Charity and Milo were bustling behind the counter. Always one to ply me with her baked goods, Charity offered me a thickly frosted caramel macchiato cupcake. Unable to exert any self-control, I gobbled the cupcake before heading back over to the doggie section, where we weren't allowed to have food.
Summer had dropped off a fairly sedate crew of dogs today. There was an older beagle, who occasionally launched into an impromptu, lonesome howl, as well as a couple of low-energy smaller dogs. It hit me that since we were matching customers with poochie pets, the number of dogs at the shelter might dwindle. It was a great problem to have, but at some point we might have to pull from shelters in neighboring towns.
I glanced toward the coffee bar when I heard a familiar voice. Isabella had come in alone, and she was placing an order for a low-fat, sugar-free vanilla soy latte. I had to smile, because she added one of Charity's irresistible cupcakes to her otherwise low-cal order.
She caught a glimpse of me and gave an excited wave. "Macy! I'm so glad to see you again!"
Milo gave me an inscrutable look from behind his glasses, but I was pretty sure he was curious as to how I would've befriended a country clubber like Isabella. Chances were, his parents ran in the same circles.
Isabella tottered over toward the doggie section in her elegant nude suede heels, stopping short at the divider wall. Since she didn't appear to have a job, I couldn't fathom why she felt the need to don designer heels every time she went out in our small town. If I were posh and wealthy, I'd wear slippers around and send my butler to pick up the coffee and pastries for me. Bo called it my "youngest child syndrome," and it was true—I loved being babied every chance I could. Jake had known that from the get-go, and had wooed me with expensive restaurants and elaborately planned activities.
Isabella leaned on wooden ledge, watching the dogs as she took a huge bite of her cupcake.
She closed her eyes. "Follow your bliss, honey. That's what I'm going to do."
I didn't know if she was talking to me or to herself, so I gave the dogs head pats all round.
After devouring her treat, Isabella focused on me. "I'm so glad I ran into you last night. I just feel like I need to talk to someone about the whole thing with Gerard. I mean, Doc Schneider's helpful, but he's so...noncommittal, you know? Just like a shrink." She laughed.
I didn't mind exploiting her need to talk. After all, Gerard's death had to be connected with his Great Dane's dognapping, didn't it? It was entirely possible the dognapper was looking for the metal tag on Coal's collar. They hadn't gotten it, though—I'd checked my safe and it was still there.
"I understand," I said, wondering what fresh news Isabella might have today. She seemed to be a wealth of information, and she had no hesitation in sharing it.
"Gerard and I were so close," she began, taking a sip of her latte. "I haven't really shared this with my other friends, but Gerard told me he thought someone was stalking him. One night he saw shadows when he was locking up, and another time he was convinced someone had rifled through his stuff when he was out on the course." She sniffed. "I told him it must be his imagination. And now he's dead! I shouldn't have brushed him off like he was seeing things."
She did, indeed, seem to be grieving the loss of her golf instructor—perhaps a bit too much, if he was only a golf instructor? The beagle started whining, perhaps picking up on the sad vibes emanating from Isabella.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Did he feel anxious about any particular person he worked with? I mean, did anyone have a reason to stalk him?"
"No, everyone seemed to like him. I think he'd had a little tiff or two with the director Alice, but nothing too intense."
One of the smaller dogs strained at its leash to get to Isabella. "Do you want to pet one?" I asked.
"Of course!" She placed her almost-empty coffee cup on the table and pointed. "How about that fluffy one—do you think it's part Maltese?
I glanced down at the long-haired white dog. "I suppose it's possible," I said. Anything was possible, but I was doubtful this cutie had any strain of purebred in it.
Isabella walked over and took the small dog's leash before returning to our conversation. "For the past couple of years, Gerard hosted a Christmas party for the Ivy Hill staff and select clients at his house. It was the quaintest little home, over in Fairlea, and it wasn't far from the spiritual center."
I thought about confiding that Coal might've tried to return to Gerard's house so Isabella would give me the exact address, but I decided against it. Instead, I asked, "You said his house is quaint—is it similar to others in that area?"
"Oh, no." She gave a fond, reminiscent smile. "It's this bright yellow cottage and it has the cutest white gingerbread trim...in fact, it reminds me of a little gingerbread house with its sloped roof. It's over on Third Street." As she scratched at the white dog's ears, it nuzzled into her hand. Was Isabella ever planning on adopting a dog from us, or did she just like shooting the breeze in our cafe? Was she actually trying to befriend me, or did she just need a listening ear?
Other customers were trickling into the dog petting area, so I stood to greet them. "Thanks for talking, Isabella," I said.
She glanced up from the dog, which she seemed smitten with. She struck me as a lonely woman who could really use a canine pet. "Of course. I've told absolutely all my friends about your fabulous place. We'll talk again soon, I'm sure!"
Bo walked in—capturing the attention of several females, including Isabella. He was wearing a gray sweater that played nicely against his red hair and beard. It also fit his muscles well, which was another attention-grabber for the ladies.
"Hey, sis, you have a minute?" He nodded at the customers in the room, and Isabella fluttered her eyelashes.
"Sure." Since the dogs were being quite calm, I opened the gate and met him near the coffee bar.
"Just wondering if you needed an extra hand in there? I noticed you were spending a lot of time with that blonde woman. Is she thinking of adopting a dog or something?"
I shrugged. "I honestly don't know. She just dropped in here and started talking to me. But it's okay—I shut the conversation down when other customers moseyed in." I glanced around at the nearby tables and no one appeared to be listening to us. "Actually, I wanted to talk with you, Bo. There's something going on up at that Ivy Hill Spiritual Center for Healing, I'm sure of it. I think someone there might've dognapped Coal."
"What?" Bo took my elbow and lightly steered me toward the back room, where we had to sidestep a couple of boxes of take-out cups. "What makes you think that? Wasn't that where someone was murdered?"
I might as well lay all my cards on the table for my big bro, who had always been my protector in grade school and beyond. I explained how Katie the masseuse had paid me a visit, trying to buy Coal, and how I suspected she'd wanted the metal tag I'd cut from his collar and hidden in my safe. I told him that Isabella knew Gerard, so it had been helpful to talk with her and get a better grip on Gerard's situation before he died.
I leaned against the sink. "I think someone's holding Coal at Ivy Hill. I heard a big dog barking last night when I visited the center."