Free Murder Unleashed by Elaine Viets Page A

shirt looked like he’d picked it up off the floor. Jeff hadn’t bothered dressing Lulu that morning. The store’s top model looked oddly naked in her own fur coat.
    Jeff sat at the counter with his head in his hands, an extra-large coffee beside him. Helen said good morning. He grunted. She didn’t ask if the police had talked to him about Tammie. She knew that answer.
    Only Todd looked sleek and cheerful. He came out of the back room carrying bags of dog food, his chest and arm muscles bulging against his white T-shirt. He had a bandage on his neck. Was this the site of Jonathon’s alleged attack?
    “Did you hear the news, Helen?” Todd said. “Jonathon is at the police station. The detectives are questioning him about Tammie’s murder.”
    “This is a disaster, personally and professionally,” Jeff said. “Jonathon is my top groomer.”
    She could see Todd grip the dog-food bags until they crackled in protest. Jeff must be upset if he didn’t try to soothe Todd’s feelings. He was always so diplomatic.
    “The police say he killed her with his grooming scissors,” Todd said.
    “They didn’t say anything like that,” Jeff snapped. “The detectives asked a lot of questions about some grooming scissors. I think they were found at the scene.”
    “Any fingerprints on the scissors?” Helen asked.
    “They won’t say,” Jeff said.
    “But they did say Jonathon was missing a pair of ten-inch scissors from his case,” Todd said. This time he didn’t hide the sly smile.
    “Anyone could have swiped them,” Jeff said. “This place was a zoo Saturday.”
    “Well, there you are,” Helen said. “Besides, Jonathon doesn’t have a history of violence, does he?”
    She waited for Jeff to say no. Instead there was silence.
    “Jeff?” Helen said.
    Jeff talked into his coffee cup. “I’ve heard rumors that Jonathon killed a man in self-defense. This was twenty years ago, when he was first starting out. The way I heard it, Jonathon was walking home from a grooming salon in Miami, and a couple of men decided to amuse themselves by rolling queers. They attacked him and beat him up pretty badly. But Jonathon knew how to defend himself. He killed one attacker and the other ran away. No charges were filed.”
    “Jonathon actually beat a man to death?” Helen said.
    “No,” Jeff said. “They say Jonathon stabbed him. With grooming scissors.”

CHAPTER 8
    A n anguished cry came from the grooming-room cages. This wasn’t some spoiled poodle demanding a pat. It was the sound of heartbreak. Helen recognized it.
    “That’s Prince,” she said. “Tammie’s Yorkie. He’s crying for his mistress.”
    The little dog with the shrewd eyes and the silly bow had howled out his grief all morning.
    “I’m sure Tammie’s husband has forgotten about him,” Jeff said. “Lord knows that poor man has enough on his mind. I’ll give Kent a call on his cell phone and find out when we can deliver the Yorkie. Helen, why don’t you get on the extension? You’re doing the driving. He may have special instructions.”
    This was a phone call Helen didn’t want to miss. She wondered if Kent knew that the Yorkie’s groomer was a suspect in his wife’s murder. She had to hear how Jeff the diplomat would handle this situation.
    Kent Grimsby answered on the second ring. “I’m so sorry about Tammie,” Jeff said.
    “Yeah,” Kent said. “That fingerprint powder leaves a real mess. It’s everywhere. The cops still have the whole place sealed off as a crime scene. I couldn’t spend the night in my own freakin’ house. I had to sleep in a hotel. I couldn’t use my pool this morning. They won’t even let me get my own clothes. I called my lawyer and he chewed the chief’s ass. Now they’re saying I can get back in tomorrow. Can you believe it?”
    The selfish twit. He never mentioned his dead wife, Helen thought.
    “It must be horrible,” Jeff said. “I’m sure you’ve forgotten in the confusion”—he was too