Maximum Security (A Dog Park Mystery) (16 page)

She stared over his shoulder, at
the stars, considered. “Your name is Kirk. You’re a star basketball
player, and you were about to flunk out of English before the coach
hooked you up with me for tutoring. He really needs you for the
state championship. My name is . . . Natalie. I’m very protected
and inexperienced, and I’m saving myself for marriage. You’ve been
sitting really close to me for months and we keep exchanging looks.
Oh, and I’m the coach’s daughter. Dad said it was okay for you to
take me out for a milkshake since you passed your midterms. He
trusts you.”

She stepped out of Peter’s embrace
and turned wide eyes on him. “Kirk, I thought we were just getting
a milk shake. What are we doing here?”

“I just thought we’d go for a
walk.” He shrugged, faking indifference. “It’s a pretty night out.
You don’t have to be back yet, do you?” He dabbed the corner of her
mouth with his finger, grinned. “You had a bit of chocolate
there.”

“I guess it’s okay, but I’m a
little chilly.”

“Here,” he said as he took off his
jacket, slung it around her shoulders. “Warm enough?”

“Oh, Kirk, your letter jacket.
This is almost like being your girlfriend.”

“Would you like to be my
girlfriend?”

“I-I thought you were going steady
with Sally.”

“Nah, we just went out a couple
times. It’s not anything.”

“She’s so much prettier than I
am.”

He took her chin in his hand,
tilted her face up. “It’s all makeup and big tits. You’re prettier
than her any day.”

“You mean it?”

He bent over and pressed his lips
against hers. She kept her lips closed, like a proper virgin. He
kissed his way over to her ear, sucked on the lobe. A thrill shot
through her. “Open your mouth for me,” he whispered against her
skin.

Lia parted her lips and Peter
covered them with his own, slipping his tongue inside her mouth.
She jolted. “What are you doing?”

“Sweet Natalie, haven’t you ever
been French kissed?” His warm breath feathered her cheek. He slid a
chilled hand under the hem of her blouse, startling her as it met
the warm skin at her waist. “You want to be my girlfriend, don’t
you?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” She edged
away, dislodging his hand. “Someone could come along and see us.
Dad would kill me.”

He winked at her, nodded toward a
copse of evergreens with heavy boughs sweeping the ground. “Let’s
go in there. I bet it’s totally private.”

She said nothing as he led her
toward the circle of trees, then ducked between the branches,
disappearing in the shadows. She felt her way along, following the
pull of his hand. “Kirk, I can’t see you. I can’t see
anything.”

“It’s okay. Let’s sit down.” He
tugged. She sat on the blanket with a thump, bumped into
him.

“Oops, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
She felt around, trying to get her bearings in the dark. Her hand
collided with his chest. She snatched it back.

“Nah, I’m fine. Let me put my arm
around you. . . . There, are you warm enough?” His hand brushed the
outside of her thigh in a time-honored, faux-casual encroachment
that sent shivers through her.

“Uh-huh. Kirk?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you kiss me again?” she
asked, shyly. “I can’t do anything else, but I-I like kissing
you.”

“Are you ever going to let her off
that leash?” Bailey asked.

Lia eyed Max from her perch on the
picnic table. Max was giving Lia dirty looks from the other end of
the twenty foot training lead. “Nope.”

“Aw, she wants to be free, don’t
you, Max?” Jim said. “See, she wants to run around with the other
dogs. Look at how much fun Honey and Viola are having.”

Honey and Viola, Lia observed, were
laying in the grass, doing nothing. Just like Fleece and Chester.
“She doesn’t give a damn about the other dogs. She wants to be on
the other side of that fence.”

“You don’t know that,” Jim
said.

“I do know it, just like I know
that the minute she’s over the fence, you’re going to remember that
you’re late for an appointment to get your colon
irrigated.”

“Poor Max,” Jim said. “Nobody
loves you.” Max wandered up to Jim and gave him a sorrowful look.
He scratched behind her ears.

“I wish I could let her off lead.
As it is, I have to take an extra walk every day to give her some
exercise.”

“How did it go at Renee’s
yesterday?” Bailey asked. “Did she like your photos?”

“You know Renee. She’s so easy to
work with. I wish I could clone her. She invited George’s mystery
woman to have breakfast with us.”

“Really?”

“Poor woman.” Lia paused to
consider her ethics, then decided she could share some of Kitty’s
confidences. “She came all the way up here to be with the guy she
crushed on in high school, only to have him murdered and her a
suspect.”

“I’m sorry he died, but I don’t
condone adultery,” Jim said.

“I don’t think she’s responsible
for the issues George was having with Monica,” Lia said. “I think
meeting her again gave him the courage to face the problems that
were already there. She said he was talking about getting a
divorce.”

“Leaving someone is not facing
your problems,” Jim said.

“It sounds like he was being a
swinging monkey to me,” Bailey said.

“What’s that?” Lia
asked.

“That’s a guy who won’t let go of
the woman he’s got until he has the next one lined up, like Tarzan
swinging from vine to vine in the movies.”

“Women do it, too,” Jim said.
“It’s no better when they do it. Are you sure you should be
friendly with that woman? She did have a crossbow in her
trunk.”

“You sound like Peter. I don’t
believe she did anything. You should have heard her yesterday. She
needs all the friends she can get. She’s over a thousand miles from
home, stuck here while they sort things out. I’m glad Renee is
helping her.”

“Here, hold this.” Lia nodded to
the end of the inch-wide tape measure, which she pinned to the edge
of the stone fireplace with one hand. Renee took over and Lia
walked the tape out to the other side of the masonry column. Dakini
lay on the floor, sphinx-like, supervising this
operation.

Lia eyed the markings. “Eight feet,
give or take a half inch to allow for irregularities in the
stones.” She walked the tape back and took the end from Renee. “How
high is the ceiling?”

“Fifteen feet, at this
end.”

Lia measured from the top of the
mantel to the floor. “Five and a half. That gives us nine and a
half feet by eight feet to play with. We’ll want a roomy margin of
stone all the way around, at least two feet.”

“I want her to look like she’s
jumping over the heads of everyone in the room,” Renee said. “The
grandkids will love it and it’ll make Harry’s business associates
nervous, just the way he likes them. You can make it look like
she’s going to pop right off the canvas can’t you?”

“I’ll do my best,” Lia
promised.

“I’m sure it will be wonderful. I
trust your judgement. Now have a seat and let’s discuss other
topics.”

“Don’t you mean
gossip?”

“Well, if you want to get all
technical about it.”

Lia sat on one end of the leather
sofa. Renee poured coffee from the thermal carafe Esmerelda had
brought in earlier. Lia accepted the cup, added half-and-half.
Renee sat down by her. Dakini jumped up on the sofa next to her
mom.

“Where’s Kitty?” Lia asked. “How’s
she holding up?”

“Poor thing. Not so well, I’m
afraid. She puts on a brave front, but I think she’s just
devastated. Wouldn’t you be? I talked her into letting my massage
therapist come and give her a session in the guest apartment. I
thought that would be best. I wanted to talk to you in
private.”

“Oh?”

“She needs some help, and I think
we should give it to her. You know that stick of a wife has to be
behind George's murder, even if she didn’t do it herself. Who else
would want him dead?”

“She does seem like the obvious
choice, but what can we do about it?”

“We need some good intel. I don’t
know the woman, so that leaves you.”

“Me? What do you want me to do
about it?”

“Just talk to her and be
sympathetic. I know you can handle that. You dealt with Catherine,
and she could be a real witch.”

Lia leaned back, furrowed her brow.
“What exactly do you have in mind, Renee?”

“Oh, nothing onerous, I assure
you. The family is grieving, aren’t they?”

“I suppose so.”

“What do you do when a family has
a loss? You take them food, of course. Then she has to be polite
and invite you in. You just get her talking and see what falls out
of her mouth. Notice things in her house, that sort of
thing.”

“So you want me to make her food,
then take it to her and pump her for information.”

“Exactly, but you don’t have to
cook anything. I’ve got Esmerelda putting together a lasagna for
you to take over there.”

“You want Peter to kill
me?”

“What’s the harm? George was a
regular in your park, wasn’t he? Isn’t this a natural thing for a
caring person to do? And if you happen to see or hear anything
interesting, well, you don’t have to tell Peter about it, do you?
But it might give Kitty’s lawyer something to work with. You can
get in there where a private detective is stuck outside, staring in
the windows.”

After her previous experience with
Monica, Lia thought it unlikely the widow would invite her in. She
supposed she could deliver a casserole, just to make Renee
happy.

“This is just a one time thing,
right?”

“Well, I was thinking, she’s not
likely to spill her guts the first time you drop by, but if you
went a few times and became more of a presence, she might relax a
bit. Don’t you worry, though. I’ll have Esmerelda make up your care
packages. The dog park really ought to be making a show of support,
don’t you agree?”

Lia shook her head, amused. ”You
railroad Harry like this often?”

“All the time.”

“I’ll take the lasagna, but I’m
not promising anything after that. And I won’t keep secrets from
Peter. We made a deal about that.”

Lia took a deep breath, then rang
the doorbell. A deep, melodious chime sounded within. Monica Munce
answered the door wearing neat camel-colored slacks and a
boat-neck, business-casual tee. Both had been ironed. The pants had
knife-edge creases.

“It’s kind of you to drop by. As I
said over the phone, it really isn’t necessary. Will you come in
and have a cup of coffee?”

Lia agreed, hoping she wasn’t going
to float away after all the coffee she’d already had. She followed
Monica through a spotless living room to the breakfast bar that
fronted the kitchen. Everything was perfectly arranged, except for
a stack of library books on a table by the door. She was certain
the decorating scheme had been copied out of some paint store color
guide, if not from Martha Stewart’s magazine. Monica looked ready
for Dame Martha herself to drop in.

She looked, but could not spot a
dog hair anywhere. She hadn’t known George very well. Still, she
couldn’t feel his hand in the house. His presence had been
relegated to a montage of family photos on the hall
wall.

“Who’s into Suzanne
Collins?”

“Sorry?”

“I saw
The Hunger Games
in
your living room.

“Oh, that’s my daughter, Stacy.
All the girls want to be Katniss now. I hope you don’t mind sitting
in the kitchen. It’s where I do everything.”

“It’s lovely. You have such a
beautiful home.”

“Thank you. Let me take that. You
really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, but Stacy and I
appreciate the effort. I do enjoy lasagna. If it wasn’t for the
carbs, I’d have it all the time. What’s in this one?”

Lia stammered mentally while Monica
put the lasagna into the fridge, then poured coffee in sunny yellow
mugs that matched other decorating accents.

“Family secret?” Monica asked when
Lia didn’t answer.

Lia smiled and shrugged. “You know
how it is.”

“I certainly do.” She handed one
mug to Lia. “I’ve got skim, if you want it. I’m afraid I don’t have
any whole milk or cream.”

“Skim is fine.” She topped the
coffee using a small pitcher with a sunflower motif. “How are you
getting along?” she asked once Monica was settled.

Monica gave her a tremulous smile.
“I don’t know if you’ve ever lost anyone. One day I’m okay and the
next I fall to pieces again.” She sipped her coffee. “Then there’s
the funeral.

“I have to apologize for the other
day. I’d just gotten off the phone with the morgue. They won’t
release George until a forensic anthropologist has a chance to
examine him, and it’s got me very upset.