Groomed For Murder: A Pet Boutique Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

center out of Dolly’s reach, as though she might lunge for the weapon and start taking potshots at Jack and me.
    “I’m sorry about this, Ms. Johnston,” he said as he gently raised her hands above her head and began to pat her down. He paused when he reached the pocket of the daring kimono-cut jacket she’d picked out for the wedding.
    “Izzy,” he murmured. “Run downstairs and get me a paper bag and a plastic Baggie.”
    I did as he said, clattering down the back stairwell as fast as my legs would carry me. I found a Baggie in adrawer by the stove, and I grabbed one of the white paper bags Rena used to package her pet treats.
    When I got back upstairs and handed the items to Jack, he shook open the paper bag with a loud snap. He then put his hand in the plastic bag, creating a makeshift glove, and reached gingerly into Dolly’s pocket. When his hand emerged, I was puzzled to see him holding a toothbrush. He dropped it into the paper bag, rolled over the bag’s top, shook the Baggie off his hand, and tucked it in the pocket of his twill pants.
    I shot him a questioning look. He lifted his shoulders in the universal sign for “I don’t have a clue.”
    By then, Dolly was starting to regain her faculties. “Is he dead?” she asked.
    “Yes,” Jack replied simply, carefully studying her face for a reaction.
    Poor Dolly’s shoulders drooped in misery. “Oh dear. This is all my fault.”
    “What do you mean by that?” Jack asked.
    “Not another word.” I hadn’t heard Sean coming up the stairs behind me, but I was glad he had. “Dolly? Do you want me to represent you?”
    “Represent me?” she asked, clearly not grasping the gravity of her situation.
    “Yes,” I said firmly. “You do want Sean to represent you.”
    She still looked puzzled, but she shrugged. “Okay.”
    Jack glared at Sean, who kept his expression carefully neutral. “My client will not be speaking with the police at this time.”
    “Lawyers,” Jack muttered.
    “Cops,” Sean muttered back.
    Jack took a step toward him, and for an instant I thought they might come to blows. “You’re not doing her any favors by telling her not to cooperate.”
    “Why don’t you leave the legal advice to me, big guy? You stick with the crime-solving bit.”
    Jack growled low in his throat before turning away. He stepped around Dolly, and made his way gingerly up the stairs to my apartment, likely making sure the culprit hadn’t escaped up instead of down.
    Sean walked over to my aunt, grasped her hands gently, and looked her square in the eyes. “Don’t you ever—
ever
—tell a cop that something is your fault.”
    “But it is,” Dolly said, her voice soft but firm.
    Jack reappeared on the second-floor landing, rocking on his heels to contain his nervous energy. He was ready to take Dolly in.
    Sean glanced at Jack over Dolly’s head and sighed in frustration. “Right this moment,” he told my aunt, “I’m not concerned about the truth. I’m concerned about keeping you out of jail. Not another word, you hear me?”
    Dolly’s gaze slid to the side, staring into the middle distance, but she nodded.
    I’d never in my life seen my feisty aunt look so small.

CHAPTER
    Three
    T he rest of the evening passed in a blur. The police took extra time to ask Ama Olmstead about the pictures she’d taken, demanding copies of them all. Her husband, Steve, towered over her, protective of his petite wife. He had his finger in his mouth when I caught his eye, and he quickly removed it.
    He must have snuck a taste of the cake icing. I didn’t blame him. I could use a little cake right then . . . some sugar to bolster me through the rest of the evening. I sighed, realizing the cake would likely go to waste. What an awful evening.
    The guests left after signing in with the police, and Ingrid and Harvey, still unwed, retired to my third-floor apartment. I think Harvey was more shaken than Ingrid, but she graciously claimed she needed to lie