Misalignment and Murder Read online

  “Apollo?” Susannah asked. “How do you know his name is Apollo?”

  “Because I helped name him.” Bitsy gave the hound a squeeze, and he panted. “This here specimen of canine excellence is going to lead us to some clues, while at the same time showing off his insanely cute Sherlock Holmes costume. It’s a couples costume, you know. And I have a matching cape and cap.”

  “He doesn’t seem to like it,” Angie pointed out.

  “Nonsense.” The dog drooled as Bitsy patted him. “He has a slight issue with stress-induced psoriasis. I gave him his medicine right before we left the house. He should be right as rain in a few minutes. Anyway, it’s actually better his skin is covered up. That’s the only way my cousin Kiara would let me take his cone off.”

  Susannah nudged Angie and mouthed don’t ask. To Bitsy, she said, “Okay, tell Apollo to lead on.”

  “That’s not how it works. We have to give him something to scent on.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” Scanning the surrounding area, Bitsy’s shoulders drooped. “Kiara trains him with an item of clothing.”

  “What a cutie. I love animals.” Slinging her shoulder bag across her body, Angie crouched and patted Apollo. “Um, Travis’s funeral is gonna be here soon. Whichever way this is gonna work, let’s get it going.”

  “I think this is a bad idea,” Susannah said, crossing her arms. “We don’t have anything for him to scent on, and Angie and I have looked around. There’s nothing here to find. I think we should just leave.”

  Bitsy pouted. “Just give him five minutes.”

  “Okay, five minutes.”

  They looked down. Apollo was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Bassett Fun Run

  Apollo had made it four rows away and was watering a Civil War–era marker, his deerstalker cap tilted slightly.

  “No, no.” Angie’s hands flew to her face. Hissing as she ran, she signaled to Susannah to follow. “Help me! We can’t let him whiz on a grave. It’s disrespectful.”

  The Basset hound ignored her, finished his business, and loped away.

  “See?” Bitsy joined Angie in pursuit of the Basset. “He’s feeling better already.”

  Treading between headstones, Susannah followed the women. If a dog relieving his bladder on the stone was disrespectful, what would three women tromping right over the graves be? At least they would get marks for dressing appropriately.

  “Apollo, sweetie.” Bitsy made kissy noises. Apollo twisted to face her, his sad brown eyes flicking up.

  Susannah stopped, surprised at how well trained the dog was, but then he gnawed at his costume a few times and took off.

  “He’s not trained to voice commands yet.”

  Apollo climbed an embankment, sniffing the roots of a large oak tree. Beyond it, Susannah noticed an open grave and a man in a black overcoat setting up chairs. “No.”

  Angie followed her gaze, her eyes wide. “He probably smells the soil.”

  Already at the bottom of the oak, Bitsy found her progress slowed by her high heels. The absurdity of the situation struck Susannah. Bitsy in a black dress was a stark contrast against the dying grass and light-colored headstones. Apollo, cape still in place, wagged his tail and headed for the chairs. Apparently his meds had kicked in, and his short, powerful legs carried him along faster than Bitsy could keep up with.

  “Did you see that?” Angie tilted her head.

  “No, what?”

  “That man, on the sidewalk over there.” She pointed in the same direction Susannah had just been gazing. “He was wearing one of those Ghostface masks. I thought he was staring at me.” She shuddered. “Those masks give me the creeps.”

  “Me too.” Susannah stopped. “Ghostface?”

  “Yeah, you know.” Angie’s shoe came loose and she stopped, throwing a twig to the side and fixing her footwear. She looked up, scowling, as if to lecture the oak tree for making life difficult, then turned her gaze to Susannah. “From the movie Scream.”

  “I know. I’ve seen a few of them already this year,” Susannah said. “I’m starting to think it’s not just a coincidence.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I…” Susannah took a breath. It must be her imagination. Where had she seen the Ghostface mask before today? Before she could collect her thoughts, there was a yell from over the embankment. “Maybe one of us should go get the car.”

  “I’ll go.” Angie scrambled out of sight.

  Susannah followed the howling. Holding her shoes out, Bitsy appeared from behind a tree. “I knew Apollo was part bloodhound!” she exclaimed. “He found a gun!”

  “What?” In all her pre-snoop preparation, Susannah had not envisioned finding a gun. “Where?”

  “I already called the police.” Bitsy waved her phone from side to side.

  Susannah was stupefied. As she charged up the grassy knoll, her heel snagged an oak root. She tried to right herself and Bitsy reached out, but she fell, tumbling down the gnarly roots of the tree and landing at the base of a tombstone. Opening her eyes, she found herself face-to-face with an automatic handgun and Apollo’s watery tongue. Apollo huffed loudly, drizzling her with drool, got to his feet, and snatched the pistol in his droopy jaws. Before Susannah could right herself, he trotted off.

  “Take my hand.” Bitsy’s voice quavered, her hand with the high heels shaking. “He’s headed for Travis’s grave. Come on!”

  Susannah stood, tugging her skirt down and brushing off a clod of dirt and some dead leaves. Taking off her shoes, she dashed after Bitsy. The man in the overcoat looked up as Apollo sped past the chairs and stopped at the edge of the grave, sniffing. The Basset dropped the gun into the grave, headed into the pile of excavated soil, and began slewing it into the open hole.

  Fifteen minutes later, Randy was standing with his hands on his gun belt, peering down into the grave. An officer wearing purple latex gloves handed the gun up. Randy gripped the weapon by the stock with two gloved fingers and removed the magazine. Scowling at Susannah, he placed the gun inside a cardboard container and then beckoned her to follow. At the tombstone where Apollo had originally found the gun, he pointed at Bitsy, who leaned against the tombstone while wiggling her toes. “Stay right there.”

  The tombstone was cool as Susannah leaned next to Bitsy and gazed around the cemetery. Past the open grave, the cemetery road looped and ended in a cul-de-sac at the wrought iron fence. A line of limousines and mourners’ vehicles waited for Randy to release the site and allow Travis’s interment to proceed. The dark-tinted window of the lead limousine rolled down, and Crystal glared at them. Susannah felt her face get hot as Crystal continued her South Georgia evil eye jinx. Officer Chaffin, who had been directing the cars and limos, approached the limo’s window and inclined his head as he spoke to her. The curse was broken.

  “Dr. Shine.” Randy’s gruff voice startled her. “Let’s go over this again. This time slower. Why were you here before the funeral?”

  At a loss for words, Susannah felt a drop of sweat trickle from her hairline down her neck. Randy had been at the church and had seen the ruckus with Crystal. Normally her inability to tell convincing lies made these kinds of situations stressful, but a brilliant fib came to her. “Well, given what happened at the church, we decided to come here and wait to pay our respects.”

  “Uh-huh,” Randy commented. “And what does your sister have to do with this sudden discovery of a firearm?”

  “Nothing.” Susannah swallowed. A second trickle of sweat followed the first one. “She was in the Jeep the whole time. She doesn’t even know Travis. She just came to keep me company.”

  Randy turned on Bitsy. “And that’s your story too?”

  “Angie was in the Jeep the whole time,” Bitsy agreed.

  “Are you sure about that?” Randy turned and pointed at Apollo, who had fallen asleep, his Sherlock Holmes deerstalker hat tipped down over one eye. “I thought you made a detour to get the Houn
d of the Baskervilles.”

  “Just for a minute,” said Bitsy. Apollo growled in his sleep, his legs moving as if he were running, and she nudged him with her bare foot. “And I might add, this here dog is a purebred Basset hound.” Bitsy jutted her chin at Randy.

  Susannah made a signal with her hand, telling Bitsy to cut it short, but she didn’t see it. Or if she did, she ignored it.

  “He probably just solved your murder case,” continued Bitsy.

  “Hot dog.” Randy raised an eyebrow at Bitsy, who put her hand on her hip. They had known each other since high school, and Susannah understood why they weren’t friends. “Let’s not get excited about this discovery too soon. Our ballistics team will tell us all about it. Until then, all we know is that we found a pistol.”

  “Hmmpf.” Bitsy folded her arms, her shoes swinging.

  Randy glared at Apollo, his jaw working as if he were pondering a way to arrest the animal. He shifted his gaze to Susannah. “Let me make one thing abundantly clear. If we find so much as a smudge on that gun that points to Angela Rossi, I will personally be knocking on your door to arrest your sister.” Bitsy gasped, and Randy glowered at her. “And you better steer clear of this investigation too. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Aye, aye,” Bitsy mumbled.

  “Now get away from my crime scene and take Mr. Holmes with you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Frittata For Five

  Spearing a potato with the tip of her fork, Susannah went tine-to-tine with Bitsy to finish the remnants of Angie’s Italian sausage, egg, and potato frittata, always a family favorite. Angie had offered to cook after texting Tina and Larraine to update them on the happenings in the cemetery. They had both jumped at the chance for a late breakfast with Angie at the stove. Naturally, Bitsy had detoured to Susannah’s house with Apollo in tow. Divested of his cape and deerstalker, Apollo lay on the living room carpet, face on his paws, snoring.

  “That was delicious,” Larraine said. “I’ve never had an omelet served on Italian bread before.”

  “Me either.” Clenching a small piece of Italian bread, Tina raised it like she was toasting Angie. “I love the flavors, sausage and garlic and onions with some potato thrown in. Kinda like an Italian version of a Jimmy Dean’s sausage-and-egg breakfast sandwich.”

  “You said it,” Bitsy chimed in. “You should have tried it with the cheese and pasta sauce on top. It’s kinda like a messy pizza-omelet.” She quirked an eyebrow at Angie, who was giving her a playful frown. “Messy in a good way, like meatball hero kinda messy. Ooey-gooey goodness.”

  “Okay.” Larraine aimed her thumb at Tina. “We need to hear more about what all happened this morning. Maggie got into an argument with Crystal—”

  “It was more like a violent game of Frisbee using a Kate Spade handbag,” Bitsy pointed out.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tina’s brown eyes gleamed as she popped the bread into her mouth.

  Using her fork for emphasis, Susannah described the confrontation between Crystal and Maggie, punctuating with a stabbing motion the part where Crystal stomped on Maggie’s bag.

  Larraine crossed her arms, her thin fingers playing with the sleeves of her white cardigan. “That’s very disrespectful.”

  “Madonna mia!” Angie said, pressing her middle and index fingers into her thumb and shaking her hand. “You shoulda seen the two of them. Maggie really provoked Crystal, coming into church all trussed up like a puttana in that dress and those shoes. She’s my hero.”

  “Mine too,” Bitsy said. “She must have superhuman wrist strength from doing all those comb-outs. She slung that handbag like an Olympic boomerang athlete.”

  “Okay, okay,” Tina giggled. “First, there’s no such thing as an Olympic boomerang athlete.”

  “Well, there should be.”

  “Second,” Tina continued, “I think you need to start at the beginning.”

  “Right,” Larraine said, “and don’t leave out the part about the gin you found in the cemetery. I don’t understand that part.”

  “Gin?” Bitsy narrowed her eyes. “We didn’t have no gin in the cemetery.”

  Tina and Larraine looked at each other. Retrieving her phone from her bag, Tina pointed at the screen. “Right here, Apollo found gin by tombstone.”

  Angie chuckled. “Autocorrect. I meant gun.”

  “Gun?” Larraine and Tina said simultaneously.

  “Okay, ladies.” Larraine sat back. “From the top. Slow.”

  The espresso machine gurgled while Angie and Bitsy recapped, from Maggie’s flying feminine protection to Crystal’s cranium getting creased. Bitsy added her quick detour to Cousin Kiara’s to pick up Apollo and his psoriasis medication, leaving the bit about him sniffing out the gun for last.

  Tina beamed. “I think Apollo broke the case.”

  “Could be.” Angie placed a plate of cookies on the table. “What do you think Crystal meant by what she said to Maggie?”

  “What did she say?” Larraine asked.

  “That Travis was using her,” said Susannah. Warming her hands around her demitasse cup, she frowned.

  “That’s terrible,” Tina said. There were murmurs of agreement, and Tina tapped a nail on the table. “I’ve heard Crystal could be cruel, but what did she mean about his business? Not…” She shot a glance to Larraine, and her voice trailed off to a whisper. “Sex?”

  Larraine, holding a butter cookie topped with sprinkles, froze.

  “I’ve been thinking on that,” Bitsy said, “and I imagine it has something to do with that hidey-hole me and Susannah found.”

  “I think so too,” Susannah agreed. “But I can’t figure out what kind of business she meant. Although I have been going over something Doyle Etheridge said the other day.”

  “What did he say, Dr. Shine?” asked Tina.

  “He told me that he grew up down in the Junction and has been hunting in the woods down there his whole life.”

  “Boring,” Angie said. “Is that all?”

  Throwing a dish towel at her sister, Susannah half huffed, half snorted. Angie giggled, but Susannah ignored her. “He said that there are rumors of criminals using the woods down in Tussahaw Junction to hide their activities. Years ago, it was moonshiners, but now he’s heard about drugs and guns.”

  “Could Travis have been mixed up in something like that?” Tina asked.

  “Little Junior did mention those meetings with the county task forces.” Bitsy sat up. “They deal with guns and drugs.”

  “And Maggie told us that Travis was always traipsing around the woods,” Susannah said. “Maybe he was running with some gang.”

  “Well, that would make some kind of sense then.” Larraine’s eyes became unfocused as she thought.

  “I mentioned that hidey-hole to Keith,” Tina said. “He actually got kind of grumpy about it and told me I should mind my own business.”

  “Really?” Susannah blurted before she could stop herself. “That’s not like Keith.”

  “I know.” Shaking her head, Tina twisted her wedding ring. “He seems to have something on his mind lately.”

  “How does all this tie into Gus’s murder?” Larraine asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Angie said. “Remember I told you that Gus offered to change the sights on my Glock? Well, I didn’t ask him to do that.” She kneaded the towel in her fingers. “The more I think about it, the more I get the feeling that he was too interested in that gun.”

  “How do you mean?” Susannah asked.

  “Well, it was always Gus who was bringing up the gun and shooting. He told me he wanted to take me to the range. I remember when I told him that I shot with youse.” Angie paused, laughing as her sister cringed at the Brooklynism. “He got a little annoyed. He really wanted me to go to Travis’s to train.”

  Up until recently, the women had trained together monthly at a county-run range. Susannah had been very impressed by the rigorous safety standards there a
nd didn’t want to use the small range Travis had opened in America’s Finest.

  “Why would he get annoyed?” Larraine asked

  “I’m not sure,” Angie answered slowly, closing her eyes briefly as she collected her thoughts. “At first, I thought maybe he was trying to make a date of it, and I stepped on his plans.”

  “Oooh, a date at the range.” Bitsy rubbed her palms together. “Like one of them zany Marx Brothers movies. You know, A Night at the Opera, A Day at the Range.”

  “A Day at the Races,” Larraine said softly, nibbling on the cookie.

  “Say what?” Bitsy asked.

  “A Day at the Races,” Susannah said loudly. “The movie is called A Day at the Races, not A Day at the Range. Not that it matters.”

  “No, it might not,” Bitsy agreed, “but it just occurs to me that someone else is super interested in guns.”

  “Who?”

  “Crystal.” Picking up a small wedge of toasted corn muffin lying on her plate, Bitsy popped it into her mouth. “Remember what she was doing that day at America’s Finest?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “What do you mean?” Tina glanced from Bitsy to Susannah.

  “Crystal was quizzing me about my gun. I thought she was about to pat me down.”

  “Or do a strip search,” Bitsy added

  Susannah thought about it. “Well, Crystal is a bit odd.”

  Bitsy chortled, “That girl is a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”

  Tina covered her mouth; cookie crumbs spilled out from behind her hand.

  “Think about it, Suzie,” Angie said. “There’s something weird about it, is all. I bet you could fit a gun in that deer.”

  Tina’s phone rang, and she glanced at it. “That’s Keith.” She looked at Larraine. “He finally returned my call.”

  “Go on then,” Larraine told Tina as she stood and took a few dishes to the sink. “Keith was gone when Tina got up this morning. She’s been trying to track him down all day.”

  Purse on her lap, Bitsy pulled her Smith & Wesson from its holster and weighed it in her hand.