Pizza, Paws and a Kidnapped Dog: Baker Girls Cozy Mystery, #5

By maria grazia swan

No matter what she does, mysteries seem to dog her every step…

 

With her sexy millionaire boyfriend out of town, Monica Baker is sure she'll have an uneventful week.

 

She doesn't.

 

Because it's not long before she finds herself dragged into a dog kidnapping scandal the likes of which pet lovers in sunny Arizona have never known. And sadly, that mystery only leads to an even bigger—and deadlier—one.

 

Seriously, what does a girl have to do to get some peace, quiet, and a happily ever after around here?   

• Language: English
• Publisher: maria grazia swan
• Release date: Nov 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215108789

Book preview

ONE

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THIS PLACE SUCKS, Kassandra muttered into the coffee mug with Another Morning in Paradise printed over the logo of the local Paradise Lounge.

I nodded and ran my fingers over the dusty kitchen tabletop, gingerly writing my initials. In cursive. The remodeling of the Desert Homes Realty office had come to another unannounced halt, and while most of the computers, desks, and such were already packed to be moved to the new wing of the building, the main entrance and receptionist station just sat there like the kitchen, covered in dust and neglect. What wasn’t dusty, was missing. The few agents daring to come to the kitchen left without a sip of coffee but with a good gulp of annoyance.

Kassandra had been promoted from plain receptionist to the person in charge of the whole new front office, but that would be as soon as we could move in of course. For now, she was biding her time keeping an eye on her new domain.

Who’s minding the phones? I asked.

I am... and a temporary outside service. Lucky for me, the answering service pissed off a few of our clients on day one, so I’m not too concerned about the competition. She dumped the cold, leftover coffee into the sink and tried to rinse out the mug, only to discover the water had been turned off. She didn’t look happy. That’s it. I’ve had it. I’m getting the hell out of here. Her tone told me she meant it.

Kassandra, it’s a temporary inconvenience. Keep your eye on the prize. Soon you’ll have your new desk, heck, a whole new office with your own helpers. You know what you need? A break from all this. And I need to go check out the Eighth Place property I sold last month. Want to join me? Let the outside service take over for a few hours. We can grab some lunch on the way back and go see the progress of the new building. What do you say? I waited.

Monica, why do you need to check out that place? Didn’t escrow close weeks ago? Why do they keep bothering you? she asked. Her voice sounded a little more normal, but I could tell she was still angry. Not that I blamed her. Kassandra was used to being in charge of the show, and now there weren’t any performers much less anyone to perform for.

Greg Coste, my buyer, —I shrugged— is out of town, and he had the construction people there. He asked me to check that they locked up and turned off all the electricity. He’ll be back on Sunday night. Let’s go, come on. I winked as if we were embarking on some fabulous adventure. It will do you good. Like old times, remember?

She ran her fingers through her wild copper curls and started to gather her stuff. Okay then.

How come you’re still driving the rental SUV? she asked before even buckling her safety belt. Are you keeping it?

I shook my head. No way. I’m buying a four-door sedan. I’m sick of SUVs. I can’t even wear a skirt. With me being short it’s too hard to get in and out unless I carry around a step stool. I extended the lease by a month.

Why? Kassandra asked.

Why what?

I took the surface streets instead of the 51 North to Glendale Avenue. Camelback Road was pleasant this time of day. People were already at work, and it was too early for the lunch crowd. Plus, springtime in Phoenix was possibly the best time of the year. Blue skies, flowering citrus trees, and warm and sunny weather while most of the United States was still under inches of snow.

Why extend the lease—which I’m sure was pricey—instead of buying the damn sedan and being done with it? Kassandra sounded annoyed.

Oh, that. Tristan. He insists on looking at cars with me.

Looking at cars as in buying you one? She fidgeted with the radio and changed the station to some country stuff.

Nooo, of course not. It’s bad enough that most of the money I’m using for the car comes from the commission I received for the Tucson ranch he purchased. No, he’s concerned I’ll be buying a car that’s not safe because I don’t want to go above budget.

Yep, lover boy is buying you a car, she stated as if it were a done deal.

I hummed along with the radio, pretending I didn’t hear her. The last thing I wanted to do was start an argument over a car and Tristan’s old-fashioned assumption he could change my mind and convince me to buy a new car instead of a used one with low mileage.

By the way, what happened to your pink Fiat? she asked.

Ouch. I didn’t want to think about my beloved little car. The insurance decided to offer me a ridiculously low amount of money and junk the car. Might as well have stabbed me in the heart.

The insurance company declared it to be scrap. Can we change the subject? If I had a big backyard, I’d probably make a gazebo for my Fiat and sit in there instead of on a lounge chair or something.

You’re a weirdo, Kassandra declared. By the way, where is Greg Coste from? California? Is that where he spends his weekends?

He’s in Laughlin, Nevada.

Laughlin? He’s a gambler?

No... I mean, yes about Laughlin. I doubt he went there to gamble.

What else does one do there? It’s a gambling town.

I sighed, might as well spit it out. Brenda went with him.

What the hell? Your aunt Brenda? Oh, crap. They are getting married?

No, what’s wrong with you? Greg wanted to see what the place looks like. Plus, they are not alone.

You mean they went with one of those senior tour buses? Please tell me it isn’t so... not Brenda.

This conversation was getting weirder and weirder. In my effort to cheer up Kassandra I was getting myself into a subject I’d rather avoid. Bob Clarke went with them.

Clarke as in Officer Clarke? Oh, you don’t say. I sense a threesome happening. Weren’t Brenda and Clarke an item way back?

No, never. Seriously, Kassandra, not funny. Plus, the widow across the street from Brenda’s house is with them, and I’m sure she’s dating Clarke. That’s it, end of subject. And please keep all this to yourself.

She shrugged, but I could tell she was getting a kick out of my frustration. What happened to us? We used to have such a good time together. Maybe we let too many weeks go by and we were both frustrated? By what?

So, who is taking care of Dior? she asked out of the blue.

I am. I turned west onto Glendale Avenue, somehow regretting dragging Kassandra along. I dropped the big goof off at the doggie spa. He’s the only Great Dane, and he gets all the attention. I’ll pick him up at three p.m. Here we go. Another left turn into 8th Place. The For Sale sign had been removed from the front yard, and it looked like both the garage and the front entry had new doors. Greg Coste didn’t waste any time. I liked that. I pulled up into the driveway.

He did a lot of cleaning up already, I said.

Kassandra got out of the SUV and stretched. Being so tall she would be perfect for the SUV. Maybe she should buy it and get rid of her beat-up, piece of junk Kia.

This stretch of 8th Place was quiet, perfect for a senior assisted living facility.

Okay, let’s take a quick look inside. I don’t see any activity. I’m assuming the workers have left for the day. I searched for the keys Greg had given me and went to unlock the brand-new, shiny front door.

A smell of fresh paint wafted from the vestibule that had been widened to easily accommodate a wheelchair. Kassandra was right behind me, and since she hadn’t seen the before she couldn’t appreciate the new look. An added wall separated part of the living room from the entrance. Come on, I’ll show you around, I said to Kassandra.

What was that?

What was what? she asked. I didn’t hear anything.

Just then something slammed somewhere toward the side of the house where you could access the spacious backyard. The noise wasn’t very loud, more like the wumpth of a cabinet door closed in a hurry.

Hellooo! I felt compelled to call out. After all, this was Arizona where everyone and their sister owned a gun... and knew how to use it, according to the media. The moment we cleared the corner we could see the flap of a large doggie door closing with a thud or trying to. Something kept it from closing properly, I rushed over and bent down, it was a small shoe.

What? Where did this come from? I looked at it.

Hello, can I please have my shoe back? The voice came from the other side of the thick wall.

I was still studying the girl’s slip-on, it must have been blue once, but now it was a faded something else with lots of dirt on the sole. Kassandra didn’t hesitate, she unlocked the kitchen door, and the sunlight coming through was so bright, I blinked.

A commotion could be heard outside. I rushed to follow Kassandra’s footsteps.

Hey, I just want my shoe. Let me down. Please? Kassandra held up a little girl. I guessed five or six years old? She put her down, and the kid rushed toward me. She pulled on the shoe I had forgotten I was holding. It was definitely hers, as she wore the left one.

What were you doing in the house? I asked, not letting go of the shoe.

Keeping an eye on it, she said. I could swear she puffed her scrawny little chest while saying it. Uncle Greg asked me to. Her dark eyes locked into mine while I found myself opening and closing my mouth trying to find something intelligent to say.

Kassandra beat me to it. Uncle Greg, heh? How come he didn’t give you the keys?

What for? I don’t need the stinking keys. I’m the only one who fits into the doggie door. If I had keys and someone was to take them, they could get into the house. She shook her head and shoulder-length brownish hair in dire need of combing. I sensed a certain pride and found myself nodding like a robot.

Lina. The man’s voice came from someplace beyond where the fence separated the yard from the alley.

The little girl’s face turned ashen. She gave me a look I would never forget, like a drowning kitten, as she turned to where the voice called from.

Lina? Is that your name? I handed her the shoe. She tried putting it on while hopping around on her left foot.

Lina. Don’t make me come and get you. The tone wasn’t loud, more caged rage than unleashed anger. Lina still fought to get the shoe on, her hands too shaky to comply. If fear had a smell, the whole backyard would stink. I felt helpless, Kassandra walked over, got on her knees, and put Lina’s shoe on. Nothing was said. The kid scuttled toward the fence.

As the gate clanged close, I heard, Get in the damn house, and feet scrambling.

I looked at Kassandra, she seemed either fascinated or paralyzed, I couldn’t decide.

What was that all about? I asked.

Long silence. A door slammed somewhere. A sigh.

That, my dear, was the sick foreplay of a savage beating to follow the child’s homecoming.

I didn’t get the meaning right away, I stood there, pondering then I looked at Kassandra. Not just looked at her, I really saw her—the sorry face, ferocious eyes, the biting of the lips. Well, that dumped a fresh truckload of harrowing memories I thought I had forgotten. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and avoided my eyes.

TWO

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NO TALKING, NO RADIO. Only the humming of the engine and even that sounded loud. Disruptive even.

I kept my eyes on the road as a way of handling the deep sense of sadness lingering inside. Did it really happen? Wow.

I didn’t doubt Kassandra’s assumption of the brief, painful-to-watch, incident with the backyard neighbors. And I couldn’t brush aside what I read in Kassandra’s eyes as she explained.

Of all the people—she, with the loud mouth and the in-your-face attitude... carefree, non-apologetic Kassandra who claimed to be able to read anyone’s past, present, and future in her tarot cards.

Didn’t you say the property was to be an assisted living facility for seniors? Kassandra asked in the most normal tone of voice. Totally set me off kilter. I could never pull off the mood swings as she did.

Yes, it is, I answered, still staring straight ahead. Why?

Why? The brand new large doggie door? Unless Greg Coste is a pervert and the doggie door is to lure small humans? Careful to avoid saying