Молли Фитц - Terrier Transgressions

“Okay. Now stand up,” I instructed, taking a big step back to give him space.

Charles did without saying anything. I could tell he was intrigued and also wanted to see where this was going.

“How tall was Bill?” I asked as I motioned for my colleague to turn around so that I could study his back from behind.

“About five foot ten,” he answered after a brief moment’s thought.

“And how tall are you?”

“Six feet even.”

“Now how tall is Brock?”

“Six-four.”

I kept all these numbers in my head, adding my height of five foot seven to the mix as I brought my makeshift murder weapon up and down on each of the sticky notes. I caught each shot with the camera on my phone.

“Okay. You can turn around now.” I made a quick trip to the app store to download a measuring app while I explained the next steps to Charles. “Brock is six inches taller than Bill. So now we’re going to make me six inches taller than you. Can you crouch to about yea- high?”

I drew the phone from the floor to about my shoulder height and held it there while Charles got into position. He was a bit shaky as I redid my measurements and snapped pictures of each.

“Now check these out with me,” I said, helping him back to his feet so we could both examine the six new photos on my phone. “These first three photos are from when we were both at our normal height, and the next three are from us recreating the height difference between Bill and Brock. What do you notice?”

Charles grabbed the phone from me excitedly and flipped back and forth reviewing each photo several times, then we placed my phone onto the floor next to the crime scene photos of Bill. He looked from the walls where I’d traced the path of the blood splatter and back to the pictures.

“Given the angle of the blood splatter and placement of the wounds, the first pictures look much more accurate.”

I nodded. “If Brock had landed these blows on Bill, he would have needed to angle his wrists awkwardly like this and taken a wide, golf-like swing. It would have been much more natural—and more effective—to hit him from above.”

“So you think someone shorter committed the crime?”

“I do, but let’s recreate Ruth’s death before deciding for sure.”

We went through all the same motions again, with me playing the victim this time. Ruth had only needed one blow to go down and it was directly to the top of her skull.

“See,” I told Charles as we were going through the resulting photos. “Why would the murderer hit Ruth over the top of the head and not Bill?”

“Because he couldn’t reach on Bill,” Charles answered excitedly.

I nodded, happy to see that my companion both understood and supported my theory. “Actually, I’m pretty sure the culprit is a she. Or a very short man. In any case, it’s not Brock.”

“So we’re looking for someone about…” His eyes found and held mine.

“My height, yup,” I confirmed.

Charles grabbed the discovery folder and flipped through it quickly, mumbling the names of each witness and person of interest as he went. “It couldn’t be Brock. Also couldn’t be Bill’s boss. Both are too tall.”

I already knew exactly who this new evidence implicated, but I needed Charles to arrive there on his own.

“Almost everyone is either too tall or too short to be considered,” he murmured while stashing the folder back in his bag.

“We know at least one person related to this case who’s exactly my height,” I pointed out.

“Breanne,” Charles said with a sigh. “I was afraid of that.”

A series of footsteps stomped up the staircase, causing us to share a horrified expression. We knew exactly who had come to find us now.

“Okay, time’s up!” Breanne called, charging angrily into the room and growing even more livid when she found Charles and me sitting on the closet floor with the crime scene photos and a matching pair of guilty expressions on our faces.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, placing a hand on each hip. “And where are your animals?”

Uh-oh. This was not good. Not good at all.

Chapter Thirteen

I bolted out of that room so fast, Breanne couldn’t have stopped me if she’d tried. Maybe I was being a bit overdramatic, but I didn’t feel like being trapped in the same small, enclosed space with a possible killer. Her arrival also reminded me that I hadn’t heard from the animals in quite some time, and I had no idea whether they’d somehow managed to escape outside.

Luckily, I found Octo-Cat almost right away. He stood on top of the fridge with his fur puffed up and his expression angry. Yo-Yo whined and stood on his hind legs scratching the surface of the refrigerator in his desperation to reach the cat.

“Why did you abandon me?” Octo-Cat raged.

I put my hands up in surrender. “Hey, you’re the one who left in the middle of our investigation. You could have come back at any time.”

“Not with Dum-Dum cornering me here,” he ground out.

I knew he was irritated, but so was I. He was supposed to be finding a way to connect with our doggie witness, and that clearly had not happened.

“So, I’m guessing you did nothing useful this whole time?” I asked with a frustrated sigh.

His angry, unblinking eyes fixed right on me. “I defended my life and my dignity, and that is the most important thing of all.”

I shook my head and bent down to collect Yo-Yo. “We have to go,” I whispered to Octo-Cat. “And when the other humans come downstairs, I have to stop talking to you.”

“What’s that?” Breanne asked, appearing suddenly at the foot of the stairs. Seriously, what was it with people sneaking up on me in this house? It gave me the heebie jeebies big time.

“Just telling them it’s time to go,” I answered truthfully.

Charles joined us a few moments later. “I was just gathering our things,” he said, handing me Octo-Cat’s bundled up leash. “And telling Breanne that I would be happy to apply a new coat of paint myself.”

Right, to cover the huge damage I’d made with my light pencil marks.

“I hired you to make things easier for me. Not harder,” Breanne said with a scowl.

“Sorry,” I apologized for all of us. “It was one-hundred percent my fault.”

Breanne regarded me coldly. “Oh, I know. That’s why I want you off my brother’s case.”

A pit of fear formed deep in my stomach. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Charles and I were supposed to take our new theory about the killer’s height and use it to clear Brock and save the day just in time. That would be much, much harder if Breanne stood in our way.

How could I explain this all without making her angrier? I didn’t know, but I at least had to try. “But…”

“But nothing. All you’re doing is making a mess of my sale property and distracting my lawyer from the job he’s supposed to be doing.”

“Brock’s lawyer,” I corrected without thinking.

Breanne fumed, stomping a heeled foot on the kitchen tile for added emphasis. “Yep. I definitely never want to see you again or your therapy animals. I’ll also be having a talk with Mr. Thompson about my grave disappointment with his firm’s performance to date.”

I gulped and forced myself to keep quiet even though my instinct was to either defend myself or accuse her. Yo-Yo tensed in my arms and growled at Breanne.

“What is it with small scrappy dogs and their hatred for me?” Breanne asked flippantly as she shoved our entire party toward the door. “The homeowners had one just like this. It was the most irritating thing. Definitely reminded me why I’m a cat person.”

“Did she say cat person?” Octo-Cat asked, quickening his pace so he could rub against the realtor’s ankles. The whole thing was uncomfortably flirtatious, and I seriously had no idea what my tabby expected to gain from such an exchange. “I think I like this one,” he purred.