by Donna Doyle
“It is,” she replied with a smile, hoping that maybe this man could point her in the right direction. “I’m with the Curly Bay Pet Hotel and Rescue. I’m trying to find a new home for him, but I’m afraid he’s got a few issues to work through.”
“I’m Officer Holland, Don Holland,” he said with a smile and a lift of his eyebrow as he shook her hand. “I saw you walk in, and I wanted to warn you about that dog.”
Courtney looked down at the shepherd, who still hadn’t detached himself from her side. “Warn me? I mean, he did a lot of chewing last night, but he hasn’t shown any signs of being aggressive.”
Officer Holland looked skeptical. “Maybe not per se, but he’s been acting strange for quite some time.”
This was news to Courtney. “You mean, even before Officer Cheatham’s death?”
Holland gestured with his head toward the foyer, and she followed him there. Whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t want anyone else to overhear.
Holland put one hand against the wall and propped himself in front of her as he spoke. “Cheatham and I used to work pretty closely together. He was on the drug task force that I’ve been leading to keep Curly Bay as safe as possible. Cheatham used Gunnar to sniff out the contraband, and he was darn good at it, too. They accomplished a lot. But then the dog started acting weird.”
“What kind of weird?” Most of the dogs that came to them didn’t have a past they could track down. Courtney hoped this would provide some clues that would really help Gunnar.
Officer Holland sighed. “On the last case that we worked together, the dog didn’t act like he wanted to have anything to do with his job. He was acting sort of confused, like he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do anymore. I even asked Cheatham about it. My thought was that it could be some sort of nervous disorder. You know how purebred dogs have issues.”
“Right.” It was true that many purebred lines had issues after being bred for certain characteristics time after time, but Courtney could only think of German Shepherds having problems with hip dysplasia. She made a mental note to look it up later.
“Anyway, I did mention it to Cheatham. He was an old softie, and he didn’t want to do anything about it. He insisted everything was fine. I figured it was up to him, considering the dog’s performance would affect his own when it came to drug busts. I guess I should’ve pressed him a little harder than that.” Holland straightened, put his hands in his pockets, and sighed as he studied the floor.
“What do you mean?” Courtney knew the dog had some problems. That was the whole reason she was here, but Officer Holland was making her nervous.
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was coming out into the foyer. “I’m surprised you didn’t know already. I mean, if you’ve got the dog in your custody then it’s only fair to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” she pressed.
“Some have speculated that the dog might’ve had something to do with Cheatham’s death. There were some scratches and bruises on the body that certainly looked as though they’d come from Gunnar. Now, I wouldn’t have even considered that six months ago, but given the way the dog was acting, I’m inclined to wonder.” He scratched his chin speculatively.
Courtney looked down at Gunnar, who was pulling at the leash to get to the front door. “How do you know so much about Cheatham’s death.”
“Like I said, we worked together all the time. I wanted to know exactly what’d happened to my brave colleague, and so I asked the coroner about it. He assured me it was a heart attack brought about by stress and poor health. It was tragic, but at least that closed the case.”
Looking at the dog, Courtney couldn’t believe he’d have anything to do with injuring or killing anyone, at least not on purpose. “Well, Detective Fletcher gave me the number for Shawn Ryder. I’m hoping he can help me out with finding this guy a new home.”
“Fletcher, huh?” Don raised one eyebrow and smirked a little. “Now there’s an old dog. He needs a handler of his own, if you ask me.”
The last thing Courtney had come to the station for was to get involved in office politics. “Thanks for your help, Officer Holland.”
“Please,” he said, flashing his brilliantly white teeth once again, “call me Don.”
“Thank you for your help, Don. Gunnar and I have an appointment to get to.” As soon as she was back out in the parking lot, the dog transformed. He’d been nervous and shaky inside the police headquarters, but he jumped in her car and looked expectantly at the window, waiting for her to roll it down.
“You really don’t like being at your old workplace, do you?” she asked curiously as they drove to the vet’s office.
Courtney carefully watched for signs of nervousness as she brought Gunnar into the vet’s and checked in. He was curious and watchful, but he didn’t cling to her the way he had before. He allowed Dr. Moulton to look him over without a struggle as Courtney relayed what he’d been through.
“Poor sweet fella,” she said as she gave him a treat from the jar on the counter. “He looks incredibly healthy, and I don’t see any signs of a medical issue that could be causing his problems. I’d say it’s separation anxiety.”
That didn’t surprise Courtney at all, but it made her feel worse in a way. “He’s missing Officer Cheatham.”
“Most likely. That, plus being moved to a shelter. It’s going to be hard on him, and it’ll be a little tougher to get him over it since he’s not with a permanent family. Even so, I’d suggest doing as much as you can for him. Don’t make it a big deal when you show up or when you leave. Give him some sort of toy that will keep him occupied for a long period of time when nobody is going to be with him. There are all sorts of interactive puzzle toys for dogs these days. It might also help to see if there’s a special toy he had to leave behind when his owner died, or maybe even a piece of his clothing. Do you have any way of getting hold of someone in his owner’s family?”
Courtney bit her lip. Everything with Gunnar seemed to be a dead end so far, but that didn’t mean she was ready to give up. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter Three
“Have you thought about creating a foster program for the shelter?” Courtney asked Ms. O’Donnell later that afternoon. “Having Gunnar here has made me think about it quite a bit. He would do much better if he were in a home instead of a rescue, no matter how nice it is.”
The owner made a face, but then she sighed with sympathy. “I know, and I have thought about it. The fact is, I just really don’t know how to go about getting started. I’m sure there are some sort of insurance issues we’d have to work out, not to mention getting a good background check done on those who want to become fosters.”
“I’m sure we could get it figured out with a little bit of research,” Courtney offered. She sat down in her desk chair, reaching down to skim her fingertips over Gunnar’s back. He was lying in the back corner of her office, which had quickly turned into his favorite spot in the building. It was quiet and peaceful, and the dog seemed to have taken a liking to Courtney.
“Then I’ll leave that in your capable hands,” Ms. O’Donnell said with a smile. “You just let me know what you need.”
When her boss had turned to go talk to Dora over in the pet hotel and spa, Courtney shook her head. Ms. O’Donnell had very good intentions, but she wasn’t the best person to work for. Still, Courtney knew she was making a difference for the animals at the shelter, and she was going to do everything she could to keep making that happen. “You know what this means, Gunnar?”
The dog looked up expectantly at the sound of his name.
“You get to the be the first experimental foster pup at the Curly Bay Pet Hotel and Rescue. Don’t worry, though. You’re going to stay with me tonight. I don’t have a big fancy house or even much of a yard, but I think you’ll like it a lot better than staying here.”
Truth be told, Courtney was excited to bring Gunnar to her place. “I’ve been rattling around inside this apartment eve
r since I moved here,” she told her new house guest as she drove home an hour later. “I was always running around and busy when I lived in the city. I worked late, and there was always some appointment or lunch or dinner I needed to get to. I thought I liked all that hustle and bustle, but once I got to Curly Bay I realized how nice small-town living could be. Still, I could use some company. What’s this?”
She slowly pulled into her driveway, noting that the neighbors had their garage door open. Several teenagers were unloading music equipment from a van, which included some very large speakers. That didn’t speak to the peace and quiet she’d just been boasting about.
“I promise I didn’t know the neighbor’s kid has a band,” she said to Gunnar over the ensuing racket that started as she cooked dinner. The walls were thumping with the sound, and neither one of them were enjoying it. Gunnar paced the apartment, pausing to look in every room even if he’d already looked in it before.
She barely heard the phone ring over the noise. “Hey, Mom!”
“Don’t shout at me, dear! I can hear you just fine, as well as whatever hullabaloo you’ve got going on. Are you at a concert or something?”
“No, it’s just the neighbors,” she groused. “I guess they have a garage band, and—oh. Good. They’ve stopped.” Courtney closed her eyes, enjoying the silence. “I thought that was going to go on forever. They keep playing the same song over and over, and they always mess up at the same part. Oh, no!” The music started right back up again.
“You should call your landlady,” Mrs. Cain advised. “I’m sure there’s some sort of rule against that.”
“Yeah, I’ll check.” She hung up with her mother and dialed Mrs. Peabody. “I hate to bother you, but my neighbors are playing some very loud music. I don’t know them very well, so I don’t want to go over there. But I’m sure you can hear them.” Whether it was through the phone or down the street at her house, Courtney was sure the landlady hadn’t missed what was happening.
“At least they pay their rent on time,” Mrs. Peabody said snidely. “If I can come to your place to pick up the money you owe me, then I’ll be happy to do something about your little problem.”
“Oh.” Courtney pressed her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up in everything at work that I haven’t had a chance to call the bank. I’ll get it taken care of as soon as possible.” She glanced at her purse. The checkbook for her new account was in there, and she should be able to use it to pay the rent. But that would mean Mrs. Peabody coming to her place, and that would also mean getting caught with a dog on the premises. “Sorry for disturbing you.”
“I guess that’s all we can really do, buddy,” she said to Gunnar, who looked just as unhappy here as he did in his kennel. “They can’t carry on like that all night, at least. I’m sure there are noise ordinances in Curly Bay. I just wish I knew what they were.”
After a quick dinner, Courtney pulled out her laptop. She sat down on the living room floor so Gunnar could curl up next to her. First, she visited the city website and discovered the impromptu concert would have to shut down by nine no matter what Mrs. Peabody thought about it. With that information, she moved on to trying to discover more about Gunnar.
“Ah, here we go.” Courtney was always impressed by just how much information she could find online. It sometimes made her wonder what people could discover about her, but since it was serving her purpose for the moment, she wasn’t going to worry about it. “Looks like Officer Cheatham had several divorce court dates, according to the courthouse website. I’ll just see what I can find on his ex-wife. Maybe she’ll know something about you, or even want to take you.” The prospect was exciting for Courtney, since she knew how badly Gunnar needed a home.
It was easy to find Mrs. Carolyn Cheatham through social media, although Courtney wasn’t sure how receptive she’d be to a stranger contacting her online. She knew that even though millions of people worldwide were active online, some set up accounts and hardly ever used them. “Okay. I’ve sent her a message. All we can do is wait and see if she says anything back. She might not, so don’t get your hopes up. It’s just one thing we’re trying.”
Gunnar rested his head on her knee and looked up at her with melted chocolate eyes.
“You’re killing me, you know that? My heart is literally breaking as we speak, and yet you just keep piling it on.” She grinned as she sunk her fingers into his thick coat.
Her laptop dinged, indicating she had a new message. To Courtney’s surprise, it was a response from Carolyn. She messaged back and forth with the woman for several minutes before turning back to Gunnar. “Looks like we’re going to meet her first thing tomorrow morning!”
Courtney’s heart was light the next morning. To her relief, the band next door had stopped playing shortly after nine, which meant she didn’t need to deal with the police nor the landlady. Gunnar had paced a few times during the night when he got restless, but he hadn’t destroyed any furniture or had an accident in the house. A few hours before her alarm went off, he’d even dared to jump up onto the mattress and sleep at the foot of the bed.
“Did you know you snore?” she asked him playfully as they drove down a shady suburban street. “Loudly, too. Probably not loud enough to wake up the neighbors, unfortunately.”
Gunnar panted happily as he looked out the window.
Checking the house numbers, Courtney slowed down. She was arriving early, figuring it would give her a moment to catch up on a few emails. Since she had Gunnar in tow, it wouldn’t do to stay at her place any longer than she had to, in case Mrs. Peabody came by.
“Oh, this can’t be right.” Courtney braked gently and stopped several houses away, hoping she didn’t have the address right. A squad car was sitting in Carolyn’s driveway. Her heart clenched, hoping this didn’t mean something horrid had happened to the woman since last night.
The front door of the home opened, and Detective Fletcher walked out. He was dressed for work, smiling at the woman next to him, and holding her hand. They exchanged a few words on the porch before he got in the squad car and drove away.
Courtney blinked, wondering what she’d just seen. Why was Detective Fletcher there? It certainly didn’t look as though he was there on business, unless most detectives held hands with those who needed their help. It wasn’t even eight in the morning, yet. Had he been there all night?
She tried to brush it off, knowing Detective Fletcher was a married man. “This is no time to be getting suspicious,” she reminded herself. “Fletcher is an interesting character, but he wouldn’t do something like that. I’m sure there’s some reasonable explanation. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know what it is, since I’m sure not going to ask either one of them. I can’t exactly tell them I was sitting in my car down the street, spying on them.” She looked to Gunnar, who was watching her attentively. “Is this what it’s like to have a dog? Do people always just talk to you like this?”
The dog turned away to watch a squirrel skitter across the street.
“Some listener you are.” But she smiled and gave him a pat. “You’re actually pretty great. I think with a little time and maybe some help from Carolyn, you’ll do just fine. If my circumstances were different, I might just adopt you myself.”
After waiting a few minutes to make sure Detective Fletcher was long gone and Carolyn would have no reason to suspect Courtney had been spying on her, she pulled up into the driveway.
Chapter Four
Carolyn Cheatham answered the door. Her brilliant red hair was carefully styled in a flamboyant bob. With her pert nose and catlike eyes, she was a beautiful woman. Guessing her age based on Officer Cheatham’s, Courtney had to wonder what sort of skincare routine she was doing, because she was aging wonderfully.
“Hi, I’m Courtney Cain. We talked online last night.”
The woman smiled pleasantly. “Of course, dear. Why don’t you come in for a moment, and we’ll talk before we head over to Wa
lter’s place? I have a few errands to run later on, but I’ve got a little time. And I have to say, I’m very curious as to exactly what it is you need from me.”
Courtney followed her into a rather large living room. Everything was white or close to it, from the furniture to the carpet to the drapes. It was a steep contrast to Carolyn and her colorful outfit. The open floorplan showed a peek into the kitchen, which was far nicer than even what Courtney had when she’d lived in the city.
Gunnar came in with her, looking uncertain. She watched him for any clues, whether it be stress at being in a new place or complete joy at seeing Carolyn. All she got was a slight wag of the tail.
“I know. It’s a little hard to communicate everything online, even though that’s what people do these days. I’ll just start from the top.” Courtney sat down on the sofa Carolyn indicated and related how she’d come to have Gunnar at her side. “Basically,” she concluded, “this poor dog needs help. I’ve been given the number of a trainer who works with police dogs, but I can’t get hold of him. The vet suggested there might be a toy that Gunnar’s missing that would make him feel better, or maybe a piece of Officer Cheatham’s clothing.”
She looked like a hard woman, and there was certainly no evidence of any pets at her place, but Carolyn knelt down in her bright purple skirt suit and held her hand out for Gunnar to sniff. “Hey, big boy. Do you remember me at all?”
Gunnar sniffed her hand and gave her the tiniest thump of the tip of his tail, but he made no move to leave Courtney’s side.
Carolyn just stood up and smiled. “Yes, that seems about right. Gunnar and I were never particularly close. He was Walter’s dog, through and through. I never begrudged either one of them that. It was best they had each other, particularly since Walter and I spent the last twenty years arguing with each other. You know how it is, dear. You meet a man that you think is just perfect for you, but eventually you realize just how different you really are.”