Dog Drama

by Leslie O'Kane

  “Yeah, but...when Flint acts perfectly, it’ll look like I’m all the more guilty,” John said. “As if I killed him for poisoning me and screwing up my dog’s performances.” He looked almost wild with fright, and he was raising his voice. “He’s my dog and I forbid him to go on tonight. I’m taking him with me to the police station.”

  “That’s your prerogative,” I said, though he would be dooming the play to a subpar performance.

  “Don’t be foolish, John,” Valerie stated. “Leave Flint here. Let him perform. Let your dog prove that he can perform the play perfectly as written, without distractions.”

  John hesitated. He was shaking so badly you could see him tremble even at a distance. “Hell. I’ve hit rock bottom. I’ve got nothing to lose. Just...take Flint. Go ahead and put him on stage. No point in taking Flint down with me.”

  “John. You haven’t been accused of anything,” Baxter said. “You’ve hired a lawyer. Just do whatever he or she tells you to do. You’ll be all right.”

  He snorted. “We’ll pretend I believe that.”

  Sally was still sitting on the edge of the stage, her arms wrapped around herself, looking utterly miserable.

  John walked up to her and patted her knee. “Break a leg tonight.”

  She grimaced and nodded.

  “Everyone,” John said using his theatrical voice, “I want you all to give the performance of your lives tonight. For all we know, this could be our last time. The sheriff might decide to shut down the production.” He looked at me. “Allie, I want you to go for the penultimate scene, when Flint shuts Sally out of the house, and Karen comes to Hammond’s rescue.” He forced a smile. “Thanks for all the hard work you’ve put in to date. You’ve been a dream cast and crew. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  He marched up the aisle and left. Nobody said a word. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was part of the Tony-award speech he’d been envisioning delivering in another year or two.

  Valerie trotted up the steps and strode onto the center of the stage. “Let’s live up to John’s words, here, people. Time to get into costumes and makeup. Showtime in less than ninety minutes.”

  Hammond rose from his seat in the front row. “Let’s win this one for the Geller,” he said, shaking his fist. “As well as for our beleaguered director,” he added.

  Sally shot daggers at him, then got to her feet and left the stage in a huff. Felicity and the other crew members, Karen, and Greg filed out of the seats. Pippa, too, had been sitting in a seat. She hopped down and started barking at Pavlov and Flint, then dutifully turned and trotted after Felicity. She must have decided the faux fur cape and were too hot for Pippa; she was now wearing what looked like a Brownie Uniform with a vest and cap.

  Karen gave me a sad smile. “The show must go one,” she said.

  “Must it?” I asked. “Are you all going to remember your lines, and everything?”

  She nodded. “Pretending to be someone else tonight is going to be the easy part.” She went up the steps to the stage, heading to the dressing room, I assumed. She already had her water bottle, I saw.

  I took a seat and started petting both of the dogs, more to steady my own nerves than anything else. Baxter took the seat beside me and gave me a hug. “We have to give John plenty of slack. Assuming he truly is innocent, which I honestly believe he is, he’s put himself in a terrifying situation.”

  “Yeah. He sure has.” I looked into Baxter’s dark brown eyes. “Are you confident he didn’t just...lose his temper and act out of blind rage?”

  “Not really. I’d like to think he is innocent. I mean, we used to talk for hours. Hell, he was one of the few people I talked to about you. How you were dating this other guy and I knew I should back off. He was the one who told me to go with my gut. Try to let you know that you were special to me and I was willing to move heaven and earth for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really, Allie. I owe him. He was so happy when I told him you and I were together. And I was so proud to be able to show you off to him.”

  “That makes me feel all the worse about the mess he’s in. But I’m glad you told me. I understand a little better now how he wound up being your friend, despite his faults.”

  “Right. He gave me great advice. Even though he’s turned out to be a pretty big jerk.”

  “You took the words out of my mouth,” I replied, looking down at Flint, who was lying by my feet at the end of the aisle.

  A minute or two ago, John had walked right past his dog, without any acknowledgement, let alone the slightest sign of affection.

  Chapter 14

  “While the actors are getting ready, how about we do a sound check on your headset and Blue’s speaker?” Baxter suggested.

  “Can we wait half an hour or so?” I asked. “I want to just goof around with Flint for a while.”

  “Sure thing. Actually, I’ll just test it with Pavlov, then I’ll take her back to the hotel. It’s probably best for Flint to be the only dog in sight during his performance.”

  “Thanks, honey. I love you forever.”

  “Love you forever, too,” he replied. It was our special phrase. I believed it with my whole heart. Today, Sam Geller’s “forever” had come to an abrupt end. Did he have a lover somewhere—current or former?

  I had a pang as I remembered my former boyfriend, Russell, and how that had all come undone. As good as Baxter and I had proven to be ever since we started dating a year ago, I hated that I’d hurt Russell so badly. A huge part of what was wrong between us was that he’d harbored a deep-seated fear of dogs. He’d moved to Seattle. I truly hoped he’d met a cat-lover there, and that they were living happily ever after.

  I shook my head, trying to dispel all thoughts other than my work with Flint. The most important thing I could do to help Flint perform was to use this time building his trust and confidence in his working with me. That’s one of the first tips I give to new owners of an untrained dog. After having provided a safe haven, where the dog was unable to bolt out the door, jump the fence, or ingest anything harmful, for the first couple of days, no thought should be given to training, but rather to getting to know each other. Spend quality time together. Roll a ball across the floor. Squeeze the dog’s squeaker toy. Even a rescued dog that is so shy and skittish that he needs initially to remain in his crate will assimilate the best by having his owner sit on the floor next to the crate and talk to him. Even if the “talking” consists of a newspaper read aloud.

  I led Flint across the stage and into the back hallway. Valerie was leaning against a wall near the rear stage door. She looked worried. I walked up to her. “Are you okay?”

  “Depends on your definition of ‘okay.’ I just—” She shut her eyes and let out a deep breath. She opened them and looked at me. “A man is dead who used to work for me. Nobody seems to think it was an accident. I was told he died from a steep fall.”

  I nodded. I didn’t want to muddy the investigation and explain that the bloodied rock on top of the ledge meant he was likely bludgeoned prior to his landing in the bottom of the pit. “It’s really hard to conceive all the calamities that have occurred in the last couple of days. It’s been staggering.”

  “Are you going to be able to step in for John again?” she asked, her eyes searching mine as if she was trying to assess my truthfulness. “Is Flint truly ready for this?”

  “I think so. Flint’s a remarkable dog. He would probably do fine with anybody reading the cues to him.”

  “All right then. We’ll go ahead and bet the farm on the dog.” She smiled at Flint and gave him a pat. “You be a good Blue tonight.”

  He wagged his tail in response.

  “Bet the farm on the dog?” I repeated. “The show’s entire run has sold out. Am I missing something here?”

  She furrowed her brow. “If the sheriff decides to shut us down for the next five weeks, they might as well hand us an eviction notice. We won’t be able to keep our heads above wa
ter, financially.”

  “Why would they do that?” I asked. “A theater is a small business. The sheriff wouldn’t close down a business because one of its employees was killed.”

  She squared her shoulders and said, “Well, sure,” as if that was a definitive statement that answered my question. “I’m going to check in with the actors.” She marched off.

  Preferring Flint’s company to hers anyway, I patted his shoulder. I remembered only then that Flint hadn’t been fed yet. The sheriff had brought us all here instead of our hotel. We would have to feed him from Pippa’s stash—being careful to give him nothing but kibble.

  “Let’s get you some dinner.” He wagged his tail. I loved that. Waggy-tailed dogs never failed to cheer me. It’s such a compliment when dogs wagged their tails as you neared them—provided of course they aren’t growling as well. To me, tails represented the purity of a dog’s emotions.

  Flint and I trotted up the stairs. I dumped out and then refilled the water bowl, then scooped a cup of kibble into the food bowl. After checking carefully for chocolate masquerading as kibble, I mixed warm water into it—stirring it only because the appearance of gravy appealed to my esthetics; I’d yet to meet a dog that objected to unstirred food.

  Felicity and Pippa entered the room just then, Pippa barking at Flint for happening to be eating his dinner in her bowl, just when she was expecting to be eating hers.

  “Whoops,” Felicity said. “Bad timing.”

  “My fault,” I said. “I should have checked with you first. I didn’t get the chance to feed Flint his dinner. The police brought us straight here.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m a full hour late feeding Pippa tonight, too. It’s just been...such a crappy day.”

  “Sure has,” I said. Her eyes were puffy. “Did you know Sam well?”

  She shook her head. “He kept to himself. He told me once that John had told him to mind his own business and do his job. Now John’s persistence at being the boss of everyone in his life has made him a murder suspect.”

  “He says he’s innocent.” I was repeating something she already knew, but I hoped she’d proffer her opinion.

  “He probably is,” Felicity said. “He has a bad temper and he’s always making impetuous decisions. Always looking out for Number One. But not too long ago, I loved him dearly. I’d hate to think I could be so wrong about the man.”

  Pippa was still barking at Flint, but less frequently.

  “I know what you mean. I don’t want Baxter to be thinking how a friend of his turned out to be a murderer. I’d like the police to discover it was someone from Sam’s past that did this. Someone entirely unconnected to the theater.”

  “You and me both,” Felicity said.

  Greg entered the room and strode toward Flint. “How’s our doggie star doing?” he said and leaned down to pat Flint on the head.

  “Wait!” I cried, a moment too late.

  Flint growled and snapped at Greg.

  “Hey! What the hell!” Greg exclaimed, jerking his hand back.

  “You startled him while he’s eating,” I explained. “A high percentage of dogs will snap if their meals are suddenly interrupted by someone they don’t know well.”

  “He’s never been vicious until now,” Greg said, seemingly oblivious to my explanation. “He’s too keyed up, is what’s happening. He found a dead, bloody body just a few hours ago. Sorry, but I am not going to let myself get bit by a dog on stage.”

  “You’re overreacting,” Felicity said. “He simply snapped in the air. That doesn’t mean he would have bitten you. It is an instinctive warning, dating back to his wolf ancestors.”

  “Right. Flint’s merely saying to you, ‘Hey! I’m eating here! This is mine!’”

  Unfortunately, Valerie rushed into the room. “What’s going on?” She peered at Greg. “Did Flint bite you?”

  “No, but he tried to,” he replied.

  “Greg just should have been more careful with running up to Flint and reaching toward his dog bowl,” Felicity said.

  “Cripes!” Valerie said, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at Flint. “Maybe we’d be wise to cancel tonight’s performance.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Felicity countered.

  “A man has been murdered because of this show,” she said. “The theater could be bankrupted by a wrongful death lawsuit.”

  “And I don’t want to get my face ripped off by a frightened dog!” Greg said.

  “Have you looked at the number of calls for cancelation tickets we’ve been getting?” Felicity asked. “Did you realize we have calls from ticket distributors? That we’re booked solid for every seat, and being asked to add performances?”

  “Of course I know that! It’s my job to know our ticket sales! But it’s the there’s-no-such-thing-as-bad-publicity factor. All of that becomes moot if anyone gets injured on this play. I’m trying to look at the big picture. That’s my job. If we continue to put this play on with business as usual, even while knowing that the police are investigating all of us as murder suspects, it would be irresponsible of me. I discussed it with my lawyer.”

  “Did you ask him what happens if my career is ruined by a dog biting my face?” Greg asked. “I’m the guy who sticks my face at him in Act Two and says, ‘Coochie Coo!’”

  “Did you discuss the theater’s predicament with a CPA?” Felicity retorted, ignoring Greg. “Did you ask what kind of financial liability we’d be to have to refund tickets?”

  Valerie sank her head into her hands. “Damn it! This is a nightmare!”

  “Yes, it is,” Felicity replied. “But the best and fastest way out of this nightmare is for every one of to concentrate on doing our jobs.”

  Valerie stood motionless for a moment, then turned to face Greg and Felicity. “Both of you, please go downstairs.”

  “I need to feed Pippa,” Felicity said.

  “I’ll feed...the little Brownie,” Valerie said, apparently just now noticing Pippa’s outfit. “I need to talk to Allie in private.”

  “She gets half a cup,” Felicity said.

  “I know, I know. And no Reese’s Pieces.”

  Felicity rolled her eyes, but she and Greg left, and Valerie dumped half a cup of kibble into the bowl. Pippa had started to follow Valerie, but promptly changed directions at the sound of dog food.

  “God almighty,” Valerie grumbled as she set the food bowl down and watched Pippa scarf down her food. “I love dogs! Now they’re going to be the death of me!” She winced as if realizing how ill-timed her last statement was. She grabbed my arm. “Allida. My neck is on the line. Can you promise me that Flint isn’t going to bite someone tonight?”

  I felt my cheeks growing warm, knowing I could not make such a promise for any dog. Not even my beloved Pavlov was incapable of biting someone under extreme circumstances. “I can promise you that I’m extremely confident he won’t bite anyone on stage. And that he won’t bite anyone backstage unless he has good reason to feel like he needs to protect himself or his meal.”

  “Ugh. That’s not good enough!” She stamped her foot. “I should never have agreed to put on John’s play! I knew from the start that it was a financial risk.”

  “Yet it’s been a huge money earner.”

  “And our stagehand is dead, while the writer director is the prime suspect.”

  “With all due respect, Valerie, that is not the fault of the play itself. Or the dog.”

  “No, but it’s mine.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’m the fool who ignored a clause about needing to put a rider on our insurance policy. If the canine on stage gets too upset and injures someone, we’re sunk.”

  “Is that why John gave Flynn a sedative on Sunday?” I asked. “Because he wanted to ensure Flynn wouldn’t nip one of the members of the cast?”

  She nodded. “I...put it all on him. We had a big fight. He wanted me to hire you. I made the condition that if Flint was to bite anybody on the set, I’d see to it that the theater would su
e him. And then Flint got so flipped out at the falling lights. That would have been the end of everything right there.”

  She hugged herself and leaned back against the wall. “I’m just here on a temporary basis. All I needed to do was not bankrupt the theater. I can’t sleep. I’m counting the performances, waiting until I’m out of the woods. Eighteen to go. I’m never going to survive eighteen more performances.”

  “On the plus side, you have a hit show on your hands.”

  “And a murder on my conscience.” Once again, she stood stock still for a full minute, then closed her eyes and said, “What is the expression? In for a penny, in for a pound?” She looked at her watch. “Cripes. It’s just too late now. The audience will start a riot if I go out there and cancel the play at this point. Let’s just freaking do it. I’ll take the anti-anxiety meds instead of the poor dog.” She grabbed my arm once again. “But you have to stay, Allie. Please. You have to help with keeping the dog from flipping out if John should get stuck in jail, unable to meet his bail.”

  “Baxter and I are determined to stay until things get resolved for John.”

  “Good. So we’re both going to hope that means they find out whoever did this and put the person in jail right away. And that John’s innocent. Because you’re the closest thing we’ve got to John’s understudy.”

  Chapter 15

  The curtain opened at 7:35. I had decided I was too nervous to eat and had simply played with Flint behind the theater, taking care not to get anywhere near the river that formed the border of the theater’s property. Although it wasn’t a strong current, I’d had visions of bringing a soaking wet dog onto the stage, which would have been difficult to explain away, not to mention that we would have to blow dry his fur between scenes to explain why Blue was still wet two days later.

  Baxter returned with twenty minutes to spare. We attached the dime-sized speaker to Flint once again. Even though Baxter had already assured me that the equipment was working, I gave it another test. Flint could hear me perfectly. From the dog’s body English, even during his initial entrance onto the stage, it was quite clear to me that he was already aware of his blocking assignments before I could even relay them through my headset.