Dog's Green Earth

by Neil S. Plakcy

  I resisted the urge to hurry Gail, and then grasped the warm mug gratefully. I walked through the swinging door that separated the food-service part of the café to the dog-friendly room and was surprised to see Rochester and Brody snuggled against each other on the floor. At least one worry was banished.

  “How are things going with the house?” I asked Mark, as I slid into the chair across from Mark. He looked more relaxed than he had in a while, and I was glad to see it.

  “We got approved for a mortgage on Drew Greenbaum’s mom’s property yesterday, and we’re going to close in the middle of next month,” he said.

  “That’s awesome. How does Joey feel about all this?”

  “It’s really interesting. We had a long talk at the beginning of the week.”

  I had heard Joey’s end of that story and was interested to hear viewpoint. “And?”

  “He is such a guy,” Mark said. “I know, that sounds silly. But nobody ever taught him to be open about his feelings. He’s had a charmed life, so it never mattered before. But with these problems with his dad, and the new boss at work, he started getting stressed, and he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.”

  “Excuse me for pointing out the obvious, but you’re a guy, too. What makes you different?”

  He picked up his coffee, in a white china mug, and sipped. “I had more problems growing up than Joey did. I had a huge growth spurt when I hit puberty, so I was taller than everybody else in my class, and kids used to make fun of me. One guy coined this named for me, the jolly gay giant, complete with the ho-ho-ho.”

  He pursed his lips, and for a moment it looked like he was blinking back tears. “My grandmother was very sweet, and she encouraged me to tell her when anything was wrong. I got accustomed to talking. Joey never had to learn that skill until now.”

  “And he has?”

  “So far so good. He was worried that I might leave him if he had to do too much for his parents.”

  I was surprised. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “I wouldn’t. But you know how it is when you get caught up in your own head. We talked it through, and I made him confront his worst fears. His dad dying, his mom getting sick and needing lots of help. I convinced him that we would face anything that happened together.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “He’s the youngest son, you know, and he was this big baseball star, so everybody babied him and he never had to step up to any responsibility. But now he’s changing. He’s the one who helped his dad get set up in rehab, and he’s already been over at their house rearranging furniture and helping his mom clear out some junk to make it easier for his dad to move around.”

  “That’s good.”

  “And with buying the house, he’s been a great partner, too. We split up the responsibilities – I handle the financial stuff and he’s doing all the inspection and renovation plans. I know I can trust him to carry through everything, which is a big relief for me.”

  He smiled. “Not that I’m saying he’s been lazy or anything. Joey’s one of the hardest-working guys I know. But it’s the taking responsibility part that shows me he’s changing.”

  “I’m glad for you both. And looking forward to having you guys as neighbors. I’ve got my eye on that back yard of yours as a doggie playground.”

  “Joey’s already a step ahead of you. He’s drawing up landscaping plans to make shady places for Brody to rest, and a straight stretch for him to run and chase Frisbees.”

  We chatted some more as we drank, and the dogs nuzzled each other. Then Mark had to open the antique store. I gave up waiting for Rick to call me, and took Rochester up to the canal park. As he raced around, I kept looking at my phone, hoping Rick would call with information about what was happening with Earl Garner.

  I felt bad for Garner’s wife and son, to see the police show up to investigate, maybe even to witness Garner being arrested. But that was the way the world worked. People did bad things, and those around them had to suffer, too, even though they weren’t at fault.

  Had anyone else suffered when I went to prison? I never knew how Mary felt at that time. We had stopped talking to each other after the second miscarriage, and after my arrest, while I waited for my trial, neither of us mentioned the chance that I’d go to prison. She worked with an attorney during that time, though I didn’t realize it until she had me served with divorce papers during my first week inside. That showed how deep our lack of communication ran.

  I was sure my father had been hurt, too. He never understood exactly what I had done, or why, just that I’d broken the law and had to be punished. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was suffering with his own fatal diagnosis, not wanting to worry me or add extra pressure.

  Lack of communication all around. I was glad that Joey and Mark were talking. I had tried to remedy that problem with Lili. She and I talked about everything, the good and the bad. When we were angry with each other, we explained why, and figured out a common ground, instead of retreating into silence. She knew everything about my job at Friar Lake, my friendships and my occasional forays into hacking.

  I knew about her marriages, her divorces, the dangers she had faced as a photojournalist. She shared the joys and frustrations of her teaching and administrative work, and her love for photography. There were things I had yet to learn about her, and that I had yet to tell her about me, but they were minor things that would come up eventually.

  Earl Garner and his wife, however, had reached a point when their secrets would become public knowledge, and even if he had murdered a man in cold blood, I felt sorry for him and his family.

  28: Two-Headed Wolf

  Rick finally called me that evening. The officers had prevented Garner and his family from leaving while they searched the house and the van. They found Garner’s knife, which matched the kind of blade used to kill Todd Chatzky, and independently located evidence that showed Garner and his board had abused their fiduciary duties at River Bend.

  Rick had compared the wheels on Garner’s chair to the marks on the pavement near where Todd’s body had been found, and they matched. He had spoken with Oscar Panaccio, who confirmed that he had seen Todd leave the clubhouse on foot, and that Garner had followed in his wheelchair.

  It was still a lot of circumstantial evidence, but it was enough to arrest Garner for the murder of Todd Chatzky. Garner hadn’t said a word, and had immediately invoked his right to counsel, calling in a Temple law classmate who specialized in criminal defense.

  “He’s going to be a hard nut to crack,” Rick said. “I doubt he will admit to anything, which means I’m going to have to work even harder to prove what he did.”

  “If I can help you with anything, let me know.”

  “I will. Right now it’s just a matter of solid policework.”

  Within a week, we received a certified letter from Pennsylvania Properties that because of financial improprieties, the board of directors of River Bend had been dismissed. The new property manager would handle all decisions until a new board could be elected and impaneled.

  One evening soon after we got the letter from the management company, I was at dinner with Lili and said, “I was thinking. I’d like to have this house retitled in both our names.”

  She looked up at me. “Really?”

  “Why not? I want you to be protected in case anything happens to me. If you’re on the deed as a joint tenant with right of survivorship, the house goes directly to you, without probate. You’re already on my pension and the one who inherits all my investments.”

  “You want me to run for the board, don’t you?”

  I smiled. “You’re always one step ahead of me, sweetheart. But yes, if you’re an owner, you’re eligible to run for the board, and I think you’d do a terrific job. Is that something you want?”

  “I think so. I want to do my part to bring the property values back up and to make this a safe, happy place for us to live.”

  The message boards on Hi Neighbor
began buzzing with posts about Todd’s death and Earl Garner’s arrest, and suggestions for new board members. The management company discovered that the board had squirreled away money to pay for road repairs but never hired a company to do the work, so they did, and one evening, as I was walking Rochester, the smell of hot tar floated in the late autumn air.

  Ahead of us, I saw Epiphania Kosta. She had her older son by the hand, and the younger one was in a pouch on the chest of the man with her. “Steve, this is my husband Nick,” she said. “I told him about what a great job you did for the League at Friar Lake.”

  We shook hands, which was kind of awkward with the baby between us. “I work for Polymathia University – we’re a user-friendly mostly online operation, but some of our degrees require occasional in-person sessions.”

  I wondered if the choice of a Greek name meant it was Nick’s company, and asked.

  “Nope, I’m just the vice president for facility management. We’re making a name for ourselves in the for-profit college zone because we vet our candidates very thoroughly, and encourage them to use scholarships and grants to fund their education rather than taking out big loans.”

  Interesting, but I’d have to research Polymathia online and make sure they were as honest as Nick Kosta said.

  “We have been hosting occasional in-person sessions at St. Barnabas College in Philadelphia, but they’re shutting down and selling the property to a real estate developer. Do you think we could use Friar Lake?”

  “What would you need?”

  The baby kicked him in the stomach as we talked, and we agreed that he would email me a list of his requirements, and I’d see what I could do. As we said goodbye, I heard the landscape company working on the hedges down the street from us. The management had been reprimanded, and our hedges were now neatly trimmed, the yards mowed and edged. A couple of broken light fixtures had been replaced and the brick pavers at a couple of intersections repaired, along with the piece of sidewalk where Sylvia Greenbaum had fallen.

  The next morning I researched Polymathia, and then checked with President Babson. I was worried that he wouldn’t approve of connecting Eastern with a competitor, but he reassured me he was happy to support education—and bring in revenue whenever he could.

  Over a period of weeks, Nick Kosta and I negotiated a plan for the winter term. An executive MBA program would meet for a total of eight three-day weekends at Friar Lake, while the low-residency MFA program in creative writing would take over the facility for two weeks in mid-May. The revenue from those programs gave me a comfortable cushion against any cost-cutting efforts from the administration and secured my job for the next year at least.

  Within a month of Todd Chatzky’s death cold weather had us firmly in its grip. It was hard to judge the job the landscapers were doing, because all the leaves had fallen and been blown away, and hedges and lawns were in hibernation. It would take until the first snowfall to see if they kept up the improvement in their performance.

  One morning in early December I sat down with Joey to go over our plans for the winter break. The last day of class was the eighth of December, with a week of final exams. Grades were due in the college mainframe a day after that, and then the college shut down until the first week of January.

  Though Joey and I were both on vacation, we set up a schedule so that one of us visited Friar Lake each week the facility was shut down to make sure no pipes burst or windows shattered while we were gone.

  I was pleased to see that Joey had returned to his cheerful, happy-go-lucky self. “Any plans for the break?” I asked.

  “Work on the house,” he said. “My dad got out of rehab last week, and he’s going to come over and supervise me, hold the ladder for me and that kind of thing.”

  “Have you heard anything about Sylvia Greenbaum?”

  “I spoke to Drew last week. He’s got her in a good quality memory care facility near where he lives in Virginia, and he’s getting his real estate license so he can have a flexible schedule to check in with her.”

  “That’s great.”

  Joey leaned back, stretching his long legs out beside Rochester. “How about you?”

  “I think I might be able to relax,” I said. “I found someone else to take over the financial planning programs for the professor on sabbatical and booked a couple of other small meetings for January and February. With the revenue from Polymathia University I’ll be able to exceed all my goals for the winter term. That means I can chill, read, play with Rochester and hang out with Lili.”

  I got a different opinion of life with Joey and Mark when I ran into Mark at The Chocolate Ear a couple of days later. Our coffee maker had broken, and while I waited for the Amazon elves to ship me a new one I dropped into Gail’s on the way to work with Rochester by my side. He was happy to get a biscuit there, and I wondered if secretly he had planned to sabotage the coffee maker for just that reason.

  Sometimes, you don’t know with dogs.

  “How come you’re here, and not home preparing for your open house this weekend?” I asked Mark. Brody wasn’t with him, but Rochester greeted him effusively nonetheless.

  “Because my father-in-law is there, and the two-headed wolf scares me.” Mark had always joked that Joey’s last name meant “head of the wolf” in Italian, and that when he and his father got together they were so similar that it was like having a two-headed wolf around.

  “Come on, Joe Senior isn’t that bad. And he and Joey’s mom love you.”

  “They do, and I’m very grateful for that, believe me. But Joe Senior has an opinion on every tool Joey uses, every way he turns the wrench. He criticizes the way Joey holds a hammer as if he was a golf pro analyzing a swing.”

  “And Joey puts up with that?”

  “He says that he almost lost his dad, so he’s willing to tolerate some irritation. Which, by the way, is a major change. Six months ago Joey would have politely escorted his dad out of the house and double-locked the door behind him.”

  “Ah, for that happy-go-lucky boy you fell in love with,” I said.

  “He’s still around.” Mark smiled. “Just not twenty-four-seven.”

  “And that, my friend, is the issue with growing up,” I said.

  I drove up to Friar Lake with Rochester by my side, the heat on in the car but the passenger window cracked enough that he could stick his snout out of it. That morning I heard from Rick. Earl Garner still hadn’t said a word about Todd’s death, but enough circumstantial evidence had been accumulated, and Earl’s old law-school pal had convinced him to take a plea deal rather than stand trial for murder. As part of that, Pennsylvania Properties agreed not to push forward complaints against Garner or any of the other board members for lack of fiduciary responsibility.

  Garner’s home was on the market, and I had a small sense of satisfaction that property values had not bounced up yet, so he was likely to take a loss. The more important loss, though, would be the one Garner’s son felt when his father was in prison. I had seen them playing ball together, felt the connection between them, and now that would be gone.

  Saturday evening, we brought Rochester over to Joey and Mark’s new house for the big party. They had already made friends with many of the dog owners and canines in the community, so when we got there, Brody was in the chilly back yard romping with Gargamel the English Setter and Angel the white Coton de Tulear. I sent Rochester out there to play with his friends.

  It was a warm, happy evening, and I was glad that Joey and Mark were settling easily into River Bend, and that Joe Senior had recovered from his heart attack. I wished him well, though I didn’t add that I hoped the two-headed wolf would continue to thrive.

  I gave a toast later, in which I welcomed Joey, Mark and Brody, and said that I hoped our neighborhood would be well-kept and happy for a long time to come. Outside, the wind shook the branches of the pines and Norway spruce, the gibbous moon shone a path to the doorway, and a pair of squirrels paused in the newly paved street, then
romped together up into the trees.

  Thanks for reading about Steve and Rochester! Dog’s Green Earth is the tenth in the series—have you read them all?

  THE SERIES IN ORDER

  In Dog We Trust

  The Kingdom of Dog

  Dog Helps Those

  Dog Bless You

  Whom Dog Hath Joined

  Dog Have Mercy

  Honest to Dog

  Dog is in the Details

  Dog Knows

  Dog’s Green Earth

  If you’re a Kindle Unlimited reader, you’ll find omnibus volumes of books 1-3 (Three Dogs in a Row) and books 4-6 (Three More Dogs in a Row).

  Author’s Note

  Rick’s four motives for murder, love, lust, lucre and loathing, come from a quote by P.D. James. But since he’s a cop rather than a reader, he doesn’t realize that.

  This book is for Brody and Griffin, and for their daddy.

  “Put me anywhere on God’s green earth, I’ll triple my worth.” Jay-Z, “U Don’t Know”

  About the Author

  Neil Plakcy’s golden retriever mysteries are inspired by his own golden, Samwise, who was just as sweet as Rochester, though not quite as smart. And fortunately he didn’t have Rochester’s talent for finding dead bodies. Now that Sam has gone on to his big, comfy bed in heaven, his place by Neil’s side has been taken by Brody and Griffin, a pair of English Cream goldens with a penchant for mischief.

  A native of Bucks County, PA, where the golden retriever mysteries are set, Neil is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, Columbia University and Florida International University, where he received his MFA in creative writing. A professor of English at Broward College’s South Campus, he has written and edited many other books; details can be found at his website, http://www.mahubooks.com. He is also past president of the Florida chapter of Mystery Writers of America.