“What’s wrong, Bee?” Nika asked, smoothing Lulu’s rough coat. “You’re awfully quiet.”
Bridget slouched on a wood chair at the kitchen table. “November is so draining. If I had my druthers, I’d probably only leave this house to walk the dogs. Yet most days I’m out poking around strangers’ homes or meeting sponsors. Then I run myself ragged waiting tables. On top of all that, this year I have a mayor who wants nothing to do with me, yet still wants to micromanage the pageant.”
Nika looked like she wished she hadn’t asked—probably not because she didn’t care, but because she didn’t know what to say. Duff was usually the one to handle Bridget’s pre-pageant jitters.
“It’ll all work out fine,” Nika said, sitting down in the middle of the kitchen floor and crossing her legs. “It always does, doesn’t it?”
“I guess so.” Bridget dragged Beau over to get inspected, too. He submitted like a gentleman, although he hated having his ears sniffed.
Nika finished with Beau and pulled Fritz into position. Her eyes lost focus as she started going over his coat. She knew the geography of these dogs by memory, and it was easiest to let her fingertips search for trouble. One by one, she groped every dog from head to toe, looking for ticks, sores, and miscellaneous bumps. Keeping tabs on that many dogs was a big job.
When she was nearly done, Bridget asked, “Tea or wine?”
Nika pretended to think about the question as Bridget crossed to the wine rack. Maisie and Cori rarely touched alcohol, so it was nice to unwind with Nika. When she finished with the last dog, Nika let them surge all over her, wriggling and licking, before taking the glass Bridget handed her.
Still on the floor, Nika raised her glass. “To the best pageant ever.”
As they sipped, there was a knock on the front door. The dogs exploded into barking, only to be instantly silenced as Bridget called, “Quiet.” They’d done their job. Only a foolish visitor would get up to funny business with 13 dogs on the premises.
She opened the front door to find a tall, earnest-looking man with closely cropped fair hair and a serious set to his square jaw standing on the porch. The sun was setting behind him but there was enough light to see he was wearing a uniform of some kind.
“Good evening, Ms. Linsmore,” he said, flashing a badge that she could barely see. “I’m Officer Moller. Joe Moller.”
“Hello, Officer. What can I do for you?” Bridget didn’t open the screen, for 13 good reasons. Fritz couldn’t see out the door, or even push through the pack to get near it, so he just jumped again and again to try to get a look at the man.
“We’ve had a complaint, ma’am,” he said.
“A complaint?” She was irked by the “ma’am.” He looked about her age, after all. “What kind of complaint?”
He cleared his throat. “A complaint that there are too many dogs on the premises, ma’am.”
Bridget fumbled on the wall for the switch and Officer Moller blinked a few times as the light came on. There was a City crest on his dark jacket, but the uniform wasn’t familiar. “Someone called the cops about my dogs?”
“Not the police, ma’am.” He cleared his throat again; it must be a nervous tic. “The Canine Corrections Department.”
“You’re a dog cop?” Her voice rose enough to cause a ripple in the pack. Beau forced his way through the throng and pressed against her side.
Nika came out of the kitchen with her wine glass. “What’s going on?”
“A dog cop is here with a complaint about the number of dogs on the premises.”
“Why?” Nika nudged dogs aside with her knee so she could stand beside Bridget.
He raised his phone and read from the screen. “City bylaw subsection five point two prescribes that residential home owners may have up to four dogs on the premises.”
“Excuse me?” Bridget sounded confused. All the words made sense, but what he said didn’t compute. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m saying you have too many dogs here, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “According to City bylaws.”
“Too many dogs? That’s ridiculous!” Bridget’s words shot out. “Since when is there a limit on how many dogs people can have?”
Officer Moller stepped back, as if Bridget’s tone was more daunting than 13 dogs trying to get at him through a screen door. “It’s the same bylaw that’s been around for 20 years, ma’am. Nothing’s changed.”
“Something’s changed, because I usually have more than four dogs, and dog cops have never come by.”
His shrug was almost imperceptible. “The only thing that’s changed is that someone complained, ma’am. I guess no one did before. So, now we had to come out.”
Nika reached behind Bridget and turned out the lights. “Okay, you came out. How many dogs do you see, Officer?”
“Very funny, but I’m not the one drinking,” he said. “Rough head count, a dozen dogs, give or take.”
“Who complained?” Bridget asked.
“I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am. The CCD has an anonymous hotline.”
Bridget turned the light back on, and then squeezed out the door past the dogs. Beau whined, but she shushed him. “Is this for real? Or is someone pranking me?”
Nika’s fingers were busy on her phone. “He’s right about the City bylaws, Bridget. But I see no mention of their ever being enforced.”
“Someone’s gotta be pranking me. It’s Frank, I bet.”
Officer Moller shook his head. “It’s not a prank, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
She stared at him, looking for clues. “If you’re with the CCD you must know who I am.”
“I know about your rescue work and the pageant, ma’am, yes.”
Every “ma’am” felt like a smack. “Let’s cut to the chase, Officer Moller. Who do I have to talk to clear this up?”
“You can call the CCD in the morning ma’am. You’ll also need to remove eight or so dogs to get under the legal limit.”
“After the Thanksgiving pageant, I’ll be down to one dog.”
“Ma’am—”
Bridget raised her hand. “Stop calling me that. I’m not your grandmother, Dog Officer Joe.”
He took another step backwards. One more and he’d fall down the stairs.
“Sorry, uh, miss. I’m authorized to seize the excess dogs tonight if I need to.” He gestured to the City van parked behind him. “We’ll impound them at Animal Services until you make arrangements.”
All the air came out of Bridget’s lungs all at once in a choking gasp. “No! You can’t touch my dogs.” There was a rolling growl behind her, deep in Beau’s chest.
Officer Moller turned and jumped down the stairs. From the bottom, he asked, “Are you threatening me, miss?”
“That would be one of the dogs you’re thinking of removing,” she said. “Nika, phone, please. I’m calling the real cops.”
Nika slipped through the door and handed over her phone. Then she went down the stairs and approached Office Moller. “Is all this fuss necessary?” she asked. “You can see the dogs are all well behaved. The only one that growled is Bridget’s personal dog and he’s protective.”
“I have my orders to—”
“Investigate, right? And make a judgement call, I’m sure.” Nika looked up at him. “Can’t you just issue a warning and give Bridget time to deal with the situation herself? You’d be upset too if neighbors were complaining just days after you moved in.”
“Well, it would mean—”
“I’m the veterinary assistant to these dogs, and I can speak to their good nature. They barely barked when you knocked. Do you know how rare that is, Officer Joe?”
“They seem nice enough. Except for the big black one. But the bylaw is clear.”
Nika moved around him slowly, and he turned too. “I’m sure you have some flexibility. Especially when Bridget’s never had a single complaint about her dogs in over ten years. Lots of people in Dog Town have more than four dogs, Joe. They come i
nto the vet’s office with six or eight at a time. It’s on record.”
Joe Moller shifted uneasily. He hadn’t prepared for all this. “Maybe they have a kennel license.”
“I doubt that very much. People normally get a vet’s reference for that. I can only remember a few breeders coming in with the form.”
“Then I guess no one’s complained about their dogs.”
Nika persisted. “I know for a fact that people complain to the CCD hotline all the time, especially about barking. So then the owners come into the vet all upset and want us to put their dogs on tranquillizers.”
“Tranquillizers?” Joe’s eyebrows went up.
“We get at least two requests a week, I kid you not. Obviously, we can’t tranquillize all the dogs who bark in Dorset Hills, Joe.”
He looked confused now. “We’re getting off course.”
Nika pressed her case. “I’m just saying that all dogs bark and putting them on medication would send a terrible message to the public about Dorset Hills. Think about the headlines: ‘Dog Town Dogs Doped.’”
Bridget came to stand beside her. “I would never dope my dogs.”
Nika grabbed Bridget’s arm to silence her. “You wouldn’t, but think about all the people who would. I’m in a position to know just how many ill-informed owners would go to extreme measures to keep their dogs quiet… just to keep their dogs.”
“I hate to think that, but you’re probably right,” Bridget said. “I met the mayor yesterday, and it seems like he really cares about appearances and Dorset Hills’ image. So maybe you folks at the CCD need to think this through a little bit more, Joe. It could backfire.”
“Our mission is to keep dogs safe and residents happy,” he said.
“A worthy goal,” Nika said. “I’m just saying if people get scared about losing their dogs, they might do desperate, crazy things. Things that end up on the news.”
“Not me, of course,” Bridget said. “I have full confidence that the City will support upstanding dog owners.” She knelt beside Beau and put an arm around his neck. “Just the thought of seeing his face looking out of a cage…”
“Don’t even say it,” Nika said. “We’d organize a sit-in and invite every newspaper in the country. What was the magazine that did that first story on Dorset Hills? The one that launched it as the dog capital of North America?”
“Luxe and Leisure,” Bridget said. “I keep in touch with the writer. She plans to come for next year’s pageant.”
With every comment, Joe had taken another step back toward the City van. Finally, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to call—”
“It’s getting late,” Nika said. “Let’s deal with this tomorrow when everyone’s fresh. You’ve done what you came to do, which was alert Bridget to a complaint from neighbors.”
“Sullivan Shaw,” Bridget muttered. “That—”
Nika shushed her. “It’s obviously upsetting when you’ve just moved into a new home and find people are complaining. But you’ve given us a lot to think about.” She walked after Joe. “Just so that I understand correctly, Officer, you’re saying that people need a kennel license to keep more than four dogs on the premises.”
“According to municipal bylaws, yes.”
“Then I guess Bridget will need to apply for one.”
“I wouldn’t wait too long,” he said.
Bridget hurried after him. “Are you threatening me, Joe?”
He rushed the last few steps to his van. “Of course not, ma’am.”
Nika finally caught his arm and he slowed, and turned. “Tell us what you mean, Officer.” She looked up at him with her big amber eyes and his expression softened.
“The CCD looks at complaints before issuing a kennel license. Ms. Linsmore is one down already. Red flagged.” He eased his sleeve out of Nika’s grip and climbed into the van.
Bridget held the door so he couldn’t close it. “Wait. I bought this place to have a kennel. To expand. Are you telling me one neighbor can ruin everything I’ve worked for just by calling your hotline?”
“Let go, please.” Joe tugged on the door. “You’ll want to contact the licensing department. I’m just the field officer.”
“What kind of complaints count against me?” Bridget pressed.
“Anything dog-related. Numbers, nuisance, you name it.”
He pulled hard on the door and Bridget held on, her fingers whitening from the effort. “How many, Joe? How many complaints does it take to wreck my chances?”
Finally, he pried off her fingers one by one. He yanked the door closed and shouted through the closed window. “Three strikes and you’re out, ma’am.”
Chapter 10
“Bridget?”
“Bridget?”
“Bridget!”
So many customers were calling her name that Bridget couldn’t figure out who to serve first. She’d been up most of the night worrying and the Boners breakfast crowd had never been so demanding and annoying.
“What’s wrong with people today?” she said to Rachel, grabbing a fresh pot of coffee.
“They’re used to your coddling and you’re neglecting them today,” she said. “Grace has only had one hot water refill. That teabag has plenty left to give.”
Bridget forced a smile, but it felt as if her face might crack under the strain. “I’ll get right on that. At least she tips. Unlike Gerry.”
Rachel’s section filled up slower and yet her tips were usually double Bridget’s. “You’ve backed yourself into a corner, Bee,” she said. “Everyone you’ve ever turned down for a dog wants to sit in your section and make you pay for wounding their ego. And you feel so guilty you overcompensate. It’s a vicious cycle that can only end one way.”
Pouring a couple of inches of coffee into a mug, Bridget ignored the rumblings behind her and downed it in a shot. “What way is that?”
“By promoting yourself to manager and easing Frank into retirement.”
Bridget stared at Rachel, her mouth still hanging open. “What?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
“I haven’t thought about it. I’ve got my hands full as it is.”
“Managing Boners will be less work than what you’re doing now. Hire a couple of new staff.”
The chorus behind them got louder. Grace’s quiet plea somehow pierced the guys’ grumbling.
Bridget held up an index finger to let them know she’d heard. “Frank said he’d leave here in a pine box.”
“No one begrudges him a dramatic exit,” Rachel said. “But until then he can sit in a booth and drink coffee from a bottomless cup.”
Bridget laughed. “No free refills when I’m in charge.”
Rachel hoisted her tray of breakfast specials high and started gliding toward her tables. “That’s the spirit.”
“And no one calls it Boners, either,” Bridget called after her.
“Good luck with that,” Rachel called back.
Bridget filled a teapot with hot water, grabbed another teabag and then hurried over to Grace’s table. “Sorry for the wait, Grace. Fresh teabag on the house.”
Grace dunked the bag twice and pulled it out of the pot. “Thanks. And I’m sorry if Sullivan upset you the other day, Bridget. He just blurts things, sometimes.”
“No worries. And I’m sorry I brought up Chico. I didn’t realize it hadn’t worked out. Chihuahuas are—”
Grace cut her off. “It was best for all concerned.”
“Of course. Guys like Sullivan tend not to like teacup dogs.”
Pouring a teaspoon of skim milk into her pale tea, Grace clattered as she stirred. Then she added a microscopic amount of her sugar substitute and stirred again. “I suppose not.”
She stared up at Bridget with hazel eyes. No wonder Sullivan liked Grace. A frail little thing would activate his inner hero. If he had one.
“Are you two dating or something?” a voice said behind them.
“Oh, Trent
,” Bridget said, as she turned. “There’s enough of me to go around.”
“Well, we’re parched and suffering today, Bee. What’s going on?”
She grabbed the coffee pot out of Rachel’s hand as she passed and then filled Trent’s empty cup. “What do you know about the Canine Corrections Department?”
Trent rolled his eyes. “Cop wannabes. They can’t keep staff because they’re all putting in time till they can become real cops.”
“What’s changed lately? I never knew the CCD to do much except pick up strays.”
“Manager’s getting cocky,” Trent said, furrowing his bushy grey eyebrows. “Cliff Whorley. He’s a retired state trooper with delusions of grandeur, from what I hear. Need me to talk to him?”
“Not at all,” Bridget said. “Just curious.”
“Can you get curious about our empty cups?”
Four off-duty firefighters were grinning when she turned. “Oh, boys, you are way too big for one booth,” she said, hoping flirtation would soothe egos. It always worked for Duff.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” said Ron, the chattiest firefighter, as she poured the last of the coffee into his cup. “You let us know if you need help with the dog cops, Bee.”
By the time she got back to the counter, Bridget’s smile felt more genuine. It faded quickly, however, when she saw the tall, ginger-haired man perched on her usual stool. “What are you doing here, Mike?”
“Sit.” He patted the stool next to him. “I heard about what happened.”
“With the dog cop? Could you believe it? I hope you’re handling it.”
He stared at her. “I’m here to handle you.”
“Me? I got accosted in my home by a dog cop who threatened to take my dogs away.”
“And you threatened to call national media, if his report is correct.” Mike didn’t wait for her response. “I can tell from your expression that it is.”
The Dog Town Collection Page 19