The Dog Thief

by Marta Acosta

  “So what have you got yourself into now, Maddie?” She smiled as she gazed at Ben.

  “One sec.” He stood and pushed a chair close to me, piled cushions on it, and propped my legs up. As he tucked the blanket around my feet, he said, “I’m Ben Meadows, bringing Maddie’s strays here from the clinic. They’re in the rehab center.”

  “You’re the new vet?” My sister took a step forward. “I’m Kenzie Whitney.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, with a nod. “Maddie’s had a tough day. She came across a body on her walk. She can tell you the details.”

  “What exactly do you mean, a body? Did another sheep die?”

  “No, a person, probably a woman,” Ben said. “I don’t know if the sheriff has been able to make an ID yet.”

  Kenzie’s eyes went wide. “Jesus. And we came back here for the peace and quiet.”

  “I thought we came because we were broke and didn’t have any other options.”

  “Maddie’s joking,” my sister said.

  Ben looked to me, trying to catch my eye.

  I turned away and stared at the tea kettle-shaped clock, watching the second hand tick tick tick around. “Why does someone design an appliance to look like another appliance? Is it a meta statement that I’m missing, or is it just stupid?”

  Ben said, “Kenzie, I think she’s in a state of shock.”

  “No, she’s like this all the time.” My sister glared at me so briefly Ben didn’t see, and then she smiled. “I mean, the experience would upset anyone, but you shouldn’t worry.”

  “Maddie’s skin is clammy and her lips are pale. She has the chills and a rapid pulse. Keep her warm and keep her feet elevated. Let her rest and then try to get her out of those clothes and into a warm bath and bed.”

  While Kenzie’s expression didn’t change, she stood straighter. “I appreciate your concern, Ben, and, of course, I’ll take care of my sister. I always do.”

  “Good. Also, the female stray needs watching so she doesn’t chew at her incision,” he said. “Maddie has the pain meds. I better get going.”

  “Sure I can’t offer you a drink for your trouble?” Kenzie said.

  “Thanks, but dinner’s waiting.”

  That’s a good excuse, I thought. I collected good excuses.

  “Well, Ben, this hasn’t been much of a welcome to Coyote Run,” Kenzie said. “Thanks for your help. Come back sometime and we’ll give you the full tour of our ranch.”

  “I’d like that. And I want to see my plot of land.” He reached down to my hand and held his thumb on my wrist too lightly. I was about to jerk it away when he let go. “Your pulse is better, but take it easy, okay?”

  “I always try, but never achieve it.” I slumped into the chair and their voices drifted away as Kenzie walked Ben out.

  I shivered and called, “Heidi.” The Rottie came to me and rested her heavy head on my knees. I rubbed her back, closed my eyes, and was drifting to sleep when Kenzie stomped back in. One thing people never guessed about my beautiful pick-of-the-litter little sister: she had always been a stomper.

  Chapter 4

  “TRUST YOU TO FIND A dead body,” Kenzie said. “You didn’t mind him touching you?”

  “He asked first and he had a reassuring grip.”

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “Yes, repeatedly in in detail.”

  When I took a break to begin the story again, she said, “You do realize that if you had grit your teeth and dealt with Beryl, this wouldn’t have happened?”

  “If I had a time machine and I could go back with what I know now...” I held up my hand and flipped it back and forth, saying, “Beryl, dead body, Beryl, dead body. It would still be a toss-up and the person would be dead regardless.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Maddie, and you know it.” My sister took my hand and tugged me up and to the bathroom. She moved with the efficiency of a nurse to strip me, scrub me with a washcloth, and then dress me in a t-shirt and soft cotton pants. She watched as I brushed my teeth, trying to remove all the corpse molecules from my mouth, and she pulled my hand away when my gums started bleeding red into the white foam.

  She followed me to my room, and I waited while she turned on the bedside light and propped up the pillows the way I liked. Dark bookshelves covered two walls, making the room smaller and cozier, and I had one of Claire’s paintings over my bed and my big flat-screen over a low dresser.

  I crawled into bed and Kenzie tucked the duvet tight. Picking up the TV remote, she said, “What do you want?”

  “‘José Chung is from Outer Space.’”

  “Which one is it?”

  “The X-Files, season three, episode twenty. It’s the one told from multiple perspectives, and I think it’s the funniest one. Maybe not, but it’s definitely in the top five. The nineties shoulder pads on their clothes are huge.”

  The opening scenes relaxed me, and by the time Kenzie brought me a bowl of Campbell’s tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich sliced into quarters on the diagonal, I was laughing.

  She sat on the bed beside me, her leg pressed against mine, and I said, “I wish we could do this more often, baby girl.”

  “Are you feeling better?”

  I nodded and put the episode on pause. “Now that I’m home and you’re here.”

  “I’m glad Ben was here to help out. He thought you were in a state of shock.”

  “Technically, I think I am, which is a sorry comment on my usual condition,” I said, and we both laughed. “Beryl was complaining about him because he doesn’t make house calls like Dr. Pete did.”

  “Dr. Pete only showed up for Beryl, not the animals. He likes lively pretty women and good wine. She would have offered you a few glasses if you’d stuck around.”

  “Her hair is garnet-red now. You like a lot of people.”

  “Because most people are likeable, including Beryl.”

  “She moves like a clothes moth—fluttery and erratic.”

  “That is not a good reason to dislike someone, but you didn’t dislike Ben.”

  “I regret to admit he might be an improvement on Doc Pete as far as clinical skills go. I wonder how much Doc Pete cheated him on the Stud Lot.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be disappointed. Did he say anything personal?”

  “He’s new to living in the country, nothing else. Some people smell terrible when they’re a little sweaty, but he smelled good. I’m sure I stunk because of the sweat from my apocrine glands, but a veterinarian understands physical reactions to fear. It’s not like androstenone in men, which thirty-percent of the population can’t smell. Some people who can smell it don’t like it, but I do. It would be interesting for us to get tested and see if we can both detect androstenone, if neither of us can, or if only one of us can. I suspect I can, because I like the way men smell when they’ve done hard work, and that you can’t, because you don’t take notice of sweaty men. What do you think?”

  “I think most sisters go a lifetime without talking about the chemistry of human sweat.”

  “I’m glad you like science, too.” Then my attention was drawn to the TV, where a shiny black car was frozen on the screen. “Ben knew where we lived. He said he wanted to meet the ‘pet psychic.’ He didn’t actually believe I was a pet psychic, which is a point in his favor. I wish to hell people would stop calling me that.”

  “Treat it as a compliment to your abilities. I’m glad you made a new friend today.”

  I smiled at my sister. She was so good. “I try, Kenzie. I try for you.”

  The phone rang from down the hall and Kenzie said, “Doesn’t anyone respect business hours anymore?” She left the room and returned a few minutes later. “It was a reporter wanting a comment from you. I told her you were unavailable, but don’t pick up the line tonight. I’ll deal with calls.”

  “I try never to answer your phones.”

  “Except when you get so annoyed you want to yell at people.”

 
“It’s a stress reliever.”

  “Not to the callers. I’d better check on your new dogs.” Kenzie picked up the tray with my plate and bowl. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Ghost’s meds are in my office, and, and...I’m really tired.”

  “Go to sleep, Maddie.”

  I pulled the duvet up, but the sheet was uneven, so I had to get out of bed to straighten it and fold it so it fit the right way under my chin. Then I had to adjust my clothes so they weren’t twisted and rearrange the duvet all over again. I closed my eyes, and my thoughts jumbled uneasily over the events of the day.

  Claire would definitely want to see me when she learned what had happened. Probably. Possibly. What would Oliver tell her? My thoughts swirled dark as obsidian and white as bone and thick as clotted blood when I heard Kenzie’s steps down the hall in syncopation with Bertie’s familiar pace, the clicking of his nails on the hardwood floor, and the jangle of his tags. The door opened enough to let him in, and Kenzie whispered, “Night, Maddie.”

  “Night, sweetie.”

  She shut the door and Bertie leapt onto the bed, his heft tugging the duvet snug against me. I slipped my hand from under the duvet and rested it on his head, feeling my tension and fear dissolve. When my dog was here, companion and guard, I wasn’t alone in the dark, in the world.

  Chapter 5

  OUR ROOSTER CROWED well before sunrise, too early for me, but I sat up and stood gingerly, testing my weight on my still raw blisters. I dressed and pulled on thick wool socks and my winter muck boots. Bertie and Heidi ran ahead as I went to the center. I looked in on the new dogs in their private room before opening all the kennels, shouting, “Release the hounds!” while the dogs dashed out into the yard.

  My assistant, Jaison Bouvier, walked here from his rental down the road. He yawned and stretched, making his shirt ride up his skinny dark brown belly. As he strolled through the gate, the first rays of daylight shone on his shaved scalp.

  “Hey, Jai. What happened to your hair?”

  “It was too hot for hair yesterday. You’re sunburned. Wear sunscreen.” He spoke slowly, like he had all the time in the world, and I caught a touch of the South in his voice. He only said he’d “moved around some” when I’d first interviewed him. I appreciated that he never offered or asked much in the way of personal history.

  “Lotion makes my skin feel slimy. Do you mind doing the morning run?” I said. “Those damn new boots trashed my feet.”

  “Women and their shoes. Yeah, I’ll do the run since you delicate like a flower.”

  “And you sassy like, I don’t know. Finish the sentence for me.”

  “Sassy like a black secretary in a white sitcom.” He smiled, but his espresso-brown eyes watched me carefully. “Hey, I heard about what happened last night from Kenzie and then it was in the news, too. All they said was ‘unidentified female victim’ and that no one was missing from town. You okay?”

  “Not really.” I let out a long breath and glanced around. “This isn’t the usual wasted-on-payday and somehow stabbed my best buddy or shot my wife situation. Do you know how she died? Do the Carozzos know anything? ”

  He shrugged. “Their lawyer said they don’t know who she could be or why she was there.”

  “Do they know if she was killed on the property, or taken there?”

  “It’s early days, Maddie. If she was dumped, I can give you a dozen better places to hide a body without even thinking about it. Or maybe she was cutting through the place with whoever whacked her. Some people don’t give a damn about no trespassing signs.”

  “If you mean me, Phin and Tessa know I cut through. I tried not to disturb the scene. Did the news say my name?”

  “Might as well have. They said a ‘local animal psychic” discovered the body. It would be good for business if folks think a vision led you to the scene.”

  “Nothing could persuade me to wade into the fake dog psychic swamp.”

  “Pity, because I could be your mind-reading assistant. I’d look badass in a gold turban.”

  I smiled. “Stop tempting me with possibilities. What do you think of our latest residents?”

  “She’s a pretty little bitch. Cute ankle biters.”

  “Her name is Ghost, terrible name. Do you want a pup?”

  “Too fluffy for me. The only dog I’d like to own is Heidi and she’s taken. I’m thinking about getting a herding dog like a Blue Heeler. Something spry and sharp. You could get sheep and train dogs for field trials.”

  “If you want sheep, you’ll have to buy your own. Kenzie’s still broken up about the ones we lost.”

  “What did she expect having a pyro kid here?”

  “She expected what she always expects: the best from people.”

  “Gotta love her. Do you think she’s ever going to give those sessions again?”

  “I don’t know. She was almost at the break-even point and then there was the fire, so...” I thought about Kenzie sobbing in her room, her face contorted in sorrow and frustration. “If you need me, I’ll be working with Ghost.”

  As I walked to the kennels, Jai said what he always did: “I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go,” and I swung my hips for him.

  I took Ghost to the big room at the end of the trailer and ran her through exercises to see how she reacted to sudden movements and sounds. She wasn’t jumpy so I decided test her social skills because putting her with the other dogs would be the best therapy for her. When I brought Heidi into the room, Ghost whale-eyed, showing the white rims of her eyes, and the big Rottie growled. I would have liked to take them out together and get their brains moving ahead, but the pups were in the way, and I was too sore to take on the task.

  I sent Heidi out again, saying, “I expected problems with her, but you should know better by now.”

  Then I went into my office, a small room I’d painted creamy white. Wire baskets with files and supplies hung on pegboard. There were a six extra-fine black Sharpie pens and six Ticonderoga #2 pencils in Mason jars atop the narrow gray Steelcase desk facing the door. A wooden tray held my modest collection of vintage celluloid and hard rubber fountain pens and bottles of ink.

  A green Swingline stapler and sharpener were aligned at the right corner and a Gaskell’s Feed Store calendar was tacked on the wall beside my framed training and CPR certificates. I thought about the murderer knowing who I was, thinking about me, thinking about how I’d come upon his victim, thinking about what he’d done and what I’d seen.

  Outside, the dogs’ paws pounded on the hard ground as they raced around the trailer, circling and guarding me.

  Kenzie had left a stack of papers and notes for her business, and my low level of anxiety increased as I went through the numbers. We had no income from the horse therapy, but we still had bills. I hadn’t expected the jump in alfalfa prices, and regular meds had skyrocketed. Two of Kenzie’s clients continued to ignore year-old invoices. I wanted to threaten them with bill collectors, but I’d have to clear it with Kenzie first.

  I set an alarm so I wouldn’t spend more than 30 minutes searching Claire’s latest online activity. For an artist, she was adept at hiding her personal pages; she must have learned something from my rants about privacy. I glanced at her professional site with her newest art projects, and then I found her in group photos at a party with women who used to be my friends, too. Or I’d thought they were. I said, “Claire,” out loud and studied her face as she looked straight at whoever was taking the photo.

  I checked her brother’s boring official and personal pages, full of safety tips and far too many photos of departmental baseball games. I lingered over her staff portrait at the Versailles Sandwich Bistro. The alarm buzzed, so I saved photos to examine later.

  Now, I set the alarm for 10 minutes and searched information about Ben. The clinic’s homepage announced “Under construction, more coming soon!” and had basic contact information. The clinic’s new social accounts, too, had the same message. Ben had pr
eviously worked for a chain with a large staff, and he had nice reviews.

  I wrote progress reports for the rehabilitation dogs and updates for boarding clients before tackling the accounting. Two hours later, I had prioritized bills and paid off the most urgent. I was trying to figure out anything we could trim or eliminate from our monthly budget when Kenzie came in the office.

  “How’s everything look?” She plopped onto a plastic armchair by the door.

  I opened the deep file drawer of my desk and pushed it shut again, listening as it glided on the rails and then clicked closed. “We are one crisis away from going belly up, Kenz. Those damn trailers have been empty for how long now? It’s money wasting away while we watch. We need to sell them.”

  “I want to keep the option of running sessions again.”

  “When that time comes we can purchase modified cargo containers, which are almost indestructible and more space efficient.”

  “And incur new expenses because whatever we can get for the trailers won’t cover delivering and converting containers, insulating and heating them, and installing plumbing.”

  “We can use solar panels on the roofs and build berms to provide daytime shade. We can use other sustainable techniques to minimize heating and cooling costs. Tessa and Phineas are going to construct their new bunkhouse from six forty-feet cargo containers.”

  “The Carozzos can afford upgrades. Will you please stop playing with the damn drawer?”

  I pushed the drawer shut one last time and folded my hands on my lap. “Why are we revisiting this topic if you won’t even consider cargo containers?” I tried to focus on her face, but my eyes kept drifting toward the drawer.

  “I was going to bring this up later, but since we’re talking about finances, I want you to hear me out on something. What if we divide the property? We can keep the house, your center, the barn and trailers, and I only need is three or four acres. We can establish a buffer zone and sell the fracking rights for the rest. You don’t have to answer right away.”