Maggie and the Whiskered Witness

by Barbara Cool Lee

  "That's what I call it. I don't actually know what happened. It wasn't us. The family, I mean. We were always close. But when Lauren went off to college, something happened. I tried to get her to tell me what it was. But she wouldn't say."

  "When was this?" Maggie asked, turning back to watch the road.

  "She was in her final year at the university," Alyssa said, speaking quickly now that she'd decided to tell the story. "She got accepted into the IT program at Cornell and moved to New York. We were so proud of her. I got married right out of high school and had kids and worked part-time at my husband's business. But she didn't want to follow in her big sister's footsteps. She had ambitions. She was smart. And wanted to do something big. Solve problems. Fix things. And she just threw herself into it."

  "In what way?" Maggie asked.

  "All ways," Alyssa said. "She did internships and volunteered and got involved with all kinds of school activities. And we talked all the time on the phone and she came home on holidays to visit family and friends."

  "That sounds wonderful."

  "It was. I was so proud of her. And she was happy for me, because I was doing what I wanted. And everything was normal between us. And everything seemed fine with her. And then it all just stopped."

  "What do you mean, 'stopped'?"

  "I mean stopped. Suddenly. Like turning off a light switch." She looked out the window, and whispered. "Yes. It was like the light inside of her snuffed out. All that fire of hers just stopped. Like blowing out a candle."

  "And you don't know why?" Maggie asked.

  "I don't know. She quit everything. Dropped out of college. She never graduated. She was in her final year but she left and never went back. She sent a message that she was fine but was taking some time off, so we knew she was all right. And then I didn't hear from her for a long time. I have no idea where she was during that time. And then out of the blue I heard from her. She had moved all the way across the country to this little town in California."

  "But she got back in touch with you when she moved here?"

  "Yes," Alyssa said, thinking about it. "There was a gap, like she'd dropped off the face of the earth, and then a couple years later she showed up again and got back in touch with the family. And she had changed."

  "In what way?"

  She thought about that question for a while, staring out the window. "Like she wasn't the same person. She had some new goal. Some new purpose."

  "A purpose? Related to moving here?"

  She shook her head. "I have no idea. But in college she threw herself into her new life, all the things she wanted to do and be. And then when she got back in touch, she seemed to be doing the same thing, throwing herself into something. But she was different. And she was out here. And she wouldn't tell us why."

  "Do you think something bad happened to her? In New York? At university? And she ran away from it?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. If she'd been a crime victim, or something like that, I think she would have told me. I asked her point blank if something had happened to her, and she insisted that she was fine, and that I shouldn't worry about her."

  Maggie looked at her hands on the steering wheel, trying to make sense of it. "But she disappeared. And then showed up later, all the way across the country."

  "Exactly," Alyssa said. "But she wouldn't tell us why."

  "Was that the last time you spoke to her?"

  "Oh, no. After that, she kept in touch. She'd call to talk, but not say anything. You know what I mean?"

  Maggie looked at the road in front of her. "I know exactly what you mean. We were friends. At least, I like to think we were. And we talked about beadwork and dogs and things like that. But it was like there was a wall. I couldn't get past it."

  Alyssa nodded. "I haven't seen her in three years. She never even met my youngest daughter, her own niece. But she sent presents for birthdays and Christmas. She seemed to care. But she was, I don't know, separate, somehow. I almost got the impression she was afraid to come home to Atlanta."

  "Why afraid?"

  "Maybe because she'd have to explain herself," she said. "And she just couldn't. She couldn't tell us about whatever it was that had changed her."

  "A secret?" Maggie asked.

  Alyssa shrugged. "That's just speculation. I really don't know what it was. She always seemed so strong. She even defended me when I was bullied once in high school, even though she was the younger sister. She was tough and wouldn't back down from a fight. She was all righteous and cared about justice and all that. Very young and idealistic. But maybe…, I don't know…."

  "Do you have a theory?" Maggie asked.

  "Yes. I wondered if she'd had some kind of mental breakdown, and was ashamed to tell me."

  She wasn't looking at Maggie, but out the window, and seeing something in her own mind "But she should have known. She could have told me anything. I would have supported her no matter what she had done."

  Maggie noticed Jasper's profile in the rearview mirror, and it made her smile affectionately at her boy. "So that's why you never met Hendrix. You seemed surprised by him."

  "Oh, yes," Alyssa said. "My family's never had dogs." She glanced back over her shoulder. "Especially not some big police dog like that."

  Maggie nodded. So it was unlikely Hendrix would go live with Lauren's family.

  "I don't know what's going to happen to him, honestly," Alyssa said, bringing up the subject herself. "I have no idea where she got him, and I just really don't want a big dog. Do you have any idea what I can do with him?"

  "Don't worry," Maggie said quickly. "That is one thing Lauren did open up to me about. She was an expert dog trainer, and helped me with my Jasper so much. I will make sure Hendrix is well cared-for and goes to a good home."

  Alyssa sighed in relief. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I want to do the right thing for him, but when I saw that big monster I just didn't know what I was going to do."

  Maggie smiled. "I love Hendrix. I promise he will end up somewhere wonderful. With me, or with someone I know will be good to him."

  Alyssa leaned back against the car seat. "That's a relief." Then she frowned. "But, you said Lauren was the dog trainer?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "Well, like I said. My family has never had dogs. We didn't grow up with them. I just can't really picture her as a dog trainer."

  "Well, she was an excellent one. She knew pretty much everything about how to train even the most crazy pup like my Jasper. She was always giving me good advice."

  "I guess that makes sense," Alyssa said. "Whatever she did, she always did it full-on. If she wanted a dog, she would be the best trainer she could be."

  They were quiet for a bit, and Alyssa watched the curving coast as they turned inland to the little Carita Cove. The town came into view, with its string of mansions at the edge of the cliff, and then they dipped down and saw the little downtown spread out in front of them.

  Maggie exited the coast highway and took Alyssa to the hotel. This was a remodeled motel in a vintage California style, with a low-slung roof of red tiles, white stucco walls, and arched porticos. Maggie parked her car in front of the main entrance.

  They got out, and Maggie came around to say goodbye to her.

  "Thank you," Alyssa said.

  "It's nothing," Maggie replied. "I like that little drive."

  "Not just that," Alyssa said. "But for being Lauren's friend. She was alone, without her family. And you were there for her."

  Maggie felt the tears in her eyes. "I didn't do enough," she said. "I can't figure out why—" She took a big breath, then blew it out. "I'm sorry. I just can't believe this happened. It's so hard to accept."

  Alyssa nodded. "I understand." She said goodbye and turned to go into the building.

  Maggie put her hand into her pocket as she walked away and felt her phone there.

  She ran after Alyssa. "I forgot!"

  Alyssa turned back around. "What?"

  "I have a q
uestion for you." Maggie pulled out her phone and called up the picture of Lauren's locket. "This."

  She blew up the image so Alyssa could see it, and showed it to her.

  Alyssa stood there staring at the picture of the little boy. "Where did you get this?" she said.

  "It was inside a locket Lauren made in one of my bead classes. Do you know who it is?"

  Alyssa nodded. "Of course. It's Gabriel Franklin. He lived next door. Back when we were little kids."

  "Oh." A childhood friend. That was all. Someone from her past she cared about, who was gone.

  "Why do you ask?" Alyssa said.

  "Because I had hoped it had something to do with the case. But I guess not. So when did he die?"

  "Die?" Alyssa turned to her. "What makes you think he's dead? He moved away years ago. He's probably a brain surgeon or something now—he was the smartest kid in class in our elementary school. But I can't imagine why Lauren would even remember him." Then she smiled. "Well, maybe she had a bit of a crush on him back then. He was a couple of years older than her, but just as much of a bookworm as she was. They were a lot alike." Then she shrugged. "But it doesn't matter now." She added in a whisper, "nothing matters now, for Lauren."

  "I'm sorry," Maggie said. "So very sorry."

  Maggie got back in the car and went home. It was another dead end.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning she decided to skip the dogs' walk, since Hendrix was still limping a bit. She took them out into Casablanca's back yard and let them sniff the rose bushes and potty on the lawn. She was going to get brown spots on the grass, but too bad. She needed a break.

  Hendrix wandered around the yard, perfectly satisfied by this low-key outing. He stuck his head into the bushes and sniffed his way along the perimeter, examining everything carefully as if he were taking a survey of the foliage.

  Jasper, on the other hand, wasn't thrilled with the lack of intense exercise. He fussed around and barked several times, so she went to get his basket of toys from the tiny house and, after putting him in a sit-stay, tipped the whole basket out on the lawn.

  Jasper sat on the patio where she told him to, but he wiggled his rear and whined, all excited to play the game he knew was coming.

  Hendrix came over to sit by Maggie. He plopped at her feet and relaxed by the lounge chair while she sent Jasper to fetch each of his toys by name, one at a time.

  He ran back and forth to bring her each one as she called out "ball" and "rope" and "sheeple" to him. He loved to do this.

  She had been teaching him new words all the time, ever since the first time he'd fetched his leash when she said the word, and she realized he was figuring out the meaning of all the language she'd been chattering at him all day long.

  Lauren had once told her that a famous border collie had learned the names of over a thousand different objects, and could fetch them on command.

  Jasper recognized the names of about thirty toys so far, so he still had a way to go before he broke any world records. But he loved his game, and it was a fun way to keep his busy little brain occupied. Better than chewing the furniture, anyway.

  So she kept the toy basket next to her, and sent him out, again and again, to fetch each toy and bring it to her. The pile on the lawn got smaller, and the pile in the basket got bigger, and she got a chance to put her feet up and relax.

  Hendrix observed this procedure with his usual aplomb, and she got the impression he was judging Jasper's responses. He'd tilt his head to the side and watch, and seemed to be thinking: I'll give that one a perfect rating for speed, but two points off for drool on the toy, and one more point off for bumping the chair when he barreled up to offer it to his owner.

  "You're such a wise old soul, aren't you?" she asked Hendrix.

  He gave her a serious nod of the head to reply, and she started thinking again about where he had come from and why he was such a dignified old man of a dog.

  Jasper interrupted the conversation by bumping in between them and barking at the top of his lungs.

  She laughed, and he licked her face. She rubbed his white chest, running her fingers through the thick fur. "All done?" she asked him, scanning the lawn for any stray toys that might have gotten left behind.

  He barked that he had gotten every one, so she picked up the filled toy basket and took the dogs back to the tiny house.

  Once there, she gave each of them a chewy bone to reward them for being so good.

  Hendrix accepted his with grave courtesy, then lay on Jasper's bed on the floor to give the bone a thoughtful chew.

  Jasper bumped her thigh, licked her arm, and made a lunge up to kiss her nose, then grabbed the bone from her, leaped onto the daybed, and settled in to tear his bone to pieces as loudly and messily as possible.

  She was probably giving them too many treats, but they were both a bit stressed out, and needed a bit of extra loving. If only she had someone to give her some cookies, rub her back, and tuck her into bed, she'd maybe feel better, too.

  Reese was on the plane to New York right now, soon to be thousands of miles away from her. Why that thought had sprung into her mind at that moment, she didn't know. Or she did know, but was lying to herself about it. She pulled out her phone and called up the photo he'd sent her before, of him sitting in a makeup chair looking bored while professionals fussed over him and turned him into a stylish celebrity.

  She sat down at her craft table. She had put the flyer and note from Dr. Barcellos there after the vet visit yesterday.

  She put away her phone and looked at the flyer. There were at least a dozen different sites listed on it, and she hadn't gotten around to tackling it yesterday.

  She picked up the doctor's note with its series of numbers identifying Hendrix. Could the microchip be the key to finding out more about him, and about Lauren as well?

  She pushed her big bead loom project off to one side so she had room to set up her laptop on the table, and then began searching the websites on the flyer.

  It was weird. She had just assumed there was one big national clearinghouse of pet microchip numbers. Some site where you could find any missing pet. But it apparently didn't work that way. There were bunches of different registries, and the information they collected apparently didn't always get updated.

  The first two sites showed no record for Hendrix's microchip.

  On a hunch she looked through her papers for Jasper's microchip number and typed that into the same sites. He'd already been chipped when she got him, and the vet had updated his information for her the first time she'd taken him to the doctor. So she started typing Jasper's number into all the different sites on the flyer, and found that some had his current information, some had only the name of the microchip manufacturer who'd made his chip—and several sites came back with NO RESULT, just like Hendrix's.

  So she spent some time updating all the sites with Jasper's current contact information, suddenly aware of how vulnerable he would be if she ever lost him.

  Then, after she'd fixed his info with every site on the list, she went back and tried every single site with Hendrix's number.

  She quickly found out that Lauren hadn't updated his contact info, either because she never got around to it—or possibly she hadn't even known that he had a microchip.

  In any case, there was no record of ownership by Lauren Douglas on any of the sites. She tried each one in turn, and every time the record came back with NOT FOUND.

  On the sixth site, though, she finally got a hit. Not Lauren Douglas. Not a veterinarian's office. Or a dog breeder. Or the microchip manufacturer. But something else. Something called PET PRISON, INC.

  "Pet Prison?" she said aloud, and both dogs looked at her, cocking their heads to the side in confusion.

  "Is that where you come from?" she asked Hendrix. "What a funny name for a dog rescue. But I guess you got sprung from doggie prison by Lauren, huh?"

  He shrugged, and put his head down to go back to sleep.

  The re
gistry only showed the name of the organization. There was a form she could fill out to tell them she had found their missing dog. She filled it out, providing her phone number and location.

  She closed the laptop. So that was all she could do about that.

  Or was it?

  She opened the laptop again and typed "Pet Prison" in the search box.

  She found a website under that name right away.

  "Oh," she whispered. She glanced at the old dog with new respect. "Wow."

  Pet Prison was a program that matched shelter dogs with prison inmates, providing both with a chance to learn and bond and improve their lives.

  If Hendrix was the result of the program, they were doing amazing work. He was the best-mannered dog she'd ever known. "I guess you were a model prisoner," she told him, and he rolled over and turned his back to her.

  She checked her kit-cat clock. She had a little more time before she needed to open the shop this morning. So she called the number listed on the website. Someone picked up the phone right away.

  When she explained that she had a dog that might have come from their program and she was searching for information about his history, she was connected to the founder of the organization.

  The woman was lovely. "Call me Beth," she said warmly. She spoke eloquently about their work, and how they were devoted to changing lives, both canine and human. Then she asked her some questions about the dog. "We've trained and placed over a hundred dogs in the tri-state area," she explained. "So I may have to check the records if I don't remember yours in particular."

  "Tri-state area?" Maggie asked.

  She laughed. "I didn't think you sounded like you were from around here," she said. "Tri-state is New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut."

  "Oh," Maggie said. Lauren had been a student at Cornell, her sister had said. "I'm in California," she explained. "But the woman who used to own the dog went to college in New York, so maybe that's how he came from there."

  "That's possible. What can you tell me about him?" Beth asked.

  "He's not actually my dog," Maggie explained. "But I'm taking care of him right now. I'm calling because the young woman who owned this particular dog died. I'd like to learn more about where he came from."