Crooked as a Dog's Hind Leg
Page 18
"You heard Doreen—she never comes out here. And Brian would have owned up to it if he had. Somebody must have taken Wolf." He could tell Andy wasn't convinced, because he added, "I called the pound as soon as I found him gone, but they haven't picked up any German shepherds all week. Then I called Dr. Josie, but she didn't know anything about him either. If he'd gotten loose, he'd have ended up at one place or the other."
"Those would be the two places I'd call," Andy said. In fact, he'd have called Dr. Josie first. A lot of people wouldn't take a dog to the pound for fear they'd put it to sleep, but everybody knew Josie Gilpin didn't do that unless it was absolutely necessary. The veterinarian thought dogs and cats had as much right to live as human beings, maybe more so.
Right about then, Andy saw movement a couple of backyards away, behind the late Missy Terhune's house. Mark Pope was walking around, examining the ground as though there were something there to find. He looked over, saw Andy, and gave a mock salute. Andy had such a hard time resisting the kind of salute he wanted to return that all he could manage was a nod.
Payson saw Mark, too. "Wolf must have been gone by Thursday night, or he'd have let folks know there was a stranger nosing around, and Missy might still be alive."
"It doesn't look like it was a stranger," Andy said. "More like Miz Terhune let somebody inside the house and turned her back for a minute. Then whoever it was bludgeoned her with a cast–iron door stop." Andy didn't mind telling Payson this because it was common knowledge already. Besides, Payson was a long–haul trucker who never hit town until late Friday night, so he wasn't a suspect.
"Didn't anybody see him going into the house?"
"Afraid not. I guess she had company coming by at all hours of the day and night, and folks didn't pay much attention." Since her own husband left her, Missy had been cutting quite a swath through the men of Byerly, married and single. It wasn't too hard to imagine that one of them hadn't appreciated sharing and made sure that it wouldn't happen again.
"She was a handsome woman," Payson said, sounding almost regretful. "Of course, it's a shame for that to happen to anybody. And I sure don't like a killing this close to Doreen. If you can't find Wolf, I'm going to have to ask Dr. Josie to help me find a new watchdog."
In most cases, Andy would have told him not to give up so quickly, but he wasn't feeling real hopeful. Still, he owed it to Payson to do the best he could. He turned his back on Mark Pope and said, "Tell you what. I'll see what I can find out and get back to you." He left Payson staring at the empty pen.
Andy had gotten used to having a radio in his squad car to get in touch with people, so a few months after retirement, he'd broken down and gotten a cell phone. He climbed into his car, turned on the air conditioner full blast, and reached for the phone. There were a couple of calls he needed to make that he didn't want Payson to hear.
The thing was, Andy just couldn't see why anybody would have stolen that dog. According to Payson, Wolf was ten years old, and ten–year–old dogs aren't big resale items. While Andy had heard of dognapping rings that sold stolen dogs to laboratories, he'd never known such a ring to operate in Byerly and didn't think a professional would have risked grabbing a barking dog from a pen right next to a house.
What he thought was that somebody had opened the pen, if not Doreen or Brian, then a neighborhood kid. Either way, chances were that the dog had ended up on the road, which meant that he'd most likely been hit by a car.
So Andy called the public works people to find out if they'd picked up any dead dogs. They had disposed of three that week, but no German shepherds. Next he called the dump, but none of the garbage men had brought in a dead dog, either.
Andy still thought Wolf was dead—there were plenty of places a dog's body could be without anybody noticing for a while—but he hated to tell Payson that. Besides, Mark Pope picked that minute to come out of Missy Terhune's house and amble over to Andy's car. Andy reluctantly rolled down his window, and Mark leaned over, looking for all the world as if he was giving Andy a ticket.
"How's the investigation going?" Mark said with a shit–eating grin.
"Pretty routine," Andy said as evenly as he could. "You making any headway in your case?"
Mark shrugged nonchalantly. "Got a few ideas, waiting for some tests to come in. A murder's a lot more complicated than a lost dog, you know."
Andy thought about reminding him how many murders he'd solved, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. "I guess you're right."
Mark seemed disappointed, but kept grinning as he said, "Let me know if you have any problems."
"You bet," was what Andy said, but he was thinking something different as Mark headed for the squad car and screeched away as if he had someplace important to go.
Andy wasn't about to give up after that, so he decided to take the so–called investigation to the next step: questioning possible witnesses. In other words, he talked to Payson's neighbors.
Old Miz Farley, whose house was to the left of Payson's, spent five minutes telling Andy what he should be doing about Missy Terhune's murder before he could explain that he wasn't working on that case. Then he had to listen to ten minutes of complaints about Wolf's barking. According to Miz Farley, she couldn't go outside to water her rosebushes without Wolf barking loud enough to wake the dead. Unfortunately, Miz Farley couldn't remember the last time she'd heard that barking, and she hadn't seen anybody messing with the dog.
Miz Farley hadn't seen anybody near Missy Terhune's house the night she was killed, either, but that didn't stop her from declaring that it wouldn't have happened if more of Terhune's friends had stayed at home with their wives. Andy couldn't resist asking for details, but Miz Farley insisted that she wasn't one to gossip. He probably could have wheedled more out of her, but instead he reminded himself that it wasn't his case and went to the next house on the street.
Miz Cranford wanted to talk on the porch because her husband Roy was on the night shift at the mill and was asleep inside. She hadn't noticed that Wolf was gone, but now that Andy mentioned it, it had been quiet the last half of the week. Since she worked days at the mill and was home alone at night, sometimes Wolf's barking made her nervous, and it kept Roy up during the day.
Miz Cranford also said she didn't blame the dog for running off because the way Doreen neglected him was a disgrace. She'd started filling his water bowl herself when she watered her lawn. In her opinion, people like that shouldn't have dogs in the first place.
Her indignation made Andy wonder if she'd taken Wolf, but he couldn't figure out how she could be hiding him in her house. Noisy watchdogs didn't turn quiet overnight, not even when given enough water.
The Cranford house was the last on the block, so Andy backtracked to the Titus house on the other side of Payson's, but Mr. Titus couldn't tell him anything. He was so deaf he'd never even noticed Wolf barking. The next house was Missy Terhune's, and the one after that was vacant and for sale.
The vacant place was the last on that side of the street, and though he wasn't sure if he was being thorough or foolish, Andy crossed the street to talk to the people over there. He didn't hear anything other than more complaints about Wolf barking too much and gossip about Missy Terhune's sunbathing in a bikini in her front yard, and he got the distinct impression that nobody was going to miss either of them.
Fortunately, there weren't any houses behind Payson's house, just a patch of woods that blocked the houses from Johnson Road, or Andy would probably have felt obligated to question the folks back there, too. Instead he retreated to his car to try to think of anything he might have missed.
What about the ex–wife? Payson had said they fought over custody of Wolf. Andy couldn't remember her name, so he used the cell phone to call his wife, who always knew such things. It turned out that the ex–wife was on her honeymoon with her new husband, which was why Brian was staying with Payson and Doreen, and Andy couldn't imagine even a devoted dog lover cutting short a trip to Branson to steal Wolf.
He thought about walking through the woods behind Payson's house to see if Wolf had found his way in there and died, and if it hadn't been so hot, he might have done it. Instead, he looked at the sky above the woods. There weren't any birds circling, meaning that there probably wasn't any carrion as big as a dog out there, and if Wolf were still alive, somebody would have heard him barking. So Andy just couldn't make himself go traipsing through the woods when all it was likely to get him was a bunch of ticks.
That dog had to be dead on the side of the road somewhere, or at best, injured and nearly dead. Either way, it would be right foolish to drive around looking, so there was no reason for Andy to start driving other than the fact that he didn't want Mark Pope to come back by and find him sitting in his car as if he didn't know what he was doing.
An hour later, he'd driven down every road in Byerly, even those so far away that no ten–year–old dog could have gotten there, especially not with the heat and the condition Wolf must have been in. Andy knew he ought to give up and admit to Mark that he couldn't even find a lost dog anymore. Maybe what they said about old dogs not learning new tricks was true; he and Wolf probably had a lot in common.
As tempted as he was to confess over the phone, he knew Mark would crow that much more if Andy avoided talking to him in person. He pulled into the first driveway he came to, meaning to turn around and head back to the police station, but the driveway turned out to be the one that led to Dr. Josie's place. He decided it couldn't hurt to stop by and ask if anybody had brought Wolf by since Payson called. His wife would have said he was only delaying the inevitable, which he was, but he was thirsty, and maybe Dr. Josie would give him something to drink.
Dr. Josie only saw patients in the morning on Saturdays, so Andy knew the office would already be closed, but since she lived as well as worked at the old farmhouse, he figured she'd be around. When she came outside when he stopped the car, he figured she must have seen him drive up. Or maybe her dogs had let her know he was there—even with the door closed, he could hear all manner of barks and yelps.
"Hey," she said as he got out of the car.
"Hey there. How're you doing?"
Normally he'd have expected a lengthy answer. Dr. Josie wasn't the most talkative person in Byerly, but she was a Southerner. This time her only answer was, "Fine." While Andy tried to think of what he'd done to offend her, she said, "What can I do for you?"
"I've got some questions about Payson Smith's dog Wolf, if you've got a minute."
Her mouth got tight and she crossed her hands over her chest. "If you think I'm giving that dog back, you've got another think coming, and you're not getting into my house without a court order."
Andy worked hard not to show how taken aback he was. Of course, it did make sense, now that she'd confessed. There wasn't a dog in Byerly that wouldn't come running if Dr. Josie snapped her fingers. "Why'd you do it?" he asked, trying to make it sound like he'd known all along that she was involved.
"If you could have seen that dog, you wouldn't even ask. Skinny as a rail, dehydrated—he'd have been dead by now if I hadn't taken him."
"I don't suppose you had any problem getting him."
"Not a bit. Parked my pickup on Johnson Road and went through the woods to get to Payson's yard." Obviously she didn't share Andy's dislike of ticks, but then again, she couldn't afford to in her line of work. "Poor fellow couldn't hardly walk—he did his best to follow me when I called him, but I had to carry him most of the way to the truck. No creature on earth deserves to be treated like that."
Andy thought for a while. As police chief, could be he'd have felt differently, but as Mark Pope had taken such pains to demonstrate, he wasn't police chief anymore. And even if Payson was fond of the dog, it wasn't fair to Wolf to make him go back to that pen with its empty water bowl.
Dr. Josie was getting nervous. "What are you going to do?"
"Nothing, but this is what you're going to do. You're going to call Payson and tell him somebody from out of town hit Wolf with a car this afternoon and brought him here. You did your best, but couldn't save him. Then tell him you buried Wolf already, and you might better put up a marker in case he wants to come see."
"That could work," she said slowly.
"Of course, you're going to have to make sure Payson never sees Wolf again, but unless he gets another dog, he won't have any reason to come out here."
"He better not get another dog," she said ominously.
"Tell him that, too, how bad off the dog was, how maybe he'd have lived if he'd been in better condition. Then suggest that he get a burglar alarm."
She smiled. "Andy, you're my kind of cop. Hey, wait a minute! You're not a cop anymore."
"Nope, I'm retired. Just like Wolf."
She finally invited him in for a Coca–Cola and let him see Wolf. The old dog did look pretty rough, but Dr. Josie thought he'd live another year or two.
It wasn't until Andy was fixing to leave that he thought of something else. "How did you find out about Wolf being without water anyway?"
"A little bird told me."
He just looked at her.
"I mean it. I got an anonymous phone call. Whoever it was must have been talking though a handkerchief, because it sounded funny, but he said Wolf was being neglected. I didn't know if it was a trick or not, but as soon as I saw the old fellow, I knew I had to bring him home with me."
"You don't know who it was?"
She shook her head.
"Would you tell me if you did?"
She smiled again, so Andy just patted Wolf and headed for his car.
The former police chief was feeling mighty pleased with himself. Mark might make a few noises about tracking down whoever it was who'd supposedly hit Wolf, but nothing would come of that. Then he'd make fun because it was only a dog that got hit by a car, but the fact was that Andy had solved his case, when Andy would bet money that Mark wasn't a bit closer to finding Missy Terhune's murderer than he had been that morning.
Imagining how he'd have handled the murder reminded Andy of what Payson had said about it being a shame Wolf hadn't been around the night it happened. Dr. Josie took the dog on Wednesday night, and Terhune was killed on Thursday night. Like Andy told Payson, she must have known her killer because there was no sign of a break–in, and everybody had been assuming that the killer had come to the front door like so many men had. But what if the killer had come to the back door?
Somebody could have parked on Johnson Road just like Dr. Josie had, snuck through the woods, and shown up at Terhune's door without anybody in the neighborhood being the wiser. Of course, Wolf would have barked if he'd still been there, but only a neighbor would have known that.
Then Andy thought about how he could see Terhune's backyard while standing in Payson's. In fact, he could see all the yards down the block; nobody had fences or hedges, and it was hard to tell when one yard ended and the next began. As hot as it had been all week, even at night, nobody had been spending much time outside their air-conditioned houses, so somebody could have walked from one end of the block to the other without ever coming out onto the street and without anybody noticing. Unless, that is, Wolf barked. But Wolf was already gone the night Terhune was killed because somebody had called Dr. Josie. And that somebody was almost certainly a neighbor, because they were the ones who'd have seen how Wolf was suffering.
That's when Andy headed for Butler Street. He was still deputized, so he had a legal right to do what he had in mind. Of course, he didn't have a gun or handcuffs, but he'd rarely used them before retirement, and he thought he could handle one more arrest without them.
Fortunately, she was alone when he rang the bell, and it didn't take much to convince her that she'd be better off if she came willingly. He'd been planning to take her to the police station, but when they came out the door, Mark Pope was standing in front of the Terhune house, talking to Hank Parker, the Byerly Gazette's only full time reporter, and damned if Mark didn't flash that shit–eating grin again when he saw Andy. That's when Andy changed his mind. He escorted Miz Cranford over there and announced that he'd just arrested her for Missy Terhune's murder. Mark was too flabbergasted to speak, but Hank had plenty of questions.
Andy explained how Miz Cranford had found out her husband hadn't spent all day resting for the night shift. Instead, he'd been calling on Missy Terhune. Like many women in her situation, Miz Crawford had blamed the other woman instead of the husband and decided to get rid of her. Getting to Terhune's house without being seen was easy. All she had to do was walk through the backyards. The only problem was Wolf's barking.
Miz Cranford considered poisoning the dog's water, but decided Wolf didn't deserve that, so she called Dr. Josie, knowing she'd rescue him. Like the vet, Miz Cranford was more soft–hearted with dogs than she was with people, because she didn't hesitate for a second when it came to killing Missy Terhune.
Once Andy had realized that Wolf's disappearing the night before the murder was no coincidence, it was easy to figure out that Miz Cranford was the murderer. It had to be a neighbor, because only a neighbor would have known about Wolf's barking, and only the people on the same side of the block as Payson would have been worried about rousing Wolf. That limited the suspects.
There was Mr. Titus, who was deaf and didn't even know Wolf barked, and Miz Farley, but Andy couldn't imagine what motive she could have had. Then there were the Cranfords. Roy Cranford worked at night, so he couldn't have done it, but with him gone and Wolf out of the way, the coast was clear for Miz Cranford.
Mark finally started talking then, trying to make it sound like he'd known all along that the missing dog and the murder were connected, and that Andy had only been following his orders. When he insisted on carrying Miz Cranford to the station in the squad car, lights flashing and siren blaring, Andy knew Mark was going to write up the arrest as his own.
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