Chapter 9
“… I’m just saying that it’s time,” Ina insisted on the other end of the wireless connection. As Nikki’s literary agent, Ina was always pushing Nikki to write another book. “Surely, you have some ideas, probably lots of them!”
Phone to her ear, Nikki eyed the books she’d written, the spines visible on the bookshelf in her office. They were all true crime, all about cases in which she’d been personally involved.
“The Third Grave came out last summer,” Ina prodded, and Nikki pictured the fiftyish woman with jet-black hair, dark eyes, and a throaty, cigarette-raspy voice. “I thought you might have a new project.”
“Maybe, but I’m not sure,” she admitted, thinking there might be an interesting angle to Billy Huber’s murder. “A case is developing, but it’s still in the beginning stages.”
“And an investigation can take years. I watch Dateline. You need to strike while the iron’s hot, or at least still warm. I’m sure you can come up with something.”
Maybe. Maybe not. “I’ll work on it,” Nikki promised before ending the conversation.
But, she had to admit, Ina was right: Who knew how long it would take before Billy Huber’s killer would be brought to justice?
Possibly never. And it might not be “juicy—a big story,” as Ina had always described her books.
Sighing, she eyed the open newspaper on her desk and saw her byline under the article about Huber’s homicide.
It had been short and to the point, no more information in the article than what she’d gotten from Viv, the public information officer.
Dry and simple.
For once, Norm Metzger hadn’t complained about Nikki taking over his territory or, as he so sweetly remarked, pissing in his pot. The truth was that Metzger, always on the lazy side, was eyeing retirement.
And the story had gotten old.
It had been over a week since Huber’s body had been found, and in that time, his daughter had identified his remains and returned to Florida. The police had contacted all of Billy’s known acquaintances, and though Pierce had admitted there were a plethora of suspects, progress was still slow.
Fink wanted something new on the murder.
So far, there wasn’t anything.
Ina thirsted for a new story.
Again, Nikki was drawing blanks.
She stood and stretched, hearing her back pop and seeing Arlo scramble to his feet.
After their argument, Pierce had relented; she could keep the dog after she’d vowed not to ever take in any strays again, not without first consulting with him.
That was fair, she decided, and if the situation ever arose again, she’d deal with it then. No need to borrow trouble.
The other caveat Pierce had insisted on was that Arlo needed to be a docile, non-aggressive family dog, one that would obey simple commands and never attack anyone.
On the issue of the dog’s temperament, she and her husband were in complete agreement.
For once.
“Come on,” she said to Arlo now, but the dog was already shooting past her and down the stairs.
He’d come a long way in a week.
From the snarling, matted mess she’d found at Huber’s house, to a shy, but seemingly loyal dog to Nikki and Chloe. Fortunately, the bird shot hadn’t affected his gait, had only been superficial, and already his coat was beginning to grow back a little.
Mikado had been a little standoffish at first, but had begun to accept the new member of the family.
Jennings wasn’t as keen on Arlo, his little pink nose definitely out of joint.
If the dog got too near, the tabby had taken to hissing and arching his back, then slinking into the shadows to curl up with Phee and ignore Nikki completely. As if she were a traitor.
Now, on the first floor, Arlo beelined for the back porch, and Nikki let him outside, where he romped onto the grass and rolled in the blades, grunting in pleasure as the day bled into dusk.
Mikado wandered outside, and Chloe, in footed pajamas, squealed in delight and sped past Nikki to join the dogs.
Pierce was right on his daughter’s heels. “It’s bedtime soon, right after dinner,” he said, but Chloe, giggling, flung herself down on the grass. “So much for the bath.”
Nikki couldn’t help but smile at her daughter’s joy and her husband’s good-natured frustration.
Pierce managed to corral their daughter and hauled her inside just as Lily and Phee returned from Phee’s horseback-riding lessons.
While Phee took off her helmet and kicked off her riding boots, Lily placed two pizza cartons on the kitchen island.
She stated, “This counts as my turn making dinner. And we’re using paper plates.
I know it’s not ecologically sound, but there’s no way I’m doing dishes.
” She located napkins and plates from the cabinet next to the table.
“Oh, here we go—all we have is Fourth of July and Christmas … oh, and one Halloween. What do you say?” she asked Chloe, once Nikki had settled her into her booster chair and snapped a bib over her already grass-stained PJs.
“Black cats?” Lily held out two plates, an orange one decorated with black cats and witches’ hats, and a second with an image of a deer with a red nose and matching scarf. “Or Rudolph?”
“Cat!” Chloe declared.
“There ya go.” Lily set the paper plate on the table in front of Chloe as Nikki cut up one piece of the Hawaiian pizza with its paper-thin slices of ham and chunks of pineapple, then dropped the bite-size bits onto the plate.
Phee washed the grime of the horse stables from her face and hands before sitting at the table, where the adults had divvied slices of Hawaiian and vegetarian pizzas.
“Anything new on the case?” Lily asked as she picked at a slightly charred artichoke leaf.
“Huber homicide?” Pierce shook his head.
Nikki pointed her pizza slice at her husband. “He wouldn’t tell us if there was.”
But maybe there just wasn’t anything to discuss.
Nikki had been going over her notes and making calls, but all she’d come up with were dead ends.
She’d talked to everyone she could think of, and her only new angle was about Huber’s wife Linda-Sue’s death.
In the single-car accident, Billy had swerved to avoid a deer that had darted into the road, but the doe had been hit and killed, the truck skidding into a telephone pole, and Linda-Sue had been pronounced DOA at the hospital.
Not exactly the purposeful tragedy Janelle had hinted at and blamed Billy for.
Was there more to the story?
So, far, Nikki didn’t think so.
But she would keep digging.