Three Dog Day (19 page)

Mae looked around her kitchen with a critical eye. It was messy, but what her grandmother had always called ‘a quick flish' soon took care of that. Mae continued through her main floor with Tallulah and the Tater on her heels, picking up dog toys, books, and random bridal magazines Tammy had bestowed upon her. Finally, when order was restored, she dashed out to the barn to check on her boarding dogs. She brought her three foster puppies back into the house, after giving them a moment to play in the cold grass.

Titan, her male Welsh corgi, was dozing on his favorite rug in the kitchen. When she came in with three excited puppies, he gave a weary sigh and hauled himself to his feet. True, Guinness, and Pearl converged upon him with glee. Titan uttered a low growl and Mae gave him a stern look. “Stop that, Titan. Go to your room if you can't be nice.” She pointed to the laundry room and he trotted off. Mae watched him go in and lie on the big dog bed where her other two dogs were already curled up. “Good boy,” she told him and closed the laundry room door.

“
C'mon, puppies.” She walked down the hallway toward her studio, and all three of them ran after her. When she stopped at the doorway, they ran on into the mostly empty room where Mae worked on her landscapes if she ever got a free moment. There was a blank canvas on the easel at the moment—the painting she planned on starting before breaking her wrist.

Mae closed the bottom half of the Dutch door and watched the pups run around, chew on the legs of her wooden easel and sniff everything. They started to lose steam, slowing down until they eventually came to a stop, looking up at her and wagging their tails. “I'll be right back,” she told their alert little faces and bright eyes. She got an old soft blanket out of the linen closet in the hall and dropped it over the half-door and onto the wooden floor of the studio. “Feel free to tussle or nap,” she told them. “I'm going to go freshen up and then we're going to be interviewed and filmed.”

Luckily, she had already taken some time with her crazy hair earlier that morning, so Mae only needed a change of clothes and a quick application of mascara and lip gloss to be camera ready. She inspected her teeth in her upstairs bathroom mirror. They were free of food particles, and she thought her off-white sweater was flattering and wouldn't show dog hair. She gave herself a nod of approval and went downstairs to await Carrie Allen, the Channel Three reporter.

Half an hour later, she looked up from one of the ubiquitous bridal magazines at the sound of her doorbell. She glanced at her cellphone; Carrie and her crew were a few minutes early. She got up and opened the door to the reporter and two men, presumably her cameraman and sound tech.

“
Hi, c'mon in. I'm Mae.” She opened the door wide, gesturing them inside.

“
So good of you to let us come on short notice!” the attractive brunette gushed. “I'm Carrie. Oh, you hurt your arm. Are you all right?” Mae nodded as the woman rolled on. “What a wonderful house. Where should we set up?”

Mae stepped back to allow room for the two men and their equipment. Once everyone was inside, she quickly shut the door to keep out the cold. “Thank you. The house is a hundred years old. And the puppies are in my studio right now. You can set up in there if you want. Would you like to see them?”

“
A studio? I thought you ran a kennel, Miss December,” Carrie said, peering around with interest. “No one told me you were a musician.”

Mae laughed, leading the way through the kitchen and toward the puppies. “I do run a kennel, and I'm also a breeder. But it's not a music studio. I'm a painter.” She stopped at the Dutch door. “And those are the little cuties I'm fostering.”

True and Guinness were play fighting on the blanket. Pearl finished piddling in the corner and came running to the door. She sat down and looked up at them with a little yip.

“
How precious,” Carrie cooed. She looked at the cameraman. “Get some footage of them, Doug. Then we'll set up for the interview back in the living room.” The cameraman got to work.

“
Seth, let's start the interview, and you can dub it to run during the puppy footage.” The sound tech nodded and followed Carrie and Mae back to the living room. “Let's you and I sit on the couch, Miss December.”

Mae sat down. “Please call me Mae.” She patted the cushion beside her. “Have a seat.”

Carrie sat down and Seth hooked a small microphone to her collar then stepped back. “I'm here in the lovely, historic home of local dog boarder and breeder Mae December, who, despite her wrist being in a cast, is currently fostering three of the pit bull puppies rescued during an ASPCA raid on a Rosedale puppy mill.”

The cameraman came in and he and Seth moved Mae's coffee table out of the way. Doug began setting up his tripod as Carrie went on, “I know you want to find permanent homes for these puppies, Mae.”

“
Yes, I do. I'm taking care of them until we find them ‘forever' homes.” Mae smiled into the camera that was now in place on the tripod. “They're very sweet, healthy puppies who deserve loving homes. If you're interested, you can contact the ASPCA in Nashville.”

“
That's right,” the reporter said, “and there's no reason to be concerned about the pit bull breed, is there?”

“
Well, these puppies weren't taken from a dog-fighting operation, so they weren't bred to fight.” Mae bit her lip. “But the ASPCA has taken the extra precaution of having all the dogs tested for the so-called ‘warrior-gene.' It's a genetic marker for severe dog aggression. The Vet school helped by doing the blood work for them, and we should know the results soon. All the dogs and puppies that don't carry the gene will be available to go to new homes.”

Carrie Allen glanced at the copy of
Today's
Bride
that Mae had left on the coffee table. “I see. That's very interesting. And are congratulations in order for you and Sheriff Bradley?”

“
Not for us.” Mae shook her head, looking at the camera. “I'm hosting the wedding for two dear friends of mine. Just looking for some ideas.”

“
I'm sorry, Mae.” Carrie Allen didn't look sorry. “Just being a reporter. Speaking of that,” Carrie leaned in closer, staring intently at Mae, “is it true you found another body?”

Mae straightened up and leaned away. She gave the nosy woman her brightest smile. “Well, Carrie, all I can say about that is … ‘no comment.' ”

Carrie Allen's eyebrows went up and she gave a tiny smirk. “Thank you for your time this afternoon, Miss December.” She pulled the microphone off her collar and rose gracefully to her feet, handing it to Seth. “That's a wrap.”

T
he state cops had spotted Jerrod Clifton in Knoxville and transported him to Rosedale. It was around eleven p.m. when they got him in the cell. So far he hadn't asked for an attorney. When the sheriff arrived the following morning, everyone clustered around, wanting to know who was going to participate in the interview and who was going to observe.

“
Wayne and I will do this one,” Ben said. Detective Rob Fuller frowned, but Dory gave a little smirk. Wayne had noticed several sniping interactions between the two of them recently, and he guessed that Dory felt Rob was getting too big for his britches. She was probably pleased he would be relegated to observation for this important interview.

“
George, bring Jerrod Clifton into interrogation please.”

George Phelps walked off to get the probable murderer of the floater Mae had found in the river. He came back shortly, leading a big guy with dark eyes and a clenched jaw. His light brown hair was cut very short, and in build and features he strongly resembled his brother. George had handcuffed Mr. Clifton with his arms behind his body before bringing him in. The previous night, Wayne and Ben had discussed how they were going to conduct the interview. Wayne was going to be bad cop; Ben would be good cop, taking off the handcuffs, getting Clifton coffee and generally lowering his stress level.

“
Deputy, I thought I told you to bring Mr. Clifton in without handcuffs. I'm sorry, Jerrod. Get those off him right now, George,” Ben said, frowning. “Mr. Clifton, can I have my deputy get you come coffee?”

Clifton nodded and George left to get Clifton's coffee. After delivering the coffee, he departed, flipping on the audio capture as he left.

“
Let's start, shall we?” Ben said, pleasantly. “You were read your Miranda rights yesterday, correct?” Jerrod nodded. “Sorry, Mr. Clifton, you need to say aloud that you were read your rights. It's necessary for the audiotape.”

“
I was read my rights,” Clifton said. He seemed calm.

Ben quickly stated the date and time. He continued by saying, “This is Sheriff Ben Bradley and Chief Detective Wayne Nichols. We are interviewing Jerrod Clifton regarding the recent dead body found near his property.”

Clifton's eyes widened.

“
Hand Mr. Clifton the police artist sketch please, Detective.”

Instead of sliding the police sketch down the table to Jerrod Clifton, Wayne produced the grisly ME photos, including some of the man's torso.

“
What the hell?” Clifton said. Wayne watched his expression closely. He wasn't sure, but he thought the dead man could have been a surprise to Clifton. If Jerrod Clifton wasn't the perp, this case was going to be a lot harder to crack.

“
Who is this guy?” Wayne said.

“
It's Web Johnston,” Clifton said. “He's the guy I hired to shut down the puppy mill when I left for Knoxville. He's dead?” Ben and Wayne looked at each other. The victim's ID had been confirmed.

“
Murdered, actually. How long were you in Knoxville, Mr. Clifton?” Ben said pleasantly. “What were you doing there?”

“
Visiting my cousin Jake.”

“
When did you leave town?” Wayne asked.

“
I left January first. I was going to stay a few more days, but your officers brought me here last night.” He sounded belligerent. “They put me in a cell with three other guys, took my shoelaces and all my personal stuff. I had to spend the rest of the night with three slime balls and an overflowing toilet. All I've had to eat was a bologna sandwich that I couldn't stomach because of the stench.” He clenched his teeth.

“
I'm sorry that was necessary, Mr. Clifton,” Ben said soothingly. “But as you can see, this man was murdered and he was found near your property. Given the situation, we needed to talk with you promptly. We take murder extremely seriously. Tell us a bit more about Mr. Johnston and what he was doing for you.”

Jerrod sniffed, rubbed his nose and shot an angry look at Wayne Nichols.

“
Web Johnston worked for me the last two years. I raise pit bull puppies. He sells them for me. He was supposed to get rid of all the dogs before I got back.”

“
How would you describe your relationship with Mr. Johnston?” Ben asked, still calm and composed.

“
We worked together, that's all,” Jerrod said, defensively. “I certainly had no reason to kill the guy.”

“
Let's cut the crap here, Clifton,” Wayne interjected. “This guy was brutally murdered then put into the river, probably from your property. You left town right after you killed him and went to your cousin's place. And family members ….” Wayne trailed off, shrugging his shoulders and looking at Clifton intently.

“
What my colleague is implying here, Mr. Clifton, is that a family member is not usually considered rock solid alibi material. A guy's family might cover for him, you see,” Ben Bradley said with a friendly smile. “Does your cousin live alone?”

Wayne could see Jerrod got the point.

“
He's single, yeah. But I had no reason to kill Web. I needed him to get rid of the dogs.”

“
We talked to your brother. He said you were going to shut down your operation. Why was that?” Wayne asked, with a penetrating stare. “If it was lucrative for you, why have Johnston dispose of your dogs?”

“
I wasn't making as much money lately. And I've got a line on a new business.”

“
Copper sells pretty well these days, doesn't it?” Wayne said. Clifton grimaced, then sniffed again. Wayne made brief eye contact with Sheriff Bradley.

“
Like that pile of copper pipe in your garage, that's probably worth quite a bit,” Ben pointed out, with another pleasant smile.

“
That's for some plumbing I'm doing—gonna put a bathroom in out there. And I didn't kill Web, damn it. I was out of town until last night.”

“
Where did you get those cuts on your arms?” Ben asked, indicating a pattern of scratches. “Did Web Johnston fight back?”

“
Just one of the dogs. I'm telling you guys, I didn't kill him.” Clifton was adamant.

“
There was also a bloody rag and a hunting knife found buried on your property,” Wayne said. “We're going to find your fingerprints on the knife and your DNA all over the rag. Soon as we get a trial scheduled, you're going to be somebody's bitch in Riverbend Maximum Security prison. It will be quite an education.” Wayne smiled like a big cat hovering over its weakened prey.