest in desktop computers and printers sitting primly side by side on its polished surface.

  “Hold up.” I stared at her, my hands lifted and eyes narrowed. “How come you get to stay inside and I have to go out? It’s raining cats and dogs out there, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “All the better to snag a few clients.”

  “Oh, hardee har har. I’m serious.”

  “So we both go. Gwen, if we’re going to be successful pet sitters, we’ve got to get used to being outside.”

  She had a point. Just as sure as God made those little green apples, Portland skies would always be ready to dump something on our heads.

  I was ready to give in gracefully when another thought crossed my mind. I bounced to my feet, hands on my hips, a suspicious expression on my face.

  “Nora, exactly how much experience have you had in, uh, dealing with animal waste? I mean, you do realize that we have to clean up after the little darlings, right?” I pointed to her stilettos, one eyebrow lifted in question. I could practically see the steaming ooze left behind by one of our clients. The pets, not the owners. And definitely not a pleasant visual, I can tell you that.

  “Me?” She gave a laugh as she quickly tapped on the keyboard, glancing at the computer’s wafer-thin monitor as she typed. “I’m not the poop scooping type. Not one bit. My last husband, or was it the one before, always employed someone to clean up after his precious yappy dogs.” She glanced over at me. “And my parents were too busy for me to have any pets of my own.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but that someone is going to be us in this little business venture.” A thought occurred to me and I said, “You haven’t been picking up after the dogs you’ve been walking, have you.”

  She stopped typing and stared across the room at me, eyebrows drawn together in consternation.

  “Well, no, but…” Her voice trailed off and then her face brightened, the lines smoothing out. “But we can hire someone to do that part of it. Easy peasy. How about that kid that drove us here? He needs something else to do besides trying to cause a wreck.”

  I let my hands drop to my thighs, wincing as I hit a bruise I’d collected from a recent round with the lawn edger. That was Nora’s answer to everything. Hire someone. Throw money at them. How we were going to pay for all of this and still make any money was beyond me. Before I could get any further with these rather dismal thoughts, Nora looked at me, smiling and waving a handful of newly printed business cards.

  “Aaand here we go, Sis! It’s time to get this show on the road to fame and fortune.”

  Two hours and fifteen floors later, plus a brief jaunt across the street to the Portland Pooch Park during a break in the rain, we had collected four new clients.

  And a few other souvenirs as well.

  I examined the bottoms of my Birkenstocks before wiping them on a patch of grass outside of the apartment building. I’d have to hose them off before I could wear them again in polite company.

  Nora, of course, had managed to navigate the puppy pitfalls in her sky-high heels.

  “This could really turn into something big, Gwen. Really big.” She tossed the leftover cards onto the concierge’s desk as we walked back into the luxury apartment building, ignoring the irritated expression on the woman’s face. I walked behind Nora and scooped the cards up again with an apologetic smile. Sometimes going places with Nora made me feel like a pet owner in training: I always had to clean up her messes. And judging by the way the woman’s face wrinkled in revulsion, she thought so as well.

  Or maybe it was my shoes.

  “So, what’s the schedule?” I hurried to catch up with Nora, shoving the cards into my jacket pocket. “Did we say I’d be starting tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” Nora snorted, giving her head a hair-wrecking toss. “You’re starting today, hon.” She looked at me with a critical eye, her nose wrinkling as her glance swept over my sandaled feet. “I guess I’ll have to loan you something to wear.”

  I looked down and saw the dark streak that stretched from the bottom of the shoe to the side of my sock. It was pretty repugnant. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to toss out the shoes. They’d been faithful companions for at least ten years. Maybe more. And were much less critical than some folks, that was certain. They never uttered a peep, no matter the weather, and were always ready to roll for any occasion. Sigh. Maybe it was time to retire them. Kind of like me, come to think of it. Was that how an old teacher was viewed? As a worn-out shoe with disgusting things stuck all over the bottom?

  “Gwen? You all right?” Nora was leaning toward me, a concerned expression on her face. “I didn’t mean I don’t like your sandals, I really didn’t. It’s that they’ve got, well…” She let her words trail off into midair as the elevator came to a juddering halt.

  Forcing myself to smile, I straightened my shoulders, hopefully adding an inch or three to my height and subtracting a few unnecessary pounds from around my middle. “Not a problem. I’ll take them off before we go inside.”

  “And I know just the place you can leave them, too.” Nora giggled, pointing down the carpeted hallway. “That snotty Linda Fletcher needs a surprise package, wouldn’t you say?”

  Dealing with Nora was like handling a roomful of hormone-crazed teens. The best way to do that, I’d always found, was to respond firmly but kindly and to redirect their risk-taking brains in another direction.

  “Why don’t we leave her a business card instead?” I pulled one out of my pocket. “She can give it to someone who has a pet.” Or not. She’d probably tear it up and sprinkle the pieces in front of Nora’s door.

  The ongoing feud between Nora and Linda was something out of a soap opera. Or an elementary playground. I didn’t know the entire story, but I did know there was something to do with a man, of course, and maybe a few mean-spirited tricks or two that Nora might have played on her.

  “You’re no fun. How’d you ever survive teaching high school?”

  “Because I wasn’t any fun.” I said it solemnly, only half in jest, and she began laughing, pulling me inside behind her.

  “Oh, you. You probably had them falling out of their desks. And kick off those sandals,” she called over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen. “I think there’s an extra pair of house slippers under the couch. Coffee? Or hot tea?”

  “Tea, please.” I bent down to fish out the slippers. I’d taken my socks off for good measure, holding them by the cuff before tucking them inside the sandals. Might as well go whole hog and dump the lot. Maybe I could have a farewell, a send-off, Viking style. It might smell pretty bad, though. Tossing them in the nearest dumpster was probably the best bet. Sighing morosely, I slipped my bare feet inside the pair of fuzzy shoes and shuffled toward the kitchen.

  And froze.

  Nora was standing in the middle of the room, both hands covering her mouth, eyes opened as wide as they’d go. Stretched out on the floor, a large knife protruding from her chest, was Linda Fletcher. And, judging by the pool of blood on the floor surrounding her, this was no joke.

  Chapter 2

  “Oh, Gwen, what’ll we do?”

  Nora’s face was paler than the average northwestern complexion, and I could tell even from where I was standing that she was trembling all over. I made myself ignore Linda’s body and marched over to where Nora stood, grabbing her by the elbow and steering her back toward the living room. It was bad enough having a body in the kitchen, and I surely didn’t need Nora fainting in there as well.

  “You sit right here. I’m going to call the cops.” I pushed her down onto the sofa and fished in my jacket pocket for my cell phone.

  As cool as I was trying to be, I was still all thumbs as I tried punching in the simple numbers for the emergency services. Nine-one-one suddenly seemed like a complicated algebraic formula.

  By the time I’d gotten through to an emergency dispatcher, had explained the situation, and had given the location, I’d calmed down enough to tiptoe back into the kitchen for a closer look. It wasn’t a ghoulish streak that made me do this. Instead, I wanted to see if I could figure out what in the world Linda was doing in Nora’s kitchen in the first place.

  That she was actually inside the apartment wasn’t a surprise to me. No one, especially Nora, locked their doors in this building unless they were going out for more than a few hours. Taking a quick walk to the mailbox or having coffee with a neighbor wasn’t a good enough reason for locking a door. Still, I had questions. Had Linda known Nora had stepped out, or had she simply barreled inside, spoiling for an argument?

  A loud thump on the apartment door roused me from my contemplation of Nora’s unwelcomed guest, and I went back into the living room. Nora had stirred herself enough to answer the door, and now she was standing in front of two very large men, one of whom looked like he could moonlight as an Ironman competitor while the other one looked more like a contestant on Iron Chef. Drawing in a steadying breath, I addressed my comments to him, trusting that a soft belly equaled a soft heart.

  “Thanks for getting here so quickly.” I held out one hand in greeting.

  Both officers merely glanced down as though expecting the proverbial smoking gun. Or bloody knife, in this case. My ears grew warm as I dropped my hand, but whether it was from embarrassment or an errant hot flash, I couldn’t tell.

  Crossing my arms, I gave both officers the stare I’d perfected from years of dealing with the occasional impossible student. Firm and unwavering, unsmiling and mute. Unless one of them chose to speak up, I could do a silent standoff for as long as necessary. Finally, Ironman—Officer Taylor, according to the shiny brass name badge pinned to his uniform—gave a great sigh, moving his gaze from me to Nora and back.

  “We were told you found a body? In your kitchen?” This was directed to the air somewhere between Nora and me, but I jumped in with the answer, not sure of her ability to string together a coherent sentence at the moment.

  “Yes.” I started toward the kitchen and beckoned them to follow. “She’s in here, Officers.”

  “Ma’am, if you could stop right there?” Apparently Officer Taylor could only communicate via questions.

  I wanted to give him a lesson in sentence structure on the spot. Instead, I froze in place and watched as he walked into the kitchen, one hand resting lightly on the black Taser that hung from a wide leather belt.

  Iron Chef—Officer Reinhart—remained behind, presumably to keep an eye on the two suspects. That would be Nora. And me. The mere thought that I could be seen as a dangerous criminal almost made me smile.

  Almost. One glance at Nora told me she was close to collapsing, and I moved quickly toward her, reaching out to steady her with one hand.

  “You need to sit down.” I guided her over to the sofa nearest the kitchen door and gently pushed her onto the cushions. “I need to get my friend some hot tea or something, or I’m afraid she’s going to faint.” This comment was directed to Reinhart, who had been watching the two of us with suspicion as if we were orchestrating some great escape plan right under his rather fleshy nose.

  By the time both officers had decided that yes, indeed, we did have a dead body in the kitchen and had called for the necessary folks to join us, Nora looked as though she needed a month-long rest any place else but Portland, preferably someplace with lots of sun. And mojitos. And a cute waiter to keep them coming. Since I was officially retired, without a set schedule, I could offer to go with her, purely out of the goodness of my heart, of course.