Читать книгу Paw and Order - V.M. Burns - Страница 11

Chapter 3

Dixie and Beau drove me home. It was late or rather early Saturday morning when the police got everyone’s names and addresses and allowed us to leave. However, I couldn’t complain since Red had only gone as my date, and he was still there working and probably would be for several more hours.

By the time I got home, Aggie was curled up in a ball in the middle of my bed.

Aggie was the six-pound, black toy poodle I’d adopted before I left Indiana. My vet estimated her age at two years old. Surprisingly, she hadn’t woken when I arrived, so I was able to watch her unimpeded for a few minutes. Her chest expanded as she slept, and I couldn’t help smiling as I listened to her snore. An uninformed person, or non-dog owner, would think she’d worked hard based on how heavily she slept and the sound of her snoring. I glanced at the white fluff scattered around my bed. I saw the plastic squeaky that had once resided inside the white lamb toy, but was now outside with a hole that I suspected would match Aggie’s teeth perfectly. Apparently, gutting stuffed animals, sleeping, eating and just being adorable was exhausting. I stared a bit longer and then bent down and caressed her muzzle. She opened her eyes and stared at me. Then, she gave my hand a lick. She was small, but she was such a big part of my life. I picked her up and carried her outside to take care of her business. I carried her partly because she was so cute and partly because since we’d moved, she preferred playing a game of catch me if you can instead of going outside and taking care of business. Dixie assured me I was playing into her paws every time I allowed the game to continue. My compromise was to carry her and place her outside rather than engaging in the sport.

Outside, Aggie shook, pranced around a bit and then quickly squatted and took care of business.

When she was done, I opened the door and she came inside, taking the time to stretch multiple times. Her life is so hard.

Despite my late arrival and the fact that it was Saturday and I didn’t have to go to work, Aggie woke me up at six, as she always did. Feeling the weight of her walking up my body and standing on my chest, I rolled over to the side, forcing her to clamber off.

From my side position, I felt her breath on my face. When I opened my eyes, she was mere inches away.

“It’s Saturday. I don’t have to go to work and since I let you out to go potty about three hours ago, I doubt that you have to go potty now.”

Aggie licked my face.

“Ugh.” I sat up and wiped my face. “What have you been eating? Your breath smells awful.” I stared at her.

Aggie wagged her tail in the way she had that made the bed shake. Then, she ran down the stairs I kept beside the bed to help her climb up and down.

Resistance was futile so I picked her up and went to the back door. I let Aggie out, locked the door and went to answer my own call of nature.

When I was done, I thought about climbing back in bed, but my cell phone vibrated on my nightstand and I realized sleep was over for today.

I picked up the phone and saw the face of my daughter, Stephanie, staring back at me. “You’re up pretty early today. Aren’t you on Central Time?”

Stephanie gasped. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I wasn’t paying attention to the time. Lucky and I were just getting back from our walk and…I thought I’d call.”

Lucky was a golden retriever she adopted after she found him injured and cowering under the deck at my last rental while she was visiting. He had been highly trained and was a great dog. However, something in her voice made me wonder if all was well. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She sighed.

“How’s work?” Stephanie was a successful attorney in Chicago. “Lucky? Joe?”

“Works fine and Lucky is wonderful. In fact, he’s the best representative of his sex I know.”

That narrowed down the problem. “I take it things aren’t great between you and Joe?”

Joseph Harrison was a Lighthouse Dunes policeman and a member of the K-9 unit with his Plott Hound, Turbo. Stephanie and Joe started dating after he helped us figure out who murdered my estranged husband, Albert. They really seemed perfect for each other, although Lighthouse Dunes was just over an hour from Chicago, and I suspected the distance would become a problem at some point.

“Anything you want to talk about?” I asked tentatively. As her mother, I knew I was entering dangerous territory. Life as a parent was a delicate balance for both of us. Stephanie obviously wanted to talk, or she wouldn’t have called at six in the morning. Yet, she didn’t want to be the crybaby who ran to her mom when her problems got too much. I wanted to be there for my children but didn’t want to overstep. I wished, not for the first time, that someone had created a manual for this.

“Not really.”

I sighed. “Okay, so how’s the weather in Chicago?”

“Why do men have to be so stubborn?”

For the next fifteen minutes, I held the phone while Stephanie poured out her heart. I listened but wasn’t idle. I let Aggie inside, made coffee and started cooking bacon, eggs and toast. Stephanie needed to get things off her chest, but she didn’t particularly need advice from me. When she was finished venting about Joe’s faults, which basically amounted to his unwillingness to give up his job and move to Chicago, she sighed again. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should come visit your mother.”

She paused. “No, what do you think I should do about Joe? Don’t you think it’s archaic and chauvinistic for him to expect me to give up my career and move to Lighthouse Dunes? I mean if he isn’t even willing to entertain the idea of moving to Chicago, then what’s the point of our continuing to see each other?”

I listened for another three minutes. By the time she finished talking, my breakfast was done. I took it outside and sat at the table on my deck. She paused. Unfortunately, the moment she chose for me to respond was the exact moment when I’d just shoveled bacon and toast in my mouth. I chewed quickly and gulped some of my coffee to help the lump slide down easier. “I’m serious. I think you and Lucky should come down to Chattanooga. A short vacation away from the situation might help you sort through your feelings and put things in perspective. Besides, you haven’t seen the house I’m planning to buy, and I’d love to get your opinion about some of the changes I’m planning.”

Stephanie hesitated for a few seconds. “I suppose Lucky and I could take a few days off. I don’t have anything pressing at work and it might be good to be unavailable to certain people for a little while.”

“Great.”

We talked for a few minutes, but I could tell she had warmed up to the idea of a little getaway. By the time I finished my breakfast, she was already surfing the Internet for the best flights.

I looked down at Aggie. “Breakfast before seven on a Saturday. I hope you’re happy.”

She wagged her tail, oblivious to my sarcasm. She was happy that my attention was focused on her.

I showered, dressed and tidied up. Dixie was coming over later for day two of the fundraising activities which involved a trip to Archibald Lowry’s estate for a poodle specialty and demonstrations from our dog club. The East Tennessee Dog Club Association would put on a show for agility, obedience and tracking. I gazed out in the yard at the open tunnel, closed tunnel and the PVC jumps Dixie gave me to practice with Aggie. Neither one of us were exactly sure about those, and so far all I’ve done is look at them while Aggie sniffed them. However, today wasn’t the day for practicing.

“You have got to be joking? I can’t adopt another dog. I can barely handle the one I’ve got!” I stared at my friend.

Dixie smiled. “You’re looking at me like a dog looking at a new bowl.”

“I’m not exactly sure what that means, but if you mean I’m looking at you as though you’ve suddenly lost control of all of your faculties, then yes. Yes, I am.”

She merely grinned. Dixie sat in a chair on the back deck of my house. It was a beautiful spring day in Chattanooga. Seventy degrees at eight in the morning and the crepe myrtle, dogwood, Bradford pear, and crab apple trees the previous owner had planted around the perimeter of the large two-tiered deck were blooming along with bright red, coral and orange tulips, purple and white lilac bushes and white flowering Azaleas. The birds were singing and the sun shone bright. Sitting outside on my deck, the events of last night seemed like a dream. Surely, there wasn’t anything as horrible as a murder on a day like today.

Dixie sneezed. “I love Chattanooga, but all of this pollen is driving me batty.” She took a finger and wrote “pollen sucks” in the heavy layer of yellow film that covered nearly every flat surface, despite my best efforts to wipe it clean.

“Thankfully, I don’t have allergies, but we didn’t have anything like this in Indiana.”

“The weather man said this was the worse pollen season we’ve had in two decades.” She sneezed three times in rapid succession, jostling the small fur ball that had fallen asleep on her lap.

Aggie, my black toy poodle stood on her back legs and sniffed the furry little interloper that distracted attention away from her.

Dixie watched the interplay carefully. I noted she kept a firm arm around the puppy and a close eye on Aggie.

The bundle of fur sat up and looked at Aggie. His body shook with excitement and when Aggie brought her nose close enough, the shaking increased and a tiny pink tongue quickly licked her nose.

Satisfied the fur-ball posed no threat, Aggie sniffed, got back down on the ground and walked away.

Dixie smiled. “See, Aggie approves.”

I looked down at Aggie who lay on the deck near my feet, licking the pollen off her paws.

I stared at Dixie. “Is pollen harmful to pets?”

She stared at Aggie. “I don’t think it’ll hurt her, but dogs can get allergies. Have her eyes been watering a lot?”

I shook my head.

“Have you noticed excessive scratching? Sneezing?”

“Nope.”

She shrugged. “She’s probably fine, but you should ask your vet. It can be hard to tell with dogs. Pollen can get on their fur and paws and be absorbed through their skins. Usually, they’ll scratch more or have hotspots where they bite at one part of their skin.”

Dixie wasn’t a vet, but she was a dog trainer with tons of experience competing and judging dogs, so I trusted her judgment.

I made a mental note to check with my vet. “We have an appointment in two weeks, so I’ll ask then.” I looked down at Aggie who had rolled onto her side and was basking in a ray of sunlight that cascaded through the trees. I smiled and tried to recall what my life had been like prior to adopting this six-pound bundle of joy, but I couldn’t. More importantly, I didn’t want to. I turned my gaze to Dixie who was still holding Indulf.

“Did Archibald Lowry have any family? Maybe he made provision for someone to take his dog if anything happened.” I looked at Dixie. “Is that a thing? Do people make provisions for their dogs?”

She nodded. “Absolutely, and you should figure out who you want to raise Aggie if something happens to you.”

I stared down at Aggie sprawled out on the deck. Geez, who knew owning a dog would involve so many details. I suppose it was time to update my will. My daughter, Stephanie, was a lawyer and she’d updated my will after my husband died. However, that was nearly a year ago. Since both of my children were grown up with lives of their own, I hadn’t thought much about guardianship. I certainly hadn’t thought about it in relation to my dog.

“Technically, you would be fostering little Indulf. If it turns out that Archibald Lowry has family, or made arrangements for him, then you’d have to give him back.” She paused and gazed out over the yard, but I could tell her mind was miles away.

I snapped my fingers. “Earth to Dixie.”

She came back from whatever mental vacation she’d just taken. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking back to a conversation I had with Archibald when I visited him.” She sighed. “I’m pretty sure he said he didn’t have any family, which was why he was interrogating or interviewing, depending on how you look at it, me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“If he had family, then he most likely would have left his money to them. If he didn’t have a will, then that’s what the court would do. They’d give the money to his relatives.” She stared at me. “I’m almost positive he said he didn’t have any relatives.” She puffed out her chest and brandished a Scottish accent. “Last in the line of a distinguished lineage.”

Dixie’s southern drawl didn’t lend itself to a Scottish accent, but she did an admirable job of imitating Archibald Lowry’s mannerisms.

“Well, he was very wealthy and there’s nothing like money to bring distant relations out of the woodwork.”

Dixie frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

She paused. “Did Red say if they had any ideas who could have done this?”

“I haven’t talked to him. He sent me a text at around three this morning to let me know he made it home. He was going to grab a couple of hours of sleep and then head back to work.”

Something in the way her hands fidgeted and her brow unfurled made me ask, “What’s really bothering you?”

She paused. “Honestly, I don’t really know. Something about the whole thing just feels wrong.” I started to ask a question, but she halted me by raising her hand. “I know I’m not making any sense, but I just have this weird feeling that something’s not right.” She shuddered. “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”

“Alright, now you’re scaring me. I know you quote everything from the Bible and other great literature to Hee Haw when you’re nervous, but in less than twenty-four hours, you’ve quoted Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth and Julius Caesar.”

She smiled. “Well, I did major in English Literature and technically, I believe you’re the one who quoted Julius Caesar.”

“Stop splitting hairs.

She released a heavy sigh. “I know you don’t want to get involved in another murder and I feel terrible asking you, but I was hoping you would reconsider and pull out your deer stalker one more time and look into who could have killed Archibald Lowry.”

I stared at my friend for several seconds and collected my thoughts. “Let me start by saying, Okay, I’ll do it.” She started to thank me, but this time it was my turn to halt her. I held up a hand. “However, I just want to know, why? Why is this so important?”

Dixie took a deep breath. She looked down on Indulf and thought for a few seconds.

“You know how when you saw that poor woman murdered on that pet camera, you kept thinking how you would feel if someone saw Stephanie murdered? Well, I never had children.” She smiled. “Not the kind with two legs anyway.” She petted Indulf and sighed. “My parents are both dead and I spent a lot of time with older relatives, uncles, aunts and…well, I guess I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for older people.” She shrugged. “That’s probably why I made sure Chyna and Leia were both registered therapy dogs.” She glanced at me. “You know, we go into nursing homes once a month.” She dropped her gaze. “Some of those older people would just break your heart, especially the ones who don’t get visitors from family or friends. They’re so happy to have someone to talk to, or a warm body to hug.” She snuggled Indulf. “I think Archibald Lowry reminded me of those people.” She shook her head. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. The man was richer than almighty God. He could certainly afford to pay someone to spend time with him, but…”

I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I get it. Archibald Lowry was rich, but he still didn’t have someone to care about him.”

She nodded. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t you dare cry.” I hugged my friend. “You’ll get me started.”

Indulf was caught in between us and wiggled until he was able to lick both of us. We pulled apart and laughed.

“Besides, I’m responsible for the fundraising for the Eastern Tennessee Poodle Association, and Archibald Lowry’s murder is ruining our big weekend.”

I laughed. “I guess murder can put a damper on a fundraiser.”

“I sound horrible, I know, but it’s such a worthwhile cause and this is our biggest event of the year. The funds for this event allow us to rescue poodles from puppy mills and pay for vet services. I was hoping we could raise enough money to pay for extra services which can really improve the quality of life for these dogs.” She sighed. “I would love to create a fund where people who couldn’t afford veterinary care could actually apply and get a grant to fund the services.” She sighed.

Dixie’s heart was as big as the state of Tennessee and when it came to poodles, her compassion was endless.

“Okay, well the weekend isn’t over. We’ve got the poodle specialty this afternoon which should bring in quite a bit of money, right?”

She sighed. “I hope so. We’ve got a lot of poodles registered for the event. The entries have already been paid for and are nonrefundable, but we make quite a bit of money from visitors and concession sales.”

“Then you’re sure to make a fortune.”

She stared at me.

“It’s at Archibald Lowry’s estate.” I stared at her. “People will come out just to be nosy. I don’t know how you convinced the hermit to let you host a trial on his secluded farm.” I stared at my friend. “Are they still going to let you have the event there?”

She nodded. “I talked to his lawyer, first thing this morning. It’s a good thing Archibald signed a contract. I think that’s the only thing that prevented them from cancelling. I’m not sure it’s still valid since he’s dead, but they did agree to allow us to continue.” She smiled shyly. “I promised we’d dedicate the trial in Archibald’s memory, I’m going to make black arm bands for all of the competitors to wear and we’re going to have a moment of silence.”

“Well, that should have pleased them.”

She nodded. “Archibald Lowry really did love poodles, so it is fitting.”

Indulf sighed and snuggled down on her lap.

She handed him to me and pulled her notepad out of purse. “I need to swing by the store and pick up black fabric and scissors.” She looked down at Indulf. “I should buy him a new collar.”

I stared down at the rather gaudy collar he was wearing. It was black leather and looked as though it had been bejeweled. There were large rhinestones in red, clear, green and blue that went around the entire collar. “It does look a bit tacky.”

“A bit?”

I shrugged. “I guess it goes with the name. I don’t know that I can call him Indulf, though.”

“What would you name him?” She glanced in my direction.

“Oh no you don’t.”

She gave me an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know if I name that dog then I’m going to get attached. I know your sinister games.” I laughed.

“Well, then we’ll just keep calling him Indulf.”

I sighed and stared at the cute bundle of fur. “What about Rex?”

“Rex? That’s Latin for king?”

I smiled. “I was thinking more along the lines of Rex Stout, author of the Nero Wolfe mysteries. I loved those books.”

She smiled and gave the poodle a scratch. “Rex, it is.”

I looked down into a pair of big dark eyes and my heart turned to liquid. “This is a bad idea,” I said as I lifted the little gray fur ball and snuggled him close. “This is a very bad idea.”