A Dog with Two Tales (A Bought-the-Farm Mystery Book 0)

by Ellen Riggs

  “Right,” I said. “He keeps the dog chained up back here so he obviously has no great love for him. I will help the guy out by taking Keats off his hands.”

  There was a roar of a faulty muffler and we moved out of sight as the red car pulled in. After waiting a few minutes, we nodded at each other and went back.

  “Can I make a small suggestion, Ivy?”

  I was already walking down the narrow lane beside the yard, with Keats following on the inside dragging the heavy chain. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t call the dog Keats in front of this guy. I sense he’s not the type to appreciate poetry.”

  I gave her a look over my shoulder. “I may be having a crisis of executive confidence but I can handle a lowlife animal abuser, Jilly.”

  She raised groomed eyebrows that were a shade darker than her highlighted hair. “Normally you’re the soul of tact, but you’re still on edge, my friend. Just dial things back till you get the dog on your leash. And don’t actually show him the leash, either.”

  “Are you going to stage direct my every move?”

  Heels clicking on the cracked pavement, she laughed. “I’m sure going to try. I want you to have this dog, Ivy. I can tell you have a connection already.”

  Keats reached the end of his chain and let out a heartrending wail.

  Turning, I held a finger to my lips. “Quiet. Listen to Jilly, Keats. We need to play our cards right.”

  He sat and wrapped his long skinny tail around his paws. There was a tuft of white hair on the end of his tail. One day that would be a glorious plume rising over long grass as he ran through a meadow. I could see it clearly in my mind. We were going to—

  “Ivy? You okay?” Jilly said, as I stood staring at the dog.

  I shook my head to dispel the vision. “Maybe you should do the talking. Like you said, I’m not quite myself right now.”

  She nodded. “I’ll turn up the charm. It won’t be the first time I’ve had to cater to fools.”

  We fell silent as we took the stairs together. Jilly smoothed her hair and applied fresh lipstick. Looking good was half the battle in her line of work, she said. The other half was a combination of presence, brains and integrity. She had all that in spades.

  Meanwhile, I plucked an envelope out of the mailbox, examined it and put it back. Now I knew his name. I also knew that he didn’t look after his house any more than his dog. There was a rusted-out fridge sitting beside the porch and the eavestrough was dangling dangerously.

  Jilly pressed the doorbell and stepped back to stand beside me, smile in place.

  The inner door opened and a scrawny man with mousy, thinning hair stared at Jilly through the dirty glass of the screen door. His small brown eyes lit up for a second but then he scowled.

  “Weren’t you the one trespassing yesterday?” He opened the screen door for a closer look. “You selling something?”

  “I guess you could say that.” Jilly’s smile stretched almost to the point where the ends met behind her head. “You see, we fell in love with your dog yesterday. He’s absolutely adorable. But it seemed like he might be bored. Border collies are so high energy.”

  He spun his index finger in circles. “Get to the point, lady. I don’t have all day.”

  “I can tell you’re a busy man.” Her voice was still as sweet as cotton candy. “How could you have time for a dog—one that’s barely more than a puppy?”

  “And…?”

  “I’d love to take him off your hands. I’m looking for an active dog I can take on trail walks.”

  He looked her up and down. “I don’t buy it, blondie. Those boots only walk in malls.”

  “What I’m trying to say is—”

  “Save your breath.” He started to close the door. “That dog isn’t going anywhere. I need him.”

  “Please.” Jilly’s voice went up a notch. “He’d be so well loved. Won’t you reconsider?”

  “No, no and… no.” He gave a little laugh. “Bug off.”

  I had no choice now but to jump in. I did it literally by sticking my boot in the crack of the door just as he started to close it. “How much?” I said, getting straight to the point.

  He looked startled, as if he hadn’t really noticed me before. That happened a lot, particularly if Jilly was there to draw all eyes.

  “Get your foot out of my door.” Then he added, “What did you say?”

  “I said, how much for the dog?” My voice was calm and I adjusted my expression to HR neutrality. “Name your price.”

  “The dog isn’t for sale. Like I said, I need him.”

  “I understand you’re very attached,” I said. “But he’s hardly a guard dog.”

  “He does what I need, aside from attracting do-gooders like you. He’s a dog. Period.” He looked me up and down, from my sensible, low maintenance shoulder length hair, to my even more sensible boots. “You’re the type to swaddle a dog up and rock it like a baby. I can tell.”

  “Actually, I’d love to teach this dog how to herd sheep. That’s what he was bred for. His calling.”

  “The only calling I hear is the toilet. It’s time for my constitutional. So if you—”

  “Mr. Roxton,” I said. “I really want to buy your dog. I’m sure I can match whatever you paid for him and more.”

  His eyes were mere slits. “How do you know my name?”

  I shrugged. “May I call you Ron?”

  “No. You can call out goodbye as you’re leaving my property.”

  “Ron, I find it hard to believe you’d turn down good money for this dog. You have a nice house. You must be a smart businessman.”

  He rolled his eyes but curiosity won out. “What’s so special about this dog? He’s just like any other stupid mutt. Couldn’t teach him a single trick.”

  My lips pressed together to quell the hot anger bubbling up.

  Jilly touched my arm. “If that’s how you feel about him, you surely wouldn’t miss him.”

  “I’ll pay you well,” I said. “How about a grand?”

  His thin lips worked for a second as he thought about it. Then he shook his head. “Not interested.”

  He tried to kick my foot away but I grabbed the edge of the door and held on. “Three grand. That’s far more than the going rate for border collies.”

  “Look, lady moneybags. This dog is not for sale. End of story.” He pulled so hard on the door that it broke two of my nails. “Now go wave your bills at some other sucker who doesn’t know the true value of man’s best friend.”

  I still held the door and pressed my face closer to the crack. “You treat your best friend like crap, Mr. Roxton. He’s starving, filthy and covered in flea bites.”

  He brought his own face close to the opening and his breath smelled like stale coffee and staler booze. “That sounds like a whole lot of mind your own business, babe.”

  Jilly made a little choking sound. It had been a long time since anyone had called me babe.

  “This is an emotional topic,” she said, pulling me back from the face-off. “But let’s try to be reasonable. My friend is making you a very handsome offer. You seem like an intelligent man—”

  “Intelligent enough to know bull crap when I hear it. So save it, toots, and get off my porch.”

  He reached for something inside and raised it. A baseball bat.

  “I’m making one last offer,” I said. “Five grand.”

  Waving the bat, he pushed the door open. “Babe, you just struck out.”

  Chapter Three

  “Well, that’s it, then,” Jilly said, as we walked down the street so quickly her heels clicked a loud staccato.

  “Yes, that’s it, then,” I said. “I’m going to have to steal the dog.”

  “Slow down, Ivy. I’m less help to you if I sprain my ankle.”

  I took a deep breath and slowed. “Okay. But you’re not changing my mind.”

  “I want to rescue the dog with the least possible risk. Let’s have a coffee and talk this through
.”

  I agreed reluctantly, and it took five minutes with a hot cup of coffee for steam to stop trickling from my ears. Finally I said, “What kind of guy turns down five grand for a scraggly pup? It doesn’t look like he’s loaded.”

  “Hardly.” Jilly shook a packet of sugar into her coffee and stirred. “I think it was just belligerence. He didn’t like us and didn’t want to give in.”

  “Money usually trumps pride, doesn’t it?” I took another sip of my coffee, grateful now for the comforting heat it offered. The day was quite warm for June but I had a chill. “He’s hiding something, I can sense it.”

  “If he wanted to hide something, wouldn’t he choose a breed like a rottweiler? A border collie doesn’t offer protection.”

  I stirred my coffee thoughtfully. “Power breeds need proper training and handling and he doesn’t seem inclined. Left to its own devices, a dog like that would cause problems with neighbors. Animal Services said no one but me had complained about poor little Keats, the innocuous border collie. He doesn’t even bark.”

  Jilly rubbed away lipstick from her mug and then applied more to her lips. Unlike me, she never needed a mirror to get it just right. “So what’s next?”

  “Reconnaissance. We go back down the alley and hide in the vacant garage across from the yard. We wait till the guy’s gone and then I go over the fence and grab the dog.” I wiped my hands together briskly. “Done.”

  “Done except for whatever he decides to do next.”

  “What’s he going to do, call the police?” I gave her a defiant stare. “If he does, good.”

  Jilly shook her head. “Guys like him probably don’t call the police. Like you said, it seems like he’s got something to hide, and that means he’s more likely to take care of the problem himself. With his baseball bat.”

  “He’d have to find me first.” It was false bravado and the twitch of her lips said she knew it.

  “That probably wouldn’t be too hard, since you’re going to have to walk the dog and you only live a few blocks away. And then what? He breaks in? Attacks you in a park?”

  “I can take care of myself. I have pepper spray.”

  Ignoring that, she continued. “So then he takes the dog back and poor Keats is worse off than before. Maybe he’s locked in the basement for the rest of his days.”

  My eyes filled instantly and spilled over, rolling down my cheeks and into my coffee cup. “Don’t even say that.”

  “Ivy.” She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry. In all our years of friendship, I’ve never seen you cry.”

  “Daisy says they stitched my tear ducts shut at birth. As the last of six, tears weren’t going to take me far.” I looked up at the ceiling and waited for the emotion to subside. “This dog’s broken something in me, Jilly.”

  “Actually, Flordale did that,” she said. “I should have gotten you out years ago, when Wilf came on board. The job’s eroded your sense of self ever since.” She got up and gathered her things. “We’re going to find work that builds you up rather than tears you down. You’re so gifted, Ivy. So full of honour and integrity.”

  That just made me cry again and I dabbed at my eyes with a napkin. I should have skipped the makeup today, but mascara and eyeliner felt like part of my armor against the world. Tears had never been an issue before.

  Half an hour later, we skulked down the alley again. Watching Jilly try to be unobtrusive dried my tears and made me smile. We found refuge in the abandoned garage, which smelled of moss, urine and animal dung. Jilly made a gagging sound and pulled a silk scarf out of her purse. She covered her nose like a classy bandit.

  We lurked there for more than an hour, watching the house. At first Keats stared in our direction, but I signalled for him to lie down and he collapsed on his side, listless in the heat.

  Finally, Ron Roxton came out the side door and unlocked the gate to walk into the yard. He didn’t call the dog and though Keats stood, he didn’t go over. In fact, he sank to his belly, watching anxiously as his owner circled the yard. Ron stopped to survey the sunflowers for a long moment, and then continued his rounds.

  Jilly reached out and squeezed my hand, either to comfort me or hold me in place.

  When he found the new bowls I’d left, Ron picked them up and hurled them over the fence, where they landed with a clatter that made Keats cringe even more. After scanning thoroughly with his piggy eyes, Ron finally walked back out and locked the gate. Then he got into his battered old red Chevy, pulled out and drove away.

  “Come on,” I said, running down the lane after him. “Let’s try to follow him.”

  “Follow him? Why?” Jilly said. “That wasn’t in the plan.”

  “Maybe we’ll learn what he’s hiding so we can turn it against him.”

  She grumbled, but one flick of her red nails got us a cab, and the driver was happy enough to try to tail the red car. The roar of the Chevy’s muffler let us know we weren’t far behind.

  Ten minutes later, the Chevy pulled into a parking lot. By the time we’d paid the cab and got out, Ron Roxton had gone inside the building.

  “Now what?” Jilly asked.

  “We go in after him. Keep a low profile. See what he’s doing.”

  “Keep a low profile?” Jilly pointed to a neon sign with a flashing profile of a very busty woman. “Ivy, this is a strip club.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s not ideal,” I said. “The Booby Trap? How clever.”

  “It’s no big surprise he’s the kind of guy who’d spend Saturday afternoon at a strip club, is it?”

  “No surprise at all,” I said. “Well, I’ve never been in a strip club, but there’s a first time for everything.”

  Jilly laughed. “No way am I going into a strip club. What exactly did you hope to accomplish from following this guy anyway?”

  “Like I said, it’s reconnaissance. If we can figure out what he’s hiding, maybe we can bring in the police. That way he’d have to surrender Keats, and couldn’t replace him with another dog to abuse.”

  “We’re not going to blend in at the Booby Trap, my friend. Next idea?”

  “I can blend in almost anywhere,” I said. “Let’s just go in for a look. See what he’s doing.”

  “We already know what he’s doing. Drinking and ogling.”

  “But others might know him. We can ask questions. That’s what we do.”

  “Ivy, seriously. This is going nowhere good.”

  I towed her toward the door. “Just one little peek.”

  “There’s no such thing as a little peek at a strip club. It’s pretty much the whole enchilada.”

  It turned out we’d worried for nothing. No sooner had we entered the dark enclave than a beefy young man with a shaved head came to the door. “Hello, ladies. I’m guessing you’re in the wrong place this afternoon.”

  “We—uh—thought we might have a cup of coffee,” Jilly said.

  “Coffee? Well, there’s half a dozen cafés down the street with a view you’d like better.”

  “Okay, we’re here on a dare,” I said. “Our friends said we’d never last half an hour.”

  I tried to peer around him and caught sight of a woman wearing nothing but silver pasties and matching platform heels as she gyrated around a pole. The bouncer moved to block me. “How about I just write you a note to say you did?”

  “Are you saying we can’t even stay for a drink?” I asked. “That’s discrimination.”

  He offered a surprisingly pleasant smile. “You can stay. I just want you to think twice about it. Your presence could be… distracting… for our regular customers.”

  Jilly had already backed against the door, but I persisted. “You seem like a nice man. Maybe I could just be honest.”

  “Best policy,” he said. “Not used often enough around this establishment.”

  “There’s this guy,” I began.

  He held up his hand. “Wait, let me guess. You want to know if your boyfriend is here. You’re a
fraid he’s a lowlife cheater.”

  “We are looking for a lowlife. You got that part right,” I said. “But the guy in question is an animal abuser. We offered him very good money to buy a dog he’s mistreating and he wouldn’t take it. So now we’re curious about him.”

  The bouncer crossed his arms and frowned. “I don’t like the sounds of this. I have a dog myself. Who’s the guy?”

  I gave him Ron’s name and he nodded. “Small and mean? Sitting at the bar right now?”

  Leaning around him, I confirmed it. “He turned down five grand for a border collie he starves and ignores. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Ladies, I know this guy well enough to warn you away from him. He goes by the nickname Skint and he’s got his fingers in plenty of trouble.”

  “Money making trouble?” I said. “So much that he can turn down five grand?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so,” he said. “The dog must have value to him.”

  “Well, it’s not like this Skint has sheep to herd,” I said. “And this pup couldn’t protect him.”

  The bouncer sighed. “What’s your name?”

  “Ivy,” I said. “And this is Jilly. We’re not normally the type to invite trouble with people like Skint.”

  “I’m Jason. And I could tell.” He smiled again. “You’re ‘Suits’ in Saturday casual.”

  “Pretty much,” I said, grinning. “I came upon the dog by accident yesterday but it felt like… well, like fate. It was love at first pat.” Tears filled my eyes for the second time that day. “But if I steal the dog I’m afraid this guy will come after me.”

  He gave a quick nod. “He will, and he’s no gentleman. I’ve had to escort him out a few times for taking liberties with our ladies.”

  “See, Ivy?” Jilly said. “He’s dangerous.”

  The bouncer gave an uneasy sigh. “Skint’s on the wrong side of the wrong people and from what I’ve heard, he’s lucky to be alive right now. So your best bet is to leave well enough alone.”