Play Dead

by Jane B. Mason

  “Uh oh,” Hayley whispered, cluing in on what I was seeing.

  I felt frozen. All I could do was watch.

  Alicia smiled at the girls around her, unaware that they were buzzards in disguise, there to pick the meat from her bones. She held out a hand, inviting them to sit down. Alicia thought she was making friends. But Summer was playing with her and I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I started toward the table.

  Crossing the cafeteria was dangerous on a good day. On a bad day, it could be fatal. I dodged a yogurt spill. I stepped over a homework clutch. I was getting closer.

  Soon I could hear what Summer was saying. “That’s soo interesting!” she cooed condescendingly.

  Alicia nodded happily at her. Then she opened her thermal eco-pak lunch container and sealed her fate. Steam rose from her lunch, releasing the aromas of cumin, coriander, curry…. “Mmm,” Hayley said. She was right behind me, and we were both stuck behind a gossiping group of sixth graders.

  Alicia’s lunch smelled delicious, but the exotic scent was way different than any “acceptable” lunchroom fare. It was precisely the chink in the new girl’s armor that Summer needed.

  Summer plugged up her nose, leading her friends to follow suit. “Ugh! What is that, BO stew?” She turned away and fanned her face. “Did you kill the goat yourself? Put a lid on that stuff before I get sick! Or maybe you already did.” Her voice carried over the entire cafeteria, followed by a wave of laughter from her friends. Alicia’s face turned red, and she cringed away from Summer’s attack. My face was red, too, only I wasn’t embarrassed. I was mad.

  I ground my teeth together and pushed through the giggling sixth graders before Haley could stop me. I timed my stumble perfectly. With a hop and a side step I lurched, tipped my lunch, and let my cup of dark-brown chocolate pudding “slip” off my tray and land with a plop, right in Summer’s golden hair.

  Everything moved in slow motion. I watched the brown glob of pudding slide down Summer’s hair. I saw her expression shift from smirk to uncertainty to horror. I felt my smile threaten to split my face in two as a pudding globule dripped into Summer’s eye. I heard Hayley start to laugh behind me. Every eye in the cafeteria was focused on Summer. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

  But then my twenty slow seconds of bliss ended and life lurched back to full speed. The lunch aide, Ms. Croswell, swooped in. As a member of the faculty, she automatically assumed the person screaming was the one who had been wronged.

  Clucking words of sympathy, Ms. Croswell led Summer away.

  I tried to disappear into the crowd, hoping I had gotten away with it. But Summer would never allow that. As Croswell led her out, she pointed right at me. “Cassie Sullivan did this! On purpose!” she screeched.

  Croswell turned, skewering me with her eyes. “To the principal’s office, Sullivan,” she barked. “Immediately!”

  “Miss Sullivan.” Principal Bettendorf gave me an angry look and I tried not to flinch. I knew from experience that he liked kids with backbone, which I had. And appropriate behavior, which I apparently did not. At least not all of the time.

  “Pudding in the hair?” He narrowed his eyes and raised his graying eyebrows so they hovered higher than the rims of his glasses. I had to look away. Bettendorf was no dummy and he’d gotten to know me pretty well. This wasn’t my first trip to his office — and probably not my last, either.

  He let the silence grow uncomfortably long before asking a second question. “Are you still harboring resentment about the dog-on-campus issue, Cassandra?”

  Oof. Cassandra. And of course I was harboring resentment! Summer had ruined a lot of things for me over the years, but getting Dodge banned from campus was the worst.

  It had been shortly after we’d adopted Dodge. We were all a mess, especially Dodge. When Mom first brought him home, he woke up whimpering every night. I slept next to him in my sleeping bag and snuggled close whenever he started to cry. Mom said that was why we bonded like superglue.

  I didn’t tell my parents that Dodge was following me to school, that he would tail the bus and wait outside the school doors. After everything he’d been through, I was happy that he seemed comfortable around people again.

  At first none of the school staff, including Bettendorf, objected to having Dodge on campus. Maybe it was because they knew he had police training. Maybe they just liked him. Whatever the reason, everyone overlooked the district rule banning dogs from campus.

  Everyone except Summer. She tattled to her mother, who happened to be on the school board and obsessed with rules and regulations. Mrs. Hill forced the issue at the very next board meeting and got Dodge barred from school.

  So Summer had basically put my dog in daily lockup.

  “Maybe I’m a little resentful,” I admitted, meeting Mr. Bettendorf’s steady gaze. The principal looked satisfied as he nodded across the desk. “But that’s not what this is about,” I said before he got too gloaty. “Summer was picking on the new girl. She was teasing her in front of everyone.”

  Bettendorf’s eyebrows arched again, and I knew he understood what I was talking about, so I went on. “She’s just … mean.” I swear I saw Bettendorf’s smile muscles twitch when I said that. It was just a tiny movement though, and in a second his discipline mask was back.

  “I will speak to Miss Hill about how to be more welcoming,” he said. “But it is not up to you to punish other students. Your actions warrant consequences.”

  I could see it coming. I suppose I should have seen it coming before I dropped the pudding bomb, but Summer had weird effects on me. I was about to get detention, probably a week of it. And once my parents found out, there would be grounding, probably two weeks of it.

  I clenched my fists between my knees and stared at the floor. I was about to be put in daily lockup myself and lose my investigation time for the foreseeable future.

  Summer had won again.

  My toenails clicked on the kitchen floor. Click-click-click-click. Click-click-click-click. I was waiting and pacing. I always waited awhile after the family left. Waited before I went out. I didn’t want anyone besides Cassie to know I could get out. They might lock me in the laundry room. Or change to round doorknobs. Round needed thumbs.

  But I was ready to go out and sniff up some more clues. The creepy feeling I’d gotten at the Ward mansion was still with me. I had to find out what it was.

  I walked back. Click-click. And forth. Click-click. One more time. I was about to push the handle when I heard a creak. No, not a creak. A squeak. A meow. Oh, woof. The Cat.

  I heard the meow again. I turned and shot The Cat my mean dog look. It stopped burglars in their tracks. It had no effect on The Cat whatsoever. She just sat there on the counter. Licking some cheese.

  Cheese. I loved cheese. Cheese was my favorite.

  She was taunting me. I knew that. I am a smart dog. Naturally, I tried to ignore her. But cheese. And The Cat.

  I looked. And looked. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the horrible scene. And then I was on the counter. And the cheddar was all mine.

  Ha! I licked my lips while The Cat hissed and scrambled to get away. Victory! “Woof!” But as soon as she was gone, I felt bad. I was too big for the counter, and I’d knocked the butter dish to the floor. I hopped down, full of shame.

  I’d lost control. My ears and my tail drooped. I licked up the mess but didn’t enjoy it. I told myself it was The Cat’s fault. The Cat made me do it. But I knew it wasn’t true. I knew I was a bad dog. I was feeling so terrible I didn’t hear The Dad until he walked into the kitchen.

  What? None of my pack came home for lunch. It was lucky I was still here. If The Cat hadn’t taunted me I would have been gone. But I was home. My secret was safe. And I had The Cat to thank. Not that I would ever thank The Cat.

  I wagged at The Dad and tried not to look guilty. Skulking was a dead giveaway. He didn’t notice the butter dish, and the cheese was safe in my stomach. Besides, he was distracted.


  “Hey, Dodger. Forgot my wallet. Got halfway to work before I remembered.” The Dad scratched his head and raced around grabbing things. “Huh. Forgot this, too,” he said, picking up his lunch. “Didn’t even remember I forgot this. Yeesh. Where is my head?” he asked, looking at me. It appeared to be where it always was, on his shoulders. But what did I know? Then he was gone. And I was back to pacing. Click-click-click-click. I cocked my ear and waited for the car’s engine noise to fade. I waited some more. Then I jumped up and caught the handle with my paw. I dragged it down and hopped backward on my hind legs until it was open enough to slip through. It closed on its own. I’d lost a few tail hairs in the door before, but I was getting better. With a swish and a click, I was out. I hoped The Cat was watching.

  The sun hit my fur and air filled my nose. I jumped the back gate in an easy leap. I was free to do some serious sniffing! I trotted down the street and around the corner and found Gatsby in his yard. Perfect.

  I put my nose to the ground, casing the Gundersons’ fence until I smelled soft dirt. No clay. No rocks. I started to dig. One paw chased the other. Paw. Scrape. Paw. Scrape. Paw. Scrape. Faster and faster.

  I loved digging. Sand. Lawns. Fields. Digging let out all the smells trapped in the ground. And if you did it right, it could let out your friend.

  Gatsby squeezed under the fence through the tunnel I’d dug. He bayed his freedom, and I nudged him under the chin, telling him to be quiet. We were breaking out! We needed to be quiet. And fast.

  Gatsby could do quiet. Fast was harder. Gatsby had short legs, and he wasn’t young. It was going to take awhile to get to Ward’s. But who knew what The Nose would find when we got there?

  We sniffed our way into town, stopping to share a dropped sandwich. Mmmm. Peanut butter. Peanut butter was my favorite. We were sniffing the town square and upsetting the squirrels when I heard a familiar voice and smelled a familiar smell. Mayor Baudry.

  Mayor Baudry was not a big man. He just sounded big — all bark, like a miniature schnauzer. He smelled like onions and half-truth. He used to come to the police station a lot when I worked there. Once you smelled him, you never forgot.

  We stopped by a bench to listen. The mayor was talking to a woman I’d never seen before.

  “Yes, my fee-yawn-say.” She said it in the same way The Mom told The Cat not to claw the couch. Harsh. And she held her hand like it was wounded. Or she wanted the mayor to see it. She had something. A ring. It wasn’t the icy looking rings women often wore, though. It was a flat gold ring with a design.

  “Verdel and I were to be may-reed in the spring,” the woman said. Her voice was slow. Her hair was big. Verdel. The name she was saying was more exciting than the ring. It made my ears go up. I looked at the woman’s face. I looked at her shoes. They looked good for chewing, not for running.

  The Mayor snorted and stepped away from the woman. He probably wanted to get her perfume smell out of his nose.

  “He told me ev-ah-ree-thing he had was mine, so I don’t know whii we-ya fussing over a lack of will,” she crooned.

  “He told me that Bellport was the most important thing to him!” Baudry said. “And I have to ask myself why you didn’t you come sooner if you and Ward were so in love?”

  “Well, I …” The woman’s eyes grew big. I could tell she wanted to nip Baudry on the flank. She blinked a bunch of times. “I was too distrah-aht!” she whined. “Besides, that ah-ful housekeeper won’t let me into the house,” she finished in a quiet voice.

  I looked over at Gatsby to see if he’d heard that, but he had wandered off and was sniffing a trash can farther away. I whuffed, to call him back. Bad move. Gatsby didn’t look up, but Baudry did, and when he saw me he showed his teeth and started making noise. Lots of it.

  “Doesn’t anybody enforce the leash laws in this town? What is going on here?” he yelled, huffing and flapping his arms. “Where is Animal Control?” He looked around for somebody to come after me and Gatsby. I ducked my head and hightailed it. He’d probably recognized me, but there was no way he could catch me.

  Gatsby saw me rush past and ran with me. I heard Baudry still barking behind us, but nobody followed. We slowed to a trot, sniffing our way out of town. Up the road. Around a bunch of turns. Trees. Fire hydrants. I could smell the sea. Gatsby did, too. He was puffing in and out. His sniffer was on overdrive.

  Finally, we got to the Ward estate. I put my front paws on top of the rock wall and surveyed the grounds. I heard a faint buzzing — the perimeter alarm was on. I gave a little woof to let The Nose know, then helped him over the wall.

  I had to hand it to Gatsby. Even after our long journey he showed some hustle. I wanted to find the source of the disturbing scent. But the old basset headed straight for the beach. He sniffed up the shoreline with a vengeance, sorting the sea smells in the swirling wind. His tail flexed. His nose shivered. Then, all of a sudden, he slowed. He plodded at a snail’s pace.

  It had taken a long time to get here, and I was starting to worry. It was getting late. And it was a Pet Rescue day. I wanted to get home to Cassie. “Woof!” It was time to go. The stubborn hound ignored me.

  The Nose ambled forward, tail straight out. He stopped. He fixed on a small circle of paper. Special paper — the kind that doesn’t shred. Gatsby pressed his nose to it. He snuffed in and out. Then he barked for me to pick it up.

  I had no idea what it was. But The Nose knew. It was a clue. So I picked it up, tucking it into the side of my mouth.

  Gatsby was obviously satisfied with his find, because he started up the trail toward the mansion. And thank goodness. The sun had moved pretty far across the sky — it was getting later and later. I let the ocean smells swirl past my nostrils without sorting them. I headed for the rock wall.

  I was about to leap when I smelled her. Fried eggs and laundry soap. The housekeeper.

  Letting out a quiet bark, I steered The Nose around the other side of the house. It would take longer to get off the property, but we had a better chance of getting away without being seen. I froze when my nose was assaulted by the terrible smell I’d whiffed the other day — the one that made me want to bolt. Only now it was stronger. A lot stronger. My hair stood up. Gatsby stopped in his tracks, too. His nose quivered. I thought he might bail. But he didn’t. He sprinted straight toward a chain-link rectangle behind the mansion.

  I tried to keep my cool. The smell said “run!” but I followed instead. There was no house inside the fence. It looked like a dog prison.

  Before I could stop him, Gatsby sat down and let out a mournful howl. “Bauuuu!” Believe me, I wanted to chime right in. Howling was in order. But the housekeeper. I nosed The Nose, telling him to be quiet. He howled louder.

  That’s when the housekeeper appeared. She looked grouchier than ever — all yells and waves. I gave a sharp warning bark to get Gatsby moving, then took off toward the wall.

  Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump, and I was over. I landed on the other side and waited for Gatsby to appear.

  But he didn’t appear. He yelped.

  It didn’t take a detective to know that the housekeeper had him.

  I hurled myself back over the wall. I curled my lips into a snarl. I charged.

  The housekeeper’s eyes got huge. She let go of Gatsby’s collar and ran. Her slow shuffle was nowhere to be seen.

  Gatsby wasted no time, either. He ran for the wall and cleared it easily. By the time I was over it, he was halfway down the block.

  I pushed open the door to Pet Rescue and almost laughed out loud. Taylor was standing in the middle of the lobby tangled in the leashes of four rambunctious pups.

  “Looks like you’re a little tied up,” I said with a grin.

  Taylor rolled his eyes. “You could say that. A little help?”

  The dogs yipped as I helped them get unwound. A cocker spaniel named Jude licked my hand, either grateful or noticing the roast beef I’d had for lunch. “Here you go,” I said, handing the leashes over.

&
nbsp; Taylor gave me a goofy grin and headed out the door. I watched him go, wishing the case was as easy to unravel as the dogs’ leads.

  “Hey. You’re here! Does that mean the case is going well?” I turned to see Gwen behind the counter, and wondered whether she’d been there the whole time watching Taylor flail or had just appeared.

  “Lousy,” I admitted, picking up the pen and signing in. “So far all I’ve got is a scrap of slobbery paper, a greedy mayor, a cranky housekeeper, and a supposed fiancée.”

  Gwen gave me a sympathetic look. “Sounds tough.”

  I nodded, feeling my forehead crinkle. “All anyone ever liked about Ward was his money. They all want it, but nobody’s getting it. Why would you kill someone if you weren’t sure you’d get the cash? I’m beginning to think there might not be a case here at all….”

  “Keep at it,” Gwen suggested. “Something always comes up.” Her eyes drifted to my legs. “Are you neglecting my favorite German shepherd?”

  Sighing, I shook my head. “No, I just couldn’t pick him up today. I got into a tiny bit of, um, trouble at school.” I quickly explained about the chocolate pudding incident and my impending detention-plus-grounding doom.

  “Wow, you are having a rough day. Need a sip of my latte? It’s got extra whip.”

  “No, thanks.” I already had a jumpy stomach. “I just came by for a little one-on-one with Hugo before my lockup starts. How’s he doing?”

  Gwen took a sip of her coffee and put the cup down slowly. Not a good sign. “Cassie, I’m not sure you should get your hopes up about him. He’s not making a lot of progress with us.” The corners of her mouth pointed straight down.

  Ugh. This was the last thing I needed — more bad news. “But with me Hugo was —”

  “I know,” Gwen said soothingly. “Your magic was working with him. But —”

  “Which shows that he’s reachable.” I wouldn’t back down. I couldn’t back down. “We just need a little more time.”