Did you miss Chapter One?
Did you miss Chapter Two?
Did you miss part one of Chapter Three?
From Murder at Yappy Hour
Chapter Three Continued…
“Jen said she was going to send an ambulance. Maybe they can give
her oxygen or something when they get here,” Yolanda said.
I raised my head. “I’m fine.”
Yolanda’s hand fluttered to her chest. “No, you’re not. We’ve had a
big shock and you nearly passed out.”
I glanced at Officer Brooks and caught him studying me. I self
consciously smoothed down my wet hair.
A smile played around his eyes, and he said, “You’re Rachel’s
sister?”
I nodded.
“Where is she?” he asked. “Have you called her and told her about
Dan?”
I swallowed past the dry spot in my throat. “No,” I muttered.
He nodded. “Okay, good. Let’s keep it that way for a bit. This is a
small town and I want to be able to control the information for as
long as I can.” He gave Yolanda a meaningful look. “Let me notify the
next of kin before word gets out, okay?”
Yolanda stroked her collarbone, a strange expression on her face.
As if she didn’t know whether she should be offended at being called
the town gossip or take it as a compliment. She seemed to decide on
taking it as a compliment, because she reached out and squeezed
Officer Macho’s forearm. “You can count on me,” she said.
I stood and crossed behind the bar, hoping to put some distance
between them and myself. “I’m going to pour myself a drink now.”
Officer Brooks raised a hand. “Hold on. I’m going to have to ask
you not to touch anything back there. This is a crime scene.”
“Oh! I already poured one for her,” Yolanda said, managing to look
contrite while batting her eyelashes at him.
I picked up the half-full brandy and raised it toward her.
“Thank you.” I smiled at Officer Brooks. “Drinking a bit of brandy
is not against the law, is it?”
Officer Brooks’s eyes narrowed in response.
Beepo came around to the back of the bar. I expected him to snarl
at me, but instead he sat down on his hind legs and watched me.
“So, where did you say Rachel was?” Officer Brooks asked.
I sipped the brandy, enjoying the smooth burn down my throat.
“Uh,” I hesitated. “She’s out of town. I’m in charge of the bar. Um.
Until she returns.”
Officer Brooks frowned, and for a moment he looked like he was
going to say something but then seemed to think better of it and
simply nodded. He walked toward the body and asked, “Did either of
you touch him?”
“Oh no, I didn’t touch him. Why would I touch him?” Yolanda
squawked.
Beepo’s triangle-shaped ears perked up when he heard Yolanda
and he immediately got up and moved out from behind the bar to go
to her. I looked at the spot he’d left vacant. The Meat and Greet bag
had been torn into and lay in shreds on the floor.
Figures the dog took advantage of our distraction and had himself a killer
meal.
“Did you touch the body, Maggie?” Officer Brooks asked. “I did. I
took his pulse,” I said.
“Oh! Yes, poor thing! You did! That’s probably what sent you right
over the edge,” Yolanda said.
“Did you move him at all?” Officer Brooks asked.
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“Uh . . . I just lifted his arm to try and take the pulse, that’s all,” I
said.
Officer Brooks looked from the body to me. His eyes held mine
for a moment, then I broke the connection and sipped the brandy.
“And I closed his eyes,” I said. “They were open. He had a dead, you
know, a dead glazed look.” I sighed and shrugged.
Officer Brooks nodded. “Uh huh. What about the wine bottle?
Anyone touch that?”
Yolanda and I exchanged looks. “No,” she said. “I didn’t touch it.”
I eyed her cautiously, a chill raising goosebumps on my arms. I
hadn’t seen her touch the bottle, that much was true, but she’d been
standing over the body when I got here. She’d said the back door had
been open. Why would both the back and the front door be left
unlocked? It made no sense.
And what exactly had she said to Officer Brooks while I was trying
to wash away past sins in the bathroom?
I realized that Officer Brooks was waiting for my response. “I
didn’t touch it, either,” I said.
The front door opened and a wiry man wearing spectacles popped
his head inside. “Got a call from dispatch,” he said.
Officer Brooks waved him in. “Come on in, Henry.”
Henry was wearing coveralls, but he had such a young, fresh-faced
boyish look that it was difficult to think of him as a crime scene tech.
He nodded toward Yolanda and me, while he crossed the length of the
bar toward the body.
“I’m going to cordon off the bar,” Officer Brooks said as he
motioned to Yolanda and me to follow him out the door.
“Wait! What do you mean cordon off the bar? I’m supposed to
open in—” I glanced at my watch.
Crap! Almost 5:00 p.m. Yappy Hour!
“No, no. Bar is closed for tonight.” Officer Brooks held open the
front door and peered out into the street. “Oh, good. Backup.” He
turned to us. “Ladies, I’ll need you to give your statements to Officer
Ellington.”
I couldn’t leave. I still had to the get the paper out of his pocket.
Yolanda picked up Beepo and marched toward the front door.
“Remember, please don’t say anything about Dan yet,” Officer
Brooks warned Yolanda. “We need to notify the next of kin first.”
“Mum’s the word,” Yolanda said, making a dramatic gesture of
covering her mouth with her forefinger, then waggling it at Officer
Hottie-Pants.
Henry was getting busy with the body, taking pictures and
measurements and all sorts of things.
Officer Brooks quirked an eyebrow at me, no doubt wondering
why I wasn’t beating feet right out the door.
“How long do I have to stay closed for?” I asked, stalling for time.
“We’ll be out of here tonight. You should be able to open tomorrow.
Leave me your number.” He smiled slowly. “I’ll call you.”
Just hearing the words, “I’ll call you,” coming out of his sexy mouth
gave me a thrill, but I reminded myself that he wasn’t inviting me out
to dinner.
I grabbed a Post-it pad from near the cash register, carefully
avoiding the bowl of Bark Bites that was nestled next to it, and scrib‐
bled my cell phone number down. As I shuffled around the bar, a
clamoring ruckus sounded from the street.
Officer Brooks stepped into the doorway and peered out. His back
was to me, his attention momentarily distracted, and the dreaded
paper was poking right out of his back pocket!
Now was the time for action!
I practically dove toward his pants, but restrained myself at the last
moment. I gingerly plucked the paper out of his pocket and replaced it
with the Post-it. He stiffened as he felt me brush against him.
I patted his back pocket and winked. “Yeah, call me.”
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