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Authors: Ellen Byron
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stunned. It was one thing to consider her a suspect, but quite another to drag in the rest of the Crozats. “She wasn’t dishing out anything that my family couldn’ttake,” she responded evenly. “And when it comes to Ginger, gossip can point a finger at a lot of people around here.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“I think finding that out is your job. You certainly wouldn’t want to hear the ramblings of an ‘amateur sleuth.’” Maggie stood up tall, claiming every inch of her five-foot-four-inch height. Even with the inch-plus heels on her black espadrilles, she was still only about a head taller than the sitting Perske. “I’ve told you everything I know about the circumstances of finding Mrs. Fleer-Starke. I need to help my mother with the puppies and kittens that we found. You have all my contact information if you need to talk to me again.”
Maggie marched off, feeling pretty proud of how she’d schooled the bully of a chief. She made her way to the B and B office, where her family was tending to the new arrivals. Ninette had commandeered one of Gopher’s beds for the animals and placed it inside Maggie’s old playpen; her parents’ sentimental attachment to it had proved fortuitous. The mama cat, looking full and sated, rested on the bed while her kittens nursed. Ninette, Tug, and Gran’ were feeding the hungry puppies with syringes. Gopher guarded the group so tightly that he even barked at his beloved Maggie’s approach. She reached down to pet him and massage one of his floor-length basset ears. “Good boy. You watch out for the little ones. Were y’all able to reach the vet?”
“The service tracked down Dr. Waguespack, and she’s sending over special formulas for puppies and kittens in the morning,” Ninette said as the pup in her lap suckedon the syringe. “We may not need the kitty formula, since Mama Cat seems to be responding to the food and drink we gave her. Since the pups are motherless, it appears they were feeding from her as well, which is another reason she was dehydrated. The doctor gave us instructions for making something called ‘glop,’ which will nourish them just fine until the puppy formula comes.”
“It smells kind of yummy. What’s in it?”
“Evaporated milk, Karo syrup, raw eggs, and gelatin, warmed up enough to go from custard to liquid.”
“I’d hold onto that recipe, Ninette,” Gran’ said. “Throw in some pecans and you’ve got a delicious pie.”
“Did you talk to Chief Perske?” Tug asked his daughter. “What did he tell you?”
“He didn’t say much. You know the police. They’re pretty tight-lipped until some facts start rolling in.” Maggie, who constantly feared that stress might bring on another bout of her mother’s cancer, opted not to mention that Perske had the Crozats in his crosshairs.
“I think Vanessa was in shock,” Ninette said. “I hope she’s all right.”
“That poor girl can’t seem to catch a break,” Gran’ commented.
Tug gave his mother an admonishing look. “A woman died, Mama. The term ‘catching a break’ doesn’t exactly seem appropriate.”
“My age allows me the occasional blunt observation,” Gran’ responded. “It’s very sad that Ginger died, but she wasa horror of a human being. And I dare anyone to deny that the timing of it couldn’t be worse for Vanessa.”
Maggie paced the room. She felt an overwhelming urge to resume an old habit of biting her nails, but since she’d recently trimmed them to facilitate her ability to draw, there was nothing to chew on. “I just hope the coroner’s report comes back fast.”
“So you think it might be . . .” Tug didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to.
The family fell silent for a moment. Then Ninette spoke. “Whatever happened to Ginger probably scared off the mama of these little ones. I feel terrible thinking that she might be out there looking for her babies. Maggie, why don’t you and your grandmother check
“Anyone in particular?”
“I think finding that out is your job. You certainly wouldn’t want to hear the ramblings of an ‘amateur sleuth.’” Maggie stood up tall, claiming every inch of her five-foot-four-inch height. Even with the inch-plus heels on her black espadrilles, she was still only about a head taller than the sitting Perske. “I’ve told you everything I know about the circumstances of finding Mrs. Fleer-Starke. I need to help my mother with the puppies and kittens that we found. You have all my contact information if you need to talk to me again.”
Maggie marched off, feeling pretty proud of how she’d schooled the bully of a chief. She made her way to the B and B office, where her family was tending to the new arrivals. Ninette had commandeered one of Gopher’s beds for the animals and placed it inside Maggie’s old playpen; her parents’ sentimental attachment to it had proved fortuitous. The mama cat, looking full and sated, rested on the bed while her kittens nursed. Ninette, Tug, and Gran’ were feeding the hungry puppies with syringes. Gopher guarded the group so tightly that he even barked at his beloved Maggie’s approach. She reached down to pet him and massage one of his floor-length basset ears. “Good boy. You watch out for the little ones. Were y’all able to reach the vet?”
“The service tracked down Dr. Waguespack, and she’s sending over special formulas for puppies and kittens in the morning,” Ninette said as the pup in her lap suckedon the syringe. “We may not need the kitty formula, since Mama Cat seems to be responding to the food and drink we gave her. Since the pups are motherless, it appears they were feeding from her as well, which is another reason she was dehydrated. The doctor gave us instructions for making something called ‘glop,’ which will nourish them just fine until the puppy formula comes.”
“It smells kind of yummy. What’s in it?”
“Evaporated milk, Karo syrup, raw eggs, and gelatin, warmed up enough to go from custard to liquid.”
“I’d hold onto that recipe, Ninette,” Gran’ said. “Throw in some pecans and you’ve got a delicious pie.”
“Did you talk to Chief Perske?” Tug asked his daughter. “What did he tell you?”
“He didn’t say much. You know the police. They’re pretty tight-lipped until some facts start rolling in.” Maggie, who constantly feared that stress might bring on another bout of her mother’s cancer, opted not to mention that Perske had the Crozats in his crosshairs.
“I think Vanessa was in shock,” Ninette said. “I hope she’s all right.”
“That poor girl can’t seem to catch a break,” Gran’ commented.
Tug gave his mother an admonishing look. “A woman died, Mama. The term ‘catching a break’ doesn’t exactly seem appropriate.”
“My age allows me the occasional blunt observation,” Gran’ responded. “It’s very sad that Ginger died, but she wasa horror of a human being. And I dare anyone to deny that the timing of it couldn’t be worse for Vanessa.”
Maggie paced the room. She felt an overwhelming urge to resume an old habit of biting her nails, but since she’d recently trimmed them to facilitate her ability to draw, there was nothing to chew on. “I just hope the coroner’s report comes back fast.”
“So you think it might be . . .” Tug didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to.
The family fell silent for a moment. Then Ninette spoke. “Whatever happened to Ginger probably scared off the mama of these little ones. I feel terrible thinking that she might be out there looking for her babies. Maggie, why don’t you and your grandmother check
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