Show and Tell

by Amy Shojai

  Before the tailgate smacked him, Larry vaulted off the embankment. Within two steps, mud mired his feet. Damn. He tripped and fell forward. His braced hands sank wrist deep into black soil.

  The truck revved. The dog man shouted. "Kid, what the hell you doing?"

  Sobbing, Larry clawed to push himself upright. His thighs and calf muscles screamed against the weight of the clay. When his feet and hands sank deeper still, the mire anchored him in place. He crouched with eyes wet and chest heaving.

  The weight of Hercules hit the end of the tether at the right angle, and snapped. The dog tumbled from the tailgate, landing on the incline at the side of the gravel drive. The trucker opened his door and clambered out.

  "Hercules, STAY. Come, boy. Come." The man scrambled to retrieve the tether, and hissed when it screamed through his bare hands when the beast couldn't stop his forward motion.

  Hercules hit Larry high in the shoulder. Larry opened his mouth to scream, anticipating the crush of jaws, but instead the dog yelped and floundered in the sticky muck as hobbled as Larry.

  "Hercules, oh God no! Kid, hang on, hang on."

  The dog flailed for solid footing, and then lunged, forelegs grasping Larry's waist. Larry caught a glimpse of the man's terrified expression before Hercules pushed his face deep into the cold muck.

  The Mastiff rode his shoulders, claws scrabbling for paw hold.

  Larry struggled to lift himself upright. Mud filled his ears and muffled the stranger’s frantic shouts and the dogs’ barks. Larry flailed, kicking legs churned, and he craned his neck side to side. His mouth filled with black dirt.

  For one last sane moment, Larry calmed himself enough to reach down, down, impossibly far, seeking rock, tree limb, anything solid for leverage to push up out of the soup. But his hands met no resistance.

  Lungs burned. Eyes snapped open into the grit that tears couldn't wash away. Screams bubbled tar pit slow from his mouth, and he inhaled, choked on black cold death.

  Larry convulsed. Sludge cooled super-heated nerves, almost a balm, until all went black.

  Chapter 9

  Shadow braced himself in the back seat. The big car jolted down and up again when it lurched off the regular car-path. He stuck his nose in the window crack, making wet streaks on the glass with his nose. A low tree branch switched against the car, and he flinched back.

  "Sorry, baby-dog." September reached through the metal bars that separated him from the front seat. He slurped her fingers. "Just chill. When we get there, we'll play Frisbee."

  He thumped his tail to show he understood. Shadow loved fetch-games, but the happy words couldn't change his disquiet.

  He'd growled at the scary woman. Oily acrid scent rolled off her gloves in waves, covering up the clean dog smell underneath. He wondered why she needed guns when she had dogs to keep her safe?

  Gun stink made his lip curl. Guns made ear-hurting noises, and could reach out and bite dogs and their people from far away. He didn't like or understand guns. Teeth were better, even for show. Good-dogs don't bite, not ever, even when scary strangers deserve biting. But instead of listening to a good-dog's warning, September shushed him. She knew best, but he remained alert until the stranger drove away with the crying lady.

  Despite her rude intrusion into his house, the weeping woman hadn't worried him. When he smelled the salty wet on her face, he knew she posed no threat.

  September couldn't enjoy the scent-colors that filled the world. He did his best to show her these hidden treasures, wanted to share his joy. Usually she listened to him, reading the lift of his ear or shift in his posture, but sometimes Shadow didn't know how to explain. If dogs detected smells and sounds hidden from people, then humans must know things dogs couldn't understand.

  People knew names for so many things, and he loved learning new names in the show-me game. People made cars run faster than any dog, and he relished wind-taste that blew through car windows. Shadow half closed his eyes, licked his nose, and stuck it further out the window to catch the scent-stream. Bliss.

  The car slowed, and tires crunched when they made a turn. He stared ahead, tipping his head to one side for a better view. The path unraveled in front like the paper roll Macy-cat liked to steal.

  Shadow saw a small wooden-sided house, its yard messy with tall uncut brown grass all around. He stood on the seat, wagging as the car came to a stop. To one side, a chain-link fence with a cement floor enclosed half the yard, empty now, but he smelled two dogs. He wagged harder, his tail raised with excitement. He couldn't stop the small whines of anticipation when September released her car-harness to get out.

  "Sorry, Shadow. Wait."

  He yelped in protest. He knew what wait meant, his least favorite word. He needed to do his job, lead the way, check-it-out for danger the way he always cleared their house when they returned home.

  "Everything's fine. Scariest thing here is the stray kitten BeeBo rescued, and a frightened kitty won't appreciate you nosing around." September took in the empty dog yard and frowned at the mud-crusted truck parked under a nearby carport.

  Shadow wagged again, and whined hopefully. He loved September talking to him, even if he didn't understand all the words. He understood the emotions and intent, so the words didn't matter.

  "His truck's here. Maybe BeeBo's out with Dot and Teddy. Can't have them come back and discover you baptizing their personal space, so you have to wait. I won't be long, I promise." He panted and pawed the window. "Give me a break, you’re not hot. Okay, I'll leave the blower on. How's that?" She restarted the car and flipped a switch so that wind from the front of the car ruffled his fur. September slammed the car door, and stuck one hand to the barely opened window for him to nose-touch. That made him feel better. A little.

  Shadow sighed, and watched her walk up the path to the front door, climb the stairs, and knock on the door. And wait.

  She knocked again and called out. "Hey BeeBo, you home?"

  An eerie keening howl rose from behind the door. Shadow came to full attention with the DANGER! cry from the strange dog. His fur bristled when September's back stiffened. She glanced at him, and he woofed and stood up, willing her to return, let him out to protect her from DANGER! the dog's howling fearful threat DANGER! inside the house.

  "BeeBo? Everything okay?" September’s voice shook.

  A second dog joined the first's lament. Hysterical woofs mixed with frantic yelps and mournful howls. September reached for the door handle, but before touching it, pulled her hand away as though from a flame.

  Shadow added his bark to the chorus, wanting, needing to reach September. He barked louder, but she ignored him, stepped off the porch, and disappeared around the side of the house.

  He whined, frustrated. She'd left him behind. He paw-slapped the window, clawed the door, frantic. Dot and Teddy's horrific howls of loss infected him with worry.

  September screamed.

  Shadow howled. He braced one paw on the door-ledge and wedged his nose further out the window. The glass abruptly scrolled down, and he didn't hesitate. A good-dog protected his person. Shadow vaulted from the car window, and dashed to join September.

  ***

  She bit her fist to stop another scream. The dirty window offered only a cloudy view, but enough for September to recognize the giant shape mounded in the middle of the floor. A long gun of some kind balanced against his torso. She couldn't see his face, but a dark stain pooled beneath his bulk, and smeared paw prints surrounded him. Did his chest rise and fall? Could he be alive, with so much blood everywhere?

  His dogs were inside. The white dog, Dot, peered back at her with what BeeBo called her "stare of death." She’d never seen the red dog so still, and only the duet of howls told her Teddy was alive.

  Before she could unfreeze her legs, Shadow sprinted around the corner, kicking up mud when he skidded to a stop at her side. "How did you? . . . Crap, forgot the child locks again." He poised to leap up against her, and she crossed her arms and leaned into hi
s space to back him off. "Good-boy. Sit."

  She'd love to bury her face in his ruff. But BeeBo needed help. "Stay close." She welcomed his warmth pressing against her thigh as she hurried back to the front porch, pulled out her phone and dialed 911.

  September shared her name, BeeBo's address, and as much information as she knew to the dispatcher. "I can see through the window, he's on the floor. There's a gun nearby, and lot of blood."

  "Is he alive?"

  "I don't know. Going to try the door now." She paused. "Send animal control, too. His two dogs are with him." Shadow pushed in front of her to block the door, fur bristling. "I've got my dog here, too." She had to secure Shadow. Dot and Teddy had every right to protect BeeBo from a strange human and dog entering their house.

  "Shadow, car ride. Now." Her voice turned drill sergeant sharp. He hesitated, but when she moved, Shadow whirled and beat her back to the SUV. He leaped into the rear seat through the open window. "Wait." September opened the driver's side, scrolled up the rear windows, punched the child-lock mechanism, and shut the door. She ignored Shadow's wail of protest and returned to the porch.

  September called to the two dogs through the door, making her voice calm but cheerful. "Dottie, here pup. Teddy, good boy. Who's a good dog? I'm coming in, you remember me." Teddy had always been extra protective. She grasped the knob, cracked upon the door, and the smell hit her. Dog poop and pee. And underneath, the coppery stench of old blood that made her stomach crawl up to her throat.

  The smaller white dog, Dot, crowded close to September, trying to climb up her leg as she stepped inside. Teddy, the red nose Pit Bull, crouched beside BeeBo and continued to cry. "Good dogs, that's the way. Let me see." You could never predict how a dog might react in such situations. Even though they knew September, she trod carefully. She couldn't help BeeBo if the dogs wouldn't let her.

  "BeeBo, do you hear me?" She stepped around the blood as best she could. Much of it had dried in a sticky dark stain near the big man's head. September knelt beside him, and checked his neck for a pulse, but his cold flesh didn’t lie.

  The red dog growled. "Teddy, good boy, you're okay." She slowly withdrew, and spoke into the phone. "He's not breathing. I think he’s been gone a while. The gun . . ." Her eyes filled with tears.

  "Wait for the authorities. The ambulance is on the way, and the police will dispatch someone shortly. Don't touch the gun. Was he suicidal?"

  September frowned. "I don't think so, but I haven't known him long. He knows...I mean, he knew a lot about guns. I can't imagine he'd be careless with one." She wondered why the dogs were inside, when BeeBo’s phone message made such a point about keeping them away from the rescued kitten. So far, she'd seen no sign of the cat.

  "Don't touch anything. Leave the house, and wait outside, can you do that for me?"

  "Sure." It broke her heart to see the dogs’ grief. They knew. Dot huddled and shivered against the door, while Teddy interspersed whimpers with low growls, still intent on protecting his master. September clicked off the phone, stuck it in her pocket. The dispatcher couldn't mean for her to leave the dogs in here. It would take time for animal control to arrive, and she didn't want the police delayed by upset dogs.

  Especially with anything that looked like a Pit Bull. Like most APBTs, Dot and Teddy fell all over themselves to please people, but still suffered the bad reputation media often fostered. September couldn't do anything now for BeeBo, except protect his dogs. She’d get both dogs to their kennel, and settle them safely away from the police circus that would only stress them further.

  "Dottie, c'mon good girl, let's get you out of here." Teddy might calm a bit once Dot left the building. The girl dog dropped to the ground and dramatically rolled over. The right side of her face was brown, with a black dot giving her a jaunty make-believe black eye, and the rest of her face white like her body. BeeBo always pointed out Dot’s eye shadow smudge over her left eye, and lipstick dark lips, saying they made her a glamour dog. September blinked hard, and wondered what would happen to the pair with him gone.

  She had extra leashes in the back of the SUV and various other dog and cat consulting paraphernalia. BeeBo trained his dogs to respond to voice and hand signals unique as himself. She'd only seen him work his dogs once, and hoped she'd remember and they'd respond.

  September fumbled with the drawstring on her sweatpants, and pulled it free. She half crouched, turned sideways toward Dot, and called. "Yoo-hoo, comy-yup-pup." She patted her leg at the same time, and Dot put her head down and wiggled toward her, flailing her tail as she bared teeth in a classic submissive grin. "Comy-yup-pup, good girl, Dot." Quickly, she threaded the drawstring cord beneath Dot’s collar, stood up, and moved toward the door. "Who's a good girl? Dottie's a good girl." The dog pressed hard against September's leg, waited patiently until the door opened and followed with unmistakable relief to the kennel gate. "Kennel-up, good girl, Dot."

  September latched the gate behind Dot, and trotted to her SUV to get a sturdier leash. Teddy was bigger, stronger, and probably less willing. She also grabbed a couple of bandannas, and liberally sprayed them with a commercial analogue of a dog pheromone. She stuffed one in her waistband and carried the other with the leash back to the house. At least Shadow remained quiet. Having him near kept her calm, able to focus on getting the dogs out. She'd need a Shadow-fix after this, once the authorities came.

  Before opening the door, she called again to Teddy to warn him. Nothing worse than a startled, hyper-vigilant dog. "It's me again, Teddy. Want to see the handsome fellow." She moved inside and latched the door, avoiding direct eye contact with the stressed dog. "Comy-yup-pup, Teddy." She stood sideways, a few feet away from the entry, crouched down and patted her leg again. "Comy-yup-pup." September wadded up the treated bandanna, and tossed it halfway to the dog.

  The dog whined and stretched his neck toward the cloth, sniffing. Mother dogs produced the pheromone while nursing puppies, and it soothed fear even in adult dogs. September hoped the chemical signal would take the edge off Teddy's fear-aggression. Luring Teddy away from BeeBo also reduced the chance the dog would want to guard. "Comy-up-pup, let's go see Dot."

  Teddy sniffed BeeBo's face, nose nudged him, and when he gave no response, the dog stood and shook himself. That released the invisible cord tying Teddy to his body, and he rushed to meet September. The big red dog nearly bowled her over trying to get into her lap.

  "Good-boy, such a good doggy, sweet baby, I'm so sorry, honey." September babbled, but the words meant less than the emotion. Teddy wriggled as the leash clipped to his collar. September pulled the bandanna from her waistband and knotted it through the collar like a bow tie. The other one she'd attach to Dot's collar.

  She kicked the wadded bandanna on her way to the door. Before she could retrieve it, a streak of fur sprinted from beneath a nearby chair, grappled the cloth with tiny claws, and skidded into September's ankle.

  Teddy immediately stuck his nose into the kitten's face and got a snout full of claws for his trouble. It must be Fuzzit, the rescue cat that BeeBo mentioned. Before September could scoop him up, the tiny kitten shimmied up her pant leg and chest to reach her chin. She tucked the trembling baby under her shirt to contain it on the trip outside, tugged Teddy's leash, and led the dog to join Dot in the fenced yard.

  Shadow woofed from the car, and she hurried to meet him. "I promised you fetch-time, didn't I?" She’d never felt less like playing a game, but it would be therapeutic, reduce her stress, ward off the panic attack clawing the back of her mind. She couldn't leave until the police arrived and took her statement. But first, she needed to situate the kitten.

  September popped the SUV's rear hatch, and snagged the small fabric duffel-shaped cat carrier in the rear of the compartment. After she zippered the tiny kitten inside, she collected the stack of dog toys, stowed the carrier on the front seat, and opened Shadow's door.

  As soon as his paws hit the dirt, Shadow nosed the scent path to the front porch, hackles ra
ised. "Shadow, no. Wanna play fetch?" She sing-songed the magic words, knowing that the happy association could change a dog's attitude.

  Shadow's head whipped around at her words. When she waved one of the disks in the air and then wrist-flicked it away from the house into the next field, he flew after the sailing toy. September’s shoulders relaxed as he snatched one after another from the air, and raced back to drop them at her feet. He paw-danced with impatience, urging her to toss the next.

  Cars appeared at the end of the narrow lane, quickly closing the distance. A black and white led the way, followed by an unmarked vehicle September recognized. Her shoulders tightened. Not Combs, anyone but Combs. There must be other detectives in Heartland.

  "Shadow, that's enough. Bring." She watched as he gathered up the Frisbees, neatly stacked them, and returned to her carrying all six of the toys. September deposited them in the SUV and got Shadow into the back seat, rolled the window partway down, and waited.

  Officers from the black and white disembarked, but she only had eyes for the tall lean detective climbing out of the unmarked car. Her studied composure began to crumble. She wanted to run to him, hide her face against his broad chest, and feel the warmth of his arms.

  Before she could say a word, Combs stomped across the gravel drive to join her. White tension marked the corners of his mouth, deepening the cleft in his chin, and she flinched in surprise at the fury in his tone.

  "What the hell are you doing, playing games in the middle of my crime scene?"

  Chapter 10

  Combs turned away from September, fuming. He motioned to the uniform officers. "Secure the scene. Let me know when the coroner arrives." He glared at September, and then turned from her hurt expression. He’d been on the way to interview the missing boy’s parents when they got the call about BeeBo. So much for Doty handling things.

  He couldn't believe September had discovered the body. Again. Media would gnaw that bone like a starving dog.