Crunch Time

working, and because he loves to go shopping for stuff he doesn’t need, stuff that she then has to dust. But she neglected to tell me that you had moved out, Yolanda, which I am sorry about—”

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Yolanda said, her tone bitter. “I’m fine.” As if to prove it, she took another swig of wine. “Can we change the subject?”

“I’m still mad at Penny,” Marla said stubbornly. “She should have told me that Yolanda had moved out, and then I wouldn’t have had to ask about it. Oh well,” she said. She looked around the kitchen. “Tom? Could you open that second bottle of wine? We should be talking about Ernest, not about problems with cleaning ladies.”

Tom opened the wine and filled the glasses again. When he sat down, he said, “Unlike many cops, Ernest was a neat freak. His desk was always the cleanest one I’ve ever seen in the sheriff’s department.”

And so we talked about Ernest. Ferdinanda said he was without prejudice and welcomed them into his home. Marla became weepy, and Tom diplomatically moved the open wine bottle off to a cupboard. Yolanda said Ernest cared about his clients. “He cared about everybody,” she added. “Even us,” she whispered.

It seemed as if the conversation was going to veer into something maudlin requiring more boxes of tissues than I knew I had on hand.

Marla and Ferdinanda began to talk about other topics, thank God. The two women seemed to have a natural affinity and found that they agreed on a variety of issues, from immigration reform (they were for it) to using margarine (they were against it). Neither Kris Nielsen’s nor Ernest McLeod’s name came up again.

Concentrating on food kept us from talking about all that had happened. Yolanda gradually seemed to relax. Tom winked at me several times as we ate and talked, and I found the stress melting out of my own body as well.

Speaking of men who love to shop, Tom had gone browsing in some specialty food stores the previous day, before all hell had broken loose with the murder of Ernest McLeod. He’d picked up a box of my favorite toffee, which was made with butter, cream, chocolate, and almonds. He chopped it, placed it on a plate, and passed it around. Marla restrained herself and had only one piece—there was that heart attack, after all—but Ferdinanda and Yolanda each had three pieces, plus coffee into which, as usual, they measured so many teaspoons of sugar, I couldn’t watch.

“If you want me to get those dogs bedded down at my place for the night,” Marla said at last, “I need to get cracking. Penny comes tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll find out why she held out on me regarding—” But when Marla saw Yolanda’s stricken face, she broke off. People may love to gossip, but when they discover how much being the subject of gossip hurts others, they often don’t love it so much anymore. “Sorry,” Marla mumbled.

“I’m doing the dishes,” Yolanda announced as she got up.

Tom protested. “You’re a guest. Besides, I’m the only one who knows where everything goes.”

“You cooked,” said Yolanda. “As soon as I get Ferdinanda settled in the tub, I’m cleaning up. Please just give Marla her three puppies.” Her voice cracked when she said, “Cleaning will help me.” Tom backed off.

Reluctantly, Tom and I gathered up a promising-looking trio of the little beagles. Outside, the weather had become even colder. When we picked up the puppies, they were covered with mud.

I felt horribly guilty. “We should have brought them in earlier.”

“They’ll be all right,” said Tom. “They’ve been out here having fun. Let’s just commandeer the kitchen sink and rinse them off in warm water. Can you get some thick bath towels that you don’t mind having stained?”

“You bet,” I said as I carried one of the squirming puppies into the house. While Yolanda pushed all the plates to one side of the counter, I put the first puppy into one half of the double kitchen sink, then turned the warm water on in the other sink.

“Good Lord,” said Marla, peering down at the grimy animal. “Please tell me you’re going to get those animals clean before they plop down in my Mercedes that I just had detailed.”

“Of course,” I called as I nabbed baby shampoo from the pantry and handed it to Tom. Then I headed to the linen closet.

When I returned, Tom was using a warm spray of water to rinse the shampoo off the puppies. He handed me the first beagle, and I rubbed it down with the old, plush towel.

“Very odd,” said Tom as he handed me the second puppy.

“What is?” Marla and I asked in unison.

“Every single one of these puppies is a female,” said Tom.

“So?” I asked as I dried off the third puppy. Marla was already hugging her first charge to her shoulder.

“Well, it looks as if they’ve been spayed already,” said Tom as he towel-dried his puppy. “I want to take a picture of this little pup and have my guys canvass the town’s veterinarians. I want to know who did these surgeries and why. It might explain why Ernest took them.”

Once Tom had taken photos, we got the puppies into a box and the box onto the floor of Marla’s expensive German car. By that time, she appeared to be having second thoughts. But she soldiered on. Like Yolanda, she wanted to do whatever it took to honor the memory of Ernest McLeod.

After shampooing the rest of the puppies, plus Jake, we bedded down all the dogs on clean newspaper in the pet-containment area. Tom showered and we finally fell into bed an hour later. I was so exhausted that I couldn’t even contemplate the prospect of catering the next day. But I dutifully set the alarm and snuggled in next to Tom.

“Thanks for a fabulous dinner,” I said.

“Miss G., when I think about that fire, and our guys being pulled off that house, and you in there, unprotected, I just . . . it’s not like you’re a regular vic, for God’s sake. You’re my wife.”

“We were fine. But we do still need to find out why someone wanted to hurt Ernest, and then why that person would try to destroy his house, and maybe us in the process. I wonder if it’s the same guy who was peeping in Yolanda’s windows at the rental. And could this guy have burned down that house, too? Really, we need to figure out if this is all the same person.”

“Who’s ‘we,’ woman?” said Tom. “The department needs to find out. Not you. Please don’t meddle in this.”

“I’m not meddling. I’m trying to help Yolanda, who is, remember, my longtime friend. Boyd likes her, don’t you think?”

Tom kissed my ear. “I don’t know and I don’t care. Your friend, who’s now been at the center of two arson investigations, was not particularly helpful, in case you didn’t notice.”

“She was downstairs in Ernest’s house, trying to help Ferdinanda—”

“There are caps you can wear that make you look bald,” Tom said.

“I know, Tom. But this person was husky.”

“There are big coats.”

I was about to disagree with him, but his cell rang. He rose quickly and punched the Talk button. “Schulz.”

He listened for a while, then said, “Is that a fact.” It was not a question. Then, “Okay, thanks, buddy, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Now what?” I asked.

Tom pulled me in playfully. “I thought you weren’t going to meddle.”

“Okay, don’t tell me.”

“That was Boyd again. Nobody in town saw Ernest. So they’re now pretty sure Ernest was on his way to the dental appointment when he was shot. It looks as if he was trying to get away from somebody on foot. There were shell casings nearby, from a thirty-eight.” Tom sighed. “But that being-on-the-way-to-the-dentist part? Seems Drew Parker, the dentist, left for Hawaii on Friday for a two-week vacation. So of course he didn’t have any appointments on Saturday. He gave us permission by phone to break into his office. We couldn’t find evidence that a receptionist or dental hygienist was working there in his absence, and Parker thinks he’s the only one with the right key, besides the building manager, who used to be with the department and is a good guy.”

“So who—”

“Ernest McLeod had been put down in the computer schedule to have a crown put on in a couple of weeks, right after Parker returned. That was probably the appointment that someone changed. We just don’t know who that person is. Parker says he recently fired his secretary, because she was snorting cocaine when she wasn’t getting patients into their chairs. The dental hygienist is a woman who always goes to Arizona at