Free This Little Piggy Went to Murder by Ellen Hart Page B

ordinary.”
     
    She laughed. “Funny, you know there was a guy there I wouldn’t have expected to see in a place like that. He was talking kinda intense to some woman at a table in the back.”
     
    “Do you know his name?”
     
    “Sure do. It was Lars Olson. You know him? He used to be chancellor at the university. I was a secretary in the administration department. Before he left to go work for that shipping company, I saw him just about every day. A real jerk.”
     
    “Why do you say that?”
     
    She snorted. “Ask any woman under the age of sixty who ever worked with him. That randy asshole hit on everyone with a pulse. He was just about to get around to me when he quit. Lucky for him. I’m not the silent type. The powers that be would have gotten an earful. And such a scrawny little bastard, too.”
     
    “Who was he talking to?”
     
    “Beats me.”
     
    “Can you describe her?”
     
    Dolores thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Slim. She had something around her head so I didn’t get a very good look at her. Sorry. They talked for a while and then they both left together.”
     
    The dog began to snore.
     
    “I suppose you know that Lars Olson was murdered on Thursday night.”
     
    She nodded. “Saw it in the Duluth paper. Can’t say that I found it a tragic loss. It is kinda funny though. I mean, I saw him twice that day.”
     
    “Really? When was this other time?”
     
    “Later the same night. Yup. Just like I told the guy on the phone. I went home for dinner about six, but was still so depressed about being canned that I grabbed Ducky Darling and headed back to the Mudlark. By the time Olson came in it must have been close to ten. I was pretty blitzed by then, but I couldn’t help notice that he seemed to be waiting for someone. He stood at the bar and ordered several drinks, but he kept looking at his watch and then over at the door. By eleven I’d decided to call it a night. Since it was apparent to everyone there that I was in no shape to drive, Jerry, the owner’s son, offered me a lift back here. I do seem to remember seeing Olson get into a car about the same time I was leaving.”
     
    “Was it his own?”
     
    “I don’t think so. His car was still in the parking lot the next morning. And anyway, someone else was driving.”
     
    “Can you describe that person? Or the make of car?”
     
    She shook her head. “Sorry I can’t be more helpful. My mind was a little too foggy.”
     
    “Do you think the young man who took you home might have seen anything?”
     
    Ducky Darling flipped over on her back and continued to snore, her nose twitching sporadically.
     
    “He couldn’t have. I was standing on the deck when Lars came past. He bumped into me and never even excused himself. I remember that much. God, he was an arrogant asshole. With that thin little mustache and his slicked-back, greasy black hair, he looked like a silent movie villain. He said it was natural, too — the hair color. Just like Ronald Reagan,” She snorted at the comparison. “Anyway, getting back to Thursday night, it’s all pretty blurry. Jerry was around the side getting his car. He couldn’t have seen anything.” Dolores began rubbing the dog’s tummy. “I suppose the police are going to want to talk to me.”
     
    Sophie nodded. “I would think so. You may have seen Olson get into the car with the same person who later murdered him.”
     
    Dolores’s hand stopped its rubbing motion. Ducky Darling’s eyes glazed over with pleasure.
     
    Sophie glanced up at Dolores just as her last words seemed to sink in. Hadn’t she already come to the same conclusion? By her reaction, it would appear not. But was that it? The note Sophie had found on her car last night apparently did have something to do with Olson’s death. But why had someone tipped her off about this woman? The police would find out about her soon enough, so what was the point? It didn’t make sense.
     
    “I think I should