Had something happened to her?
Cindy turned her head, and through the crowd of reporters she saw a line of yellow police tape and some uniformed officers.
“No,” she whispered, pushing her way forward. She had to know. The reporters pressed in harder against her, determined to get answers. She pushed back hard, and finally bodies began to give way. She broke free of the crowd and ran toward the barricade, where an officer grabbed her and stopped her from moving forward.
On the other side of the line, she saw the little dog, Ginger, pacing back and forth next to some huddled people. She felt her stomach lurch, and then her eyes fell on Ginger’s owner. The old woman was alive and talking with Paul, the detective.
She felt someone brush up against her, and a moment later Joseph called out. Paul looked up and then waved them through. Cindy slipped under the tape and was grateful that the reporters could not follow.
“What happened?” she burst out.
“Bernadette here found a body,” Paul said, scowling.
Cindy turned toward Bernadette. The old woman had clearly been crying. Her eyes were puffy and swollen. “Are you okay?”
Bernadette shook her head. “I knew something bad had happened to Sammy, I just knew it. I walked all around the theater looking for him and Buddy. I saw his hat first,” she said, pointing.
Cindy turned to look, and by a row of bushes an old battered hat was lying on the ground, a handful of crinkled bills still inside it. An investigator stood over a dark shape in the bushes, which Cindy realized must be Sammy.
“He’s dead?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
Bernadette nodded, and Joseph slipped an arm around her skinny shoulders. “I called 911 on my phone,” Bernadette continued. “It’s prepaid. Sammy gave it to me last year for emergencies. He always said to call 911 if I got in trouble or something bad happened. I never dreamed I’d be using it because something bad happened to him,” she said, fresh tears streaking down her cheeks.
Cindy looked away as a lump formed in her throat. She knew what it was like to see the body of someone you cared about, to be shocked by sudden, tragic death. Her eyes roved the crime scene looking for another familiar figure but didn’t find him.
Cindy turned to Paul. “Where’s Mark?”
“He had more pressing concerns today,” Paul said, grimacing.
She had no idea what could be more pressing, but she was sure she didn’t want to know. Her eyes drifted back to the dark figure in the bushes and to the forsaken hat on the pavement.
“It can’t have been a robbery. Otherwise they would have taken the money from the hat,” Cindy said.
“Thanks, but I think we already came to that conclusion ourselves,” Paul snapped.
“Are you okay?”
“No. Someone is dead. I’m never okay when faced with the destruction of human life. Also, unlike my partner, I don’t have much tolerance for amateur detectives.”
Cindy blinked at his brusque tone.
“I’m not an amateur detective. We talked to Bernadette before we went into the theater. I was afraid something had happened to her given what the reporters who mobbed us were saying.”
Paul muttered something under his breath that sounded unflattering to the reporters.
Meanwhile Bernadette was still crying and talking. “And I called and called, but there was no sign of Buddy.”
“His dog is missing?” Cindy asked sharply.
Bernadette nodded.
“Is it possible he ran away or Sammy left him someplace else?”
Bernadette shook her head and pointed toward the body.
Cindy looked and saw what she had missed earlier. There, in the pool of blood, were dog prints, much larger than any Ginger could have made. Whatever had happened to Buddy happened after Sammy was killed. “Another missing dog? And this one not one of Joseph’s puppies?”
“Yeah, yet funny that the dog was still connected to him. It was one of the ones adopted Friday night.”
And suddenly it
Cindy turned her head, and through the crowd of reporters she saw a line of yellow police tape and some uniformed officers.
“No,” she whispered, pushing her way forward. She had to know. The reporters pressed in harder against her, determined to get answers. She pushed back hard, and finally bodies began to give way. She broke free of the crowd and ran toward the barricade, where an officer grabbed her and stopped her from moving forward.
On the other side of the line, she saw the little dog, Ginger, pacing back and forth next to some huddled people. She felt her stomach lurch, and then her eyes fell on Ginger’s owner. The old woman was alive and talking with Paul, the detective.
She felt someone brush up against her, and a moment later Joseph called out. Paul looked up and then waved them through. Cindy slipped under the tape and was grateful that the reporters could not follow.
“What happened?” she burst out.
“Bernadette here found a body,” Paul said, scowling.
Cindy turned toward Bernadette. The old woman had clearly been crying. Her eyes were puffy and swollen. “Are you okay?”
Bernadette shook her head. “I knew something bad had happened to Sammy, I just knew it. I walked all around the theater looking for him and Buddy. I saw his hat first,” she said, pointing.
Cindy turned to look, and by a row of bushes an old battered hat was lying on the ground, a handful of crinkled bills still inside it. An investigator stood over a dark shape in the bushes, which Cindy realized must be Sammy.
“He’s dead?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
Bernadette nodded, and Joseph slipped an arm around her skinny shoulders. “I called 911 on my phone,” Bernadette continued. “It’s prepaid. Sammy gave it to me last year for emergencies. He always said to call 911 if I got in trouble or something bad happened. I never dreamed I’d be using it because something bad happened to him,” she said, fresh tears streaking down her cheeks.
Cindy looked away as a lump formed in her throat. She knew what it was like to see the body of someone you cared about, to be shocked by sudden, tragic death. Her eyes roved the crime scene looking for another familiar figure but didn’t find him.
Cindy turned to Paul. “Where’s Mark?”
“He had more pressing concerns today,” Paul said, grimacing.
She had no idea what could be more pressing, but she was sure she didn’t want to know. Her eyes drifted back to the dark figure in the bushes and to the forsaken hat on the pavement.
“It can’t have been a robbery. Otherwise they would have taken the money from the hat,” Cindy said.
“Thanks, but I think we already came to that conclusion ourselves,” Paul snapped.
“Are you okay?”
“No. Someone is dead. I’m never okay when faced with the destruction of human life. Also, unlike my partner, I don’t have much tolerance for amateur detectives.”
Cindy blinked at his brusque tone.
“I’m not an amateur detective. We talked to Bernadette before we went into the theater. I was afraid something had happened to her given what the reporters who mobbed us were saying.”
Paul muttered something under his breath that sounded unflattering to the reporters.
Meanwhile Bernadette was still crying and talking. “And I called and called, but there was no sign of Buddy.”
“His dog is missing?” Cindy asked sharply.
Bernadette nodded.
“Is it possible he ran away or Sammy left him someplace else?”
Bernadette shook her head and pointed toward the body.
Cindy looked and saw what she had missed earlier. There, in the pool of blood, were dog prints, much larger than any Ginger could have made. Whatever had happened to Buddy happened after Sammy was killed. “Another missing dog? And this one not one of Joseph’s puppies?”
“Yeah, yet funny that the dog was still connected to him. It was one of the ones adopted Friday night.”
And suddenly it
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