Bark Twice For Murder by Gayle Susie

Author:Gayle, Susie [Gayle, Susie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cozy Mystery
Published: 2017-01-05T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

* * *

As I drive back toward the pet shop, I consider my options. I figure it would be wise to give Dan Dickey time to make his statement before I bring the torn page of the will to Patty’s attention. I’m not sure what she’ll be able to do with it anyway, since there’s no way to prove that it belongs to Brenda Hanes. And the bronze star Rowdy found might not even be a piece of this puzzle.

I roll to a stop at a red light and a blue mountain bike rolls by through the intersection, with Hammond Dobes on the back of it. He doesn’t notice me sitting there, but at least this time he’s wearing a helmet.

Hmm. Before I give Chief Mayhew new information that might possibly incriminate a man, I figure I should probably make absolutely certain that Ham heard what he thought he heard. He did, after all, hit his head; if there’s any doubt in his mind that the argument wasn’t about money or a will, I’d want to know about it before I present anything to the cops.

I take a left when the light turns green and head toward the Dobes family’s home, a two-story Cape Cod just off of Williams Street. I pull to the curb about a block away and watch as Ham parks his bike in the garage and heads inside. Then I roll to a stop near his driveway and head up the walk.

His mother answers the door. “Will Sullivan,” she says with a smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Hi, Melinda.” Ham’s mother was a senior in high school when I was a freshman. “Is Hammond home?” She arches her eyebrow, so I add, “I saw him in the hospital yesterday when I visited a friend. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.” I figure an explanation might be warranted as to why a thirty-seven-year-old man might come asking after her eighteen-year-old son.

“That is so nice of you, Will.” She steps aside to let me in. “Ham is upstairs. First door on the left at the top of the stairs.”

“Thanks.” I head up the carpeted steps and peer into Ham’s room. He’s not in there, so I step inside and wait. It’s pretty standard for a kid his age; a few movie posters on the walls, a TV and gaming system, clothes on the floor…

And then I notice that the entire wall opposite his bed is covered, practically wallpapered, in photos of Brenda Hanes.

There are pictures of her from magazines. Stills from low-budget indie movies she did when she was younger. Posters from her detective TV show. Photos from red carpet events. He even has a picture of her in her early twenties graduating from the New York School of Acting. “Okay,” I say slowly. “That’s not at all weird.”

I hear a toilet flush from elsewhere in the house, and then a sink running. Something else on the wall catches my eye—a receipt

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