Fear on Four Paws
Page 24
In truth, I wasn’t sure what Larry could even have been charged with. His scam wasn’t kidnapping, per se. It wasn’t even dog—or catnapping. For one thing, he never asked for ransom, being content with the tens and twenties that the residents of Pine Hills gave out in gratitude. But what he’d been doing—luring vulnerable pets with treats and then grabbing them—had put animals at risk, even if he didn’t realize it. Not to mention the grief he caused, even temporarily, among those pets’ people. And then offering his services as pet care? No, I wasn’t going to give him to Creighton, not when the only legal penalties would hinge on the value of living creatures as property. The man had been a menace…a menace I had dealt with, in my own way.
“Excuse me?” The voice was very far away.
“No more rewards for ‘that nice young man.’” I formed the words, I swear I did. But then I heard a soft chuckle. I felt the warmth of lips on my forehead, and the conversation ended.
Like everyone else in town, I followed the trial. Beauville isn’t that big a place, and we’d lost one of our own. Two, if you count Chuck—though he’d long ago forfeited any local loyalties when he threw in his lot with Walz. I had sensed early on, that night at Happy’s, that he’d given up his old friends. I’d made the mistake of thinking he’d given them to join Creighton’s team.
Chuck took the bulk of the blame, of course. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Walz and Chuck couldn’t turn on each other fast enough, once they were arraigned, and Walz surrendered his contacts—a Colombian syndicate that supplied so-called “exotic pets” for the bored rich—which won him some credit with the feds. Plus, he brought in a big-deal lawyer, some city slicker who actually argued that his client should get off. He didn’t, of course. Once the verdicts were in, I turned my attention to other things, but I heard they were both going to do serious time.
The rest of the fallout was unsurprising. Albert kept his position, getting off with simply a warning once he agreed to testify about the little he could remember. Ronnie did, too, though I thought that was more because the condo association couldn’t be bothered finding someone else to plunge the toilets now that high season was upon us.
As for me, I turned down Greg’s offer. As attractive as the idea of the opening—or the man himself—might be, I couldn’t see committing to a full-time gig. Especially now that my client roster was healthy again, thanks to the good word from Tillie and Helen, Ernest Luge, and, yes, even Susan “Felicidad.”
Our mysterious newcomer wasn’t going to be staying. She had already brought Bunbury back to his real owner—a nursing home where the smart, social creature served as a therapy cat. I should have known he was a working feline from the start. Then again, Wallis always says I’m blind when it comes to what I should pick up.
Some things I do get. Billy Wagner, for example. The boy and his loyal puppy came to County’s first companion animal training session—accompanied by his mother. I saw his father a few times over the next few months as spring turned to high summer and then into a gentle New England fall. And while I didn’t have great hopes for his marriage, I like to think Billy’s father was getting help with his anger. At any rate, as the leaves began to turn, both the boy and his dog were filling out, the haunted look leaving the young child’s eyes.
Wallis, of course, thought the whole thing was ridiculous. “Runts,” she grunted, when I came home from a September session with the smell of the bonded pair on my hands. “If they can’t fend for themselves…”
“Not runts, Wallis.” Some things need to be said. “Children.”
“Huh.” Having voiced her complaint, she fell silent. In the cool of the evening, she rubbed against my ankles, and I found myself wondering what kittens were in her past and who had showed her kindness or cruelty before I came along.
“The past is past.” The words rose up to me as a rejoinder. Cats, like all animals, live in an eternal present. They don’t regret anything, nor do they fear what they cannot yet sense on the horizon. It’s as good a way to live as any, I thought, as I put the bills away, paid for once, and walked into the kitchen.
Wallis joined me there, jumping up to the window as her tail lashed the air. We stood there, enjoying the moment. The fading light made the birches glow even more than usual. The nights would be getting cold soon, and so many things would change. For now, though, the scene was beautiful. Golden and calm, and broken only by a set of familiar headlights coming up the drive.
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