Maple Syrup Mysteries Box Set 1: Books 1-3

  I signed the paperwork and didn’t even ask about a rental since I’d learned last time that no one in Fair Haven ever expected one.

  We were back on our way to the animal shelter within ten minutes. Erik unlocked the door with the key the police still had from their search.

  The entrance of the shelter was small—two chairs and a reception desk. It was too cool inside for me to feel comfortable without a coat, but that seemed to be the norm here. My internal thermostat was set to Virginia temperatures rather than the colder climate of Michigan. I might have to accept that I’d never feel warm again.

  The air smelled faintly of cat litter, damp dog, and disinfectant—three smells I’d take any day over the odor of the garage.

  Erik led the way down one of the two halls that branched off from the entrance.

  “This was Paul’s office.” He opened a door into a room not much bigger than a walk-in closet. Filing cabinets lined the walls. “We’ve already gone through the contents, but without context, everything seemed normal.”

  I nodded and continued after him as he pointed out an even tinier break room with a microwave and mini-fridge and a couple of rooms where prospective pet owners could spend some one-on-one time with the animal they were thinking of bringing home.

  The horseshoe-shaped hallway eventually took us into the kennel area. Erik had been talking nearly constantly since we’d walked in, explaining things he thought might be worth paying attention to during the time I worked here, like the supplies of antibiotics and other drugs that could be skimmed.

  Now he stopped, and his throat worked like he wanted to keep talking but couldn’t.

  It must have been here. This must have been the spot.

  “There were signs of a struggle”—he pointed to the left where there was a hamper of dirty blankets, a washer and dryer, and a silver exam table—“and we found the logbook for the pentobarbital. Their supply is one syringe short. Best guess is this is where it happened.”

  His voice cracked.

  Panic clawed up my own throat. For my parents, emotions were things you had in private where no one could see you. I barely knew how to handle my own, let alone someone else’s, especially someone I’d started to think of as an unshakeable rock.

  He scrubbed a knuckle across his upper lip. “Paul was a good man. When this gets out, people are going to start to talk and wonder what he was into that got him killed. I think that’s what bothers me the most.”

  My lack of experience left me with no idea about the best words to say. In lieu of speaking, I rested a hand on his arm and squeezed.

  He twitched a little, then his gaze dropped down to my hand with an expression like he thought it might bite him. Maybe he’d been talking more to himself than to me and he’d forgotten I was there. That made sense, right? Whatever the reason, that look found the spot inside me that liked to tell me how unworthy I was and poked it. Hard.

  I dropped my hand and stepped back.

  An electronic bell dinged up front.

  The expression on Erik’s face flattened back into the cop mask. “Craig’s early. I’ll have to sneak out the back.”

  Then he was gone, leaving me still mired in a whirlpool of emotions I had no idea how to start swimming out of.

  Craig turned out to be the veterinary technician who worked on staff at the animal hospital, as well as the assistant manager. I would have described him as so average he’d blend into a crowd if it hadn’t been for the large gap between his front teeth. It was so large that I’d thought he was missing a tooth at first.

  I wasn’t sure he completely believed my story that Paul had just hired me and had also given me a key to the shelter so I could wait inside for Craig to arrive and train me. But since he couldn’t prove otherwise, he gave me the tour again. This time, instead of being focused on what might have led to Paul’s death, I learned about how the shelter ran and what my responsibilities would be.

  We started to work on feeding the animals and cleaning the kennels. I tried to give each animal a little attention as well as physical care. A black-and-white kitten in one of the cages tried to climb into my arms as soon as I opened the door. I rubbed her chin and her tiny purr vibrated her entire body. By the end of the first day, I was probably going to want to take at least half of them home with me.

  I carried the kitten’s dishes over to the sink and food containers. “So will Paul be in later today?”

  I tried to keep my voice casual. I didn’t want him to suspect I already knew Paul was dead. A little voice in my head whispered that if he’d had nothing to do with Paul’s death I was being cruel—making him tell me about Paul’s passing—but Erik allowed me to come here for a reason.

  Then again, why would I be asking if Paul would be in? I’d already told him Paul gave me the key so I could wait for Craig inside. “He said something about still needing to put me into the payroll system.”

  That sounded plausible and should also explain why he wouldn’t be able to find any record of me yet.

  Craig had a scoop of dog food halfway to the dish he was holding. “I guess most people wouldn’t have heard yet. Paul passed away this week.”

  I didn’t have to fake the sadness on my face. I let what was naturally inside flow out. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know how much I’m allowed to say, but the police think someone killed him.”

  I turned my mouth into an O and catalogued that fact that he’d hinted at knowing more than he was possibly able to say. It was a classic phrase for people who wanted to make themselves sound important.

  I replaced the kitten’s dishes. The kitten finished off the row I’d been working on. Craig was already halfway through the next row, so I moved over to the large dog kennels along the wall. “That’s awful that someone would do that.”

  I unlatched the first door. The dog inside looked to be nearly 80 pounds of muscle, but he stood low to the ground, with short, powerful legs. Beautiful tan and white markings highlighted his face. As I opened the door, a line of hair stood up on the back of his neck. I hated to think what kind of past treatment would have built that reaction to humans into him.

  I reached for his dishes. Behind me, I could hear Craig’s footsteps headed my way. I wouldn’t push for too much info right now. That’d probably make him suspicion. I did want to try to get an initial read, though. “Why would someone want to hurt Paul? He seemed like such a nice man.”

  A vice-like grip clamped around my arm.

  9

  Craig yanked me backward.

  I lost my footing and tumbled to the floor. My heart raced up into my throat. Holy crap. Was this guy a psycho? I’d barely mentioned Paul.

  He slammed the kennel door shut as the dog rammed into it, teeth bared.

  Heat flared in my cheeks. Apparently I’d gotten more cynical and suspicious than I realized. He hadn’t been attacking me because I asked him about Paul. He’d been saving me from being bitten.

  A small line of sweat trickled down the side of his face, and he cursed. “Didn’t you look at the tag?” He whacked a plastic-coated rectangle hanging from the kennel door and it bounced. “The red dot means biter, remember. You need to open the metal door at the back and wait for them to go outside before you enter the kennel.”

  I’d been so distracted trying to dig for information about Paul that I hadn’t even noticed the tag. And he had told me. Red was for an animal that was aggressive.

  “I’m sorry.” I crawled to my feet, keeping well back from the cage where the dog still snarled at us. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

  The electronic bell sounded from the front.

  Craig sighed. “Why don’t you go take care of that, and I’ll finish back here.”

  I didn’t blame him for not trusting me in the back alone. If he hadn’t been there…I shuddered. Best not to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t been there.

  When I reached the entrance area, a stocky woman in a long dress covered in
orange flowers riffled through a drawer of the front desk. The dress hung on her in a shapeless mass that had to add at least ten pounds to her frame.

  I hesitated at the end of the hall. It’s possible she was another employee or a volunteer, but the schedule I’d seen taped to the wall showed only Craig and Paul on for today. Still, it was possible Craig had called in someone else, knowing Paul was dead.

  “Excuse me.” I stepped up beside her. “May I help you?”

  She straightened calmly, slid the drawer closed, and thrust out her hand. “Bonnie Blythe. I’m so glad to see a fresh face around here.”

  Her actions said I belong, and her words were ambiguous. I still couldn’t tell if she were an employee or not. “Do you work here as well?”

  She fluttered her hands up into the air. “Geez-o-pete, no. Though I’d be good at it if I did. I have a big heart for animals.”

  Okaaay. So that made it sound like she was here to adopt. I pulled open the drawer she’d been fishing through. “Were you looking for an adoption form? I can get you all set up.”

  She made a negative mm-mm sound. “I don’t need to adopt. I’m here because I heard the manager’d finally gone, and I thought maybe whoever took his place would be more helpful.”

  She pulled a picture from her backpack-sized purse and slid it to me along the desk. The image showed Bonnie sitting on a white porch with a fawn-colored Bullmastiff hunkered down next to her feet. The dog wore a blue bowtie around its neck.

  She tapped the photo with her finger. “That’s my Toby. He went missing, and I’ve been coming here every day trying to get someone to help me find him. But that former manager kept telling me they don’t look for missing pets. It don’t seem right to me. If the animal shelter won’t help us find our lost pets, where are we supposed to go?”

  I could only imagine how heartbreaking it must be to lose a pet and not know what to do to find him. The police certainly couldn’t take on the task. “It does seem like it should be something that the shelter helps with.”

  “Exactly.” She threw her hands up in the air. “I knew when I saw you that you’d be one who’d understand. Not like that Paul. Do you know he actually threatened to ban me if I kept ‘pestering’”—she made air quotes around the word—“him?”

  I picked up the picture of Toby to buy myself a little time. Maybe I’d been coming at this wrong. If you wanted to find out the truth about a person, sometimes you needed to talk to someone who disliked them. Their friends would often try to protect their memory. Hadn’t Erik said as much? He couldn’t stand the idea that people would be assuming the worst about Paul.

  But we all had secrets, and an enemy would be all too happy to speak ill of the dead.

  Not that this woman was necessarily an enemy, but there didn’t seem to be any love between them either.

  “Nicole? What’s taking so long up here?”

  I turned around. Craig stood at the end of the hallway, an annoyed expression on his face. I wasn’t winning any brownie points with him today. First I’d nearly gotten myself attacked by a dog because I wasn’t paying attention, and now he likely thought I was wasting time chatting while he did all the hard work.

  I held the picture of Toby out toward him. “Ms. Blythe came in to see if we might have heard anything about her dog. I was helping her.”

  Then I noticed his annoyed expression was directed more at Bonnie than at me. “Paul told you we’d call if we found out anything about Toby.”

  Bonnie took a step forward, her hands outstretched. “Yes, but—”

  “Now’s really not a good time, Bonnie.”

  Her face twisted in a mixture of anger and hurt, like someone deciding whether to break into tears or throw a punch.

  I gritted my teeth so hard pain spiraled up my jaw line. I could see how Bonnie’s chatty nature and…persistence could grate on people, but she was still a person with feelings, and he was doing to her exactly what had upset her so much in the past.

  A slew of scathing rebukes for Craig ran through my mind, but I drew in a calming breath. Craig was probably grieving and under a lot of stress right now, trying to fill Paul’s role. Plus, there’d been a hint of an ego in our conversation earlier, which meant that if I stood up to him, he might well “fire” me. I couldn’t afford to lose this job before I’d found out anything useful to Erik.

  Craig had crossed his arms over his chest, and Bonnie was sliding her photo of Toby back into her purse, her shoulders hunched but her eyes shooting laser darts at Craig.

  There had to be some solution here. Was there a spot where what they both wanted intersected? “I was actually thinking I could help set up a better system to locate lost pets that wouldn’t take up the shelter’s time.”

  “Not on paid time,” Craig said.

  Despite his rescue of me, the man was making it really hard to like him. “No, on my own time.”

  Bonnie spun me around and crushed me into a hug that smelled like talcum powder and lilies. She held me so tight that if I’d been a few inches shorter, she might have smothered me in her bosom. Behind me, Craig mumbled something about hurry up because we had a lot of work to do and that he’d be waiting for me in the back.

  He might not have actually mumbled. My ears might have just been blocked by Bonnie.

  When she finally let me go, I stumbled back a step.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” she gushed.

  I moved back in case she decided to grab me up again. “Are there many others who are in the same position who might be willing to join us?”

  She hugged her purse as if she still needed to clutch something to her. “A bunch of dogs went missing this year right before tourist season.”

  “So had the former manager put anything in place to help that we could build on?”

  She fluttered her hands again, reminding me a bit of a bird trying to take flight. “He kept a file of pets reported missing so he could check when any new animals come in, but that was it.”

  That wasn’t much. It still meant no one was looking for the lost pets. I didn’t have any good solutions yet, but I did like a good problem to solve. “Why don’t we set up a meeting where we could all brainstorm ideas?”

  And where I could casually ask more questions about Paul.

  Bonnie dug around in her purse, bringing it up to her face like she might stick her whole head inside. “Just let me find an ink pen to write down your phone number.”

  The rest of the morning was, thankfully, uneventful, but Craig also avoided me, assigning me to unpacking creates of donated blankets and canned cat food and then checking the expiration dates on all the food on the shelves. It wasn’t exactly what I’d envisioned when I’d offered to work here, and it gave me no opportunity to make any progress on Paul’s murder.

  Sometime around noon, Craig knocked on the edge of the wooden shelf next to where I was shoving new cans of food as far back as possible. I jumped and banged my head off the shelf above. I stumbled backward and rubbed the insta-bump on my skull.

  Craig actually cracked a smile at me. “I’m getting the idea that you’re just clumsy overall.”

  If that was his olive branch, I’d take it, even if it was a bit of a backhanded compliment. I needed him to warm up to me. “You could say that. I trip over imaginary things sometimes. The bruises are still real.”

  His smile warmed up a touch more. “It’s time to walk some of the dogs. Want to join?”

  The cold air would probably help the ringing in my ears. I grabbed the old coat of Uncle Stan’s that I’d brought with me from the closet. The coat was plaid and much too big for me, but it was better than trying to brave the cold in one of my spring jackets. I should ask Erik about getting my coat back, but the idea of wearing a coat I’d left lying over a dead man made me queasy.

  “Pick one with a green dot,” Craig said while he slid on his own coat. “The more we can work with the adoptable ones, the better their chances of finding a home.”

  I walked
along the rows, giving a wide berth to the kennel of the dog who’d wanted to eat me that morning. Growing up, since my parents wouldn’t let me have a pet, I’d read everything I could find on animals, cats and dogs in particular. At the time I was living vicariously through fantasy, but now bits of what I’d studied were coming back to me and making it fun to try to guess what breeds might be mixed up in each of the dogs.

  I stopped at the end. A black-and-white ball lay curled up in the corner. I knelt down and the puppy inside lifted her head. A Great Dane by the looks of her. Danes had been my favorite dogs since I’d seen my first Scooby-Doo cartoon.

  I reached for the latch and stopped. I’d almost forgotten to check the dot color again. I flipped the tag holder on the door, but it was blank. No information at all and no dot.

  “Craig?”

  He came around the corner, two tattered leashes dangling from his hand.

  I pointed at the kennel. “This one’s not color-coded yet.”

  He sighed. “I meant to have you enter her into the system this morning, then forgot with the Bonnie intrusion. She must have come in late the day Paul died and he didn’t have a chance to…” He threw a leash at me. “Pick a different one and we’ll deal with her later.”

  I missed the leash and had to scoop it up off the floor. I bit my cheek to keep from back-talking. If I were a cat, I’d be on my last life with Craig, and he struck me as the kind of man whose ego needed stroking if I wanted to get along with him. He’d perked right up when I’d been self-deprecating.

  I opened the kennel of a dog whose wavy, reddish fur made her look like she had some Irish setter in her. She pranced along beside me, and we followed Craig and a terrier-like dog out the back door.

  “Thank you for being so patient with me today.” I offered the Setter enough slack to sniff around, but not enough to get her into trouble with the Terrier. “The shelter is lucky to have you to replace Paul. I bet they’ll make you manager. I’m actually surprised you weren’t already.”

  He leveled a flat gaze at me. “You’re not my type.”