Dog Kisses and Danger: Heywood Hounds Cozy Mysteries, #6

CHAPTER 1

It wasn’t that I was angry with Maribeth Quince, an election ballot counter, for dropping dead on election day.

Of course not. I felt terrible for the woman. Found lying on the floor in the dingy basement of City Hall surrounded by stacks of ballots that needed to be counted—what a terrible way to go.

Okay, I was a little angry. It really put a crimp into my boyfriend, Trevor’s, bid for sheriff. And I thought it was going to be smooth sailing into the top seat of the department after exposing Sheriff Mallory Richards and her corruption. But not only had a good old boy named Shane Sheridan from the Phoenix area decided to jump into the race, the ballot counter had died at a very inopportune time.

After they’d discovered her body, the election had been shut down. No one knew when voting would begin again. Would they keep the ballots that had been tabulated, or would they start fresh with a blank slate?

Shane Sheridan never missed a beat in his campaigning after the death. He continued to hand out his Sheridan for Sheriff t-shirts and shoot the bull with everyone in town. Word on the street was that he offered to pay for Maribeth’s funeral expenses. If that wasn’t an attempt to buy votes via goodwill, I’m not sure what qualified. Maybe if he’d kept his offer on the downlow, I wouldn’t have had such a problem with it. But no, he made sure everyone in town knew his intentions.

Trevor and I didn’t have the luxury of funding funerals or handing out t-shirts. We had to work. We weren’t made of money like Sheridan, and frankly, we were exhausted from the months of campaigning we’d done before the now-defunct election.

I can’t believe she died like that, I said. I sat on the couch with my talking dog, Daisy, staring at a blank television screen. Maribeth Quince had been dead five days, and I still couldn’t get over it. The latest gossip in town was about one of the workers at the grocery store having an affair with someone who worked at the recycling plant. Both were married. If the rumor was true, then I guessed both marriages would be over very soon. But even that juicy story couldn’t take my focus off Maribeth’s death.

You’ve said that like a billion times! Daisy yelled. Can we please stop talking about poor Maribeth? In fact, I’m going to the bedroom. She jumped from the couch. That’s the no-Maribeth zone, Gina. You’re not allowed to say her name in the bedroom.

We’d just returned from the nail shop where I’d had a full schedule, and I was mentally exhausted from chit-chatting all day. Trevor had left the prior morning for his security job in Phoenix. Thankfully, he hadn’t quit like I’d wanted him to. My son, Jacob, was at his fall semester of college, so I was alone. With my vile mood, it was probably a good thing. I wasn’t fit for human interactions.

With a sigh, I rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen to wash up last night’s dishes.

Just as I dried the last pot while debating on whether I should go to bed early or work on my latest ghost-writing project, a knock sounded at my door. Daisy raced down the hall barking loudly, which translated into something like, I’m going to chew off your face!, which I knew was a total lie. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body. And if by chance there was a threat at the door, she’d be the first one out of the house.

I glanced out the front window before answering. The acting Sheriff, Nico, stood on my porch. Furrowing my brow, I hurried over to the door and swung it open. Nico? What are you doing here?

Can I come in? he asked. Short and stalky with brown hair wearing a wrinkled sheriff’s uniform, heavy purple rings hung under his hazel eyes. For a second, I worried he’d pass out on my doorstep.

I nodded and stepped to the side while Daisy sniffed his boots. What’s up? I asked, shutting the door and motioning him into the living room.

Is Trevor around?

I shook my head. He left for Phoenix yesterday. Do you have any news on when the election will resume?

His shoulders sagged as he sat down on the couch with a groan. Right now, that’s the least of my problems. I really don’t want to be sheriff anymore.

Why is that?

I agreed to step in until the election, and now everything’s up in the air because of Maribeth’s death. It seems no one at City Hall knows what to do. An election has never been called off because someone died.

Maybe we should just hold a new one? Or just tell everyone that on this date, we’re going to resume the voting?

That’s a bunch of legal stuff I don’t know or care about, he replied. Someone smarter than me needs to figure that out. Besides, I’ve got bigger problems.

What’s that?

I couldn’t imagine a bigger problem than an incomplete election, but I was biased. I wanted Trevor to hold the title of Sheriff of Heywood.

Maribeth was killed, he said. She didn’t just die.

My mouth fell open with a gasp. "What?!"

He leaned against the cushions and shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he met my gaze. Like I just said, she was killed.

It took a moment for me to clamp my jaws back together. I certainly hadn’t expected this twist of events. How did she die? There hasn’t been any news about a murder!

If there had been, I’d have heard about it. Or so I thought.

It was sneaky, and if I wasn’t diabetic, I probably would’ve thought she died of natural causes, but I got word today that she didn’t.

Start at the beginning, Nico. I was there, but I didn’t see anything.

Right. So, Maribeth was downstairs at City Hall. That’s where they count the ballots. As people voted upstairs, the poll workers would pack them in stacks of twenty-five, then run them downstairs for Maribeth and David Jackson to tally.

David Jackson… doesn’t he work in City Hall?

"Yes. He’s in the finance department. Actually, he is the finance department. Helps with the budget and pays Heywood’s bills. He’s also been anointed a ballot counter." 

Okay, go on.

Well, when Maribeth died, she was alone. Very sad, if you ask me. David Jackson said he’d run upstairs to his office to make a quick phone call. Apparently, cell service is pretty bad down in the basement.

I take it there wasn’t any blood or anything at the scene, I said.

No. Just Maribeth, lying on the floor.

How did you discover that she was killed?

I was ready to call it a natural death, and I like I said, if I wasn’t diabetic, I wouldn’t have caught the murder weapon.

What was it?

A glass of orange juice.

I tried to put the pieces together. How did a glass of orange juice kill someone? I’m not following you, Nico.

I picked up the glass of orange juice right after the EMTs had gone, and I smelled insulin.

Insulin?

Yes. I have to take it daily and it’s got a sweet smell to it. A lot of people say theirs smells like band aids. Others say antiseptic or a hospital. Personally, I think it depends on the kind of insulin a person takes. Mine smells sweet.

Someone put insulin into Maribeth’s orange juice?

Exactly. I had it tested, and it came back positive with a motherload of insulin. I also asked Maribeth’s husband if she was diabetic, and he said she was. Too much insulin will kill a diabetic.

Hang on a sec, I muttered. I stood and hurried into the kitchen to fetch a pad of paper and a pen.

I returned and began taking notes.

You said she was working with David Jackson, I said, scribbling down the information, trying to figure out from where I knew the name. What’s her husband’s name?

Harold Quince.

After writing down his name, I placed my notebook on the table, feeling a little silly. I wasn’t going to get involved in discovering who’d killed Maribeth. No need for notes. Doesn’t City Hall have cameras? They should’ve caught who was going downstairs to the basement.

That’s the thing, Gina. There were cameras, but they were disabled that morning. Whoever killed her knew their way around City Hall. They cut the camera line.

Gina, are we going to find out who killed Maribeth? Daisy asked. She’d been quiet, her gaze bouncing from me to Nico.

Ignoring her, I asked, Who would want her dead?

I’m not sure, Nico said, running a hand through his thick brown hair. Do I look at personal connections, or do I take the investigation into another direction?

I would think this murder would be personal, I said. What other reason is there to kill a ballot counter?

Maybe someone involved in the election didn’t like the way things were going, Nico replied, his gaze firmly on me. Perhaps someone killed the ballot counter to put a stop to the election they weren’t sure they were going to win in hopes of a do-over and more time to campaign.

As my blood seemed to turn to ice and goosebumps trailed over my skin, I stared at him. Was he actually insinuating that Trevor or I had something to do with Maribeth’s death because we didn’t like the way the election was going? I’m not sure I’m following you, I said, smiling. Let him spell it out for me.

I think he’s saying that you and Trevor murdered the ballot counter, Daisy interjected.

Glancing at her, I was now worried since she was thinking along the same lines as me.

Well, all I’m saying is that you were there, Trevor was there, and it’s no secret that neither of you are particularly happy about Shane Sheridan’s arrival on the scene and his run for sheriff.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How was it that I found myself connected to a murder? Again!

Shaking my head, I said, And Shane Sheridan was there. So was my neighbor across the street, Mr. Anderson, and about a hundred other people waiting in line.

Yes, you’re correct. But did those hundred other people have a reason to kill Maribeth?

With my hands shaking, I stood. I don’t know, Nico. I don’t know the deceased, so her personal life is a mystery to me. I think you need to leave.

Why? Are my questions making you nervous?

No! I shouted. They’re making me very, very angry, though! You can’t come into my house and accuse me of murdering someone!

Run, Nico, run! Daisy shouted while spinning around in circles. You’ve unleashed the beast! Get out while you still have your eyes in your head!

She wasn’t that far off. Between the allegations and my foul mood, I did feel like ripping out his eyes. I pointed to the front door. Get out.

Nico stared at me a long moment, then slowly stood. I’m not here to make enemies, Gina.

You’re doing a bad job of that, Daisy said.

Maybe you should’ve thought about it before accusing me of murder.

He shrugged. I had to ask to see your reaction.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I narrowed my gaze. Did my reaction meet your expectations?

I wasn’t sure what to expect.

You can leave now.

Can you just please hear me out?

My knee-jerk reaction was to get rid of him, but information was power. And if he thought Trevor or I had something to do with the murder, I’d need all the details I could get in order to prove our innocence.

Yes, I said, sitting down again. I want to hear exactly why you think Trevor or I may be responsible for that poor woman’s death.

CHAPTER 2

Here’s what I have, Nico said, also taking a seat. He held up one finger. Number one, I have witnesses saying that Trevor stepped out of the voting line and was gone for a long time.

Who told you that? I asked.

It doesn’t matter, Nico said. A witness reported him leaving the line and being gone for a while.

He went to the restroom, I said.

And he always takes a long time when he has to go number two, Daisy interjected. I decided to leave out that detail.

The restroom is right by the stairs that lead down to the basement, Nico continued, holding up a second finger.

So, what happened? I asked. Trevor didn’t visit the restroom, magically produced some orange juice and insulin, then went downstairs and delivered it to Maribeth? Who then drank it? Where did he get the insulin and orange juice?

And that’s number three. From the kitchen area that’s also down that hallway, Nico said. The employees use it. Maribeth kept her insulin there.

My goodness. Trevor did make a good suspect.

Wasn’t Trevor upset about Shane Sheridan jumping into the race? Nico asked. After bringing down Mallory, he was a shoo-in, except for when Shane showed up and started charming everyone in town.

"He was upset,