“One more question, Earl,” said Dooley.
“Shoot,” said the little dog.
“Has your human by any chance been getting pictures of a sausage on her phone?”
The conversation more or less wound down after that, and I could tell that our surprise visit hadn’t altered Earl’s view on cats as a nose-scratching species to be watched out for. Only now he seemed to think we were all slightly loony, too.
Chapter 22
Rose Wimmer had decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. She could use the fresh air. She needed to clear her head and consider her options. It was obvious now that Odelia Poole, in spite of her promises, wasn’t going to be able to deliver. So far she hadn’t unearthed anything in the nature of conclusive evidence of her dad’s murder, and Rose had the sneaking suspicion that secretly Miss Poole agreed with the cops that Dad’s death was suicide and not murder.
It was starting to dawn on Rose that she was the only person in the world who believed that her dad had been killed—even Daphne kept giving her a look of pity every time Rose broached the subject.
But she was still absolutely convinced of her case. Dad would never kill himself. He just wouldn’t. No matter what anyone believed, she just knew.
And she’d just kicked an inoffensive pebble when suddenly her phone chimed and she took it out. She frowned as she read the message. It was from an unknown number and it read: ‘I know who killed your dad. Come to the Triple Platinum Gym. Alone.’
Her heart lifted. Finally. A clue. A witness, probably. Or an accomplice of the killer who’d suddenly had a change of heart and was ready to confess. And it was with a spring in her step that she turned on her heel and started walking back to town.
She’d show them. Daphne, the cops, Odelia Poole. She’d show all of them how she’d been right all along and they were wrong.
Vesta was staring before herself into space, thinking dark thoughts about this so-called investigation Odelia had gotten her involved in. “I don’t get it,” she said. “First she gets all hot and bothered about this case and then she just drops it like a hot brick. What gives?”
Next to her, Scarlett was sipping from a hot beverage which could have been herbal tea. It certainly smelled like herbal tea, the sweet fumes tickling Vesta’s nostrils and provoking a gag reflex. She was one of those people who are allergic to herbal tea of any type or persuasion. “When you say she dropped it you mean she solved the case? So who’s the killer?”
“She didn’t solve it as far as I know, but she hasn’t said a word about it since last night, when we delivered our report.”
“Maybe she’s thinking about the next steps she needs to take,” Scarlett suggested.
“I think we’ve just gotten dumped, Scarlett. That’s what I think is going on here. And I can tell you right now that this is the last time I’m getting sucked into one of Odelia’s investigations. We’re not even getting paid for this stuff.”
“Odelia isn’t getting paid,” Scarlett pointed out.
“Oh, she’s getting paid all right. Getting paid by Dan Goory. So she’s got her bases covered. It’s us who’ve been working our asses off for nothing.” She slammed the table. “But no more. When she asks us to do legwork for her again I’ll tell her she can do it herself.”
“I quite enjoy doing legwork for your grandkid,” said Scarlett. “I’ve never been a detective before and I have to say it’s a lot of fun. You get to talk to people who’d otherwise never give you the time of day, and you get to go places you wouldn’t otherwise be allowed to visit. People let you into their homes—I love it.”
“Well, I don’t.” Vesta glanced across the street and happened to see Rose Wimmer, the girl who’d set this whole thing in motion. “I wonder what she’s up to.”
Scarlett followed her gaze and frowned. “Poor girl. Not only did she lose her dad but now it’s just her and that stepmom of hers. Must be pretty tough.”
“Well, I don’t care how tough it is,” said Vesta. “I’m done working for free. If I ever take a case again I’m asking top dollar. Paid in advance.”
“You can’t expect that girl to pay top dollar for us to find her daddy’s killer, Vesta. That just wouldn’t be right.”
Vesta took a swig from her cup of hot chocolate, trying to drown out the foul smell of Scarlett’s herbal tea with the sweet aroma of her chocolate delight. “We’re not even sure her dad was killed,” she reiterated. “As far as I’m concerned this whole thing’s been nothing but a wild goose chase. And you know what else I think?”
“No, what?”
“That girl has been playing us for a bunch of fools. I’ll bet she knows exactly what happened that night. And this whole thing…” She made a vague all-encompassing gesture. “Is nothing but a smokescreen.”
“A smokescreen? What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Vesta admitted. “But whatever it is, I don’t like it. We’ve been used, Scarlett. Used and abused.”
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”
“And I’m sure I’m not. Just you mark my words. This isn’t over. Not by a mile.”
Rose had arrived at the gym and discovered that a closed sign hung on the door. She placed her hands against the glass and peered inside. If the person who sent her that text was inside, she didn’t see them. And as she tried the door handle, she discovered it was unlocked. After a moment’s hesitation, she pushed inside and found herself in the club’s reception area. The lights were out, and it was a little dark inside. She swallowed away a feeling of uneasiness and said, in a small voice, “Hello? Anybody here?”
When no response came, she ventured deeper into the club, past the turnstile that easily yielded to pressure and now found herself in the club proper, where a host of workout machines stood deserted, the place devoid of its usual hustle and bustle of people groaning and sweating and of loud music pumping from the speakers.
Once more she called out, “Hello?” and when no reply came, she decided that maybe she better wait outside.
And that’s when she saw it. Her first glimpse was through the large mirror that covered an entire section of wall. A man was lying on his back on one of the benches placed under a weightlifting machine.
“Oh, hi,” she said, as she quickened her step to join the man. “Did you send me that message, sir?”
It was only when she’d crossed the floor and reached the man that she saw that it was none other than the club’s manager, Jared Zmuda, dressed in his usual fluorescent shorts and Iron Man tank top. His eyes were wide, his features contorted into an expression of surprise. His surprise may well have been related to the heavy metal bar that was pressing down onto his throat.
It took only one look at the man’s face to know that he was dead.
Chapter 23
“Max?”
“Mh?”
“Do you have any ideas for good deeds?”
“Why? Have you run out of ideas?”
“Kinda. The day is almost over and I haven’t done my good deed of the day yet. And now I’m starting to worry.”
“Why? What do you think will happen when you don’t do a good deed today?”
“I’m not sure, but it probably won’t be good.”
I gave my friend a reassuring smile. “Look, Dooley,” I said, “this good deed thing is something you choose. Nobody is forcing you to do it. So when you skip a day nobody is going to be upset with you.”
He gave this some thought, then said, “Are you sure, cause it feels like someone will.”
“Nobody is holding you accountable, Dooley. If you don’t do a good today you can do one tomorrow, or not.”
“Or I could do two good deeds tomorrow. One for today and one for tomorrow.”
“Sure. You can do whatever you want.”