Diane turns our way just as Georgie takes Sherlock off his leash. All that warring for five seconds of notoriety. That’s Georgie in a nutshell.
“Hey”—I pin a bright smile to my face I as wave to Diane—“fancy meeting you here.” I figured I’d better play it coy. If she is the killer, the last thing I want her to be aware of is that I’m stalking her at the moment.
Her coat is open in the front, and she has a bright pink sweatshirt on that reads Gizmo’s Mom. On her head, an equally bright pink hat reads Dogs over People.
Her mouth squares out as she inspects me a moment.
“Fancy meeting you here, too,” she says, snapping her fingers in my direction. “I’m terrible with names, but I do remember yours was super cute. Was it Lizzy?”
“Bizzy,” I say, and we share a warm laugh.
And just like that, I’ve primed my suspect—with my name of all things. It’s been a go-to icebreaker for some time. But who knew it would come in handy under such dark circumstances?
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m infamous for butchering names. That is, if I can actually remember them. They seem to go in one ear and out the other these days.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “It’s not the easiest name to remember. And where’s your cute little teddy bear pup? Was it Gimble?” I snap my own fingers while glancing down at her shirt. “Gizmo!”
I figure she might like me a bit more if I shared her plight to botch names.
Sugar groans. Really, Bizzy? There has got to be an easier way to speak to a suspect than adapting their weaknesses as your own.
If there is an easier way, I don’t know about it.
“Yup, Gizmo is my fur baby. He’s around somewhere,” Diane says while squinting at the carrier strapped to my chest. “Hey, is that you, squirt?” She reaches over and plucks Sugar on out. “Hey there, cutie pie.” She plies Sugar with snuggles and kisses, and the tiny fuzzy cat purrs like a jet engine. “What’s a cute kitty like you doing at a dog park like this?” She laughs at her own joke, and I join right along.
“I’m still watching her for Bobbie. My friends and I thought we’d let our puppies stretch their legs, and I couldn’t leave her at home. I thought she could use the fresh air, too.”
A yelp comes from our left, and we turn to find Georgie surrounded by a dozen barking, snarling canines, all drooling to sink their teeth into her salty stash.
“Bizzy Baker!” she shouts while holding the bucket above her head and running in a circle.
“Oh, good grief.” I cringe as I mentally catalog all the ways this could go south for the entire lot of us. “Drop the bucket, Georgie!” I shout. “It’s not worth a broken hip!” Or me losing the attention of a prime suspect, but that may have already happened.
It takes approximately three full seconds before it rains bacon, and now there are at least two dozen dogs flocking all around her. However, not one of them is barking or snarling. They’re all eating.
Georgie quickly makes her escape as she heads our way.
“Are you okay?” Diane calls out, and Georgie gives her the thumbs-up. “We don’t recommend feeding other people’s pets because they might be on special diets.” She grimaces at Georgie as if it pained her to have to call her out on the obvious. “You don’t have any more bacon, do you?”
“Does a bear poop in the woods?” Georgie opens her tote bag to reveal a whole new stash of salted meat. It looks as if the Cottage Café will have to pick up some more bacon if it wants to meet the breakfast demands come morning.
Diane shrugs over at her. “Well, hand some over. I could go for a snack myself.”
“I knew I liked you.” Georgie gives her a generous fistful, and soon they’re both noshing on cured meat. “So what brings you here? Let me guess. You’re looking to pick up a cutie for yourself? I’m telling you, no matter how old we get, it’s never fun staring down the barrel of that heart-shaped day. Any luck with the men around here, or are they all a bunch of dogs?”
The two of them share a laugh.
“Nope.” Diane gives a wistful tick of the head. “I’m all done looking for men. I landed myself a good one a few years back, a man named Rick.” She glances my way. “In fact, Bobbie Buckingham was the reason I met him. She was adding on a small office for herself on her property, and Rick was the senior building inspector. We’ve been married for years now, and don’t think Bobbie hasn’t taken credit for it, too. She’s added us to her success stories’ lineup at the end of her new book. That was my idea to add the successful couples’ list addendum. I figured a testimonial or two might help boost their sales. I can’t help it, I’m a businesswoman at heart. I used to be a franchisee of Donut King, had about three stores, but I sold them all a few years back.”
Georgie and I moan in unison as a bad donut craving hits us both at once.
“I love the Donut King,” I say. “You just can’t find a soft, melt in your mouth donut like that anywhere else.” I look to Georgie. “But don’t tell Emmie.”
Georgie waves me off. “Everyone knows the Donut King is royalty when it comes to deep-fried confections. So what keeps you busy these days?”
“This place, for one. And I do some light managing for Bobbie and Lacey.” Something snags her attention, and she makes a face. “Hey!” she shouts over at someone across the way.
