Mackenzie August Boxset 2

by Alan Lee

  If dogs can smile, she did.

  I stuck my hand out. “Mackenzie August, thanks for humoring my visit.”

  Ronald shook it. “Well, I’m Ron and this here’s Ramona. Not sure what good it’ll do you.”

  “This is Georgina?” I asked.

  The dog came forward and placed her paw into my hand.

  Well.

  How about that. I was charmed.

  “Yes, we call her Georgie,” said Ramona. “She’s the sweetest dog, I love her to pieces.”

  “I can see why. I know nothing about dogs, but she strikes me as the best one.”

  Ronald chuckled.

  Ramona laughed. “We like her.”

  “I hear her original owner wants her back,” said Ronald. “But you ain’t him.”

  “Correct,” I said. I released Georgina’s paw and scratched her behind the ears.

  “After some odd three years? Ain’t that strange.”

  “It is a little strange, Ronald. I admit it. But so are the circumstances surrounding the request.”

  Ramona grabbed my jacket and pulled me into the kitchen. A farmhouse kitchen with a red tea kettle, decorative plates displayed above the cabinets, doilies at each chair at the table, and oil paintings of dogs with dead birds clenched in their maws.

  She said, “You want coffee?”

  “Thank you, no. Still have a steaming mug in the car.”

  “So what’re the strange circumstances?” asked Ronald. Looked like a farmer gone to retirement, maybe sixty, built lean but sturdy. A no-nonsense face, though open and friendly. He lowered to a wooden kitchen chair with a grunt.

  “Georgina was adopted by a guy in Roanoke, three years ago,” I said. The animal in question followed me to the kitchen island and politely waited to be scratched some more. I acquiesced. “But a week or two after the adoption, he was involved in a serious car wreck. Hospitalized and came away with amnesia. He couldn’t care for the dog and neither could his daughter, so they gave Georgina away on Craigslist. To you wonderful folk.”

  Each time she heard her name, Georgina’s ears perked.

  “Oh my,” said Ramona. She placed her hand on her chest. “Amnesia? Really, like in the movies?”

  “Usually in the movies the person cannot remember their past. This is a little different in that he cannot create new memories.”

  Ronald said, “And he wants the dog back?”

  “That’s the short version.” I nodded.

  “Why?”

  “He doesn’t know. He barely remembers Georgina, but he wakes up every day with the vague notion something’s missing. And he leaves himself notes about her.”

  “Notes?” asked Ramona.

  “That’s what he has instead of short-term memory. Notes and journals.”

  “How about that. You’re right, strange circumstances.”

  “Why didn’t Georgina attack my car, like the other dogs?” I asked.

  Ramona beamed like a proud parent. “Cause she’s too much of a princess. She really grew into her name. Look at her, just a’sitting there.”

  “Old Georgie is a peculiar dog.” Ronald sniffed, but with approval. “Most boxers are overly active, you ask me. Maybe too friendly. But not her. Don’t bark, don’t beg, don’t jump on people. Don’t even like the pack much.”

  I asked, “She’s aggressive with the others?”

  “No, no, didn’t say that. I just mean, she don’t participate in the lunacy. Like you saw. Plays outside with them some, but prefers people.”

  “I’m the same way.”

  “I could tell, the way you hid in your car!” Ramona cackled, the heartless wench.

  “I wasn’t hiding. I was evaluating.”

  “Hah!”

  “Have you ever noticed anything unusual about her? Other than her pleasant temperament?” My unspoken question—something that would make her worth a million dollars? Or two?

  “Like what?” Ronald worried at his ear.

  “I don’t know. I’m not overly familiar with dogs. Did she have any injuries or scars?”

  “No, nothing like that,” said Ramona. “I’d have noticed.”

  “How many dogs do you have total?”

  “Six,” said Ramona. “The four you seen plus two more in the basement.”

  “Too damn many, you ask me.”

  “It’s your lucky day, Ronald,” I said. “I’ve been sent with a checkbook to reduce your burden by one.”

  Ronald grunted. “Mighty strange request.”

  “I know. Even for a mercenary like me, it borders on heartless,” I said.

  “Another dog won’t do?”

  “Apparently not. The puppy just outside his memory haunts him,” I said. Admitting Ulysses didn’t actually like dogs would reduce my bargaining power.

  Ramona sat next to her husband. Squeezed her hands between her knees and considered crying. “But I love her.”

  “You heard Mr. August, the man’s got amnesia. ‘Sides, we got five others. Still too many. You said it yourself, not a week ago.”

  Georgina Princess Steinbeck watched Ramona with interest. I kept up the scratching. Her mouth opened and she panted with pleasure.

  Georgina, not Ramona.

  I said, “I can pay you enough to buy two replacements. Pure bred boxer puppies.”

  “God almighty, we don’t want more. And not puppies, no thank you,” said Ronald.

  “Mr. August, it’s not about the money,” she said.

  “I know it’s not. And I don’t mean to insult you.”

  “But the money would help.” Ronald winked. “Few things round here need replacing, anyways.”

  Ramona blinked away some tears. “My husband needs replacing, maybe.”

  I grinned.

  Thirty minutes later I loaded a flattened metal crate into my trunk while Ramona watched and cried from the porch. Ronald put his arm around her and waved—I paid them handsomely. Let it never be said Mackenzie August isn’t generous with other people’s money.

  Georgina leaped gracefully into the passenger seat when I beckoned.

  “Good girl,” I said.

  She watched the farmhouse fade into the distance as we bounced down the gravel drive, and she started to whine.

  A lugubrious sound.

  Chapter 15

  Georgina had never met a toddler.

  Kix had never interacted with a dog that I could remember.

  They watched each other the way Neil Armstrong might’ve, had he and an alien encountered one another on the moon—emotions indescribable, though enthusiasm and disbelief were near the top. Georgina ran around the main level of Chez August, smelling the smells, but returned inexorably to Kix. She thought he was a riot, this person smaller herself.

  I stayed near in case she decided to lick his face or bite his head. Who knew what these wild animals were capable of. I also stayed near in case Kix tried to rip Georgina’s ear off.

  After thirty minutes of observation I decided Georgina understood on some subterranean level that this human required extra care; she volitionally eased off the gas near Kix.

  Kix wobbled on his feet, screaming with pleasure the whole time.

  That evening, for twenty minutes straight as I mixed a large taco salad, the dog ran up the rear staircase and came down the front. Over and over, looking more pleased with each revolution.

  Kix laughed from his chair.

  Watch this, father, she’s going to do it again. What a dumb animal! I’m so happy.

  “Dog,” I said. “Kix, say dog.”

  “Dog,” said Kix.

  “Very good. Dog.”

  “Dog.”

  I picked up a tennis ball Ramona had sent and I rolled it across the room. Georgina chased it and I said, “Fetch.”

  Kix laughed.

  “Fetch. Kix, say fetch.”

  “Fish.”

  Georgina came back, pleased. I told her she was a good dog, and I took the ball and rolled it again. “Fetch.”


  “Fish,” said Kix.

  “Fetch. Rhymes with…ah…homestretch.”

  This is a stupid game, Father, and I hate it.

  “Fetch.”

  “Fish.”

  Our crew returned home at intervals and rattled the door, and she growled until I told her to cool it. Then, intruder personally vouched for, she welcomed them with fervor.

  Manny and Ronnie successively lost any shred of dignity and got down on all fours, wild animals themselves. Lost in the throes of joy, Georgina leaped over Manny.

  Sheriff Stackhouse told her she was a good dog and scratched her behind the ears.

  Timothy August smiled benevolently. “You found her, then. Short hair, at least. And no oppressive odor.”

  Kingdom of God, up in here.

  As we ate, Georgina sat erect nearby, watching us and watching the door. Expecting Ramona to walk through any second.

  That evening, Manny, Ronnie and I took our ease on the leather couch watching a cooking show. Ronnie’s head rested on my shoulder, a glass of wine perched within her fingers. Georgina was curled near a heating vent in the floor. Eyes on the front door.

  “Will you keep her here?” asked Ronnie.

  “I think I have to. She put her paw into my hand, for goodness sake.”

  “Where will she sleep?”

  “The floor?”

  “Yes, but where?”

  “No idea,” I said.

  “What did you feed her?”

  “Umm.”

  Ronnie raised from my shoulder. “You haven’t fed her?”

  “No. Dogs eat, I guess, huh.”

  Manny snorted and stood. “I’ll cut her some chicken. Maybe she wants beer?”

  “No. What? No,” said Ronnie. “What is wrong with you two?”

  “We fed dogs beer in Puerto Rico, mamita. They liked it.”

  “Chicken is a good idea, Manuel, and a dish of water,” she said.

  “Ay. Probably right. Dog’s worth two million dollars or something?”

  I said, “Don’t think so. Georgina’s involved somehow in the whole Steinbeck farrago but I don’t believe she herself is worth more than any other dog. The family secrets are still hidden.”

  “And Ulysses wants you to uncover them.”

  “Yes. His subconscious wants me to, though he verbalized it with different words.”

  From the kitchen Manny asked, “What secrets?”

  “I don’t know yet. His ex-wife’s new husband suspects chicanery and he might be right. The daughter has awful memories of something but she won’t spill. There was a woman involved he can’t remember. He didn’t drink, but he got blind drunk that night. He went gambling—very uncharacteristic of him. And the dog. It all adds up to something. But neither of us knows what. He refuses to dig into it, which is why he hired me.”

  “How will you?” asked Ronnie. Her breath was on my neck, her free hand around my bicep.

  “Successive approximation.”

  She undid the top two buttons of my shirt. Reached around to the back and tugged on my collar to expose my neck and the upper part of my back. She traced the lines of the world’s most humiliating tattoo, given to me in Italy.

  “King,” she said sleepily. “Fits you. You’re good at your job.”

  “You’re good at yours. Doesn’t mean you should be branded with it.”

  She snickered. “You’re a King.”

  “A king who can never take my shirt off in public.”

  “I agree, but only because I’d be jealous of all the girls checking out your pecs.”

  Manny snorted again. “Pecs.” Georgina detected food preparation and she waited by his side with courteous expectancy. He lowered a bowl of cubed chicken and bowl of water, and Georgina practically inhaled both.

  “Dios mio, she was hungry,” he muttered and cleaned up the kitchen floor.

  Ronnie yawned. “Marcus called. We’re having dinner soon with his friend from Washington. I don’t know him. Your attendance is expected.”

  I said, “To talk about the sale of your property.”

  “Yes.”

  Manny came back and sat in the overstuffed reading chair. “I should be there too?”

  “No thank you, Manuel. This is a safe and civilized meeting.”

  Manny jerked a thumb at himself. “I’m civilized as heck.”

  “What she means is, we don’t need you to come kill anyone or prevent us from being killed.”

  “Sounds like a boring dinner. Gonna knit too?”

  “I hope it’s boring. But these things usually aren’t,” said Ronnie.

  “Big Mack, when are we gonna talk with Darren What’s-his-face? Need to get things off my chest with that pendejo.”

  “He’s got a few more weeks to vanish. But he won’t. And then we go,” I said.

  “What if he decides to take you out first?”

  “Marcus has his pulse on the situation. He’ll alert us.”

  “What if Darren decides to do something about Marcus?”

  I nodded. “A possibility. Lines are being drawn. The situation is fluid.”

  “You and your honor, migo. Gonna get all three of us killed.”

  “Abandon your body but never your honor.”

  “Who you quoting?”

  “Someone stupendous, no doubt.”

  “If you die, I call dibs on Ronnie."

  She smiled. “Deal.”

  I said, “If I die, throw her into the coffin with me. She won’t mind.”

  “Mackenzie.”

  “Yes Ronnie.”

  “I’m tired of sleeping at my place. And I’m drowsy. May I sleep here tonight?”

  “Mi casa es su casa,” I said.

  “I can translate, you need me to,” said Manny.

  She stood and stretched. Worth the price of admission. “I’m going to bed. You can wake me up later, if you like, for purposes of recreation.”

  “Deal,” said Manny.

  “Not you. Wait until I die,” I said.

  At three in the morning, a gorgeous and needy girl prodded me until I sat up, blinking and stupid.

  Georgina Princess’s paws rested on my bed and she whined softly at a decibel near the upper limit of my range. She’d been poking my arm with her cold nose.

  I rubbed my eyes and whispered. “Yes?”

  I am lonely.

  “Do you need to go out? Nature calls?”

  No I am lonely and I do not know this place well and it does not smell like me and there are no other dogs.

  I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake sleeping beauty. Shoved feet into slippers—they were red and black checkered, very manly, which made it okay—and walked Georgina Princess down the stairs to the back door. I opened it. She sat down and looked at me, wondering why I would be so stupid.

  “You don’t want to go out?”

  No please I want affection.

  “This has been a hard day on you, I bet.”

  Yes, oh yes, very hard.

  I walked back upstairs and sat on the rug in my bedroom near the heating vent. She walked in a circle, once, twice, and laid on the rug. She lowered herself in such a way that she leaned against my leg.

  I placed my hand on her abdomen and rubbed, and then her shoulder and rubbed, and then her back and rubbed.

  Yes, oh thank you, I feel better already.

  She fell asleep soon but I stayed by her side another hour.

  Mackenzie August, super softy.

  Chapter 16

  The following morning, I inspected the house for dog hair. Even I, trained detective, found none. Maybe boxers shed less than other dogs, and shed short hairs at that?

  Georgina Princess Steinbeck and I drove Kix to Roxanne’s. Kix thought a dog being in the car was even more entertaining than Chuggington. I worried he might hyperventilate.

  Afterwards, I stopped at Kroger for dog food and then she and I went to the office. She smelled everything and expressed approval at my masculine potpourri. She ate then
and laid near the creaking water radiator and emanated contentment and I enjoyed it all. A well behaved dog was a delightful companion, turns out. Who knew.

  I gazed at her, channeling all my years of experience and intuition. I thought and I deduced and I unraveled and I stewed. Reveal your secrets, animal. What part do you play in this mess? Impart unto me thine answers.

  Nothing happened.

  I would take her to Ulysses soon. Slight chance seeing the animal would knock loose some hidden memory. Maybe bring him peace. But I doubted it. More work needed to be done.

  The door downstairs banged open. Quick footfalls on the steps and then a girl in my doorway. Not a girl, more like a young woman. Nineteen? Twenty? She wore heeled leather boots and black leggings and an unzipped parka. Beneath the parka, a white shirt far too revealing. She was thin and shivering and her mousy brown hair was held back with gold clips. She brought with her a rush of chilly air.

  Georgina glared suspiciously.

  “You’re Mr. Mackenzie, right,” said the girl. Not really a question. She breathed heavily and her cheeks had pink spots. “Miss Veronica said I could run here. I need a place to sit.”

  “I am and you can.”

  She was already in. Glanced down the stairs. Went to the corner and stood. Made herself small.

  I noted, “That’s not sitting.”

  “Just a few minutes. Then I’ll go, I promise. You aren’t mad? Miss Veronica said I could.”

  “There’s no rush. Is someone terrifying about to charge up the stairs? A politician, perhaps?”

  No response. Still breathing heavily.

  The door downstairs banged a second time. Heavier footsteps. The girl’s face turned white.

  I stood.

  Georgina stood.

  A man paused in the doorway. Old boots, baggy jeans, baggy Steelers jacket, new Steelers ball cap. Slab cheeks, needed a shave. He glanced at me. Glanced at the dog. Acknowledged us with a jerk of his head. From his spot, he couldn’t see the girl cowering in the corner.

  “Yo, you seen a girl run this way? Looking for my sister.”

  “No girls.”

  He looked some more. Thought about coming in.