Murder Unleashed by Elaine Viets Page A

stolen.”
    “Which mall?” Helen said. Florida had more malls than mosquitoes.
    “Sawgrass Mills.”
    “The outlet mall?” Helen said.
    “The one with more than four hundred stores,” Willoughby said. “It’s supposed to be the biggest mall in Florida. It’s two miles long. They bring shoppers in on tour buses. You can buy mall tour tickets at the big hotels.”
    Helen wondered if Willoughby had statistics on all the major malls. The woman was definitely a power shopper.
    “I never shop there for my clothes, of course,” Willoughby said. “They would be at least a year out-of-date in an outlet mall.” She paused dramatically.
    The awkward silence continued. Helen finally figured out that Willoughby was waiting for her to admire her outfit. “I can see your clothes are up-to-the-minute,” Helen said.
    Willoughby smiled and took another sip of Evian. “Francis doesn’t care about fashion. He likes to roam around and look at things. He calls it people-watching.” Willoughby clearly could not understand her husband’s fascination with others. People were supposed to watch her.
    “Francis knows that on a Saturday afternoon some fifty thousand shoppers can swarm into the Sawgrass stores. He showed Detective Brogers a dated and time-stamped receipt for a meal at the mall. He was supposedly eating a hamburger when Barkley was taken from your store. Except I don’t believe it. Who keeps a receipt like that? It was for cash, too. That’s how I knew it was a phony. Francis pays for everything with a credit card.”
    “Did you tell the police?” Helen said.
    “Yes. Francis explained that, too. He said he couldn’t afford to use his credit cards since I filed for divorce. I don’t believe that. I think he went through the mall trash cans until he found a receipt with the right time on it. It wouldn’t be difficult, not with thousands of shoppers eating there. Somebody would throw away a receipt he could use. There are more than thirty places to eat in that mall.”
    Helen wondered if Francis was really that crafty, or if his soon-to-be ex was so blinded by hatred that she wanted Francis to be the kidnapper.
    “Where did he eat?” Helen said.
    “He didn’t,” Willoughby said. “He lied.”
    Helen tried again. “At what restaurant did he claim he had the hamburger?”
    “The Golden Calf.”
    “Do the police think your dog was kidnapped for money?” Helen asked.
    “I haven’t received a ransom demand. I would have been contacted by now. Who else would take it?”
    “There are a lot of sick puppies out there,” Helen said. Why am I dogged with animal puns? she wondered.
    Willoughby was too intent on blaming her husband to notice. “Francis took that dog,” she said. “He didn’t kidnap it for ransom. He’s doing this to spite me. He doesn’t need the money. We got a nice chunk of money up front when we signed exclusively with the Davis stores. He took his share and invested it.”
    Willoughby blew her half on the house and the boat, while Francis saved his. The little bland man had brains.
    “Francis has stashed that dog somewhere,” Willoughby said. “He’s going to keep Barkley until the Davis department stores contract is canceled and my dog’s career is ruined. I know how Francis thinks.”
    “Where do you think he hid Barkley?”
    “I have no idea,” Willoughby said, and drained her glass. “I just know he did.”
    “Does he have family here in Florida?”
    “No, his mother is his only relative, and she lives in Connecticut,” Willoughby said. “Mrs. Barclay wouldn’t steal my dog. She’s a lovely woman. She’s also eighty years old.”
    “What about his friends?”
    “Francis doesn’t have any,” Willoughby said.
    Helen could believe that. “Lovers?” she said.
    Willoughby looked uneasy. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
    Ha, Helen thought. Your husband is a hound and you know it. But she’d been revolted by his touch. She suspected other women would feel the