Chapter 4

 

Wednesday morning, Diane brewed our coffee. She handed me my cup and sat down. She was very quiet as she pestered the rim of her cup with a finger. Finally, she studied me.

I'm thinking look out. Here it comes. Just like Mom. “You stiff and sore from that fall last night?”

I shrugged. “A little, but not bad. Just feeling foolish.”

“Why?” She asked sharply.

“Diane, I might as well tell you the truth. It has still been bugging me that the stool flushed the other night, and none of us did it. Last night when I heard the stool flush, I thought I was going to catch the culprit that used your bathroom or find out if the stool wasn't working properly.”

Diane grimaced. “So that was what last night was all about. That's quite an imagination you have?”

“I know. Half asleep like that I wasn't thinking clearly. I rushed at that bathroom door and ran smack dab into Paul. Surprised him as much as it did me,” I said sheepishly. “But I didn't want to admit to him what I was doing. I thought you said he didn't get up in the night, or I wouldn't have bothered to get out of bed.”

“He doesn't usually, but I didn't mean he never ever gets up in the night,” Diane explained. “Renee, you're off duty when you're staying with us. That means you don't have to get up in the night to play cop around here. You're just lucky I'm not the jealous type. That looked awful suspicious when I saw Paul with his arms around you in the middle of the night in that dark hall.”

“Paul was just helping me off the floor. That's all,” I said peevishly.

Diane smiled and reached across the table to pat my hand. “It's all right. I believe you.”

“I'm glad you do,” I said sincerely.

“One more thing,” Diane said.

“Yes?” I was wondering now what.

“Did you come in the kitchen for a snack last night after we went to bed?” Diane asked.

“Nope. I never snack after I go to bed. Too hard to exercise the pounds off that a midnight snack would put on. Why would you ask?”

“When I got up this morning, the cupboard door was wide open where I keep the snack food. Oh well, maybe I didn't shut the door when I was rearranging the snacks so the ones I bought are at the back.” What Diane said sounded lame to me.

The day didn't get any better for me. I was just about finished with the last case report and glad of it when Mrs. Pestkey showed up. Just seeing her filled me with dread. I always knew whatever she had on her mind wasn't good.

That woman has been Mom's friend for years. Maybe the only real friend Mrs. Pestkey has is my mother. When Diane and I were kids, we used to call her Mrs. Pest, but that was behind my mother's back. She would have come down on us with some kind of hard labor punishment for being disrespectful like cleaning house for a month.

The elderly woman marched over to my desk, thumping her cane on the floor. She planted herself in a wide stance so she could stare at me.

“Hello,” Mrs. Pestkey. What can I do for you today?” I asked as cheerfully as I could manage.

“Something has to be done about the stray dogs in this town,” she demanded.

Innocently, I asked, “You have a problem with a dog?”

“Yes, there is a large dog running around my neighborhood. He's about as big as a small horse. I'm afraid to go outside without my cane when he's around.

This morning, I set my garbage cans on the curb and went into the house. That beast showed up and knocked both of them over. He strung the garbage all over the street. What a mess! Could I get it cleaned up in time for the garbage truck to pick it up you might asked? No! I was too late by the time I chased after that dog, trying to clobber him with my cane,” she ranted.

“I'm sorry you had such a problem. I'll call the dog catcher and let him know so he can catch the dog.”

“Fine, but see that you do that right away,” Mrs. Pestkey ordered, shaking her finger at me.

As soon as Mrs. Pestkey left the station the chief came out of his office and leaned against the door frame. “Detective, when did the city hire a dog catcher?”

Briceson spoke up from his desk behind me, “I was wondering that myself.” The chief stared him down and Briceson finished his sentence with, “Sir.”

“No one person holds that title that I know of, Sir. Which ever policeman is on duty usually takes care of catching strays when they become a nuisance,” I said truthfully.

The chief's eyebrows came up. “I glad you know that. So since you're on duty today you are the acting dogcatcher?”

“Yes, Chief. I'll get right on it,” I said.

As soon as the chief went back to his desk, I turned to Briceson and informed him he was going with me to catch the stray.

When we arrived the dog was into Mrs. Pestkey's trash cans again. The minute he saw us he trotted off down the street with us in pursuit. Unfortunately, Mrs. Pestkey was watching out her living room window. I could just hear her the next time she saw me. “What's the matter? The dogcatcher have the day off.”

It wasn't easy to catch up to that dog. He was a skinny greyhound. My jogging exercises did me no good what so ever trying to keep up with that pooch. Who know the next perp I'd be after was a stray. He probably was a retiree from a race track somewhere.

The dog ran into the park and hid behind a large maple tree, panting with his long red tongue drooling. It tickled me that he seemed to be out of condition. I knew just how he felt, but I wasn't about to let him see my tongue hanging out.

He peered out at us, resting, but waiting for us to get near before he bolted again.

We stopped. Briceson whistled and called, “Here, Boy. Here, Boy.” He patted his leg. “Come to me.”

The dog took off.

We took off after him. “That sure was the wrong thing to do,” I scolded as we raced side by side.

“Why? I thought that's how you call a dog,” Briceson panted.

“Wrong! For one thing, he isn't about to come to strangers. We might have a cane to hit him with like Mrs. Pestkey. She scared the daylights out of him, and I don't blame him for staying away from us. If Mrs. Pestkey came after me with that cane, I'd be scared, too. For another reason, his name must not be Boy. Dogs know their own name,” I said dryly.

The dog ran to the middle of the park and stopped behind a chestnut tree. He didn't pause long to rest this time. A rabbit skittered from behind a park bench, bringing back old and exciting memories to the greyhound. He took off after that rabbit like he was an entry in a race.

The only thing that saved the rabbit was the dog looked back to see how close we were to him. He lost track of the rabbit and decided to stop behind a oak tree this time to rest.

I put my hand out and stopped Briceson before the dog became skittish again. “We got to catch our breath before race three begins,” I puffed.

“Good idea,” Briceson said, sucking air in and out. He studied the dog. “What do you think we ought to do?”

I gave Briceson my best serious look. “If you really want to catch that dog, try ignoring him. Get down on your knees and act like you've found the most delicious pile of dog kibbles.”

Briceson arched his eyebrows at me. “You are kidding me. Right?”

“No, I'm dead serious,” I said. Well almost.

“How are we going to explain this if someone sees me acting that way? You know how people in this town talk,” Briceson complained.

“Hey, I'm just saying it should work. That dog is hungry, and any dog worth his salt is not going to let another dog eat up all the good food,” I said.

“There are flaws in your theory. First, I am not a dog. If that dog is as smart as you think he is, he can tell the difference between a human and a dog. Second, there isn't anything on the ground for a dog to eat,” Briceson scoffed softy, afraid the dog would hear us plotting against him I guess.

“Well, I was saving this for lunch, but I guess you might as well have it if this keeps Mrs. Pestkey happy and us from having to run for the rest of the day. Right now I'm pooped.” I reached in my jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of potato chips.

Briceson held the bag up, looking stumped. “What am I suppose to do with this?”

“Drop to your knees and crinkle the bag real loud so you've broken the chips into pieces. That noise will get the dog's attention. Then open the bag and empty it so the dog can see. Get your nose near the pile of chips and say yum, yum like you're eating the chips.”

“I don't want to do this,” Briceson whined.

“Hey, don't tell me. You go back and tell that to Mrs. Pestkey, and you better know I'm not going with you,” I ordered.

“No, that wouldn't be wise.” Briceson dropped to his knees and roughed up the bag. He opened it and poured out the broken chips.

“Keep it up,” I whispered. “He's interested enough that he came out from behind the tree. He's staring at you.”

“Yum, yum, yum, this is good dog food,” Briceson improvised.

“He stopped. Not so much talking. He's not sure he wants to carry a conversation with you,” I whispered.

“Yum, yum.” Briceson whispered out of the side of his mouth, “What's he doing now?”

“He's coming very slowly toward you,” I said, backing up so the dog wouldn't worry about me. “He's hungry. I can tell. Listen, you keep an eye on him until he tries to steal a mouth full of chips and grab his collar.”

“Sounds easier said than done,” Briceson hissed. “Is there anyone in the park to see me acting weird?”

“Nah,” I lied. “Too early in the day.” I wasn't about to tell him about the group of park lovers behind us that had gathered to watch the show. “Now ease up to give the dog room. He just might grab your nose instead of the chips.”

Briceson straightened up and sat very still.

“Look down. He has to think he's sneaking up on you so don't make eye contact with him,” I hissed.

Sure enough the dog one step at a time stalked the chip pile. He was too hungry to worry much about Briceson at the moment. The dog sniffed the chips to make sure this was food. He scarfed a mouth full.

Briceson grabbed his collar. “I got him. Oof!”

He just thought he did. The dog leaped and lurched, trying to get away. Briceson fell flat on his face.

Good thing Briceson had a good grip on the collar. He held on until I got there to help him. With both of us holding on, it gave Briceson time to get to his feet.

The crowd applauded.

That's when he spotted he had an audience and went all red faced. “No one around to watch you said.”

“They just showed up. I couldn't very well tell them to disperse. I'd have scared the dog off, and you were doing such a good job,” I complimented.

“How did you know that would work?”

“I didn't for sure,” I admitted.

“If I wasn't here would you have got down on your knees and yelled yum yum over that pile of chips,” Briceson asked dragging the dog with us.

“You kidding? No way,” I snorted.

Briceson stopped and gave me a disgusted glare.

“Keep going. We got to get this dog over to Mrs. Pestkey's house and get him in the car. We'll take him to the vet to board for the owner,” I said.

Getting that dog to load into the back of the squad car was a whole other story, but I won't bore you with it. Except to say the dog decided not to be so stubborn about hopping in the minute he heard Mrs. Pestkey's raised voice and her cane clunking on the sidewalk as she came toward him.