The Pomeranian Always Barks Twice

by Alex Erickson

  I was glad to see the veterinary lot was practically empty, which meant there weren’t a lot of sick animals at the moment. Manny’s car sat beside a beat-up Toyota. A few spaces down was Ray Trudeau’s Kia. Beside that was Trinity’s—the veterinary assistant—car. There was only one other car in the lot. This one, I didn’t recognize.

  I parked beside Manny’s Ford, and then entered the office.

  “Hi, Liz,” Trinity said, snapping her gum. She was in her mid-twenties, and I had a feeling she’d been hired more for her looks than any skills she might have. Not that I held it against Manny. She was blond, blue-eyed, and had a figure that made most men drool.

  Ben had tried to get her attention more than once, but so far, his attempts have been in vain. I’m not sure if she rebuffed him because she truly wasn’t interested, or if it was because she worked for his dad. Either way, I was kind of glad they hadn’t gotten together. I sometimes wondered if she forgot her brain at home because, occasionally, she acted as airheaded as she looked.

  “Hey, Trinity. Is Manny busy?”

  “He’s with a husky now,” she said. “Just took him in a few minutes ago, so it could be a little while before he’s free.”

  “I can wait.”

  Trinity flashed me a smile, and then went back to toying with her phone.

  The veterinary office was split into two sections. Dogs entered on the right, cats on the left. Any other animals brought in were left up to the owner’s discretion. More often than not, birds and rodents ended up on the dogs’ side, because not all cat owners kept their animals caged or leashed. While the dogs might bark, they normally didn’t cause any trouble with the other animals.

  I’d entered on the cat side out of habit. I’d been here with Wheels more times than I could count, so it was second nature to me. Cat magazines rested in a rack by the door. Pamphlets on some of the more common cat ailments lay on a table next to that. On the wall above the benches, a portrait of the world’s fattest cat hung, with a warning about all the health issues that could arise for letting your feline grow so large next to it.

  I walked past the counter and peered in through the small window atop the first exam room door, hoping to catch a glimpse of not only Manny at work, but at the husky he was checking out. I loved huskies, even if they could be stubborn, but room one was empty. I moved on, past a chart of healthy dog weights—which seemed to be one of the biggest issues people had with their pets—toward exam room two.

  I’d just reached the door when it opened and Ray Trudeau appeared, wearing scrubs decorated with jovial puppies.

  “Oh!” he said, taking a sudden step back. “I didn’t see you there, Liz.”

  “Hey, Ray,” I said. “Been busy today?”

  “Thankfully, no,” he said. He rubbed at his thick mustache and regarded me with deep-set hazel eyes. “I heard about this whole mess with Ben. How are you doing?”

  “I’m surviving. This thing with Ben is throwing me for a major loop.”

  Ray leaned on the wraparound counter. Trinity glanced up from her phone long enough to shoot him a disapproving glare, before going back to whatever it was she was doing.

  “It’s gotten to us all,” Ray said. “Manny’s doing what he can to keep busy, but I can tell his mind isn’t completely on his work. He’s not going to risk an animal’s health, mind you, but I do believe he wishes there was more he could do.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  Ray reached out, squeezed my shoulder. “I’m sure everyone keeps telling you this, but I’m going to say it too: it’ll all work out. These sorts of things always find a way to come out right in the end. It might not seem like it sometimes, but have faith.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  A bark came from exam room three then. It sounded more surprised than angry. I was guessing the husky either got her temperature taken, or was given a shot.

  “Holly told me a little about what happened,” Ray said. “I don’t pay much mind to the news, not with it always being so damn depressing all the time. I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact Timothy Fuller was killed.”

  Trinity perked up, eyes drifting away from her phone. Apparently, murder was a topic she could get into.

  “Did you know him?” I asked, not sure I wanted to talk about Timothy’s death, but was curious nonetheless.

  “A little,” Ray said. “I knew his Pomeranian, Stewie, more than I knew the man himself. The old dog had a few minor ailments, but nothing that was life-threatening or would affect his quality of life. Tim would bring him in like clockwork, once a month, just to make sure everything was okay. He wasn’t a nice man, but he sure cared about his dog.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

  “I don’t know what the two of them saw in one another, but I will say, Stewie cared about Tim just as much as the old man did the dog.”

  “Really?” I asked. “What makes you say that?”

  “He was always so protective of his owner.” Ray chuckled. “Can you imagine such a little dog playing at guard dog? It was entertaining to watch, let me tell you.”

  “Sometimes, the smaller dogs are the feistier ones.”

  “That’s true.” Ray nodded, smiling fondly as he remembered. “About two months ago, Tim came in for his monthly checkup for Stewie, that nurse of his in tow.”

  “Meredith.”

  “He was messing around with the pamphlets—Tim, not the dog—and giving her a hard time whenever she tried to tell him to stop. It was kind of like watching a mother with a misbehaving child, to tell you the truth. The nurse eventually grabbed him by the wrist after he’d knocked over half the magazines, and Stewie completely lost it. He started snarling and barking, so much so, I think it started to worry everyone in the room. It surprised the nurse to no end, while Tim cackled like he’d planned the whole thing. Man, he sure got a kick out of it.” He shook his head, an amused smile on his face.

  I immediately thought back to the last time I’d seen Stewie. He’d been trapped in a corner, barking and snarling at Junior. I’d assumed then it was because Junior was chasing after him, but what if there was more to it than that? What if he was barking at Junior because little Stewie knew who killed his owner and was trying to warn him off?

  “How was Stewie with other people?” I asked, mulling it over. Could the Pomeranian serve as a witness to murder? I’m not sure there was any judge in the world that would accept it, but maybe it would give the police a better suspect.

  That was, if they didn’t laugh me out of the room for suggesting it.

  “Skittish sometimes, especially around me. I think he realized I was going to be poking and prodding him, so he ended up trying to run from me most of the time. I often had to have someone hold the dog down so I could check his ears, lest he snap at me. Those teeth of his might have been old and small, but they were still pretty sharp.”

  The door opened and a couple came in with a morbidly obese tabby. They went to the desk to sign in with Trinity, who looked annoyed to have to stop listening in on our conversation.

  “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Williamson,” Ray said. “I’ll be right with you.” He turned to me. “I guess I’d better get back to work.” He put a hand on my shoulder, looked into my eye, face growing serious. “Be good, Liz. Remember, we’re all thinking about you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ray took the Williamsons and the fat cat into exam room one. I looked to Trinity, who’d lost interest the moment we stopped talking about the murdered man, and was back to poking at her phone and snapping her gum. I might as well not have been there.

  I considered just leaving, but I really wanted to see Manny before I went and did something stupid. I headed for exam room three and peeked in through the window. The husky was standing on the table, coat practically gleaming in the light. The dog had bright blue eyes, and looked to only be about a year old. Her owner was a thirty-something man I’d seen around town, but never had the occasion to m
eet.

  Manny was checking the dog’s teeth, and I was surprised how stoically she took the examination. After only a brief look, he stepped back, said something to her owner, and then shook the man’s hand. A moment later, dog and owner were on their way, and Manny stepped out to see me.

  “Liz,” he said, seemingly surprised to see me. “Is there news?”

  “No news,” I said, giving him a brief hug. He smelled like dog. “I dropped off Toby and Leroy today. It looks like they’ll be in good hands.”

  “Great,” he said, eyes following the husky.

  “Anything wrong?” I asked.

  “Hmm?” He glanced at me.

  “With the dog?”

  “Oh, no.” He smiled fondly. “Apparently, she tried to chew through a rusty metal pipe. Teeth are fine, but I gave her a shot, just in case.”

  “That’s good.” The husky was going to be a really good-looking dog when she grew up.

  “How about you?” he asked. “Are you doing okay?”

  “I wish everyone would stop asking me that,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “How do you think I’m doing? It’s not like I can stop worrying about Ben or what happened.”

  “I know what you mean,” Manny said. “I can’t stop thinking about it either.”

  “I keep playing over the entire thing in my head,” I admitted. “But sometimes, I wish I could forget, just long enough to pretend that the world isn’t falling down around my ears.”

  Manny immediately pulled me into another hug. “The world isn’t falling apart,” he said. “It might feel like it, but it’s not. Ben will be fine.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “Lester will take care of everything. He called to let me know he was going to see Ben this morning.”

  “Maybe I should go with him,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll want to talk to me too.”

  Manny released me, held me at arm’s length. “Go home, Liz,” he said. “Let Lester do his job. Try to get some rest if you can. If that doesn’t work, then try to find something else to occupy your mind.”

  “I could get the room ready for Stewie’s arrival, I suppose,” I said, grudgingly. It needed to be done, but honestly, I had no interest in cleaning the room. I wanted to see Ben.

  “Perfect.” He smiled, though I could still see the worry behind his eyes. “Do that. Get your mind off Ben for a little while. It’ll do you some good.”

  I wondered if he was doing the same, but decided not to ask him. Manny dealt with things in his own way. Hopefully, he’d understand when I dealt with them in mine.

  We said our goodbyes, which included a chaste kiss on my cheek. I did feel a little better after talking to him, but I still didn’t think I could focus on much other than Ben’s welfare. How did people go on when something like this happened? I was struggling to make it minute to minute without having a panic attack. What if it took weeks before the police found the real killer?

  What if they never did?

  A flare of panic almost made me rush to my van and drive straight to the police station to find out what progress the detective had made. I resisted the urge and resolved to go home and do exactly what Manny told me to do, even if I’d hate every second of it.

  Fate, however, had other plans for me.

  As soon as I was behind the wheel of my van, my phone rang. Since I was thinking of Ben and Detective Cavanaugh, my mind immediately latched on to the idea that it was one of them, calling to tell me they’d caught the real killer and that everything would be okay.

  I snatched up the phone, and without looking at the screen, I answered. “Hello?” I asked, breathless. “Detective Cavanaugh?”

  “No, sorry, Liz. It’s Duke.”

  “Duke?” At first, I was confused as to why he was calling me, and then I remembered my visit to his house yesterday. “Did Sasha tell you I stopped by?”

  “She did,” he said. “I was going to call last night, but got busy. Before I knew it, it was too late. Figured I’d wait until today to get hold of you. Hope that’s all right.”

  “It’s fine.” Though, I wondered if the time was really the reason he hadn’t called last night, or if he’d needed to come up with some sort of excuse for his actions—whatever they may be. “What can I do for you, Duke?” I asked.

  “Sasha said you wanted to talk. I’m thinking that it might be a good idea.”

  “Okay, when?”

  “How about now?” he asked. “I’m free for the next hour, hour and a half. We could meet downtown. Let’s say, Sophie’s Coffeehouse?”

  “Sounds good. I can be there in ten minutes.”

  “Make it fifteen.”

  I clicked off, mind whirling. As much as I wanted to forget about Ben’s predicament, I couldn’t let this opportunity pass. Something was up with Duke and Courtney, and I had a feeling it could very well have to do with Stewie and old man Fuller.

  And if that was the case, it might also have something to do with Timothy’s murder, and that was something I couldn’t ignore.

  13

  Sophie’s Coffeehouse was once an old Victorian house, but had been converted into a business. It was situated downtown, down the street from where the statue of Grey Falls’ founder, Sebastian Grey, stood. The house had been converted years ago when the area was rezoned after a long debate on what to do with the area. While the houses used to once be nice, neglect had turned them into an eyesore; hence the rezoning. The whole street is now filled with old houses, many of them which were once considered mansions, repurposed as businesses.

  Sophie’s was one of the smaller houses, scrunched between an oddly shaped tanning salon—which looked like someone took a bunch of square boxes and placed them haphazardly on top of one another—and an optometrist’s office.

  I pulled around to the small lot out back and parked. Sophie’s was always busy, and today was no different. The lot was nearly full, and when I entered, I noted many of the tables were taken. Most people kept their voices down, though there was one boisterous man in the corner who shouted at his companions across the table like they were hard of hearing. His laugh was twice as loud.

  “Liz,” Duke called, waving his hand to grab my attention. He was sitting in the opposite corner, as far away from the big man as he could get. I had a feeling it was intentional.

  “Duke,” I said, joining him. “I’m actually surprised you called.”

  “I’m surprised myself,” he said. “If Courtney knew I was here with you, she’d probably explode. She isn’t too happy with you right now.”

  “What a shock,” I said, deadpan.

  Duke chuckled and waved over the waitress. “Black coffee, please,” he said. “And a water.”

  “Same for me,” I said, when she turned to me.

  My gaze traveled over Duke’s shoulder, and out the window. I could see the top of Sebastian’s head, as well as his hand, which was raised in salute.

  “I remember telling Ben the story about him,” I said, nodding toward the statue.

  Duke looked over his shoulder, and then turned back to me. “Sebastian Grey?”

  “Yeah. He couldn’t believe the town was named after a man whose greatest feat was falling down.”

  “He did land on his feet.”

  “True.”

  As the story went, Sebastian Grey fell out of his wagon, flipped in the air, and somehow, landed on his feet. There were no waterfalls in town, no cliffs. Just a short fall from a wagon. It was said he decided to settle in what would become Grey Falls because he thought the land was good luck since he hadn’t broken his fool neck in the fall.

  I wasn’t sure how much truth there was to the story, but it did make for an interesting tale. Ben had been fascinated by it.

  Duke and I fiddled with our napkins and readied our condiments in silence, neither of us quite sure where to go from there. A few minutes later, the waitress returned. She was a perky teenager who looked to be on her first job. She didn’t seem to note our somb
er expressions.

  “Here you go!” she said happily, setting down two mugs, and filling each. “Need me to grab any cream or flavored syrup? We just got some bourbon caramel in, if you’re interested.”

  “No thank you,” I said. Sugar was more than enough for me.

  “I’m good.” Duke flashed her a smile.

  “Okie! Let me know if you need anything.” With a decided spring in her step, she moved on to another table.

  “So,” I said, scooping cane sugar into my coffee. There were no prepackaged paper packets at Sophie’s. Instead, small containers of different sugars and sweeteners sat in a circle. Duke opted for the standard white. “What do you want to discuss?”

  He stirred his coffee, took a sip. “You tell me,” he said. “You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

  He had me there. “It’s mostly about the other day, when Mr. Fuller died.” Okay, it wasn’t just mostly, but it felt strange sitting there, talking to him, when he might have been involved in the murder. I was having trouble forcing myself to get to the point out of fear of how he’d react.

  “I figured as much,” he said, eyes never leaving mine.

  “When I went to Courtney’s house, after Mr. Fuller kicked us out, I expected you to be there.”

  “And Courtney expected Ben.” He held my gaze as he took another drink.

  “True. But I know where Ben was. You, on the other hand, I don’t. Courtney wasn’t exactly forthcoming.”

  “No disrespect, but what business is it of yours where I was?” Duke set down his mug, and waited me out while I swirled my coffee.

  I felt like I was treading on some pretty thin ice. I liked Duke, despite who he worked for. I didn’t want to accuse him of anything, but if he had something to do with Timothy’s death, I needed to know. For Ben, if nothing else.

  “It’s not, really,” I said when I couldn’t take the silence any longer. “But I’m worried. Ben is in a lot of trouble and if I can figure out who was where and when, then maybe I can find a way to help him.”