GONE TO THE DOGS by Fiona Grace

Author:Fiona Grace [Grace, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-08-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN: MARGO

It was 2:17 PM when Margo was finally able to download the security footage from the dog show venue. Henry had come through again, and that hard work had paid off with a downloadable file straight to her email. Now, when she made her way into her ergonomic chair and adjusted her computer screen to eliminate computer glare, Margo felt that same tension, that tightening between her shoulder blades, which always arrived just now, when she was about to find “it,” whatever “it” was, in the numbers. Except this time, she wasn’t looking for accounting discrepancies; she was searching for a killer.

Evie had said that Asher Holloway was shady—now it was time to see if he had shown up close to Seraphina before her death.

The tiny office buzzed with her computer fan’s soft whir. Beyond her window, the late afternoon sun threw long shadows across the parking lot. It was a small room, but it served its purpose, and it had barely enough space for her desk, a filing cabinet and a little table where Grace sometimes left goodies and notes with hopeful messages about “brain food.”

Margo sipped her now-room-temperature coffee and clicked on the video file. The footage was remarkably clear for security video—another minor miracle she owed to Henry.

“Okay,” she said to herself, opening a blank document next to the video player. “Let’s see what you’ve kept hidden, Mr. Holloway.”

Margo started watching. The camera had panned down the hallways leading to Seraphina’s office, which were scrupulously empty at first before a distant figure—unmistakably Holloway, with his leather jacket and swaggering walk—appeared. Margo pursed her lips and leaned in, eyes fixed on the video feed as he knocked on Seraphina’s door, but received no answer.

This would have been after the clicker argument…

He walked off with a tight, even angry look on his face and the stiff gait of someone who was holding themselves in, hands clenched at his sides. Margo noted: “Subject seems agitated after attempted meeting.” Agitation still wasn’t murder, and the timing suited his account well enough.

Margo kept watching, tracking Holloway’s movements through the venue’s main floor. She fast-forwarded through the next 20 minutes of footage, logging the normal flow of staff and competitors getting ready for the show. Nothing out of the ordinary drew her attention until—

"Wait a minute." She paused the playback, rewound fifteen seconds, and slowed the speed to half. While Asher was out on the main floor, William Elsher made his entrance there and paced toward Seraphina's office through the hallway.

Margo's pulse quickened. Elsher had been to the hallway around the time of Seraphina's death.

Seraphina watched Elsher stop at her door, look both ways up and down the corridor. Margo remembered a pointer dog seizing on prey—his posture was alert, tense, calculating. He glanced at his watch, then at his phone, then around again, before moving to Seraphina’s door. He did not knock but rather tried the handle.

“That’s interesting,” Margo said, leaning closer to the screen. "Very interesting."

She took copious notes, then carried on watching as Elsher disappeared into the office.

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