Paws For Death

by Susan Union

  “What would Eskimos use them for?” Her mother hated to be wrong. “They’d get lost in the snow.”

  Dainsworth cleared his throat. “Actually, the breed originated in Germany. They were called German Spitz. Watchdogs. Renamed due to anti-German prejudice during the First World War. This one’s Hans. Sharp as a whip.” Dainsworth’s smile showed crooked yellow teeth that seemed out of character with the rest of his appearance. Randi hadn’t noticed them before. Must’ve been too distracted by his over-the-top sales pitch.

  “Coffee?” he asked. “It’s decaf. Already made.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Love some.” For her mother’s sake, Randi did her best to sound grateful. “Thanks.”

  Dainsworth shuffled into the kitchen, slippers schussing over the floor. Hans trotted after him and sat at his feet, ears perked. Dainsworth rubbed the dog between the ears. “He’s a good boy, but we still have a lot of ground to cover as far as how he relates to others of his species. So, thank you for not bringing your dogs. Hans might have had a heart attack.”

  Randi played with the ends of her hair. Animals had emotions, feelings, intelligence, and a soul. She’d champion that all the way to the bank, but the idea someone could spend twenty minutes with them and know their history and deepest secrets was a farce, yet Dainsworth seemed kind, and the dog certainly didn’t look abused. “What happens when Hans is around other dogs?”

  “His heart beats so fast he practically faints. Sometimes his legs go out from under him and he drops like a sack of potatoes.”

  “Wow. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “Until I can really work with Hans on his issues, it’s certainly not something I want to risk demonstrating to you.

  “The fairgrounds are crawling with dogs. How’d you get Hans to your trailer?”

  “The owner blindfolded him then put cotton in his ears so he wouldn’t hear the barking.”

  “How do you plan to fix him?”

  “I gotta go way back. Get him to tell me about his puppyhood. Like us, dog trauma usually takes root at a young age.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’ll do some work with hand puppets that smell like dogs, but since I’m the one controlling the movements, I’ll be able to work through his fears without scaring the bejeezus out of him and sending him right back to square one.”

  “You asked my mother to come because of Hans?” She hoped the question would lead to the real reason they were here so they could go home.

  “No. That’s not why.” He picked up the coffeepot and spoke over his shoulder as he poured. “Lee Ann, you were Gina’s best friend, yes?”

  A guilty look flashed across her mother’s face. “Yes, of course.”

  “I thought so. That’s why I’ve chosen you to be the one with whom I share this, shall we say…rather sensitive information.” He raised a mug at Randi. “Milk?”

  “Please. And a tiny bit of sugar.”

  “Lots of both for me,” her mother added.

  Dainsworth smiled. “I know what you like.”

  Her mother blushed.

  Dainsworth took his time mixing and stirring. “Before Gina’s death, I was seeing Zoom.” Dainsworth said it like he’d been carrying on an illicit affair.

  Her mother looked surprised. “Gina never told me. In fact, when I mentioned your name, she made a face and said she didn’t believe in ‘that kind of bullshit.’ Sorry, Dylan, but it’s a direct quote.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. Gina was covering up.” Dainsworth carried the mugs to the table and set them down. Hans trotted after him. “She couldn’t risk anyone finding out.”

  Randi shifted on the wooden chair. “A cover-up?”

  “Gina was torn. She knew Zoom was suffering, mentally that is. She took a chance in bringing him to me.”

  “What kind of chance?”

  “You ever see her run Zoom?”

  “Sure.” She’d never forget watching the two of them on course together. “They looked unbeatable.”

  “On the agility field, yes.” Dainsworth’s eyes grew dark. “At home things were different.”

  “How?” her mother asked. “Why was Zoom suffering? Gina took great care of him.”

  “He was depressed.”

  “About what?”

  “Allow me to explain.” Dainsworth disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a laptop that he set on the table. “Watch.” He pressed the play button and a dog appeared on the screen. A petite beige thing that looked like it might have been a pampered poodle in another life. Its fur was matted and something brownish-purple was smeared over its face. A man, visible only from the waist down, set the dog on the grass and it went to lift all four feet up at once like the lawn was on fire.

  Her mother’s hand flew to her mouth. She spoke through her fingers. “Oh no. What’s wrong with that poor dog?”

  Dainsworth pressed pause. “She’s never felt the ground beneath her feet. Keep watching.”

  The dog trembled, peering down at the grass like she was about to be swallowed up by a monster. The man in the video moved to the opposite end of the yard. Bending over he patted his thighs. “Come on, sweetie. Come on.”

  The pitiful dog tried her heart out, but for some reason, she couldn’t walk. She would hop but seemed opposed to having all four feet on the ground at the same time. She yanked them up, high-stepping like the ground was quicksand.

  Her mother leaned back. “That’s terrible. Is she okay?”

  Dainsworth put his hand on her mother’s arm. “Don’t worry. Since her rescue, she lives like a princess.”

  “Rescue?”

  “She spent eleven years as a puppy mill breeding bitch. Until that moment you just saw, her feet had never touched the ground. Almost every puppy sold in a pet store has a mother who’s spent her entire existence in a tiny cage. Rotting teeth, mats so thick the hair sometimes grows right into the wire. Infections, bloody sores, living in their own poop. Never petted, never let out, never walked. Never knowing the gentle touch of a hand or a simple stroll in the park, only wire on the bottom of her feet and sometimes the elements beating on her head.” Dainsworth blew his nose. “Picture a dog the size of a beagle living its whole life in a cage the size of a dishwasher.”

  Her mother gulped. “That’s awful.”

  Dainsworth shut the laptop. “You bet it is. You know why? Go to any mall on a Saturday afternoon and you’ll see people shelling out thousands of dollars for an adorable purebred puppy that’s likely carrying parasites or a nasty illness and is going to cost that family a bundle at the vet. The majority of puppies in pet stores come from mills, you know, and many are impulse purchases. People hit the malls to shop for a new dress or a pair of shoes and come home with a puppy.

  “Ridiculous, right? But that’s the market, and it sentences the mother dogs to a lifetime of misery and imprisonment, only to be taken out back and shot or sold at auction when the mill operator deems them as no longer useful to the business.”

  Randi recalled her conversation with Carolyn about puppy mills. “Was Zoom born in one of those mills?”

  “Miranda,” her mother flattened her hand against the table.

  Dainsworth shook his head. “Border collies are a breed with a unique skill set. Not the type to be sold in pet stores, but there was something there, in Zoom’s mind, that was troubling him. I just couldn’t get to it. That’s why I wanted you to bring him to me when Copeland refused.” Dainsworth lowered his voice like he was protecting Zoom’s privacy. “I thought he could tell me why Gina was killed, but then I figured it out by myself.”

  Randi leaned forward. “And?”

  “I think, somehow, Gina was involved with puppy mills.”

  This time her mother’s scowl was directed at Dainsworth. “You’re wrong, Dylan. Gina loved dogs, and not only dogs—she loved all animals.”

  Randi chimed in. “Mom, he’s actually not the first person to suggest something like that. When you w
ere in Colorado—”

  Her mother stood so fast the mugs rattled on the table and the coffee sloshed. “No way. Gina would never even patronize a pet store, much less be a cog in the puppy mill wheel.”

  Dainsworth crossed his arms. “She would if the mill belonged to her.”

  “What are you saying?” Her mother’s upper lip trembled. “Why would she do such an unspeakable thing?”

  Dainsworth pursed his mouth. “Easy answer. Easy money. Profits over animal welfare. It’s a multi-billion dollar business.”

  “I don’t believe you. Gina wasn’t involved. That’s a downright lie.”

  “I know it’s hard to imagine, but think about it, Lee Ann. Gina could pick any place to live she pleased, but she chose to stay in Oklahoma. Land for miles and not much regulation. No nosy neighbors poking their business into yours. Thing is, behind those walls and gates, there’s filth, horrid conditions, and neglect. It’s what makes it so profitable. Your costs are dirt cheap, yet the puppies go for thousands in the pet stores. The mills sell to wholesalers yet still turn a considerable profit.”

  Randi closed her hand around her mug. Of course! The “other” family business. The “secret” Gina dangled over Mel’s head. The thing Dusty was too afraid to speak of. Let down their guard and PETA might blow the whistle on the entire operation. Dainsworth might be on to something.

  Her mother flopped into the chair. “I’m telling you, Gina would never be a part of that. She loves dogs.”

  “She turned a blind eye, Lee Ann, and put other people in charge. The mills are likely located in the sticks, not in their backyard. Out of sight, out of mind. Gina wouldn’t have to get her hands dirty. All she had to do was drive to the bank.”

  Her mother gathered her purse. “I don’t appreciate you inferring incriminating things about Gina. Especially when she’s not here to defend herself.” She lifted her chin. “Besides, she didn’t need to make money off breeding dogs and selling them to pet stores. Her parents left her plenty.”

  Dainsworth shook his head. “Another cover-up, I’m afraid. All the money was sunk into the mills.”

  Randi put her hand on her mother’s elbow. “Mom, take a deep breath. Please. I’m not ready to leave yet. I have some questions for Mr. Dainsworth.”

  “Dylan,” he said.

  “Okay. Sure. Dylan. Are you saying Gina was killed because of her involvement in these squalid dog-breeding operations? Seems pretty subjective.”

  “I don’t know all the details. I’m hoping you two can help me figure it out.” Dainsworth put her mother’s mug in the sink. Next to the microwave sat a tower of paper cups. His hand bumped the tower and the top half of the stack tumbled, exposing something pinkish-white with hard, familiar angles.

  Randi walked her mug to the sink, set it down and ran some water inside. She picked up a fist-sized piece of rose quartz. “Are you a collector?”

  “It’s a wonderful stone. Do you know about it?”

  “I know if it had hit one of our heads when it crashed through Andrew and Valerie’s window, somebody would have a very large dent in their skull.”

  “Miranda!”

  “It’s okay, Lee Ann. I have nothing to hide and certainly no reason to protect him.”

  “Protect who?”

  Dainsworth sighed. “Steve Copeland. He came to see me with Blast the first day of the trial. I’d barely attached my hook-ups and there he was, waiting. So, I rearranged my schedule and did a session with the dog, which was very successful, assuring Copeland of top results. Later, after he’d left, I noticed a sizeable portion of my collection was missing.”

  “How long did it take you to notice?” Randi asked.

  He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It was when I was making coffee for the next client’s handler. Half an hour maybe?”

  “Did you go after him?”

  “No. I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject without looking like a wacko.”

  Of course. Dainsworth was forever consumed with his appearance. “Copeland stole from you. He’s the wacko. Any idea why he took it?”

  “Same reason anybody would. People in this game love their dogs. People who mistreat dogs are pariahs. Copeland broke the window as a warning. He wanted them shut down.”

  “So you’re saying Copeland knew Gina was involved in puppy mills? Why would Gina tell him? She didn’t let Mel in on it, and as far as I can tell, those two were closer than Gina and Copeland.”

  “I don’t think Gina was the one who told him.”

  “Who then?”

  Dainsworth wore a smug smile. “I think Zoom told Blast and Blast told Copeland.”

  “Seriously?” This was too much. Now it was Randi’s turn to push her chair back.

  “Zoom told me a story. That’s the part you haven’t heard.”

  “A story? What’d he do, set you down in a chair to make sure you were comfy before he regaled you with his tale of woe?” This time her mother didn’t bother giving her dirty looks.

  “Actually, we were both on the sofa.”

  She had to hand it to him. This guy was good. If he wasn’t delusional, he should hightail it to Hollywood. “Okay, I’ll bite. What did he ‘say’ to you?”

  “He told me about a poodle found with one of her puppies matted to the fur beneath her belly. The mom had to drag the puppy everywhere. It was stuck like Velcro.”

  “Dead?” her mother whispered.

  “Dead.”

  Randi thought about the picture of the puppies in the blue bucket. The ones who hadn’t made it out. Some of those dogs had been papillons. She wanted her mother to hear it from Dainsworth. “What breeds of dogs are typically bred at the mills? Are papillons one of them?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother stood; didn’t look so good. She wasn’t stupid.

  “Mom, did you ever see Jojo’s breeder?”

  She turned, staring out the window into the night. “No. Gina picked her up for me.”

  “Why?”

  “She said the breeder was a recluse and the place wasn’t open to the public.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Randi’s first stop at home was the bathroom. Decaf or not, Dainsworth’s coffee had run right through. The door cracked open as she washed her hands and Shane’s nose appeared, followed by the rest of his body. He slunk in, wagged his tail, and nuzzled her leg. Normally he had no qualms about busting in on her. “What’s up, buddy?”

  Her mother shrieked. She stood beside the bunk beds, hands plastered to her skull as if to block the sound of her own yelling.

  What was wrong with her? There was no blood, no visible wounds. “Mom! Are you okay?”

  Her arms fell to her sides. “Jojo’s gone!”

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “I mean gone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure!”

  “How can that be?” Randi lifted the edge of the comforter on the bottom bunk.

  “I already checked under the bed!”

  She let the cover drop. “I understand you’re upset, but you don’t have to snap at me.” She grabbed a flashlight and, on her knees, peered beneath the bottom bunk. The little dog had to be here somewhere.

  Plenty of dust, a couple of pennies, and some paper clips on the floor. No Jojo tucked against the back corner. Randi stood, slapping the dirt from her jeans. “I don’t get it. It’s not like someone could have waltzed in and snatched her. Did you lock up on your way out tonight?”

  “I thought you did.”

  “How could I? You were the last one out.”

  “So I didn’t lock the door. Big deal.” Her mother circled, a crazy look in her eyes. “Jojo didn’t open it by herself.”

  Randi hit the porch light. “She might have run outside when you came in. Maybe you two just missed each other somehow.” She stepped onto the wide wooden planks. A quick search behind the two patio chairs and the swinging bench turned up nothing.

  Her mother joined
her. “Jojo! Come! Come on, sweetie-pie. Come to mama.” Bracing her hands on her thighs, she bent over as if in pain and lifted her eyes to Randi’s. “Think, Miranda. Did you see her when you came inside?”

  “I wasn’t paying attention. All I did was make a beeline for the bathroom.”

  “You’re not being much help.” Her mother clattered down the porch steps and sprinted for the darkened orange grove, yelling Jojo’s name. If the dog were out there the panic in her mother’s voice could easily drive her deeper into the brush on the opposite side of the grove.

  A chunk of black and white fur snagged on an errant branch poked its way between the railing posts next to the steps. The white part was dotted with blood. Randi stuffed the fur in her pocket. Not a good sign. Not good at all. Her mother didn’t need to see this.

  From up on the hill, Luke’s door slammed. Thirty seconds later he came down the gravel driveway at a jog. He slowed as he approached the porch, mist rolling in on his heels. “Are you two okay? I heard yelling.”

  “It’s Jojo.” Her mother emerged from the grove. “I can’t find her. She’s disappeared. I should have listened to Randi. She wanted to take the dogs to Dylan’s with us. She had a feeling something bad was going to happen tonight and it did. She was right.”

  The first time her mother ever said she was right and she couldn’t even gloat.

  Luke closed the distance and took her mother by the shoulders. “Don’t worry. Jojo couldn’t have wandered far.”

  Her mother put her face in her hands. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Let’s check the property. We’ll split up and cover more ground.”

  Randi held up the piece of fur so only Luke could see it, then pointed to the bush. Luke indicated he understood. “I’ll check the road first.”

  Her mother’s face fell as Luke headed up the driveway. “Oh, God. What if she ran into the street? It’s so dark and those cars go so fast.”

  Randi ducked inside to get a couple of flashlights. What would Luke do if, God forbid, he found Jojo dead on the side of the road? As a vet, animal death wasn’t uncommon territory, but telling Lee Ann Sterling her dog had just been run over would be a whole different ballgame.