A poodle perplexity a mo.., p.1
A Poodle Perplexity (A Mobile Groomer Mystery Book 3), page 1
A Poodle Perplexity
A Mobile Groomer Mystery
M. Alfano
A Poodle Perplexity
Copyright© 2022
Kindle Edition
The Tule Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing 2024
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Proofreader: Jasmine Bryner
Editor: Helen Page
Cover Designer: The Book Brander
ISBN: 978-1-964418-22-3
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Mobile Groomer Mystery Series
About M. Alfano
Chapter One
I never thought I’d be sneaking into my parents’ place at almost thirty years old. But there I was, holding my boots as I opened the back screen door, praying nobody was in the kitchen hearing me coming in with the morning paper.
“Leslie Ann?” I panicked as Ma’s voice bellowed through the darkened room. “I didn’t think you’d be ready to go to church with us,”
Freezing in place, I turned just as my dad switched on the lights. He had his Stetson stallion hat in his hands, and his white hair parted on the side, something he only did on church days.
Shoot.
And I thought my little brown dachshund, Bandit, would be the problem with sneaking in, but he didn’t even blink, stretching out on his dog bed near the door.
Some guard dog he was.
I should have just brought him to Adam’s house like the Dallas detective had asked. But I knew if Bandit had come, it would give off a signal I might spend the night, and I didn’t want to look like that kind of girl the first time I went to his house.
Guess I should have thought about that before I fell asleep on his couch in the middle of watching a basketball game.
So, no funny business.
Just a woman who wasn’t sure about her relationship with a man and thought dinner and a basketball game at his small apartment in the city would be more than ordering pizza with some of his detective friends and listening to them hoot and holler over the Mavericks.
Guess I wasn’t on top of my game in the dating world or in figuring out if an invitation was actually a date.
That was evident by the fact I met the detective after not once, but twice, caught in the middle of a murder investigation in my small town of Pecan.
The latest one having to do with my ex-husband and his new girlfriend. The girlfriend now being in jail.
But being part of these investigations didn’t pay anything, so it didn’t help me with my goal of moving out of my parents’ house. The dog grooming business was picking up for the spring but still not paying near enough for me to get my own place.
One that I wished I had very much as my parents stared at me, shoes in hand by the kitchen door, blank-faced.
And now I had to face them, as an adult myself, and either tell them I spent the night or go with the lie.
“Yeah, just was getting my boots on.”
I went with the lie.
*
After a quick run to the bathroom for a speedy tooth-brushing, deodorant-swiping, and makeup touch-up, I smushed myself into the back of my dad’s pick-up and on the road to Pecan Baptist church.
Maybe if I’d known last night was just a hang out with a bunch of men and women from the local police department, I’d have just worn some yoga pants and a t-shirt.
But, just my luck, wearing the royal blue sweater dress I reserved for Christmas Eve church service made my parents think I was headed for the pews instead of trying to match the Dallas team colors.
By the time we arrived, it seemed like every pickup truck in town had already packed the gravel parking lot of Pecan Baptist Church. Pastor Dave stood out near the big cedar columns, handing out greetings and programs for everyone.
We’d barely got out of the car when my phone chirped.
Ma cut her eyes at me like I’d already disobeyed the Lord before we even entered the double doors.
“Sorry. I’ll remember to put it on silent,” I muttered, lagging behind them as I pulled my phone out of my purse.
A missed text from the very person I wasn’t expecting to message me.
Detective Adam: Hey, where did you head off to this morning, sleepyhead? Sorry, should have woken ya sooner, but man, can you believe that game? I passed out too after that many overtimes.
It took everything I had not to roll my eyes.
Were all men this clueless?
As if my ex-husband could read my mind, I heard his booming voice behind me.
“Leslie, I didn’t expect to see you this morning.” My stomach churned, and it wasn’t from too much pizza last night.
Archie and I had been divorced for almost a year now since he left me for a woman claiming to be pregnant but who just turned out to be a garden variety con artist. One who also tried to run me off the road last year.
But now Archie was still in town and smiling way too hard at me from where he stood next to his mama, who was definitely not smiling. When she looked at me, her bright red lips pinched together like she was constipated.
Archie’s loafers crunched on the gravel as he ran over, giving me a light kiss on the cheek.
It took everything I had not to gag from the heavy dose of his aftershave and musky cologne.
But at least his appearance gave me an excuse not to answer my text.
“Hello, Archie,” I said coolly.
He then turned to my ma and dad, shaking both their hands like we were just all great friends.
Gosh, if I could have disappeared into the gravel right there, I would have.
But we were about to enter the house of worship, so I reluctantly followed my family and their small talk into the sanctuary, taking my seat in one of the back pews next to my ma.
“Was the reason you were ready for church this morning because you knew Archie would be here?” Ma whispered, wiggling her eyebrows.
My stomach grumbled again. Maybe I should have grabbed a coffee and donut on my way home from Dallas. Though after that statement, I might have also heaved it all over the shag church carpet.
Luckily Pastor Dave stepped up to the pulpit, tapping the microphone, so I didn’t have to worry about what to say next. I could try to zone out during one of his long introductory announcements.
Pastor Dave was a nice enough man with thinning hair and a patchy gray beard, but boring as all get out with a monotone voice that sounded like a GPS robotic tone. So how come he filled the church pews every Sunday? Best pork tacos in the county. Near as I can figure, that’s the only reason. He made them for any church event, plus his wife, Mrs. Bev, was the local hairdresser, and her clients didn’t want to make her mad by not showing up to her husband’s sermons.
“My fellow parishioners, it is so good to see so many lovely faces,” he started, the fluorescent lights practically reflecting off of his bright white veneers. It was almost as if he asked the local dentist to set them on high beams when he got them polished.
“Before we get to today’s sermon, Mrs. Bev and I do have a bit of an announcement.”
I couldn’t help but perk up.
Was he retiring?
Were they finally going to move down to Fredericksburg to live on a peach orchard, and maybe I could get my hairdressing business back?
Not that I would ever want to step on Mrs. Bev’s toes, but ever since I moved back from Houston, I couldn’t compete with her hairdressing business and her established client list. Instead, I’d been grooming dogs in my parents’ back shed.
I loved dogs, but they didn’t exactly pay the bills, and my clients’ fussy dogs were often even harder to deal with than Texas teases.
Pastor Dave cleared his throat, his hands gripped on the pulpit. “As you know, we recently adopted MacAdoodle, another poodle to keep our Snickerpoodle company.”
He straightened the collar on his robe. “Well, we were told both dogs were fixed, and to our unexpected surprise, MacAdoodle is now going to have a litter of puppies.”
My eyebrows went up to my h
This was the big announcement.
“Since we don’t want our puppies born out of wedlock, we will be having a small ceremony and reception for the dogs after service next Sunday. We’d like you all to please join us as our newest town baker, Ms. Courtney Mangold of Gold’s Bakery will be making a cake for the humans and special treats for y’all to take home to your dogs. We all hope you join us in celebrating our dogs and our new parishioner and town baker.”
Pastor Dave extended a hand toward the front row where Ms. Mangold’s bright white hair was teased so high, there was no way anyone could miss it.
Everyone clapped in their pews with huge grins on their faces, whispering amongst themselves about trying the divine new baker’s goods.
“I didn’t know she was going to our church,” Ma whispered to Dad.
“Think Sophia knows?” Dad muttered, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
Sophia, my best friend, was also the best baker in Pecan.
But she always baked out of her home, not a storefront.
The Mangold Bakery had posted a sign in one of the empty buildings downtown a few months ago, and everyone had been talking about it since. Apparently, the older lady in the front row, had wanted to move away from the city with her son after her husband died. She also had an actual culinary degree and supposedly trained with world-renowned chefs all over the world.
Not exactly the same as my best friend who made Quinceañera cookies out of her own kitchen and sometimes delivered them minutes before the party actually took place.
Glancing around the church, I looked for the familiar blonde ponytail of my friend or even listened for the familiar scream of her kids from the church nursery.
But neither were here today.
It was as if she knew . . .
“Now, let us pray,” Pastor Dave began as everyone bowed their heads.
But there was something else gnawing at the back of my mind.
Not just because I slept on the most uncomfortable leather couch in a drafty three-story walk-up apartment.
Or the fact that I thought I was going on a date and ended up in the middle of a cop party.
No. This was about the new baker.
There had been enough upheaval in this town the past year, and now Ms. Mangold had arrived on the scene, changing it up again as the new church baker.
This could not turn out well for my best friend.
Slowly I pulled my silenced phone out of my bag, making sure to conceal it on my lap. I opened my messages, firing a quick one off to Sophia.
Leslie: Hey! Where are you? I thought I’d see you in church this morning.
Sophia: Since when are you at Sunday service? The date last night so good that you feel the need to repent?
I felt my cheeks heat up and glanced around to make sure no one could read my messages. Luckily, Ma and Dad stared up at the pulpit, listening to Pastor Dave in his droned drawl.
Leslie: It’s a long story that I’ll tell you about later. I can come by after church if you’re not too busy baking.
Sophia: Ha! Surprised you haven’t heard. No one wants Sophia’s Sweets when they can have hoity-toity new Ms. Mangold’s fancy baked goods. I heard they were going to talk about her today, making some kind of stupid cake for a dog wedding. So, I told Jake I had a headache. He was fine staying home after last night’s Mav’s game.
So, she did know about Ms. Mangold.
My chest deflated as I shook my head.
Sophia had worked so hard for this business, and now a new baker in town could slow it down, maybe even permanently.
Neither one of us wanted that to happen.
Especially since Bandit and I enjoyed the spoils of her leftover cookie dough so much.
Leslie: I can come by later, and we can talk about new bakers and the date that wasn’t really a date.
Sophia: Sounds good to me.
Ma gave me one of her evil-eyed glares and hissed, “Leslie, put your phone away. They’re about to pass the plate around.”
Reluctantly I slid my phone back in my purse and tried to keep my eyes open. Listening to Pastor Dave and his delivery on one of the bible passages was as good as a nap.
But no matter what I did, I couldn’t keep my mind off my friend.
I thought I had problems competing with Mrs. Bev and hairdressing when I moved back, so I didn’t even bother trying to start a hair business again. Luckily, there wasn’t a local dog groomer around, so I was able to at least do something to earn money.
But what would Sophia do if this new baker put her out of business?
I had to think of something to help her, though I had a feeling she was doing the exact same thing.
So maybe if I didn’t want to worry her with business, she could help me with my other problem.
Like the handsome but utterly clueless detective.
Chapter Two
I let out a silent prayer of ‘thanks’ that my parents decided not to stay for after-service refreshments.
Finally, I stripped off my slept-in clothes and got in a much-needed shower. Bonus points for ignoring another few messages from the detective.
Detective Adam Waltz: Hey, is everything okay? Wanted to make sure you made it home okay.
Detective Adam Waltz: Did Bandit miss you?
Detective Adam Waltz: Hey . . . um . . . text or call me back when you get a chance. Haven’t heard from you.
How could I even respond?
How was a man that dense?
“Men,” I muttered for the millionth time under my breath as I picked up Bandit, the little fur ball moaning like I disturbed him from licking himself.
I figured since I left him to his own devices all night, this morning, he could enjoy a trip to Sophia’s with me.
The cooler February weather meant that Sophia’s kids weren’t outside, when I drove up to her house, riding their bikes down the quiet cul-da-sac. Nor was Sophia’s front screen door open to let out the smells of fresh baked goods.
But even as Bandit and I walked onto the front porch, there was still something different about the Edwards’ household. It was as if there was a new stale air around it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on until I walked inside.
Usually Sophia was in the kitchen, yelling over the whir of a mixer while her two young kids ran around.
But there were no sounds of mixers.
No scent of sugar and butter.
No sign of the kids or her husband Jake, and Sophia wasn’t even in the kitchen. Instead, I found her sitting in front of her laptop computer in the front room, still in her pajamas, her hair in a messy bun, and a cold cup of coffee next to her.
And I thought I was the one out of sorts this morning.
“Hey, Soph . . . everything okay?” I asked, carefully taking a seat on the fluffy sectional next to her.
Bandit curled up between us, thwapping his tail as he begged for pets.
Sophia mindlessly scratched behind his ears, but her gaze stayed on the computer screen.
“Can you believe this? Piper Marrow used The Mangold Bakery for her daughter’s birthday cake? I’ve made her cake every single year since that girl was a baby. But now all of a sudden, she’s saying it was little Ella who wanted a macaroon number cake. I told her I could make macaroons, but it would cost a little extra. I’d need some time since I’d never made them. What kind of eleven-year-old wants a macaroon number cake? And she said she need it done ‘in a timely manner’. Who even says that?”
I bit back my tongue, trying to think of a good response. Time for Sophia was an abstract concept.
One I tried not to dwell on, but if I ever wanted something done by my friend, I usually had to give her a deadline thirty minutes before it was due and she’d still be thirty minutes late.
I leaned over Bandit to see the computer screen.
Piper Marrow, former cheer captain, and longtime Pecan resident and permanent thorn in my side, stood next to the smiling, white-haired Ms. Mangold.
Piper still hadn’t forgiven me when she said she wanted in on investigating the Williams murder but ended up with her tires slit.
Not my fault the murderer had decided to take it out on everyone involved with me.
But maybe that would explain why Piper hadn’t used Sophia and used Ms. Mangold instead to make her cake.
In the photo, it took both Ms. Mangold and Piper to hold the giant number eleven cake, decorated with macaroons in a rainbow of assorted colors.
