She flushed with pride. “Just glad I could help.”
“Wouldn’t there have been some kind of warning for an unusually high dose like that, though?” Serrano asked. “Some kind of audio signal?” He reached over and plucked a stray hair off Ardine’s coat.
I frowned at him. God, he was anal. And just because he was considered some kind of sex symbol in these parts, it didn’t give him the right to be so familiar with any woman he chose.
But Ardine only nodded eagerly. “Yes, there should have been. But the remote can clear alerts and warnings from both devices.”
Birch came back, attached the pump to his laptop, and I held my breath while the download processed. He peered at the screen. “Well, I can tell you that her last dose was definitely initiated from the remote and not from the pump. What’s the serial number on that one?” he asked.
I read the numbers off the remote sitting on top of the washing machine.
Birch glanced up, his face pale. “According to this data, that’s not the one that sent the final command.”
Angus scratched his head. “And no one picked up on anything funky at the time?”
“Well, it probably wouldn’t have seemed significant to the police, whether the dose came from the pump or remote,” Birch said. “By the way, we were never asked to help. We just assumed the police knew what they were doing.”
Again, I winced and refused to look at Serrano.
“One thing’s for sure,” Angus said. “I reckon if you find that second remote, you’ve found your killer.”
Chapter Seventeen
When I got home, there was no sign of Joe, and no note. I let Jasper out for his favorite game of chasing squirrels. As soon as they heard the door open, they hightailed it down the yard, and Jasper, in full-out pursuit, nearly crashed into the trees at the far end. He’d never caught a squirrel yet, but he never tired of the game either.
“Almost, Jasper. Maybe next time,” I called as he sniffed around the garden shed, christening the corner of it with a long stream.
“I’d better go and feed Cyril’s cat now,” I said when I brought him back inside. “I’ll have to take you for a walk later. Don’t think he’ll show himself if you’re with me.”
At Cyril’s place, I filled the cat’s bowl with fresh water and topped up the dry food in the dish. I took a good look around at the top of the fridge and the cupboards, on guard for the little dive-bombing feline, but there was no sign of him. I locked up the trailer and scanned the piles of junk. He was probably checking me out right now from behind a rusty hubcap.
Cyril had said not to worry, but I’d have felt better if I’d at least caught a glimpse of him.
It was kind of creepy being out here alone. I’d never noticed it much when Cyril was at home, but it really was a long way from the main road. I definitely wouldn’t fancy staying here at night by myself. I walked faster, imagining I was being watched, but it was probably just the cat.
I broke into a run as I got closer to the intersection of Main Street and Grist Mill, breathing a sigh of relief when I could see Millbury again. Cowboy boots aren’t the ideal running gear, and I slowed to a hobble. But I didn’t even make it to Sometimes a Great Notion before Eleanor rushed across the street to meet me.
“Daisy, did you see the paper today?” Her face was pale and serious, with none of the usual wry humor.
“No, I’ve been out all day. Why?”
She simply handed me a copy of the Sheepville Times.
My blood ran cold as I spotted my picture on the bottom of the front page with the caption “Chippy Did the Dirty on Me.”