Case of the One-Eyed Tiger Read online

  I took the leash and looked down at my new ward. Sherlock, for his part, had to bend his neck up at almost a 90° angle so he could look all the way up at me. I leaned down to give the dog a quick pat on his head. As if that one act cemented the deal, Sherlock pulled on his leash, clearly anxious to get out of jail.

  “Ready for some lunch?” Harry companionably asked as he followed me back to the clinic’s lobby. Sherlock’s doggy toenails clicked loudly across the concrete floor.

  “You just suckered me into adopting a dog. Where are we supposed to go for lunch? I can’t just leave him in my car.”

  Harry smiled. He took off his white doctor’s coat and draped it over the front counter as he walked by.

  “Good for you. You’re already well on your way to becoming a good dog owner. Never leave your pet unattended in a vehicle.”

  I stared at Harry, wondering what his life experiences must have been like in order to pull him away from a life destined to land him behind bars. He had transformed himself from a dedicated loser to a responsible veterinarian who was now praising me for caring about Sherlock’s well-being.

  “Back in an hour, Laura,” Woody called back to his receptionist. He held the door open for the two of us. “As for lunch, you’d be surprised. This whole town is very pet friendly. I thought we could go to Casa de Joe’s.”

  “Casa de Joe’s? Dude, tell me you made that up.”

  We exited the clinic and stepped out into the bright autumn day. Sherlock came to a stop as the two of us stopped by the side of the street.

  “I shit you not, pal,” Harry laughed, sounding more like the person I knew from school. “They have the best Mexican food in town. Where’d you park?”

  I pointed back towards the other side of town.

  “Down thataway. I’ve been walking everywhere. There’s too many damn people crossing the street wherever they feel like it to risk driving.”

  Harry nodded knowingly.

  “Right. I forgot about the wine festival. It’s the start of Oscar’s night for small wineries around here.”

  “Huh?” I asked, confused.

  “The wine festival is a chance for the local wineries to compete for awards, recognition, that kind of thing,” Harry explained.

  I whistled. “How many could there be in one small town? There can’t be that many, can there?”

  Harry grinned, “Guess.”

  “5.”

  “Higher.”

  “10?”

  “Higher.”

  “15? Come on, man. There’s no way.”

  “Try 24.”

  “I never imagined such a small town could have that many.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Harry said. “You don’t have to own a vineyard to be considered a winery. Many wineries buy their grapes from local farmers. I know quite a few people who have converted their basements into micro-wineries.” He pointed at a soft, pastel blue mini-van. “That baby is mine, right there.”

  I snorted with disbelief, “A minivan? Why not get a truck to haul around your dogs? I assume that’s what you have, right?”

  Harry slid open the passenger door and indicated the passenger seats. There was a child’s seat strapped to each chair.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Harry smiled wildly at me.

  “Nope! I got two kids, man. How about you?”

  “Samantha and I didn’t have any kids,” I quietly answered. A dull ache formed in my chest.

  A very uncharacteristic Harry zeroed in on my somber mood and was instantly apologetic.

  “I’m sorry, bro. What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you at lunch. Speaking of which,” I added, desperate to change the subject, “how is it that the restaurants here don’t mind dogs?”

  “Because most the restaurants on Main Street have open terraces. The rules are more lax there. As long as you stay outside the restaurant owners will allow you to have your dog on the patio. It’s the new hip thing. They’re calling those terraces ‘pet friendly’. You’re going to have to help him in,” Harry added, looking down at Sherlock, who was looking up at the van and waiting patiently for a ‘paw’ up.

  I leaned down to pick up my dog. Sherlock squirmed in my arms, almost causing me to drop him. As I secured my grip on the wiggling corgi, Sherlock managed to twist completely around. Suddenly his head was even with mine. I saw his jaws open. The tongue came out, and I knew what was coming.

  The corgi planted a single doggie kiss, right across my face. It must have been Sherlock’s way of thanking me for springing him out of jail. I set the appreciative dog in the back of Harry’s van and slid the passenger door shut. I climbed into the passenger seat while wiping doggie drool from my face.

  “He sure has taken to you,” Harry observed. “Sherlock has been kinda standoffish and I was beginning to wonder if he’d ever get adopted. Then you come to town and make a corgi’s dream come true.”

  “I still don’t know about this,” I told my friend as he pulled out into traffic. “I’ve never had to care for a dog before. What’s he eat? How much should I feed him? Where does he sleep? Is he potty trained?”

  “All very good questions,” Harry said. “I’ll write you a list of notes at lunch that’ll cover everything you need to do to properly care for him, okay?”

  I had just pulled the seatbelt across my lap and clicked it into place when Harry pulled off Main Street and into the parking lot at Casa de Joe’s. We had driven all of one block. I left my hand on my seat belt and stared at Harry.

  “Seriously? You drove here when we could have just walked? You know what? I’m pretty sure I’ve already walked by here today. Twice.”

  “You’re not going to want to walk when you leave here,” Harry pointed out. “Besides, I’ll drive you and Sherlock back to your car. Think of your dog. Look how short his legs are. A normal walk for you will be a marathon for him.”

  We exited the van (Sherlock waited patiently to be picked up and set down on the pavement). We walked straight to the open terrace, selected a table, and sat down. Sherlock laid down obediently by my feet, which amazed Harry.

  “Are you sure you’ve never owned a dog before?”

  I nodded my head, “Positive.”

  “He sure seems to like you. Look at that. He’s protecting you. That’s a very encouraging sign, pal.”

  “I still feel like I was set up.”

  Harry shrugged, “That’s because you were. It’s my responsibility to make sure all the dogs that come to my clinic find their forever homes. Sherlock was adopted once before but was given back several days later. I can’t tell you what that does to a dog’s spirit.”

  “Why?” I prompted. “Why was he given back?”

  “Incompatibility. Sherlock didn’t take to the lady of the house. She didn’t like dogs to begin with, but to have Sherlock ignore and disobey her was the final straw, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “It worked out for the best. He has you now.”

  An attractive woman, whom I’m guessing was in her late thirties, approached. Harry’s face broke out into a grin and he quickly stood. He put an arm around the woman’s shoulders and turned to me.

  “Zack, this is my wife, Julie. Julie, this is Zack. Do you remember him?”

  The woman nodded and smiled at me.

  “I sure do. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Zack! Welcome to our neck of the woods.”

  Again? I had met her before? Seeing the look of confusion on my face, Harry intervened.

  “She graduated from the same high school that we did, only a few years later.”

  I still didn’t remember who this person was. Then again, our old high school in Phoenix had over 1,400 students attending classes. There’s no way I could have known them all.

  “It’s okay if you can’t remember,” Julie warmly told me. “It was a long time ago.”

&n
bsp; We all took our seats as the waitress arrived to take our drink order. She left two bowls of tortilla chips and several types of salsa after we placed our orders.

  “So did you two get married right out of school?” I asked, curious to see if Harry had followed in my steps.

  “No,” Harry said. “I should have paid more attention to this pretty girl when we were all students, that’s for sure. Turns out Julie’s father was the local sheriff. On those rare occasions where we had run-ins with the police Julie here made certain my name stayed out of it.”

  I stared incredulously at Harry’s wife.

  “You? You’re the reason Harry stayed out of trouble? How did you pull that off?”

  Julie beamed at me.

  “I had the biggest crush on Harry in high school. As for my father, well, it was easy. I had my dad wrapped around my little finger when I was young. What can I say? I was, and still am, a daddy’s girl. I will admit that there were several times when I had to beg and plead with him to leave poor Harry alone, but in the end it worked out fine.”

  I looked at my friend with a look of bewilderment on my face.

  “You told me she didn’t know about any of the things you did in high school. Obviously she does. I can’t believe you told her about that night at the bowling alley, where we all snuck into the stri- “

  “Ose-clay your ucking-fay outh-may!” Harry cried, practically leaping out of his chair and interrupting me mid-sentence. His face had turned beet red and beads of sweat had started forming on his head.

  Julie winked at me and smiled conspiratorially at her husband.

  “I eak-spay ig-pay atin-lay, oo-tay, ear-day.” Julie reached for a chip and dunked it in the bowl of dark red salsa. She smiled again at me. “I think you and I are going to be good friends, Zack. So are you married? Have any kids?”

  My face told Julie everything she needed to know before I could even open my mouth. She instantly laid a hand over mine and dropped her voice.

  “I’m so sorry. What happened? Can you tell us?”

  “This is a subject I don’t like talking about ‘cause it still hurts, but yeah, I can. Give me a minute.” I sighed and took a long swig of my soda. The waitress walked by and, without breaking stride snatched my glass. “You probably knew her, Harry. Samantha Masters. Do you remember her?”

  Harry’s face lit up.

  “Sure, I remember her. Cute short thing that played the flute in the marching band, right? Didn’t you go out with her a few times?”

  Julie groaned. She moved her hand from mine and placed it over Harry’s. And dug in.

  “Ouch! Jules, what’d you do that for?”

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet? He married his high school sweetheart, am I right?”

  I nodded, “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Julie kept her talons firmly embedded in her husband’s hand and smiled at me.

  “Would you please continue?”

  “Sam and I married right out of school. We were together for so long that I honestly don’t remember what my life was like before her. Anyway, six months ago she was struck head on in a collision with a semi. She died instantly.”

  I heard a whine and looked down at my feet. Sherlock had awoken from his nap and jumped up to put his two front feet on my lap. Wow, that dog had a long body.

  “Why don’t you pick him up,” Harry quietly suggested.

  “What? Why?”

  “Dogs can sense when their humans are in distress. He knows you’re feeling sad. He wants to help.”

  “You’re telling me dogs can sense moods?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Julie agreed. “My family had a yellow lab when I was little that always knew when I was feeling sad. She would never leave my side.”

  I shrugged, hooked my hands under each of Sherlock’s squat muscular front legs, and lifted him to my lap. The dog promptly snugged up against my chest and whimpered. He stretched his neck up to lick the underside of my chin.

  “I cannot believe this is the same dog,” Harry breathed, amazed.

  I must have been a sight. Me, a grown man, pining for my dead wife, and cradling a snuggling corgi to my chest. Sitting across the table was an old friend that I realize I didn’t know that well anymore and that friend’s wife, whom I didn’t know at all.

  I looked down at the corgi. I didn’t know what type of magic Sherlock used on me but, dammit, I did start to feel better. Coincidence?

  “So after the funeral,” I continued, giving Sherlock a couple of scratches behind his ears, “I tried to put my life back together there in Phoenix, but just couldn’t do it. Everything reminded me of her.”

  “You needed a change of scenery,” Julie guessed.

  “I did, yes. Right about that time I was notified that Samantha had a great aunt who had passed away, leaving the two of us her house, estate, and apparently a winery.”

  “Lentari Cellars!” Julie exclaimed. “That’s right! You’re the new owner! They make the best Gewürztraminer.”

  The waitress reappeared and presto, my glass of soda was back.

  “I heard something similar earlier today,” I admitted, grabbing my glass to take another long drink. “Something called ‘Syrah’, whatever that is.”

  Julie nodded, “They do make a great Syrah there, too.”

  “Clearly everybody knows more about wine than I do,” I admitted. “I can’t stand the stuff.”

  “But you own a winery now,” Harry pointed out. “If you’re going to keep the winery then you’d better start learning.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see. So what do you do for work, Julie? Harry hasn’t said.”

  “Harry hasn’t said a lot of things,” she quipped, giving her husband a cryptic smile. “I’m a dispatcher for the PVPD.”

  “Oh, really? That’s very cool. Do you know anything about the murder that happened here?”

  Julie leaned forward.

  “I should say so. I’m the one that dispatched the crime scene investigators out to the gallery and had to listen as they reported in.”

  “Can you tell us anything about it?” I pressed, curious.

  Just then the waitress reappeared and set out plates of food. She also set a large carafe of soda down in front of me since she had noticed that I had all but drained my glass for the second time. I looked around the table. Julie had ordered some type of burrito, Harry had a set of three enormous enchiladas set before him, and I had ordered a traditional tostada. Just for the record, there was no way in hell I was going to be able to finish this thing off. They must have used an entire head of lettuce for my order and somehow found a tortilla the size of a man-hole cover to set it on.

  “I can tell you the investigation is ongoing,” Julie continued once the waitress left. “We’ve been given a number of leads so far, only most haven’t panned out.”

  “And those that have?” Harry asked, around a mouthful of chicken enchilada.

  “They say it was an inside job,” Julie quietly told us as she sliced another piece off her gargantuan burrito. “The tiger hasn’t turned up yet and there are no signs of forced entry, either.”

  “What about the person who was murdered?” I asked. “Could that be the insider? I think I heard somewhere that the assistant was the one who was killed.”

  “Right,” Julie confirmed, nodding. “Her name was Debra Jacobs. My own personal opinion is that she wasn’t the insider, provided this was an inside job.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Harry asked, lowering his voice. “If anyone had the temperament to try and pull something like this off then I’d definitely say it would be her.”

  Julie nodded, “Yes, I’m sure. Zora was the only friend Debra had.”

  “Was she that unsociable?” I said. “Surely there’s a reason in there somewhere.”

  Harry leaned forward and lowered his voice even further.

  “Man, that lady was insanely mean. I swear she
went out of her way to be as rude as possible.”

  “She definitely enjoyed creating drama in other people’s lives,” Julie confirmed. “Put a knife in her hands and she’ll stab you in the back with it and not think twice about it.”

  “Uhh, you mean that figuratively, right?” I stammered, concerned.

  Julie nodded, “Yes. Of course. Debra was no murderer and she’s no thief. I’ll agree she was quite the bitch but she wasn’t a criminal. I once watched her march a lady back to the cashier stand at the supermarket because she overheard how the customer hadn’t been charged for a yogurt.”

  “Wow,” I whistled.

  “You made that up,” Harry accused. My friend was silent for a moment and then suddenly slapped the table, causing Julie and I to jump in our seats. “Hah! I’ve got it. There are mirrors in Zora’s gallery, aren’t there?”

  “Mirrors?” Julie repeated as she turned to her husband with a confused look on her face. “What has that got to do with anything?”

  “I’ll wager she passed by one of them, caught a glimpse of her reflection, and turned herself to stone.”

  I snorted as Julie giggled. She reached across the table to smack Harry on the arm.

  “She was shot, you dork. Besides, don’t speak about the dead like that. It’s rude.”

  Harry held up his hands in surrender. “Yeah, well, you laughed.”

  “You said most leads hadn’t panned out,” I said to Julie, eager to learn more about the crime. “Have there been any that do?”

  Julie nodded. “Just one, I’m afraid.”

  She then gave me an unsettling look. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I demanded. “You can’t possibly think I had anything to do with this. I wasn’t even in town when this happened! At least I don’t think I was. Besides, I’ve never stepped foot inside that gallery.”

  Harry looked at his wife with concern in his eyes.

  “Babe, where are you going with this? Zack didn’t do anything. He doesn’t have any part of this.”

  Julie leaned forward again. Both Harry and I did the same.

  “From what I hear, the detectives found a couple of clues at the gallery. Clues that point to you, Zack.”

  “This is nuts,” I sputtered, growing angry. “What kind of numbnuts does PV have on its force, anyway? No offense to you, Julie.”

  “What could they have possibly found, Jules?” Harry wanted to know. “Zack hasn’t been in town long enough to leave any traces of anything lying around.”

  “They wouldn’t tell me any specifics,” Julie said, dabbing the corner of her mouth with her napkin, “only that they were looking into all available possibilities. The last I heard was that they had one working theory, and I’m sure I heard your name in the same sentence, Zack. I’m sorry.”

  “How would you people even know my name?” I demanded. “I first stepped foot in Pomme Valley earlier today! It’s not like there was an official announcement in the paper, right?”

  Both Harry and Julie were silent. I swore softly to myself.

  “Tell me they didn’t.”

  “Last week,” Harry admitted, grinning sheepishly. “There was an article talking about Lentari Cellars and the new owner. You. There wasn’t much to tell other than you were moving to town and would be here soon.”

  “Who told the paper about me?” I demanded, bewildered. “I certainly didn’t authorize it.”

  “Our recycling guy only comes once every two weeks,” Julie said. “I’m sure we still have our copy of the paper. I’ll get it for you. You definitely bring up a good point.”

  A shadow fell over our table. Sherlock woofed a warning. I looked up to see an older woman decked out in formal business attire. She was wearing a dark gray overcoat (it had to be 70 outside in the sun!), matching gray skirt, and gray pumps with thick two inch heels. Her silver hair was pulled up into a tight bun and she was wearing dark sunglasses. The woman scowled as she stared down her nose at the three of us.

  “Which one of you is Mr. Zachary Anderson?”

  I instantly, and I do mean instantly, disliked this woman. She found my ‘it’s-time-to-be-an-asshole’ button in less than three seconds and expertly pushed it. It had to be a record.

  “Well, it’s certainly not her,” I remarked, hooking a thumb in Julie’s direction. “And it’s not him,” I added, pointing down at Sherlock.

  “Just answer the question,” the woman snapped. “Are you Mr. Anderson?”

  I was reminded of a line from a very popular sci-fi movie. If there had been a female Agent in the Matrix, it would have certainly been this woman. I suppressed a smile as I imagined her ducking bullets in slo-mo.

  “I am. And you are?”

  “Mrs. Abigail Lawson.”

  My eyes narrowed and I frowned. Even though I had never met this woman before, her name wasn’t unfamiliar to me. Several years ago I had spent a lot of time working on our family trees. Samantha and I, that is. This lady was on Great Aunt Bonnie’s side of the tree, I was sure of it.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Lawson,” I coolly replied, refusing to stand. “What can I do for you?”

  Abigail Lawson pulled out a wad of papers from her oversized purse and thrust them at me.

  “You can sign these for me. Right now. Here’s a pen.”

  I refused the pen and continued to stare at the woman, all without taking the proffered papers.

  “What are these for?”

  “Transfer of ownership for Lentari Cellars and the rest of my late mother’s estate. It should never have been left to you. It should have gone to me. Clearly my mother wasn’t in her right mind. You’d be helping me rectify that mistake by signing them. Be quick about it. I wish to leave this tiresome little town just as soon as possible.”

  Harry was pissed. I saw him open his mouth to say something when I cut him off.

  “That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Lawson. I plan on keeping the winery and the estate. Thank you so much for your more than generous offer.”

  “I wasn’t offering to buy it,” Abigail snapped, still holding the papers out to me. “You’re going to do the right thing and sign everything over to its rightful owners. That’s me, now sign it.”

  That’s it. Patience just flew right out the window. In fact, I’m pretty sure it just crashed through the window in order to get away from me as fast as it could.

  “The estate, and everything on it, was left to me and my wife.” I slowly stood, prompting Harry and Julie to do the same. Sherlock woofed another warning. I was also pleased to see Abigail take a step back. After all, I was six feet tall and she was barely 5’4”, even with her heels. Plus, I had to have a good hundred pounds on her. Well, let’s make that seventy-five. “That makes me the rightful heir. With that being said, I am going to honor my late wife by keeping the inheritance. Her inheritance. I feel that it would be important to her. Do you get that, Mrs. Lawson? Does that compute? I don’t know why your mother left everything to Samantha and me but she did. My wife is gone, lady. For some reason fate led me here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Abigail’s eyes shot daggers at me. The papers she was holding were forcibly rammed back into her purse and she stormed off. I glanced down at Sherlock and patted his head affectionately.

  “Good boy. I was about ready to sic you on her.”

  Sherlock wagged the stump of his tail and looked back in the direction Abigail had stormed off. The corgi turned to me and settled back to the ground, content to keep me in his sights. Harry whistled.

  “That was intense. Did you know her?”

  “I had heard of her, only through the family tree I worked on for Samantha’s side, but I have never met her before. I’m sorry you guys had to see that.”

  Julie patted my shoulder.

  “Don’t be. She was a bitch. Anyone could see that. You know what? I think we all
could use a margarita.”

  I laughed. I hadn’t realized how much I missed being in the company of friends. Ever since Samantha’s death I...

  Whoops. Veered again. .

  “Don’t you two have to go back to work?” I asked my new friends, grateful that I had someone to talk to here in town.

  Julie nodded, “You’re right. It probably wouldn’t be good for my career if I showed back up at the station with a buzz.”

  Harry clapped a hand on my other shoulder.

  “Tell you what, pal. Once Julie and I are done why don’t we pick up a pizza and head over to your place? We can help you unpack and show you around. Julie and I have been out to the estates a couple of times and probably know it better than you.”

  I sat back in my chair and smiled.

  “You know what, guys? That sounds like a plan. I apprecia-”

  “Mr. Zack Anderson?” a gruff male voice interrupted from behind me.

  I watched Harry stiffen with surprise. Julie gave a little gasp and clutched her husband’s hand. I groaned. Now what? Had Abigail returned with reinforcements?

  “Yes?” I asked, turning around.

  Two uniformed policemen were standing on the other side of the terrace wall, staring straight at me. Great. That nasty hag must have made a beeline straight for the cops.

  “We’re going to need you to come with us.”

  “Is this about that damn lady?” I scowled and rose to my feet. Sherlock started growling. “Look, I might have lost my cool there for a bit but there was no harm done. Sherlock, easy. They’re just asking questions.”

  One of the cops pulled out a small notebook and made a few notes.

  “So you’re saying the two of you had an altercation? Were there any witnesses?”

  Julie stepped out from behind Harry and approached the two officers.

  “Dave. Mike. Would either of you care to tell me what’s going on?”

  Both officers gave a visible start as they recognized Julie.

  “Jules,” one of them acknowledged. “We didn’t see you there. Do you know Mr. Anderson?”

  “He’s a friend. He and my husband went to school together. What’s going on?”

  “We need to take Mr. Anderson downtown. We have some questions for him.”

  “Questions about what?” I wanted to know.

  “Questions about the murder of Ms. Jacobs. You claim the two of you had an altercation. We’d like to get everything on record, if you don’t mind.”

  My mouth fell open as I gawped like a love-struck teenager.

  “Excuse me? I’ve never met her. I was referring to Abigail Lawson. You know, the grumpy old crone that was just standing here?”

  The policeman with the notebook made another few notes.

  “So you’re saying that you physically assaulted another woman?”

  “I did no such thing!” I protested. “I never assaulted anyone!”

  This definitely wasn’t going well. Being new to town I kinda figured the cops would be calling on me at some point to ask about the poor woman who was killed. They always seem to point the finger at the new guy. I just never imagined that they’d be incompetent morons. It was perfectly reasonable to think they wanted to talk to me about Abigail Lawson. I was certain the grumpy old hag had somehow convinced those two policemen I was guilty of some heinous crime. Speaking of which…

  “Are you accusing me of a crime?”

  “That remains to be seen,” the other officer said, breaking his silence. “There are things that must be explained. Take it easy. You’re not being charged with a crime. Not yet, anyway. Now would you please come with us?”

  Could this day get any worse? I looked down at Sherlock, who chose that time to look up at me.

  “Look, I just adopted a dog. Can I at least take him home first?”

  “Do you have someone there to watch over him?” Harry asked, concerned. “You don’t want to leave a new dog alone in a house by himself. Trust me. I could take him back to his kennel at my office but that’d break his heart. I can’t do that to the poor boy.”

  “Just take the dog with you,” Dave, the first cop, suggested. “The captain loves dogs.”

  I looked at my two friends.

  “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

  Harry nodded, “I hope so, pal.”

  Julie squeezed my hand reassuringly.

  “Everything is going to be fine. We’ll see you tonight.”

  Everything was not going to be fine. In fact, in less than an hour I would be in a jail cell with a dozen inmates. Charged with murder.

  Three