by B R Snow
“Hi, Mrs. C. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, Bentley,” my mother said. “I’m sorry about Wilbur. And, of course, about the recent passing of your father.”
“Thank you,” he said, flatly. “They’re both in a better place.”
“I’d like you to meet my daughter Suzy. And next to her is her business partner Josie. Darling, I’d like you to meet Bentley Winters.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, not extending my hand for fear of creating another problem for him. “I’m sorry about the loss of your-”
I stopped because I realized I had no idea how he and the deceased Buggy were related.
“Wilbur was my brother,” Bentley whispered.
It appeared that it pained him to admit the family connection, and I assumed that Bentley had never quite warmed up to the nickname Buggy.
“You must be devastated,” I said.
I always have trouble finding the appropriate thing to say during times like this, and my devastated comment sounded somehow insufficient. I suppose I could just remain silent, but that seemed rude.
“Yes, devastated,” he said without emotion. “Simply tragic. But given Wilbur’s history, it was highly predictable that he would eventually go out the same way as he lived.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you mean,” I said, frowning.
“Every family has at least one cautionary tale, Ms. Chandler,” he said, then he brightened and clapped his hands once. “I understand you’re conducting some form of favorite dog betting pool.”
“Yes, we are,” I said, surprised by his sudden mood swing. “You can get your tickets at the table right over there.”
“I see,” Bentley said. “And if there were some likely winners of today’s contest, you’d be the person to talk with, right?”
“Well, all the dogs are pretty special,” I said, frowning as I glanced at Josie.
“Of course, of course,” he said, looking over at the dogs. “But surely there are some with shorter odds than the others.”
“I’d go with a trifecta of two little dogs and one big one,” Josie deadpanned.
Rooster stifled a laugh, and I looked at my mother who gave me a small shrug. Bentley was now staring at Josie. Apparently, it was the first time he had really noticed her, and his reaction was predictable. Josie avoided Bentley’s smarmy leer by leaning down to pet Captain.
“That sounds like wonderful advice,” Bentley said. “Perhaps we’ll get a chance to review our results later.”
“I’m pretty booked up today,” Josie said. “You know, wench duties and all.”
“Of course,” Bentley said, laughing. “One can only wonder about what some of those duties might entail.”
“Yes,” Josie said, giving him a small smile. “Wonder is all that one can do.”
“Yes, indeed. Point taken. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go review the contestants.”
We watched him stroll toward the dogs seemingly without a care in the world.
“That was weird,” Josie said.
“Weird is a word for it,” Jackson said.
“I can’t believe he just lost his brother and can be that casual about it,” I said.
“I can’t believe he was trying to get inside betting tips on a favorite dog contest,” Josie said.
“Bentley is an inveterate gambler,” Rooster said. “He will bet on anything.”
“Will and does,” my mother said, glancing over at Bentley who was busy chatting up a couple of the female handlers. “I heard that the family had to put him on a restricted allowance.”
“Why on earth are all the Winters here?” Jackson said. “I haven’t seen them around in years, and now all of them show up for the Parade of Pirates.”
“And one of them ends up dead in the process,” I said.
“They’re all here because the old man just died,” Rooster said, catching my eye.
“The funeral was a couple of weeks ago,” Jackson said. “But I guess they could all be here to get some things in order with the estate.”
Rooster continued to stare at me, and I remembered his follow the money comment. I nodded, then turned to Jackson.
“You mentioned that some documents were taken from the bank.”
“What about them?” Jackson said.
“Is there any way to find out what they were?” I said.
“Please, don’t start, Suzy,” Jackson said.
“What?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Snoopmeister. This one has all the hallmarks of just being a bank robbery that ended badly for one of the robbers. And when it comes to any missing documents, we’re talking about safe deposit boxes, and nobody except their owners would know what was in them.”
“Sure, sure.”
“What’s on your mind, darling?”
“Nothing, Mom. I was just trying to remember if we had any accounts or safe deposit boxes with First National.”
We didn’t. And that was a fact my mother was very aware of. She studied my face, but let the moment pass without further comment.
“Okay, it’s Showtime,” my mother said. “Oh, I forgot to ask you, darling. Do you have any people assigned to do cleanup just in case we have any accidents along the way?”
“We’re all set, Mom,” I said. “You’ll find a broom and scooper under the table next to Sammy.”
“Funny, darling.”
In the end, the dog parade was a huge hit and went off without a hitch. Captain, who looked adorable in his Jolly Roger hat along with the small keg of rum draped around his neck, was the runaway winner. At the last minute and while avoiding the glare my mother was giving me, I had removed Chloe’s leash. And after she masterfully herded the dogs and their handlers along the parade route, Chloe was voted as the second favorite dog. Tiny, with the six-year-old Gwen riding on him for a portion of the parade, finished a close third. At the end of the day, thirteen dogs had been adopted, and Josie and I decided that all our hard work had been well worth the effort.
Before my mother announced the results of the favorite dog contest, she decided to also announce that the dog parade would be returning as part of next year’s celebration. That bit of news caught Josie and me by surprise, and I knew she had done it as payback for my removing Chloe’s leash. But I immediately filed it away as one of those things that would take less effort to just agree to do than it would to fight with my mother about. And when she finally did get around to announcing the winners, I had to admit that I fully enjoyed watching Bentley Winters tear up a big stack of losing tickets and toss them into the air.
Chapter 6
When we pulled back into our dock at the Inn, we thanked Rooster with a bottle of Remy Martin, his favorite beverage, and said goodbye. After we had gotten all the dogs settled back into their condos, we headed for my office with Captain and Chloe leading the way. I sat down behind my desk and Chloe, still convinced she was a puppy, hopped up onto my lap. Josie sank into the couch and waited for Captain to get himself settled with his head in her lap. She opened a fresh bag of bite-sized Snickers and held it up in my direction.
“No, thanks,” I said. “Dinner’s in a couple of hours, and I’m trying to cut back a bit on the snacking.”
“So who’s going to be there tonight?” she said, popping one of the morsels into her mouth.
“My mom says all of Buggy’s siblings and his mother will be there. And probably a few spouses as well.”
“I must say that this is a bit of a change,” Josie said, gently thumping Captain’s side which caused his tail to turn into a metronome.
“How so?”
“Your mother is actually encouraging you to do some snooping.”
“Yeah, that is strange. And Rooster is doing the same thing.”
“What are you thinking so far?” Josie said.
“Well, I need to have another conversation with Rooster because I think he knows more than he’s told us so far. And his comme
nt about following the money leads me to believe that it has something to do with how the Winters’ estate is going to be distributed.”
“But wouldn’t everything just pass to the wife?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it does,” I said, reaching for the bag of bite-sized. “Maybe I’ll have just one.” I popped it into my mouth. “Forget it, Chloe. No chocolate for you. According to my mom, the wife is in her nineties. Maybe there are some questions about who gets what after she dies.”
“And you’re thinking that whoever robbed the bank might have been looking for a copy of the old man’s will?”
“Yes, I think it’s a possibility,” I said, gently lifting Chloe and setting her down on the floor. “You’re getting too big for my lap, girl. As soon as Jackson mentioned that documents were taken from the safe deposit boxes that was the first thing that popped into my head.”
“Hmmm. I guess it’s possible,” Josie said, tossing the bag of bite-sized into a drawer next to the couch.
“What?”
“We’ve been down this road before,” she said. “This reminds me of the Crawford situation. We had assumed that a will was behind that, but we were wrong.”
A little over a year ago, Josie and I had discovered the dead body of William Crawford, a candy magnate who had owned an island in the area. Along with the body, we had discovered Chloe, who was still a puppy, swimming in the River. And when we had stopped by Crawford’s island to return Chloe, we’d been drawn into a complicated web of deceit and discord.
Perhaps drawn into was a bit of a reach. At my insistence, we’d pretty much inserted ourselves into the process. But the situation had worked out about as well as it could have in the end, and I’d adopted Chloe as my own. I looked down at her sleeping next to my chair and couldn’t believe how much she’d grown since we’d first found her frantically swimming for her life in the River.
“Yeah, we were wrong about the will,” I said. “But the Crawford situation was still all about who was going to control things going forward. So, I agree. There does seem to be some similarities between the two.”
“Well, if there is more to learn, I’m sure you’ll ferret it out at dinner tonight,” Josie said. “Or at least drive everybody nuts trying.”
The office door opened and Sammy poked his head in.
“Need you guys out here,” he said.
We followed him out to reception were Detective Abrams was holding his Basset Hound. A bloody towel was wrapped around one of the dog’s front legs.
“What happened?” I said.
“I was taking Wally for a walk, and he stepped on a broken bottle,” Detective Abrams said. “The bleeding has pretty much stopped, but I think there still might be a piece of glass in his foot.”
“Oh, Wally,” Josie said, taking the dog from Detective Abrams. “You poor guy. Let’s go get you fixed up.”
Detective Abrams and I followed Josie into one of the exam rooms. She put Wally on the table and carefully removed the bloody towel. She inspected the wound, then looked up at us.
“There’s definitely still a shard of glass in there. And it’s right between two of his paw pads. The poor guy. That must hurt like a bugger. Right, Wally?”
Wally glanced up at Josie with sad eyes. It was hard to tell if Wally agreed with Josie’s assessment because it was his normal expression. But I glanced down at the wound and knew that it probably did hurt like a bugger. I stroked one of Wally’s long ears and rubbed his head.
“Are you going to have to knock him out?” Detective Abrams said, his voice trembling.
“No, as long as we can keep him reasonably calm, we won’t have to do that,” Josie said, stroking the Basset’s back. “I’m going to give him a shot of Lidocaine to numb the pain, then I’ll go in and get the glass out. He’ll need a couple of stitches, then he’ll be good to go. Suzy, I’m going to need some help keeping him quiet. You want to go get Jill?”
“No, I’m good,” I said.
“You sure?” Josie said, then she looked at Detective Abrams. “She has a tendency to either throw up or pass out.”
“Funny,” I snapped. “It was just that one time, and you know it.”
“Yeah,” Josie said, chuckling. “But it was a classic.”
Josie got up and organized what she would need, then sat back down and pulled an overhead lamp down close to the dog’s paw. She inserted a needle near the wound, and Wally flinched, but otherwise stayed calm.
“Okay, we’ll just give that a second to kick in. Detective Abrams, I’m going to need you to keep him immobilized the best you can. And keep talking to him in a calm voice. Suzy, I’ll need you to keep Wally’s leg steady. Just put both your hands on his leg about a foot from where I’m working. Don’t put too much pressure on the leg unless he starts squirming.”
“Is he going to squirm?” I said.
“Well, I’m going to have to make an incision in his foot so I can see what I’m doing, so I’d say the odds are pretty good he’s going to try to make a run for it.”
Despite his concern, Detective Abrams laughed.
“You’re a real piece of work, Doc,” he said, shaking his head.
“I have my moments,” Josie said.
We watched as Josie efficiently and quickly removed a two-inch shard of glass from the dog’s foot. Wally handled it pretty well and actually seemed to sigh when he caught a glimpse of it in the tweezers Josie was holding.
“Nasty,” Josie said, setting the tweezers down. “People need to learn how to dispose of their trash.”
She cleaned and inspected the wound, applied an antiseptic cream, then used three stitches to close the cut. Then she bandaged the wound and taped it tight.
“I’ll be right back,” Josie said, heading out the back door of the exam room.
Moments later, she returned holding one of the dreaded plastic neck cones. Both of us hated using them, probably more than most dogs hated having to wear one. Josie held it directly in front of Wally, and he stared at it.
“You remember what this is, don’t you, Wally?” Josie said.
“That was a bad week,” Detective Abrams said.
A couple of years ago, Wally had suffered a similar cut and was unable to stop himself from chewing the bandage. As such, he’d been forced to wear a neck collar until his foot healed and, according to Detective Abrams, Wally had spent a large portion of the days and nights emitting a long, plaintive wail that kept everyone up, including several neighbors.
“Okay, Wally,” Josie said, staring into the dog’s eyes. “I’m not going to put this contraption on you, but your dad is going to have it just in case you can’t control yourself.” Josie continued to stare at Wally as she placed her hand on the fresh bandage. “Don’t chew. Just leave the bandage alone, Wally.” She patted the bandage and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t chew the bandage.”
“Think that will work?” I said.
“Probably about as well as it does with you,” Josie deadpanned.
“Funny.”
“Okay, Wally. You’re all set,” Josie said. “Detective Abrams, I’m going to give you something for the pain that should keep him pretty groggy for a couple of days. The less pain he feels, the more he might keep from chewing his foot. But if he does, you know the drill.”
“I’ll warn the neighbors,” he said, lifting the dog off the table.
“Try to keep him off his feet as much as possible,” Josie said.
“Will do,” Detective Abrams said. “Thanks so much, Josie. Should we settle up now?”
“No, you should get him home so he can rest,” Josie said, giving the dog a final head rub. “We’ll just bill you.”
“You know where to find me,” he said, heading for the door with the dog in his arms.
“I’ll walk you out,” I said.
I followed him outside and helped him get Wally situated in the back seat.
“Thanks, Suzy,” he said, opening the driver side door. “Say, I meant to tell you. My wife a
nd I had dinner at C’s the other night, and it was fantastic. Chef Claire continues to amaze us.”
“She’s something else,” I said. “What did you have?”
“We had the Lover’s Platter for two.”
“Good choice. Chef Claire just added that one to the menu, and it’s very popular. Was it your anniversary?”
“No, just our regular date night,” Detective Abrams said, smiling broadly.
He and his wife were approaching thirty years of marriage and always seemed very happy every time I saw them together.
“What’s your secret, Detective Abrams?”
“No, secret. I just married the right woman,” he said, the smile on his face refusing to leave. “It must be nice having that restaurant.”
“You wouldn’t believe how spoiled it’s made us,” I said, laughing. “We’re going tonight with my mom. She’s invited the Winters clan to join us.”
“Why on earth would she do that?” he said, frowning.
“Uh, let’s say she’s trying to figure out a few things and needs my help.”
“Like why Buggy Winters was in the bank when it exploded?”
“Yeah,” I said, casually. “We’ve been wondering about that.”
“You’re not the only one,” he said, studying my face. “What else have you been wondering about, Suzy?”
“Well, for one, how could a guy that close to an explosion have so little damage done to his body?”
“That’s a good question.”
“And what reason would someone who’s been the black sheep of the family for years have for being in the bank when it got robbed?”
“Maybe he needed money,” Detective Abrams said.
“Sure, sure,” I said, nodding. “But I don’t think Buggy was involved in the robbery. And I doubt if you do either.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t.”
“You think he happened to show up after the robbery, right?” I said.
“Well, he would have had to get there right after the robbery since you guys showed up pretty quick after the second explosion,” he said. “But that’s a possibility.”