Ruff Justice Read online

  I’d only planned to have a look around Amanda’s apartment. I’d had no intention of going anywhere near Jasmine’s house. But the only place to park was behind the minivan, effectively blocking it in place. Not only that, but I didn’t want whoever was inside Jasmine’s house to think that I was skulking around the property illicitly.

  Unless of course that person was doing the same.

  “You’d better come with me,” I said to Faith. I was thinking that there might be safety in numbers. She was thinking, Yay, an outing! So we were both happy to get out of the car together.

  Not nearly as trusting as the minivan’s owner, I locked the Volvo carefully behind us. As I turned toward the garage, a woman came walking around the corner from the rear of the house.

  She was middle-aged and had a wiry build. Her frizzy brown hair was liberally peppered with strands of gray. At first glance, the most notable thing about the woman was the large, quilt-covered bundle she held cradled in her arms. Then she drew nearer, and I saw that the side of her face was swollen and she appeared to have a black eye.

  Okay, that trumped the bundle thing.

  Gaze trained downward as she made her way across the uneven ground, it took the woman a moment to realize she was no longer alone. Then she stopped so abruptly that the bulky parcel she was carrying shifted in her arms. It slipped from her grasp and started to fall.

  Without thinking, I stepped forward to help. Her glare stopped me in my tracks.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “Melanie Travis.” My tone was slightly more civil, but not much. “Who are you?”

  “Sadie Foster. I’m a friend of Jasmine’s. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

  “Maybe not,” I agreed. I wasn’t about to offer any more information than I had to before I found out why the woman was removing things from Jasmine’s home. “What’s that you’re carrying?”

  “None of your business.”

  Suddenly the heavy bundle shifted again. As Sadie’s hands scrambled for purchase, I leapt forward to grab it before it could drop. For a moment, we both held on. Then she reset her grip and I stepped back.

  “Thank you,” she said grudgingly. “I would have hated for these to hit the ground.”

  Close up, Sadie’s face looked even worse than it had from afar. The delicate skin above her eye was so puffy that the lid was nearly swollen shut. Purple and yellow bruises bloomed along the top of her cheek. The injury looked recent. And painful.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  Sadie blinked, then winced. Even that small movement looked like a mistake. “Yeah, I’m fine. More or less.” She walked past me to the minivan and set the quilt-covered items down on the floor just inside the door. “I tripped over a dog.”

  Faith had started to follow Sadie across the driveway. Now I snapped my fingers and returned her to my side.

  Sadie saw the move and smiled ruefully. “A little dog. Not something big and pretty like your Poodle there. I guess anyone who owns a dog like that can’t be all bad. Maybe we’d better start over.” She walked toward me and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Sadie Foster.”

  Her fingers were callused and her grip was firm. I returned her smile and said, “Melanie Travis. I’m pleased to meet you. And this is Faith.”

  “How do you know Jasmine?” Sadie asked.

  “I show Poodles.” I would have elaborated but Sadie was already nodding. She’d immediately made the connection. “I’ve always thought that Jasmine’s artwork was beautiful.”

  “I guess you know about what happened,” Sadie said.

  “Yes.” There didn’t seem to be any point in mentioning how close I’d actually been to the tragic event.

  “I’ve known Jasmine forever,” Sadie told me. “Someone called me with the news last night and I could hardly believe it. What a shock right out of the blue. Then my next thought was, What about Hazel and Toby? I wondered if anyone was looking out for them.”

  “Hazel and Toby?” I looked around. I hoped they weren’t Jasmine’s children.

  “Jasmine’s two dogs,” Sadie said. “Her fur babies, as she calls them. Hazel and Toby are just a couple of pound puppies, but Jasmine couldn’t have loved them more if they were Best in Show winners. When she left here yesterday morning, I know it never occurred to her that she wouldn’t be back last night to take care of them.”

  “Is that how you fell?” I asked.

  Sadie grimaced. “That was just a stupid thing. It was late and those pups were waiting anxiously for Jasmine to come home, and then I showed up instead. They’ve known me for years, but they still got all skittish for some reason. I had to chase them all around the house before I could even get my hands on them. I slipped in the kitchen and caught my face on the side of a counter.”

  “It was kind of you to come and take care of them,” I said.

  “If I hadn’t done it, nobody else was going to. Jasmine doesn’t have any family that I know of. I couldn’t stand the thought of those two sitting here by themselves all night. I took them home with me and gave them a good meal. They’ll be safe with me for a while anyway.”

  “That was last night,” I said. “Why did you come back today?”

  “I woke up this morning, looked at Hazel and Toby, and thought, What about Jasmine’s paintings? They might not be living creatures, but that art was Jasmine’s life’s work. I couldn’t just leave it sitting here in an empty house either.”

  I gestured toward the bundle in the minivan. “So that’s what’s wrapped inside the quilt?”

  Sadie nodded. “That’s just the first load. There’ll be several more to follow. This stuff is valuable. Who knows, maybe even more so now that Jasmine is gone. I’m going to box it up and store it somewhere out of harm’s way.”

  It was one thing for Sadie to have rescued Jasmine’s dogs, I thought. But taking possession of her artwork was something else entirely. The woman appeared to have made rather a large assumption about what she might be entitled to do.

  “I notice you’re not using the front door,” I said. “How did you get into Jasmine’s house?”

  Sadie peered up at me with a scowl on her face. “Don’t go thinking about anything nefarious now. Everything I’m doing here is on the up-and-up. Jasmine keeps a couple of spare keys on a hook in her garage. Would I know about that if she didn’t want me to look after things in her absence? There’s one key for her house and one for the garage apartment.”

  That sounded all right, I thought. Maybe.

  “That’s Amanda Burke’s apartment,” I said. “She’s actually the reason I’m here. Do you know Amanda?”

  “I guess I’ve met her once or twice. She seems like a nice enough kid. But if you’ve come to see her, you’re out of luck. I’m pretty sure she’s not home.”

  We both lifted our gazes to the apartment’s windows. Everything was dark and still.

  “Amanda’s sister is worried about her,” I said. “She’s been trying to get in touch with her. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”

  “How would I know something like that? I’m not sure I even remembered the girl’s name until you reminded me just now. Wherever she went is no business of mine.”

  “In that case, I’m sorry to have bothered you about it. Faith and I are going to go up and have a look around the apartment.”

  “Oh yeah?” Sadie tipped her head to one side. I knew she was remembering my earlier query. “How do you think you’re going to get in?”

  I supposed I deserved that. I pulled Abby’s key out of my pocket and showed it to her. “This is Amanda’s sister’s key. She’s the one who sent me here.”

  “Sent you to do what?”

  “Try to figure out where Amanda disappeared to.”

  “Disappeared.” Sadie snorted. “Kids come and go all the time these days. Nothing unusual about that. Mark my words, she’ll be back in a day or two, probably wondering what all the fuss was about.”

>   I hoped Sadie was right, but I wasn’t nearly as sure as she was.

  Together Faith and I headed for the narrow wooden staircase that snaked up the outside of the garage wall. At the foot of the steps, I paused and looked back. Sadie was once again on her way around the back of Jasmine’s house. Presumably she was going to pick up another load.

  “Do you have permission to take Jasmine’s paintings?” I asked.

  Sadie stopped and turned. “Think about it. Who would you expect me to get permission from?”

  There was that.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Her family. Maybe her lawyer?”

  “Jasmine’s never mentioned any family to me, but if her relatives show up wanting to pick through her possessions, I’ll bring the stuff back. At least when her art’s with me I know it’s in a safe place. Which is a lot better than the alternative.”

  Sadie nodded toward the upstairs apartment. “You think that young girl has gone missing? I’ll tell you what’s missing. The rest of Jasmine’s paintings.”

  I gazed at her in confusion. “Which paintings are you talking about?”

  “The ones she took with her to the dog show. The ones that were on display in her booth. Jasmine’s a born saleswoman. She always shows off her best stuff at events. Artwork and leashes both. She couldn’t have packed up her own booth last night. So where did all her valuables end up?”

  Good question, I thought. And one more thing to look in to when I got a chance.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, my search of Amanda’s apartment failed to provide me with any answers.

  The only thing Faith and I discovered—obvious as soon as we went inside—was that Amanda Burke was an indifferent housekeeper. Faith didn’t seem too perturbed by that and, frankly, neither was I. It wasn’t my living space that was covered in a layer of dust and badly in need of vacuuming.

  The whole apartment consisted of two small rooms. One was a combination living room/kitchen. The second was a bedroom, just big enough to hold a double bed and narrow, upright dresser. A tiny bathroom was wedged into a corner.

  Amanda’s bed was unmade. There was a pillow on the floor and the bed covers had been kicked to the foot of the mattress. A stack of dirty dishes was piled in the sink. I wondered if I was seeing signs that Amanda had left in a hurry, or simply more evidence of negligent housekeeping skills.

  The only decoration on any of the walls was a vibrant oil painting of two Foxhound puppies, hanging above a threadbare couch. One tricolor pup was playing with a rubber ball. The second was behind it, pudgy body rearing high in the air, ready to pounce. The style of the lovely portrait looked familiar. I wondered if it was one of Jasmine’s. I leaned in and took a closer look, but the canvas wasn’t signed.

  A table in the middle of the room appeared to function as Amanda’s desk. I sifted through the papers that were piled on top of it and found nothing of interest. I peeked beneath several gossip magazines scattered across the couch. I opened the drawers of her dresser and looked underneath the sink. I even checked inside her medicine cabinet.

  My search revealed no cell phone, no computer, no tablet of any kind. Nor did I find a calendar or address book. Surely a woman who ran her own pet-sitting business would have need of both?

  But aside from that omission, nothing struck me as out of the ordinary. If Amanda had packed a bag before leaving, I saw no evidence of it. Her closet and dresser were filled with clothes. A toothbrush sat in a glass next to her bathroom sink. A contact lens case and a bottle of solution were within easy reach.

  There was milk in the refrigerator and three oranges in a bowl on the counter. A book lay open on Amanda’s bedside table. The place looked as though she’d left the previous morning to go to the dog show, with every intention of returning home later that evening.

  Amanda hadn’t needed her car to get to the show, and it was still sitting downstairs parked in front of the garage. Rick told Abby that he’d dropped Amanda back at home last night. But what if he hadn’t?

  Suppose Rick and Amanda started the day on good terms, then argued over something that caused them to go their separate ways? That seemed like a possibility until I realized that if Amanda had been stuck and needed a ride home, she could have asked her sister, or even Aunt Peg. She would surely have known that plenty of other exhibitors would be heading back to Fairfield County.

  My thoughts cycled back to the missing computer. It seemed unlikely that Amanda would have taken it with her to the dog show. Especially as she planned to be gone for less than a day. Was that more proof that she had returned home after the show and then gone out again? But if that was the case, why hadn’t she taken her car?

  Wherever Amanda was, she surely would have had her phone with her. So why wasn’t she taking her sister’s calls? Abby had been trying to reach her for nearly twenty-four hours now. It hardly took any time to recharge a battery—unless Amanda was somewhere she didn’t have access to electricity.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said to Faith. “All I have is questions and not a single answer.”

  The Standard Poodle was sitting by the door waiting for me to finish looking around. She offered a gentle woof in reply. In her world, questions are easy. Her answer is always yes.

  We left the apartment together and I locked the door behind me. We’d been inside for less than half an hour, but the navy blue minivan was gone. Sadie must have finished what she was doing and left.

  Rather than asking me to move the Volvo, it looked as though she’d driven across the lawn to get out. I looked at the ruts she’d left in the soft turf and sighed. It wasn’t as though Jasmine would care.

  I wished I’d thought to ask Sadie for her contact information when we’d been speaking earlier. On the surface, Jasmine Crane’s death had nothing to do with me. I was only trying to figure out why Amanda Burke had disappeared. But I couldn’t help but feel that the two events were inextricably intertwined.

  Chapter 7

  To make up for my extended absence that afternoon, I arrived home with two extra-large pizzas. One had pepperoni and sausage on it, the other was covered with vegetables. By now I’d told myself that the veggie option was healthy so many times that I’d almost begun to believe it.

  “Mommy’s home!” Kev met me in the hallway as I came in from the garage. Faith ran past him to look for the other Poodles. “I missed you.”

  A sentiment sure to warm a mother’s heart.

  My son’s next words rose on a wail. “You were supposed to bring my project to school when you picked me up!”

  Damn. I’d forgotten all about that.

  Kevin’s preschool class was building a six-inch-tall chess set on which they were going to learn to play the game. Every student was expected to contribute two pieces. The previous Friday, Kevin and I had constructed a rook and a bishop out of papier-mâché. On Saturday while Sam and Davey had been bathing Augie, we’d painted both pieces a glossy black. They were supposed to have been delivered this afternoon.

  “Do I smell pizza?” Sam came into the hall.

  Bud was hot on his heels. The little dog had been half-starved when we’d picked him up after he was tossed from a car. Though there was no shortage of food in his life now, Bud was always ready to eat. He probably smelled the pizza too.

  I sent Sam a beseeching look. “Please tell me you stepped in and saved the day.”

  “I saved the day,” Sam replied automatically. It was clear he had no idea what I was talking about. “At least I hope I did.”

  “Kevin’s chess pieces. Did you take them to school?”

  “Daddy to the rescue,” Kevin crowed happily.

  I guess that answered my question.

  “I saw them sitting on the kitchen counter and figured they were supposed to go somewhere,” Sam said. “So I put them in the car. It’s probably just dumb luck that they ended up in the right place. What kind of preschool gives kids homework anyway?”

  I shrugged. “The same kind that expects
them to learn chess?”

  That was life in Fairfield County. We weren’t just in the fast lane, we were in the rocket zone. The only reason Kevin wasn’t already half fluent in Mandarin was because I’d opted out of a neighborhood learning group when he was three. The other mothers told me that Kevin would blame me later for limiting his prospects in life. Seriously?

  All I knew was that I wanted to raise smart, respectful, happy children. And that I was tired of being pressured to keep my boys perpetually ahead of the curve. I had a sneaking suspicion that someday that darn curve was going to turn around and bite us all in the butt.

  Davey set the table. Sam threw together a salad. As we sat down to eat, four Standard Poodles materialized in the kitchen to join Bud around the table.

  Faith and Eve sacked out on the floor. Augie lay beneath Davey’s chair. Raven and Bud went to Kevin. Even without looking, I would have been able to guess who was missing.

  “Davey, where’s Tar?”

  “How should I know?” Davey was sliding a piece of pizza out of the box onto his plate. When silence greeted that remark, he stopped and glanced up. “Sorry. I’ll go look.”

  “No, you guys start eating. I’ll go.” I rose from my seat.

  “Tar’s upstairs in the bathroom,” Kevin said, munching happily on a green pepper. “I closed the door.”

  All heads turned his way.

  “Why would you do that?” I asked.

  “Tar’s all wet.”

  “All what?” I must have misheard. Already on my way to the stairs, I spun back around.

  “Tar had a bath,” Kevin informed me.

  I looked at Sam. Sam looked back at me. We appeared to be equally baffled.

  What was wrong with that picture? I’d been out all afternoon. So there was a good reason why I had no idea what had been going on in my house. Sam, however, was supposed to have been in charge.

  “Who gave Tar a bath?” Sam choked out the words. Belatedly he was realizing that he’d missed something important.