L.A. Kornetsky - Gin & Tonic 03 - Doghouse

by L. A. Kornetsky

  “How long was he there, Deke?”

  “Dunno. Half an hour, maybe.”

  Enough time to feed animals, but not much else. Depending on how many dogs were down there. Teddy tried to remember the layout of the room: even if they’d all been little things, you couldn’t fit more than five or six cages down there.

  “And the other?”

  “Older than the kid, but not old. Asian, maybe Korean. I never saw his face well enough to tell.” Teddy was impressed Deke could tell the difference at all; most people didn’t pay that much attention. “He’d come by once a month, mostly when I was at work, but I saw him a few times. He’d go downstairs, then leave me the money.”

  “And that was it?”

  “There was one other guy,” Deke said slowly. “I only ever saw him once; he came with the second guy. White. Light hair. Maybe in his fifties? Not anyone you wanted to cross. He had that look, you know? Not a fighter, he wouldn’t hit you clean, he’d take you out from behind. Like Jasper, you remember him?”

  Seth nodded, then shook his head. “Fixer, used to hang around the fights back when I first started. Not someone you wanted to cross, ever. Never got his hands dirty but had guys who’d do the deed for him. Deke, you idiot.”

  “I didn’t…” Deke shrank in on himself even more, and his hands twisted in his lap. “Okay, okay. But how else am I gonna get rent, Seth? Money don’t go so far anymore. I don’t, I can’t…” He reached down to pet Penny, who had leaped down from the stool and was now twining around his ankles. The motion seemed to calm him a little. “I don’t have a job, I don’t have a place to stay. I know Seth said I could stay there but he don’t got room. Am I gonna get locked up again?”

  The meltdown they’d been afraid of was starting to bubble to the surface.

  “No,” Ginny said, even as Teddy hesitated. “You’re not. Calm down, all right? Here,” she said, and handed him the puppy. “I think you both need some quiet time. You come over here, and let him get to know you, okay? And I’ll have Seth make up a sandwich for you while Parsifal has his dinner. That good?”

  For someone who claimed to have no maternal instincts whatsoever, Mallard wasn’t doing half-bad. Teddy watched as Deke let her guide him to the nearest empty booth, waiting while he slid onto the bench, the puppy held carefully in his arms. Parsifal, as though knowing what was expected of him—and still worn-out from his walk—gave Deke’s hand a long, slurpy lick, then curled up in his lap and fell asleep.

  Showing a rare sensitivity—or knowing that she was in no mood for his shit today—Seth waited until Ginny came back to pick up the conversation again.

  “That’s all he knows. Deke ain’t smart enough to lie. Not that much, that long.” Seth shook his head. “You still think you can clear this mess up? He’s an idiot, but…”

  “But you’re right, he’d never do anything to hurt an animal,” Ginny said. “That much is obvious. We’ll do the best we can.”

  “But not tonight,” Teddy said, with a look around the bar. More of the tables were filled now, and the sound level had risen to the point where conversation was getting difficult. Nothing they couldn’t handle, but he was on shift soon, and he needed to focus. And no matter that he seemed calm for the moment, they needed to get Deke out of there before the poor bastard had his—admittedly deserved—meltdown and said something else he shouldn’t, in front of someone who might not be sympathetic.

  “Seth, take the rest of the night off. I think we’re gonna shut the kitchen down tonight. Start training people for when we’re doing renovations.”

  “Renovations?” That was enough to break through Seth’s concern. “What? Damn it, what the hell is Patrick on about this time?”

  Teddy shook his head. “Trust me, don’t ask. That’s my headache for now. Just take Deke home, keep him out of trouble, okay?”

  “Yeah, all right.” Seth scowled again for good measure, as though to reassure everyone that he wasn’t getting soft, and went over to the booth where Deke and Parsifal were sitting.

  “So what next?” Ginny asked. “Because I’m going to admit I’m out of ideas.”

  “For now? I’ve got a shift to work. You can chase leads, and we’ll start again tomorrow, hopefully with more sleep.”

  “I um, kind of have plans tonight…” She raised an eyebrow and dared Teddy to make a crack.

  The temptation to say something was trumped by the urge not to get smacked. “At least someone around here’s got a social life. Go, have fun. Only,” he paused, as though he’d just thought of an objection. “I’m not sure I can in good conscience send Seth home with both Deke and a puppy. You okay taking junior home for the night?”

  “You mean I had a choice? I’m not sure Georgie would let us go home without him.” She sighed, and gave him a look that let him know he wasn’t fooling anyone. “How is it that you’re allegedly fostering him, but I’m doing the actual work?”

  He held up his hands, palms out, in a protestation of innocence. “Hey, cat person here. And I paid for his shots, but you’re already set up for four-footed roommates.”

  Ginny had to acknowledge the truth of that. Teddy wasn’t a pet person. He’d fought against admitting that Penny had claimed him, resisted any suggestion that he get her a collar and tags: only the thought that the tabby might end up in a shelter if animal control caught her got him to agree to having her chipped. And even that had felt like a betrayal. Although, he had to admit, Penny hadn’t seemed particularly bothered by either the trip to the vet or the implant.

  Ginny went over to talk to Seth and Deke, holding out her arms to take Parsifal, smiling a little as the puppy made a contented wuffle and snuggled down in her arms. Georgie groaned and got to her feet, her square-chested body and wrinkled skin making her seem even larger compared to the much smaller terrier. “A couple of days, kid,” he heard Ginny say, “that’s all you get. My building’s a one-pet-per-apartment deal, and as small as you are you don’t get to stay.”

  Teddy smirked a little, hearing that, and watched the odd threesome leave, then looked up to the shelves where Mistress Penny usually resided, watching over her domain. “What do you think the odds are that she adopts the little fuzzbutt anyway?” Then he frowned, not seeing the usual drape of tail curling over the edge. “Huh.” He backed up a little, and looked again. No Penny. He looked at the door, as though he’d spot her there, then did a scan of the area behind the bar. Nothing furred-and-tailed.

  Not that her disappearing was anything new or novel. She was her own cat. She’d come home whenever she finished whatever she was chasing. He didn’t feel at all abandoned, damn it.

  “Hey, barkeep!” one of the newcomers yelled as he settled in at the bar with several of his friends. “Service around here sucks!”

  “Yeah, bite me, Taylor,” he replied, flinging the bar towel over his shoulder with a flourish, and moving down the bar to where Taylor waited, grinning obnoxiously. “It’s not like you ever buy the good beer, anyway.”

  He tucked the case into the back of his brain, put it away until the morning, and focused on the things he could do something about. His real job.

  But even while he was pulling beers and telling Taylor that no, the kitchen was closed tonight, get over it, part of him kept thinking about Deke’s fear, and Parsifal’s sad eyes and malnourished body, and the kind of person who could get off on hurting animals, and he couldn’t let it go.

  He wasn’t an animal person. And he knew you couldn’t save everyone, not even folks who got as far down on the scale as Deke. But he didn’t like bullies, or abusers. The landlord might or might not have known what was going on, but there was no way that Parsifal had been the only animal down there, not with a kid showing up every day, not for five hundred dollars a month, not the way the space had smelled, days after it had probably been cleared out.

  Those animals had been there for a reason, had
disappeared to somewhere, for some reason. And he was pretty damned sure the reason didn’t bode well for the dogs.

  There had to be a trail, something that would lead to the actual culprits, clear Deke, and stop whatever was going on. They just had to find it.

  Penny hesitated once she left the Busy Place, sheltered by the shadow of the building. She watched Georgie padfoot away, her human and the puppy with her. The urge to follow them, to make sure they got home safe, was a sharp tug in Penny’s whiskers. But Georgie was there: she wasn’t always the quickest, but she was strong, and brave, and she had smelled the hurt-fear in the smaller dog, too, for all that the puppy was easily distracted by comfort and new sensations. Georgie knew to be on guard, protect the puppy.Penny had things to do, other things, important things.

  Except… she didn’t know how to do them. Uncertainty dragged at her fur, itched her paws: she was a hunter, listen and smell and quick-move-pounce. But the prey was too quiet for her to hear, too well hidden for her to see. She could smell it, hurt-fear and mean-sour, but that wasn’t enough.

  She leaped onto a fire escape ladder and made her way to the rooftop. A hunt like this needed quiet and moonlight for proper thinking.

  Settled on a narrow ledge, her tail swished back and forth slowly while Penny thought. The humans had talked about other dogs, and bad men. About fighting. Dogs fighting.

  Dogs fought for the right to make a den, or because they were afraid.

  The puppy was afraid.

  The answer was where the puppy had been.

  But the place where the puppy came from was too far away, Georgie said they’d gone in the car for too long; she couldn’t nose a trail, couldn’t find it on her own. And the puppy was too young—too dumb—to tell them anything useful.

  Humans were good at finding things, and stopping other humans from doing bad things. The older human smelled of fear, too. Fear, and the sadness like old dirt. Maybe he knew something? But then, why hadn’t he told Theo and Ginny?

  Her tail lashed again, and her eyes narrowed, ears alert. When a bird hid in the branches, when a mouse went under a leaf, you waited. Eventually, they moved. Penny just had to be patient.

  6

  It’s cold.” The puppy was shivering, brown eyes wide and doleful. Georgie tried to cuddle it closer, but she was awkward with the much smaller body, afraid she might crush it or something. Penny was smaller, but she was shaped differently, and draped over Georgie’s paws rather than huddling. And she was Penny, who always knew what to do. Parsifal didn’t know anything, and Georgie had been left alone, and she didn’t know anything, either.

  But the puppy was cold. “Come here,” she told him, curving her body so that the smaller dog fit against her chest. “It’s all right.” They could get under the blanket, but Herself didn’t like it when Georgie did that. Herself yelled and Georgie was a bad dog, and wasn’t allowed to sleep on the bed that night. And Georgie didn’t think that the floor would be warmer than the bed.

  “Where are the others?”

  “Ginny just went out for a while,” Georgie said. “It feels like forever but she comes back, she always comes back. And Penny is at the Busy Place, or out hunting, and Teddy…” Georgie paused. She wasn’t actually sure where Teddy was. He had a den of his own, she’d been there once, and they were always taking her in the den-that-moved, but she didn’t know where he was right now, and she didn’t like to say things she wasn’t sure of.

  “Others,” the puppy insisted, his tail flipping with frustration. He was too little to really be clear, and couldn’t explain what he meant. Georgie, driven by instinct, licked the top of his head the way Penny did for her when she was upset, and the puppy flopped down again, his voice muffled by the blanket they were lying on. “Where are my others?”

  Georgie knew she wasn’t as smart as Penny, or even Ginny, but she wasn’t dumb, either. “Oh, others! Littermates, you mean? There were other dogs with you, where you were?” The satisfaction of figuring out what Parsifal was talking about made her happy, but then she dropped her muzzle down in frustration. “I don’t know, Parsi. I don’t know where they are. But Ginny and Teddy will find them.” Georgie had faith in her humans. They could do anything. With a little help.

  She needed to talk to Penny.

  “Hey,” Max said, halfway through their appetizers. “What’s the deal, Ms. Fabulous? This is supposed to be our night out, away from jobs and significant others and all that, and you’re… quiet. That’s not the woman I know.”

  “Sorry.” Ginny played with her fork, and then tried to smile at her friend. “I didn’t quite leave the job in the office, I guess.”

  “Same old Virginia Mallard, Overachiever.” That was funny, considering Max was just as much an overachiever, running his small catering company, if not more so. “So what’s up? Clients getting to you?” Max leaned back and gestured imperiously, clearly prepared to hear yet another hopefully entertaining rant about impossible demands and wildly improbable expectations. “C’mon, tell me, what’re besties for? You were working on a cruise, right?”

  Mrs. Mastello and her family of thirty-two, off on an Alaskan cruise, yeah. “Nah, they’re sorted. At least until one cousin decides that she doesn’t want to room with the other, or a grandkid’s college exams require a different flight out, or…” She waved her own hand, her fingernails—blunt-filed and unpolished—flittering as though to say that was same-old-same-old. Ginny was in demand as a private concierge, sorting other people’s plans and problems, not just because she was good at it, but because very little flustered her anymore. She just assumed that her clients would be unreasonable, and charged them accordingly. “No, it’s not that. We, um, we took another case. Tonica and I, I mean.”

  Max just looked at her, waiting for the rest of the story. She compared that—against her will—with the expression Rob had worn when she told him the same thing. Her boyfriend’s face had gone from expectation, maybe amusement, to something else. Worry, maybe. Disappointment, certainly. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that he could issue ultimatums—they wouldn’t have lasted this long if he were—but he didn’t shy away from voicing his opinions, either. And she respected that… most of the time.

  “You know I don’t talk about jobs when I’m still working them,” she said now.

  “Yeah well, I thought you said you weren’t sure if you even wanted to continue with all that?”

  “A friend needed help.” Although she wasn’t sure Seth actually qualified as a friend; not really. Not hers, certainly, and maybe not Tonica’s. But he’d asked, and neither of them had been able to say no.

  Max had known her for years: they’d been in the same cubicle farm, before the company was bought and they were scattered to the wind. He knew better than to push—for now. “Too much to hope that you’re not going to get shot at, or attacked by a giant cat, or arrested this time?”

  Ginny thought about Parsifal, curled up on her pillow when she left the apartment this evening, Georgie asleep at the foot of the bed, and smiled. “No giant cats, I promise.”

  Thinking about Deke’s very real fear, and Seth’s worries, she wasn’t comfortable promising anything else. No guns would be ideal, and not getting arrested… well, they’d never actually gotten arrested, just scolded by people carrying badges. That wasn’t the same thing at all.

  But Max was right about one thing: she wasn’t working tonight. Even overachievers needed down time. So she forced herself to pay attention, listening to Max’s story about a client of his own, while hoping that the puppy hadn’t torn her bedroom up too badly, or had an unfortunate accident. And she absolutely did not think about dogfights, or gangsters, or a man left confused and homeless because other people were jerking him around… .

  Deke was on a string, she thought. Like a marionette, on someone else’s stage. Was the landlord the player, or was he being played, too? And if so, who was pull
ing the strings, and why?

  “Gin.” She looked up, and Max was looking at her, his dark brown eyes kind, and a little amused. “You sure that’s all that’s bothering you? Nothing’s wrong with you and wossisname, is it?”

  “What? No.” She smiled, and let him catch her right hand, the one currently without a fork in it. His fingers were warm, and she thought again that she was fortunate in her friends. Just like Deke. “No, nothing’s wrong there, except maybe me missing him. I promise.”

  That was mostly true. Rob would either get over his reservations about her taking the job while he was away, or… or he wouldn’t. They’d agreed to take on this job because Deke needed help. And the reality was that neither of them, not her or Tonica, was going to stop, or say no to someone in need. No matter how much they knew they probably should.

  Teddy fully intended to sleep in Sunday morning. When you didn’t hit bed until nearly 2 a.m., feet and knees aching from standing all night, six hours of shut-eye was the bare minimum, and eight was better. Barely getting four, two nights in a row… sucked.

  But the universe hadn’t gotten the sleep-in memo, clearly, because his cell phone chimed well before it should have, the morning light still dawn-pale. He reached for the noise with his eyes still gummed with sleep, and his heart filled with thoughts of murder. Who the hell was calling him? Maggie wouldn’t dare call him now, not about the damned house, and Mallard texted. If it was a wrong number he was going to murder someone, God’s own truth.

  When his eyes could focus, he saw the time—6:40—and groaned, but accepted the call.

  “Nothing’s on fire, nobody’s dead,” Seth said, his voice even more of a smoker’s cough than usual.

  “Then why are you calling me?” he growled, already feeling his brain waking up, because if Seth was calling him it had to be an emergency of some sort.

  “Deke’s disappeared. I woke up this morning, and he was gone.”