She rolled her eyes at his description of their working process, but didn’t disagree.
Georgie hadn’t wanted to go back into the Old Place. The last time she had gone in there, bad things had happened. She’d been left with other dogs, and her humans had been attacked, and Penny had almost gotten hurt, and now the sharp smells of the cages and the things they used to keep it all clean made her want to stiffen her back legs and not let them go in, not let them leave her sight.
“Georgie?”
Ginny’s voice was questioning, not angry, not yet, but the rising voice that meant Georgie was doing something wrong.
Georgie let her leg muscles relax and followed at Ginny’s heel, like a good dog. She let them leave her in the room with the carpet that smelled of too many other animals, where there were too many strangers. She put her head down on her paws and didn’t whine when they left the room with another human, even though she knew she was supposed to be with them. She had to trust her humans. And she had to pay attention to what happened around her, be alert, see everything she could see, smell everything, and remember it. Penny said so. Anything could be important.
Georgie could do this. She could watch, and she could smell, and she could listen, and she’d remember, all of it, to tell Penny.
She wished they hadn’t left Parsifal back home, though. She wasn’t good at worrying about two things at once.
“Misappropriated dogs? I’m afraid it is a problem, yes. Medical labs willing to cut corners, unscrupulous backyard breeders, even the occasional pet hoarder… We try to screen everyone who adopts, as Ms. Mallard knows, but it happens.”
Much to their surprise, Este Snyder, the director of the shelter, had agreed to speak with them. Ginny wasn’t sure if the woman no longer held a grudge about what they had uncovered about the soap-opera-worthy goings-on there, or if she was professional enough to let it go for the moment and would go back to shoving pins in voodoo dolls after they left, but she welcomed the help.
They were seated in the back room office, still as paper-cluttered as it had been six months ago. Ginny noticed that the photos that had been there previously were now missing, and decided not to ask about anyone else they had met during the case. She would rather be thought rude than step into the middle of something messy. Again.
“If people know about this,” her partner asked, “why—”
“Why isn’t something done?” Este sighed. “You can make something illegal, Mr. Tonica, but you can’t always stop it. Especially not when there is money to be made. And people… there are many people out there who don’t see dogs and cats as having actual emotions, don’t feel any obligation to the creatures we’ve domesticated.”
He nodded, his hands folded in his lap, his expression fixed in polite inquisition. Ginny once again had a flash of envy at how casually comfortable he was, talking to people. Her stomach was in flutter mode, and she was trying to juggle too many thoughts at once. Even her tablet, ready at her lap, wasn’t helping, because she really didn’t have anything to write up.
“Truthfully, theft is more of an issue than gray-market adoption. We keep our prices low for families to adopt, but we also price it high enough to discourage idle or malicious adoptions. In addition, several states have databases of known animal abusers who are banned from adopting, and we ask for references, although we rarely have time to check them all.”
“Someone warned me about dog thieves this morning, while I was walking Georgie,” Ginny said. “I noticed that you have a lot of lost-dog posters in the lobby. Has there been an uptick recently?”
“Nothing that I’m aware of, although it’s entirely possible. We track any reported missing animals, so that if they show up here we can alert the owner,” Este said. “I have been told that gangs will hit a neighborhood over a period of a few weeks, and then move on. By the time the residents realize that there’s been a pattern, and alert the police, they’re gone.” She shook her head. “It’s a terrible thing.” She glanced down at her laptop, obviously checking the time, and then stood up. “If I can be of any further help, please do call.”
That was a more polite get-out-of-my-office than Ginny had been expecting. She stood and shook Este’s hand, then waited for Tonica to do the same before they went back out into the lobby.
Georgie was waiting for them, lolling on the carpet while a little girl of about ten rubbed the dog’s belly.
“You’re disgraceful,” Ginny told the shar-pei, reaching down to attach the leash without getting in the girl’s way. “Come on, sweetie, let your playmate find her own puppy.”
“We’re getting a kitten,” the girl said, and her grin was infectiously happy. “Maybe even two!”
“Lisa!” Her father called her over, and the girl got to her feet and, with a last pat on Georgie’s head, ran to join him at the door to the large “socialization” room, where the cats were allowed to roam freely with prospective adopters.
“Good luck!” Ginny called, and the receptionist, a woman with a wild array of blond dreadlocks, gave them a dirty look, as though her wishes were enough to jinx the little girl. Clearly, not everyone had forgiven them.
“Pity they didn’t want a tiny little puppy,” Tonica said as they left. “I notice you didn’t say anything to anyone about having an animal to surrender… .”
“Shut up,” she said. They’d left Parsifal sleeping in the dog bed, with plans for Stacy to swing by later and puppy-sit, but Georgie had looked so pitiful, waiting at the door, as though she didn’t want to be left out, Ginny had decided to take the larger dog along.
The little parking lot outside the shelter was half full. It was only just past noon, when the shelter officially opened for adoptions, and Ginny found herself eyeballing everyone she saw, wondering if they were legitimate, or the front for a vile dognapping scheme.
“Stop that,” Tonica said.
“What?”
“That thing where you’re assuming everyone’s a villain. Stop it. Your hairy eyeball could scare off a saint.”
“My what?”
“That. That look you give. It’s a hairy eyeball, and it’s terrifying. Even Georgie’s scared.”
“Go to hell,” she said, but tried to rein in the side-eye looks. He was right, the odds that someone would be here, right now, with that in mind… Yeah. A little paranoia was healthy, but that was a bit much.
“You working this afternoon?” Tonica used to have Mondays off, but his promotion to manager had changed his schedule severely.
“Not until six. Carl’s doing scut work and deliveries while Jon’s at the bar.”
“Carl and Jon?” She shook her head. “That’s not going to end well.”
He sighed. “Jon’s a talented asshat,” he admitted. “I wish he’d just quit already. He got up Stace’s nose, that she’s working weekends and he’s not.”
“And I bet she meekly backed down and agreed to give him Friday nights?”
“Oh, yeah.” He chuckled, stepping over the parking lot curb to the sidewalk, and waited for Georgie and Ginny to join him. “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”
“So which is more tangled: bar politics, or this case?”
“This case,” he said, but it took him a moment to decide. “At least with bar politics, I can see all the players, even if I don’t know what they’re up to. Here, not so much. We’ve got a cop, trained to be suspicious, who sees something and makes assumptions, but we also have the director of the local animal shelter who hasn’t heard a specific peep.”
“Yeah well, we already know that she’s not good at seeing things she doesn’t want to see.”
“True.”
They walked down the street, toward the busier downtown area. “So we’re back to the name you got. Lewis Hollins. The podiatrist. Who, on the surface, is squeaky clean.” Ginny smiled, a quiet, almost satisfied curl of her lip that he’
d learned to recognize. “Squeaky clean always makes me curious.”
“Yeah. We love that about you. I—” He stopped, and put a hand on her arm. “Gin.”
She glanced at where he was looking. It seemed the normal urban streetscape: a handful of people walking on the sidewalk, someone crossing against the light, a small delivery truck too far from the curb. At first scan she didn’t see what had caused him to react, then her sense of the scene recalibrated, and instead of a guy unhooking his dog from a signpost, she saw the way the dog wasn’t reacting to him, the lack of enthusiastic greeting dogs gave even when you’d only left them for three minutes to run in and grab a cup of coffee. More, the nervous twitch of the guy’s shoulders when he looked around, clearly uneasy, and she was heading down the street only a half step behind Tonica, Georgie loping along without question.
“Hey!” Tonica called. “You with the dog!”
The guy—a kid, really, for all that he had broad shoulders and a decent beard—half turned, then stood up, abandoning the dog and looking like he was about to make a run for it.
“Georgie!” Then Ginny hesitated, because did she really want to sic her dog on a guy who might just be an idiot, not a criminal? Before she could decide, Georgie still waiting for the next command, Tonica had taken the decision out of her hands. He’d already reached the guy, placing one large hand on his shoulder and using his I-used-to-be-a-bouncer voice to ask, “Where you going without your dog, son?”
“Not my dog,” the kid mumbled, his eyes wide but not daring to shake Tonica’s hand off. “Friend’s. We’re having a few beers, I said I’d walk the damned thing, if he picked up the tab. But it looked like it was going to bite me, so screw that, he can come get it himself.”
Tonica kept his hand on the kid’s arm. “Great. Let’s go talk to your friend. Ginny, stay with the pup, okay?”
In case the real owner came by, she understood, which would be proof that the kid had been trying to steal it. Ginny would rather have gone along, because she trusted that kid about as far as she could throw him, but knew that Tonica wouldn’t be dumb enough to go anywhere he could get jumped, or otherwise have the odds changed.
She watched them head off to the bar down the street and shook her head. She might leave Georgie tied up outside Mary’s, but she could keep an eye on things through the front window. The poor dog was probably convinced he’d been abandoned. No wonder he was giving off unhappy vibes, especially if he didn’t know his owner’s friend.
“Georgie, sit,” she said, making sure that her dog was a fair distance away from the other animal just in case the guy was right. Now that she was closer, she could tell that it was some kind of German shepherd mix, and either very young or terribly underfed.
“Poor thing,” she said to it, keeping her voice low and not making eye contact, the way their trainer had advised dealing with possibly aggressive dogs. It whined a little but kept its head on the ground and its tail didn’t wag, so she stayed put, out of potential lunging range. “You look like you need a bath. And a few weeks of good food. Your owner isn’t treating you right, is he? I don’t blame you for growling. But you shouldn’t bite, not unless you’re trained to do it on command. And even then you’ve got to be careful.”
She knew she probably sounded like a nutcase; only the fact that she was wearing clean clothes and had taken a shower that morning was keeping passers-by from assuming she was a street person.
“What do you think, Georgie? Is this a good doggie or a bad doggie?”
Her dog gave a heavy sigh and inched forward a little toward Ginny—also, she noted, staying out of reach of the other dog, who had opened his eyes and was watching her, but otherwise made no move.
She decided not to offer her hand for sniffing, just in case, and settled in on her haunches to wait, falling into an almost pleasant fugue state as people skirted around the three of them.
“Kid’s telling the truth,” Tonica said, and she startled, almost falling over.
“That was fast.”
“Yeah, well, the owner took one look at me and started babbling. Just got the dog last week, says he was cheated, that the dog’s sick, and bad-tempered, no fun at all.”
“Feeding the poor thing properly might have been a good start.” With Tonica back, she felt confident enough to reach into her pocket and pull out a dog treat. Georgie perked up, but the way the shepherd’s eyes fastened on her hand decided it for her. She put the treat on the ground and pushed it forward to where she thought the dog might be able to reach. It didn’t growl, didn’t lunge, but watched her hand carefully. When she pulled back, it shifted forward, and took the treat up so fast she wasn’t sure she’d even seen him move.
“Sorry, guy,” she said, after repeating it with a second treat. “That’s all I got. So, we overreacted?”
“Maybe a little. Understandably. But what’s interesting,” Tonica went on, “is where he said he got the dog.”
“Oh?” She looked up over her shoulder at him, having to shade her eyes against the sunlight to do so.
“From a guy he met down at Sammy’s Gym.”
11
The front of the gym didn’t look any more impressive than it did the last time.
“I think I’m overdressed,” Ginny said, looking down at her outfit, black pants matched with a button-down blue blouse, and her usual two-inch heels.
Teddy gave her a once-over, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Pretend you’re checking the place out for a client.”
“Huh.” She clearly hadn’t thought of that, but he could see the immediate change in her. Shoulders back, head tilted slightly to the left, her mouth pursed just a bit, as though she’d eaten something and wasn’t quite sure what it tasted like yet. He imagined that this was the perfect picture of a private concierge, set to do a job, and do it well. Then again, she was the only private concierge he knew, so…
Then the façade cracked, and she looked worried again. “Nobody’s going to take a swing at us, are they?”
“Probably not?”
“I don’t feel comforted, if that’s what you were going for.”
“I wasn’t.” Teddy grinned at her, and she huffed at him in response, turning to let Georgie out of the back of the car.
“A pity we didn’t bring Parsifal with us,” she said. “If someone recognized him, they might give something away.”
“I doubt the people we’re looking for are able to tell one puppy from another. Not unless it’s proven itself in the ring. I’m pretty sure the only thing Parsifal could take on was a throw pillow, and even then I’m not sure he would win.”
“Ouch. Poor Parsifal, he gets no respect at all.”
“I respect his ability to take down people with the cute,” Teddy said. “Speaking of respect, though, Georgie probably shouldn’t come in with us.” His gaze flickered over the dog, then back to the gym. “The clientele here probably won’t remember me from my earlier visit, but they’ll sure as hell remember her. She made quite the impression on people.”
“I’m not going to leave her tied up outside in this neighborhood!” Ginny gave him a glare, daring him to argue. Considering the reason they were here, he really couldn’t. It would be uncomfortably like staking a deer out in front of a lion pride, if what they suspected was true.
“All right, she can stay in the car.” They were parked in the shade, and it was a cool enough morning that she should be all right for a little while. “Will that be okay, if we leave the windows down? Or will she get out and try to follow us?”
“Georgie, stay,” Ginny commanded, and the shar-pei whined a little, but went back into the car. Ginny pulled something out of her bag and unfolded it into a bowl, then filled it with water from her water bottle. “Here you go, baby,” she said. “We won’t be long, promise.”
The dog didn’t look happy, but settled down.
&n
bsp; “You sure you don’t want to give her a little brother?”
“Tonica, puppies chew, and terriers chew more than most. Even as it is now I’m probably going to go home and discover my apartment’s been turned into a war zone. So, no. I really don’t want another dog.”
He lifted his hands in a sign of surrender, then gestured for her to go ahead of him.
The gym wasn’t as busy as it had been during his last visit, or maybe he was better prepared for the sounds of gloves hitting bags, the low, repeating grunts and slaps that bounced off the walls, and the low, rattling hum of an overstressed air-conditioning unit.
There was a young black kid at the front desk this time, and, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, he watched them walk across the floor.
“May I help you?” There was just enough sarcasm under the polite tone to amuse Teddy. Anyone who used “may” instead of “can” in a place like this, and implied that they were beyond help, was his kind of hire. He wondered if the kid was over twenty-one, and if he’d like to consider a change of employment.
A polite cough brought him back to focus, and he turned slightly to his left, indicating that Ginny was the person who would be talking.
“I was wondering if I might have a tour of the gym?” She reached into her bag and pulled out her business card case, handing one to the kid as though he were a suited CEO. “I am working for a client who is looking for a… particular sort of place to work out. He prefers one that knows how to keep its members off the radar—no flash, no publicity, just a good hard workout. You understand?”
“Ah. Yeah.” Kid was well-spoken, sarcastic, and quick on the uptake, even if what he was taking up was an utter lie. Teddy was totally going to try to steal him. Unless he was involved with whatever was going on, of course.
“If you’ll wait just a moment,” the kid was saying to Ginny, “I can arrange that.” He nodded toward the row of chairs against the far wall and put his hand on the phone on his desk, waiting for them to move away before he called the back office.
L.A. Kornetsky - Gin & Tonic 03 - Doghouse Page 16