Cappuccinos, Cupcakes, and a Corpse Page 13

  “That’s actually not why I’m here, but thank you.” I had butterflies in my stomach. I always got nervous when I had to admit to screwing up or doing something wrong, but when I had to admit to a man that I had thought he was a murderer and had even gone to the police to tell them, I was extra nervous.

  He just stared at me. I guessed if I wasn’t there about my grandfather’s radio, he wasn’t interested in finding out what I did want. Not that I blamed him, under the circumstances. I tried to smile. We were standing barely a couple of feet apart with only the counter between us. I wasn’t sure if anyone was in the back, but I thought I heard some shuffling. Assuming that whoever was back there didn’t know about Karl’s history, I didn’t want to negate my apology by filling them in.

  “Karl, I understand that I owe you an apology,” I said quietly.

  He gave no indication that he’d heard me but none that he hadn’t either.

  “I made some assumptions and leapt to some conclusions and came up with something that was totally wrong. I should have stayed out of it and let the police do their job. I’m sorry,” I said.

  He stared at me for a few seconds then gave me the slightest of nods. “Thank you.” We looked at each other for a few more seconds. “Is there anything else?”

  “No,” I replied. “That’s all.”

  “We’ll call you when your radio’s done,” he said and turned to go into the back.

  He was a strange man for sure, but I didn’t fault him for not wanting to hang around talking to me. I waited until he had disappeared, just to make sure he wasn’t going to suddenly turn around and come back, then left to go home. I could have gone to work, but I needed to think. I tucked my papers under my arm and shoved my hands in my pockets as I walked toward the park and its shortcut to my house.

  It had been, by pretty much every imaginable measure, a pretty awful summer. First my fiancé had left me, then my mother passed away, then Mr. Cardosi was murdered, then I accused an innocent man of the crime. At least only one of those things was my fault. The rest of it was just the universe trying to mess with me. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? That was what my mother would have said anyway. So far the only good that had come out of the past few months was getting to quit my job and escape the New York City rat race. That, and getting to reconnect with Matt. Spending time with Matt again was like getting transported back in time to my high school days, but without all the awkwardness that came with being in high school. Being with him now was just fun. I was my adult self, with all of my knowledge and confidence, but without all the awkwardness that usually came with dating someone new. Not that Matt and I were dating. We just didn’t have any getting-to-know-you discomfort when we hung out.

  Being so off-balance from all the changes in my personal life had to be how I’d gone so wrong with the whole Karl debacle. Everything I’d relied on for so many years had been completely upended. I’d latched on to my investigation of Mr. Cardosi’s murder as something to give me purpose and direction, but work could give me that. Redecorating my house could give me that. My friends—Matt and Sammy—could give me that. My new pet could give me that, as soon as I found him. I didn’t need to be an amateur detective to have purpose, especially since I was apparently pretty terrible at it. My work, my house, my friends, and my pet would be my focus. That was what I would do with myself and my time.

  I was in the park, walking past the chess tables. A dog ran along by the tree line. It stood out to me because stray dogs weren’t common in Cape Bay. I thought he must have gotten off his leash or escaped his yard. He didn’t have a collar, but I remembered one time when I was a kid and my best friend and I were walking her dog. He had managed to slip completely out of his collar and left us standing with an empty collar hanging from the leash. I wondered if this dog had done the same thing. He didn’t seem particularly interested in or afraid of me. He just ran along, roughly keeping pace with me as I walked fairly quickly through the park. Eventually, though, he turned off and ran down the hill ahead of me, as if he’d suddenly realized he had somewhere to be.

  It must not have been too far away, though, because as I got toward the stairs, I heard him barking. The closer I got, the louder and more frantic it got. I usually almost ran down the stairs, but when I reached the top, I realized the dog was right at the bottom, barking furiously. I hesitated, resting my hand on the railing. Just as I decided not to show the strange dog any fear and lifted my foot to take the first step, I felt something sweep my feet out from under me.

  I yelped as my face flew down toward the steep concrete stairs. My papers went flying, and I barely stopped myself from tumbling down the stairs head over heels. If my hand hadn’t already been on the railing, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. Sharp pain shot up my right leg as I twisted on it in an attempt to regain my footing. The dog flew up the stairs past me, still barking loudly. My arm wrenched as my body rotated toward the top of the stairs. I saw feet clad in men’s shoes disappearing back toward the chess tables, assisted by the cane I instinctively knew had been used to trip me. The dog perched on the top stair, barking at the fleeing feet.

  I struggled to my feet to follow the tripper and his cane, but as soon as I put weight on my leg, it gave out beneath me. With the amount of pain I felt, there was no way I was walking anywhere. I wiggled around so that I was sitting on one of the steps, my hurt leg stretched out in front of me. I tensed up when the dog came down the couple of stairs to where I was sitting. When he immediately shoved his wet nose into my palm, I calmed down, though. He was a friendly dog. His mouth was shaped as if he were smiling. Medium-sized with scruffy gray and brown fur, he looked like a stray. I wondered where he had come from.

  It occurred to me, if not for his barking, I would have been going a lot faster and not holding onto the stair railing when I was tripped. He wasn’t just friendly—he was my friend. I scratched his head in thanks.

  As soon as I did, as if that indicated to him that I was okay, he ran back up the stairs and barked again. I turned as best I could to look up toward where he was standing, but he disappeared from my view and his barking faded. I sighed. Maybe he wasn’t my friend after all. I was glancing around at my notes scattered all over the ground and trying to figure out how I’d get myself up or down the stairs when I heard his barking get louder again. I looked back up to see the dog return. He scampered down the stairs, bumped his nose against me, then took off back up the stairs, barking furiously. The barking got fainter then louder as he repeated his run-away-and-come-back pattern. I wondered if it was possible that he was trying to get help. That seemed like an out-there idea and I hadn’t exactly had the best track record with crazy ideas lately, but what else could he be doing, running back and forth like that?

  I couldn’t just sit there and wait, even if he was trying to help me. I glanced up and down the stairs. I had definitely landed closer to the top than the bottom. I pushed my right heel into one of the steps below me. Pain shot back up my leg. Definitely my knee hurt. I tested my left leg. That one had been spared. I braced my palms against the step above me and pushed up with my arms and my left leg. I only had a few steps to get up. As long as I didn’t put any pressure on my right leg, I was okay. I worked my way up the stairs as the dog continued to race back and forth. I crested the stairs and scooted off to the edge of the sidewalk.

  The dog raced back again and sat on the pavement next to me. He kept barking, so loud it hurt my ears a little, and I had to lean away. Even so, I couldn’t help but reach out to scratch my new buddy’s chest.

  “Franny, is that you? Are you okay?”

  I looked up, shocked to hear Matt’s voice. “Yeah, I just had a little tumble.”

  Matt hurried over and crouched down beside me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. At that time of day, I expected him to be at work.

  “Looking for you. What happened? Did you trip over your feet or something?”

  “More like I was tr
ipped.”

  Matt looked startled. “You were what?”

  I sighed. “I was walking home from the police station, and someone with a cane tripped me when I got to the stairs. If it wasn’t for this guy, I would have gone down a lot harder.” I gestured toward the dog.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking me up and down and seeming to focus on the awkward way I was holding my leg.

  “I twisted my knee. I can’t really put weight on it.”

  “God, Franny, we need to get you to a doctor. Come on, let me help you up.”

  Matt stood and reached down to help me to my feet. Well, to my foot, since the left one was the only one doing me much good at the moment. He stood on my right side and wrapped his arm around my waist.

  “We’ll get you out to the street, then I’ll run and get my car, okay?” he asked.

  “Okay,” I replied. We started limping along. “Wait! We need to bring the dog!”

  Matt looked back at the mutt still sitting on the ground where I’d been.

  “Are you sure he doesn’t belong to someone?” he asked me.

  “No, but he doesn’t have a collar. He saved me. The least we can do is help him find his owner if he has one.”

  “All right.” Matt shrugged. He patted his leg with his free hand. “Come on, boy!”

  The dog popped up and trotted over to us, following along as we limped out to the street.

  Chapter 19

  “Can we drop the dog off at my house?” I asked as Matt pulled his car away from the curb. “He can’t stay in the car while we’re at the urgent care.”

  Matt looked skeptical. “Are you sure you want to drop some strange dog off in your house then leave it for a few hours?”

  “Well, what do you suggest?” I asked.

  “For you to worry more about your leg and less about the dog. How’s it doing there? Does it have enough support?” Matt had put his briefcase and a balled-up sweatshirt under my heel to keep my leg straight and propped up.

  “It’s okay,” I replied. “I’m sure it can wait a while if you think it would be better to run to a store and pick up some food and a crate for him.”

  “That’s not exactly what I meant,” Matt said. “You know he probably belongs to someone, right?”

  I wanted to think that he didn’t actually. He was friendly and comfortable with people, but he was on the thin side, as though he hadn’t been getting enough to eat lately.

  “Yes,” I said reluctantly. “But don’t you think they’d want him to be safe and well taken care of until they can be reunited?”

  Matt rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think they’re more likely to look for him at the shelter than in your house?”

  As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I knew he was right. “I guess so.”

  “Besides, they’ll be able to get him all checked out and dewormed or whatever.” Matt pulled the car into the animal shelter’s parking lot.

  “Okay.” I sighed as he got out of the car. “But make sure you give them my name! I want that dog if no one comes for him!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Matt opened the back door to let the dog out.

  The little mutt obediently followed him into the shelter as if it was the most normal thing in the world and he’d known Matt for years.

  “Bye, Latte!” I called softly, waving. I’d already started thinking of the dog as Latte because his fur was the exact shade of a perfectly mixed latte. I really hoped he’d come home with me someday soon.

  I wiggled around to get my phone out of my pocket while I waited for Matt to come back out. I had four texts and two missed calls from Matt. I’d completely forgotten that I’d put my phone on silent when I went into the police station. I turned the volume back up and had just opened the Internet browser when Matt came back out of the shelter. A big smile broke across my face when I saw Latte tripping along beside him.

  Matt opened the car’s rear door and guided Latte in with a new bright-blue leash. Matt tossed a baggie of dog food in behind him.

  “What happened?” I asked, trying to restrain my glee as Matt got back in the car.

  He sighed. “If someone finds a lost dog, they encourage them to keep it. She said it’s better for the dogs. She scanned him for a microchip, which he didn’t have, took a picture for their website, and gave me enough food to get him through until we can get to the store. I guess you get to take him home after all.”

  I clapped and squealed as if I was eight years old. I twisted around as best I could to look at Latte without hurting my leg. “Do you want to come home with me, Latte? Would you like that? I have to go to the doctor for a little bit, but when I come home, we can snuggle on the couch and—”

  “Wait, did you already name the dog?” Matt interrupted.

  “Well, I couldn’t just keep calling him ‘the dog’! Especially not if he’s coming home with me!”

  Matt just shook his head. He drove us over to my house to drop Latte off.

  “Put him in the upstairs bathroom—it’s bigger than the downstairs one,” I said. We’d decided that locking Latte in a bathroom would be the best bet for the time being so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed by a big new house and go crazy. “And don’t forget to give him a big bowl of food and water. He looks hungry, don’t you, Latte?” I scratched his chin one more time before Matt got him out of the car.

  When Matt came out, he drove me to the doctor, who said I had definitely sprained my knee and would have to wear a brace for a few weeks until it healed. Elevate, rest, cold compresses, and painkillers.

  “Do you have anyone at home to help you out around the house until you’re back on your feet?” the doctor asked.

  Before I could say I didn’t but that I would be fine on my own, Matt interrupted. “I can take care of her.”

  I looked at him, surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

  We picked up some burgers and fries on the way back to my house—after I’d called Sammy to tell her what had happened, of course. With all the excitement, I’d completely forgotten that I hadn’t eaten until suddenly I was starving. I tried to get Matt to let me pay, but he just refused to take my credit card with him when he went inside. I surreptitiously stuffed fries in my mouth as he drove, and Matt pretended he didn’t notice.

  When we got to the house, Matt got my crutches out of the backseat and helped me navigate my way inside, then he went upstairs to let Latte out of the bathroom. Latte raced down the stairs and ran around the house until he found me in the kitchen. He jumped up and licked my face. I knew I should stop him from putting his paws on the table to reach me, but it was so sweet that he was so excited to see me that I figured I’d let him do it just this once.

  When Matt and I finished eating, he helped me into the living room and got my leg propped up with some pillows on the couch. Latte jumped up with me at first, but that was a little uncomfortable, so he ended up lying on the floor beside me. Matt sat in my grandfather’s old recliner.

  “You know, we should probably call the police if someone deliberately tripped you down the stairs,” he said.

  “Yeah.” I thought for a minute. “Who in town walks with a cane? Or maybe a limp?”

  “Other than you?” Matt asked.

  “I use crutches, thank you very much.”

  Matt chuckled. “A lot of people use a cane. Half of this street uses a cane.” Matt studied my face. “This is getting dangerous, Franny. Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that as soon as you leave the police station after telling the cops about this Karl guy, you get tripped down the stairs?” Realization dawned across Matt’s face. “Wait, does Karl walk with a cane?”

  I hadn’t told Matt yet about my meeting with Mike. He didn’t know that Karl was not the man who had killed his father.

  “Um, no,” I said.

  “Franny?” I could hear in Matt’s voice that he knew I wasn’t telling him something.

  “Karl’s not the one who
killed your dad. Mike already talked to him, and he was at the doctor’s in Boston during the murder. I don’t know who did it, but apparently someone thinks I do, and they’re trying to stop me.”

  Matt stared at me for a minute, then he stood and walked across the room. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.

  “Matty? Who are you calling? Matty?”

  He didn’t answer, but whoever he was calling did. “Hi, it’s Matt Cardosi. How’re you doing today?... good, good. Look, the reason I’m calling—somebody tripped Franny at the stairs in the park today and she messed up her knee pretty good. I don’t know if this is related to what happened to my dad, but we need to file a police report either way… yeah… yeah… okay… yeah… okay, see you in a few minutes… thanks, Mike. Bye.” Matt turned around and looked at me. “Franny, I know you feel strongly about finding whoever killed my dad, and obviously I do too, but not at the expense of your life! You could’ve broken your neck falling down those stairs! Mike’ll be here in a few minutes to take a report. Will you just take a step back and let the police handle this?”

  “Matty, whoever it was pushed me down the stairs! He may not have been trying to kill me, but he was trying to hurt me. Even if I am a terrible detective, I can’t just sit here and accept it.”

  “I’m not saying let it go—I’m saying let the police do their jobs. You don’t need to be the one who solves this.”

  Yes, I do. No matter what Matt said, someone had come after me. I couldn’t just take that lying down. Well, figuratively anyway. For at least the next few days, I would be taking pretty much everything lying down since I couldn’t put any weight on my leg. But I couldn’t tell Matt that. Not right now anyway. Not until he’d calmed down a little.

  “Okay,” I said with a small smile. “I’ll lay off. But if someone tries to come after me again, you better believe I’m taking them down!”

  “Just smack ‘em with your crutches.” He gestured at Latte. “Or sic your vicious dog on him.”