Молли Фитц - Terrier Transgressions

“He wants to see his sister,” Octo-Cat said as the Yorkie began to whimper and pad his paws on the ground impatiently.

“I’m going in,” Nan said, forging confidently ahead.

“Wait. Why you?” Charles demanded.

“None of us are relatives, but I’d wager whatever security they have in this place is far less likely to question a kindly old lady.” Nan paused for a moment. When neither of us argued with her, she straightened her posture and asked, “The mark’s name is Michelle Hayes, right?”

The mark? What? Had Nan been watching those con man adventure movies again? She was really getting way to in to this.

Now that I was awake enough to notice things a bit better, I realized that she had actually put together an elderly granny costume, complete with a knitted shawl and a high-waisted skirt. The ensemble was so very not her that it could only be intentional. She’d had this plan all along but hadn’t told me because she’d known I’d argue about her forging ahead alone.

Well, she was right about that much.

“I’m coming with you,” I said, handing Octo-Cat’s leash to Charles before trailing after her.

Charles grabbed me by my shoulder, forcing me to stop short. “She’s right. We’ll wait here until you come back or text us.”

Nan nodded.

Charles nodded.

I groaned and motioned for Nan to carry on her way. “Are they even going to let Yo-Yo into the dorms?” I called after her.

“Only one way to find out,” Charles answered as we both watched Nan turn the corner to the front of the building.

“I don’t like this,” I pouted. “And I don’t think Michelle did it.”

“Yes, we’ve established what you think,” my companion said with a groan.

“It’s not just that I think Breanne’s hiding something,” I explained. “I mean, why would Michelle kill her own parents? And wouldn’t Yo-Yo have recognized his own sister?”

“I don’t know,” Charles answered coolly. “But you’re the one who insisted we come out here. Remember?”

“Only so we can eliminate Michelle and see if she has any direct proof that points to Breanne,” I reminded him. Yes, I’d vowed not to jump to conclusions after my wrong assumptions nearly got me killed on the last case, but this was different. Yo-Yo had more or less identified Breanne already, and she was still the only person in the whole world he seemed to dislike. That had to be more than a simple coincidence.

Charles seemed far less convinced. “Well, I guess we’ll see,” he said with a shrug.

“Yeah, I guess we will.”

Neither of us said anything more as we waited for Nan to return, although I sent out a quiet prayer that she’d have a ready and willing partner to help us finish our investigation once and for all.

Time was ticking away fast.

Chapter Sixteen

Nan reappeared about fifteen minutes later. At her side stood a fiery-haired, freckle-faced girl wearing pajama pants that had been liberally patterned with smiling cartoon tacos.

“Hello, darlings,” Nan sang out proudly. “This is Mitch Hayes.”

“Yeah. Nobody’s called me Michelle from grade school,” the college student explained before plopping a kiss right on Yo-Yo’s fuzzy head. The little dog looked as if he were floating on a cloud as Mitch hugged and doted on him.

“Thanks for coming out to talk to us,” Charles said. He rose and offered his hand to Mitch, and she struggled to adjust the terrier in her arms to accept his greeting, leading to a rather awkward introduction.

“Why weren’t you answering any calls?” I demanded. Maybe I was being a tad rude, but none of us had time to waste if we wanted to meet my mother’s deadline for clearing Brock.

The girl shrugged. “I dropped my phone in a toilet a couple weeks ago and haven’t felt the need to replace it since I’m pretty much always on my computer or tablet, anyway.”

“But why not return any of the many, many calls from people trying to get in touch with you?” Charles asked, crooking his eyebrow.

“I was sick of people calling to make themselves feel better about offering condolences while only making me feel worse with the constant reminders that my parents are dead.” She buried her face in the Yorkie’s fur and mumbled, “Maybe I don’t want to talk about the fact my parents were murdered in cold blood.”

Nan placed an arm around Mitch and pulled her in close. “You two can stop with the third degree now. Mitch doesn’t have to help us, but she’s kindly agreed to anyhow.”

“Thank you, Mitch,” I said, offering a smile I hoped would get through to her. “We do really appreciate it.”

She kicked at the ground and kept her eyes focused there. “So you really think this Brock guy is innocent?”

I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and waited for her to look up at me. “We know he is.”

She shivered beneath my hand and her face took on a new pallor. “That means the person who killed my parents is still out there.”

I let go of her shoulder and grabbed my shoulder instead. “Yeah.”

“Tell me what you need me to do.” Mitch set her mouth in a determined line, her brows furrowed in anger.

“Over here.” Charles cleared his throat and motioned for everyone to sit on a nearby retaining wall. “We need you to tell us anything that could help us identify the real killer.”

Poor Mitch looked a bit lost. “But you have my statement, right? I already told the cops everything I could think of.”

“We do, but do you mind if we ask you a few more questions in light of recent things we’ve learned?” Charles asked, reaching into his bag. I seriously hoped he didn’t plan to pull out the crime scene photos right now. Mitch shouldn’t have to see that.

Even before Charles could find what he was searching for, a sudden burst of tears fell from the girl’s bright blue eyes.

“Oh for goodness’s sake, you two. Slow down a bit. Can’t you see this is hard on her?” Nan grumbled, pressing the girl’s head into her shoulder. “You just go ahead and cry all the tears you need to cry. That’s right. Nan is here for you now.”

Yo-Yo whined and licked his sister’s face, offering a hesitant tail wag.

As I watched them and tried to come up with a new way to approach questioning Mitch, Octo-Cat pawed at my shoulder.

“Excuse me,” he said, shocking me with his sudden politeness. “Dum-Du—I mean, the dog says he remembers who hurt his owners now. Also, he says he thinks his humans might even be dead.”

“He remembers?” I asked, not even caring when Mitch lifted her head to study us curiously. “I thought he said it was too dark to see.”

“Yes, but he smelled everything just fine, and apparently remembers who it was now,” Octo-Cat explained slowly.

Yo-Yo fixed his eyes on me and gave an urgent bark.

“So, yeah.” Octo-Cat dropped his voice to a hissy whisper and leaned in close. “Can I finally just tell him already?”

“Tell him what? Oh…” That his owners are dead. Yo-Yo still didn’t know for sure. I nodded my agreement. “Yeah, I think it’s time.”

Octo-Cat spoke to Yo-Yo calmly and much kinder than he ever had before. When he’d said all he needed to say, I waited for the inevitable high-pitched screeching and crazy escape attempts from Yo-Yo, but he just let out a soft whimper and snuggled in closer to Mitch.

“Why isn’t he freaking out?” I asked my cat.

Octo-Cat had something akin to respect written across his face. I couldn’t be one-hundred percent sure, since I’d never seen him make that expression before and it didn’t seem likely I’d ever see it again, either.

“He wants to be strong for his human,” he told me.