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    Death Goes To The Dogs: Lizzie Crenshaw Mystery, #4
    Death Goes To The Dogs: Lizzie Crenshaw Mystery, #4
    Death Goes To The Dogs: Lizzie Crenshaw Mystery, #4
    Ebook91 pages1 hour

    Death Goes To The Dogs: Lizzie Crenshaw Mystery, #4

    By Teresa Watson

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    As the town of Brookdale gets ready for a benefit to raise money for the local shelter, someone kills the owner of the shelter. But was she the intended target or was it one of her co-workers? Lizzie Crenshaw somehow ends up in the middle of the investigation, and is nearly killed herself when the killer strikes again. With the help of Babe, her bloodhound, and Mittens, the victim's Maltese, Lizzie goes after the killer...but learns there may be more than one. Can she and the dogs catch them before it is too late?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTeresa Watson
    Release dateNov 4, 2014
    ISBN9781502200501
    Death Goes To The Dogs: Lizzie Crenshaw Mystery, #4

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      Book preview

      Death Goes To The Dogs - Teresa Watson

      Chapter One

      Friday night, 11:30 p.m.

      The man sat in the car, nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Glancing at his watch, he peered into the darkness, wondering what was taking Al so long. They had cased the place for two weeks; they knew who stayed late, who left early, and who stayed all night. All he had to do was slip in, do the job, and slip back out. Five minutes tops.

      He wished he hadn’t quit smoking. The waiting was making him antsy. A cigarette would calm his nerves right now. This was an important job, and if they screwed it up, their boss would kill them.

      Literally.

      Al finally showed up, walking quickly toward the car. He got in and closed the door.

      Well?

      Well what? Al said.

      Everything taken care of in there?

      Absolutely...I think.

      What do you mean, you think?

      I couldn’t find my tool, so I used whatever was handy.

      The man groaned. How could you forget it? I asked you before we left the hotel if you had everything you needed, and you said yes.

      I thought I did!

      The man slammed his palm of his hand against the steering wheel and cursed. Did you do it or not?

      I’m pretty sure I did.

      You didn’t make sure before you left? God, you’re an idiot! the man said, pulling a pair of gloves out of his pocket. Stay put. I’ll be right back.

      Al watched as the man disappeared into the darkness. They had parked two blocks away from their intended target so they wouldn’t have to speed off and draw unwanted attention.

      He hadn’t wanted to come on this job in the first place, but his boss had insisted. You need to get your feet wet, the boss had told him. No free rides just because you’re my sister’s kid. And no screw ups this time! Al couldn’t blame him for being upset about the accident that happened on his first assignment. On the other hand, it really wasn’t his fault. That bike messenger had come out of nowhere, knocking his boss’ wife into traffic, where she got clipped by a taxi. She only had to wear that cast for two months.

      Al didn’t want to get into the family business, but every other job he had tried...well, let’s just say they all ended the same way. He always got fired.

      The driver’s side door opened and the man got in. He glared at Al as he ripped off his gloves. You’re a moron, you know that? A complete moron.

      What’s wrong? I finished the job, didn’t I?

      Oh yeah, you finished what you started.

      Al breathed a sigh of relief.

      There’s just one problem.

      What’s that?

      You killed the wrong person! the man yelled as he smacked Al upside the head with his gloves.

      Chapter Two

      Friday morning, fourteen hours earlier

      I parked the pistachio green monstrosity I had been driving for the last month and a half, ever since my mother had confiscated my car. It wasn’t my fault that her car was accidentally blown up; after all, it was her half-sister, Debra Cosgrove, who wired an FBI agent’s truck with explosives. Mother’s car just happened to be there because I was trying to help the aforementioned FBI agent, who was tied to a tree not far from the booby-trapped truck. All I got out of the deal was a broken arm and a bullet in the leg a couple of days later. It’s complicated.

      A car wasn’t the only thing I lost. I also lost my boyfriend, T.J. Reynolds, whose real name was Thomas Jefferson Roosevelt, and who turned out to be an undercover agent. He was using me to keep tabs on Debra, hoping to get valuable information that would help the FBI catch her. I hadn’t heard from him since I had been released from the hospital, and quite frankly, I didn’t care if I ever saw him again.

      Anyway, I was stuck with the truck for transportation. The trees in the park would provide enough shade for Babe, who was coming with me to an interview I had to do with Kathy Lowdermilk, the owner of the Crazy Paws Rescue Shelter. There was going to be a benefit dinner and auction held at the high school gym on Saturday night to raise money for food, vet care, and other things for the shelter.

      I rolled the windows down in the truck, gave Babe a hug, grabbed my laptop bag and headed for the Eat it or Starve café. To be honest, I hadn’t been to the café much since the news got out about T.J. I knew Gladys would gloat, and I had been miserable enough the last month and a half; I didn’t need her to add to my misery.

      Taking a deep breath, I opened the door of the café and walked in. The usual breakfast crowd was there, but I didn’t see Gladys. I breathed a sigh of relief and headed for a booth in the back, hoping people would leave me alone. I slid into the booth, placed my laptop bag on top of the table, and grabbed a menu.

      Well, well, look who’s here.

      At the sound of Gladys’ voice, I cringed and fought an overwhelming urge to grab my bag and run for the door. Hello, Gladys, I said, forcing a smile on my face. How are you today?

      Gladys slid into the bench across from me. Where have you been hiding?

      I’ve been at home, recovering from my injuries. It takes time to recover from a gunshot wound.

      Hmphf, she replied. I know for a fact you got a clean bill of health from the doctor two weeks ago. Afraid to come in here and face everyone?

      I bit back a rude comment. What makes you think that?

      Gladys looked around the room, and I followed her gaze. Everyone in the room was staring at us. Great, breakfast and a floor show. She leaned forward. I just want you to know, she said quietly, that I truly am sorry for what happened with you and your young man. I think what he did to you was unforgiveable. She patted my hand.

      I was speechless. Thank you, Gladys, I managed to say, that means a lot. Does everyone feel the same way?

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