The Case of the Itinerant Ibizan

by B R Snow

  The Case of the

  Itinerant Ibizan

  A Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Mystery

  B.R. Snow

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either used fictitiously or are the product of the author’s imagination. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written consent of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and punishable by law.

  Copyright © 2017 B.R. Snow

  ISBN: 978-1-942691-28-0

  Website: www.brsnow.net/

  Twitter: @BernSnow

  Facebook: facebook.com/bernsnow

  Cover Design: Reggie Cullen

  Cover Photo: James R. Miller

  Other Books by B.R. Snow

  The Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Mysteries

  The Case of the Abandoned Aussie

  The Case of the Brokenhearted Bulldog

  The Case of the Caged Cockers

  The Case of the Dapper Dandie Dinmont

  The Case of the Eccentric Elkhound

  The Case of the Faithful Frenchie

  The Case of the Graceful Goldens

  The Case of the Hurricane Hounds

  The Whiskey Run Chronicles

  Episode 1 – The Dry Season Approaches

  Episode 2 – Friends and Enemies

  Episode 3 – Let the Games Begin

  Episode 4 – Enter the Revenuer

  Episode 5 – A Changing Landscape

  Episode 6 – Entrepreneurial Spirits

  Episode 7 – All Hands On Deck

  The Whiskey Run Chronicles – The Complete Volume 1

  The Damaged Posse

  American Midnight

  Larrikin Gene

  Sneaker World

  Summerman

  The Duplicates

  Other Books

  Divorce Hotel

  Either Ore

  To Summer

  Chapter 1

  I guess four o’clock in the morning, softly lit by a full moon, is as good a time as any to do a little self-reflection and contemplate the wonder and power of Mother Nature. And that’s exactly what I was doing while staring out the picture window of our living room at the water level that continued to rise and swallow the shoreline. But I wasn’t alone. Chloe, my Aussie Shepherd, had her paws up on the windowsill, as did Captain, Josie’s massive Newfie. Both of them were staring out the window, but they weren’t focused on the water level. They were more interested in the dog that was sitting on our dock underneath a lamppost and staring up at the house. The dog was easy to see in the light, and it had definitely piqued both dogs’ interest since their heads were cocked and they were emitting a low guttural growl.

  “Sure, you’re both really brave when you’re inside the house,” I said, laughing.

  Captain glanced at me and woofed once.

  “Hey, he’s not bothering anybody, so let’s not wake everybody else up, okay?”

  Captain snorted and focused on the intruder sitting on the dock. Al and Dente, Chef Claire’s Golden Retrievers, trotted into the living room looking for the reason behind the woof. I rubbed Captain’s head vigorously and turned around to greet both Goldens.

  “Big mouth,” I said to Captain. “Did he wake you guys up?”

  Al and Dente said their hellos then stretched out in front of the fireplace and went back to sleep. Moments later, Josie entered rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

  “Is everything okay? I thought I heard Captain voicing his displeasure about something.”

  “You did. We have a new friend down on the dock,” I said, nodding out the window.

  “Is that an Ibizan?” Josie said, yawning.

  “Yeah,” I said, then frowned. “How did you pronounce it?”

  “I-be-zan.”

  “Is that the correct pronunciation? I’ve always said I-be-thin.”

  “That sounds more like wishful thinking,” she said, grinning at me.

  “Shut it.”

  “Or maybe you’ve developed a bit of a lisp.”

  “Geez, Josie, it’s four in the morning. Don’t start,” I said, gently punching her on the arm.

  “Not bad, huh? And I haven’t even had my coffee.”

  “I made a pot,” I said, nodding at the kitchen.

  “Which leads me directly to my next question. What the heck are you doing up at four in the morning?”

  “It’s the first day of summer,” I said, looking back out the window at the Ibizan that continued to stare at the house.

  “It’s going to be the first day of summer all day, Suzy.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I thought I might do a bit of fishing this morning.”

  “You didn’t say anything about going fishing.”

  “Would you have wanted to come along?”

  “Do I look like an idiot? Absolutely not,” Josie said, kneeling down to rub Captain’s head.

  “There you go. Then there was no point mentioning it.”

  “Suzy, you can’t go riding around in your boat in the dark with the water level this high. You’ve seen some of the crap floating in the River. Not to mention all the docks that are right below the surface just waiting for you to run into them.”

  “Hey, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m an expert boatswoman.”

  “Boatswoman?” she said, frowning. I don’t think that’s a word.”

  “Well, it oughta be,” I said as I scratched Chloe’s ears. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my searchlight, and I’m going to go really slow.”

  “I can’t believe I even have to tell you how dangerous it is out there in the dark. And it’s also extremely dumb.”

  “It’s not the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” I said, shrugging.

  “Maybe not. But it’s a lot like it. Are you taking Chloe?”

  “No, it’s too dan…early.”

  “Nice try,” Josie said, shaking her head. “Just remember to take your phone in case something happens. Please, go very slow out there. And be careful you don’t kill yourself.” She fell silent for a moment then nodded to herself. “Okay, my work is done here. I’m going back to bed.”

  “Should I put the Ibizan in one of the condos?”

  “Sure, if he lets you get close. If he doesn’t, don’t worry about it. You’ll never catch him.”

  She turned and tossed a quick wave over her shoulder as she headed for her bedroom trailed by Captain. Chloe stretched out next to Al and Dente and fell asleep. I looked back out the window at the Ibizan who continued to look up at the house. And if I didn’t know better, I would have sworn he was staring at me.

  Given the fact that it was going to take me close to an hour to get where I was going, I headed for the kitchen door and managed to get out without waking the dogs. I walked down the steps, continued past the Inn, then down the front lawn. I walked across the makeshift walkway we’d set up a few weeks ago after the water had risen another six inches, and I stepped onto the edge of the floating dock.

  A couple of years ago, our good friend, Rooster, had done everything he could to convince us to go with a floating dock when we had to replace our old one. Countless times over the past few months, I’d congratulated myself that we’d been smart enough to listen to him. Not only could the dock be removed in the winter thereby eliminating damage from snow and ice, but it was a Godsend this year since it moved up and down with any change i
n the water level. Several of our friends were dealing with submerged docks at the moment, and it was making their lives miserable. And it wasn’t doing much for the docks either.

  I stopped on the edge of the dock and studied the Ibizan who continued to sit quietly and watch me. The Beezer, as the breed was commonly called, was young but not a puppy. The dog had a gorgeous brown and white coat and was lean even by Ibizan standards. I took a step forward, and it must have decided it had seen enough because it raced down the dock toward me. I froze in my tracks, then the dog launched into the air and cleared my shoulder by a foot. Stunned, I watched it sprint across our lawn, turn right, then disappear into the darkness.

  “Wow,” I said, dazzled by the dog’s agility. “Nimble.”

  I untied the lines, hopped into the boat, and fired up the engine. I turned on the searchlight and slowly made my way to deeper water. As I scanned the lit area directly in front of the boat, I reviewed the long list of questions that had been bouncing around my head since I’d witnessed the event last September that precipitated my decision to be out on the River at this very moment. I hated lying to Josie, and I tried to remember if this was, in fact, the first time I had ever intentionally deceived her. I knew I’d eventually explain everything to her and she would forgive me, but telling her about my plan upfront would have been met with anger and frustration and a whole bunch of questions I couldn’t answer yet.

  I veered around what looked like a half-submerged kayak, and I slowed even more until I was well past a few other items that seemed to be fighting the urge to sink to the bottom of the River. Josie was right. What I was doing was incredibly stupid, but this was my one and only chance this year to see if my assumptions about her ex-boyfriend were correct. If they were, every spiritual bone in my body was about to be shattered and replaced by…

  I slowed the boat even more as I pondered what they might be replaced by.

  Then I realized I didn’t have a clue.

  I guess when everything you thought you knew gets altered or replaced, one should probably expect a sense of wonder, or at least a touch of uncertainty, to follow.

  I did my best not to produce any wake as I accelerated and drove through the surreal, often frightening, darkness engulfed by a body of water that made it perfectly clear she was in charge, and I was but a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things.

  Chapter 2

  A white-knuckled, half-hour later, in the dim early morning light, I spotted the island I was looking for, and I anchored nearby and turned off the searchlight. I rummaged through my backpack, located my binoculars, and a container of snacks I’d brought with me. I decided I was in the mood for something salty, so I munched cashews by the handful. When I realized I’d worked my way through half the bag in ten minutes, I put them away and switched to bite-sized Snickers. After quickly devouring a half dozen, I slid the container into my backpack and chugged a bottle of water. And after chalking up my bottomless pit to nervous tension, I sat quietly and waited.

  Just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, I saw two shadows appear on the surface of the water about a hundred feet away. I pulled anchor and immediately began to drift toward them. They were both excited and thrashed in the water oblivious to my presence. I went back and forth about using the searchlight, then finally decided to turn it on. When the light hit both of them in the eyes, the dog barked loudly and inched closer to the man who was holding a hand up to shield his eyes. The dog’s growl continued to reverberate across the water as it swam small, protective circles around the man.

  “Turn that thing off,” the man snapped, treading water.

  “Sorry,” I said, turning the searchlight off.

  “Who are you?”

  “It’s me, Summerman. Suzy Chandler.”

  “Suzy? Geez, I don’t believe it,” the man said, shaking his head. “Should I even ask what you’re doing out here?”

  “Oh, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and say hello. Hey, Murray.”

  The massive dog, a Newfoundland-Golden Retriever mix that was easy to mistake for a small tiger, woofed a couple of times, then lost interest in me and swam toward the island. Summerman followed, and soon they reached shore and Summerman, naked as the day he was born, took a moment to stretch his back and limbs, and then grabbed a stick and threw it. The dog raced after it, then returned and forced Summerman into a game of tuggy. I started the boat, inched slowly toward shore, then hopped out and pulled it up on the bank of sand and rock.

  I did my best to avert my eyes as Summerman glared at me. Then he nodded for me to follow him. He and the dog headed for a stone structure I knew was called the library, and I stepped inside and stood in the doorway. Murray, still holding the stick like it was a prize possession, looked up at me, and I knelt down to pet and rub his wet fur. Then he dropped the stick at my feet, and I threw it as far as I could. The dog dashed after it, and I stepped inside.

  Summerman continued to glare at me as he tied his robe, then he sat down at the grand piano and started playing. He repeated the same melody line several times as if committing it to memory, then he sat upright on the piano bench and shook his head at me again. Murray woofed from the other side of the screen door.

  “You know how to open it,” Summerman said to the dog without glancing up from the piano.

  Murray softly woofed, sounding a bit miffed that he had to do it himself, but he tapped the bottom of the door with a paw, caught the partially open door with his head, then wiggled his way through. He trotted across the floor and sprawled out at Summerman’s feet, staring up at him.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Summerman said, getting to his feet. “Sorry, Murray.”

  The dog sat up on his haunches with an expectant look on his face.

  “You want a Guinness, Suzy?” Summerman said, heading for the fridge.

  “No, thanks. I usually wait until the sun comes up.”

  Summerman shrugged and returned carrying two bottles and a dog dish. He opened both and slowly poured, then set the bowl down on the floor. We watched Murray make short work of them, then he burped and stretched back out under the piano.

  “It’s sort of a tradition,” Summerman said by way of explanation. “Okay, we have a real problem here, and I need to know. What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I was just out doing a bit of fishing and…well, there you were.”

  “Suzy, we’re about to have a very difficult conversation. And you lying to me is only going to make it harder.”

  “Okay, I came out here to look for you.”

  “Oh, I wish you wouldn’t have done that,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I don’t understand why it’s a problem,” I said.

  “It’s potentially a very big problem.”

  “For you?”

  “For all of us,” he said, staring hard at me. “And, yes, that most definitely includes you.”

  The hairs on the back of my head tingled for a moment, but I remained silent.

  “Why show up today?” Summerman said.

  “It’s the first day of summer,” I said, shrugging. “After I saw you and Murray go into the water and disappear on the last day of summer, I tried putting two and two together and figured out it was worth a shot. I thought it might clarify a few things, but now I’m more confused than ever.”

  “You’re such a snoop.”

  “Yeah, I should probably start working on that.”

  Despite his anger, he managed a small laugh. He played the same melody line a few more times, then added to it, and it was obvious that he would much rather be playing the piano than dealing with me. But he stopped and stared off into the distance as if formulating his thoughts.

  “Is that new?” I said.

  “Yes. I wanted to make sure I committed it to memory. It’s been rolling around my head for a while.”

  “For how long?”

  “Nice try. If you want to go fishing, stick with the smallmouth,” he said, glancing ove
r at me.

  “Point taken. But I should probably warn you, I have a lot of questions.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “Should I just get started?”

  “Knock yourself out,” he said, reaching down to rub Murray’s head.

  “Okay,” I said, exhaling loudly. “Let’s start with this one. What the hell are you?”

  Summerman laughed and looked down at Murray.

  “She wants to know what we are, Murray. Do you think we should tell her?”

  Murray cocked his head and barked loudly once.

  “That’s a no,” Summerman said. “In case you didn’t get it.”

  “Do you always listen to his advice?”

  “I always listen, but I don’t always take it. In this case, I’m going to ignore it.”

  “Because you want to unburden yourself, right?”

  “No, because if I don’t explain a few things, you’re going to drive me nuts all summer asking the same questions over and over. And that would not be a good thing.”

  Again, the hairs on the back of my neck tingled and, this time, I scratched the itch.

  “What are you, Summerman?” I repeated.

  “That’s a really good question,” he whispered, reaching down to rub the dog’s head. “But for lack of a better term, I’m what’s called a part-timer.”

  “Part-timer. But you’re not talking about a category of employment,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, I’m not,” he said, smiling. “A part-timer as in I’m only here in this form part of the year.”

  “Form? As in human form?”

  “Yes.”

  “As weird as that sounds, Summerman, I’m gonna let that pass for the moment. Where are you the rest of the time?”

  Summerman spread his arms wide and glanced up at the ceiling.

  “Out there.”

  “I’m going to need a bit more,” I said, frowning.