Collared For Murder (20 page)

Twenty-two

D
espite my best efforts to be upbeat, my farewell to Ingrid and Harvey the next day was more bitter than sweet. The whole gang gathered at Trendy Tails for a bon-voyage party, complete with streamers, balloons, and a cake, but the festivities felt forced. We had already resigned ourselves to seeing less of Ingrid and Harvey when they’d originally planned to split their time between Merryville and Boca. And this wasn’t goodbye forever, as we all had an open invitation to go visit them whenever we wanted—even Packer and Jinx. But it still felt so final.

Dolly and Richard sat hand in hand, their public display of affection a clear sign of how hard hit they both were at the thought of Ingrid and Harvey leaving for good. Even Dolly’s wardrobe was solemn . . .
for Dolly. She wore her favorite tangerine platform sandals but paired them with a pair of hot-pink capris and a hot-pink T-shirt that boasted only a smattering of sequins.

Rena ate a bowl of ice cream with less enthusiasm than I’ve ever in my life seen someone eat a bowl of ice cream, while Sean stood with his arm draped around her shoulders. He stared at the floor, his dark runaway curls obscuring almost all of his face.

My mom, Lucy, and Dru were huddled together in a little knot of mourning. I actually heard my mother sniff. I was so close with Ingrid that I’d forgotten Ingrid and my mother had a much longer relationship, more a bonding of peers than a mentor-mentee relationship.

For my part, I sat next to Jack, trying to make conversation, with Jinx draped over my lap and Packer sleeping in a tight circle beneath my chair.

“So how did you figure out it wasn’t Pris?” Ingrid asked.

“All along it just didn’t seem like the sort of crime she’d commit. The evidence against her kept mounting: she’d changed her clothes the morning of the murder. She’d been in possession of the dangle, been to see a fence. But it always felt a little off. When I went to see Pris before the masquerade, I just flat-out asked her about her change of wardrobe that morning. Where was she and why wouldn’t she tell the police about an alibi if she had one?”

“And?”

“She was seeing a divorce lawyer.”

“Really? But she’s stuck with that sleazeball Hal for so many years.”

“Right. Because if she walked away, she got nothing. But they were broke. The day before, Phillip had said he was going to force Hal out of the development and Pris had had to fend off a call from Sandra Lowe, the woman who moved her family to Merryville to live in one of the imaginary condos. At that point she figured that even if she got everything Hal had, she’d have a big fat goose egg. There was absolutely no reason for her to stick with him.”

“But why not tell the cops?” Jack asked. “That alibi would have gone a long way to clearing her of the theft, and Gil Dixon was pretty certain that the two crimes—the theft and the murder—were related.”

“She didn’t want anyone to know. By the time she got back from the lawyer and changed into more appropriate clothes for the long day of work ahead of her, Phillip was dead and the Olsons’ financial situation was on the upswing again. She didn’t want Hal to know she’d gone to see an attorney, for fear it would prompt him to do the same.”

“People are so complicated,” Ingrid said.

“Aren’t they?” I tried to lighten the mood a little. “Now, enough of all this glum talk. Harvey, I can’t wait to meet your daughter and your grandkids.”

“Oh, yeah.” The reticent Harvey smiled. “You’ll love my Julie. You two are a lot alike.”

Ingrid huffed. “Julie doesn’t get in nearly as much trouble as Izzy here.”

“Amen to that,” Jack offered.

“I don’t get into trouble alone, you know. Everyone in this room has played some role in getting me into some sort of mess.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Sean offered with a small grin. “Getting you into trouble.”

“And, to be fair,” Dru chimed in, “we’ve all had a hand in getting you out of those messes, too.”

“Also what friends are for,” Sean said.

“Well, then, by golly, I’m blessed with some of the best friends a girl could have.” My eyes flew to Ingrid’s face, and I choked on the last word.

“Oh my heavens,” Ingrid said. “What a bunch of Gloomy Gusses you all are! We’re not dying. We’re moving to Florida.”

“Same difference,” Lucy said, a hint of her snarky self peeking through the gloom.

“Young lady, you have no idea what we do in our village. We play badminton and tennis and croquet and bocce. We have speaker events. Do you know how many visits from presidential candidates the community received in the last election? You’d think that residents of Shady Creeks were the only voters in America. Heck, we’ve even got a disco on-site.”

The image of Ingrid and Harvey doing the hustle beneath a disco ball broke the tension and we were all finally able to laugh.

Ingrid drew herself up even straighter in her seat, head high. “In case you didn’t already know, I’m giving the house to Izzy. She can keep running Trendy Tails here or do whatever she wants with it. I would just note,” she added, looking pointedly at Jack, “that there are a lot of bedrooms in this house.”

Harvey patted her on the arm. “Ingrid, darling, don’t make the boy blush.”

Jack had, indeed, gotten some color in his cheeks, and I couldn’t help but grin. Ingrid had never had children, which meant she’d never had grandchildren, and she was eager for someone to spoil.

“So what are you planning to do with the business?” Jack asked, deftly changing the subject. “Since Phillip is himself no longer a threat, are you going to take a wait-and-see approach?”

Rena chimed in. “No way. First of all, Phillip’s company survives him, and we have no idea whether they’ll decide to run with his idea. Either way, though, this experience has made us very aware of how tenuous our situation is. We do great with locals and tourists, but if we want to grow—and we
need
to grow—we’ll be doing it online, where we’re competing in a crowded industry.”

Sean laughed. “You sound like a regular tycoon. I’d
never in a million years have expected to hear you talking about business with such ease.”

“Well, I mostly like to bake dog biscuits, but I’ll learn whatever I have to learn to be able to keep on doing that.”

I leaned forward. “We’ve decided to do a little rebranding. We’ll work up to a launch of a new store called Swag and Wags. We’ll emphasize that our garments are bespoke, made by hand to the exact measurements of your pet. And we’ll offer a limited selection of human clothes to match our pet collections. We think that will carve us a nice niche in the industry.”

Ingrid beamed. “I’m so proud of you two. You’re going to take the business world by storm, and I can’t wait to watch.”

“By the way, what happened with Peter and Marsha Denford?” Dru asked.

“They were both booked for conspiracy to commit grand larceny and murder two,” Jack answered. “While Peter won’t say another word, Marsha is singing like Streisand. I’d say she’s within an inch of a deal, and then the weight of the offenses will fall on Peter.”

“I have to admit, what they did was absolutely horrible, but I thought it was kind of sweet the way Peter rolled over when it looked like Marsha would be implicated, making sure to downplay her role. For him, it’s true love,” I said.

“You. Are. Such. A. Sap,” Lucy said with a waggle of her head.

“I’m not the one who was writing ‘I heart Xander’ and ‘Lucy Stephens’ all over the scratch paper at the front of the store.”

“They were just doodles.”

“Girls!” my mother snapped. “I’ve raised all three of you—”

“‘Three of you’? How did I get dragged into this?” Dru whined.

“Nothing, dear,” my mom replied, as Lucy and I mouthed “Nothing, dear” in sync. My mother was always placating Dru, assuring her she wasn’t a derelict like Lucy and me.

“Jeez, Dru,” Dolly groused. “You’re never any fun.”

Sean nodded in Jack’s direction. “You sure you want a part of this?”

Jack laughed. “Sometimes I fear for my life when they form a pack like this, but in ones and twos, I can hold my own against the McHale women.”

“As I was saying,” my mom continued pointedly, “I raised all three of you girls, and you all have tender hearts. Which is why, young man,” she said, turning on Jack, “if you hurt my girl, all the McHale women—”

“And me!”

“Me too!”

“Me three!”

“—all the McHale women and Dolly, Ingrid, and Rena will give you no peace.”

Jack looked at Sean, and Sean offered a wry smile and a shrug in response.

“I wouldn’t dare hurt Izzy,” Jack said softly, staring down at me as I gazed up into his handsome face. “In fact, I’ve got a proposition.”

He leaned down to lift Jinx off my lap and drape the cat over his own shoulder. “Jinx,” he said in a stage whisper, “I know this cat named Steve, and he’s a fine fellow. How would you feel about having him as a roommate?”

“That girl’s not going to give her cat to you, son,” Richard Greene said.

“Oh, hush, Dickie. Jack’s asking Izzy to move in with him.”

“Well, he’s not doing a very good job of it,” Richard said.

A chorus of “Hush” rang out in the room.

“Actually, Richard’s right. I’m mucking this up.” Jack carefully set Jinx on the floor and dropped to a knee. “Izzy McHale, I’m not asking you to move in with me. I’m asking you to marry me.”

I gasped.

“I know this isn’t the most romantic time or place, and I don’t even have a ring. But standing here in the warm circle of your friends and family, basking in the generosity of your spirit, listening to you empathize
with a criminal and say goodbye to one of your dearest friends, I just see you. I see years of Christmases and birthdays and Sunday family dinners. And I see years of simply being by your side as you go about your wacky way, occasionally stepping in to keep you from harm’s way.”

I felt the tears welling in my eyes.

“I know it’s sudden, but happiness is a sudden feeling. You make me happy, Izzy, and you already know how much I love you. Be my wife?”

I took a moment to scan the faces of my friends and family, and I saw nothing there but encouragement. Or perhaps I was simply projecting my own emotion onto them. Either way, their support reaffirmed what I knew in my heart: that Jack Collins was the man for me.

I slid off my chair so that I was kneeling next to him. I’m sure we looked ridiculous, especially with Packer jumping about and wriggling, trying to get between us. But I just didn’t care.

“Jack Collins,” I whispered, “let’s get
hitched.”

Portobello Tacos with Roasted Pepper and Tomatillo Salsa

Ingredients

4 portobello mushroom caps, stemmed, degilled, and sliced into wide pieces, marinated

Refried beans (canned is fine)

Fresh flour tortillas

Grape tomatoes

Cheddar or Mexican cheese, grated

Sour cream

Tomatillo and roasted pepper salsa

Marinade

¼ c. oil

3 Tbs. orange juice

3 Tbs. lime juice

2 Tbs. tequila

1 tsp. chili powder

1 tsp. kosher salt

1 tsp. sugar

½ tsp. liquid smoke

Combine all of the marinade ingredients in a bowl, toss with the sliced mushrooms. Cover and allow to marinate at room temperature for about an hour. Heat a skillet over medium-high heat. Using a slotted spoon, transfer mushrooms to the skillet and cook, stirring occasionally, until the mushrooms are nicely browned. Meanwhile, heat beans in a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Heat tortillas in the oven or toaster oven until just warm. Create tacos by spreading a spoonful of beans on a tortilla. Top with some sliced mushroom, cheese, tomatoes, sour cream, and a dollop of the brilliant salsa.

Tomatillo Salsa

6 poblano peppers

10 tomatillos, husked and rinsed, patted dry

large bunch of cilantro leaves (¾ c.)

lime juice to taste (probably ¼ c.)

1 heaping Tbs. minced garlic

5–6 green onions, white and light green parts only

1 tsp. kosher salt

½ tsp. sugar

Preheat broiler. Put tomatillos and peppers on a baking sheet and broil until starting to blacken (about 5 minutes per side). Put peppers in a large bowl, cover with plastic, and let steam about 10 minutes. Meanwhile coarsely chop green onions, garlic, cilantro, and tomatillos. Remove peppers and destem, peel, remove seeds, and coarsely chop. Add to the other ingredients, then throw in the salt and sugar. Pulse in a food processor until blended but not pureed.

Annie Knox
is the national bestselling author of the Pet Boutique mysteries, including
Paws for Murder
and
Groomed for Murder
. She doesn’t commit—or solve—murders in her real life, but her passion for animals is one hundred percent true. She’s also a devotee of eighties music, Asian horror films, and reality TV. While Annie is a native Buckeye and has called a half-dozen states home, she and her husband now live a stone’s throw from the courthouse square in a north Texas town in their very own crumbling historic house.