“Or drugs?”
I tilted my head back to Chief Turner. “Not that I ever saw or even suspected. I have no idea why anyone would do this.”
The chief nodded and went back to doing whatever police chiefs do when someone’s been murdered. His questions had made me uneasy about what the days ahead would bring, what we would learn about Henry and about our world.
Already the Buckingham van was surrounded by orange cones and four or five law enforcement officers. Two Lewes police cars, which for all I knew could be the totality of the force’s fleet, had been moved closer. The cheerful yellow swirls painted on their car doors now seemed unbefitting to me, and I turned my head.
Next, Paris had her turn for doing her business and she performed admirably. Lady Anthea got in the passenger seat and I placed both the smaller dogs on her lap. As I closed the door, I looked back to see the woman police officer picking sand and gravel out of the Buckingham van’s tire treads and bagging it. I pulled my eyes away.
“Our first stop will be to drop off the dachshund. Charles Andrews swears the dog has low blood sugar.”
“Does he?” Anthea looked the dog in the eye; it seemed she dared him to tell a fib. He pulled back. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“We checked with his vet to confirm that he doesn’t have diabetes. He doesn’t.”
I took back roads to Route 1 and we headed south toward Rehoboth Beach. In a few miles we turned left, back toward the water. We hadn’t been talking. Again, Lady Anthea seemed to be taking in as much of the scenery as she could.
“Here’s Charles’s street. I hope you haven’t been too uncomfortable holding both dogs.”
“Not at all. Do you think anyone will complain about the dogs riding in the front seat unsecured?”
“Once they know they’re in your lap, it’ll be fine,” I assured her.
Charles Andrews came out of his house before we had come to a complete stop. How was I going to explain where So-Long’s leash was? Turns out I didn’t have to. Anthea opened the car door and the eighty-year-old widower reached for his dog, easily taking him into his arms. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, maybe a touch of jet lag,” Lady Anthea said.
“I’m fine just a little sho…,” I said. Mr. Andrews was holding the dachshund close and looking into his eyes. It was obvious he hadn’t been asking about either of us. “Oh, you were talking to So-Long.”
“Yes, I was. I heard what happened. Or almost happened.”
“Almost?” My intention was to say as little as possible, but Henry wasn’t almost dead.
“Sue, I trusted you. And now I hear your employee was killed trying to steal our dogs.”
“Where did you hear that?” I asked, trying not to get annoyed.
“From an extremely reliable source.” You can’t throw a stick in a small town like Lewes without hitting a so-called reliable source.
As much as I wanted to know who had made such an outlandish suggestion about my employee, I didn’t have time to cajole it out of Charles Andrews. We had two more dogs to deliver. “Let’s wait until all the facts come out.”
He continued to examine his dog for ill effects. So-Long’s expression hadn’t changed. “May I introduce you to Lady Anthea Fitzwalter?”
That drew his attention from the dog, but not for long. “Pleasure to meet you.” Then he went back to scrutinizing his dog.
She smiled. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“See you Friday night,” I called on my way back to the Jeep.
“I don’t…” The rest of what Charles had to say was lost in a mumble.
“I do hope so, Mr. Andrews,” Lady Anthea said. “I always say it’s not summer without an annual fête.” Was it possible she had just sounded more British?
“Well, I guess I’ll be there.” Allowing himself to be charmed into relenting, but only to a maybe.
I said good night and we headed out for our next drop off. “He seemed to be having second thoughts about coming to the gala. And I know he had really been looking forward to it.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine by Friday. This is only Monday.”
***
“My poor baby! Almost a Canadian!” Kate Carter leaned into the back seat of the Jeep and hugged Robber.
Huh?
“Sue, I heard all about it. You must be so relieved he didn’t get away with it.”
For the time being, Henry’s killer had gotten away with it. I had known Kate, fifty-something, blond, tall, but she always wore heels, throwing safety to the wind for years. She read the confusion on my face. “You don’t know?”
I opened the rear passenger side door and a worn-out Robber lumbered down. “Know what?” Oh, I knew plenty.
Kate ran her hand down the back of her sleepy dog’s neck. “Your employee was on his way to Canada to sell our dogs. Somebody, must have been a dog person, committed murder to stop him. I hope you don’t have any other rogue employees like that. I’ve never heard anything like it.”
“Neither have I,” the British voice in the front seat said.
Lady Anthea got out and patted the startled dog owner’s arm. “Certainly, we can’t be too careful with our dogs.”
Kate was about to say something but Lady Anthea rolled on.
“The queen’s favorite corgi breeder is also my breeder.” Let’s just say, she didn’t have to worry about Kate interrupting again. That line was a showstopper. “Our corgis are from the same line. My two are being boarded at her farm while I’m here in the…” She hesitated. This was going to be good. Oh, no. What if she pulled out one of her obscure cultural references? “…The colonies.” She bestowed a smile, and Kate looked like she wished she had a notepad on her. “Buckingham Pet Palace is as safe as a dog can be. You have my word.”
“Thank yooooou,” Kate reverently whispered.
I couldn’t move. I had never seen anything like that performance. I was grateful. I’m not sure what the political parties are in England, but at that moment I would have voted for anyone my business partner wanted me to. Tories? Do they still have Tories?
I moved Paris from the driver’s seat, where Anthea had deposited her, and started the Jeep. I had to get Lady Anthea away from there before Kate started curtsying. We had one more stop before we could return to Lewes.
* * * *
I accelerated onto Route 1. We were both happy to have all three dogs safely in their own homes and to be heading back to Lewes for dinner. Betsy Rivard had the same crazy story about Henry intending to sell the dogs, and Anthea had charmed her the same way as the others. Of course, she felt her poodle, Paris, was the real target of the scheme.
“Is the weather always this pleasant?” she asked.
“The weather in Delaware is pretty mild. And this summer has been especially nice. We have the occasional tropical storm and nor’easter, but none are predicted this month. The weather should be perfect for Friday’s gala. Want to stop by the Lewes beach to watch the sunset before going to Gilligan’s?”
“Oh, yes! That would be lovely.”
I looked at the clock on the dash. “I just need to call Buckingham’s to check on everyone.” She cringed and I realized I had said Buckingham’s. That’s what all our pet parents call it, but Anthea hates