Fear on Four Paws

by Clea Simon

  “I was wondering if you’d heard anything more about that trap.”

  “The trap?” That hadn’t been on my list. “You know Creighton’s holding Albert, right?”

  “I heard.” A sigh. “But I’m looking ahead.”

  I didn’t understand, and I let him know. If he thought I had insight into the criminal investigation because of Creighton, he should know better.

  “No,” he said. “I really was thinking about the bear. I mean, we got lucky with that one.”

  “Yeah,” I nodded as we spoke. If I hadn’t been trying to track down Albert, we probably never would have known about the trap. Or, maybe, Paul Lanouette. “But the animal was healthy, right? He’s got a good chance now that he’s free.”

  “I’m not worried so much about him as the next one.”

  He heard the question in my silence.

  “Pru, I’ve been thinking.” I waited. “That bear was trapped for a reason. I mean, someone wanted it.”

  “You said, maybe for a private hunt?”

  “I’ve been doing some reading. That’s still a possibility, but the trade journals have been noting a growing number of private zoos too.”

  “Here?” There had been a case, recently. I had thought it was a one-off. “In Beauville?”

  “I doubt anyone here would care about a black bear.” His voice sunk into a growl. “But there’s big money in it internationally, and a growing domestic market. It fits with the animal being taken alive.” He paused. “That’s why I’m worried.”

  “You think there’s more of this going on.” If I hadn’t taken that call…

  “At the very least, I think it’s likely that animal was trapped for someone—for a client. We managed to free it. But if someone ordered a live bear…”

  “If they have any sense, they’ll hire a more competent crew.” I couldn’t help it. The words just slipped out.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” I heard him sigh. “So, Pru, I’d appreciate it if you hear anything…” Another sigh, and a pause a bit too long. “If you do, if you’d let me know?”

  “Of course.” Then it was my turn to pause. The silences had told me something more than the warden’s words. I took a breath, unsure of how to phrase what I needed to say. “Look, Greg. I grew up around here and I know—well, I know a lot of people.” Sometimes the best approach is a direct one. “But you’ve got to know that I’m always going to put animals first. I mean, I’ve got no loyalty toward anyone who would hurt an animal.”

  “I get it.” To do him credit, he sounded somewhat abashed. “And I’m sorry if I misread you. It’s only—I heard you were defending Albert, and it seems to me, this has the hallmarks of a local operation.”

  That caught me up, and I waited.

  “Think about it.” He sounded sad. “Someone knew about the camp. They knew who would be open to that kind of work.”

  “You don’t think Paul was behind it?” Albert had referred to one of his running buddy’s “deals.”

  “Paul might have been a middle man, but Paul’s dead. And Albert’s in the thick of it.”

  “Yeah, he is.” I thought of Frank and my heart sank. “Only, he’s much more a follower than a leader, and he certainly didn’t kill anyone.”

  The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes. I waited it out, though, and when Greg spoke again, it was clear he was weighing his words carefully.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “But keep in mind, the illicit animal trade is big business—and big money will make a lot of people do things they wouldn’t ordinarily consider.”

  It didn’t even have to be big money, not with the way things were going in Beauville these days. Jobs were scarce, and too many locals were barely scraping by. I counted myself in that category, and after Greg rang off, I found myself staring out the front window. The trees were green now, but soon enough they’d be bare and cold—and I’d have this old heap to heat again. What if Albert went away? Would I be happy taking over this gig? The regular hours would be odd, but I suspected I could keep my freelance clients and nobody would complain. The regular paycheck would be welcome. That was for sure.

  What other options did I have? Greg hadn’t mentioned the posting in his department again. That didn’t mean it didn’t exist. The man was sensitive enough to have picked up on my reluctance. Still, if I did choose to pursue it...

  “Or pursue him...” Wallis twined around my feet. “Or entice him to pursue...” The way she rolled the “r” left me in no doubt about her intent.

  “I don’t know, Wallis.”

  “You don’t want to think about it, you mean.”

  She was right, and I let her have the last word. Besides, I had clients to see to. I was heading out the door when my cell rang. Susan Felicidad’s name showed up. For a moment, I considered not answering. I’d see her and Bunbury only the day before. But then I remembered why our appointment had been postponed. I owed her and her feline, whether they knew it or not.

  “Good morning.” I locked the door behind me. A city habit, but it no longer seemed so strange. “Are you calling about our appointment?”

  “Oh, no, no.” She sounded breathless and I paused, fearing that something had happened to her smart little cat. “It’s Coco.”

  “Coco?” I could do little more than repeat the word back to her in my confusion. The woman had introduced her cat as Spot. When she’d caught me using Bunbury’s real name out loud, she’d seemed amenable to changing it. Had she revised it yet again? If so, it was a wonder that spotted cat was as stable as he seemed.

  “Oh, yes, Coco. My neighbor’s toy poodle. She’s gone missing.”

  “Wait, what?” As relieved as I was to hear that poor Bunbury hadn’t been given yet another moniker, this was alarming. City people didn’t have much sense, but how many pets had gone missing? “Did she let Coco out?”

  “Yes, but there’s something else.” She paused, and I got the distinct impression that she was steeling herself to say something terrible. “Merilee—my neighbor—well, she fears something happened. She says—she swears—that a few minutes after she let Coco out, she heard a yelp.”

  “I’ll be right over,” I said. Not that it would make a difference. If a coyote or some other predator had grabbed Coco, there was precious little I could do about it. Susan Felicidad knew it too. I could hear it in her voice—a steeliness I didn’t associate with the average garden-happy widow. Well, one of the reasons we hire professionals is to break the news we don’t want to have to speak aloud ourselves.

  I was trying out various phrases as I drove. If I said, “I’m afraid,” would that give her too much hope? Should I be more direct: “It’s most likely...”

  Before I got there, though, I had less trying logistics to work out. Tracy Horlick was on speed dial, but I still took a deep breath before I hit her name.

  “Mrs. Horlick, it’s Pru.” I began to talk before she could start with the complaints. “I’m sorry to call so early, but I’m going to be delayed today. I have an emergency.”

  It wasn’t that early. I would usually be heading over to her place now, but it seemed politic to offer her a sop. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I rang off, catching her in mid-complaint. She’d let loose with both barrels when I saw her, but that was the least of my worries. One way or another, Coco’s fate would be clear by then.

  The next call was more challenging. Scrolling down the numbers on my phone, I found Walz’s and hit dial.

  “Mr. Walz.” I had him on speaker. “I’m afraid I will need to postpone. I’ve had an emergency call—”

  “Well, really!” His voice rose in surprise and, I suspected, annoyance.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, but I’m the acting animal control officer, and we’ve had an incident.” I was explaining, not apologizing. He might choose to be dominant, but I didn’t wan
t to give a man like him too much.

  “This is unacceptable.” That shut me up. Usually, normal human beings understand things like emergencies.

  “I’m sorry. A dog has gone missing, and that takes precedence.” I was about to hang up, when I heard him begin to backtrack.

  “Wait, wait, I’m sorry.” He did sound bothered, I’d give him that. “It is simply that—well, I’ve structured my whole morning around your visit. But put that aside,” he grumbled. I waited, curious to hear what he’d offer. “I’ve already arranged to be at home all morning. Why don’t you drop by whenever you can manage?”

  That was, I suspected, as gracious as he could be. “That sounds perfect, Mr. Walz. I’ll give you a call when I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  I slowed as I pulled into the new development. On the off chance that the missing dog was running loose, I might be able to pick up her confusion or fear. Over time, I’ve learned how to shut out some of the ruckus around me, and as I drove I intentionally tuned out the noise of nesting birds—“we’re here! We’re here!—and smaller mammals already looking ahead to the end of summer’s bounty—“Quick! Quick! Eat it up!”

  Despite Wallis’ claim that the ability to do this comes quickly to the youngest kitten, I still found it a challenge. There was so much urgency in these short lives, and I was afraid of missing something that mattered.

  “Quick, here!” I jammed on the brakes, only to find myself face-to-face with a startled squirrel. Only after I realized the matter of great import involved acorns and a greedy possum did I relax, and let the fuzzy-tailed creature go about his day.

  “What are you doing? No! No!” A robin warning off a blue jay, her angry defense fortified by her mate, who chose that moment to dive-bomb the marauding invader.

  Maybe it was just as well I hadn’t finished my coffee. I was clearly on edge. In large part, that was because of my errand. I didn’t have a good feeling about this poodle, based on what Susan Felicidad had said. What Greg had told me was also weighing on me. A client. I hadn’t thought through what had brought Albert into the woods, nor what kind of “deal”—that had been Albert’s word—had gotten his buddy Paul killed.

  I flashed back to my time in the city. I’d lived in a kind of iffy neighborhood for a while, the kind of place where my nocturnal ramblings weren’t taken much note of. Even though I was there by choice, I knew a lot of people weren’t. I was a newcomer—a tourist, in a way—and that insulated me from much of what was going on. But I’d seen the kids on the corner. Too young to do hard time if they were arrested, they weren’t too young to fall victim to violence, when someone else wanted that corner for their own. Albert wasn’t a child, far from it. In his own way, though, he might be as innocent. One man was already dead. No, when big money wanted something, it was best to stay out of the way.

  “Let me go! Let me go!” For a moment, I thought the cry was a memory. I remembered one boy, no more than ten, who’d been grabbed up. I couldn’t remember if he was taken by the cops or by a rival gang, and I realized how much that bothered me. How I wished I had gotten involved or intervened. “Home!”

  That did it—that cry wasn’t a memory. I braked and jumped out of the car. If what I’d heard was the poodle, she was still alive—alive and struggling. The question was: where?

  I’d come to a halt on the edge of the development. To my left a block of new houses stood, their lawns allowing little cover for a hunt. To my right, however, lay the strip of woods that gave the area its name—scenic greenery that would also hide a hunting animal and his prey.

  “Coco!” I called. Perhaps the poodle had run off seeking adventure and even now was holding off something larger and, most likely, confused. “Come, girl! Coco!”

  Nothing. I made myself breathe, taking heart in the silence. Surely, if a death blow had been dealt, I’d have heard a last cry. Unless the poodle had been carried off, beyond my hearing but not beyond scent.

  I looked over at my car. If I drove over to Susan Felicidad’s house, I could borrow Bunbury. Maybe even get Walz’s husky—Urso.

  Only whatever I had heard was close by, and that cry had been urgent. As much as I wanted the use of a better nose than my own, I didn’t dare risk losing the trail, so I began to walk up the street, flanking the woods—and to whistle. Domestic animals respond to human voices. It’s something about the timbre. But a whistle carries farther, especially in dense foliage.

  “Where are you, Coco?” I imagined the question, visualizing possible answers as I walked. If I only had some help…

  There, off to the left, two blocks up, a truck was parked by the curb. Dark green with a familiar logo. “Ronnie?” I called and waved. Nothing

  With a last glance over at the forested strip, I bolted toward the truck. Ronnie would be better than nobody, I thought. At the very least, I could send him to fetch Bunbury.

  “Hey!” I called again as I got near. “Ronnie, you there?”

  “What?” Larry Greeley stuck his head out of the cab, craning back at me. “Hey, Pru. What’s up?”

  “Emergency.” I didn’t take the time to catch my breath. “Lost dog. I need you to get help.” I gave him Susan Felicidad’s address and explained what I wanted, pointing out the street one block away. He’d been doing enough business around here he probably knew the street, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Hey, if he did me a solid on this, I’d be happy to recommend him.

  “Sure, sure thing.” He nodded. I didn’t know if he’d ever seen me flustered, but it had gotten his attention. “I’ll be right back.”

  Even before the engine had turned over, I was dashing back to where I’d heard that cry. “Coco!” I called, all the while straining every nerve to catch something—anything—that might come back in response.

  “What? What?” The truck’s rumble—it needed a new muffler—had disturbed a rabbit. “Who’s there?”

  “Lucky bunny.” I shook my head. It was a strange day when a rabbit escaped while a dog was grabbed. Then again, the poodle might have been led astray by the scent of that rabbit. We live in a complicated world.

  “Coco?” I had crossed over to the forested side of the street by then, trampling through the low brush in my search. “Are you there?”

  Nothing. My clumsy passage had scared off most of the smaller animals. The ones who remained were hunkered down, holding their breath—and their thoughts—until I passed. Still, I stayed on guard, stopping to listen every few steps. It wasn’t until I heard a car pull up beside me that I stopped and turned back toward the road.

  “Ms. Marlowe!” Susan Felicidad stepped out of her Toyota, waving. “There you are!”

  I turned toward her, my heart sinking. She was alone. I should have known Larry Greeley would have been unable to convey a simple message.

  “Mrs. Felicidad.” I met her on the sidewalk. Despite the evidence of all my other senses, I craned to see into her car. “Did you bring Spot?”

  “Oh, no.” Her words were at odds with the big smile on her face. “I know, you sent that nice young man, but, you see there was no need.”

  I searched her face, at a loss for words.

  “Coco came home,” she said, to my obvious puzzlement. “She just came bounding out of the hedges like she’d been hiding in there all along.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  “She came home?”

  The smile on her face confirmed the news I was parroting back. Granted, this was the third time I’d asked, but the answer still made no sense.

  “And your neighbor had called for her?”

  “Yes, I guess she just didn’t hear Merilee. Or, maybe…” The smile faded into a look of bemusement, “maybe she simply found something more interesting than one old lady.”

  I couldn’t answer. This wasn’t the behavior of any pet I knew. Something was wrong. “If I may, I’d like to speak to her.
” I caught myself. “To your neighbor, I mean.”

  “Of course.” The smile was back. “She was very grateful for your prompt response. And that nice young man you sent over—does he work with you often?”

  “No.” I snapped and caught myself. No sense in alienating a client. “We know each other. Beauville being a small town and all.”

  She nodded. “So I see. I gather he also does landscaping.”

  That was a fancy word for it, but Larry had come to my aid, and so I nodded. “Lawns.” Simpler was better. “I’m guessing he’s explaining his services to your neighbor now?”

  “Oh, no.” She brushed off the suggestion. “He understood that she was in no condition.”

  That didn’t sound right to me. A vulnerable woman? A chance to make some money? And Larry Greeley was passing it up? But the merry widow misread my silence.

  “I’m sure if you want to come by, though, she’d be happy to speak with you. After all, you did go searching.”

  “Thanks.” I wanted to speak to Coco, but the phone buzzing in my pocket reminded me that I had other obligations. “I can’t right now. Would you give me her number?”

  “Her number?” A musical laugh. “Lord knows. She’s the green house two down from mine. Just come by. I’m sure she’ll be there.”

  “Thanks.” Relief affects people in different ways. Still, I had to wonder.

  “By the way,” she said, as I turned back toward my car. “I’m dying to know what brought you out here.” She gestured to the spread of trees, but she kept her eyes on me. “I mean, this is blocks from where we live.”

  “Parameter,” I said, with as much authority as I could. I was ready to go further. To come up with some explanation about starting at the woods and working back, but it wasn’t to be. Susan Felicidad just smiled that enigmatic smile.

  “Of course,” she said, as she returned to her own set of wheels.