Fear on Four Paws

by Clea Simon

  “That little weasel knows more than he’s letting on.” The words rang like an echo in my head.

  Growler had said that, picking up on the scents I carried. And while I’d been thinking of Larry, I’d made the same mistake I was always warning myself against. Growler wasn’t using a metaphor. He didn’t mean Larry. He meant Frank, whom I had also spoken with that morning—and whose musky aroma would certainly be more distinctive and probably more revealing than that of one scared and clueless man.

  “He doesn’t know. He can’t know.” The words came back to me, with new meaning. I had thought that the ferret was talking about Albert’s general cluelessness. His inability to see his sleek pet as anything more. But the ferret was alert and aware, as any smaller animal must be. He’d been awake when Albert had been passed out. And although he had been trapped in the car that morning, he did have the run of Albert’s home—and Albert’s office.

  If, say, Albert had picked up something—something that might implicate him—Frank would understand that it was dangerous and try to keep his person away. Even if it was something shiny. Something that Albert might, like his pet, consider a treat. Something a ferret would do his best to hide, tucked away in a box.

  Chapter Forty-three

  I drove like a fury back to the office. Yes, I was angry about my knife. But mainly I was pissed off—at Albert, at myself. At Creighton, for following the rules. At the stupid, useless greed that had already caused so much pain.

  My tires announced me before I was parked, and my engine was ticking as I pulled open the front door. For a moment, though, I wavered. I could go left and see Creighton. Put this whole thing to rest—and clear my name, while I was at it. Or I could go right, into the office, and interrogate the witness myself. Because if Albert was gone—taken or on the lam—only one creature would be able to give me anything like a lead.

  There was no question, really, although I did look back over my shoulder—my entrance had to have been audible in Creighton’s office—as I unlocked the Animal Control office.

  The bellow that greeted me made me jump back a foot. The sound—a very unferret-like roar—emanated from a flailing bulk, like a landed walrus. Feet, I made the connection, and belly, as, behind the desk, Albert regained his balance along with his consciousness and righted himself.

  “Pru!” He sat up, blinking. “I thought I—uh...”

  “You did.” I held up my keys. Yeah, I was relieved to see him unharmed. That didn’t mean I was going to go easy on him. “I’m covering for you. Remember?”

  “Yeah, right.” He stroked his mop of hair, as if to groom. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  I nodded. That didn’t surprise me. Then again, Albert had the ability to sack out anywhere. But I didn’t have time for the niceties. Neither, I figured, did he. “Did you see Frank?”

  “What?” More blinking, and this time I didn’t wait. Walking around his desk, I reached and opened the bottom drawer, sighing with relief when a familiar triangular head popped out.

  “Hey, Frank.” I kept my voice level. He’d be able to read my mood easily enough, and I didn’t need Albert butting in. I had too many questions to clear up before someone came over from the cop shop.

  “He’s free! He’s here!” The little beast appeared understandably excited, and Albert giggled like a little girl as his pet ran out to nuzzle his bristling beard. There was something underlying the ferret’s agitation, however.

  “I’m glad Creighton let you out.” I was speaking as much to the flustered ferret as the man. Neither was paying me full attention, though, and I didn’t have much time. “I think I’ve figured it all out.”

  “Huh?” Albert turned toward me, mouth open in confusion. “I didn’t see Jim.”

  “No! No!” The ferret jumped down to the desktop and ran to the edge. Nose twitching in the air, he was doing his best to reach me. To explain that his person wasn’t simply freed from the cage next door. He was—

  “Maybe you didn’t realize you’d picked up evidence,” I continued, interrupting the ferret’s emotional outpouring. “Maybe you didn’t even know what this meant.”

  I opened my palm then, revealing the diamond-studded cufflink I’d found in the ferret’s tackle box cache.

  “What?” Albert sat up, blinking. “I never—I mean, yeah, I found that.”

  “No! No, you didn’t!” Frank leaped to the floor and ran up to me, sniffing the air eagerly. “I did! Mine! It’s mine!”

  “If I could find it, others could have, too.” I stared down at the button black eyes. Panic, pain, and a deep sense of sadness came to me, and while I wished I could soothe the little creature’s distress, I knew the only way out of this was through full disclosure. “And he—or his henchmen—wouldn’t take the time to ask questions.”

  “Wha?” Albert’s obvious confusion stopped me. I had questions of my own—but then I realized what the problem was.

  “Henchmen,” I explained, biting down on the word. “You know, toughs. Someone like Jack Walz doesn’t do his own dirty work.” Even as I said it, the missing parts started to fall into place. I should have known as soon as I’d seen the sparkling little circle that it was a cufflink and that it had to belong to one man—the only man in this town who would wear his money on his sleeve: Jack Walz. Now I realized why he’d needed me to be at his place yesterday, and why he kept me so long at our appointment.

  I was his alibi while Ronnie was being mauled by a bear.

  All of the variables flooded my brain. The fibers in my knife—the compromised snare—a call to the state police, to make sure my law-abiding beau didn’t let me slide. Was I going to be framed, or was this somehow going to fall on Albert, once he’d been released?

  What I couldn’t figure in was Greg’s observation—that whoever had been behind all this had significant local knowledge. Walz wasn’t working alone. But with Paul Lanouette dead and Ronnie in the hospital, I was running out of ideas. Larry Greeley—well, I knew now what he was up to. Mack—that job in Pittsfield? No, as much as my ex had let me down, I didn’t see him as the type to get involved in something this violent. He’d have a long way to go before I ever trusted him again, but the man I’d seen at Happy’s was trying to get himself straight.

  I didn’t have time. We didn’t have time. “Albert?” I used my best command voice. “Who else was out there, that day?”

  “I—” He began to stutter, but it was too late. Just then, the door pushed open and I looked up to see Chuck Carroll, Creighton’s deputy, burst in, his face set in anger.

  “This came from the scene of Paul Lanouette’s murder.” I held out the cufflink. I couldn’t defend my driving, and from Chuck’s thundercloud expression it was obvious I couldn’t wait for Creighton, either. “It belongs to Jack Walz.”

  “Really?” He stepped toward me and reached for the small, gaudy thing. I scrambled to come up with an explanation—one that didn’t involve a ferret stealing from his person and then hiding evidence to keep him safe—as I waited for Chuck to ask me where I’d found it. Who had had it, and what it might mean. After all, his territory was the new part of town. Instead, he slipped the little golden disk into his pocket and looked up at me, his face breaking into a smile. A smile I’d seen before. At Happy’s, talking to Ronnie.

  “You.” I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

  “What?” Albert turned from the deputy to me and back again.

  “The knife.” I swallowed. “My knife. You planted it in Albert’s apartment during the search.”

  The fat man’s head swiveled, his mouth open wide.

  The deputy’s grin widened. “Interesting you found that.” A smile as cold as a shark’s. “I bet we’ll find evidence on it—traces of rope and leather—linking it the trap that gave way. Poor Ronnie.”

  Albert’s eyes were saucers.

  “Chuck’s the co
nnection.” I said as much for myself as to enlighten him. “The man on the ground who’s been organizing everything.” Suddenly, even Albert’s inarticulate protests made sense. His refusal to talk while in custody. His fear. “He released you today, too. Didn’t he?”

  “Yes, I did.” Chuck cut in. “We’re hoping he’ll lead us to his boss. To whoever was holding out—holding this.” He patted his pocket. “Of course, we can’t be responsible for what happens then.”

  He stepped closer and I felt time slow. Backing up, I reached behind me, almost as if I had stumbled. Balancing myself by reaching backward, as if for the desk.

  “Son of a—”

  I had a knife, my knife back again. But he had pulled a gun. And while I was sure that Creighton would question its use, I couldn’t be certain I’d be around to explain. I dropped the knife that I had slipped into my hand.

  “That’s enough,” said the deputy. His smile was unnerving, even though I now knew what it meant. He pulled his cuffs from his belt and stepped toward me. “I think we need to go for a ride to discuss things. All three of us.”

  I swallowed hard. I had an idea of what would follow.

  “Maybe we’ll take your car,” he said. “Everyone knows how you like to drive.” And I knew for sure.

  I was thinking fast. I knew I couldn’t get in a car with this man—not any car, but especially not mine. With my reputation, it would be too easy to stage an accident. I didn’t know what they had used on the bear, but I had a bad feeling that some strong sedatives were involved—and this man wouldn’t hesitate to use them on me. But just as he reached to fix the cuff around my wrist, he stumbled and then kicked out.

  “What? No!” Bouncing back on one leg, he glanced down and kicked. And as Frank flew off—teeth still bared for the bite—I saw my moment. I leaped, carrying Chuck to the ground.

  We landed hard. He’d been off balance and my weight had his body pinned. But not his arms. Too late, I saw the hypodermic. Felt the jab through my sleeve. And even as I drew breath to scream—to yell for Creighton, for Albert, for anyone—the world shrank to a pinprick. As it whirled, I saw Frank, a giant foot, and flying furniture, and then all was gone.

  Chapter Forty-four

  I swear it was Albert’s breath that brought me back. I opened my eyes to see him staring down at me, and, yes, I shrieked.

  “It’s okay, Pru!” A dirty hand replaced the face as he pulled back and then pointed. “I hit him with the chair.”

  “You what?” I sat up. My head was swimming. A needle still hung from my arm, its plunger only partway depressed. I pulled it out with a curse and struggled to my feet. Sure enough, the deputy was laid out flat on the floor, Albert’s upended desk chair by his head.

  “I was so mad.” Albert’s face was red as he stared down at the prone man. “He kicked Frank! I mean, an animal! He kicked a poor defenseless animal.”

  Nevermind what he did to me—what he was going to do. I closed my eyes and thought of the bear. Albert was a work in progress, but maybe we could make an honest animal control officer of him yet.

  “Whoa, Pru!” I felt a hand on my arm and pulled back, nearly tumbling over. Clearly whatever I’d been injected with was going to be with me for a while.

  “Sorry.” I shook my head. A mistake, but I managed to make it over to the desk. “Wait.” I blinked. “Where’s Frank?”

  “Here!” The ferret popped up. He’d been sniffing his tormenter, who was now groaning and beginning to stir. “Not dead.”

  “No, he isn’t.” I smiled, then saw how confused Albert was. “Sorry.” I raised my hand to my forehead. I felt like I’d been the one decked. “I guess I’m a little loopy. But, Albert, what happened—what really happened that day?”

  He shook his head so slowly I had to wonder if he’d been drugged too.

  “I wish I knew,” he said. “I wasn’t even in on the job, you know? I was just tagging along with Paul and Ronnie. It was hot, and we were drinking. Paul was getting cranky, and then Chuck showed up and he and Paul got into it. Paul was going on about how he was doing all the hard work, moving the bear, and I guess I fell asleep—”

  He stopped short, aware of what he’d just let slip.

  “So you knew about the bear.” My head was beginning to clear. It was also starting to throb. What had Chuck given me?

  Albert shrugged. “It wasn’t like they were going to hurt it. It was going to a collector, or something.” I had no words. “Paul wasn’t getting any work. I mean, I’ve got this.” He opened his hands, taking in the room. Animal Control in Beauville, and I knew then I couldn’t take this from Albert. It was all he had. This and—

  A squeal made us both turn. Chuck was standing, a scowl on his face. In one fist, he held Frank, extended away from his body. I didn’t know how he’d managed to grab the ferret, but I could feel the wordless panic—the rage, the fear—as the agile beast flipped and strained, desperate to bite his tormentor. In his other hand, Chuck held his gun.

  “No.” I fought the temptation to close my eyes again. Maybe if I hadn’t been dopey, I would have thought to secure the weapon. Maybe if Albert weren’t Albert, he’d have picked it up. And Frank? Well, the ferret had already done what he could, once before.

  “Drop it, Chuck.” The voice as calm as coffee made us all turn. Jim Creighton stood at the door, his own service weapon in his hand. “You know this is over.”

  “Jim—” His deputy made a strangled sound.

  “Drop the gun,” said Creighton once more. “Drop it, and kick it toward me. And then you can put the ferret down, too.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  “What kept you?” I was irritable. Hospitals affect me that way, and I’d been lying in the bed being poked and prodded for over an hour by then. “You were almost too late.”

  “I bet you’d have figured something out,” said my beau. The warmth had returned to his voice, and he leaned back in his chair like someone who’s done a hard day’s work. “But since you asked, I was answering a complaint call—about you.”

  “My driving?” It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “More like animal cruelty.” Creighton laughed at my obvious annoyance, and explained. “Jack Walz wasn’t too clear on the details, and I had the distinct impression that he simply wanted to hold me there, listening to him complain as long as possible.”

  “As long as was necessary.” My lids were growing heavy. I really wanted to get home, not that I thought I could drive right now. “While Chuck cleaned up the mess.”

  “Something like.”

  I opened my eyes. “Chuck killed Paul, didn’t he?”

  A nod. “Walz is behind it, though. He may not have ordered Chuck to kill Paul. But he did tell him to rough him up. Best I can tell, Chuck either waited till Ronnie had left or sent him home. Albert had already passed out by then. Paul had been threatening to blackmail Walz, and Walz thought he had his missing cufflink. That somehow Paul was going to use that to place him at the camp.

  “Maybe he was.” My honey looked bemused. “I can’t see anyone wearing diamond cufflinks out in the woods, no matter how rich. But whether Walz was that careless or Paul stole it earlier and brought it out there to frame him doesn’t matter. Paul didn’t have it. Albert had picked it up by then—claims he ‘found’ it, then lost it again.” Silence, as he waited, curious. I wasn’t going to give up Frank, though. Not when the ferret had been doing his best to hide the evidence and protect his person.

  “At any rate,” Creighton began again, “I gather things got out of hand. Paul probably wouldn’t have given it up anyway. He was a big guy, and neither of those two were the kind to back away from a fight. Chuck either got around behind him and hit him with something or Paul fell on a rock on his own—the coroner wasn’t clear. At any rate, Chuck panicked. Locked Paul’s body in the shed lest Albert woke up, and hightailed it back to town. To his shi
ft.”

  He paused, the bitterness showing in the lines around his mouth. He swallowed it and continued. “Walz must have sent him back. Told him to clean it up. Find that cufflink and get rid of anyone who could talk. He’d been lucky in that they’d snared another bear.”

  Not luck, the spring behavior of young males. The thought jumped into my fuzzy head. Now wasn’t the time for a lecture on animal behavior though. Creighton, for once, was still talking.

  “Chuck had your knife. I gather he’d picked it up a few nights ago, thinking it might be useful.” Those blue eyes were piercing. “Maybe he would have used it on Ronnie, if there’d been nothing in the trap. Claim you and Ronnie had a fight or something, but when he saw that another bear had been snared, he got creative. Cut the ropes almost through, and called Ronnie to go check on it, then left the knife where one of us would find it. I knew—well, I suspected something like that. That’s why I wanted to hold Albert. I should’ve picked up Ronnie, too, only I couldn’t find him in time.”

  “Spring.” My eyes were growing heavy, but I caught the quizzical tilt of Creighton’s head. “Young males, looking for territory.” I could have been talking about the bears. “Walz confess?”

  A terse shake. “Not yet. Said he had met Chuck on his rounds and hired him for protection, so it isn’t his fault things got out of hand.”

  He fell silent. We both know that wouldn’t hold up in court. But the tickle of an idea wouldn’t let me rest. “Walz was wrong,” I said. “The cufflink—I don’t know when Albert found it, but I don’t think he got it from Paul. He—well, he has a tendency to pick things up.” Now that push came to shove, I felt protective of the man.

  “Nobody should be killed over a cufflink.” I didn’t think I had to worry about Albert. Not right now. “By the way, what did you have on Larry? I gather he was helping you.”

  I smiled, and let myself sink back into the pillows. “I’m not telling,” I said—or thought I did. Sleep was coming on strong. “Just…no more pets are going to go missing over in the new part of town.”