Dog Drama

by Leslie O'Kane

  “What do you think?” John asked, springing to his feet.

  “It’s an absolutely amazing scene to watch,” Karen said.

  “It truly is,” Sally said. (After “Blue” had shut the door on her, she had come around to a side entrance and watched from the seats.)

  “But more than a little risky to do live,” Baxter said.

  “That’s why I needed Flint in the role.” John was grinning ear to ear. He stood next to the stage, rocking from foot to foot with energy. “Sorry, guys, but we’ve just got to run this one more time so Valerie can see it.” He strode up the aisle, chuckling. “Watch,” he told us. “Bet you everything goes wrong once Valerie’s in the audience.” He then shouted, “Crew! Set us up for one last run-through!”

  Just as the door swung shut behind him, Sam rounded the stage flats and hopped down to our level. He grinned at Baxter and me. “Did that scene look as good from the seats as I think it did?” he asked.

  “It sure did,” I said. “We were just talking about how amazing Flint is. I wouldn’t even dream of training Pavlov to do all of that in less than a month.”

  “No kidding. That’s Flint for you. The smartest dog I ever met.”

  “I can’t argue with you,” I said, “and I’ve met literally hundreds of dogs.”

  “I just wish my brother had lived to see this. Once we get all the kinks worked out, I mean. And once Flint’s on Broadway.”

  “From your lips to God’s ear,” Karen said.

  A hinge on the door squeaked. I turned to look. John strolled down the aisle toward us. Flint had spotted his owner returning, and leapt to his feet, his tail wagging. He started to trot up to the front of the stage, but froze when he assessed his owner’s mood. Although John had been smiling at first, his expression morphed into an angry glare. He marched toward Sam. A few steps behind him, Valerie was following him into the theater, looking worried. This must have been John’s first encounter with Sam since getting out of the hospital.

  He pointed at Sam. “You’re fired!”

  Chapter 11

  Valerie picked up her stride. “Actually, he isn’t,” she said to John. “I put Sam on notice yesterday morning. Which I decided was the appropriate response to my employee’s actions to date.”

  “And I intend to be a model employee from here on out,” Sam told her. He shifted his gaze to John. “I’m turning a new leaf. Coming in on time. Checking all the nuts and bolts and loose screws around this joint.”

  John glowered at Sam. “Valerie’s your boss. So I can’t fire you from the Creede Playhouse. But I am revoking the contract you and I have. It’s now null and void. You tried to kill me!”

  I had to all but literally bite my tongue. John was leaping to conclusions again. Sam struck me as by far the most convenient person for John to suspect, which did not make him guilty—or innocent.

  “Give me a break,” Sam protested. “I had nothing to do with the sloppy work on the overhead lights, or your poisoning-by-wildflower.”

  “I don’t trust a single word you say.”

  “Whatever, dude. I’ll have a lawyer contact you.”

  “Like you could afford a lawyer.”

  Sam snorted. He turned toward Valerie. “I’ve got to go meet that guy in North Creede...with the railroad ties he wants to donate to us.”

  “Thanks, Sam,” she said, watching John all the while.

  Sam stormed up the aisle.

  “You and I need to talk,” Valerie said to John under her breath. She trotted after Sam.

  The actors took it on themselves to leave the stage. Flint was watching John with his ears back. He was ready to jump between his owner and anyone confronting him. Pavlov had sat up, also alert. I kept telling myself to keep my mouth shut. Sam might indeed have been behind the poisoning, but it seemed just as likely that Felicity or one of the actors was guilty. Furthermore, John had just now validated my suspicion that he’d planned to give Sam short shrift all along.

  “What are you doing, John?” Baxter asked quietly, as all the actors found other places to be and wandered offstage. “You can’t be certain he was behind the poisoning.”

  “Maybe not, but I am certain he’s making me miserable. I tried to help him out. This is the thanks I get.”

  “You think you deserve thanks for cheating Sam’s brother out of the victory he deserved in the herding competition?”

  “Flint lost because of lousy luck...and being off his game. There was this one sheep that—”

  “Enough B.S., John!” Baxter growled. “I thought you were a standup guy, all this time! The least you can do is not lie to my face!”

  For a moment, John looked pale and unsteady on his feet. He dropped into the nearest seat on the aisle. “Look, Baxter. There’s a lot of rancid water under this bridge. Truth is, I’m not proud of myself for what I did two years ago. The way I acted back then...that isn’t me.”

  I studied Baxter’s face, wondering if he was reminding himself that he and John had met and became friends three years ago, when John was or wasn’t himself.

  “I got into some real bad habits,” John continued. “Snorting cocaine, for one. So, yeah, I was desperate for they money I felt Flint alone could help me earn. I was too broke to pay what he was worth. So I took the only way out I could find. I bribed some roadie who was feeding and cleaning up after the pens to make sure Flint didn’t win. I had him plant a dime-sized electronic speaker near one of the sheep’s ears and take it off right after the event. I’ve hated myself long enough. Once I found out his brother died, I tried to make amends. I gave Sam the chance to get his feet back under him. That’s more than most people would do. And I’m the guy who can make Flint a bigshot on stage. I’m telling you, he’s so smart he can be right up there with that dog, Eddie, on Frasier.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from growling in disgust. Both he and Baxter looked at me. “Dogs don’t care about fame and money. Only the people in the dog’s pack care about that stuff.”

  John spread his arms. “That’s why I wanted the Geller name to be famous for training him. Along with training all of the future ‘Blues.’ But that obviously isn’t in the cards. Sam hates me and wants me dead.”

  “Sometimes that’s the way it goes,” Baxter retorted. “Sometimes when you cheat someone, they don’t forgive you...and their lives remain screwed up permanently.”

  “That’s not what’s happening here. Sam has always been a screw up. He didn’t need my help to get him there. His brother was the one with all the smarts and the class. He’s the one I’d give anything to set things right with. I didn’t know he had a terminal disease. I swear to God I didn’t. I got the damned ball rolling, and I just...I just didn’t know how to stop it.”

  “I have a couple of ideas,” I said, getting to my feet. “How about contacting the Denver Stock Show and telling the officials what you did? How about contacting the reporter who wrote the story about Geller’s dog’s unexpected loss and explaining that he hadn’t lost? You can let the man have his competition record restored posthumously, like he’d deserved!” My righteous anger was morphing into tears. I was too choked up to continue talking. I turned on a heel and left.

  I went to the women’s room and collected myself. I also chastised myself for leaving both Baxter and Pavlov in the lurch just now. Maybe Baxter would better understand than I could how his friend got to such a nadir. And why he’d ignored the chance to atone. All John had ever needed to do was hire Sam as “Blue’s” trainer, from the very first minute he’d arrived, seeking employment.

  ***

  I returned to the auditorium and quickly found Baxter. He was standing in a back corner, looking at his cell phone. I walked up to him. He grabbed my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You were right about John. Sorry I got you into this mess.”

  “That’s not your fault. Besides, I’m not sorry I’m here. Working with Flint has been a joy.”

  “Which is a lot more than we can say about his ruthless owner.”


  “Even so, I’d like to see if we can get Flint through at least two flawless performances, like we originally agreed when we took this job.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Let’s see if we can get the actors back out here for at least one run through of all the scenes that Flint’s in.”

  Baxter shook his head. “John told them all to leave, and to be back here at six.” He put his phone in his back pocket.

  I couldn’t resist giving Baxter a hug. “Where’s John now?”

  “He said he was going to try and track down Sam and have a long, honest conversation with him.”

  “Maybe they can come to terms. Maybe he’ll see fit to hire Sam as Blue’s permanent trainer...meaning both Flint and Pippa. We’ll be gone in another five days. He could take over then.”

  Baxter gave me a look that meant he was more cynical than I was. “That’d be nice. If the police get to the bottom of the poisoning, and Sam’s cleared.”

  My mood picked up when I saw Flint was sharing his bed with Palov. The dogs were facing opposite directions, their backs pressed together as they snoozed.

  “John also said he’d leave it up to you to decide if you want to give Blue’s cues tonight, or if you’d rather he do it.”

  “I’d like to. We’d better get something to eat. Then let’s take the dogs out for a hike. The fresh air will do us all some good. Besides, it’s therapeutic for Flint, and that’s what I’m here for.”

  “Preaching to the choir,” Baxter said with a grin. “It was getting late, so I already ordered a couple of pizzas. I figured there’ll be somebody else who missed lunch. It shouldn’t be hard to find takers for a few slices.”

  “Good idea.” I headed toward the stairs. “I’m going to go ask Felicity if she’s hungry. I want to see Pippa’s outfit.”

  I must have said Pippa’s name too loudly. She was already barking and running down the stairs. She was wearing a dark-brown fake-mink cape, and a matching pill-box hat.

  ***

  Less than an hour later, I’d proven to myself that Flint knew the role of Blue backwards and forwards. All I had to do was say the right commands at the right time, keep my voice level and enunciate carefully. He could do the rest.

  Greg’s and my eyes happened to meet as I was trying to gauge what I should do next. He had some tomato sauce on his cheek, which he realized on his own. He shook his head amiably. “Another late lunch eaten while standing on my feet in a dusty, dark wing of the stage.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “Allie, when’s the next run through?” Karen asked.

  “Maybe never,” I said. “Certainly not today.”

  “You’re calling it a day?” Greg asked.

  “Yeah. Just doesn’t look to me like the dog needs another rehearsal, and you all certainly don’t need one.”

  “Great,” Greg said. “I’ll tell Sally and Hammond. I’m sure they’re arguing somewhere. This will cheer them up.”

  He left.

  I looked at Baxter. “Good decision, Allie.” He grabbed the dogs’ leashes and proceeded to snap them onto their collars. Both dogs were wagging their tails so strongly that their rear ends were also moving from side to side.

  “Border Collies need a lot of daily exercise, and it strikes me as possible that his having been fully exercised prior to going on stage in his role could be really helpful to his performance.”

  “All the better, then,” Baxter said, handing me Pavlov’s leash. “Oh, actually, let’s switch leashes. “Seeing as you’re on the clock, you should—”

  “Hey, guys,” Karen said. I wasn’t sure if the “guys” referred to the dogs or Baxter and me. She was already joyfully greeting both dogs with ear rubs and exuberant praise. She straightened. “I hate to rain on your parade, but we only have two hours.”

  I glanced at my watch. “It’s not even two p.m. The play doesn’t—”

  “I went out front to grab a coffee a few minutes ago. I bumped into John on the way back. He said we’re all meeting at four. He claimed he just needed a nap, then would be right back.” She took a long look at Flint, then at me. “Are you already planning to be giving Blue’s commands tonight, I hope?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Oh, good. I hope John gets some rest. He was all sweaty and ashen looking, and I had visions of him passing out again.”

  “We’ll be ready. And Flint seems to be on top of his game.”

  “He did great on that scene John added toward the end of the play. Are you going to try that on for size tonight?” Karen asked, smiling. “I love that scene.”

  “We’re going to talk to John about it first. Probably tomorrow or Thursday night would be better.”

  We started to head for the exit. “Are you taking the dogs for a walk?” Karen asked. “And if so, can I join you?”

  “Yes, to both questions,” I said. I was eager to get a chance to know Karen better. We’d spoken only a little, and I felt that of everyone in the cast, she might give me the most unbiased take on how John behaved around his dog. Maybe I could swing the conversation around to John giving his dog tranquilizers.

  “We were talking about more of a hike than a walk,” Baxter said. “John told me there was a nice path up to the original location of Creede and toward Inspiration Point.”

  “Great idea,” Karen said. “I know exactly where that is. John and I took Flint for a walk there just last week. There’s a nice view. We’ll just avoid going up to the rim. He told me he didn’t want Flint near it. They did a lot of surface mining there, and it’s pretty much an open pit. He was afraid Flint would fall and hurt himself.”

  Chapter 12

  Karen explained that dirt road we were walking along was taking us into the silver mining district of Bachelor Loop, which I decided was a less daunting name than Widower’s Loop. From the moment we started walking, Flint seemed to be tracking some familiar scent. For my part, as soon as I saw how sandy the soil was along the fairly inclined path, I could see why John didn’t want his dog running to the edge of a steep drop-off. Not to mention me and my stupid fear of heights. I had no intention of going near the thing.

  “Does John take Flint on this hike often?” I asked Karen.

  “At least three times a week,” she said. She pointed at what looked like a dilapidated building ahead of us. “That’s the Commodore Mine. But that’s another site to avoid. All of those yellowish, jagged boulders are waste rock that’s contaminated Willow Creek with heavy metals. John doesn’t like to have Flint climb on them.”

  “I don’t blame him,” I said, even though there was something truly majestic about the site. The view appeared to be broadening into a breathtaking scene. We headed along the trail to the right instead.

  Flint was really pulling, whatever scent he was following seemingly stronger here. He clearly wanted me to break into a sprint. Pavlov, too, was not maintaining her heel position, eager to keep up with Flint.

  “Do you mind if I hold his leash?” Karen asked. “I really miss Sandy, my Collie.”

  Baxter had Pavlov’s leash, so I was going to have both of my hands free, and frankly, that was probably wise. Her mention of a “rim” made me worried that I might need to lie flat and hug the ground at some point. I gave her Flint’s leash. “My mom has a Collie named Sage,” I told Karen.

  “Aren’t they just a wonderful breed?” she asked.

  “One of my favorites. I have a Cocker and a King Charles Cavalier at home. At my mother’s house, actually. Along with her new husband’s Golden, they have four dogs.”

  “Where do they live? Boulder?”

  “Berthoud.”

  She nodded as if she knew that small town’s location.

  “Are you a native Coloradoan?” I asked.

  “I am, actually. Born and raised in Denver.”

  “I’m a native Coloradoan, too.”

  “How about you, Baxter?”

  “Moved here from Chicago,” he a
nswered with a grin.

  “Did you know anybody in the cast or at the theater before you took the role?” I asked Karen.

  “Only by reputation. Both Hammond and Sally are much better known than I am. I’ve been a member of the Actors Guild for longer, though.”

  “What about Greg?”

  She hesitated. “He was making a big name for himself on the stage as a young actor. Unfortunately, he got into some trouble with the law. Drunk driving. He was a real natural, from what I’ve heard. He’s been remaking his image, though.”

  “Huh,” I said. If we knew each other better, I’d have told her that he was the weak link in the play. “From the performances I’ve seen, he gave his best performance last night in the final act.”

  “Stage magic,” she said with a nod. She smiled, while keeping her eyes focused on the path ahead of us. “That’s one of the reasons I’ve hung in there with my spotty career. I live for the exhilaration I get when I and everyone in the scene with me catches fire. It’s like nothing else. You no longer feel like you’re reciting lines. You’re simply speaking your mind. You’ve melded with your character so completely, you’re one and the same.”

  Our conversation lagged as we made our way around a craggy jag in the path. It appeared to me as if the dogs were leading us off course, but I assumed that was due to John avoiding the rim; Flint was striding with the confidence of a dog on a familiar trail.

  “How’s John as a director?” Baxter asked.

  Karen peered at him and chuckled a little. “He’s getting the job done, let’s say. I imagine that it’s hard to direct your own work. He’s chosen not to get the perspective of an experienced director.”

  “I would imagine getting an outsider’s opinion with lots of experience would have been wiser,” I said. “Just in terms of being logical.”

  Karen made no comment.

  “There is certainly plenty of backstage drama going on,” I prodded. “Is that typical for stage productions?”

  “Thankfully, no. But, drama is the lifeblood of all of us. So things do tend to get blown out of proportion in this business.”