A Catered Doggie Wedding by Isis Crawford

Author:Isis Crawford [Crawford, Isis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2022-03-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

When Bernie and Libby rounded the corner of Denise’s house, they saw an outsized round metal-rimmed glass table lying sideways across a fallen Weber grill.

“The wind must have opened the umbrella, and that tipped over the table, and then the table fell on the grill,” Libby remarked as she and Bernie picked up the table, closed the umbrella, and righted the Weber, leaving a small mound of black ash on the concrete patio to mark the place the grill had been.

“Sounds like a Rube Goldberg invention or a children’s nursery rhyme,” Bernie commented as she surveyed the yard. It looked to be average size. Maybe twelve by eighteen feet. The back half was taken up by random clumps of overgrown bushes, which Bernie couldn’t identify, and a rusted-out swing set that looked as if it hadn’t been used for a decade, while the front half of the yard was home to a garden shed that was listing to the right. From where she was standing, Bernie could see clumps of moss growing on the shed’s roof. The only decorative touch in the yard was the fairy lights strung along the back of the house, but they weren’t turned on. The backyard was dark. So was the house, except for a light in one of the rooms upstairs.

“It looks as if Denise was going to start a garden,” Libby postulated, alluding to the collection of digging tools leaning against the shed.

“Or bury someone,” Bernie commented as she walked over to the back door and tried the handle. It looked like that kind of place.

The handle didn’t move. The door was locked. As a matter of habit, Bernie studied the windows. She could see that they were old. The frames had grown soft and rotten in places and needed to be replaced. In addition, the white paint on them was peeling off, leaving flecks on the ground. Bernie gently tapped on one of the screens. It wobbled. It had warped, so it no longer fit securely in its track. Easy to remove, Bernie thought as she eyed several windows that were half-open to let a breeze in. No central air. No alarms. Open windows. Why, the house is practically inviting me in, Bernie decided.

She peered through the screens. The dining room was dark, as was the living room, except for two lit lamps on the tables bookending the sofa. She studied the rooms for another moment. She couldn’t detect any movement in either of them or in the kitchen. If this wasn’t the perfect opportunity to take a quick peek inside, she didn’t know what was, Bernie thought as she took a step back and turned away.

“No, Bernie,” Libby said, seeing the speculative expression on her sister’s face.

“No, Bernie, what?” her sister asked, all innocence

Libby straightened her shoulders. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No, Libby, I don’t,” Bernie insisted.

Libby put her hands on her hips. “You most certainly do.”

“Don’t you want to make sure Denise is all right?” Bernie asked.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Libby countered.

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