The Case of the Prescient Poodle

by B R Snow

  “I’m happy for you, Abby,” Chef Claire said, raising her glass. “I like Victor.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Abby said, clinking glasses with all of us.

  “Is that it for the meeting?” I said, glancing at the stern where the men were still fishing.

  “Pretty much. I’ve got a list of some other small things we’ll need to discuss, but they can wait,” Abby said. “But I do need to get a few things scheduled with you.”

  “Like what?” I said, frowning.

  “I’ve got several meetings coming up over the next few months that you should probably attend as Board President.”

  “Can it wait until after lunch?” I said.

  “Sure,” Abby said, exhaling audibly as she stuffed her copy of the document into her bag and draped it over her shoulder. “Let’s eat.”

  Josie and Chef Claire hopped down off the bow onto the deck, and Abby followed them toward two large ice chests sitting next to the captain’s chair. I frowned as I watched them depart.

  “I think I hurt Abby’s feelings,” I said to my mother.

  “Yes, I’m sure you did.”

  “What did I do?”

  “Think about it,” she said, staring out at the water.

  I did. Several seconds later, I glanced over at her.

  “She doesn’t think I’m taking my role as board president seriously enough, right?”

  “Bingo,” my mother said. “You got it in one.”

  “What do you think?” I said, frowning.

  “I think she’s right,” my mother said, shrugging.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. But it doesn’t matter what I think, darling.”

  “Since when?” I said, grinning at her.

  “Don’t start.”

  I sat quietly fiddling with the document Abby had given us. I glanced out at the dark blue water and felt the sun beating down on me.

  “I hate this stuff, Mom,” I said, making eye contact with her.

  “I know you do, darling. But this is what corporations do. And you can only expect more of the same as we move forward.”

  “I’m not sure I can live with that,” I said, draining the last of my Mimosa.

  “Then you have some decisions to make, don’t you?” she said, sliding off the seat onto the deck. She put her hands on her hips as she looked around the open water. “It’s so beautiful out here. Now, this is the way to spend time.”

  “Is that a hint, Mom?”

  “No, just an observation,” she said. “Come on. Let’s have some lunch. You always think better after you’ve eaten.”

  Chapter 3

  After lunch, in an effort to hopefully change our luck catching at least one fish, Captain Jack started the engine, and we started trolling. Fifteen minutes later, he pointed off the starboard side at what appeared to be several pieces of driftwood and a collection of seaweed hanging off them. It bobbed gently in the water and looked a bit like a patch of ill-tended landscape.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Captain Jack said, putting the boat in neutral and shutting down the engine. “Sometimes Dolphin Fish like to hang out near stuff like that. Let’s try a few casts in that direction.”

  “Dolphin Fish?” Josie said.

  “Mahi Mahi,” Chef Claire said.

  “Oh, I love Mahi Mahi,” Josie said, softly clapping her hands. “Especially that Thai red curry you serve at the restaurant.”

  “I know you do,” Chef Claire said. “Everyone who’s ever been to the restaurant knows that.”

  “I would have thought you’d appreciate the standing ovation,” Josie said.

  I watched Rooster cast, then Max and Rocco followed suit. Moments later, all three of them were battling fish on the other end of their lines.

  “How about that?” I said, glancing at Captain Jack. “You’re a genius.”

  “Sometimes you get lucky,” he said, bowing slightly.

  “Man, that is one ugly fish,” Josie said as she watched Rooster maneuver his fish onto the boat.

  The fish was probably close to forty pounds and was green and yellow speckled with blue with a dorsal fin running the length of its body. From a color standpoint, the fish was gorgeous. But what made it ugly was the protruding forehead that dominated the fish’s head. Between the forehead and what appeared to be a permanent frown etched on the fish’s mouth, it reminded me of an old photo I’d seen of my bald and grumpy great-grandfather.

  Max and Rocco also landed their fish, then all three cast again and within minutes each caught another. They tossed the fish into a holding container that was built into the deck then Max closed the hatch.

  “That’s six,” Max said. “That’s plenty, right?”

  “They’re running pretty hot at the moment,” Captain Jack said. “You sure you don’t want to keep fishing?”

  “What would we do with them?” Max said.

  “Good point,” Rooster said. “Can’t let them go to waste.”

  “We only need one for us,” my mother said.

  “Me too,” Rocco said. “Teresa and the kids love Mahi.”

  “Captain Jack? Would you like one of them?” I said.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’ve got a new smoker I’m dying to try out.”

  “Well, that’s three,” I said, then glanced at Chef Claire. “Why don’t you take the other three to the restaurant?”

  “You read my mind,” Chef Claire said. “Who wants to give me a hand cleaning them?”

  “I’m in,” Rooster said. “You want to do it now?”

  “Why not?” Chef Claire said, then looked at Captain Jack. “You’ve got a cleaning table below deck, right?”

  “I do,” Captain Jack said. “And just toss everything overboard when you’re done. We’ll give the sharks something to snack on. That is if you guys aren’t planning on going in the water.”

  “Not anymore, I’m not,” I said, laughing.

  “My, what a nice boat,” my mother said, staring out off the port side.

  We all turned and watched a large yacht slowly make its way past us heading in the direction of Grand Cayman. A man and a woman were stretched out on deck chairs and barely managed a small wave as they passed. I noticed a dog pacing back and forth on the deck, apparently preoccupied with something.

  “Is that a poodle?” Josie said, holding a hand up to her eyes to block the glare.

  “Yeah, it is. A standard,” I said, squinting as the sunlight bounced off the water. The dog was a gorgeous shade of brown, it’s fur clipped short. “And it seems agitated.”

  “Yes, it does,” Josie said. “Now, it’s barking at them.”

  “And they don’t seem very happy about it,” I said.

  I gave the couple a final wave as the yacht continued on its way. Then my mouth dropped open when I saw the poodle race across the deck to the stern and leap into the water. The poodle popped to the surface and began swimming straight toward our boat.

  “What the heck is going on?” I said.

  “Maybe it doesn’t like being yelled at,” Josie said, shaking her head. “It’s heading right for us.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense at all,” I said, unable to take my eyes off the poodle that was churning through the water.

  The dog eventually made it to Captain Jack’s boat and swam to the stern. Josie and I leaned over the side and helped the poodle climb onto the platform that ran along the transom just above the surface of the water. We lifted her onto the boat and set her down on the deck. The poodle shook then scrambled to the bow and began barking as she stared at the yacht. Either the couple on the boat didn’t realize their dog was gone or didn’t care. The poodle put its front paws up on the railing and continued to bark non-stop.

  Then the yacht exploded.

  We all stared in disbelief at the giant fireball that seemed to be rising up from the sea. The yacht was engulfed in flames and continued to burn as several other smaller explosions followed. Captain Jack made a distress call on his radio, provide
d our location to the person on the other end of the line, then sat down in his captain’s chair and ran a hand through his hair with a stunned expression. The poodle continued to stare at the burning boat. Josie approached the dog who accepted a head rub without taking her eyes off the yacht that was rapidly disintegrating. Another explosion followed, this one almost as loud as the first, and we heard the faint sound of wood and fiberglass cracking. Then the yacht split into two pieces and slowly sank below the surface of the water.

  “Should we go check it out?” I said.

  “I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Captain Jack whispered. “Not that there’s going to be much left to see.”

  He started the engine and accelerated toward where the yacht had sunk. Small pieces of debris began landing in the water near us. I headed to the bow and sat down next to the dog who was stretched out on the padded seat with her head propped up on her front paws. I stroked the dog’s head, and she stared up at me with a forlorn look that broke my heart. I reached for the name tag attached to the poodle’s collar.

  “Polly,” I said.

  “Cool name,” Josie said. “Polly the poodle.”

  “This is so weird,” I said, shaking my head.

  “That’s the word for it,” Josie said. “The way she jumped off that boat. It’s like she knew it was going to blow up.”

  “I know,” I said, staring out at the smoking debris floating nearby. “But how is that possible?”

  “She must have smelled something,” Josie said. “Maybe there was a gas leak.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or perhaps she can see into the future,” Josie said, gently stroking the poodle’s back.

  “Really?” I said, scowling. “A psychic poodle?”

  “Let’s go with prescient. It sounds more erudite.”

  “Don’t start.”

  “Polly the prescient poodle,” Josie said, nodding. “I like it. It rolls off the tongue.”

  “You’re babbling.”

  “I’m doing everything I can not to think about what I just saw,” she whispered. “Those poor people.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they never saw it coming,” I said.

  We both looked at the poodle who was still staring out at the water and focused on a cushion that was smoking and bobbing in the water.

  “How the heck did she know?” I said.

  “I have no idea,” Josie said. “But she is one very lucky dog.”

  Then a small piece of what appeared to be bright red, leathery skin landed with a soft plop on the padded seat next to us. I picked it up and examined it.

  “You know what that looks like?” Josie said, rubbing her fingers over the object.

  “Rooster wattle?” I said, glancing at her, thoroughly confused.

  “Yeah,” Josie said. “I think that’s what it is. Weird. You would think someone who owned a yacht that size could afford an alarm clock.”

  I stifled a laugh as I continued to glance around the immediate area then brushed my hand across my face to chase away what I assumed was a bug. Something else drifted across my cheek, and I frowned when I caught a glimpse of the object that was fluttering in the gentle breeze. It reminded me of a giant snowflake, but since it was eighty degrees and sunny, I discarded that notion immediately. I held my hand out, and one of the objects drifted onto my palm and settled. I stared down at it then held my hand out to Josie.

  “A feather?” she said, frowning. Then we glanced up and saw dozens of them slowly making their way down onto Captain Jack’s boat. “You think a seagull might have been taken out by the explosion?”

  “No, that’s not a seagull feather,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s dark brown. I’m going to go with rooster.”

  Then something caught Josie’s eye, and I followed her stare.

  “What the heck is that?” I said, studying a patch of a thin, white film floating on the surface of the water.

  “It looks like some sort of powder,” Josie said, then pointed. “There’s more of them. A whole bunch.”

  “Drugs?” I said, glancing at her.

  “Well, I doubt if it’s baby powder.”

  “Roosters and drugs?” I said. “What the heck were they doing out here with that combination?”

  “I’m gonna go with something illegal.”

  “Yeah. Good call.”

  Chapter 4

  Captain Jack dropped anchor while we waited for the police boat to arrive. I stretched out in the bow and rested my head on Max’s lap. Josie and my mom had their backs against the railing and were quietly chatting about illegal white powder and feathers floating in the breeze. Chef Claire and Rooster took advantage of the time by cleaning the six Mahi Mahi then laying them out in a cooler filled with ice. Then they joined us in the bow. Rooster slid onto the padded seat between Josie and my mother. He grabbed a fresh beer then draped his arms over their shoulders.

  “What are we talking about?” Rooster said.

  “Smuggling,” Max said as he stroked my hair.

  Josie handed Rooster one of the feathers then pointed at the filmy patches floating nearby.

  “Okay,” Rooster said, nodding. “I get the drug reference, but where does the feather come in?”

  “We think it’s a rooster feather,” Josie said. “But don’t worry. I don’t think it’s one of yours.”

  “Funny,” Rooster said. “They had a rooster on the yacht?”

  “I’m guessing roosters, as in plural,” I said, turning my head to look up at Max. “You’ve worked on disasters in the Caribbean, haven’t you?”

  “Sure, several.”

  “What do you know about cockfighting?”

  “I know it’s popular in some circles throughout the region,” Max said. “But I’ve never seen one before.”

  “It’s illegal, right?” I said, sitting up.

  “It is,” Max said, nodding. “And so is cocaine smuggling. But from what we’re seeing floating on the water that didn’t seem to deter the folks on the yacht.”

  “Good point,” I said, nodding.

  We heard the sound of a boat approaching, and Captain Jack walked to the stern. He tied the police boat to his then three policemen followed him back to where we were sitting. I recognized one of the cops immediately.

  “Hey, Detective Renfro,” I said, grinning.

  “You certainly do get around, don’t you?” Detective Renfro said, shaking his head. Then he glanced around. “Hey, Rocco.”

  “How’s it going, Detective?” Rocco said, shaking hands with him.

  “It was a lot better a half hour ago,” he said, then spent a few seconds putting names to faces. “Hi, Josie. It’s nice to see you. Hey, Chef Claire.”

  I handled the rest of the introductions then the detective sat down and removed a notebook from his pocket.

  “Okay, Captain Jack called in to report an explosion,” Detective Renfro said. “Let’s go from there.”

  “We were fishing a few hundred yards away when the yacht exploded,” Captain Jack said.

  “You’re sure it was a yacht?”

  “No doubt about it,” Captain Jack said. “It had to be at least a hundred feet.”

  “Did you happen to get the name of the vessel?” the detective said, scribbling a note.

  “Wanderlust,” Captain Jack said. “I’ve never seen the boat around here before.”

  “And it exploded and sunk?”

  “Right after it split in half,” Captain Jack said.

  “But not before the dog jumped off the boat right before the explosion,” I said.

  “That dog?” the detective said.

  “Yes.”

  “Poodle, right?”

  “She is,” I said, rubbing the dog’s head. “It was like she knew there was a problem with the boat.”

  “Because she jumped into the water before it blew up?” the detective said, frowning.

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s odd,” Detective Renfro said, scribbling another note. “Probably smelle
d a gas leak.”

  “Maybe,” I whispered.

  “What is it?” the detective said, frowning at me.

  “Take a look at this,” I said, handing him one of the feathers.

  “It’s very nice,” he said, examining it. Then he raised an eyebrow at me. “Leaky pillow?”

  “Good one, Detective,” I said. “We think it came from a rooster.”

  “Okay,” Detective Renfro said with a blank stare that eventually turned into a small smile. “So, the rooster wasn’t as smart as the dog and didn’t make it off the boat in time.”

  “Take a look in the water,” I said.

  Detective Renfro and his two colleagues glanced over the edge of the boat. They studied one of the filmy patches then glanced back and forth at each other.

  “Walt, you and Tom go check that out,” Detective Renfro said.

  The other two cops climbed back onto the police boat and slowly made their way out to one of the patches. We watched as they skimmed a sample from the surface, then glanced up at Detective Renfro and nodded.

  “Coke?” Detective Renfro called out.

  “Yeah, that would be my guess,” the cop named Walt said.

  “Okay, bag up as many samples from the other spots as you can,” Detective Renfro said. “But keep them separate.”

  The cops nodded and went about their work. Detective Renfro scanned the water then sat back down.

  “That’s a lot of coke,” he said. “What’s the significance of the feather?”

  “I think they must have also been smuggling roosters,” I said.

  “Cockfighting?” Detective Renfro said.

  “That’s the only thing I can think of,” I said. “Is there cockfighting going on around here?”

  “I’m sure there is,” the detective said, breaking eye contact briefly. “It’s quite popular in some places in the Caribbean.”

  “Is there any money in it?” I said.

  “Sure,” Detective Renfro said. “If you bet on the right bird.”

  “It’s barbaric,” Josie said.

  “It is,” the detective said, nodding. “But not high on anyone’s radar.”