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Does one good turn deserve a murder?
Despite all her good intentions to focus on a healthy lifestyle and leave crime solving to the professionals, Andi Grace Scott has run right smack into another investigation--literally. Who’d have thought caring for stray cats and a healthy morning beach run could lead to murder?
Andi Grace has found another body and a young woman who needs help. Solving this puzzle will come with a cost. This time, catching the killer will require Andi Grace to confront her past relationships and truths about her deceased mother.
Author Bio: Former Kentucky pharmacist JACKIE LAYTON loves her new life in the Low Country. Walks on the beach and collecting shells are a few of her hobbies when she’s not writing.
Bag of Bones is the third book in Jackie’s new Low Country Dog Walker Mystery series. Jackie also enjoys hearing from readers. Be sure to follow her on Facebook.
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Chapter One
FOR YEARS I’D been Andi Grace Scott,
lover of Cokes, coffee, and chocolate. Fast food was my favorite kind of
supper. I knew how to prepare simple meals like hot dogs or grilled cheese
sandwiches. I could even toss a salad. But fast food had kept me alive.
Now? My feet
pounded on the beach near the water where the sand was firm. Perspiration beaded
my hairline despite the briskness. I had become a runner. Me. A runner.
How had Marc
Williams, the oh-so-handsome attorney, persuaded me to take up running? The man
had a way of convincing me to make healthy choices, so I shouldn’t complain.
This was a better cardio workout than walking dogs and solving murders—not that
I planned to investigate any more murders. From now on my attention would be
firmly focused on the beauty around me.
Orange, purple,
and gray streaks stretched across the horizon. Puddles mirrored the white
clouds floating in the morning sky. A recreational boat zoomed by. If they’d
been out fishing all night, they would’ve needed to bundle up. The wind had a
cool bite on this first Monday morning in March.
I breathed in
through my nose and out my mouth and tried to ignore the stitch in my side. The
muscles in my calves tightened. Maybe ignoring the pain would keep the leg
cramps at bay.
If I complained,
Marc would argue I should’ve drunk more water and stretched longer. As an
attorney, the man knew how to state his case. He’d be right, of course. My
pre-run time had been spent savoring my first cup of coffee. I’d never give up
my morning cup of java.
Sand stuck to my
damp legs, but I kept running.
Marc slowed his
pace to match mine, and his dog Chubb ran at his side. "You’re doing great,
Andi Grace.”
"How’d you talk
me into running so early?” I tried for annoyed, but the morning’s beauty made
it impossible to be grumpy. The company wasn’t bad either.
"It’s good for
our metabolisms.” Marc grinned.
I gulped for air
but didn’t stop because I didn’t want to disappoint Marc. My German shepherd,
Sunny, ran at my side with her ears perked up like little radars. Her head
turned from side to side, watching for danger or unexpected surprises like a wandering
ghost crab or a cannonball jellyfish. "What’s your day look like?”
"I’ve got a
contract dispute this morning and two new clients this afternoon. How about
you?” His words flowed with ease, and he didn’t appear a bit winded.
"Can’t talk.”
Pain stabbed below my ribs, and I slowed while clutching my side.
"Okay, I’ll
talk. Since your old boyfriend, Danny, decided to run for state representative,
he’s been a doozy to deal with.” Marc’s fists clenched at chest level instead
of their normal relaxed position and gentle swing. "Do you suppose he heard we
started dating and is gunning for me for personal reasons?”
"Danny Nichols
doesn’t care one bit about me.” I huffed. Interesting to see Marc frustrated by
Danny.
"He and his
family decided to drop their fight with you over Peter’s will. It’s possible he
cares more than you suspect.”
A solid black
cat sitting on a beach house’s wooden walkway scratched behind his ear. I
tensed, expecting chaos, but the dogs were focused on the water and sand and
never noticed the feline.
Chubb chased the
water as it came onto land and rolled back to sea. The golden retriever was
almost a year old. He was lots of fun and smart as a tack, but he hadn’t
matured. Chubb made me laugh, while Sunny made me feel loved and protected. My
German shepherd had appeared at my house over twelve years earlier and had
never left me. Her maturity and loyalty were stellar. I loved both dogs. In
fact, I’d never met a dog I didn’t like.
Sunny barked and
sprinted to the large rock barrier ahead of us. So much for maturity. I
pointed. "Marc, did you see her run to the beach groin? She never runs off
without permission.”
"Yeah, she’s
supposed to exert a positive influence on Chubb.” He laughed.
"I know.”
Uneasiness settled over my shoulders. The air grew still. Another odd thing for
a March morning on the coast of South Carolina.
"Maybe she’s
reliving her youth. Hanging out with Chubb might not be a good thing for her.
He often leaves me on a whim.”
I shifted into a
jog until I reached the rigid rock structure a few hundred yards away. The
rocks had been engineered to trap sand and prevent beach erosion. But instead
of sand, the structure had prevented something larger from drifting away.
Sunny stood over
a woman’s body. Layers of clothes. All wet. No movement. My feet halted their
movement. My lungs froze. No. This couldn’t be happening again, but the
coloring and texture of the woman’s skin warned me she wasn’t alive. "It’s the
cat lady.” My words came out in a whisper, my mouth suddenly dry.
"Aw, man.” Marc
yanked off his ball cap and ran a hand through his thick blond hair. "Tabby
Malkin was one of my first clients at the law firm. I know people around here
think she’s strange, but she’s—she was—a real sweetheart. Even though I was a
stranger to her, she trusted me to handle her affairs.” Marc removed his phone
from the pocket of his mid-thigh running shorts. "I’ll call the sheriff.”
Sunny paced then
laid down beside Tabby on the beach.
I stooped to
check for the woman’s pulse, in case she was alive, then I stopped. Sightless
eyes looked skyward, unable to distinguish a white seagull from a brown
pelican. What was the last thing she’d seen? One of her beloved cats? Tears
welled in my eyes. Locals had nicknamed Tabby the cat lady because she
walked the beaches and island streets with two bowls, a jug of milk, and cat
kibble. If she spied a feral cat, she fed it. The woman hadn’t lived in the
area for long, but in a small town, it didn’t take long to get noticed. I’d
never taken time to ask if Tabby was her real name or if she’d started calling
herself Tabby because she loved cats. Although maybe her love of cats came
because she’d been named Tabby.
There’d be no
more opportunities to ask her now. A tear slipped down my face, and I
shouldered it away.
My stomach
churned at the sight of the poor woman. Was her death a tragic accident or
something sinister? I gazed at a fluffy white cloud on the horizon then back to
Tabby. I didn’t believe her death was an accident.
Tabby’s body was
sandy and wet but not bloated, making me think she’d been killed on the beach.
Moisture in the air might have contributed to some of the wetness, but more
likely the tide had washed over her body. Being this far up on the beach had
probably prevented the body from washing out to sea.
We stood near
the meandering high tide line, where little bits of driftwood, drying seaweed,
and scattered shells marked how high the ocean had come on land.
I wrapped my
arms around my stomach. There were no obvious gunshot wounds, at least not on the
front of her body. What had happened to Tabby? Had she tripped and hit her head
on the boulders making up the beach’s protective structure?
She wore baggy
black sweatpants, a gray T-shirt, and a long-sleeved denim button-up. The shirt
was torn at the shoulder. A black high-top Converse sneaker covered one foot,
but the other foot was bare.
Chubb barked and
jumped over the short end of the rock groin near the sand dune. His long legs
aided his quick departure.
Marc cupped his
hands around his mouth. "Chubb! Come back.”
I sighed. "You
better go after him. I’ll stay with Tabby.”
"Sure you don’t
mind?”
"Go.” It was the
only word I could squeeze out.
Marc ran after
his dog while holding the phone to his ear.
The stitch in my
side eased, but the dead woman hurt my soul. We had something in common. Both
of us loved animals. She focused on cats, providing food and milk to the
felines on the island while allowing them to be free. Canines claimed my
attention. If I found a dog, I always matched him with an owner. Different
animals, different methods, but we both loved the abandoned animals around
Heyward Beach. My throat grew tight.
I couldn’t peer
at the woman any longer, so I turned my focus toward Marc and his dog. Chubb
stopped along a sand dune and dug with his front paws. Sand flew through the
air. Marc backed away and spoke into the phone. The golden retriever continued
his mission until Marc snapped the leash on Chubb’s harness and led him back to
me.
Three cigarette
butts floated in a sandy tidal pool a few feet from Tabby’s head. I’d never
seen the woman smoke, but some people hid the habit.
Sirens wailed
from the west while waves pounded the shore.
Sunny stood and
approached me, stopping to stand by my side.
I rubbed her
back. "Oh, girl, I’m so sorry you had to see Tabby like this.” It wasn’t the
first time I’d come across a dead body, but my German shepherd hadn’t been
around when I found Peter Roth or Corey Lane. "It sure doesn’t get any easier.”
Marc and Chubb
joined us near the line of rocks where Tabby lay.
Marc raised his
eyebrows. With one hand he held the phone, the leash in his other hand. "Are
you okay?”
My mouth
quivered. "Yeah. Did you ever see Tabby smoke?”
"She wasn’t a
smoker. After her accident in Dallas, she became obsessive about her health.”
Whoop. Whoop. Tires screeched and the siren ended.
Sheriff Wade
Stone and Deputy David Wayne ran to us from the nearest public entrance.
Marc reported
their appearance to the emergency operator then disconnected and slid the phone
into the pocket of his running shorts.
Chubb threw his
head back and howled.
"Quiet, boy.”
Marc knelt and wrapped his arms around Chubb.
David reached us
first, glanced at the corpse, and turned his attention to Marc and me. "Did you
touch anything?”
"I’ve learned my
lesson.” I raised my hands and stepped back.
The sheriff
stopped beside his deputy. "Call the coroner and cordon off the area, David.”
"Yes, sir.”
David stepped away then turned back. "I left a message with the police chief
but haven’t heard back yet.”
Wade nodded. "They’re
tied up with a gas station robbery. We’re in charge for now.”
Marc stood and
turned his hat backward. "Wade, I’ve got to be in court this morning. Can we
give you our statements soon, or should I try to contact the judge?”
The sheriff dug
a little notepad out of his shirt pocket. "Consider this a preliminary
interview, but I need to speak to each of you separately. I may have more
questions later. Who first?”
"Andi Grace, you
go ahead.” Marc reached for Sunny’s leash and attached it to her harness. Our
hands touched, and tingles danced up my arm.
Every day I made
decisions about my life and business. For years I’d stood on my own two feet,
but when it came to the law, I appreciated Marc’s support. The sheriff had
grown up in the area and even attended high school with me. Still, I didn’t
want to give him a reason to arrest me—again.
Wade clicked his
pen. "Andi Grace, tell me what happened.”
I took a deep
breath and silently counted to ten in French as I exhaled. What details could I
report? "There’s not a lot to tell. Marc and I were running with the dogs, and
we found Tabby’s body. End of story. Where’s your Toughbook?” After two murders
in Heyward Beach, I’d learned the sheriff liked to use his small computer when
solving crimes.
"At the office.
It’s too sandy out here to risk destroying the thing. Is there anything else
you remember?”
"We passed a few
other runners, but they were dressed in athletic gear. Nobody looked
suspicious. There was a boat out on the water.” I crossed my arms. "I feel like
Tabby might have been killed on the beach. I’ve been watching crime shows, and
her body isn’t bloated. Dirty, yes, but not ruined by the salt water. Although
I do think the tide reached her body.”
Wade shook his
head. "You’re not investigating Tabby’s death, but for kicks, explain your
theory to me.”
"I didn’t spot
blood on the stones, and one shoe is missing.” I pointed to the structure
designed to protect the shore from erosion and to trap sand. Not to ensnare
dead bodies. "It’d be easy to imagine she slipped and struck her head on the
boulders, but maybe she was killed in the sand. It’s possible her body drifted
to the groin and stopped there, or she could’ve been dragged so we’d believe
she’d fallen. Depending on when she was killed, the tide would wash away the
drag marks and footprints.”
"Duly noted. Do
you need to tell me anything else?”
I racked my
brain but came up empty. "No, that’s all.”
"Good. I want to
make sure we’re on the same page. We’ll investigate and determine if Tabby
Malkin’s death was an accident or murder.” He pointed his pencil at me. "Are we
clear?”
"Yes.” I
wouldn’t argue and try to defend my past actions. "You’re the sheriff, and your
department plans to solve the murder.”
"First, we’ll
determine how she died.” He ran a hand over his face. "I’ll talk to Marc now.”
I jogged to
where Marc stood near the water with the dogs. Sunny and Chubb stood obediently
on each side of his body, with eyes fixed on the crime scene. I rubbed each one
on the head. "Marc, it’s your turn to answer questions. I’ll take the dogs.”
Marc handed over
the leashes. "Stay close.”
"Why?” My voice
squeaked.
"I know the
place will soon be crawling with law enforcement, but stay alert. If Tabby was
murdered, the killer could be lurking behind the dunes or on rental property
along the beach.”
"Okay. We’ll be right around here.” Aha, so I wasn’t
the only person suspicious about Tabby’s death. I’d much rather it be natural
causes, but the churning deep in my belly told me something different.
