The Case of the Invisible Dog

by Diane Stingley

  “Nonsense,” Shirley said, shaking his hand heartily. “Your situation interests me greatly, and I believe that I can be of service. Let us retire to my office, and you can explain your situation more fully. Tammy, please get your notepad and follow us.”

  Shirley nudged a reluctant Matt Peterman along as she made her way to her office door and flung it open. I took a pad of paper and a pen from the top drawer of my desk and followed in behind.

  “Would you care for a cup of tea?” Shirley asked once Matt sat down in one of the chairs across from her desk. “It’s Earl Grey and quite delicious. Calming and yet energizing at the same time. A cup of tea—brewed correctly—is a gift from God. And yes, I do believe in God, for lack of a better word. You may find that statement a rather surprising confession from someone with my scientific mind. To which I would reply that while there is much in this world that can be explained by science, there still remain many mysteries for which no scientific explanation is sufficient. And, I dare say, in all likelihood never shall be. In the face of an infinite universe, even the most brilliant human mind has its limitations. To recognize that fact is the beginning of true wisdom.” Shirley gazed over our heads for a moment, lost in thought, and then suddenly refocused her attention on Matt. “Tea?” she asked with a smile.

  “No, thanks,” Matt said after a moment, looking dazed. I knew just how he felt.

  “Then on to your situation,” she said briskly. I flipped open my notepad as Shirley took her place on the oak swivel chair behind her desk. She leaned forward, folded her hands on top of her desk, and stared intently at our client. I stared at him, too, anxious to finally discover what it was that Shirley did for a living.

  “Please proceed, Mr. Peterman,” Shirley said. “Start your most interesting story from the very beginning so that Tammy has all the details. I believe that her more commonplace mind may be very beneficial in helping me to solve this case.”

  Matt looked over at me, and then back at Shirley, and, with an uncomfortable expression, shifted in his seat. Shirley merely stared at him expectantly, giving no indication that she had noticed his discomfort. Her wide brown eyes fixed unblinkingly on his face, as if she hoped to see through his skull and into his very thought processes. I wasn’t too happy having my mind described as commonplace yet again, but I told myself to let it go. There were worse things.

  “It’s like I told you at the restaurant—”

  “No, my good man. You must start at the beginning, as if we were meeting for the first time. Pretend that our earlier encounter at Hobson’s Bakery never happened. I want the details fresh so that Tammy can copy everything down accurately. And please be completely open with us. Otherwise we cannot help you.”

  “I don’t know,” Matt said, shifting awkwardly back and forth in his chair under the full force of Shirley’s focused attention.

  “What is it that you do not know?” Shirley asked crisply.

  “I, er, don’t know that you can really help me,” he muttered, unable to look Shirley in the eye.

  “Nonsense. You have tried to ignore the problem. You have tried to tell yourself that it is nothing. And yet you know that it is not nothing. You have tried to find a way to fix your problem. You have found no solution. You can think of no one who can help you. So now you come to Shirley Homes, because that is why I am here. To solve the cases that no one else can. As I told you at the restaurant, I seek no financial reward; I charge no fee. Any person—rich or poor—can come to me for help. I do it simply for the satisfaction of ridding the world of crime and evil, so that civilization may proceed along its ordained path.

  “Civilization, my good sir, is the great creation of humanity,” Shirley intoned, getting that faraway look in her eyes again, as if completely unaware of our presence. “It is a miracle of achievement, imagination, and perseverance, the great barrier standing between us and the dark night. But it is a creation that demands constant vigilance. I believe I was put on this earth to do my part to protect our great creation of civilization. It may be a small part—I try not to overstate my importance—but one small piece of rotten wood or one misplaced brick can eventually bring down an entire structure. Every moment that you delay is another moment that your problem remains unsolved.”

  Matt kept sneaking glances over at me every now and then as Shirley lectured on and on. Each time our eyes met I would give him an encouraging smile, but my smile became more and more forced as I grew increasingly uncomfortable. Listening to her conversation with poor Mr. Peterman, I began to have serious doubts about spending five days a week in the company of Shirley Homes. And then, while I waited for Shirley to wind down the lecture, I happened to glance over at Shirley’s bookcase. And that’s when I saw it: perched on the top shelf, conspicuous even among the collection of books, paperweights, and other knickknacks, there sat a hat. A most distinctive hat in brown and cream plaid, complete with earflaps and a peaked top. And suddenly all the pieces fell into place.

  “This isn’t some kind of a joke, is it?” Matt asked with a forced chuckle, his glance flicking from Shirley to me and back again.

  “Joke?” Shirley cocked her head. “If you think that your problem is a joke, my good man, that is your affair, and you can be on your way. But I take your situation most seriously. From what you have told me I think that there is more to your story than meets the eye. In fact, I think that you might very well be in grave danger.”

  “But it’s just a dog,” he said with a nervous smile.

  “An invisible dog, and therein lies the danger.”

  “An invisible dog?” I asked, thinking maybe I had missed some key part of the conversation.

  “Yes, Tammy. Our first case involves an apparently invisible dog.”

  Now it was my turn to stare intently at Matt. I was no longer sure which one of them was crazier, Matt Peterman or Shirley Homes.

  “Okay,” he said reluctantly, “I’ll admit that it’s weird. But there’s got to be a logical explanation. And I don’t think I’m in any real danger,” he added defensively.

  “Oh, yes,” Shirley said firmly. “There will definitely be a logical explanation. The existence of an invisible dog is impossible. Therefore, we will pursue every other possible explanation, no matter how improbable, until we find the correct result. But mark my words, you are indeed in danger. Until we identify the cause of this invisible dog, you must be on your guard. An invisible dog does not simply appear out of nowhere. Someone went to a lot of planning and trouble to bring an invisible dog into your life. And it is doubtful that they had your best interests at heart.”

  “Yeah,” Matt said slowly after a minute. “When you put it like that…it is pretty weird. Maybe somebody is up to something. And I can’t exactly take this to the cops. It’s too ridiculous. You’re really not going to charge me anything?”

  “I do not say things that I do not mean.”

  “Okay.” He thought things over for a few moments. “Okay,” he said again, sounding more confident. “I guess I have nothing to lose. Let’s see what you can do.”

  Shirley leaned back in her chair and I lifted my pen, very interested in spite of myself to hear more about Matt Peterman and his invisible dog.

  “Well,” Matt said. “It all started about four weeks ago. That’s when the Browns moved in next door. They seemed like great neighbors, really friendly and all. No kids. They both work for one of those big banks in Charlotte. They’re so nice that I can’t believe they’d have anything to do with this. They came over and introduced themselves and said when they got settled in they’d have me over for dinner one night.”

  “And they might very well be innocent victims in this as well,” Shirley said with a vigorous nod of her head. “Whoever is behind this dastardly game might have timed it to begin the moment they moved in for exactly that reason. So that suspicion would naturally fall onto the Browns.”

  “Like they’re being framed?” Matt asked.

  “Precisely. I do not believe in coin
cidences in matters such as these. Carry on.”

  “Okay. So ever since the Browns moved in, my life has been a living hell because of all the barking. I haven’t gotten more than three or four hours of sleep.”

  “Did you at least manage to get some sleep when you vacationed in Hawaii?” Shirley asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Your tan. Obviously recent, and that orange tone would indicate a tropical sun. You sell insurance, an honest and vital occupation, which affords a comfortable but not lavish monetary compensation. So a vacation to Hawaii, rather than, say, the Caribbean or some other exotic locale, is the obvious explanation for your tan.”

  “I haven’t ever been to Hawaii,” Matt said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

  “My good man, it has been months since we’ve had a warm, sunny day—warm enough to give you a glowing tan. Perhaps this trip to Hawaii—which you are so determined to keep secret for some reason—contains a clue regarding the appearance of this invisible dog into your life.”

  “Or maybe,” I said, “you went to a tanning salon?”

  “Of course! Of course he went to a tanning salon,” Shirley said, nodding her head vigorously as if it had been her idea.

  “Okay, I went a couple of times. I work inside all day and—”

  “Why you go to a tanning salon is neither here nor there,” Shirley said with an impatient shake of her head. “I threw out the Hawaii vacation idea to discover where you went when you took your recent trip out of town. A trip that you wanted to look your best for, and thus the reason for your visits to the tanning salon. And I think that on this trip you had a strange encounter of some kind? Maybe your luggage went missing? Or someone broke into your hotel room and searched through your belongings? Or you met a mysterious woman who later disappeared?”

  “No,” Matt said. “None of that. I haven’t taken a vacation in over three years.”

  “Have you perhaps been out of town on a business trip?” Shirley asked. “Good,” Shirley replied after Matt shook his head. “Since it is highly unlikely that someone would wait over three years—the date of your last vacation—before introducing this invisible dog into your life, we have one explanation eliminated. Whatever is behind this invisible barking dog has nothing whatsoever to do with a recent vacation. Proceed with your story.”

  “So after the first couple of nights,” Matt said with a mystified look in his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe he was still in her office (a feeling I completely understood), “I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to the Browns’ the next morning before they left for work and brought up the subject of their dog. I put it as nicely as I could, but they both gave me this funny look after I explained about the barking and how I wasn’t getting any sleep. They told me that they didn’t have a dog. And that they never heard any barking. Well, I felt pretty stupid then and made my excuses and left. I even told myself maybe I’d been dreaming the barking for some reason.

  “But that night it started again. It only happens at night. So after tossing and turning for a couple hours, I finally got up. The barking had stopped, but I still went outside with a flashlight. I went over to the fence and shined it around, and sure enough, I didn’t see any dog in their yard.

  “But as soon as I got back inside and into bed and returned to sleep, it started all over again. I went back out with my flashlight to take another look around. But just like before there was no sign of any dog! It’s gone on like this for almost four weeks now. The dog wakes me up, and then, as soon as I get out of bed, it stops. I try to go back to sleep, but it starts up again the minute I close my eyes and begin to get sleepy. Sometimes for only a minute, just enough to wake me up. It got so bad that a few days ago I went to the doctor and got a prescription for sleeping pills. But they only help so much. By two or three in the morning the dog wakes me up, and then that’s it. I’m so tired and sleep deprived that it’s started to affect my job.”

  “Interesting,” Shirley said tapping her fingers against the desk. “And what about the other neighbors? Have you asked them if they have also heard this barking dog?”

  “That’s just it. I live alone in a small cul-de-sac. There are only five houses. There’s the Browns, and me. Two of the other houses are empty. One was sold, but no one has moved in yet. The other was foreclosed on. And there’s the people in the house across the street, the Pittfords, who are in their eighties. Once they take out their hearing aids at night they’re stone deaf.”

  “And what about the land behind and around the cul-de-sac? Any houses there?”

  “There’s a golf course on one side, and the other side is still all trees. That land was going to be developed until the recession hit. The only other houses are in the neighborhood in front of us, but they’re not close at all. I can’t believe this is happening. I always had trouble sleeping when I lived in apartments because of the noise. I think it’s one of those sleeping disorder things. Once I wake up I stay up. When I got the house last year I actually started getting a full night’s sleep. But now it’s worse than it’s ever been.”

  Matt hesitated for a moment, and then looked down at the ground. “I…I don’t really like dogs. So this is like a nightmare.”

  “Intriguing,” Shirley said, nodding her head and pursing her lips for a moment. “I think there is a game afoot concerning this invisible dog—and a nasty game at that—the nature of which is not yet exactly clear. But take heart, Mr. Peterman. My colleague and I will take this case, and before long you’ll be sleeping soundly again. We shall not rest until we get to the bottom of this mystery of the invisible dog.”

  Chapter 3

  After Matt Peterman left the office, with assurances from Shirley that we should have an answer for him within a matter of days, I felt confused and torn. It was clear by now—and I wondered how I could have been so dense as to not have seen it right away—that my boss was indeed a nut job, and believed herself to be some sort of modern Sherlock Holmes. I don’t have anything against nut jobs. Since ordinary life appears to be kicking my butt, I think there’s a very good chance that I may be one myself.

  I just didn’t know if I could handle coming into the office every day, having to pretend her little Sherlock Holmes act was normal. But Matt Peterman hadn’t been pretending. And part of me was curious: What was the story behind the invisible dog?

  “I am intrigued, Tammy,” Shirley said once Matt had closed the door and we heard his footsteps clattering down the wooden stairs, “by this perplexing case. Since we are now committed to resolving it, I shall tell you how I came to find our first client. Two months ago I placed ads in all of the local publications advertising my services. There are many towns nearby and Charlotte is not far, either. Although my search for an able assistant had thus far proved fruitless, I was willing to shoulder my burdens alone if necessary. I worded my ad in such a way as to stand out from the others. Perhaps a mistake. Unfortunately, this is a world of conformity, and original thinkers are often left to a cruel fate. I waited in vain for the sound of a ringing phone or an anxious knock upon my door.

  “But finding you renewed my hope. I told myself that I must simply be patient. And in the meantime I had the opportunity to observe how you handled your unstructured time. My observations have shown me that you are someone who prefers to keep herself usefully occupied. And that you suffered acute embarrassment over being paid while seemingly doing nothing to earn that pay. Fortunately, you have a passion for plants—or perhaps just ferns—and can keep yourself entertained by the trivial details of their upkeep. And, of course, you also had your little computer game with pieces of candy or flying birds to move around the screen.

  That fleeting image of Shirley kneeling on her floor, intent on the keyhole, once again presented itself to my mind. I thought my days had been dull. But for her to have spent all those hours squatting on the floor watching me do nothing? Her thighs must be impossibly strong.

  “Those are outstanding qualities for the role that you will play in
my life. I, naturally, have a completely different temperament. You thrive under routine; I find it repulsive. Unless I have something extraordinary to occupy my mind, I suffer a level of boredom that leaves me almost paralyzed. And, unlike you, I do not have to worry about earning a living. That is both a blessing and a curse. I think, sometimes, that being forced to labor as the rest of the world does would perhaps be beneficial to my physical and emotional well-being…”

  Shirley’s voice trailed off and she looked toward the window for a moment before clearing her throat.

  “Be that as it may,” she continued, “when another two weeks had passed without a single inquiry I was, quite frankly, starting to despair. But then, as is often the case, the answer appeared without any effort on my part at all. Take note, Tammy. At times there is a hand of fate behind our affairs—sometimes our friend, sometimes our foe. But it is there all the same.

  “To continue. Each morning at eight o’clock I stop at the restaurant downstairs and enjoy my daily cup of coffee and a pastry. The woman who owns it, Mrs. Hobson, has an unpleasant personality at times, but her bear claws are unsurpassed. While finishing up the last of my bear claw, I overheard Mr. Peterman—a stranger to me then—telling a lovely, rather elegant and gracious elderly woman sitting at the table next to his that he was exhausted due to a barking dog that kept him awake at night. He had to talk quite loudly because the woman was very hard of hearing.

  “She seemed quite concerned about his predicament and asked many questions. There was something about the agitation in his manner that intrigued me, and I admit that I began eavesdropping. She asked if he had talked to the owner of the dog or called the police to complain. He was evasive at first, but I guess that her concern—Edna was her name, and she was really quite charming—wore down his defenses. He finally admitted that no one else besides him had ever seen or heard this dog that kept him up every night to the point of exhaustion. My curiosity finally outweighed my strong sense of propriety. I turned around and introduced myself and explained that I couldn’t help overhearing their conversation.