Mantz watched, cool-eyed, as Fiona supervised owners and dogs. “Is that what you’re going to tell her?”
“Let’s hope I don’t have to.”
He walked to the porch and, a gentleman to the core, sat on the toy chest to leave the rocker for his partner.
“She’s pretty isolated out here,” Mantz began, then reared back, hands out, when Bogart bopped up to say hello. “Stay back. Go away.”
Tawney patted his knee, inviting Bogart over. “Good dog. What’s the problem, Erin?”
“I don’t like dogs.”
They’d only been partners a few months and were still learning each other’s quirks and rhythms. “What’s not to like?”
“Dog breath, shedding, big, sharp teeth.” Bogart’s tail whapped her legs as Tawney rubbed him. Mantz got to her feet, moved out of range.
Peck sauntered up, glanced at Mantz, got the message. He bumped his nose on Tawney’s knee.
“These must be her dogs. You read her file, didn’t you?” he asked Mantz. “They’re S-and-R dogs. She has three. Trains them, too. She started her own unit out here.”
“You sound like a proud daddy.”
He glanced up, cocking his eyebrows at the edge of sarcasm. “I find her a tough, admirable young woman, one who helped us put a monster in a cell by standing up in court, hanging in, even after her fiancé was murdered.”
“Sorry. Sorry. The dogs make me nervous, and being nervous makes me bitchy. I read Greg Norwood’s file, too. He was a good cop. Came off solid. A little old for her, don’t you think?”
“I’d say that was up to them.”
“Proud and protective daddy.”
“Is that you being nervous and bitchy?”
“Just me observing. Jesus, here comes another one.”
She moved over another foot as Newman trotted onto the porch.
By the time Fiona finished class, her three dogs were sprawled happily at Tawney’s feet, and his partner stood rigidly at the far end of the porch.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Did you make friends with the boys?”
“I did. Agent Mantz doesn’t like dogs.”
“Oh, sorry. I’d have kept them off the porch. Why don’t we go inside? They’ll stay out. Stay out,” she repeated, and opened the front door.
“You’re not fenced,” Mantz observed. “Aren’t you worried they’ll run off ?”
“They’re trained not to go past certain boundaries without me. Please, sit down. Why don’t I make some coffee? I’m nervous,” she said before Tawney could respond. “Even though it’s you, even though I was expecting someone and I’m glad it’s you. I’ll make some coffee and settle down.”
“Coffee’d be good.”
“Is it still coffee regular?”
He smiled. “It still is.”
“Agent Mantz?”
“Same for me, thanks.”
“I’ll just be a minute.”
“Nice place,” Mantz commented when she was alone with her partner. “Tidy. Quiet, if you like quiet. I’d go nuts.”
“Deb and I talk about getting a quiet place in the country when we retire.”
Mantz glanced back at him. They hadn’t been partners long, but she knew enough. “You’d go nuts.”
“Yeah. She thinks we could take up birding.”
“Does that mean watching them or shooting them?”
“Watching them. Jesus, Erin, why would I go out and shoot birds?”
“Why would you watch them?”
He sat a moment. “Damned if I know.”
When Fiona came back, she carried three mugs on a tray. “I’ve got these cookies Sylvia baked, which means they’re disguised health food, so I can’t promise anything.”
“How is Sylvia?” Tawney asked.
“She’s great. Her shop’s doing really well, and it keeps her busy. She helps me out here, taking classes if I get called out on a search. She’s huge into organic gardening, heads up a monthly book club, and she’s making noises about starting yoga classes—teaching them, I mean. I’m rambling. Still nervous.”
“You have a nice place here. You’re happy?”
“Yes. I needed to move, the change, and it turned out to be the best thing I could’ve done for myself. I love my work, and I’m good at it. At first, I think it was just escape, immerse myself in something so I’d have a reason to get up in the morning. Then I realized it wasn’t escape, it was finding my place, my purpose.”
“You’re not as easily accessible here, for your business, as you would’ve been in Seattle.”
“No. I started out slow, and small. The Internet and word of mouth helped me grow, and starting the unit, building a reputation. I’m still pretty small, but it’s the right fit for me. And that was all a way to ease me into saying I live in a fairly remote location and spend a lot of time either alone or with people I don’t really know—at least not initially.”
“Do you do any sort of screening before you take on a client?” Mantz asked.
“No. A good chunk of my business comes from referrals. Friends, family, coworkers recommending me. I do offer personal behavior training, but that’s a really small percentage of my business. Most are classes, ranging from about five dogs to a max of twelve per class.”
“How about anyone who’s signed up for your class who gave you trouble? Wasn’t satisfied with the results.”
“It happens sometimes. I usually offer them their money back, because it’s better business. A pissed-off client’s going to trash you to friends, family, coworkers, and that could cost me more than a refund.”
“What do you do when a client hits on you? You’re a young, attractive woman,” Mantz continued. “It’s a pretty sure bet it’s happened.”
She hated it, hated the intrusion into every corner of her private life. All the questions they asked of victims and suspects. She was neither, Fiona reminded herself.
She was something else entirely.
“If a client’s single and I’m interested, I’d consider seeing him outside class.” She spoke briskly, almost carelessly. “It doesn’t happen often. If he’s not single, or I’m just not interested, there are ways to discourage and deny without causing friction.”
Fiona picked up a cookie, then just turned it in her fingers. “Honestly, I can’t imagine anyone I’ve discouraged or who hasn’t been satisfied with my work mailing me a red scarf. It’s cruel.”
“Someone you broke off a relationship with?” Mantz continued. “Angry exes can be cruel.”
“I don’t have any angry exes. That’s not being naive. After I lost Greg, and then my father, I wasn’t interested in dating or relationships. It must’ve been close to two years before I so much as had dinner with somebody who wasn’t a close friend. I haven’t had a serious relationship in a very long time, until recently.”
“You’re involved with someone now?”
“I’m seeing someone, yes.”
“For how long?”
Resentment tightened her belly. “Altogether, a couple months. He lives here, on the island. I’m working with his dog. He’s not connected to this.”
“We’ll need his name, Fiona, just so we can eliminate him.”
Fiona looked at Tawney, sighed. “Simon Doyle. He’s a wood artist. He made the rocker on the porch.”
“Nice chair.”
“The scarf was mailed from Oregon. Simon hasn’t been off the island. Agent Tawney, we all know there are two possibilities. The first is somebody following the news reports of the murders, somebody who read the article
