Of Birds and Beagles

by Leslie O'Kane

  “Yeah, it was awful.” I didn’t know how that subject could have led to discussing Russell’s whereabouts, but decided to drop the subject. With Malcolm’s obvious antipathy for Russell, it could have easily been in the context of listing possible murder suspects.

  “Fang’s better behaved with you than he was with Malcolm,” Russell said to Jana.

  She rolled her eyes. “Malcolm told me about his growling at you.” She said to me, “I’ve really got my hands full with this one. Definitely not the behavior you want when you’re hunting small game.”

  “Is it going to be okay that Fang will be displaying bad hunting-dog behavior to the puppies?”

  She curled her lip. “It’s not ideal, for sure. But we’ll be fine. Malcolm had to go back to work after his lunch break. This is his grandparents’ property that we’re going to. Otherwise he’d be able to come with us today.” She gave Fang a pat. “We both would have loved that, wouldn’t we, Good Boy,” Jana said to the dog. I inwardly cringed at the idea. Jana, on the other hand, wore the goofy grin of the truly smitten at the thought of Malcolm.

  A squeal of brakes sounded outside, followed by a chorus of honks. Fang started to bark and tried to run toward the door, but Jana had a strong grip on his leash. Startled, Russell once again took a hasty step back from Fang’s sudden motion. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments. I could see both fear and shame in his. I didn’t have the option of training a dog for Russell so we could all traipse through a sun-dappled field together.

  We said our goodbyes, and Jana and I left together. We lost several minutes due to my insisting on climbing into the back of her SUV with the four adorable puppies and playing with them a little before we took off. Jana understood, of course. As if anybody could have resisted four incredibly adorable puppies! Eventually I tore myself away and got into the front passenger seat. She pointed out a small scratch on my cheek where one of the little rascals had caught me with a claw. I didn’t mind. Roses have thorns. Puppies have claws.

  We headed north out of town. “Your boyfriend is sweet,” Jana said to me.

  “Yes, he is. But he has a phobia about dogs.”

  “You’re kidding! That must be dreadful for you!”

  “It’s really discouraging. And now he wants me to move to Seattle with him.”

  “Ouch,” Jana said gently. “That’s a much bigger commitment than my training Malcolm’s dog for free.”

  “Well, sure, but we’ve been dating for almost a year now.”

  “Malcolm and I have, too. His relationship with Kelsey happened because he and I had broken up for a few months. He moved out, and answered her room-for-rent ad on Craigslist. She turned out to be a nympho and threw herself at him. It wasn’t his fault.”

  “He’s not living with you now, though, is he?”

  “Not really, no. He wanted to live by himself, once he dumped Kelsey. He’s a little gun-shy after that experience. But he spends most nights at my place, even so.”

  Her words were clipped, and I realized that this was not a good subject to pursue.

  “So, must of the time,” Jana continued, “we’ve got a full house; the two of us, and Jasper and Jasmine, my two grown bird dogs, and their four puppies, which I’ve already sold but won’t go to their owners until they’re fully trained and a year old, and a two-year-old Doberman.” She gritted her teeth. “Who’s still alive, no thanks to Kelsey and her anti-freeze.”

  “The meatball was in Shirley’s yard, though. For what it’s worth, Kelsey told me she didn’t have any poisoned meat in the yard while Fang was there.”

  Jana snorted. “I don’t believe anything that woman says. She hates Fang. It might be my jealousy talking, but I think she went into a rage and imagined killing Fang to get back at Malcolm for leaving her. She might have wanted the poisoning to take place in the neighbor’s yard, though, so Malcolm wouldn’t know for certain that she did it deliberately. Fang can easily jump over the fence between their properties.”

  I took a moment to admire the passing scenery. I loved these rocky foothills, with their lodgepole pines and the brilliant-blue sky as its backdrop. I loved Colorado. I didn’t want to leave.

  “Kelsey told me that she had told Malcolm herself about her plan to poison the squirrels on Monday afternoon, while Fang was still in her yard. So Malcolm left work and picked up Fang, telling her that he wasn’t willing to trust having his dog there.”

  “That’s probably partially true,” Jana replied. “But it’s not the whole story. Malcolm told me he’d gone there to pick Fang up and found that he’d leapt over the fence into Shirley’s yard. Fang was barking to get back over the fence. He needs to get a footing on the rails, which he can’t do, because the chicken wire’s hammered in place on Shirley’s side.”

  “I see.” I couldn’t actually see how Kelsey could have been motivated to toss a poisoned meatball to Fang while he was in Shirley’s yard, however.

  “He asked me if I thought Fang could be taught both how to quit barking and how to be a good bird dog.” She chuckled. “Sometimes that’s exactly what you want your bird dog to do...bark at birds and flush them out of the field. I pointed out that Fang’s probably been barking at Mr. Magoo for a solid year or two.”

  “Aren’t you training bird dogs to flush and point at the birds, not to bark at them?”

  “Usually. But sometimes you do train a dog to bark to signal that a bird’s there. In any case, I got too late of a start on Fang to turn him into a first-rate birder. Obviously.” Her voice was a bit surly.

  “Fang lived with Magoo, right? Does living with a pet bird confuse him about hunting them?”

  “Beats me. I have to admit, I haven’t studied the issue. I’d suppose it’s like dogs that live with a cat, and yet chase neighbors’ cats off their property.”

  “Yeah, that sounds logical.”

  “Malcolm got Fang as a rescue dog. We didn’t know him as a puppy. Besides, we never intended to have him join my English pointers as bird dogs.”

  “Doberman pinschers are bred for being watchdogs, not hunters,” I remaked.

  “True. We’re really just hoping we can get him not to be a handicap when we want to go out on our weekend hunts. I think, given half a chance, Fang would probably start eating the prey.”

  While I was actively trying to rid myself of the images that gave me, she added, “There’s a great place for quails just two hours from here, if you’d like to join us hunting some weekend.”

  “No, thanks. I’m one of those people who’ll gladly eat meat, but can’t stand the thought of seeing animals getting injured, let alone killed. It even upsets me to watch fish die.”

  She shrugged. “To each her own.”

  “But I’m still looking forward to learning about your training procedures and watching the puppies run around today.”

  Jana arched her brow. “If I’m doing my job, they’ll do more than run around. They’ll actually start being able to sniff out some birds.”

  “Do you let them chase grasshoppers?”

  “All the time. Although, they tend to eat their prey. That doesn’t bother you, does it? Hunting grasshoppers, I mean?”

  I was pretty sure she was being facetious, but answered, “No, insects are at the very bottom of the food chain.”

  We pulled into a dirt road and stopped to open the gate, which had a combination lock. I offered to help but she said, “That’s all right. I’ve got it,” and hopped out. She got back into the car to pull it forward, saying, “I’m careful not to tick off Malcolm’s family. I make a point of locking the gate behind me. I don’t want to take any chances of having some kids follow us in so they can go dirt biking and wreck the fields.”

  We were soon on our way once more along the rutted dirt road. I would hate to try to navigate this particular road after a big snow storm, but we were at a makeshift parking area soon enough.

  Jana shut off the engine and popped the hatchback open. She then told the dogs to stay, which was large
ly an exercise in frustration; she realized that for herself the moment Fang disobeyed and jumped out. So we lifted each of the pups and let them dart around on the dirt by our feet.

  Jana flipped open the lid of a long, rectangular metal box that ran the length of one side of her SUV. “I store my gun cases inside a tool chest so they’re out of sight. I’ve got a pair of Winchesters that I use for bird-hunting and a pair of Rugers for deer-hunting. You’re not scared of guns, are you?”

  “Just of getting hit by their bullets.”

  “No worries. We’d only be using bird-shot, not bullets, in the Winchesters. But the guns aren’t loaded, in any case.” She lifted out a gun case and opened its numerous latches. Inside were two guns with glossy dark-brown wood on the butt end and polished chrome barrels. There were two barrels, which might have meant it was a double-barrel shotgun. I felt a little dizzy. My heartbeat increased at the sight of the weapon in her hands, and my temperature seemed to rise.

  She lifted out one of the guns. “My puppies are still really young. In another couple of weeks, we’ll want to get them accustomed to the sound of gunshots. But at this age, we’re just getting them used to scents of wildlife and so on, and of traveling with people in their hunting party carrying shotguns.”

  “I’m glad they’re not loaded, but...do we have to carry actual shotguns? I’m sorry, but I’m feeling really gun shy after finding Shirley’s body a couple of days ago.”

  She sighed audibly and put the gun back into its case. She seemed a little perturbed as she snapped all the latches back into place. While I was fully aware that I was perfectly safe around an unloaded gun, I hadn’t anticipated my strong reaction and obviously hadn’t chosen to freak out.

  “Tell you what,” Jana said. “Let’s just carry the mockup guns.” She removed two rifle-shaped pieces of wood from the tool chest, then put the gun case back inside the chest. “You have enough nightmares already, I’m sure. I don’t want to add to your PTSD.”

  “Thanks.” I truly felt less anxious when she handed me my black-painted, plywood gun. It seemed to have been built by someone tracing the outline of a rifle and then cutting along the line with a jigsaw. The butt end of the fake gun was wrapped in duct tape, as were the edges, making the plywood easy to handle and carry without getting splinters.

  We both donned bright orange vests. She put on a backpack as well, which she said she’d pre-packed with protein bars and water bottles. She handed me two leashes and kept three others, including Fang’s. We soon had snapped them on all the pups’ collars. Fang and the four English-Pointer puppies immediately got their leashes tangled.

  It was a gorgeous day. The sky was a brilliant azure, and the sun shone on the yellow aspen leaves, making them sparkle almost magically. I resisted the urge to roll around on the ground with the puppies, and dutifully played the part of a plywood-gun-toting hunter.

  We soon had led the puppies far enough away from the road that it was safe to let them off leash. Jana decided to keep Fang on leash, though, which was frustrating for him. She compensated by giving him frequent—if small—treats.

  My phone rang. When I saw that it was Kelsey, I said, “Eww. It’s Kelsey.”

  “Seriously? Did you have an appointment with her or something?”

  I shook my head and answered the call. With no preamble, Kelsey asked, “Is Jana with you? Can I talk to her for a moment? It’s important.”

  “Just a minute.” I covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Kelsey wants to talk to you. She says it’s important.”

  Jana grimaced and muttered a curse word, but took my phone. All she said was, “Yes?” Then, after listening for a few seconds, she cried, “That isn’t true! I did nothing of the kind!” A moment later, she looked at the screen and said, “She already hung up.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Jana rolled her eyes. “With no explanation whatsoever, she accused me of training Fang to attack Magoo! Furthermore, she says if Malcolm puts Fang in her yard again and he snaps at her dumb bird, she’s going to sue me and drive me out of business.”

  “Yeesh! I don’t know how she even knew that we were together.”

  “Oh, she keeps harassing Malcolm...calling him at work and practically stalking him. He must have gotten ticked off and said something about you and me teaching Fang how to kill macaws, or something.”

  “She’s a strange woman.”

  “She’s a homicidal maniac, if you ask me,” Jana grumbled. “She killed Shirley, probably for foolishly telling her the truth...that she belongs in a psycho ward, maybe. It’s clear to me that she’s given up on trying to find a new man, so she’s hounding Russell and/or Malcolm.”

  “She does seem to be trying hard to get Russ back, although I don’t know about Malcolm. She was pretty nasty to him the one time I saw them together.”

  “When was that?”

  “When I went to her house on Monday morning, to give her some tips for curtailing Fang’s barking. That was right before all the serious troubles began.”

  Jana scowled at me. “Yeah, well, believe me, Allie, she’s desperate to win Malcolm back. I’ll bet she’s figuring she can double her odds and chase after both him and Russell. She’s probably panic-stricken at the realization that she’s destroyed her every love relationship, and the alarm on her ticking clock is going off. Although her love life is the least of her concerns, now that she murdered somebody.”

  “Do you have any proof that she’s guilty?”

  “No, but, Allie, the woman is insane. She has a violent temper. She used to hit Malcolm when they argued. She’s fortunate that he’s got such a gentle soul...inside that muscular body. He would just fend her off and leave the house.”

  “Geez,” I muttered.

  “You should ask Russell if she used to hit him. Not that it matters. If she didn’t, it goes to show that she’s getting worse. She’s dangerous. I’m grateful that Malcolm only gave her the one rifle. And that the police confiscated it.”

  Chapter 15

  Although Kelsey’s phone call had spoiled my mood, it’s not possible to have a really bad day when you’re surrounded with puppies. Especially not when you’re in a gorgeous setting during a glorious autumn day in the Colorado Rockies.

  I had such a blast watching and helping Jana with her puppies that I was glad I’d indulged myself. She explained again that she had already familiarized the dogs with chasing fake birds (small beanbags with a cluster of feathers) attached to strings, so today we were merely getting them used to exploring a hunting terrain—experiencing the myriad smells and sensations, and playing with them. She did, however, demonstrate the basics of the hunting dog’s collar training on Fang. When it came to the puppies, she had them take turns wearing one of the two collars she’d brought, but strictly to get them accustomed to the sensation of wearing this type of collar without activating the electronic signals.

  For Fang, she explained that an electric pulse, which she called a “ping,” is used to get the dog’s attention for the “whoa” command, and a hidden-fence type jolt is used if the dog ignores the “whoa.” As an older-than-typical dog, Fang grasped the whoa-means-stop concept quickly, but immediately lost the urge to chase after the various small animals that the dogs came across in the craggy field that we were investigating.

  We’d probably been up here for a good ninety minutes before we reluctantly decided to head back. I adored my companions—certainly the four puppies the most, but it was also nice to talk shop with Jana. My happy mood lasted until we finished the drive home and neared my office. There I spotted Kelsey’s car illegally parked in the tiny two-car parking lot that Russ and I share. In blatant defiance of the private-parking/violators-will-be-towed sign, she’d pulled in behind our cars and halfway onto the sidewalk.

  “Is that Kelsey’s car?” Jana asked in annoyance as she pulled alongside the curb.

  “Yep.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet she’s sitting at your desk right now, flirting
shamelessly with your boyfriend.”

  “I don’t want to take that bet.” I wondered if they were talking about how happy she would be at the prospect of moving to Seattle.

  As I walked past Kelsey’s blue car, I glanced inside and spotted the bird’s safety seat on the passenger side. No sign of Magoo, however.

  My office chair was empty, but I heard Kelsey’s trilling laughter emerge through the open door to Russ’s office. I walked up to the threshold and peered at them, drinking from Starbucks coffee cups.

  “Hi, Allie,” she said as cheerfully as if we were old friends. “I brought coffee for both of you, but you weren’t here, so I started drinking one.” She held her cup out. “You can have the rest, if you don’t mind sharing a few germs.”

  “No, thanks. I draw the line at sharing lipstick.”

  She looked at the cup’s once-white sipper-lid and said, “I see what you mean.” Then she let out another of her trilling ha-ha-ha-has. “As I was telling Rusty, I kind of envy you two for moving to the home-base of the mighty Starbucks.”

  She held her cup toward Russ’s as if to clink glasses after a toast. Russ paled a little and didn’t move his cup one iota. She tapped their cups together even so. He gave me a sheepish grin. My stomach muscles clenched as if involuntarily preparing for a sucker punch. Apparently Russell had let it slip that he was moving to Seattle.

  “I’m miserable in my house now,” Kelsey continued. “They let me move back home last night. I feel like a sitting duck. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of Shirley...how she was shot a couple of feet from my bed. I imagine a bullet ripping through my body. I need to sell the place and move someplace else. To get a fresh start. Someplace where I feel safer.”

  “That’s rough,” Russell told her. “But you can just wait this out, right? Wasn’t this your first night back? Give yourself a chance to cope with the circumstances of Shirley’s death.”

  She was already shaking her head. “I’m scared to death when I’m alone. I see that madwoman, Tracy, barreling toward me whenever I’m in my living room or kitchen or anywhere near the front door. I see Shirley’s body whenever I’m in my bedroom. I’ve moved into the spare bedroom. I bring Magoo with me so I won’t be alone. But now I miss having Fang there. I could use the protection.”