Dead Man's Best Friend

by Sarah Hines-Stephens

  “The dogs took off when you did, so he grabbed the burgers and went after them. I hope he can save them on his own!” She sighed and swung a leg over her bike.

  I’m surprised you didn’t chase after him! I thought, biting my tongue to keep the words from spilling out. I didn’t want Hayley to be mad at me. I wasn’t even sure why I was so mad at her. She’d just come to Muffet’s rescue … and mine, too!

  “Let’s just take Muffet home to Mommy Dearest,” I said, not that I was looking forward to that job. Using as few fingers as possible, I put the soiled pup in my bike basket.

  Hayley snorted. “Maybe we can stick a note around her neck that says ‘Wash Me’ and leave her on the porch.”

  I half laughed — it might have been the best idea I’d heard all day — but Muffet looked a little hurt. She sat in the basket, shivering. “Sorry, Muff. I guess this is the price of your little afternoon adventure.” Muffet’s tail dropped lower but she kept her head held high.

  Hayley and I didn’t talk the rest of the ride to our neighborhood. The silence was weird. But I didn’t want to think about it or talk about it, so I didn’t say a thing. I just kept pedaling.

  “Achoo!” I sneezed a big sneeze. It was so big I hit my nose on the sidewalk. Bow-ow. There was a smell in my snout that I wanted to get rid of. And it wasn’t Muffet’s rotten soup odor, either. That was actually kind of delicious. It was the tension smell between Hayley and my girl. It reminded me of the air before a rain — the smell of something about to happen. Of things that needed to be said.

  I wished I could put my paw on the problem. I hadn’t seen anything unusual. But neither girl was laughing. Or talking. Or petting me. In fact, Muffet was the only one in our little pack paying any attention to me at all. She wagged and barked and threatened to leap out of Cassie’s basket to get closer. Her gunk was starting to dry and fall off, but the smell hung on and I could tell Muffet was glad. That stench was like a badge. She’d earned it. Who’d want to put a pretty sweater on anydog who smelled like that? Actually, that might have been her motive.

  As we got close to Hayley’s house, Cassie finally spoke. “You don’t have to come with us,” she told her friend, staring at her handle bars. That wasn’t what I expected her to say. It wasn’t what Hayley expected, either.

  Hayley’s eyes seemed to shrink in her head. She was hurt. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. “Okay. I guess I should get home.”

  Cassie nodded and faked a smile. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I watched Hayley roll toward Spring Street. I watched her pedal away slowly, saw her look back over her shoulder. Once. Cassie didn’t see, but I did. Hayley’s brow crinkled. She almost called out, but didn’t. Her tail tucked, she rode away.

  “Dodge, come!”

  As we turned onto Summer’s street, Cassie started to breathe a little funny. When she hopped off to push her bike up the walk, Muffet jumped out of the basket and ran up the steps to bark at the Hills’ door. I could tell Cassie wanted to run in the other direction, but she didn’t. She was brave. I stood beside her. I was brave, too.

  “Here goes,” she mumbled as she pushed the doorbell. I heard footsteps, and the door opened. Summer looked at Cassie. Her eyes got skinny. She looked at me. Her lip pulled up on one side. She looked at Muffet and her mouth opened wide.

  “What … did … you … do?” she demanded.

  Orowl. There was a laughing bark that was jumping around in my throat. It was trying to get out. I told it to stay. Stay!

  Cassie’s mouth twitched. She told whatever was in her throat to stay, too.

  Muffet wiggled like crazy and let out a yap. At least she was happy to see Summer.

  Summer bent down, the sneer stuck on her face. When she got close enough for her human nose to catch a whiff, though, her sneer turned into a snarl. “Oh!” She stood up fast. “Oh my God. You stole my dog and you’re returning her like this?” she shrieked, holding her nose. “What did you do to her?”

  What? Stole her dog? Did something to her? “Woof!” I barked at that. No way. Little Miss Muffet followed me. And she worked hard at it, too.

  Cassie stepped forward. Her paws were balled into fists. “I didn’t steal your dog. I saved her. She was stuck in a Dumpster on the waterfront. And if it weren’t for Dodge, she’d still be in there. So how about a little gratitude?”

  Summer’s snout wrinkled. “Gratitude? My Muffet would never let herself get this … filthy,” she barked. She blinked her shiny eyes. The smell was really getting to her now. She stepped from foot to foot, and I nosed the muck-covered leash end. Summer saw the chewed stump and sucked in her breath. There it was. Proof. Muffet had chewed her way to freedom, but Summer wouldn’t admit she’d been wrong. That girl didn’t have half the pluck her dog had.

  “I don’t know why I’m surprised, Cassie,” Summer howled. “You’ve always been a liar and a thief. I guess you get that from your mom. I read all about it in the paper, by the way — how she’s off the force.”

  Rrrrr. Summer had stopped being funny. And I stopped telling the noises in my throat to stay. “Grrrr.” My growl rumbled in my throat. Cassie pet it back. She told me to cool it without saying a word. I listened, but it wasn’t easy.

  “Whatever,” Cassie mumbled. “Come on, Dodge, she’s not worth it.” Waving her hand, she stepped off the stoop. She walked in a hurry to where she’d parked her bike. She was done here, and so was I.

  “Yiiiip!” Muffet barked her thanks to me.

  The small dog was in for a bath full of perfume. I was sure of that. But her bark told me she thought it had been totally worth it. And that she was grateful for our help. Woof! At least one of those girls knew how to behave.

  I turned quickly and stomped off of Summer Hill’s porch. Dodge gave a final “woof,” and I was grateful Summer didn’t get the last word. I hated everything about Summer. Her matchy-matchy outfits. Her smug smile. Her ability to get to me. Everything!

  Summer Hill. More like Summer Pill.

  I must have been grumbling to myself as I put my bike away, because Dodge nosed my palm. I drew a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. “I know,” I said. “I should just ignore her. It’s just . . .” It was just everything. Mom getting suspended. Hayley getting all gaga over Taylor. And Summer being Summer. It was just too much.

  Before Mom got suspended, I looked forward to coming home at the end of the day. Downtime. Flop time. Relax time. Not anymore. As soon as we walked through the door a smell about as appetizing as Muffet’s vegetable muck accosted me. Mom was in the kitchen, and Owen was setting the table for four. He gave me a look. “Where’s Dad?” I asked quietly, so Mom wouldn’t hear. Owen raised his eyebrows, which meant, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Great,” I mumbled. Things were definitely getting worse if Dad wasn’t even coming home for meals. I felt a little mad at him for staying away from home — it didn’t feel fair. Then I walked into the kitchen and thought maybe he had the right idea. Maybe I was just jealous.

  The counter was covered in half-empty condiment jars and Tupperware containers, and the bad smell was coming from the stove. Mom was obviously trying to use up stuff in the fridge.

  “Hi, Mom. Need any help?” I asked, hoping for a no. I scraped the bottom of the pot on the stove, wondering what the residue was.

  “No. I’ve put together a shepherd’s pie,” she said, opening the oven. “Dad took a double shift. It’s just the four of us tonight, so I improvised.” Mom’s smile was slapped on and didn’t hide her stress, or the bags under her eyes. Just like the bottle of ketchup wasn’t going to hide the funky flavor of her improvised dinner.

  Mom carried the steaming dish of “pie” to the table, and we all sat down. Sam made a face.

  “It’s not that bad,” Mom said tiredly. “Try it.”

  I took a bite and washed it down with a long drink of milk, but Sam made the mistake of chewing. If things weren’t so terrible I might have enj
oyed seeing her gag. But I didn’t. Dad’s empty chair made dinner seem lonely. It was a reminder that my parents weren’t getting along and also made me think of Uncle Mark, whose empty spot could never be filled. I swallowed hard and took another sip of milk.

  Under the table, Dodge’s head rested on my feet, like always. I dropped a little food for him, but he barely bothered to eat it. The weight of his big head let me know he was feeling like the rest of us: miserable.

  “Earbuds out, Owen,” Mom said. Usually this would get a major eye roll from my big brother, but he didn’t even protest as he put the little headphones away. He just sat and stared.

  On the other side of the table, which somehow seemed like the other side of the world, Sam was talking a mile a minute. She went on and on about Girls’ Rock Camp, ignoring everyone else’s misery. “Did you register me online yet, Mom?” she demanded. “It’s only a thousand dollars for two weeks.”

  “What a bargain,” Owen mumbled.

  I rolled my eyes. How could Sam be so clueless? If we had a thousand dollars for Girls’ Rock Camp, would we really be eating icky leftovers? Then I noticed Mom’s face and decided to change the subject.

  “Hey, Mom, you know GreenWay? That company that owns a bunch of warehouses on the waterfront?”

  Mom nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “Is that the company putting in the new park and estuary?” The question had been fluttering around the back of my brain ever since we met Mr. Albrici. His comment about everything being bought up reminded me of the GreenWay signs that Hayley and I had noticed. I wondered if they were the people buying … and pressuring Mr. Albrici to sell. But why would they want to buy property that was supposed to be turned into a park? Were they in charge of building it?

  “I don’t think so, honey,” Mom said. “The city is in charge of that.” Her eyebrows twitched, though, and the line between them appeared. I could almost see the gears in her brain engaging. She knew more than she was saying, which meant (1) I was probably onto something, and (2) those gears still moved. Excellent!

  “So the city will buy the property from current owners and then put in the park? I thought they’d be starting by now,” I said to my plate of awful. “They made such a big deal about it.”

  Mom nodded again but didn’t say anything as she absentmindedly forked up a bite of food. I could tell she was thinking. Mulling something over.

  Feeling a little lighter, I pushed back my chair and started to clear. Cleanup was going to take a while. Luckily I had Dodge. He took one for the team and swabbed away the shepherd’s pie with his wide, pink tongue, prepping the plates for the dishwasher. “You’re a miracle,” I told him, pausing long enough to stroke his smooth ears.

  When we finally finished, we headed into the office. I “needed” some paper. And I also wanted to take another look at Mom’s file. I pulled several sheets of lined paper out of a drawer while I scanned the desktop. Right away I spotted the manila folder sticking out from under a stack of papers, and something else: a blue folder I was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. I pulled the blue one out. It was labeled “Corps,” too, but was thinner than the other one. And underneath “Corps” someone had scribbled the word “unofficial.”

  My heart started to thud. I looked at Dodge, the open office door, and back at the blue folder. Dodge padded to the door to keep watch. My hands trembled and I slid several documents out. I scanned each page as quickly as I could, my eyes zeroing in on words like “raid” and “search” and “seizure.”

  “This’ll need a thorough reading,” I whispered to Dodge. These “unofficial” papers would probably be way more informative than Mom’s police file. I was about to shove the whole thing under my shirt when Dodge made a sound in his throat. Uh-oh. Time was up. I barely managed to cram the blue folder back under a pile of papers on the desk before Mom walked in.

  “Oh, Cassie, I didn’t know you were in here,” she said.

  “I was just getting some paper,” I mumbled. I hoped she wouldn’t notice my blazing cheeks. Luckily, she wasn’t looking. She was focused on the desk. I just stared as she lifted the whole pile, taking all the folders and my hopes of reading more anytime soon.

  “Be sure to turn off the lights when you leave, okay?”

  I nodded mutely, feeling guilty and disappointed. My fingerprints were all over the blue card stock — totally incriminating — but I hadn’t had enough time to glean any real clues.

  I was so busy being bummed out that I almost missed the small slip of paper that fluttered out of the blue folder as Mom left the room. I waited until she was all the way up the stairs before bending down to retrieve it. I glanced at the note and a shudder went up my spine. It was a piece of paper from a desk tablet. On it was a handwritten note. I recognized the handwriting immediately — I’d seen it on birthday cards and homemade treasure maps.

  I was looking at a note from Uncle Mark.

  The Mom was going bonkers. Pulling everything out of the closets. Everything. She went from sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee to making piles all over the house. Clothes, books, toys, sports stuff, gadgets, and a mountain of old T-shirts and towels for Pet Rescue, to make the beds cozier. I wanted to bury myself in that heap of cotton. Hide from The Mom’s madness. But I knew she’d shoo me out of there in a heartbeat. There was no escape. Aw, woof.

  I padded up the stairs and eyed The Cat, who snoozed on the windowsill. In the sun. Out of the way. It was totally unfair, how easy it was for cats to get out of the way. Much harder for a big German shepherd. With a disgruntled yawn and a stretch, I chose a corner by the stairs to curl up in. I’d just have to wait it out.

  Lately I’d been doing a lot of waiting, which I hated. I especially hated waiting without napping. The Mom made a lot of noise while she worked. Talked to herself. Listened to the radio. And worse, ran the vacuum. I hated the vacuum. It could not be trusted. It could not be approached. And it was impossible to ignore.

  I stood up. Circled. Lay down again. I scratched some itchy spots. Licked some fur. Found some bits of Muffet’s compost stew in my coat and chewed them out. Nothing helped.

  The vacuum stopped, and The Mom came into the hall with an armful of books. Mumbling. She dumped them into a box and went back into her bedroom. The Cat yawned and stretched. Lazy beast. Finally the house got quiet. Thank goodness. All this purging put a dog on edge. Even a dog with special training. I put my head on my paws. I e-x-h-a-l-e-d and closed my eyes.

  Tha-woomp, tha-woomp, tha-woomp. I ran through a grassy field, chasing butterflies. Crickets cricked. Birds sang. Somebody cried. Wait, cried? That wasn’t right. I stopped running and looked around, confused. Who was crying? It sounded like a human, but there were no humans in my field — just grasses, wildflowers, and butterflies. Then I got it. The field was a dream. The crying was coming from the awake world. My legs twitched. I wanted to chase butterflies. But I had to wake up. Get up. Provide comfort. It was part of my job.

  I bounded over one last patch of dream daisies and forced my eyes open. I lurched to my feet and trotted toward the crying noise. I was barely awake, but my good ear pricked painfully. And what I saw made my tail touch the floor.

  The Mom sat on her bed. Her hands covered her face. She rocked back and forth, and sobbed. An open book sat next to her on the bed, but not a regular book. This was the kind humans wrote in. A diary. I pulled the box of tissues off the dresser and carried them to the bed. Tissues were good for humans when their eyes got leaky. I put my nose on her knee.

  The Mom didn’t look at me, but she knew I was there. And I knew it helped, a little. I sat close to her. Finally she patted my head. “Oh, Dodge,” she sniffled. “What have I done? It’s all such a mess.” She smelled like saltwater, and her face was blotchy. “How are we going to get out of this?” I licked her cheek and puffed air out through my nose. I was good at cleaning up messes. But not this kind.

  We sat and stayed, together, for a long time. Really long. We were still
staying when the doorbell rang. My ear twitched, but The Mom didn’t move. “What now?” she asked quietly. Then, all of a sudden, she was on her feet. She checked her face in the mirror and smoothed her sweater.

  I trotted down the stairs in front of her, barking out my greeting. Who was there? I sniffed the crack around the edges of the door. A dog could smell a lot around the edges. I smelled onions and … steak?

  “It’s all right, Dodge,” The Mom told me as she opened the door. But I wasn’t so sure.

  When she saw the person on the stoop, her mouth dropped open. More than a little. “Mayor Baudry,” she said, straightening and holding the door wide. The mayor was not my favorite human — he liked to be in charge too much. And he wasn’t very good at it. But he was holding a doggie bag. A doggie bag full of steak. “I just came from a lunch meeting,” he said, shaking the bag slightly. The smell of grilled meat drifted right to my nose. It made my tail thump on the floor. Steak. I loved steak. Steak was my favorite.

  “Can the old boy have the leftovers?” the mayor asked. He meant me. The steak was for me! The Mom smiled and nodded. I licked my chops. Mayor Baudry opened the bag and dropped a hefty piece of steak — rare, the way I like it! — onto the tile floor. Mmm, steak!

  While I gobbled, they talked. “I’m so sorry about all this, Dorrie,” the mayor said. “I tried my best to stop the investigation, but my hands were tied.” I glanced up. His hands didn’t look tied.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” The Mom agreed as she led him into the living room. I stayed with the steak.

  “I just came by to tell you that I’m doing absolutely everything I can to expedite this terrible process,” he continued. “Bellport needs its police chief at work, protecting its citizens!”

  I half listened while I licked meat juice from the floor. The taste of steak lingered on the tile and my tongue.

  “I really appreciate it. This has been quite stressful, as you might imagine,” The Mom said. I licked until the flavor was gone. I wished there was more. I also wished The Mom would stop talking and tell the mayor to go home. He was useless. And she was acting more Beta than Alpha. It wasn’t like her. It wasn’t right. She was The Chief! Top dog! Alpha all the way!