Gwen shook her head. “You are one stubborn girl, Cassie Sullivan.” She pushed a strand of pinkish hair away from her gray eyes and half smiled.
“I prefer determined.” I lifted my eyebrows in a dare and backed away from the counter until her half smile turned into a whole grin. Then I spun and pushed through the door leading to the kennels. My palms were a little sweaty and I could feel my heart thudding. Was I nervous or upset? Probably both. If I couldn’t help Hugo …
Don’t go there, I told myself. I needed to pull it together or Hugo would smell my negative emotions like fish sitting too long in the sun. Turning, I made a last minute stop in the small staff room to give myself a minute. I shoved all my stuff into one of the lockers, took a deep breath, and pushed back into the noisy kennels.
Hugo was lying in the far corner with his chin on his front paws. “Hey, buddy, how’s it going?” I called through the chain link.
Hugo lifted his head and barked roughly in response.
“I know, I know,” I said. “You want to get out.” I lifted a leash off the hook and slowly opened the door. Hugo got to his feet, shaking out his back legs, and took a few steps closer before stopping. I took that as an invitation to put the leash on and went for it. Click! Mission accomplished.
“Good boy,” I told him as we walked to the back door. I wanted to avoid Taylor and his yipping pups. The fewer distractions Hugo and I had, the better. Outside, Hugo sniffed and tugged and peed in at least a dozen places. Watching him, I felt a smile sprouting at the corners of my mouth. Progress.
Back inside, Hugo took a long drink and flopped down on the floor of his kennel. “Comfy?” I asked as his tongue lolled to the side. He was definitely relaxed. I leaned down and gave him a pat. “I’ve got to go, and I might not be back for a while. Gwen and Taylor will take good care of you, though. So give them a break, okay?” He snuffled out an exhale and actually thumped his tail. “Good boy.”
Smiling, I went to get my stuff out of the locker. Finally, something was going right! I slung my backpack over my shoulder and returned to Hugo’s kennel for a happy good-bye. I considered inviting Gwen in to see how well Hugo was doing.
It was a good thing I didn’t.
I knew something was wrong as soon as I opened the latch. Instantly, Hugo was on his feet, hackles raised and teeth bared. The growl in his throat was menacing and directed at me. The only thing that had changed was that I was wearing my pack and not carrying a leash — nothing that seemed upsetting. Only Hugo was clearly upset.
I backed away, shocked and hurt. “Hugo?” I said quietly. “Hugo, it’s me. Didn’t we just have a nice walk?” His growl deepened.
With my heart in my stomach, I closed the kennel. I’d gone from victory to defeat in seconds — the story of my day.
Everything was going from bad to worse.
The Nose and I were still on the move, making our way back home. There was no time for sniffing or lifting a leg. There was no time to rest. Not that the housekeeper was after us. I’d probably scared her enough to keep her inside for the rest of the night. I wasn’t proud — I was no bully. But it had gotten messy.
Gatsby’s ears dragged on the ground. His tail was low, too. He was dog-tired, and shaken. He twitched every time a car passed. Watching him, I felt terrible. I’d dragged a fellow dog into a dangerous situation. I’d compromised the investigation by letting myself be seen prowling around the Ward estate … twice! And I’d threatened a human.
I hadn’t had a choice. I couldn’t let Gatsby get dragged off. Any dog worth his license would help out a comrade.
Luckily, my tunnel under Gatsby’s fence hadn’t been filled in. Gatsby turned and touched his nose to mine. The message was clear: No hard feelings. Thanks for the backup. I whimpered in response, then barked. “Woof!” Time to get back under that fence.
The Nose nosed his way through, wiggling under the wooden slats. I looked through a crack and saw him amble up the stairs. He barked at the door. It opened. Gatsby was home safe.
Home. Cassie. Supper! Supper. Supper. Supper. I turned and ran, ignoring my aching paws. I cleared the back fence with a little effort and landed on the long grass. The Brother had some mowing to do.
Inside, The Dad was making dinner. The butter dish was on the counter. A new stick of butter was inside. I heard water running upstairs. I needed water. I took a long lap from my bowl, then trotted up the stairs. Cassie was in the shower.
I barked outside the bathroom and sat down to wait. It was the least I could do. I hadn’t made it home to greet my girl … again! I rested my chin in my paws and closed one eye. The hall was a busy place. The Brother and The Sister were dragging boxes, bickering about who had right of way. I considered playing traffic cop, then decided against it. I let my shoulders slump and waited for Cassie. She liked long showers.
Finally, the water turned off. My tail thumped. Cassie was in there. Cassie would be out soon. I cocked my good ear. Heard her step out of the tub. Towel off. I was on my feet before she touched the door handle.
I stepped back, ready to greet her. My whole back end wagged. But when she opened the door, all I got was a feeble smile.
“Hey, boy,” she greeted. “Where’ve you been?” Her head was low and her shoulders drooped. Her invisible tail was hanging straight down. I followed her into our room and nuzzled her hand to let her know it was all right. That I was here. She leaned her forehead into mine. I licked her cheek and remembered the clue. It was slimy and crumpled, but I gave it to her anyway.
Cassie stared at the slimy ring of paper. “What’s this?” she asked, turning it over. Woof. A clue. “Thanks, Dodge.” She set it on the bedside table next to the other paper scrap — the burned one — and watched The Brother carry another box of stuff down the hall.
This is what you wanted, I told myself. This is what you wanted, and now you’re getting it. How many times had I told my parents I wanted my own room? A thousand? A million? A lot. So why, now that Sam was leaving, did I feel so … abandoned?
I dropped my head into my hands. It wasn’t Sam’s departure that bothered me. It was Owen’s.
I felt a gentle paw on my knee. Peeking through my fingers, I saw Dodge’s chocolate eyes gazing at me worriedly. He was so right. I hadn’t been abandoned. I wasn’t alone. I had him.
I reached out and ruffled the soft spot on his head. “Why do human relationships have to be so complicated?” Dodge licked my thumb. “I wish it were that simple,” I sighed.
Owen and I used to be friends. We used to do stuff together. Then, on his fifteenth birthday, I suddenly turned into vermin. I hadn’t even done anything. But just like that, everything changed.
I eyed my dismantled room. Sam had been busy, but she wasn’t exactly neat. Half-packed boxes, piles of clothes, shoes, books … I could barely see the floor. Once Sam was gone I’d have to get Hayley to come over. She’d have this place fixed up in no time and probably bring a celebratory chocolate cake to boot. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, she’d tell me. Embrace your freedom!
I smiled in spite of myself. Hayley would find the good in this situation. And then she’d turn it into great. I looked around for my laptop — Hayley was probably online right now — but didn’t see the computer. My little sister had taken that, too.
“Sam!” I shouted down the hall. “Where’s the computer?”
“Duh. I’m using it,” she replied snottily.
“You’ve had it all afternoon. My turn!”
“Patience is a virtue,” she sing-songed, “that you don’t have!”
I bolted to my feet, startling Dodge, and charged into the hall. Sam could be such a brat! I was going to give her an earful! I was going to …
Unfortunately, I was intercepted by Mom, who stood imposingly in the upstairs hall. “Were you planning on using the computer for homework, Cassandra?” she asked calmly. “Because I just got off the phone with Mr. Bettendorf, and I’m afraid you’re grounded until further notice. And that means —”
“No screen time unless it’s for educational purposes,” I said in frustration.
“Close,” she replied, arching a single brow. “Homework only.”
If I were a dog I would have howled. Loudly. But I wasn’t a dog, I was a girl. A grounded, no-computer-privileges girl. Still, I had to say something. I had to try to explain. “She deserved it, Mom.”
Mom bit her lip. “That may be, Cassandra, but you have to learn a little self-control. You cannot douse someone in chocolate pudding every time you don’t like their behavior.”
Sam let out a guffaw from the doorway of her new room. “Pudding? Who?”
“None of your business,” I snapped. Eavesdropper.
“I’ll bet I can guess. And I bet she didn’t deserve it. I bet you were just jealou —”
“That’s enough, Samantha.” Mom held up a hand, and Sam made a face but kept her mouth closed. I waited for Mom to retreat after delivering my sentence, but she changed the subject instead.
“We got a call from Verdel Ward’s housekeeper at the station today. She says a dog keeps coming around the Ward property. She’s seen him twice now … a large German shepherd. And a smaller dog, too.”
I forced myself not to look at Dodge. He’d obviously been busy! Maybe that was where he found the slimy ring of paper. I hadn’t paid much attention when he gave it to me, but if he’d picked it up at Ward’s …
“Cassandra?” Mom sounded impatient. “Would you care to shed some light on this?”
I shrugged, glad I really didn’t know what Dodge had been up to. Lying to Mom was hard. Lying under pressure was harder. “Was it that new patrol dog, Hero? I’ve heard he’s a little out of control …”
Mom crossed her arms over her chest and gave me her police chief look. “No, it wasn’t Hero. Cassie, I’ve got enough to handle without having to take calls about a” — she cleared her throat — “wandering dog.”
Dodge chose that moment to raise his chin and look up at Mom with puppy-dog innocence.
“Don’t give me that look, Dodge,” she said. “I know better.”
I was shocked. Was Mom on to us? Suddenly revoked computer privileges seemed perfectly reasonable. Lenient, even. “Okay, got it.” I said. “You won’t see me near a keyboard unless it’s for school.”
Mom dropped her hands to her sides. “Good. Dinner is in fifteen minutes, and it’s your night to set the table.”
In other words: no time to look at the clue that Dodge had brought me.
Sam was on cleanup, and I cleared my plate while she whined about having to wash the enchilada pan. Halfway through my plate of tortilla, poblanos, cheese, and sauce, I’d gotten an idea.
Patting my leg, I summoned Dodge and headed to the basement. Owen had disappeared from the table early to work on his room. This was my chance to see his new setup, and hopefully get a little computer access, too. But I couldn’t just waltz down the stairs. I needed an emissary …
“Lead the way, boy,” I whispered, giving Dodge a nudge. He padded down the stairs, leaving me waiting at the top in the semidarkness.
“Hey, Dodge,” Owen greeted. “Whaddya think of my new digs? Not bad, eh?” I could picture Owen holding Dodge’s head between his hands and giving him a friendly shake. Dodge responded with his silly, open-mouth play growl. I waited another ten seconds, then started down.
“How’s it going?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I was interested, of course. But I didn’t need Owen to know that.
Owen got up and followed my gaze around the room. “Coming along,” he said.
I looked at my brother’s messy hair. At the tiny bit of stubble on his chin. At his blank expression. He looked sort of … sad. And that made me sad, too.
I’d been thinking about making up some story about needing his computer, but his slumped shoulders changed my mind. “Look, I’m grounded and I need to look some stuff up online. Can I use your laptop?” I asked.
Owen frowned for a second, but Dodge leaned up against him and let out a squeaky yawn. Owen couldn’t help but smile.
Nice work, I thought, watching my brother’s face soften. He grappled Dodge’s big head and threw a chin toward his cluttered desk. “Make it fast.”
Heaving a sigh of relief, I hurried over and opened the laptop, quickly finding a homework cover page. Then I pulled out the scrap of paper Dodge had brought me and set it on the desk. It was some sort of white and gold ring, and had several letters running across it. Punching the letters in, I soon learned that the scrap was actually a custom band from a very expensive Cuban cigar. “Who would spend seventy-five dollars on one cigar?” I murmured to myself as the obvious answer popped into my head: Verdel Ward. Closer inspection revealed that it wasn’t just pricey — it was custom. The lightning bolt design was a fancy version of Verdel Ward’s initials: V. W. I carefully put the band back into my pocket before moving on to my next search topic — Ward’s business.
Squinting at the screen, I tried to wrap my 8:00 P.M. head around what Ward did for a living. From what I could tell, wealthy people gave him their money to put into stocks or businesses or whatever he thought would make them more money. And according to the older investor reviews, Ward was good at it. Amazing returns, somebody wrote. Out-of-the-box investment thinking, with impressive results, said another. The most recent comments, though, told a different story. Don’t go near him, one person wrote. Steer clear if you value your savings, said another. Although Ward himself was ridiculously wealthy, it looked like he’d lost huge amounts of other people’s money. A few more clients reported that he didn’t keep accurate records, and had stopped returning their calls.
I jotted down the screen names of a few clients who sounded most upset: SoreandPoor, DeadBroke, and MoneyHuntr. Could one of them be a suspect? It seemed possible …
I was lost in thought when my brother’s voice butted into my headspace.
“Okay. You’ve had your time. Now get out.”
Ouch. I logged out and closed the laptop. “Thanks a ton,” I said, trying to ignore the rejected feeling ballooning in my gut. “Good night.” I said it without looking at him. Then I turned and led Dodge up the stairs.
I pulled Bunny out, circled three times, and thumped the carpet with my front paws. I lay down on my bed next to Cassie’s. Whump! I put my head down and let out a long breath through my nose. It felt good to settle.
“I know.” Cassie dropped her hand into my fur. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Our breathing found a rhythm and we exhaled the day.
It hadn’t been a good one for either of us. First Gatsby’s family stapled chicken wire along the bottom of their fence. I couldn’t dig through chicken wire. Not even a little. And that meant I couldn’t spring Gatsby. My best canine friend was basically in jail. And it was my fault.
Then Owen closed his door. Cassie and I had to stay out. Having to stay out made my girl’s ears droop. No computer. No new information about the case. No clues. No digging. No bones. We needed a bone. Dog, did we need a bone.
I closed my eyes. Cassie’s fingers worked my fur, and I let them lull me. The thump-thump-thump of her heart echoed in my ears. Her perfect smell lingered in my nose. My mind drifted to the first night I slept by her bed. The first night I let down my guard. After. After the accident. Somehow I knew I’d found her. I didn’t know I’d been looking, but I knew I’d found something that had been missing. I’d found someone I could love and trust. Just when I thought there’d never be anybody else …
“Dodge!” a voice called in the darkness. Was it dark? Or was I blinded by the smoke? I couldn’t tell. I whimpered, confused. I couldn’t see through the thick, stinging air. Couldn’t smell, either. Breathe in. Breathe out. Every breath hurt. Breathe in. Cough …
I couldn’t turn back. I had to stay. Stay. No. Had to go. Had to reach the voice. My lungs howled. I fought my way forward, toward my partner.
“Dodge! Get out!” Mark’s voice choked. “Go!”
I could not go. I wheezed
. I crouched lower, pulling myself on my paws. My belly scraped the floor. I squinted. Wheezed. Inched closer.
Finally, I reached him. My partner. He was lying on the floor. I grabbed his collar and tugged. He didn’t budge. I pulled again. “No, Dodge. No. Bad dog! Go. Get out. Get away!!”
Bad dog? The words stung more than the smoke in my eyes. The smoke in my lungs. My chest was heavy with shame and confusion. Bad dog?
I could feel myself slipping into the nothingness. My partner went limp. Soon it would be too late. I had to get out. I had to get us both out. I braced my legs on the floor and grabbed my partner’s pants in my teeth. I pulled hard. The large body shifted slightly. I felt dizzy. I braced again, lowering my body to the floor. I leaned back and pulled …
And a massive explosion rocked the building.
The only good thing about detention was that I could make notes about the Ward case in peace. Leaning back in my uncomfortable chair, I reviewed what I’d written in my notebook:
1) Verdel Ward is dead.
2) Verdel Ward has no will.
3) Verdel Ward had some unhappy clients.
a. Were any of them unhappy enough to kill him?
4) Louisa Frederick (Ward’s housekeeper) was the last person to see him alive.
a. Louisa Frederick is cranky.
b. Is she still at the house because of loyalty, or does she have another motive?
5) A woman claims that she and Verdel Ward were engaged.
a. Really??? Seems totally unlikely that he’d marry anyone, or that anyone would marry him!
6) Mayor Baudry wants Ward’s money badly.
a. Why doesn’t he want Mom investigating?
7) Physical evidence:
a. Burned scrap from mansion.
b. Custom cigar band — expensive habit!
I finished reading and tapped my pencil on the table-top. Tap, tap, tap. Tap. Tap. TAP! Frustration fell over me like a wet blanket. How on earth could I solve this case when all I had was a bunch of questions … and detention? I was stuck like a mouse in a glue trap. Not even reading To Collar a Killer was helping.
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