The Case of the Quizzical Queens Beagle

by B R Snow

  “I’m glad you shot him,” Josie said.

  “So, you’ve forgiven me?” I said, glancing over at her with a grin.

  “Not a chance,” she said, slugging me hard on the shoulder.

  The punch, along with my outburst it generated, got us a stern look of rebuke from my mother.

  “Knock it off,” she whispered through clenched teeth.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I whispered, leaning toward her. “But she hit me.”

  “That’s nothing like I’m going to do to you if you don’t shut up,” my mother said with another violent whisper.

  For a moment, I was transported back to my childhood as I remembered how many times she had used the identical threat on me. I sat back in my seat, chagrined.

  “This is all your fault,” I whispered.

  But Josie was staring wide-eyed out at the circus ring, and I followed her eyes. The elephant, who must have heard my outburst, was slowly walking directly toward me. Master Claude was doing his best to get the elephant’s attention and refocused on the act, but the gigantic beast was ignoring him. The crowd emitted a nervous titter as the elephant walked toward the edge of the ring, and several people gasped and froze in their seats in fear. The elephant, obviously recognizing me, came to a stop directly in front of my seat and gently draped its trunk over my shoulder. I stroked it, and the crowd began to laugh and applaud.

  Then the elephant began poking its trunk into the big bag of peanuts sitting on Josie’s lap.

  “Hey,” Josie said to the elephant. “Get your own bag.”

  Soon, the entire bag had disappeared, and the elephant turned its head when Master Claude jerked the back of its ear with the bullhook. The elephant expelled a torrent of peanuts from its trunk that hit the trainer with surprising force right in the face. Master Claude grabbed his eye then hit the elephant hard with the long pole, and the audience immediately turned on him and began to boo.

  Seconds later, the lights dimmed, and Mr. Pontilly raced into the ring under the spotlight and announced intermission. I remained in my seat and gave the elephant’s trunk one final stroke. Then the animal turned and slowly walked back through the curtains without any assistance from the embarrassed and enraged Master Claude. Both men chatted angrily with each other as they followed the elephant then glanced over their shoulders and glared at me as the lights came up.

  “Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” Rooster said, laughing.

  “Well played,” Josie said, patting my hand.

  “I can’t take you anywhere,” my mother said, shaking her head.

  “What was I supposed to do, Mom?” I said, getting to my feet. “The elephant walked right up to me.”

  “Serves him right,” Chef Claire said. “Did you see the way he treated that poor animal?”

  “I did,” my mother said. “And it’s despicable.” Then she wheeled on me. “But that doesn’t excuse your behavior, young lady.”

  “Relax, Mom,” I said. “No harm, no foul. And the crowd loved it. Did you see the way those peanuts came out of its trunk? It was like the elephant was using a machine gun. Remind me to bring a bag of hard candy tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, I’m not coming back tomorrow,” Josie said, spotting the two clowns who were mingling with the crowd.

  “Coward,” I said, laughing.

  “Are you kidding?” she said. “I almost peed my pants when I saw that clown’s foot next to me.”

  “Yeah, I thought that was a nice touch on his part,” I said.

  “Enjoy it while you can,” Josie said. “Your day is coming.”

  “Josie,” my mother said, focusing her laser-stare on her. “Whatever you plan to do as payback, just make sure you don’t pull any shenanigans at the wedding. Got it?”

  “I wouldn’t think of doing something like that, Mrs. C.,” Josie said. “I’m thinking about saving it for their honeymoon.”

  “That would be fine,” my mother said, grinning at me.

  “C’mon, Doctor Doolittle,” Josie said. “I’ll buy you some ice cream.”

  “No, thanks,” I said, glancing around the crowd. “I need to go have a chat with somebody, and the ice cream would probably melt by the time I got back.”

  “I’d never let that happen,” Josie said, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, I forgot who I was talking to for a moment,” I said, finally spotting the man I was looking for standing in a long line. “But I think I will get one of those sausage and pepper sandwiches.”

  Chapter 18

  I slid into the sandwich line directly behind Bobbie, aka Robert Tompkins, caretaker of the old woman with the rotating head. I got my first good look at him and decided he was somewhere in his early sixties. He was over six-feet tall and still had a full head of unkempt, salt and pepper hair. I tried to formulate my opening question, but the smell of Italian sausage and onions and peppers sizzling and snapping on an enormous grill captured and held my attention for several seconds.

  “That smells incredible,” I said, deciding it wasn’t a bad opener and might provoke a response.

  “It certainly does,” Bobbie said, turning his head around. Then he flinched when he eventually recognized me. “You.”

  “Me?” I said, going for coy. “Do I know you?”

  “I saw you and your cop friend driving out of Bella’s place the other day,” he said, giving me the once-over.

  “Oh, that’s right. Now I remember,” I said, nodding. “You were driving the red truck.”

  “You really upset her,” Bobbie said. “It took me the rest of the day to get her settled down.”

  “That certainly wasn’t our intention,” I said, taking a step forward as the line moved. “But since we were giving her the news about Samantha, it only makes sense that she’d be upset, right?”

  “Yeah, I suppose it does,” he said, exhaling loudly.

  “By the way, I’m Suzy Chandler,” I said, extending my hand.

  “Bob. Bob Tompkins,” he said, returning the handshake. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, you caught me,” I said, grinning at him. “How’s she doing?”

  “Bella’s pretty much back to normal,” he said.

  I frowned, and he didn’t miss the look on my face.

  “Well, normal for her,” he said.

  “How long has Mrs. Johnson been like that?”

  “A very long time.”

  “And you look after her to keep her from being institutionalized?”

  “That’s part of it,” he said, taking another step closer to the promised land.

  “There’s more?” I said, cocking my head at him.

  “That’s really none of your business, is it?” he said, his eyes narrowing.

  “No, I’m sure it’s not,” I said, shrugging. “I’m just curious about a few things.”

  “Like what?” he said as we approached the head of the line.

  “Mrs. Johnson said that you hadn’t been around for a few days.”

  I glanced at the grill and tried to decide which Italian sausage had my name on it.

  “So?”

  “So, nothing,” I said, shrugging. “Like I said, I’m just curious.”

  “You ever hear the expression that curiosity killed the cat?” he said, also checking out what was on the grill.

  “Sure,” I said. “But I’m more of a dog person.”

  “Good for you,” he said, then turned to the person taking orders. “One sausage and pepper sandwich, please.”

  “Make that two, please,” I said, peering over his shoulder and pointing. “And could I have that sausage right there?”

  “Does it really matter which one they give you?” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

  “Attention to detail always matters. Especially when it comes to food,” I said. “How long have you lived in Bucks Bridge?”

  “Thirty-two years,” he said, reaching into his pocket.

  “No, these are on me,” I said, glancing
at the drink choices. “I think I’ll have a beer. Can I get you one?”

  “That sounds good,” he said, putting his wallet away. “Thanks. Do you usually make it a point to buy food for strangers?”

  “We’re really not strangers anymore, Bob,” I said, handing over a pair of twenties to our server. “Keep the change.” I accepted my sandwich and beer and took a sip to minimize the spill factor once I started walking. “I noticed some picnic tables outside when I came in. You want to go sit down?”

  “Lead the way,” he said, taking a long sip from his cup of Labatts.

  We sat down at an empty table across from each other and spent a few minutes in silence as we worked our way through our sandwiches. There’s something about eating sausage and peppers outside in the fresh air that always puts a smile on my face. I wiped my mouth with a napkin then took another sip of beer as I watched a solitary speedboat cruise upriver on top of the calm water against the backdrop of a gorgeous sunset.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I said.

  “Well, since you bought me dinner, how can I say no?” he said, polishing off the last of his sandwich.

  “You really enjoy the circus, don’t you?” I said, taking a sip of beer and staring at him over the top of my cup.

  “Not really,” he said, shaking his head. Then he stared across the table at me. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, since this is at least the second time you’ve been to this show, I just assumed you were a big fan.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he was confused by my comment.

  “Second time?”

  “Yes, tonight, and last month in Brockville,” I said, setting my beer down. “You were there, weren’t you?”

  “How the hell did you know that?”

  “Lucky guess,” I said with a shrug. “I could eat another one of those sandwiches.”

  “Me too,” he said, still baffled by the fact I knew he’d been at the Brockville performance. “Did you see me over there at the show?”

  “No,” I whispered. Then I stared into his eyes. “But how else was Samantha going to get home if you didn’t show up to give her a ride?”

  “Who are you?” he said, his eyes wide.

  “I’m Suzy,” I said, gulping down the last of my beer.

  “You and that cop think I might have been involved with what happened to Sammy, don’t you?” he said, sliding his cup of beer to one side.

  I thought about his question for several seconds as I glanced back out at the River. The memory of seeing Queen B. perched on the channel marker and the sight of Samantha stuffed inside the body bag flared, and a thought that had been nagging at me surfaced. I finally made eye contact and shook my head.

  “Not unless you were on that boat,” I said. “And the only way you could have been on the boat was if you worked for the circus.”

  “Maybe I was a stowaway,” he said, reaching for his beer.

  “Hiding out among the tigers, right?” I said, grinning.

  “There you go,” he said, smiling. “No, I wasn’t on the boat. And I’m sure U.S. and Canadian Immigration have me and my truck on video crossing back and forth at Ogdensburg that night.”

  “Excellent point,” I said, officially crossing him off my list of suspects. “Samantha had dropped a hint to her mother about a surprise.”

  “She did,” Bobbie said. “But I had no idea what it was.”

  “She wouldn’t tell you?”

  “No, she was afraid I was going to blab to Bella and ruin the surprise,” he said, draining the last of his beer and crushing the paper cup onto a ball. “I guess we’ll never know now.”

  “It was a toy beagle,” I said. “Actually, she’s a Queens Beagle.”

  He stared at me in disbelief.

  “Really?” he said, then waited for me to confirm it with a nod. “Wow. Sammy really was trying to see if they might be able to get back to what she called happier times.”

  “Happier? Everything I’ve heard is that her childhood was horrible,” I said, frowning.

  “Oh, it was miserable,” he said. “Except for the dogs. It was the one thing Sammy and Bella could do together in relative peace and quiet.”

  “And she thought it was time to see if she and her mom could recreate a piece of her childhood,” I said, out loud to myself as I again stared out at the River that was quickly slipping into darkness.

  “Yeah,” Bobbie whispered. “She wanted to at least give it a shot.”

  “Samantha rarely wrote letters to her mom,” I said, again to myself. Then I looked across the table at him. “But she wrote to you often, didn’t she?”

  He stared back then slowly nodded.

  “The letters started coming about five years ago,” he said.

  “And she wanted you to do what, broker some sort of peace between her and her mom?”

  “Eventually,” he said. “But Sammy kept putting off coming home until the time was right. Maybe getting the dog was part of it.”

  “But why would she write to you and not her mom?” I said.

  “I was as close to bad memories as she was willing to get,” Bobbie said, shrugging. “At least, that’s what she said. I think I was some sort of lifeline for her.”

  “That’s so sad,” I whispered. “So, she told you she was working with the circus?”

  “No, absolutely not,” he said. “She never gave me an address or phone number.”

  “How did you figure it out?”

  “Recently, her letters had been arriving more frequently,” Bobbie said. “And I was able to pick up a bit of a pattern. You know, like she might be part of some group that was touring the country.”

  “Smart,” I said, nodding.

  “Thanks,” he said. “So, I did some research on all the usual suspects. Rock bands, dance troupes, you name it. But I couldn’t find anything. Then one day on a whim, I tried to put myself in her shoes. Where would I go if I wanted to get away and be around other people with similar backgrounds and not be asked a lot of questions? I hit on the idea of the circus, and sure enough, I found her with her dog act on the Pontilly website.”

  “You were going to surprise her in Brockville, weren’t you?” I said, trying to manage the jumbled thoughts and questions bouncing around my head.

  “I was,” Bobbie said. “I was worried she was getting cold feet about visiting Bella.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Her last letter mentioned coming home soon, then she said something that stuck with me.”

  “Like what?”

  “I can’t wait to see you and my mom. If I make it,” Bobbie said.

  “That’s interesting,” I said. “You were worried she was either in danger or maybe about to hurt herself?”

  “I was,” Bobbie said. “So, I decided to check out the opening night of the tour in Brockville to see if I could convince her to come home with me.”

  “And when you got to Brockville, you heard that she’d jumped off the boat and drowned.”

  “Yeah, that’s the story I was told,” he said, nodding.

  “But you didn’t buy it as a suicide, right?”

  “I had my doubts. I could tell she was very excited about the prospect of reconnecting with her mom.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Bella about what happened to Samantha after you found out she was dead?”

  “I couldn’t do it,” he said, tearing up. “I was worried the news would send her to a place she wouldn’t be able to get back from.”

  “So, you decided to wait and see if the cops figured out who she was and did it for you?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m such a coward.”

  “I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself,” I said.

  “Maybe,” he said, exhaling loudly. “Do you think she killed herself?”

  “No, not a chance,” I said. “You came here tonight to see if you might be able to figure out who killed her, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” he whispered. “But I rea
lly don’t know where to start.”

  “Are you coming back tomorrow night?”

  “I certainly am,” he said. “And if necessary, my plan is to follow them on tour all summer.”

  “Oh, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I said, grinning at him. “I mean, how many sausage and pepper sandwiches can one person eat?”

  “A lot,” he said, laughing.

  “I need to ask you another question,” I said, feeling the nagging itch from a subject I thought had been put to bed.

  “Go ahead.”

  “It’s about Samantha’s beagle.”

  “What about it?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  “I have her,” I said, exhaling audibly. “And I’ve found a great home for her, but I feel compelled to ask if you think Mrs. Johnson should get the dog.”

  “No,” Bobbie said with a sad, extended shake of his head. “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “Because Mrs. Johnson is slipping away, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah,” he said, choking back his emotion. “I’m afraid she’s fading fast. And she’s getting to be too much even for me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “And you wouldn’t want the dog, right?”

  “No, that’s not possible.”

  “Because you’re not a dog person?”

  “No, that’s not it. I love dogs.”

  “Then it’s because the dog would bring back too many memories, right?”

  “Yes. And most of them bad.”

  “Okay,” I said, getting to my feet. “It looks like the show’s about to get started. I need to run. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “Sure, I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he said, staring out into the darkness. “Thanks again for the sandwich and beer.”

  “Anytime,” I said, patting his hand as I walked past him toward the tent.

  “Hey, Suzy?” he said, calling after me.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re positive she didn’t jump off that boat?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  I walked back inside the tent and headed straight for the sausage and peppers stand. I ordered six sandwiches then carried them in a box back to my seat. The Chief was standing in front of our group, laughing and chatting with my mother. He refused my offer of one of the sandwiches, and I passed them out, keeping one for myself. My mother and Chef Claire both declined, but Rooster and Paulie quickly accepted and began working their way through them. I handed one to Josie, then we both glanced down at the two that remained in the box.