“Give me that,” Mrs. McCabe said, trying to pry the red can out of Kinney’s fingers.
Kinney backed away and raised one knee, fending off Mrs. McCabe and her wolfhound, Heidi, who’d decided to investigate.
“You must have gotten a great deal on canned air, Mrs. McCabe. I saw four canisters beside the potting soil last night.”
“So?” Mrs. McCabe’s hands were on the hips of her billowing drawstring pants.
“This product is banned in Dorset Hills now. It’s like fireworks in a can, and not at all dog-friendly.”
“It works like a charm to deter barking,” Mrs. McCabe said, with a bland smile. “We keep a peaceful neighborhood here.”
Kinney peered out the back door. She could see Whiskey’s wire mesh dog run clearly through the sparse hedge. No wonder the Barbers wanted a better fence.
“Whiskey definitely wasn’t barking when you used this half an hour ago. He’d just come out to do his business and you terrified him so much he shot back inside.”
“I did no such thing.” Mrs. McCabe’s tone was defiant, but she lowered her voice so her friends couldn’t hear. Obviously she was working alone.
“I have proof, actually,” Kinney said.
“You’re spying on me?”
“I have a personal interest in Whiskey, and I can’t tell you how upsetting it was to see him cringe and run. That sound is torture for a sensitive dog. How do you manage to fire off canned air without startling your own dog? She must have nerves of steel.”
The woman’s eyes dropped, and she ran her hand over the dog’s bristly grey head. “Deaf. Still doesn’t like the vibrations.”
“Mrs. McCabe. You seem like a dog lover. I don’t understand how you could willingly inflict pain on Whiskey.”
“It’s not about Whiskey. It’s about Dan Barber. He doesn’t belong in this neighborhood, and we’d like him to leave.”
Kinney leaned against the counter and counted to five. Anger would scorch her tongue with furious words if she weren’t careful. Sometimes people just didn’t realize the impact of their actions after emotion took over. She couldn’t help this woman understand if she lost her own temper.
“I won’t argue that Dan seems difficult. But you’re punishing the dog, not the man. Whiskey is traumatized and acting strangely because of what you’re doing. I knew this dog before the Barbers took him. He had a solid temperament, which you’re destroying pretty quickly.”
“I’m sure Dan Barber destroyed his temperament more than a few puffs of air ever could.”
Kinney counted to five again more slowly. “I know it was more than that. There’s at least one witness who’s commented on the noise.” She pushed herself off the counter. “I’ll bet the Pooch Patrol have heard strange daytime explosions, too. Let’s ask.”
“No!” Mrs. McCabe caught her arm. “There’s no need for them to know any of this. You have no proof.”
“Oh, but we do.” The voice was cool but light. Kinney turned and found the round eye of Evie’s camera trained on them. “Take a look at the dirt on my skirt and the bites on my legs. It was one heck of a stakeout.”
“I want you and that camera out of my house.” Mrs. McCabe advanced on Evie, with the wolfhound by her side. Heidi might be deaf, but she was a good enough judge of body language that her hackles rose.
“What’s going on?” The other members of the Pooch Patrol were standing in the kitchen doorway. Liza was wearing a taupe wrap that was as elegant as her silvery bun. “Myrtle, you seem flustered.”
“I—I am. It turns out these ladies are here doing Bill Bradshaw’s dirty work.”
“How so?” asked Addie. “Evie’s show has stuck it to the mayor. These girls seem too sensible to support Bill’s foolishness.”
“You’re right,” Evie said. “I do try to stick it to the mayor whenever I can. But I’m a freelancer, now. Kinney is on the municipal payroll so she has to follow the rules, at least most of the time.”
“That must be difficult, Officer Butterfield,” Addie said.
Kinney nodded. “Nothing is black and white. Where pets are concerned, sometimes good people do bad things and vice versa.”
“Sounds complicated,” Addie said. “Life in Dorset Hills used to be simpler.”
“Agreed,” Kinney said. “And I know it’s been tough for everyone to adjust.” She turned to Mrs. McCabe. “I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. So how about we let the dust settle and I’ll come around in few days and see how you and the Barbers are getting on?”
Mrs. McCabe gave a pained smile. “Lovely. I’ll be too busy replanting my garden to have time for Dan’s foolishness.”
“Good,” Kinney said, beckoning to Evie. “I’m heading over to broker peace with him now.”
Addie Linton followed so close on Kinney’s heels that she accidentally kicked the older woman. At the door, she pressed a business card into Kinney’s hand. “If you happen to need an expert dog-sitter, I come very well recommended.”
“Good to know,” Kinney said, slipping it into her pocket. “Although I don’t have a dog.”
“You will,” Addie said. “People like you never last long without a dog.”
Kinney’s eyebrows rose. “People like me?”
Addie nodded, her sharp eyes glinting. “The good people. There are still a few of us left in Dog Town.”
Dan Barber scowled when he saw the camera, even though it was dangling from Evie’s right hand. “You two again?”
“Good evening,” Kinney said. “May we come in?”
“No. We’re just about to eat dinner.”
“Dan!” His wife sounded horrified as she nudged him out of the doorway. “We just got home and I haven’t even started cooking. Kinney, of course you can come in. You’re always welcome here. I spoke to my sister today and she remembers you fondly.”
Kinney didn’t wait for Dan’s next salvo, pushing past him with Evie close on the heels of her City-issued work boots. “I won’t keep you long. Just wanted to have a quick chat about your doggie door. I’m not sure if you’re aware they’re against city regulations.”
“I had no idea,” Ginny said. “Why would that be against regulations?”
“Dogs can get into trouble when they’re out unsupervised. You’d be surprised.”
Still in the front entrance, Dan crossed his arms. “Have you been spying on us?”
Kinney shrugged. “Just doing my due diligence after the fracas last night. The empty lot behind you is City property.”
“How convenient.” Dan retreated to his leather chair as Liam crept in. The boy met Kinney’s eyes for a second and nodded, accepting her silent request to stay quiet.
“We have nothing to hide,” Ginny said. “We thought we were doing something nice for Whiskey. He can get some fresh air while we’re at work.”
“Except that I’ve heard complaints about random sounds in this neighborhood,” Kinney said. “Something like firecrackers. I heard it today and saw Whiskey flinch when he was outside. Last night I noticed he wasn’t the calm dog I met five months ago. That may be one reason why.”
“What are the City’s regulations on fireworks?” Dan asked.
“Also banned. Along with any loud noises that would terrify dogs.” She looked down at Whiskey, who was once again lying with his long muzzle on Liam’s leg. A shudder washed over him, from flattened ears to tail. “He seems distressed.”
Ginny’s forehead creased in worry. “He’s been shaking a lot lately. I thought he just missed my sister.”
“I’m sure that’s also true. Stress can have serious repercussions for dogs.” She held out her arm and the cuff of her jacket slid up to reveal the bandage. “And for humans. You’ll need to do some work to desensitize him and reverse the damage. I can recommend an expert trainer.”
Dan straightened from his slouch. “We’ll surrender the dog.”
Ginny and Liam both gasped. “We can’t give away my sister’s dog,” Ginny said.
/> “She left him with us and he bit a dog cop, Ginny. Now he’s apparently traumatized and neither one of us has the time or skill to ‘desensitize’ him. What if he bit Liam next?”
“Whiskey would never bite me, Daddy. He’s my best friend.”
The dog literally wormed his way into the boy’s lap and managed to flip over onto his back, the very image of submission.
A familiar feeling stirred in Kinney’s heart. It was grief over the loss of Kali. She’d worked so hard to process it, but zigzagged perpetually through the anger and depression stages. She would never get to acceptance. That her dog could be taken so early was impossible to accept.
Clenching her fists, she drove her nails into her palms. It was almost always enough to keep tears at bay. She had a high threshold to start with, thanks to her stint in social services, where she frequently encountered families far more fraught than this one.
“Abandoning the dog now will only increase his stress, Dan. The trainer I mentioned can come here to work with you and I’m sure it’s nothing the three of you can’t handle, working together.”
Dan shook his head. “It’s too risky, especially with that Pooch Patrol crawling all over. If it got out that Whiskey bit a dog cop it would make us look bad. Ginny works in a child care center. Imagine if he bit a child?”
“I’ll do the work, Dan,” Ginny said. “Liam and I can make it a project.”
“Yeah, Daddy.” Liam hugged the dog as best he could. “We’ll fix Whiskey so he isn’t scared anymore.”
Dan just shook his head again. “I have to do what’s best for our family. Someday maybe we’ll get a smaller dog. After Old Lady McCabe dies.” He turned to Kinney. “Take him tonight. No use prolonging it.”
She waited a moment for the lump in her throat to subside. “Dan, this dog won’t do well in Animal Services. The noise and confusion would overwhelm him.” She raised her hand before he could respond. “Plus the City doesn’t look kindly on reactive dogs.”
“Not my problem. We took the dog in and if the worst thing we did was give him a dog door, I can live with that.” He turned to walk into the kitchen. “Liam, don’t. Sometimes things aren’t fair. The sooner you learn that, the better.”
Tears rolled down Liam’s face as he looked up at Kinney. “Can’t you take him? You’ll fix him and maybe we can have him back.”
“Whisky should at least be returned to Jacinda, when she’s back,” Ginny said, kneeling beside Liam. “She’ll be so upset about all this. But I’m sure she’d be relieved to think he’s in your capable hands.”
“Me?” Kinney was shaking her head even as the word came out. “I can’t. I’m barely at home. Plus, it’s against the rules of my job.”
Liam’s big eyes turned to Evie and she said, “No can do. I’m allergic.” She wiped her eyes, which were streaming from more than animal dander. “Kinney, can’t we, you know, do something? We know people.”
Kinney stared down at the big dog, still on his back in Liam’s lap. The dog looked back, and a strange feeling tingled in her spine. She had never seen such intelligent eyes in a dog’s face. They seemed almost human. In fact, they were more human than the eyes of many people she’d met, and eyes like that should never be behind bars in Animal Services… or worse.
“Okay,” she told Liam. “I will look out for Whiskey. Just like I did with your aunt. He is a special dog.”
Ginny hugged her, and now the only dry eyes in the room were Kinney’s, unless you counted Whiskey’s. Liam pushed the dog out of his lap and came over to wrap his arms around Kinney’s waist.
“Promise?” he asked.
She nodded, and when he squeezed her harder the word came out. “Promise.”
Dan cleared his throat as he came back in with the leash. “Good luck with that. He’s not coming back here. Ever.”
Kinney glared at him before disengaging herself from Liam and bending to hook up the dog. A long nose poked into her hair and the dog licked her ear. “It’s okay, buddy,” she whispered. “I got you.”
She avoided looking at Liam sobbing in Ginny’s arms as she left. It was something she’d witnessed too often in social work…something she’d hoped never to see again when she left that job behind. Being a dog cop was supposed to be easier, but it wasn’t working out that way.
Outside on the porch, Evie lowered her camera. “That was awful. Awful! One day we need to expose the seedy underbelly of Dog Town, where people traumatize dogs and give them up, all because of politics.”
Kinney blew her hair back from her forehead, which had beaded with perspiration. It wasn’t all from stress: the humidity had crept in today and soon summer would hit full force.
“I can’t keep this dog, Evie. I’d lose my job for concealing a biter, no doubt about that.”
“I’ve got it all on video, remember? The dog didn’t really bite. It was just a drive-by nip and your arm got in the way.”
“He was very likely going for Myrtle McCabe and her garden hoe, but aggression is aggression.” Kinney said. “Anyway, Cliff won’t buy any of it. I’ll need to get Cori and Bridget to place Whiskey with someone who knows how to work with dogs like this.”
The dog nuzzled her hand as she led him to the car, and when she looked up, Evie’s smile was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Like the bad man said, good luck with that.”
Chapter 6
When Kinney first laid eyes on Runaway Farm, it had resembled something out of an old western ghost town. The house and the outbuildings were crumbling and there seemed to be a perpetual cloud of dust blowing up in little eddies. The previous owner’s money had all gone into maintaining his rescue animals, which had included an old blind horse, cows, sheep, a parrot, and a small terrier with a big attitude, named Prima. Hannah Pemberton, the heiress who’d come home to Dorset Hills from New York City, bought the farm and started refurbishing it. The mayor had fought her every step of the way, because he’d slated the land for development. Finally, the dust had settled, and now the derelict farm was emerging like a butterfly from its battered cocoon.
Driving under the rusted arched sign that read “Runaway Far,” Kinney smiled. Hannah had decided not to replace the missing “m” because the name reflected what she’d done: “run away far” from her lonely life in the big city.
Greeting them from the porch with a sweeping wave, Hannah seemed to glow with health and happiness. The cliché about pregnant women turned out to be true in this case, although the glow probably had much to do with Nick Springdale, Evie’s handsome brother. Today he was working with a crew to fence off new pasture beside the house. Once the farm had gained popularity from Evie’s show, more and more animals found their way to safe haven there. Most of them—great and small—were unceremoniously dumped on the property. Hannah kept the ones that Charlie, her farm manager, felt would be a good fit, and found new homes for the others. Thanks to the Rescue Mafia, she was developing a strong network of hobby farms that spanned several states. Two weeks ago, Kinney had joined Hannah to deliver a particularly nasty donkey to a large sheep farm where his aggression could fend off coyotes. Hannah, a recently licensed driver, had insisted on piloting a truck pulling the trailer. Her courage inspired Kinney; if Hannah could face her fears in life, Kinney could, too.
“I can’t believe how fast she’s turning this place around,” Evie said. “There’s a constant stream of contractors.” She stared around. “Is there some sort of regulation that all construction workers need to be gorgeous?”
Kinney laughed. “Maybe women are wired to appreciate capable guys. Luckily, you have your own capable guy. He may not be able to build barns, but he can deliver calves and lambs.”
“You got the wrong veterinarian,” Evie said. “Jon specializes in small animals. But if your pregnant hamster needs a hand, he’s your man.”
“Whiskey would eat that hamster, wouldn’t you boy?” Kinney glanced over her shoulder. The big dog took up most of the back seat, but he looked comfortable e
nough. He’d paced most of the night, keeping her awake, but it seemed like a moving vehicle soothed dogs as well as babies. “I’ve made an appointment with Jon to see Whiskey. Maybe he’ll have some pointers on rehabilitating him.”
“I’m sure he will. He’s no pro with a hammer but he’s a genius in other ways.” Evie’s sharp eyes softened with love. “You should find your own handsome genius, my friend. James, for example, seems to be one heck of a businessman. He’s already secured permits to start building on his lakefront property even while being on the mayor’s bad side.”
Pulling into a spot in the packed parking area, Kinney glared at her. “Can you please cut the matchmaking—at least while we’re here? Hannah might not appreciate your shoving me into her brother’s arms.”
“Oh, she would. She told me she wants her brother to settle down and be happy.” Evie gathered her things, including her video camera. “A dog cop would make the perfect sister-in-law.”
“Please. A dog cop is welcome exactly nowhere.” Kinney opened the door. “I didn’t realize how much of a pariah I’d become in this role. I was so broken up about Kali when I applied that I couldn’t think straight.”
Hannah ran down the stairs to hug them both, with Prima at her heels. The scrappy little dog threw back her head and hurled out a volley of barks.
“Cut that out, little lady,” Hannah said. “You love Evie and Kinney.”
“I imagine the noise is about my passenger,” Kinney said. “I rescued a dog from a difficult situation last night. So I brought him out here to—”
“Dump him?” Hannah’s smile faded. “No, Kinney, I am not adopting your rescue. I’ve added another llama and two goats this week alone. Besides, Prima wants to be an only dog.”
“I’m not dumping the dog on you.” Kinney’s voice gave her away. That’s exactly what she’d hoped to do. Whiskey would run out all his anxiety in the rolling green fields. Being stuck at home alone while she worked would be hard on a traumatized dog. “I brought him because I heard Cori would be here.”
“She’s in the barn, telling Charlie how to manage the llamas,” Hannah said. “How she knows so much about camelids is beyond me.”
Bold and Blue in Dog Town: (Dog Town 9) Page 4