“Did you find yours on your doorstep too?” asked Charlotte.
Katherine nodded. “You too?”
“Mine I got from Alice’s. Althea found hers on her doorstep, though.”
“Darndest thing,” repeated Althea.
“I was coming over to give the sheriff the dog,” said Katherine.
“Me too,” chimed Althea. “Great minds think alike.”
Katherine grinned and the two of them stood nodding their heads in unison.
Charlotte stared at the rolling mass of puppies in the box. Who would leave puppies on people’s doorsteps? And did the other puppies make it more or less likely the puppies were connected to Alice’s death?
She glanced from Katherine to Althea and back again.
They both look fine...
“Y’all feel okay?” she asked.
Both women’s expressions scrunched.
“What? Why?” asked Althea. “Are those puppies sick?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No…” She glanced down at the box, which was slowing working its way to the right as the puppies wrestled inside. She hadn’t thought about the puppies being carriers of disease.
They don’t look like sick puppies...
She waved away their concern. “That’s not what I meant. Nothing. Stupid thought.”
Althea slapped the air with a limp wrist. “Can you give this one to the sheriff for me? I gotta get back to my stories.”
“Sure.”
Althea was already on her way back home before Charlotte could finish her single-word answer.
“Ooh, me too,” said Katherine as Althea shuffled away in her slippers. “I mean, the thing is adorable but I already have Coco.”
Charlotte nodded. “Sure, I’ll take it.”
Pineapple Port had a one-dog-at-a-time policy. Except for Jill over on Heron Lane who had six Yorkshire terriers, not dissimilar from the ones in the box. Her brood had been grandfathered in, and was probably the reason they’d made the new dog rule in the first place. Each time one of her Yorkies died, she replaced it with another, gave it the same name and carried on as if nothing had happened. Everyone knew they weren’t the same six dogs she had twenty years ago, but everyone played along.
Charlotte put her hands on her hips. She didn’t know what she was going to do with three puppies, but she hadn’t known what she was going to do with the first one, either.
Katherine touched her upper arm. “Thanks so much. Do you want the box?”
“Yes. I’d better take it. It might be evidence.”
“Even better.” Katherine thrust the box at her and plucked out the dish towel lying at the bottom. “I was using this for a pee pad.”
“You can keep that then.”
Katherine laughed and turned to go, waving one last time above her head as she headed back home.
Charlotte looked down at the three rolling puppies.
“What am I going to do with you?”
Chapter Five
Charlotte did her best to stuff Althea’s box into Katherine’s, combining the puppies into one ping-ponging box of puppies. A car drove up as she attempted to balance the two crates, slowing beside her as the window lowered.
“I’m going to talk to Mariska. Want a ride?” asked Frank.
“You have no idea. My load has gotten a little heavier since I started.” She lowered the boxes so Frank could see inside.
He scowled. “It multiplied?”
“Our mysterious puppy delivery service left one with Althea Moore and one with Katherine O’Malley.”
“You’re kidding.”
Charlotte walked to the passenger side and tucked the puppy-filled box on the floor.
“Do you want the boxes for evidence?”
Frank grimaced as he rolled forward. “If puppies are showing up all over the neighborhood, I doubt the person who dropped them off also had time to kill Alice...but I’d better keep them.”
When they reached Mariska’s, Charlotte prepared herself to wrestle the combined puppy boxes out of the car.
“I’ll have to get the boxes back to you when I find a new puppy prison.”
She glanced at Mariska’s house with dread, knowing Frank was about to tell the woman she was a suspect in Alice’s death.
Mariska was going to freak out.
Maybe I should invite myself in for that interview.
“I think Mariska has a crate she used to train Izzy. I’ll head in there with you.”
Without responding one way or the other, Frank walked to Mariska’s door and knocked while she jerked the puppy box out of the cruiser. One of the puppies had curled up for a nap. The other two stared up at her with sleepy eyes. It had been a lot of wrestling and a busy day for three babies.
Charlotte carried the box to Mariska’s door. She’d fallen too far behind, and by the time she’d found a way to open the door and cart the box inside unassisted, Frank had already delivered his news. She entered the kitchen in time to see Mariska slap her counter, her face flush with emotion.
“Absolutely not!”
“Thanks for the help with the door,” muttered Charlotte.
Frank turned to look at her. “Huh?”
“Nothing.”
Frank turned back to Mariska and held out both hands, palms up, in mea culpa. “You cook a lot. People who cook a lot like to put their own spin on things, don’t they?”
Charlotte set down the box. Mariska’s chubby white mutt, Miss Izzy, who’d joyfully jogged towards her, propelled by her wagging tail, peeked into the box. Her expression soured. She sniffed the pups and looked up with the eyes of a jilted lover, seemingly disgusted someone would bring puppies into her house. Walking past Mariska into the living room, Izzy threw herself down and looked away from the puppy box, only her bouncing eyebrows betraying the occasional glance each time one of the puppies made a noise.
Charlotte suffered a pang of guilt before turning her attention to Mariska. “We know it isn’t your fault if you added nuts—”
“But I didn’t. I’d tell you if I did.” Mariska’s gaze dropped to the
