The Dog Town Collection

by Sandy Rideout

  Continuing to play along, Mim took the corkscrew and said, “What would I be scared of?”

  “Scared that every guy is a lying louse like Andrew.”

  “Oh, that.” Mim wound the corkscrew into the bottle. “Maybe. Carver has too many secrets.”

  “Well, you don’t have to marry him. Just have a good time.”

  Mim poured wine into the glasses. “If it went south, there wouldn’t be a fence high enough. And he’d put up a strobe.”

  Ari took a sip and grinned. “At least you’re talking as if it’s a possibility now.”

  “That wine is already going to your head.” Mim took a sip herself. “Look, I refuse to even think about it until I have some answers about George.”

  Her eyes automatically drifted to George’s corner of the kitchen.

  She gasped.

  George’s food and water bowls were gone. The leash that hung on the hook overhead was also gone. Even his plaid dog coat and matching snow boots had disappeared.

  Mim turned quickly to the dog-shaped ceramic jar on the counter that held his food and lifted the top: empty.

  “What’s wrong?” Ari asked.

  “George’s things. They’re all gone.”

  Chapter 12

  Ari, Kyle and Officer Miles Larken sat around the kitchen table while Mim stirred milk on the stove to make hot chocolate. She placed four mugs beside the two wine glasses that sat, still nearly full, on the counter.

  “So,” Officer Larken said, “nothing else is missing?”

  He had an easy smile and bright blue eyes under sandy hair. If it weren’t for the distinct look of ‘cop’ about him, he’d be very attractive. He also had a calm, commanding air. As soon as he arrived, he sent Ari to collect Kyle so that they could sit down together.

  “I don’t think so,” Mim said, placing a mug in front of him and passing one to Ari.

  The police officer glanced around, probably wondering how she could tell, with the mess. Mim was embarrassed, seeing the place through his eyes. She really had let things go. Kyle was just following the example she set.

  “No jewelry, electronics, real valuables?” he asked.

  Mim and Kyle both shook their heads.

  “Those ceramic dog dishes were valuable,” Ari said. “Mim and I made them with our own two hands.”

  “One of kind, are they?” the officer asked.

  “Collector’s items,” Ari confirmed. “Like George, Officer Larken. Also made with my own two hands. Or my own two dogs, in this case.”

  “Call me Miles,” he said.

  Kyle let out something between a snort and giggle. It broke the spell, and Miles seemed to make a deliberate effort to shake off Ari’s spell.

  “There were no signs of forced entry, so whoever took these items had access to the house,” Miles said.

  “No one else has our key,” Mim said.

  “Not a house cleaner?” he pressed.

  Ari gestured to a heap on a spare chair. “I think you know the answer to that.”

  “You’re not helping,” Mim said.

  The officer’s eyes were on Ari again as he asked, “Well, a dog walker then? Or is there a spare key outside? I know parents often do that for their kids.”

  Kyle answered. “There’s a key under that thing out back.”

  “The garden gnome,” Mim said. “Yes.

  They all got up and went out back. The gnome didn’t appear to have been moved. The snow still sat in a puff on its stone head, and when Miles tipped the gnome back, the key was in place. He picked it up and handed it to her, and they filed back inside. This time Miles took the seat right next to Ari, instead of the one opposite.

  “Anyone else you can think of?” he asked.

  “I lost a set of keys recently,” Mim said. “No idea where they went.”

  “Interesting,” Miles and Ari said at once, and their voices overlapped perfectly.

  Kyle muffled a guffaw into his sleeve. Then he jumped, as if he’d been kicked under the table. Ari’s expression was deliberately innocent.

  “Okay,” Miles said. “So we have a missing dog, a card without a ransom request, and now all the dog’s things are gone. It seems like someone wants to keep George. Is he really that special?” Glancing at Ari, he added, “No offence.”

  “None taken,” Ari said. “And to be honest, the answer is no. He’s a great dog, but he’s a four-year-old hybrid. There are hundreds of more valuable dogs than George in this town.”

  “Some people apparently think he’s not great at all,” Mim said. “The neighbor behind us complains about George’s barking, and he told me that Mr. Mowat next door has thrown rocks over the fence.” She turned to Kyle. “Carver Black also said George had nipped Lisa Kawasaki while you were walking him. Is this true?”

  Kyle looked down at his hands. “I wouldn’t call it a nip. He sort of nuzzled her leg. There was a little hole in her pants and she blamed it on George.”

  “Kyle! How could you not tell me that?”

  “I forgot.”

  “Did you also forget he scratched up the Delaneys’ lawn?”

  “He just does that kicking thing after he pees, you know?” Kyle said. “It’s nothing.”

  “How many times?”

  “A couple.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate. “No more than six.”

  “Why would you keep taking him there when you know how fussy Mr. Delaney is about his lawn?” Mim’s voice was shrill.

  “George likes it.” Kyle paused a moment before adding, “He pees sooner if we go there.”

  Ari and Miles both laughed, but Mim sighed. “I can’t believe you didn’t let me know that George is annoying the neighbors.”

  “So,” Miles said, to get the conversation back on track, “George is no prince.”

  “He’s a good dog,” Ari insisted. “But like any dog, he needs leadership.” She directed the comment at Kyle, and he slid lower in his seat. “At any rate, if someone stole him because he’s a nuisance, why would they come and get his things?”

  “Just to give us a scare?” Mim said.

  “Well, he’s obviously safe,” Ari said. “They don’t want ransom, or even a reward.”

  “Yet,” Mim said.

  “I’ll go around the block and talk to people tomorrow,” Miles said. “In the meantime, can you think of anyone else who might have done this? It’s likely someone you know.”

  The thought of someone she knew coming into the house and carefully collecting all of George’s things made Mim shudder. “No,” she said. “The neighbor who thinks she saw George in the park said he was with a tall man in a black parka. That could be anyone.”

  “Think harder,” Miles said. “Is there anyone who’s angry with you? Holding a grudge?”

  Ari turned to Mim. “What about that patient today? The one who thinks you’re killing his wife?”

  Miles’ eyebrows shot up, and Mim quickly explained. “It’s not Bill Hodgson. He’s upset, but I’m sure he wouldn’t do this. Besides, he barely leaves Peg’s side.”

  “I’ll speak to him anyway.”

  “Don’t upset Peg, please. Bill’s so volatile, and their life is already hard enough.”

  “I’ll be discreet,” Miles said, and turned to Kyle. “How about you? Anyone who might want to do this as a prank?”

  Mim expected a quick shake of the head, but Kyle didn’t respond. Instead, he picked at a loose thread on the tablecloth. “Kyle?” she prodded. “What’s going on?”

  Without looking up, he said, “There’s a kid at school who hates me.”

  “How could anyone hate you?” Ari said.

  “Tell us about it,” Miles said.

  Kyle raised his eyes to Miles. “He thinks I stole his girlfriend.”

  Mim was speechless. Kyle had never shown much interest in girls, let alone evidence of being a player.

  “Well?” Miles asked. “Did you?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Kyle said. “She just liked me and broke
up with the guy.”

  “And then?” Miles prompted.

  “We hung out a few times. That’s all.”

  “Hung out where?” Mim said.

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “Just hung out.”

  Officer Miles gave Mim a look as if to say, ‘I’m doing the interrogating here,’ and continued. “What happened after that, Kyle?”

  “She broke up with me after three weeks.” Kyle’s voice had tightened. “She likes someone else now.”

  “Aw, Kyle, I’m sorry,” Ari said. “We’ve all been there. Right, Miles?”

  Miles smiled. “More times than I care to mention. Tell me about the former boyfriend.”

  “He blames me. Broke my lock and left stuff in my locker. A rotten fish. Dog sh—, er poop. And he’s pushed me a couple of times.”

  Mim gasped again. “Have you told a teacher?”

  Kyle looked up. “That would just make it worse.”

  “But he’s bullying you. I’m going to—”

  “Don’t. Please.” He met her eyes. “He’ll stop when he finds out she’s into someone else now.”

  Reaching out, Mim grabbed Kyle’s hand. He only allowed it for a second before shoving his hands under the table. The weight in her stomach grew as she realized how out of touch with her son she’d become. She had no idea he’d had his first love, his first heartbreak, and his first episode of bullying. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said.

  “I’ll need to have a word with this guy, Kyle,” Miles said. “I’d be very surprised if you experienced any backlash from that discussion.”

  Mim slumped in her seat, relieved. She shoved a bag of marshmallows at Kyle and he looked at her as if she were crazy. Not so long ago, he’d refused to drink hot chocolate without them.

  Obviously trying to shift her focus, Kyle said, “What about Carver, Mom? You thought he stole George. You yelled at him.”

  Now it was Mim’s turn to squirm under Miles’ gaze. “I didn’t yell. But I did take issue with his complaints about George, which unfortunately turned out to be true.”

  “His house checked out, though,” Ari offered. “Mim had a look around.”

  Kyle eyed his mom curiously. “You looked around Carver’s house? How did that happen?”

  As briefly as possible, Mim described her adventure. Kyle leaned both elbows on the table, hanging on every word. “You climbed into his yard… like trespassing.”

  She glared at him. “I was just looking for my dog. The one you let piss off the neighborhood.”

  “Did Carver seem concerned about the trespassing?” Miles asked.

  Ari answered for Mim. “Not at all. I think he was flattered. Anyway, Carver didn’t steal George.”

  “He’s an okay guy,” Kyle said. “From what I can tell.”

  “It may seem that way,” Mim said. “But I found one of George’s tags in his yard.”

  Miles jotted that down and then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to bring this up, but is there any way your ex-husband might be behind this?”

  “I highly doubt that,” Mim said, glancing quickly at Kyle, who went back to picking threads off the table cloth. “I haven’t heard from Andrew in years—don’t even know where he is.”

  “How about you, Kyle?” Miles asked.

  Kyle shook his head in silence.

  “Well, I’ll see what I can find out,” Miles said, closing his notepad. “Sounds like I have some spadework, but at least we’ve got some leads. I may need to contact all of you with more questions.”

  He was looking at Ari as he said it, and she reached into her purse for a business card. “Of course,” she said. “Happy to help.”

  They all walked Miles to the door, and as he passed through the family room, he said, “Beautiful tree. One of the nicest I’ve seen.”

  “She really got lucky this year,” Ari said.

  “Wait!” Mim stooped beside the tree and patted around behind it. Then she rubbed her eyes, hoping to be wrong about what she didn’t see. Finally she said, “George’s gifts are gone.”

  Miles took out his notepad and made an additional note.

  Patting Mim’s shoulder, Ari said, “We’ll buy more tomorrow.”

  “We won’t need them.” Kyle’s voice seemed drained of all life. “He won’t be back by Christmas.”

  The comment cut Mim to the heart, and she couldn’t speak.

  Ari jumped in. “Then we’ll have Christmas again when George does come home.”

  Miles continued on to the door with Ari. “Christmas twice… I’m surprised City Council hasn’t already legislated that.”

  Chapter 13

  Mim slipped out early on Saturday morning with Jezebel, happy that Kyle had agreed, under protest, to spend the night with a friend. Even with the locks changed and a loaner dog, she didn’t feel entirely safe in her home at the moment. George’s disappearance had already been upsetting, but now it had taken a disturbing turn. If she had a stalker, he might want more than just George.

  She had been up half the night worrying and needed some fresh air to clear her head before work. A tired, confused nurse was a liability.

  In the park, she walked briskly to the swing set, keeping a close eye on Jezebel’s posture. Despite her affectionate personality, Jez was alert and protective. Ari said she’d take an unneutered female as a guard dog any day of the week.

  The pre-dawn chill sank deep into her bones. It was the kind of cold that warned you of long months ahead. Winter in Dorset Hills was no joke, and Christmas was the last laugh.

  Easing onto a swing, she dropped the leash and pushed off. How could life have changed so much in just a few days? She’d give anything to rewind to the time before George went missing and all she had to worry about was her son giving her the cold shoulder. Yet here she was, watching thin, pale rays of sun crawl gingerly over the horizon and staking out a dognapper.

  Jezebel’s ears pricked. Lights appeared at the park’s less popular entrance. The beams bounced across the park as the vehicle bumped up on the curb. The lights were high. It had to be a truck.

  Heart pounding, Mim jumped off the swing and hurried across the snow-covered grass towards the entrance. She heard the truck’s door open and the breath that had been streaming out of her mouth stopped for a second.

  Jezebel pulled ahead of her and then stopped, blocking Mim’s path. The dog’s hackles rose and she began barking fiercely.

  Across the park the truck’s door slammed. It lurched into reverse and then paused for a moment so that headlights shone into the park. Mim stood frozen in the twin beams. Then the vehicle made an abrupt three-point turn before racing off. When it careened around a corner, Mim could see it was a pickup truck, most likely silver.

  She shook off her mitten and let it fall onto the snow to claw her phone out of her pocket. Stabbing at the numbers, she called the first person who came to mind.

  When the next truck pulled in, Mim was jogging back and forth across the snow, praying she didn’t slip and break her leg on top of everything else.

  The door opened and there was a soft thud as boots hit the ground. Leaving the door open, someone in a bulky parka crossed in front of the lights. The warning buzzer pinged inside.

  Mim hurried toward the hooded figure and a hand came out to take hers. Middle finger: orange.

  “It’s way too cold to have a dog out for so long,” Cori said, patting Jezebel. “Are you in the business of freezing dogs?”

  “Sure. Healing people and killing dogs,” Mim said. “It’s a good balance.”

  A small smile appeared over Cori’s scarf. “Glad your sense of humor hasn’t fled the scene with the dognapper.”

  “I don’t know for sure that’s who it was. But it was awfully suspicious. The truck just beat it when the driver heard Jezebel barking.”

  A lime-green van bumped up and over the curb. The driver’s door opened and Bridget Linsmore hopped out. She was wearing red-and-white flannel pajamas under her parka and tucked into big boots. Even fr
om a few yards away, Mim could see the candy-cane print.

  “Took you long enough,” Cori said to her friend.

  “Excuse me for not getting another speeding ticket,” Bridget said.

  She swooped in for a hug, and when Cori ducked, Bridget grabbed Mim.

  “Take my used hug,” Cori said, grinning now.

  “It wasn’t used, just spurned.” Bridget pulled on Mim’s sleeve. “Why don’t we talk in the van? It’s too cold to—”

  “Have a dog out. I know.” Mim got into the back seat and draped one arm around Jezebel. “Thanks for coming, you guys.”

  Peering around the passenger seat, Cori shrugged. “It’s what we do. Did you get a color on the truck?”

  “I’m guessing silver,” Mim said. “It was light but not white.”

  From the driver’s seat, Bridget turned her eyes from Mim to Cori. “Huh.”

  “What?” Bridget asked. “Do you know something?”

  Cori shrugged again. “Friends of the Mafia reported seeing a dog that looked like George riding in a silver truck a couple of times. A small red dog, they said.”

  “Apricot,” Mim said. “George is apricot, not red.”

  “Close enough to raise eyebrows,” Cori said.

  “There must be dozens of dogs like George riding around in silver trucks in Dog Town,” Mim said.

  “Our informants are pretty reliable,” Cori said. “Let’s run with it for a moment. Do you know anyone with a silver truck who may have taken George?”

  Mim’s mouth worked for a second before the name dropped out. “Carver Black. He’s the neighbor I mentioned. The one who complains about George’s barking.”

  “Carver Black?” Bridget asked. “That’s the carpenter who helped renovate my barn last month. Seemed like a stand-up guy. Right, Cori?”

  “Seemed like. But people aren’t always as they seem, right?”

  “No. No, they are not.” There was a heaviness in Bridget’s voice. “But I really didn’t get a criminal vibe off Carver. Beau liked him.”

  “And Beau’s always right,” Cori said. “Like about Sullivan.”

  Bridget grinned. “A dog’s allowed to change his mind. I did.”