Whiskey on the Rocks by Nina Wright Page A

Springs’ Overnight Dispatcher System—an answering service for three local communities that can’t afford police patrols 24/7. But the Acting Chief herself picked up my call.

    “Still sitting here thinking,” she explained. News of the note intrigued her.

    “How about I cruise over there and have a look-see?”

    “It’s not like it’s a ransom note,” I said.

    “It’s like a ransom note!” Chester shouted. He had picked up the phone in the guest room.

    “It’s a threatening note,” Jenx concluded. “Whoever wrote it is toying with us, and I’m nobody’s toy.”

    “Me neither!” said Chester.

    “I’ll be there in ten, buddy,” the Chief promised. I knew she wasn’t talking to me.

    Chester paced the Great Room, looking like a miniature expectant father: useless and partly to blame. His latex gloves enhanced the image.

    “I feel responsible,” he muttered. “All day long, I was rewarding her for grabbing handbags. She got a mixed message.”

    “It’s not your fault. Abra knows what she’s doing.”

    Chester looked at me. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

    I nodded with a conviction I didn’t quite feel. But I meant what I said: “Abra’s a survivor.”

    His eyes brightened. “That’s what Cassina says about me. Did you know I barely weighed four pounds when I was born?”

    “Amazing. Where was that, anyway?” I didn’t know much Cassina history except that she already had the kid when she built the Castle next door.

    “Huntington, West Virginia. Backstage at the Marshall University Student Union Auditorium. Cassina was touring campuses to promote her first CD, Wicked Kisses. She didn’t even know she was pregnant.”

    Maybe I looked skeptical because Chester added, “She thought she had gas. Cassina lived on junk food in those days. Not anymore, though.”

    I nodded. “Now she drinks shark-fin tea.”

    “Tahitian shark-fin tea,” he amended.

    That reminded me of Rupert, the person Cassina had cursed. I wanted to ask Chester about him, but just then Jenx arrived, blessedly without siren or flasher. Chester held up his gloved hands.

    “Good thinking!” Jenx said. “What about Whiskey?”

    “I knew she’d contaminate the evidence, so I didn’t let her touch it. Think you can lift some prints?”

    “I can try. The MSP has better equipment, but I don’t want to call them yet.”

    “What about their case?” I said. “Could be a connection. Or maybe someone just wants to mess with me. Most of Magnet Springs knows I could afford to buy Abra back. What they don’t know is . . . would I?”

    “We all know you would,” Jenx said.

    “Why should I?” I demanded. “She makes me crazy! She disrupts my whole life!”

    “She’s Leo’s legacy,” said Jenx. “He adored that dog, and you adored Leo. Everybody knows that.”

    “I adore Abra, too,” Chester said.

    “Yeah? Well, you’re a kid,” I said. “And kids love dogs. Especially big dogs. Or is it girl dogs? Maybe it’s big girl dogs, which is what Abra is.”

    Jenx said, “We’ll get her back, Whiskey. Officers Swancott and Roscoe will give this their all.”

    “Can I join the posse?” said Chester.

    “What ‘posse’?” I said.

    “The volunteers who chase the bad guy!”

    “In John Wayne movies maybe.”

    “Well, I want to join one. To save Abra.”

    “Sounds good to me,” said Jenx. “I hereby deputize you. Of course, you can’t carry a weapon, and we no longer work on horseback.”

    Chester beamed. “When do I start?”

    “I need your help right now. How about answering a real hard question?”

    “Shoot.” Chester assumed a fighting stance.

    “You said you didn’t tell anybody at Bake-The-Steak about the finger. Is that right?”

    “Right. I didn’t tell anybody.”

    “Are you sure you never mentioned it?”

    “Positive.”

    Jenx looked hard at him. Suddenly, Chester’s eyes widened, his jaw sagged, and then his entire face collapsed. He was