Never Con a Corgi Read Free

people saw him drive away. Right after the argument with Gil March."
    "You mean the fist fight?" Michelle queried.
    Leigh's stomach twisted uncomfortably. She hadn't told Maura the half of her—and her extended family's—rather unpleasant entanglement with the late Mr. Lyle. If she knew anything about police interrogations (and sadly, she did) the process was likely to take a while.
    She considered, then rose with a jerk. "Shannon," she said earnestly, "I need to take my dog back to the animal shelter and let the manager know where I'll be. I'm going to walk him over by the road, but—well, if there's any suspicion that I've sneaked back to the pond, Maura really will have that coronary she's always talking about. So could you—both of you—watch me go? I'll be back in five minutes."
    The women looked at each other anxiously. "Of course, Leigh," Shannon said firmly, walking with her to the door. "We'll park ourselves right here on the steps until the police come."
    Leigh looked thankfully at her aunt-by-marriage, who despite looking like she could blow away on a strong wind, often showed surprising strength. Nice lady, always had been. Still, Leigh could never quite shake the feeling that there was something a little... well... odd about her.
    "The police are coming, aren't they?" Shannon added tentatively.
    The question was answered by the high, thin wail of a distant siren.
    "Gotta run!" Leigh exclaimed. She hurried down the stairs, grabbed the lead, clucked to her eager-looking corgi, and took off at a jog. The animal shelter was only a short distance down the road, at least for a healthy human. To a thirty pound dog with six-inch legs, it probably seemed longer, but Chewie was not one to complain. He charged off beside her at a full gallop, his short strides bunching up his long body like an inchworm.
    Not daring to slow, Leigh swerved around the parking lot and headed for the back of the building.
    "Hey, mom!" A young voice called with amusement. "Why are you running?"
    Leigh halted at the gate to one of the empty play yards. The fact that the sight of her running would elicit such a question was evidence of the shape she was in.
    After several long moments, she caught her breath.
    "I've got to get back to the church," she answered, locking Chewie securely in the run, where he made a beeline for the automatic waterer. "I'm meeting your Aunt Maura there—it may take a while. You just stay put till I get back, okay?"
    The boy, who was walking a lab mix with one hand and some chow-looking beast with the other and making little progress in any direction, tossed his head to see from under the sheaf of bright red hair that fell across his eyes. "Whatever," he said cheerfully. "I'm not going anywhere. With these two, I may never go anywhere!"
    Leigh paused just long enough to smile. Ten-year-old Ethan loved hanging out at the animal shelter—walking the dogs no one else wanted to walk. His clothes were already laced with slobber and his shoes would have to be scraped before she'd let him back in the car, but she was terribly proud of him. Besides being a hard worker, the boy had her love of animals and his father's cheerful disposition... what more could a parent ask for?
    She hurried through the back door and passed through the hallway by the cat room. She would have to let Angie know she might be late in returning—
    "Mom?"
    Leigh halted in her tracks and back-stepped. "Yes?"
    A petite, dark-haired girl sat cross-legged on the floor, a litter of kittens mewling as it tumbled across her bony lap. "Grandpa needs to take a look at these," the girl said determinedly. "They were all fine yesterday, but today this one's kind of sluggish, and I don't like the look of that eye discharge at all. They may have to be quarantined."
    Leigh fought back an indulgent grin. If ever a pair of siblings were twins in birth only, it was hers. Her brainy, solemn daughter made quite a contrast to her easy-going, extroverted son. Even