The Case of the Graceful Goldens

by B R Snow

  “Congratulations. I guess you were finally able to convince them you could pull off warm and fuzzy, right?”

  “No, I finally convinced them to drop all of that nonsense. I told senior management that they should be going the other way with me,” she said, smiling. “You know, play to my strengths, and not trying to minimize them.”

  “Dark, mean, and edgy?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Close enough.”

  “So, no morning show for the masses?”

  “Absolutely not. A weekly primetime show called The Evil Lurking in Us All. And this story is perfect. Thanks for bringing it to me. Although it’s probably not going to play out the way you were thinking.”

  “Yeah, probably not,” I said. “But try to do me a favor, Jessica.”

  “We’re back to that now, huh?” she said, laughing. “What do you think I owe you, Suzy?”

  “Just try not to make Alexandra out to be too much of a monster.”

  She thought about it, then nodded.

  “Okay. I’ll see what I can do. Nice seeing you, Suzy.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, Jessica.”

  She waved, and I watched her stroll toward Alexandra. I watched as they began to chat, and laughed when the Goldens jumped up to say hello and Jessica let loose with a howl. Jerry the Cameraman walked up next to me and shook his head when he saw Jessica’s reaction to the dogs.

  “She really is a piece of work,” he said, staring at Jessica.

  “Are you going to miss her after she’s gone?”

  “I’m going to New York with her,” Jerry said.

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I managed to weasel my way into a producer role on her new show.”

  “How the heck did you do that?”

  “With a few carefully worded comments about a particular piece of footage from a dog show,” he said, grinning at me.

  “We deleted all of that,” I said, frowning. “And I made Josie swear that she didn’t send you a copy.”

  “Yeah, but Jessica doesn’t know that,” he said, laughing.

  “You blackmailed her?”

  “Blackmail is such an ugly word.”

  “Are all the people in your industry like the two of you?”

  “No, most of them are very nice,” he said. “And please don’t lump me in with her. Jessica’s in a class by herself.”

  “But why would you want to keep working with her?” I said, frowning.

  “Because she’s a rising star. And the chance to hitch your wagon to one of those doesn’t come along very often,” he said, shrugging.

  “Opportunity trumps integrity?”

  “Hey, I gotta eat, too.”

  With my contempt for the human race at an all-time high, I followed him as he headed for the backyard. I walked toward Alexandra to say goodbye. When she saw me coming, she excused herself from Jessica and met me near the gate.

  “Thank you, Suzy,” Alexandra said.

  “For what?”

  “For giving me the opportunity to tell my side of the story somewhere other than in the courtroom.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I said. “I hope it helps.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, glancing at Jessica. “But I’m going to have to stay on my toes. That woman is a snake.”

  “Well, at least you know what species you’re dealing with going into it,” I said.

  “Can I ask you to do something for me?” Alexandra said, her eyes pleading.

  “Why not?” I said, shrugging. “There seems to be a lot of that going around today.”

  “Would you be willing to take Lucky and Lucy with you? Keep them with you and Josie, or find them a good home?”

  “I’d be honored, Alexandra.”

  Tears started rolling down her eyes then dried in the wind.

  “Thank you. I’ll go get them,” she said, heading for the dogs.

  Chief Abrams approached, and we both watched Alexandra hug her dogs again.

  “She asked you to take the dogs, didn’t she?” he said.

  “Yeah. There were so many things floating around my head, I completely forgot about what would happen to the dogs.”

  “That’s not like you,” he said.

  “No. I must be slipping.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get it back,” he said.

  “It’s so sad.”

  “It is. But at least you were able to give Jessica’s career a boost,” he deadpanned.

  “Funny.”

  “I was going for ironic, but whatever,” he said, draping an arm over my shoulder. “You did good, Suzy.”

  “Then why do I feel like crap?”

  “Because people you thought you knew let you down again,” he said, watching Alexandra as she headed for my SUV with both dogs trailing close behind. “I’ve been doing this stuff longer than I care to remember, and it happens all the time.”

  “How do you deal with it?” I said, glancing at him.

  “I always try to follow a very simple rule.”

  “This oughta be good.”

  “When all else fails, lower your expectations.”

  I watched as Alexandra opened the door and the dogs effortlessly hopped up on the backseat. She gave them a final embrace, then slowly headed back toward us. She stopped to hug me, then approached the four cops who were waiting patiently in the backyard. Chief Abrams and I waved goodbye, then climbed in the SUV and spent a few minutes petting the dogs before I turned around and slowly drove down the driveway.

  “You want to get something to eat before we head home?” Chief Abrams said.

  “No, I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment,” I said.

  “Yeah, I get that,” he said, reaching into his bag. “Don’t worry, it happens to all the great ones from time to time.”

  “You really should have gone into standup, Chief.”

  He popped Kind of Blue into the CD player and leaned back in his seat. The soft piano riff started, followed by the plaintive whisper of a trumpet that slowly began to swell. I stared out at the empty stretch of highway and noticed snowflakes drifting past as the car hit seventy.

  “I’m feeling something different listening to it this time,” I said.

  “That’s because your mood has changed,” he said, his eyes closed.

  “Interesting. Does that happen a lot when you listen to jazz?”

  “Sometimes,” he said, yawning. “But it always happens when I listen to Miles.”

  Epilogue

  The events of our day in Saratoga Springs stayed with me, and my dominant mood seemed stuck somewhere between a muted sadness and a relentless indifference to most of the things happening in and around my world. Except for the dogs. My four-legged friends continued to provide joy and offer hope on a daily basis, and I was again struck by the notion of how much they could teach their human brethren if we’d only take the time to listen.

  As much as we would have loved to keep Lucky and Lucy, the prospect of having six dogs in the house was a bit too much for even us to consider. And after several conversations with Josie and Chef Claire, we eventually decided to give them to a family that had a farm just outside of town, thereby disappointing a dozen other people who had immediately raised their hands when we first announced the two Goldens were available for adoption.

  Chef Claire and I watched the family drive down the driveway with the dogs and two young kids crammed into the backseat, then headed to the living room where Al was terrorizing Captain. I sprawled out on the couch with Chloe and watched Al do everything he could to get the Newfie up off the floor.

  “I ran into Rooster today,” I said. “His cousin is going to get probation.”

  “He better hope I don’t run into him again,” Chef Claire said.

  “He’s Florida bound,” I said. “I doubt if we’ll be seeing him around here again.”

  Josie entered the living room wearing one of the micro-bikinis my mother had bought for all three of
us.

  “I don’t care what your mother says or tries to do,” Josie said. “I am not wearing this thing.”

  “Wow, that is small,” Chef Claire said.

  “I don’t know whether to wear mine,” I said. “Or floss my teeth with it.”

  “Any ideas?” Josie said, glancing back and forth at us.

  I thought for a moment, then an evil grin appeared on my face.

  “Go change,” I said to Josie. “And bring all three bikinis with you when you come back out.”

  Josie shrugged, then headed off. A few minutes later she came back wearing sweats and a tee shirt holding all three of the suits. She handed them to me and stretched out on the floor next to Captain.

  “What are you going to do? Throw them in the fireplace?” Chef Claire said.

  “No, something better,” I said. “Al. Come here, boy.”

  Al trotted over and grabbed all three bikinis out of my hand. He settled down behind the couch and started working his way through them. We all kept a close eye on him to make sure he chewed but didn’t swallow.

  “Gee, I’m sorry, Mrs. C.,” Josie said, laughing. “But the dog ate my swimsuit.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “We’re probably sending Al a mixed message, but duty calls, right?”

  “You’re a genius,” Chef Claire said.

  “It’s just part of the evil lurking inside us all,” I said.

  I flashed back on the first episode of Jessica’s new show we’d watched last night. Despite a few times where I thought Jessica had gone too far, Alexandra came across as an orange-clad shell of a woman who’d been scorned, out of options, and increasingly desperate. I knew it probably wouldn’t have any impact on the jury, but I felt a bit better knowing that the general public had an opportunity to hear the details directly from Alexandra. Jessica had come across as stern but capable, two qualities Josie found unusual for a reptile to possess, and I was sure the show would be a hit.

  I reached for my wine and the printed itinerary my mother had put together for our trip. She’d put a lot of work into making sure we had a chance to experience some of her favorite things in Grand Cayman, so I had committed myself to being on my best behavior the entire week. My mother was still being tight-lipped about whether or not she was the mystery woman who’d stolen Bob’s heart, and I had also committed myself to getting it out of her while we were on vacation.

  I glanced behind the couch and laughed when I saw the purple and yellow string dangling from Al’s mouth. He paused to look up at me, then went back to work.

  “Good job, Al,” Josie said. “Should we save the scraps to show your mother?”

  “Great idea,” I said. “Otherwise, she’d never believe us.”

  Chef Claire bent down and collected what was left of the bikinis. She then had a brief tug of war over the string Al was determined to polish off.

  “That’s enough, Al,” Chef Claire said. “How about a cookie?”

  Al dashed for the kitchen and waited for Chef Claire to deliver. She returned with the box and gave two to all four dogs. I stretched back out on the couch and gently stroked Chloe’s head.

  “What is this music?” Josie said, frowning.

  “It’s Miles Davis. Kind of Blue.”

  “Melancholy,” she said, nodding.

  “Good word.”

  Coming Soon from B.R. Snow!

  The Whiskey Run Chronicles

  Don’t miss B.R Snow’s new series, The Whiskey Run Chronicles, that will be launching soon. The series is written as self-contained episodes around 15,000 words each that are designed to be easily read in a single-sitting, but flow together into an epic tale covering the Prohibition period of the 1920s.

  Set in the Thousand Islands, The Whiskey Run Chronicles, features Milo Razner, one of the most clever and funniest villains you’re ever likely to encounter. Follow Milo as he puts together a brilliant, and often audacious, plan to smuggle whiskey across the Canadian border into the speakeasies and Blind Pigs of Upstate New York during the time when booze was outlawed, but the local residents were still very thirsty and willing to pay top dollar for it.

  Along the way, you’ll meet a great cast of supporting characters who are either committed to helping Milo succeed, or trying to lock him away for a very long time. The Whiskey Run Chronicles captures a fascinating time in our country’s history and takes place in a very special geographic location. And for less than a dollar, each episode will keep you on the edge of your seat, scratching your head and laughing, as you try to figure out exactly what Milo is up to and how he’s going to manage to pull it off.

  Here’s a sample of what some of the early readers are saying:

  “Snow’s new series gently unfolds like a single flower, but soon blossoms into a full-blown garden of surprise and delight.”

  “I’m trying hard to fit The Whiskey Run Chronicles into a specific genre. It’s certainly one-part mystery, sort of an adult-cozy at times, and it definitely sits inside the boundaries of historical fiction. But there’s something different about this series that I can’t quite put my finger on that makes it hard to pigeonhole. It’s clever, often very funny, but the series has a heart to it that I find incredibly appealing. And I don’t think I’ve ever found myself rooting for a bad guy like I do Milo Razner. Rather than overthink it, my plan is to anxiously wait for each new episode to arrive, then sit down with a glass of bourbon and enjoy my journey back to the 1920s.”

  “Two of my favorite aspects of Snow’s writing, great characters driven by razor-sharp dialogue, are on full display, and the use of an episodic-structure, while unusual, works perfectly. This is going to be one hell of a great series!”

  The Whiskey Run Chronicles

  B.R. Snow

  Episode 1

  The Dry Season Approaches

  Three Shots to the Wind

  Milo nodded to the well-dressed man in black he passed on his way to the bar. He wasn’t a huge fan of fedoras as a rule, but they had their time and place. Just like the one on Milo’s head here and now. And Milo had to give the man credit for the way he wore his. Like he was confident about how good he looked; proud of the hat, and not apologizing at all for looking like a bit of a dandy.

  Hats were tricky to pull off as far as Milo was concerned. A lot of folks pulled them down way too far, then made it worse by keeping their heads down when they walked past you. Like they were hiding something or weren’t quite as confident as they were trying to appear. When that happened, Milo always got the impression that the hat was wearing the person, not the other way around.

  Yeah, hats were tricky.

  But if you got the angle of the hat cocked just right, held your head high, and looked people in the eye when you passed them on the street, you’d always get a nod out of Milo.

  Even if you did look like a bit of a dandy.

  Milo tipped his hat to a group of three women standing in the hotel lobby near the entrance to the bar. Working girls, he decided when he caught their taunting smiles and eyes that lingered just a touch too long.

  “Ladies, I hope you’re all doing well this beautiful evening,” Milo said, continuing past them toward the bar.

  “We could all be doing a lot better,” one of the women said.

  The other two women laughed, and the one who’d spoken to Milo met his eyes when he stopped and turned around. She cocked her head and stared at him, oozing confidence. No hat needed on this pretty young thing, Milo decided.

  “I guess everyone could always be doing better, right?” Milo said.

  “Indeed. I like your hat,” the woman said, studying his fedora. “I never wear them myself.”

  “Because it would be redundant, right?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing. Merely a passing thought on my part. I’m Milo.”

  “Daisy,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at her two companions before locking eyes with him again. “That’s Maxine. This is Betsy.”

  “It’s ver
y nice to meet you ladies,” Milo said, bowing slightly. “I hope you all have a wonderful evening.”

  “If you’re looking for some company, feel free to stop by Fannie’s later,” Daisy said. “I’m sure I could make your stay here much more pleasant. Or, if your tastes run in that direction, all three of us.”

  Milo smiled and continued to match her stare.

  “That’s very thoughtful of you. Unfortunately, I have some business to attend to at the moment. But I must say, if I were ever honored to be in your company, Miss Daisy, including anyone else would be a pointless gesture. An exercise in futility if you will. For I would hate to ruin my reputation as a gentleman since I would undoubtedly be completely ignoring everyone else who happened to be present at the time.”

  Her two colleagues tittered and Daisy flushed bright red, but before she had a chance to recover and respond, Milo tipped his hat again, then turned and entered the bar. He glanced around and decided to sit at the bar. The bartender, a tall man who barely looked old enough to drink, approached and nodded his head at the three women who were still hovering near the entrance.

  “Not many men can say no to Daisy,” the bartender said, wiping down the mahogany in front of Milo.

  “I didn’t say no,” Milo said. “I just said not now.”

  “Well, Daisy is a right now kind of girl and not used to men having to think about it,” he said, laughing. “But judging by the way she’s hanging in the doorway, I think you got her attention. What can I get you?”

  “I think I’ll have a beer with a back.”

  “Whiskey?”

  “Actually, I heard a rumor that if I ask you real nice, you’ll bring me a taste of some local refreshment.”

  “Who told you that?” the bartender said, now on alert.

  “Just a guy who likes to spread rumors.”

  “I hate guys like that.”

  “Me too. But sometimes the rumormongers can be useful.”

  “Useful as in finding out where to get the best local shine?”