Traitorous Toys (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 2)

by Mildred Abbott

  I did a double take when I noticed Paulie and Flotsam and Jetsam at the playground across the street. When he’d suggested meeting at a park, I’d pictured a dog park, or at least a large area with trees, open space, and paths. This was a kids’ playground, and a tiny one at that. Though I supposed it was my own fault; he’d clearly said meet at the park close to the intersection of Elkhorn Avenue and East Riverside Drive, down by the river. It was in the middle of shops. I supposed I just hadn’t been thinking. Well, one more plausible excuse. Watson needed to run, get out his energy.

  I nearly snorted out a laugh at the thought. Watson and I had the same outlook on running. Something dangerous needed to be chasing us, or there had to be a really good meal at the finish line. Other than that, he’d sooner help unbox books than run.

  Paulie waved frantically as we crossed the street, like we couldn’t see him. Both Flotsam and Jetsam followed suit and bounded at the end of their leashes.

  Watson whimpered.

  “I know, buddy. I know. Maybe ten minutes.”

  As we drew nearer, both the corgis crashed into Watson and me, and Paulie pulled me into a hug. In truth, the hug wasn’t very effective as he still had a hand on each of the hyperactive dogs’ leashes, but I was grateful, as it made it shorter, even if a touch more awkward. “Fred, it’s so nice of you to join us for a playdate. I didn’t expect you to show up. I’ve tried doggy playdates with a couple of other dog owners in town, and… well….”

  He looked such a combination of embarrassed and happy that I readjusted mentally. Fifteen minutes. A person could stand anything for fifteen minutes, right?

  For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Watson bashed into the back of my legs, saving me from having to figure it out. Looking down, Flotsam and Jetsam were still bounding up and down, this time frequently landing on Watson’s paws. Disentangling myself, I pulled Watson along with me and took a seat on one of the swings.

  It took Paulie a few seconds to follow as he untangled his corgis’ leashes, offering Watson a brief respite.

  “For some reason, I was picturing a dog park or something. I don’t know why, I’ve driven past this a million times, but there’s not much space for them, is there?”

  Paulie gave a little shrug, and even in the shadowy lights from the cloudy evening, I could make out embarrassment over his face. “Well. I thought you wouldn’t show. Like I said, that’s happened before. There is a dog park, but it’s a farther walk. So I thought we’d meet here, just in case you canceled, not so far to go.” His smile brightened. “But the next time, we can meet there.” The cheerfulness lasted a total of three seconds, and then his features crashed once more. “No, we can’t. Flotsam and Jetsam have been banned from that dog park.” He perked up again. I didn’t think I’d ever seen such speedy mood shifts. “But you could come to my house. Plenty of room for the dogs to play.”

  Oh dear Lord, so much for Christmas miracles. One of the other dogs bumped into Watson, he yelped and then growled, which was much sooner than he normally did with other corgis. But a perfect excuse. “Sorry, Paulie. As you can see, Watson really doesn’t get into playing all that much. He kinda just eats and sleeps and casts judgmental glances at other dogs and people walking by. That’s kind of his thing.”

  Paulie only looked daunted for a second. “Well, you could come over for dinner.” He must’ve seen the answer rising to my lips, and he rushed ahead. “You could bring Watson, of course. I could put Flotsam and Jetsam in my bedroom. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Dinner? And this was why I should’ve turned this down from the beginning, even if I would’ve felt guilty. I reached out to take his hand, then realized what I was doing and folded my hand in my lap over Watson’s leash. “Paulie. That’s very sweet, and you’re very…. That’s very sweet. But I want to be clear up front. I’m not looking for dates or a relationship. I have my hands full starting a business. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, no!” Paulie waved both his hands, causing Flotsam and Jetsam’s leashes to tremble, and setting them both off on a barking tirade. “I didn’t mean as a date. Goodness, I know you’re out of my league. Plus I hear you and Sergeant Wexler are an item. Course then I noticed you and that park ranger fellow outside of Carl and Anna’s the other day, so maybe not.”

  He’d just thrown so much information at me at once, that again I was speechless. He’d noticed me and Leo? And even Paulie Mertz had heard the rumors about Branson and me? This time I did reach out and put my hand over his, despite my better instincts. “Paulie, it has nothing to do with leagues or anything like that.” I pulled my hand back.

  He snorted, but it wasn’t a sarcastic sound. “Oh, please, Fred. You’re so far out of my league, it’s ridiculous. But I truly wasn’t asking for a date. I know I’m not really supposed to make friendships, but I’m just… lonely. I promise, that’s all.”

  I believed him. He truly did look lonely and sad. And seemed like he was hurting. Some of his words came back to me and struck me as odd. “What do you mean you’re not supposed to make friends? What kind of rule is that?”

  His eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t even mean to say that. Nothing. I just meant…” I could swear he was searching for something to say, some excuse. “Well, I don’t exactly fit in most places. My teeth are stained. I often smell like fish water from cleaning the aquariums. I get nervous and start to sweat, even in a snowstorm, and I frequently get nosebleeds.”

  There was growling and snapping at our feet, and I leaned forward ready to pull Watson to safety, but it was simply Flotsam and Jetsam playing together, apparently having finally given up on Watson developing a playful personality.

  That was a relief.

  I turned back to Paulie and placed my hand over his again. “Oh, Paulie. I couldn’t tell you were sweating, and I’ve never noticed you get a nosebleed.” As soon as the words left my lips, I realized that I’d addressed the wrong part of his statement. I should’ve argued against the yellow teeth and the smell of fish tank, but it was too late to try to cover that up. Plus, the man had a mirror. I couldn’t exactly tell him his teeth weren’t stained.

  Even so, he smiled like I’d just paid him the highest compliment.

  Despite the truth of his list of social faux pas, it still didn’t explain the friendship comment he’d made before. There was something there. But I didn’t push.

  I checked on Watson again. He seemed to be contentedly licking his paws as he continued to be forgotten by the other two corgis. I refocused on Paulie. “I’m sorry you’re having a difficult time. I know it’s hard being new in town.”

  He gave me a knowing look. “You’re much newer to town than I am, and you’re not making it look difficult.”

  Just as I was searching for something else to say, Watson let out another yelp, this one sounding like pain, and once more I was ready to pull him back from the others. But they weren’t bothering him. He gave his paw a lick, and then yelped again. I reached down, took the paw he’d been licking, and ran my fingers gently around it, feeling the pads. There was nothing, and Watson didn’t flinch as I touched his paw, like he would’ve if there was a thorn or splinter. His tongue darted out to lick his nose, and he let out another pain-filled yip, sneezed, and then yipped again. He was clearly hurting.

  My heart rate shooting up, I whipped off the swing and knelt in front of him. “What is it, sweetie? What’s wrong?”

  He let out another whimper of pain.

  I gently tried to lift his head to see into his mouth, but it was too dark. As I fished in my purse, trying to find my cell, Flotsam and Jetsam crashed into my back like I was playing.

  “Boys! Stop!” Paulie stood and pulled them away quickly, then tied them to a leg of the jungle gym, just out of reach, and then he was back. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine.” I found my cell, switched on the flashlight feature, and handed it to Paulie. “Would you hold this for me? Angle toward Watson’s mouth.”

  He did, a
nd in the light, I could see just how wild Watson’s eyes were. I’d never seen him look like that.

  I reached for his muzzle, attempted to raise the lip enough to see his teeth, to see if he had something cutting into him. He yelped in pain again and pulled his head away with a warning growl. I pulled my hand away, and my breath caught as I noticed blood over my fingertips. I looked up at Paulie. “Something’s wrong. I gotta get him to the vet. I have to go.”

  “Of course. Of course.” Paulie handed me my cell. “They’re closed by this time of night, but they have an emergency number, and I know the vet. Want me to call them and let them know you’re on your way?”

  Gratitude rushed over me. “Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you.” And then all my attention was on Watson. I took his leash and gave him a gentle pull. He stood tentatively and took a few steps, seemed pain-free, and then sneezed again. He howled in agony, then trailed off to a whimper.

  I bent down, scooped all thirty-three pounds of him into my arms, and ran as smoothly as I could to my car.

  The veterinarian, Dr. Sallee pulled into the parking lot moments behind me. Though we hadn’t met before, he didn’t bother with paperwork or formality, which I appreciated. He got the clinic up and running as he asked the expected information-seeking questions. Had Watson had an injury? Had there been some sort of impact? Had he been eating normally? Frequent and regular bowel movements? Was he up to date on shots?

  It wasn’t until we had Watson on his examining table that he asked the magic question. “Has he gotten into any trash recently?”

  “No, of course not.” I yanked my hair away that had fallen into my eyes, and felt close to tears. Then it came back to me. “Wait, yes. Probably… less than an hour ago, maybe half an hour ago. We were in the alley behind the T-shirt shop. Watson found leftover pizza.”

  “Pizza shouldn’t do that unless it was rancid. But then he’d be sick, not in pain.” Dr. Sallee refocused on Watson. “You’re sure his pain is from his mouth?”

  “Yes. That’s the only place. Nothing’s wrong with his feet. He doesn’t let on when I touch his belly or anything.”

  The vet refocused on Watson and reached out to touch his muzzle. Watson growled and tried to get away. “I’ll need you to hold him. If I can look in his mouth without him biting me, I will. Otherwise I’ll need to figure out a different way. I’d rather not give him sedation since we don’t know what’s happening.”

  Feeling like a traitor, I bent over the examining table and fixed Watson in place with my arms and body weight. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

  Watson struggled a little, but actually seemed more at ease with my presence around him. He snarled as Dr. Sallee reached for his muzzle again, but didn’t move to bite. Though there was a low grumbling growl radiating through him the entire time, he allowed the vet to lift his lips and inspect his gum.

  The vet’s voice was low enough I could barely hear it. “He’s bleeding, but I don’t see anything causing it. Nothing looks infected. But….” He cocked his head and leaned a little closer, then angled his light a different way. “What in the world…?” He retrieved a long tweezer and then was back, once more twisting his head, getting the lighting just right, as if he couldn’t quite see whatever it was, and then he darted the tweezers inside and pulled something nearly microscopic and bloody out of Watson’s mouth. He held it up between us, his eyes narrowed. “This was stuck in his gums. I’m not sure what it is.”

  I wasn’t either.

  After walking over to the sink, he filled a glass with water and then dipped the tweezers inside. He stirred it around, then pulled the object back out and returned it to the light between us. “I still have no idea.”

  “Neither do—” Dr. Sallee twisted the object slightly, and in so doing, the bright green of the shirt under his lab coat somehow reflected in it and I realized what it was. A shard from Noah and Jonah’s garland. “It’s fiberglass. It’s from Christmas garland.”

  He looked puzzled but only for a second, and then his eyes grew wide. “Oh, that flashy kind that a couple of the stores have up this year?”

  I nodded. “Exactly.”

  He grimaced. “Nasty stuff.” He stroked Watson’s head. “Who knows how long that’s been floating around in there just waiting for the chance to get stuck. Better check and see if there’s some more.”

  There were. Five other pieces. Three of them embedded, two caught in the folds of the skin of his inner cheek. The doctor also gave me a prescription that would help sweep away any fragments that might have entered Watson’s digestive tract.

  “Make sure he takes it easy tomorrow. And if you notice any changes at all, give me a call. I don’t predict anything happening, not with that medicine, but if there should be any bleeding or he’s not eating normally any time over the next three or four days, I want to know immediately. Even if it’s Christmas. Strange that he’d get into that.”

  Watson was asleep on the passenger seat when I pulled in front of the house. After sliding the car into Park, I stared at the twenty feet between us and the front porch. When I first moved to Estes, I was still such a city girl that I let Watson have free rein in the yard, just like I had in Kansas City. Then Leo mentioned how common it was for pets to be snagged by mountain lions and other wildlife, sometimes when right beside their human. Since then, we used a leash from car to cabin. We’d removed his collar at the veterinary office, and the thought of putting it back on with those stupid scratchy pieces of garland possibly in his throat was more than I could bear. But I also wasn’t willing to risk him walking by my side, this time of night especially.

  I got out of the car, walked around to the passenger side, and cracked open the door so Watson wouldn’t jump out if he woke up suddenly. Sure enough, his tired eyes opened and blinked at me. Wedging myself in, I opened the door a little farther, and wrapped my arms around him.

  Watson let out an annoyed huff as I lifted him, offered a halfhearted squirm, and then stilled, allowing me to carry him. “Oh, baby. You really don’t feel good, do you?” I was going to murder my brothers-in-law.

  Once inside, I closed the door with my foot and gently carried him over and placed him by the armchair, intending to light a fire and sit with him.

  Watson blinked again, looked around, and then stood. He gave a small stretch, and then padded off toward the bedroom. I followed. He curled up in his dog bed which was directly beside my four-poster. Then he let out a contented sigh.

  That made me feel better. If he had an opinion of where he wanted to sleep at that moment, he at least felt well enough to be himself. I lay on the floor, curled up beside him as best I could, and softly stroked his fur. I intended to lull him to sleep, letting him know he wasn’t alone. In less than two minutes, Watson glared at me through slitted eyes, gave a little huff, stood, and repositioned to lay the other direction.

  Laughing, I placed a quick kiss on the top of his head. “Yup, you’re going to be fine.”

  Even so, I knew sleep was a long way off. If it was going to come at all. The thoughts of fiberglass shards inside of him scared me to death. Thank goodness some had caught in his mouth, otherwise I might never have known until it was too late. I got onto the bed and curled on my side so I could keep watch over him.

  I couldn’t lose Watson. I just couldn’t. He’d quite literally walked into my life at one of my darkest moments since my father’s death. Came right up to me, shoved his little corgi forehead against mine as I knelt and sobbed, my hands covering my face. Looking back, it was such a completely un-Watson-like thing to do. From that moment on, things got better. I didn’t have any notion that my father had been reincarnated into the form of a corgi or any such nonsense, but I did feel like Dad had given me a gift. A reminder he was watching, that he loved me.

  It had been an added bonus that Watson possessed such a strong, and at times obstinate, personality. He was the kind of dog my father would’ve loved. He wasn’t one to try to impress. If anything, he e
xpected the opposite. It was up to the rest of the world to impress him. Dad would’ve liked that quality, and it only made me more certain that he’d picked Watson especially for me.

  I couldn’t lose Watson.

  As I lay there watching him, I realized I was actually a little angry with him, not unlike times I’d felt after my father had been murdered. Those ridiculous moments where I raged at him for having the audacity of getting killed, for leaving me and Mom. And now Watson, so stubborn about not eating dog food, demanding human food in all its forms, had decided to eat the world’s most deadly Christmas garland, of all things. It simply didn’t make any sense. None.

  Maybe if I had anything in my house or the shop, and some of it had broken off and fallen into his food and he hadn’t realized… it would make sense. But I didn’t have any of it. Maybe at my mother’s and Barry’s during family dinner? As soon as that thought entered, I let it go. That had been days before. He wouldn’t still have pieces floating around in his mouth. It had to be fresh, had to be today.

  Maybe it was in the pizza in the alley behind the toy store. They had the garland. Maybe they’d torn it all down and thrown it away and some had gotten into the pizza.

  The answer was so obvious, and it crashed into me so hard, that I simultaneously felt stupid and stunned. Not the pizza.

  The glove.

  I sat up. The large workmen’s glove Watson had been chewing on. The one with the red-stained pizza sauce on it.

  I drummed my fingers on the duvet as I thought, each new notion crashing like another wave over me. What if it wasn’t just pizza? What if it had been blood? I glanced down at Watson. He’d been chewing on the glove. If he’d gotten bits of the garland from the glove, then he just found what Declan’s murderer had used to help strangle him.

  By the dumpster? It seemed rather careless.