Murder of a Creped Suzette

Skye glanced at her watch. Ten after four. Oh, well; at least she’d see Wally in twenty minutes or so. She could probably contain her curiosity for that long—but just barely. She turned the key, threw the Bel Air in gear, and stomped on the gas.

Doggy Daycare was mobbed with parents retrieving their canine children. The wait was so long, Skye was considering calling Wally to say she’d be late when she finally reached the front of the line.

Puppy smiled widely at Skye and said, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Skye answered cautiously. Considering Puppy and Doggy Daycare, Skye was afraid they had bronzed Toby’s poop as a memento.

“I’ll be right back.” Puppy disappeared behind a half wall and returned seconds later with Toby in her arms.

At least, Skye thought it was Toby. She examined the little white dog carefully. His fur had been clipped so close he looked like a sheared lamb—except for the giant round cotton ball–like puff at the end of his tail.

Tentatively, Skye fingered the bright blue bows adorning his head. Those would have to go. But how in the heck were they attached? She had a feeling their removal would require scissors, or maybe even a scalpel.

“Wow.” It had taken Skye a moment to realize that Puppy was staring at her, anxiously awaiting her reaction. “He really looks different.”

“Do you like it?” Puppy asked. “I had some extra time, and I felt a little bad about how much you had to pay for him to stay here, so I fixed him up.” When Skye didn’t respond, Puppy added, “It’s on the house.”

“It’s amazing.” Skye figured that was the only honest answer that wouldn’t hurt the woman’s feelings. “Thank you.”

After thanking Puppy again, Skye headed toward her rendezvous with Wally. When she rocketed into the church’s parking lot a few minutes later, Wally was leaning against the front fender of his Thunderbird. Not quite the undercover vehicle Skye would have chosen to avoid reporters, but a step up from a police cruiser.

Wally pushed upright as she squealed to a stop a few feet away. While Skye fumbled for her tote bag and Toby’s leash, Wally opened her door. She handed him the dog, got out, and gave him a quick kiss.

“What the hell happened to this poor little guy?” Wally held Toby up and away from him as if the dog had on a dirty diaper.

“It’s a long story,” Skye answered with a sigh. “Suffice it to say the owner of Doggy Daycare wears a headband with fake dog ears attached, wags her backside like a tail, and calls herself Puppy Pointer.”

“You’re kidding.” Wally did a double take. “What’s her real name?”

“That’s it.” Skye shrugged. “Apparently she had it legally changed.” Skye paused to reflect on the absurdity of a grown woman called Puppy, then asked, “So what did Owen have to say?”

Wally cocked his thumb at the T-bird. “I’ll tell you all about it on the way.”

“Okay.” As she climbed in, Skye asked, “Where are we going?”

“That self-storage place halfway between here and Laurel.” Wally settled Toby on Skye’s lap—the sports car didn’t have a backseat—and slid behind the wheel. “Turns out all the files aren’t in the PD’s basement after all. Warehousing of the older records was outsourced when I was still a rookie.”

“Who’s the owner of that place related to?” Skye asked with a sidelong glance. “Nepotism is the only explanation for the city using a business located outside the city limits.”

Wally smirked. “You.”

Skye wasn’t at all surprised to hear it was one of her family members. She was kissing cousins to half the county, and that was just on her mother’s side. “Which of my many relatives is the proprietor?”

“Our esteemed mayor.” Wally turned onto the road that would take them toward Laurel.

“Oh!” If Skye didn’t know how small-town government worked, she might have wondered how the chief of police could be unaware of where all the files were stored. But in a good-ol’-boy regime, unless you knew the right question to ask, no one would volunteer the information. “How did you find out there were more records than just the ones in the basement?”

“Dante told me when he called to ream me out for not wrapping up this case fast enough.”

“He is truly a pain in the butt,” Skye commiserated. “If it’s any consolation, he acts the same way with the family.”

“You know, he’s one of only a very few people I’d be willing to name a building after.” Wally grinned. “Of course, he’d have to be dead first.”

Skye laughed, then asked, “So how did the storage issue come up?”

“I lost my temper.” Wally’s expression was sheepish. “I made it plain that if the police board had allowed me to have all the records digitized, as I had requested several years ago, maybe I could access the information I needed to solve Suzette’s murder.”

“I’m sure my uncle took that well. He so loves criticism.” Skye hid a smile. “Is that when Dante revealed the hush-hush location?”