No Place Like Home - A Camilla Randall Mystery (The Camilla Randall Mysteries) by Allen Anne R

Author:Allen, Anne R. [Allen, Anne R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: anne r allen, camilla, homeless
Publisher: MWiDP
Published: 2012-12-02T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter 47—And Your Little Dog Too

Marvin scooped up Toto, who was still barking like mad, and stepped outside the garage. Doria heard him greet somebody. Maybe two somebodies. A man and a woman.

They sounded like Law Enforcement.

She could hear pretty well through the uninsulated walls and you couldn't mistake that flat, "just the facts ma'am" tone of voice.

Marvin was apparently offering some sort of identification. He said he was a neighbor, which seemed to satisfy.

He then launched into a clever, elaborate story about how his dog had run away and he'd come looking here because Harry always fed the little guy scraps from his barbeques, so this is where he'd always run.

"Harry loved his barbeque. Ironic, under the circumstances, isn't it? And tragic, of course."

Law Enforcement showed no signs of amusement that Doria could hear. But Marvin went on.

"Poor little dog didn't know about Harry's passing. Or that Harry was a crook. He seemed like a nice, neighborly fellow—and a generous host. Who knew?"

Marvin sounded fairly convincing.

The woman asked what the dog's name was.

"Toto," Marvin said, without missing a beat. Odd. Doria didn't remember telling him the dog's name. "Doesn't he look like Toto in the Wizard of Oz?"

"Not even a little bit," the woman said. "I've seen sewer rats cuter than that thing. Listen, this is a crime scene. We don't have the manpower to police it night and day, but the Feds are going to be here any time now, so you want to do us a favor and not get yourself arrested? It's gonna be paperwork for us and not much fun for you. Okay?"

"Absolutely," Marvin said. "I'm out of here. That's my truck over there."

Doria heard the three of them crunch away.

Then the start of a car engine. And a truck's.

Marvin was abandoning her. He'd even taken Toto. And the FBI were on their way.

End of the line.

She was going to have to turn herself in.

Time to get ready for her close-up. She tried to button her suit jacket to hide the blood on the blouse and trousers, found a hairbrush in the purse to yank through her hair, then pulled out the compact. At that point, she nearly lost it. The creature in the mirror looked ten years older than the person who went in for the damned tummy tuck four days ago. And her gray roots made her look as if she had a bald spot where her hair was parted.

No wonder Lucky and Bucky thought she was senile.

With Betsy's make-up and some back-combing, she tried to do something to make herself look less like an Alzheimer's patient on walkabout. Unfortunately, it mostly made her look like a superannuated hooker.

But it would have to do. The FBI probably wouldn't care.

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