The Case of the Faithful Frenchie

by B R Snow

  “How are you going to get where you’re going?”

  “Did you come here to tell me the news about my grandfather’s indiscretions, or do you want to play twenty questions?” he said, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “Some of both I guess.”

  “Okay,” he said, nodding. “I’ve got a few minutes. I’ll play along.”

  “Why can’t you tell anyone where you’ll be for the next nine months?”

  “It’s just one of those burdens I’m forced to carry by myself.”

  “Is Murray going with you?”

  “Of course. I never go anywhere without him,” he said, laughing as he watched Murray tap the screen door with a paw. The door bounced open about a foot, then the dog used his head to catch and hold the door open.

  Chloe came in, followed by Murray. The door closed behind them.

  “It always cracks me up when he does that,” Summerman said.

  “How old is he?”

  “Murray? He’s a timeless treasure, Suzy,” he said, giving the massive dog a soft thump on the back.

  “Your inability to tell anyone where you spend the other nine months of the year is related to what, national security?”

  “Sure, let’s go with that,” Summerman said, nodding.

  “And it might jeopardize some people’s safety if they knew?”

  “Well, it’s not so much a matter of safety, although I suppose that’s part of it. My inability to divulge where I go is more a question of belief than anything else.”

  “Belief?” I said, frowning. “Man, you could have given me a hundred guesses and I wouldn’t have got that.”

  “Nice to see I can surprise you occasionally,” he said, laughing.

  “Do you love Josie?”

  “More than you can imagine,” he whispered.

  “But you still can’t tell her?”

  “Suzy, I’m sure that Josie has shared all the gory details of our conversations about that topic.”

  “She has.”

  “And if I couldn’t tell the woman I love more than anyone, what made you think I would tell you?”

  “I thought maybe, since it’s your last day, I might catch you hammered and chatty,” I said, laughing.

  “Hammered and chatty?” he said, laughing along.

  “Hey, it was worth a shot. So, you’ll be back next June?”

  “That’s certainly my plan.”

  “First day of summer?”

  “Suzy, you know that I adore you, but you’re starting to get on my nerves.”

  “Sure, sure. I really need to work on that,” I said. “Who are Doc and Merlin?”

  “Man, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

  “Finally,” I said, laughing. “Somebody understands the problem.”

  “Unbelievable. Doc and Merlin are colleagues.”

  “During the other nine months of the year, right?”

  “Sort of,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I hate to be rude, Suzy. But I have to get going soon.”

  “I understand,” I said. “If I have any other questions, I’ll just write them down and hit you with them when you get back.

  “I look forward to it,” he said, heading for the door.

  “Take care of yourself, Summerman,” I said, stepping outside.

  “You too. And take care of this gorgeous Aussie. See you, Chloe,” he said, then caught my eye. “And say hi to her for me.”

  “Will do.”

  I headed for the boat, pausing to toss a stick for Chloe a few times as we made our way from the library to the boathouse. I backed the boat out and headed upriver. The sun was starting to set and a magnificent kaleidoscope of blue and orange was forming up and down the River. I slowed the boat and turned around and let it drift on the far side of Summerman’s island.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” I said, grabbing my binoculars.

  I waited as the sun began to disappear behind the other islands. Then in the fading light I watched the naked Summerman follow Murray to the shoreline. He glanced around in all directions, then began wading out into the water. Murray was already making a beeline for deep water, but he stopped and turned to wait for Summerman.

  Summerman slowly swam toward the main channel and an excited Murray swam circles around him as they continued. I kept the binoculars trained on Summerman who seemed focused, yet completely at peace. When they reached the edge of the channel, Summerman hugged Murray, then he dove under the water. Murray followed him down, and they both disappeared from sight.

  I waited for them to pop to the surface.

  Then I waited some more.

  After frantically scanning the surface of the water for the next five minutes, I lowered the binoculars and blinked.

  In near darkness, I tried to make some sense of what I’d just seen.

  Then I grabbed a pen and starting writing in my notebook.

  Come next June, someone would have a lot of questions to answer.

  Here’s an excerpt from the upcoming installment in The Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Mystery series; The Case of the Graceful Goldens.

  When Chef Claire’s Golden Retrievers are stolen, Suzy and the gang embark on a mission to not only find the missing dogs, but also to solve the mystery of who’s trying to kill off a famous dog breeder who’s in town to judge a dog show. As events begin to unfold, Suzy again finds herself unable to control her impulsive nature and is confronted with yet another disappointment as others once again fall short of expectations and she’s left to wonder why dogs get it, but people don’t.

  Chapter 1

  It was sunny but cold, and while I knew that the early morning frost would soon melt, the overnight temperature that had dropped into the teens was a stark reminder that winter was on the way. The ground had been crunchy when I took Chloe and Captain out to do their business an hour earlier, and now from the comfort of the living room, I could tell that Chef Claire was also dealing with a noisy morning walk as she carefully made her way across the slippery lawn. Al and Dente, her two Golden Retrievers, seemed less concerned with the cold and wind and wanted to play instead of focusing on the task at hand. Chef Claire grudgingly agreed and spent the next few minutes throwing tennis balls and then struggling to get them out of her dog’s mouths.

  Josie approached and stood next to me sipping coffee as we stared out the picture window overlooking the section of lawn that led down to our dock.

  “They’re such gorgeous dogs.”

  “They certainly are,” I said. “And she’s doing a great job with them.”

  Chef Claire had been given both dogs when they were eight weeks old for her birthday. Jackson, our former chief of police, and Freddie, our local medical examiner, had each given her a puppy completely unaware what the other’s gift was. The puppies were from the same litter, and Chef Claire had been overwhelmed by their generosity. Both men were still holding out hope that she would eventually profess her undying love and hoped that the gift of a puppy might tilt the scales in their favor. But despite the home run they had hit with the puppies, Jackson and Freddie remained firmly in Chef Claire’s category of just good friends.

  I watched Chef Claire hug herself as she bounced on her toes and fought the strong north wind. She waited, then watched both dogs complete their morning mission, and turned to head back toward the house. She waited for the dogs to follow her, but Al and Dente sat down and stared at her, their heads cocked, obviously waiting for a reward.

  “Watch this,” I said to Josie.

  Chef Claire trudged toward the swing that hung from a tree at the edge of the lawn and patted the high-backed wooden seat. We’d made the swing out of an old glider that used to sit on our verandah, but rarely used it. But the two Goldens had discovered it an early age, and any thoughts we had about removing the swing had disappeared. Al and Dente dashed across the lawn and leaped up on the seat, then turned and sat down facing the house. The dogs stuck the landing, and the swing barely moved.

  “Gra
ceful,” Josie said, finishing her coffee.

  “That’s the word,” I said, marveling at the dogs’ agility.

  Chef Claire began pushing the swing, and the dogs’ tongues lolled. As they swung back and forth, they seemed to have a huge smile on their faces. But there was no wondering about the smile on Chef Claire’s face: She was beaming. A few minutes later Chef Claire made her way back to the house with Al and Dente leading the way. The dogs trotted into the living room and began rolling around on the floor with Captain and Chloe. Chef Claire tossed her coat over a chair, sat down on a couch and smiled at all four dogs.

  “How on earth did you teach them to jump up on the swing?” Josie said.

  “I really didn’t,” Chef Claire said. “A couple of weeks ago I just tried patting the seat with my hand. And they figured it out right away. Now, I can’t get them off it.”

  “Smart,” Josie said, looking down at the two Goldens now draped across Chef Claire’s feet. “Aren’t you, Dente?”

  The female popped to her feet, sat on her haunches, and placed her front paws on Josie’s knees. Josie rubbed Dente’s head and glanced at the male, Al, who was returning her stare.

  “You too, Al. He’s a good boy. Aren’t you Al?” Josie said.

  Al stared at Josie, then nuzzled Chef Claire’s foot.

  “I can’t believe it,” Josie said. “He’s still mad at me. How is that possible?”

  Several weeks ago, Josie had neutered and spayed the dogs. Dente hadn’t harbored any resentment toward Josie, but Al still hadn’t forgiven her and remained aloof. Unaccustomed to receiving anything but unconditional love from every dog she came in contact with, Josie was perplexed by the dog’s ongoing indifference to her.

  “He’ll come around,” Chef Claire said, laughing.

  “I’m beginning to wonder,” Josie said, leaning down to rub Al’s head. “I’ve never seen a dog hold a grudge this long.”

  “Well, you did say he was a very smart dog,” I deadpanned. “Maybe he’s also a really good judge of character.”

  “Funny,” Josie said, settling back into the couch.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” I said, heading for the armoire.

  I removed four identical boxes and gave one to Josie and two to Chef Claire. I kept the fourth one for myself.

  “Early Christmas present,” I said, opening my box.

  “A GPS tracker?” Josie said.

  “Yeah. Apparently, the latest and greatest in dog security,” I said, removing the small object. “It attaches to the dog’s collar and has a signal with a radius of five miles. Just in case any of these guys ever happened to get loose.”

  “Like any of these guys would ever have a reason to go anywhere,” Josie said, laughing.

  I looked at the two Goldens draped over Chef Claire’s feet, then glanced over at Chloe, my Australian Shepherd who was sleeping in front of the fire and tucked under one of Captain’s front paws. Josie’s Newfie was stretched out full-length and snoring contentedly.

  “You’ve got a point there,” I said, laughing. “But I told the sales rep we’d give them a try for a month and let him know what we thought. There’s an app you can download and keep track of your dog right from your phone.”

  “So it just snaps around the collar?” Chef Claire said.

  “Yeah. Just try to keep Al from getting it off and eating it,” I said.

  “And try to keep him out of my closet,” Josie said, glaring down at Al. “He chewed another pair of my shoes yesterday.”

  “I told you I’d reimburse you for those,” Chef Claire said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Josie said. “It’s not the money. And I shouldn’t have left the closet door open.”

  “It’s really strange,” Chef Claire said. “He hasn’t chewed anything of mine in a couple months.”

  “I just told you,” Josie said. “He’s still mad at me. Aren’t you, Al?”

  Al glanced up at Josie, then closed his eyes and rolled over.

  “What a good boy,” I said, laughing. “Since we’re going to be in Grand Cayman for a week, I thought it might give us some peace of mind knowing they’re wearing these.”

  “Sammy and Jill will keep a close eye on them,” Josie said.

  Sammy and Jill were our two lead staff members, and, in addition to running things at the Inn while we were away, would be housesitting.

  “I guess it can’t hurt,” Josie said. “Captain. Come here, boy.”

  The Newfie woke, stretched, then walked over to Josie and stood patiently while she attached the device to his collar. Then Josie removed her phone, downloaded the app, and nodded her head.

  “How about that?” she said. “That was easy. And the tracker is working great. In case you weren’t sure, at the moment Captain is one foot away from me.”

  At one hundred and twenty pounds and still growing, the Newfie was a bit hard to miss.

  “Wow. That was easy,” Chef Claire said, examining both of the dogs’ collars and checking the signal on her phone. “Thanks, Suzy.”

  “No problem. Hopefully, we won’t ever need them,” I said, attaching the tracking device to Chloe’s collar.

  “I need to run to town,” Chef Claire said. “Do you mind if I borrow your SUV?”

  “It’s a bit of a mess at the moment,” I said.

  “How can you tell?” Josie deadpanned.

  “Funny. The front console that Rooster fixed a couple months ago has broken loose again. And there’s a new hole in the floor behind the driver seat. It looks like it completely rusted through.”

  Chef Claire and Josie shared an amused glance.

  “Don’t start,” I said. “I’m going to get a new car.”

  “When?” Josie said.

  “As soon as we get back from vacation,” I said.

  “I need to go to the store and pick up my bread order,” Chef Claire said. “And there’s no way I can fit it all in my car.”

  “Let’s take the boat,” I said. “The sun’s out so it shouldn’t be too bad out there.”

  We’d left the boat in the water longer than any other previous year. The fall had been mild, and the River was still devoid of ice. As such, we’d been able to get in several more boat rides than we did most other years.

  “You want to come along?” Chef Claire said.

  “Sure. I haven’t seen Jackson all week, and you’ll need a hand carrying all that bread. What do you say, Chloe?”

  “Chloe says no,” Josie said. “Today is booster shot day. Rabies, Lyme, Leptospirosis, and Coronavirus.”

  “I forgot,” I said. “Sorry, girl. But I’m sure that Al and Dente are up for a boat ride.”

  The Goldens perked up and cocked their heads at the mention of the boat ride. I laughed, then grabbed my coat and the keys to the boat, and we headed for the dock with the dogs leading the way. They sat on the dock and waited for us to remove the boat cover then they hopped into the boat and up onto the padded seat that ran the length of the transom. They sat side by side and stared at us.

  “They’re like athletes,” I said, again marveling at the dogs’ effortless agility.

  “I know,” Chef Claire said, climbing into the boat. “If they had thumbs, I’d put them to work in the restaurant.”

  I backed the boat out of its slip, and we made the short drive to town in less than ten minutes. I had my choice of parking spots at the town dock, and the dogs made the short jump from the boat to the dock and sat waiting for us. Chef Claire attached their leads and handed me Al’s. We strolled up the empty street before making the right turn that would take us to Jackson’s store.

  “My mother used to send me to the store for bread when I was a kid,” I said.

  “Are you taking a trip down memory lane?” Chef Claire said.

  “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s funny what triggers childhood memories. A couple times a week I’d take my dog and we’d walk to the store for milk and bread.”

  “I bet your mom never sent you out for a hundred
loaves,” Chef Claire said.

  “No, this is a first.”

  Chapter 2

  We walked across the parking lot and stopped outside the store under an alcove that was shielded from the wind. Chef Claire pulled about twenty feet of cord from the retractable leashes and secured them to a post Jackson had recently installed. She knelt down in front of Al and Dente and spoke to them in a soft voice as she rubbed their heads.

  “Sorry, guys,” she said. “But I can’t bring you in the store, so you’re going to have to hang out here for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

  Chef Claire stood up, and we headed for the entrance but stopped when we heard a quick blast from a car horn. We both turned around and saw the woman in an SUV waving at us. The vehicle was in a lot better shape than mine, to say the least. The driver side window went down and a gray-haired woman who was probably somewhere in her fifties beamed at us and pointed a finger at Al and Dente.

  “I’d recognize those two anywhere,” the woman said, turning the SUV off. “They’re mine, right?”

  “I beg your pardon,” Chef Claire said, staring at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “They’re not mine now, of course.”

  “I’m going to need a little more,” Chef Claire said, laughing.

  “I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “I’m Alexandra Vincent. Vincent Farms.”

  “Oh, sure,” I said. “Vincent Farms. You’re the Golden breeder. Lake Placid, right?”

  “Saranac Lake, actually,” she said, smiling. “But close enough. They’re doing great. What did you end up naming them?”

  “Al and Dente,” Chef Claire said, glancing at her two Goldens who seemed fixated on the back seat of the woman’s vehicle.

  “How clever,” Alexandra said. “Let me introduce you to their parents.”

  She lowered the back seat window about halfway, and two heads popped through the opening.

  “I’d like you to meet Lucky and Lucy,” Alexandra said. “Between them, they have over a hundred Best in Shows.”

  “You know, I never made the connection,” I said, approaching the vehicle. “You were on the cover of It’s a Dog’s World a couple of months ago with them.”