♫Shot through the heart♫
♫And you're to blame♫
♫Baby, you give crime♫
♫A bad name!♫

High Stakes
Chapter 11

          Her words tumbled out like kibble from a freshly opened bag.  “Sinty!  Poor Sinty!” she wailed.  “She’s my best friend.  She works part time at the restaurant, and she was supposed to pick me up last night after work.  But she never showed up, so I walked home.  Then she didn’t come home last night and I was frantic.  I had to leave early for work this morning to help in the kitchen and when I got there…Oh!” she burst into tears and covered her eyes with her paws.
          I gave her a few moments to compose herself, then asked gently, “What did you see, Samantha?”
          “She…she…was on the floor, bleeding!  I ran to her and she was still breathing but I couldn’t wake her up.  I called the police and then I came straight here.”
          I sat in my chair and mulled over this new information.  By habit, I pulled out my pack of rawhide sticks and offered them around.  The ladies refused, but I took one and chewed while I reviewed the facts.
          “Was anyone else there yet?” I asked.
          “Not a soul,” Samantha replied.  “Bullet and his sous-chefs should be arriving about now.  I’ve been trying to come in early to make a good impression.  I’d like to be a chef someday,” she said, and despite her obvious distress, a note of pride had crept into her voice. 
          “Did you see anything that might have been used as a weapon?”
          Now Samantha sounded a bit ashamed as she said, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t know.  I might have blacked out or something.  All I remember is seeing Sinty on the floor, and then I might have screamed, and then I dialed 911 as I was running here.”  Her breath caught, and the tears welled up in her eyes again.  “Poor Sinty!”
          I rose from my seat and paced the room, chewing and thinking.  Morgan was tending to the weeping Samantha and my mind was racing as I formulated a plan.
          “First of all,” I announced, “Samantha, you need to speak to the police.  I’ll take you.  I have a friend on the force.  And Morgan, you need to put in your application at the restaurant right away.  It seems they have a part-time position available.”
          Morgan’s head snapped up and she gasped.  “What a horrible thing to say!” she barked.
          “Nevertheless, we must waste no time,” I replied coolly.  “It would appear that there is indeed a nefarious plot afoot.” 
          Morgan grumbled as she collected her coat and bag and headed for the door.  She paused at the threshold and stomped back into the room.  She grabbed my beloved Word of the Day calendar off of my desk and tore off the top page.  “Nefarious, indeed,” she snorted, crumpling the page and tossing it into the trash.  She stormed out of the room without another word.
          I handed Samantha a tissue and said, “Let’s go.  The police will need your statement.”
          She took a deep breath and composed herself.  “I have a confession to make, Mr. Lyle.  I wasn’t completely honest with you at the restaurant.  There is a…ah…nefarious plan afoot, as you say.”
          “Aha!  Tell me more.”
          “The owner has been meeting with a shady looking beagle and black lab.  I’m pretty sure they’re planning a robbery.  The only thing I can think of that’s worth stealing is the Kobe beef that’s being shipped in for the festival.  I think they’re planning to steal it.”
          “And the owner will get the profit from the black market and the insurance claims,” I mused.  “Clever, very clever.  He must be a shrewd individual.”
          “Not he, she,” Samantha corrected me.  “And there is no doubt that she is cunning.”
          “Interesting, very interesting.”  I chewed on this thought and my rawhide for a minute before I remembered the police and Samantha’s statement.  “We should go.  You can tell me the rest on the way.”