Dog Gone And Dead

by Colleen Mooney

  As soon as I entered the master suite from the bathroom, Jiff said, “Out with it. What do you have?”

  “How do you know I have something?”

  “Because you have been fidgeting with something in your pocketbook since we left the dock. You keep checking to make sure it’s still there and you’ve kept it in your lap all through dinner,” he said. “I’m usually the one looking out for the whereabouts of your pocketbook when we go out.”

  The only two people in the world who still called a ladies’ purse a pocketbook were Jiff and my Dad.

  “I didn’t want to tell you at dinner and spoil such a beautiful evening we were having. I was going to tell you when we got back… and after, you know… after… later, after we got back here.”

  “Well, we’re back. What do you have that’s got you so nervous?”

  “I really don’t know what I have. I didn’t open it. I saw Rascal kept scratching at his collar when I went down to get more drinks on Daniel’s boat, so I took it off him to adjust it. That’s when I found a sleeve of something sewn on the inside of it,” I said. showing him what I had in my purse all evening. “I thought we should see what it is together.”

  “I can’t believe you kept this from me all evening,” he said and took the sleeve from me to look at. He rolled it between his fingers moving what was inside back and forth.

  “You should be glad I found it and took it off his collar, whatever it is. What if those guys got him, or what if whatever it is shouldn’t get wet? After all, Rascal just went for a swim,” I said.

  “Good point,” he said. “It’s probably best if we didn’t drag Daniel into this since he wants to leave tomorrow.”

  “That’s what I was thinking and why I waited until we were alone to show you. How well do you know Daniel?” I asked.

  “I’ve known him since law school. We were in the same classes and a study group together which was the sum total of my social life back then. We weren’t, aren’t, close friends. I’d bump into him at the courthouse once in a while after we were admitted to the Bar,” Jiff said and looked up at me. “Why do you ask that?”

  “I’m not sure why. I need to think about it some more,” I said.

  “C’mon Brandy, let’s see what was inside Rascal’s collar,” Jiff said.

  Chapter Five

  After finding scissors and cutting one end of the thread loose on the sleeve, one end of the strip opened and out fell four flash drives. All that was marked on them was the number one through four.

  “We need a computer to see what’s on them,” Jiff said.

  “I didn’t bring my laptop,” I said. “I usually drag it along everywhere I go and never use it. Now that I need it, I don’t have it.”

  “I didn’t bring mine either,” Jiff said.

  “Wow, you really planned for us to disconnect from the grid for the whole weekend, didn’t you?” I said. “No laptop… impressive. So, how are we going to find out what’s on these?” I picked up one of the drives turning it over and inspecting it. I said it more to myself than a verbal question.

  “When we go back to Daniel’s yacht we could take a look at them on his computer,” Jiff said.

  “Then we’re involving Daniel and we don’t know how much is on these drives, or even what it is. It could take time,” I said looking at them closely. There were no markings on them other than the numbers one through four.

  “Or we could call Beach Patrol, tell him what we found and ask him to bring his computer here to see what’s on these,” Jiff said.

  “If that guy is working on some case here, he’s gonna take them, and not let us see what’s on any of it,” I said. “He’s so rude and unfriendly, he might even arrest us for having them. You heard what Daniel said about him calling us about Rascal.”

  “They could be encrypted and take a while to figure out.” Jiff said. “If they are, then we will need Mike to see what’s on them.”

  “Look, as soon as he hears that we found these, we’re out,” I said and crawled onto Jiff’s lap facing him. It didn’t take much investigating on his part to see I had nothing on under my robe.

  “Let’s go to bed, we have all day tomorrow to work on finding a computer,” he said.

  The alarm clock said five a.m. Daniel was already in the kitchen trying to make coffee quietly, but the inviting smell came wafting in like a bugle blowing revelry to me. I also pop awake when the sun comes up. Light was coming in through the windows. Jiff, on the other hand, was still sleeping like he had been drugged. He had pulled a pillow over his face to block out the light. The sun coming in from the sliding glass doors that lead to the balcony off of our bedroom lit up the room like Hollywood, yet he slept on.

  Slipping into some shorts and a T-shirt, I quietly left and closed the bedroom door. A cup of steaming black coffee sat next to Daniel while he looked and scrolled through his cell phone.

  “Well, even if it is a Sunday, I’m glad to see another early riser like myself,” I said. “One who even makes coffee!”

  “Where’s Jiff? Is he awake?” Daniel asked.

  “Not quite. What time did you want to get to the marina?” I asked.

  “Thirty minutes ago,” he said and smiled. “Take your time but see if you can get him going. My side where that goofball kicked me hurts more this morning than it did last night. I’m not moving so fast.”

  “It hurts more this morning because you had the benefit of several medicinal beers last night,” I said. “I’ll bring him a cup of coffee. The smell of this should get him going.”

  I went back to our bedroom and Jiff was sitting up in bed, not really awake. He was thinking about it, I could tell.

  “I heard you two in the kitchen,” he mumbled.

  “Sorry, we were trying to be quiet. I brought you some coffee if that will help.” I handed the mug to him. Jiff sat there holding it with his eyes closed.

  “C’mon, Daniel can’t drive himself to his boat and get the car back to us,” I said.

  “Tell him to call Uber,” Jiff said.

  “You don’t mean that. Look at how nice an evening we had with him until the gangsters showed up. We can’t ask him to call Uber,” I said. “Besides, what if they’re waiting for him back at the marina?”

  “Another reason he should call Uber. He found the dog and brought it to his boat,” Jiff said. “We’re helping him out by taking the dog off his boat, and off his hands.”

  “Where’s the dog?” I asked suddenly and ran back to the kitchen. “Daniel, where’s Rascal?”

  “I tried to take him for a walk when I got up but he didn’t want to get out of bed. He’s still sleeping in my room,” he said.

  “Well, we’ll walk him when we leave unless he gets up before then. I don’t have any dog food here for him so we’ll have to get him some on our way home,” I said.

  “Give him cereal or eggs. That’s what I fed him and he liked it,” Daniel said.

  “That’s because he was probably starving from not eating all day. This breed loves food, so they will eat just about anything, even stuff that’s not good for them.”

  “So, tell me. How did you two get together?” Daniel asked changing the subject.

  “How well do you know him?” I asked changing it back on him.

  “We met in a law school study group. We didn’t know each other from high school or from the same neighborhood. We both made law review so often saw each other at the same functions but we really didn’t socialize. He’s a smart guy,” Daniel said.

  “Yes, he’s smart, but I’m wondering what type of girls he dated?”

  “I never saw him with a date during law school. Girls seemed interested in him, he’s good looking, but I don’t think I ever saw him with anyone, now that I think about it. My take on him is he didn’t suffer the kind of gal that was forward or threw herself at him. So how did you two meet?”

  “At a Mardi Gras parade. He stopped in the middle of Lee Circle with the men’s marching group he was with an
d looked at me. I left who I was standing with, walked right up to him and kissed him. He never said a word to me until the police started to move him along, then he asked me to meet him at the end of the parade,” I said.

  “I’m guessing you met him at the end of that parade?” Daniel asked smiling.

  “Yes, I found him after the parade without even knowing his name,” I said. I really didn’t want to get into how I went to meet him after the parade, watched him get shot, then whisked off in an ambulance and the adventure that followed. Daniel didn’t need to know all of it, how I found him after that kiss, and the shooting. “You know we both have a dog like Rascal. Jiff said he saw me when I brought a rescue to his doorman in his building. He saw me before I ever saw him.”

  “Uh huh,” was all Daniel said. “Let’s see if we can get Rip Van Winkle and his dog, Rascal Van Winkle, up and at ’em.”

  Jiff was standing in the bedroom, dressed in khaki shorts with a belt, a white polo shirt, and Sperry topsiders. He still held the full mug of coffee. I wondered if he ever put it down to get dressed. Rascal had moved from Daniel’s room to the warm spot where Jiff had been sitting.

  “C’mon you two,” I said. “Time to go and get this guy back to his boat so he can shove off and we can go to work.”

  Chapter Six

  Everything at the marina looked calm and quiet when we pulled up but I got that creepy-crawly feeling all over my skin again. Something was off. Jiff and I decided to leave Rascal at the condo in case we ran into the same guys. If they didn’t see the dog, they might not bother us since last night was dark and we didn’t think they got a good look at us.

  There was a young woman, thirty-something, waiting on the pier near Daniel’s sailboat. She had that long, thin super model look about her with shoulder length brunette hair. Everything about her screamed high maintenance. As we approached, I could see she had been crying. Her eyes were red, and she held a tissue crumbled up in the palm of her hand. Even with red eyes she was still glamourous, and I’d kill to know what kind of makeup she used that didn’t smear or smudge.

  “Excuse me,” she said when she saw us heading for the boat. “Are you the people who found Rascal?”

  The three of us just looked at each other and said nothing. When I looked at her, I realized she looked very much like the woman we found dead on the beach yesterday morning.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “I’m, Rascal’s owner. My name is,” she dabbed at her eyes and cleared her throat. “Ashley Westlake. Rascal was really my sister’s dog. Her name was Abigale Westlake… Abby, we called her Abby.”

  “Take your time,” Daniel said, walking over to stand closer to her. He put his hand on her shoulder.

  “I called the police to report my sister and her dog missing. I spoke to an officer who answered the phone and he said he worked the scene where my sister was found. He told me two people were trying to find Rascal to keep him safe. Then he told me someone called in a mugging here last night. He said the muggers were trying to steal a dog named Rascal. I knew it had to be… my sister’s dog.”

  “Why are you so sure?” I asked. She seemed to choose her words carefully when she spoke.

  “Because not many people would send someone to mug you to get her dog back. That would be my sister’s ex-husband. She is… sorry, she was… recently divorced. The ex-husband she recently divorced put all their money in offshore accounts so he wouldn’t have to give her anything in a settlement,” she said. She started dabbing at her eyes with the balled-up tissue. “She drove here from New York with the dog two days ago. Rascal and her clothes are all she left with.”

  “Well, if you can prove in some way, it was your sister’s dog, I’d be happy to give him to you.” I said.

  “Oh, no, it’s not that. I just want to make sure he gets to a safe place and a good home. You look like nice people. My sister drove here with no job, and no place to stay. She couldn’t afford to take care of Rascal but she was never going to leave him with her ex. He was abusive to her, and she was sure he would hurt or kill the dog just to make her more miserable. She wanted to get as far away from him as possible and then get Rascal to a rescue group so he could never get his hands on the little guy.”

  “You’re in luck,” Daniel said nodding toward me. “This gal runs a rescue group, and she lives in New Orleans. She’s just here on vacation. She’ll get Rascal as far away from here as possible. You know, I’m really the one who found him…”

  I cut Daniel off before he started to make out he was the hero and tried to get her phone number.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep your sister’s dog?” I asked. Some people wanted to keep a pet as a last connection to a loved one. I got a lot of dogs in rescue whose owners couldn’t wait to get rid of their spouse’s dog or dogs. One man called me hours after his wife died and he wanted to bring me her two Schnauzers right then and there. “I’m guessing the police told you what happened to her?” I asked.

  “Yes. I had to ID her late yesterday afternoon. Her ex-husband killed her or had her killed. I know he did. He’s a ruthless man,” she said and started crying again. Daniel moved a tad closer and put his arm around her. “I can’t keep the dog,” she continued. “I travel for work and I really don’t have the money to hire someone to watch him when I’m gone.”

  “I have to ask, but does your sister’s husband have any claim on the dog? Is he a joint owner or was he the owner before your sister?” I asked.

  “No. My sister bought that dog over three years ago. I don’t want to have to deal with her ex if he thinks he should get the dog back,” she said She tried to unfold and refold the tissue which was way past the point of being useful.

  “He has a microchip in him. It’s registered to my sister… Abby. She’s had Rascal even before they got married. They were together only two years when she suspected he was cheating on her. Over the last year she caught him with young girls, really young girls,” she said and then added, “more than once.”

  “Come aboard and we’ll write up a paper for you to sign surrendering him to my rescue. I just hope your sister didn’t add her ex to the registration,” I said. “Otherwise we can’t have the chip moved into our name. When I call the company to do it, they will call your sister’s ex and tell him where the dog is.”

  “My sister was worried about that. When she got here, to Florida, to my house two days ago, she called and added my name to Rascal’s microchip registration so only I could make changes if anything happened to her. At that time, she checked with the company and his name was never on it. I guess she had a premonition,” Ashley said looking down at her perfectly polished hands that were still molesting the tissue. “That same day we went to an attorney, and she made out a new will leaving what little she had left or owned to me. I also have a Power of Attorney to act on her behalf.”

  “Okay, let’s go on board and if Daniel gives us a piece of paper and a pen, I’ll get you to write a surrender of Rascal over to Schnauzer Rescue,” I said.

  Jiff had remained quiet through the entire conversation with Ashley. Once we were all onboard, he asked her if she had a driver’s license or some form of ID that we could use in case anyone came questioning my intentions.

  She produced a New York driver’s license of Abby Westlake and her Florida ID card that had her name, Ashley Westlake on it. There were poor quality photos on the IDs and it was hard to tell whether or not it was this woman on either of them. Florida and New York take equally bad photos for a driver’s license.

  Jiff took a photo of both which his cell phone and sent them to me.

  “I have a Schnauzer too. In fact, both Brandy and I have Schnauzers. Is there anything in particular you can tell Brandy about Rascal? It would be good to know if he does something unusual, like hates cats or isn’t good with kids. It might be helpful finding the right home for him.”

  I put a hand in my pocket and felt the sleeve with the flash drives. I wondered if that was the ‘any
thing in particular’ Jiff was alluding to. If this was as important as we thought it might be, why didn’t she and the sister put it in a safe deposit box at a bank, I wondered.

  She shook her head as the tears started again. “He is a playful, sweet dog. He seems to get along with everyone. That’s all I know,” she said.

  “Is he neutered? We’ll get that done because all dogs in rescue must be before we place them in another home,” I said.

  “He already is,” Ashley said and wrote out she was surrendering the dog she co-owned with her deceased sister over to rescue. She signed it A. Westlake, dated it, and I asked her to write in her address here in Florida in case I needed to contact her for anything.

  For a moment she looked flustered and said she’d rather not if this paper ever got into the hands of her sister’s ex-husband he would know where to find her. She hurriedly finished writing in her sister’s Brooklyn, New York address. She gave me her cell phone number which I put into my cell phone. I added that it was very unlikely I’d have to call her for anything but this way, no one had the number but me.

  Jiff and I walked her back down the pier to her car. Ashley gave us all of Rascal’s earthly belongings—his numerous dog toys, a bed, a blanket-type sofa cover, an old collar that had some vet tags and a microchip tag. She said this was all her sister brought with her when she drove down to Florida. She hoped it might help Rascal transition to his new home.

  “I hope this helps with shots or anything else he needs,” she said putting two one hundred-dollar bills in my hand. Then she opened her car door to leave.

  “One last question,” I said.

  “What is your sister’s ex-husband’s name?” I asked. “I’d like to know in case he manages to track me down. You made him sound… resourceful.”

  “His name is Donnato Neglio.”

  Jiff and I exchanged a quick glance.

  “His name sounds familiar,” I said.

  “He’s Italian,” she said. “And from New York. He’s in the news from time to time, never for anything good.”