Pit and Miss Murder Read online

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “Nope,” Nadine said. “As long as the call placed is not for malicious intent, the app is perfectly legal to use to hide your real phone number.”

  “Can it be traced?”

  “It depends on how clever the person using the app is. Most of the time, the answer is no, according to my contact.” She’d started out the conversation excited, but now she sounded defeated. “The sheriff doesn’t see this as enough evidence to drop the charges.”

  “How did you manage to get the information. I thought he put a cone of silence around you.”

  “He did, but I have a lot of friends at the department. They weren’t going to keep me out of the loop.”

  “Did you get to hear the recording of the anonymous tip? Could it be the same person that called Buzz?”

  “I did,” she said. “I digitally recorded it on my phone and stopped by the house. The caller is female. Buzz’s caller was male.”

  “Maybe if he or she used an app to spoof the phone numbers, he or she could have used an app to change the voice,” Parker said.

  “Yes,” I said. “It still might be the same person. It could be our real killer.”

  “Maybe,” Nadine said. “All I know is that if we don’t find more evidence to clear Buzz, Sheriff Avery is going to make sure he goes down for this.”

  I smacked the table. “Why won’t he even consider someone else? It’s like he strives for incompetence.”

  “I’m hoping we can vote him out in the next election, but until then, he’s the boss.”

  “What about the gambling? And Trinity Commercial Real Estate?”

  “I’m still looking into that. A friend of mine in the records department said she would go through and look for open and closed cases regarding illegal gambling in Moonrise.”

  “I have a friend at the county clerk’s office who might be able to look up the business license for the real estate company. At the very least, it might give us the owners.”

  “Who?” Nadine asked.

  “Keith Porter’s mom,” I told her. “Apparently the woman lives for some drama.”

  “There’s no better cure for boredom,” Nadine said.

  We both laughed until she suddenly, as if remembering she were still mad at me, stopped. “I’ll let you know if I find anything else out.”

  My heart sunk low. I wasn’t ready to end the call. “What about Electa Laverty? Can you look up her address for me? Or maybe you could go and talk to her.”

  “That’s right,” Nadine said. “Pearl Dixon had said she was having a fling with Jock. What did she call it exactly? I was pretty stressed when she was talking.”

  “The nasty flamingo,” I said.

  Nadine snorted. “That’s it. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Before you go,” Parker said. “If you’re off work tomorrow night, why don’t you and Buzz come over for dinner? It sounds like you, and I might have a lot in common. And it might make you feel better too, I don’t know, talk about it with someone who’s gone through it already.”

  The silence on Nadine’s end was painful. I watched the second count away on my phone as we waited, breath held, for her to answer.

  “Okay,” she finally said, then hung up.

  I looked at Parker. “Yay. Progress.”

  Parker smirked. “The nasty flamingo?”

  I made a circle with the left thumb and fingers then poked at it suggestively with my right index finger. Parkers eyebrows raised, then he laughed.

  Six-ten the next morning, Nadine called me. It was still dark outside, and I’d just come back inside the house from taking Smooshie out for her morning constitution.

  “Are you up?” she asked.

  “I am,” I told her. “Smooshie’s bladder waits for no sun. What’s up?”

  “I got Laverty’s address from the mobile data terminal in my cruiser last night. I can swing by, and we could go out to her place and see if she’s home.”

  Smooshie barked excitedly. “How about if I pick you up? Smooshie is anxious for an adventure, and I don’t want to ruin your fancy car.”

  “Deal,” she said. Almost hesitantly, she added, “I miss Smooshie.”

  I smiled. “I miss you too.”

  Chapter 18

  Smooshie sat between Nadine and me, but she kept climbing on Nadine’s lap to look out the window.

  “My gosh, she’s a big girl.”

  “Body shamer,” I teased.

  Nadine smacked my arm, and I giggled. She gave Smooshie a hug around her neck. “Don’t listen to her. You know I adore you and all your magnificent curves.”

  “What do you know about Electa? Other than her and Jock doing the nasty flamingo.”

  Nadine groaned. “Gross.”

  “You’re telling me. I never understood why so many women were attracted to him.”

  “Because he had money,” Nadine said. “Wealth has a way of making even the ugliest of souls attractive for some people.”

  “How are we playing this?” I asked.

  “We knock on her door. I’ll act official, and you do what you do that gets people talking.”

  I hadn’t told her about my witchy-juice, but maybe my uncle had. “Did Buzz tell you about my ability to know when people are lying?”

  “That’s not a thing,” she said.

  “Neither was shifters until you found out they were.”

  She grimaced. “Fair point.” She gave me a calculated stare. “You know when someone is telling a lie?”

  “Yep. Most people. I can’t read Parker, but he’s an open book for the most part. Everyone else though…it’s like a bell in my head when someone’s lying to me.”

  “So, if I said I lost my virginity when I was sixteen in the back of a Volkswagen…”

  Ping. “Lie.”

  Her eyes widened. “Fine, I was seventeen, and it was in his dingy basement.”

  Ping. “Lie.”

  She blinked. “Okay, I was fifteen, and it was in my childhood treehouse.”

  “Truth,” I said. “Seriously, in a treehouse?”

  She snickered. “The floor broke while we were doing it and my butt fell through.”

  I laughed. “I would have totally hung out with you in high school.”

  “Same,” she said fondly. “So, can you do anything else.”

  “Besides going all fur and fangs? Well, the same magic that helps me spot lies, also makes people spill their secrets to me. Not all the time, but if it’s something weighing on them that they want to get off their chests, or minor secrets that they don’t really care if someone finds out, they will tell me.”

  “After knowing you now for almost two years, a lot of stuff is starting to make sense now. I mean, I couldn’t believe how many times I wanted to tell you everything.”

  I nodded. “Even about Buzz and you doing the nasty flamingo,” I said. “Ew.”

  Nadine grinned. “He’s really good at the nasty flamingo, though.”

  “Yuck!” I laughed and almost missed my turn down Oak street. “Hold on.” I took the corner sharp but managed to make it. Thankfully, it was still early enough that there weren’t any other cars on the road. Smooshie rotated in the seat and licked my ear. ‘Not the ear, girl!”

  “You know, your abilities would make you a damn good police officer. Have you ever considered joining the force?”

  “I don’t want to chase criminals.”

  “Says the lady who has solved five murders and a bank robbery in the span of eighteen months. And, also, the lady who is chasing down a suspect as we speak.”

  “Touché.” This section of town had a lot of old Victorian, Colonial, and Queen Anne homes. “Which one is hers?”

  There,” Nadine said, pointing at a light blue Queen Anne style home. “That’s Laverty’s place.” It was an elaborate three-story, beautifully restored nod to the town’s history. Not as expensive as Jock’s house, but it still ranked high on the “places I’ll never be able to affor
d” list. We parked on the side of the road in front of the house. The sunrise made the entire neighborhood look as if it were being seen through a sepia filter.

  “It’s pretty,” I said. I rolled the windows down about four inches for Smooshie. It was still cool-ish outside so she would be fine in the car for a minute. “If you’re good,” I told her, “I’ll take you to get Pups-cream at the Moonrise Drive-in.” Her tail made a loud thunking noise as it slammed into the dashboard. I grinned. “Who am I kidding? I’ll take you no matter what. Still,” I added. “Behave.”

  Nadine waited half-way up the cement walkway for me, and together, we approached the door. “Let’s see how badly Electa Laverty wants to unburden,” Nadine said, then knocked.

  I attuned my ears toward the house. “I hear someone moving around inside.”

  We waited a few seconds, then Nadine knocked again.

  I heard a faint, “Go away.”

  “She’s in there,” I said. “She’s just not answering the door.”

  “Ms. Laverty,” Nadine said. “I’m Deputy Nadine Booth with the sheriff’s department. I have a few questions I want to ask you about Jock Simmons.”

  “I don’t have anything to say!” she yelled.

  I heard her footfalls getting farther away, then the hiss of a sliding glass door. “I think she’s trying to go out the back.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nadine muttered. “Don’t run, Ms. Laverty! You will only make it worse for yourself.”

  I’m going around back.” I raced to the backyard in time to see Electa in a pink housecoat and slippers, trying to pull herself up over a seven-foot privacy fence, and not making any real progress. Nadine was right on my heels.

  “What is she doing?”

  “Failing,” I said as we walked the rest of the way to where Electa had collapsed to cry.

  “Leave me alone,” she said.

  “You’re not in trouble,” I said with a soothing tone. “We just want to talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you.” Her face was puffy and red, no make-up, her blonde hair was oily, and she wore the scent of someone who hadn’t showered in days. Also, she reeked of booze. “Ms. Laverty. Electa.” I held out my hand and pushed all my will toward her. “Why don’t you let us help you?”

  She stared at me, her expression bleak, then nodded. “Okay.” She took my hand, and I pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go inside.”

  Electa’s house matched her appearance, messy and smelly. There was an open bottle of vodka on the kitchen counter, a sink full of crusty dishes, food left out one table including two open bags of chips, some dip that had gone from creamy to drippy, and a cheese wheel that had a big chunk sliced out of it. It resembled the cheese wheel in Jock’s fridge.

  “Did you and Jock buy the cheese together?”

  Electa looked at me like I’d grown an extra nose. “How did you know?”

  “I saw an identical wheel at his house.”

  Her back stiffened. “Why were you at his house?”

  “I was helping his wife, Theresa, to pack a few things.”

  “That witch.” Electa slapped a bag of chips off the table, and they sprayed all over the floor.

  “Settle down,” Nadine said. “When was the last time you saw Jock Simmons?”

  Electa sighed, her shoulders slumping before she laid her cheek onto the table. “I saw him Sunday.”

  “You were with him on Sunday?” I asked.

  She twisted her head to look at me, then sat up. A chip clung to her cheek. “I saw him,” she said sourly. “I wasn’t with him.”

  “Where did you see him?”

  Her face went blotchy. “With someone else.” She smashed the other bag of chips with an open palm.

  “Here, now,” Nadine chided. She glanced at me. “Is there any part of your ability that can stop her from being so destructive?”

  I shook my head. “’Fraid not.”

  “Fine,” Nadine said. “Who was he with?”

  When Electa didn’t answer her, I asked her the question. “Electa, who? Who was Jock with?”

  “He promised his tomcat days were over, but I caught him kissing another woman.”

  “Do you know who?”

  She heaved a sob. “No. I was driving home from church when I saw them, and by the time I got turned around, they were gone. I called him, but he hung up on me.” Her eyes narrowed into slits as rage filled her voice. “Me!” She thumped her chest. “After all, I’ve done for him.”

  I sat down in the chair next to her and put my hand on her forearm. “What have you done for him, Electa?”

  Her mouth dropped open a little then closed. She pursed her lips. “I shouldn’t say.”

  “But you want to tell me, don’t you?”

  The despondent woman nodded. “I do.”

  “What did you do for him?” I asked again.

  “I…I created situations during some of my inspections to fine people he asked me to.”

  “Like the Moonrise Pit Bull Rescue?”

  Her cheeks quivered. “Uh-huh. That bastard. I thought he loved me. I believed him.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  She sat up straight then and stared me straight in the eyes. “No. Didn’t that guy who owns the diner do it?”

  “No, he didn’t,” Nadine said with vehemence. “Tell the truth. You killed Jock and pinned it on Buzz.”

  “No,” Electa said. “I would never hurt Jock. Never.”

  I looked up at Nadine. “She’s telling the truth.”

  “Your mojo-thingy is wrong,” Nadine said. “It has to be.”

  “It’s not. She’s being truthful.”

  Nadine kicked the empty chip bag on the floor. “Damn it!”

  I understood her frustration, but I couldn’t let an innocent woman, well, at least innocent of murder, go to jail for a crime she didn’t commit.”

  “How long have you been padding inspections with violations?” Nadine asked.

  “Two years,” Electa said. “Not for Jock, though.”

  “Then for who?” I asked.

  “Clem Hanley,” she said. “My boss. He’s been skimming money from the extra fines for a long while.”

  “I have to call the sheriff,” Nadine said.

  “No.” Electa shook her head. “He knows. He already knows about Clem.”

  “The sheriff is in on the scheme?”

  “I threatened to go to the police once, and Clem told me that he had the sheriff in his pocket.”

  Nadine goggled at me.

  “She’s not lying.” I fought the nausea welling inside me and worked to slow down my rapidly beating heart. Nadine looked just as ill. “What do we do?” I asked. “If Sheriff Avery is corrupt, what chance do we have getting any kind of fair shake for Buzz?”

  “We call Bobby,” she said. “He’s the only one I trust at the department right now.”

  “He gave you the information about the phone.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. We take this information to Bobby.”

  “I won’t testify,” Electa said. “If you try to make me, I will say you are lying.”

  Nadine smirked and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “I have a recording,” she said. “I’ll use it if I have to.”

  Electa moaned. “Go away. Just go.”

  I got up, and Nadine followed me out the front door. I looked at my truck. Smooshie sat behind the steering wheel, looking, for anyone passing by, like she was ready to go driving. I looked at Nadine. “That was smart. Recording her. I wish I’d have thought of it.”

  “Me too,” she quipped.

  “Huh?”

  She took her phone from her pocket and pulled up her recorded file folder. It had one file. She pressed play, and it was Buzz’s voice telling her he loved her and to have a day as beautiful as she was.

  “You were bluffing? I didn’t feel the lie.”

  “That’s because I only said I had a recording. I didn’t say what th
e recording contained, so it wasn’t a lie. Buzz left it for me on my phone on our anniversary back in January. I play it when I’m feeling low.”

  “You are formidable, Nadine Booth.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” She gestured to Smooshie. “We owe our chauffeur a Pups-cream cone. I’ll call Bobby and see if he can meet us at the Moonrise Drive-in.”

  Chapter 19

  I’d let Smooshie poop and pee in a small area of grass near the Moonrise Drive-in before I clipped her leash to an eyehole attached to my truck bed near the back window. She had enough leash that if she jumped over the side, she wouldn’t hang herself, and she could sit up on the tail-bed with Nadine and myself if she wanted. She’d gobbled up her Pups-cream cone and amused herself by people watching, which shortly turned into a more interactive game than a spectator sport.

  I had flyers for the shelter’s open house in my glove box that I gave to anyone who wanted to smoosh them some Smooshie. Nearly twenty people, men, women, and children came over, asking if they could pet her. She smiled, posed for cute selfies, wiggled her butt, and in general, was a great ambassador for the pit bull breed and the rescue.

  I’d talked to one young man for nearly ten minutes on all the wonderful ways Smooshie improves my life. Before he walked away, he said, “I’ll see you at the open house.”

  “Yes,” I said to Nadine. “Maybe, he’ll adopt.”

  “Or maybe he’ll ask you out on a date.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That guy was hitting on you so hard, Lils. How can you be so good at reading people and so bad all at the same time?” I looked over at the guy, and he winked. I glanced away. Nadine giggled. “Parker better watch out.”

  “Parker has nothing to worry about. I’m a one-man woman.”

  Nadine giggled again. “You’re a cougar,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “Yes,” I said. “Why is that funny?”

  “No.” She smirked. “You are over a decade older than Parker. You are not only a literal cougar, you are also a cougar, cougar.”

  “You’re not funny.”