by Ellen Riggs
“Could you hear what they were arguing about?” I asked.
“Ivy,” Kellan said. “Leave the questions to me, please. Thaddeus, go on.”
“Not all of it, because the silverback was soft-spoken. But the red-faced guy said over and over, ‘You can’t fire me. I gave my life to this company. And my marriage.’ Then the silverback said, ‘You’re a disgrace.’” Thaddeus shuddered. “It hurt just to hear that. The red-faced man’s pride must have been shattered. He made all kinds of excuses that silverback shot down one by one. Red ended up actually pleading with him. He said he’d lose his lady and maybe even his kids and asked his boss to let him ‘make it right.’”
Kellan had pulled out his notepad and was writing furiously. “And what did the older man say to that?”
Thaddeus’ brow furrowed and he sighed. “He said, ‘You’d better make it right. Or you won’t like what happens next at all.’”
“In your opinion, did it sound like a serious threat?” Kellan asked.
“I’m no expert, but I’m afraid so. I’m quite certain Red was going to be demoted or fired.”
“Is that it?” Kellan asked.
“That’s all I heard, because my friend arrived, and I always give a lady my full attention.”
Mom patted his arm again. “He most certainly does. A perfect gentleman.” She turned to Kellan. “Men of your generation could learn a thing or two from ours, Kellan.”
“No doubt,” he said, taking Thad’s card and sliding out of the booth. I’d never seen a man make better time getting out of a bar.
“Was it something I said?” Mom asked, with the tinkling laugh that grated on me.
I gave her a little shove so I could make a similar exit. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go rake my manure pile. Did you know it can explode if it’s not turned regularly?”
“Oh, Ivy.” She fanned her face as she got out of the booth after Thaddeus to release me. “Don’t pretend to be funny in front of Thaddeus.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Thaddeus,” I said, still clutching Daisy’s blouse together. “I can hook you up with fertilizer anytime. Runaway Farm has the best combination of dung in Clover Grove. I’m creating a black label brand.”
“Ivy! Stop that right now.”
Finally, I’d managed to mortify her. It was a very proud moment, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
As I left, I heard her tell Thad, “She was always the good one, you know. The concussion did terrible things…”
Outside, I climbed into the truck, happily submitting to an exuberant greeting from Keats. “I don’t know how long we can ride on the concussion excuse, buddy, because I think it’s the new normal. Some days life feels really wobbly, you know?”
He treated me to a steady look from his warm brown eye, put one paw on my leg and mumbled some reassurance. Confidence flowed back into me.
“Okay, you’re right,” I said, as he propped himself on the dash, ready to take on the next challenge. “We’ll get this figured out together. Like we always do.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jilly and I barely said a word as we drove to town that afternoon. Asher had once again offered to take the Flordale guests on a drive down the range of hills to Brenton, a town that boasted a cute little museum and art gallery, plus some high-end gift and clothing stores. I wasn’t sure whether he was looking out for me, trying to impress Jilly, or following Kellan’s orders to keep everyone well occupied and supervised. I accepted gratefully and without asking questions.
Even the truck was inclined to cooperate, and we got to the outskirts without so much as a hiccup. That gave us a chance to enjoy the companionable silence only a true, longstanding friendship allows. Keats was subdued as well, simply staring out the back passenger window instead of roving around to monitor the world from every angle, as he usually did.
That’s why, when he gave a sharp little yip of what sounded like alarm, Jilly and I instantly snapped out of our trance.
“What is it, buddy?” I asked, trying to follow his gaze while staying in my lane. “Oh. Her.”
I geared down carefully to avoid stalling and we watched the big white cube van with the County logo on its side turn right, and then pull over near the corner. Tess Blade hopped out, ran around the back of the truck and opened the rear doors.
“Careful,” Jilly said. “Any slower and you’ll—”
I stalled the pickup. But the time it took to get going again was enough to see Tess pull out a dog catchpole—a long fiberglass pole with a noose on the end of it. I shivered and Keats let out a long, keening whine. We had both experienced what a catchpole could do when it was in the wrong hands. Could a catchpole ever be in the right hands? Surely there were ways to help stray dogs that didn’t involve choking them.
Jilly’s hand was on my right arm and I hadn’t noticed. “Pull over until you catch your breath,” she said.
I hadn’t noticed I was gasping like a drowning woman, either. “Bad memories,” I said.
“I know. Let’s just take a moment before we go on.” She waited till I’d pulled ahead and onto the shoulder before saying, “It wasn’t Tess Blade’s fault, remember? The person who did that to you is gone.”
“Gone,” I said, pulling even further ahead, until the truck was surrounded by scrub bush on the side of the road. We were still outside town limits, where the roads were wide. “I don’t want to see what she does with that pole.”
“Me either. We’ll rest a minute and then go on, okay?”
Keats was pacing back and forth across the back seat, a breathing, black-and-white embodiment of my unease. He paused for a second when I turned and stared at me with his blue eye. His warm brown eye would have calmed me, if he’d wanted me calm. I got the distinct impression he wanted me to do something. But what?
“Is there something I should know about Tess?” I said.
Jilly shrugged. “How would I know?”
“I was asking Keats,” I said. “He’s trying to mesmerize me like he does the livestock. That’s what sheepdogs do, you know.”
She turned and watched, shaking her head as she saw him work his magic. “He is, too. Totally fixated. What is up with him?”
I tore my eyes away from the dog and focussed on the County truck instead. And that’s when it hit me. “Jilly, I’ve got to look inside that truck.”
“What? No! Are you crazy?”
“Maybe, but I’ll explain later. For the moment, you need to stand watch while I take a quick look. It’ll take Tess time to seize and wrangle a dog. I can get in and out in that time, no problem.”
“No way,” she said, crossing her arms. “I am calling Kellan right now if you even try it, Ivy Galloway. I’m sure whatever you have in mind is dangerous. On top of that, you could get in trouble with the County. You’re already on the watch list.”
“I won’t get in trouble if I don’t get caught. All I need to do is take a quick peek into the truck. No big deal.” I was already opening the driver’s door. “All you need to do is stand watch with Keats for three or four minutes. I’ve had an epiphany, thanks to Keats, and I need to see if we’re right.”
“Ivy, you’ll be the death of us all,” she said. But she opened her door and jumped down.
I let Keats out, hooked him up and handed her the leash. “Here’s your cover,” I said. “You’re just out walking the dog. Nothing to see here.”
We walked around the corner to where the white truck was parked at the end of the long driveway of a mansion that had seen grander times. There was no sign of Tess Blade. She could have been inside, or behind the house. Either way, I probably had a good few minutes before she emerged. On the other hand, the woman always moved at a run.
The back doors of the County truck were still open, practically inviting me to hop inside.
“Stand a bit closer to the gate, where you can see her coming,” I said. “Code word bluebird.”
“Code words death wish,” Jilly grumbled. “This had better be
worth it, Ivy.”
Keats grumbled as I hoisted myself into the truck and I hushed him. “Just stand watch, Keats. It’s a critical role.” I poked my head back out. “Come up with a stalling tactic just in case, Jilly.”
“Oh right,” she said. “Maybe I’ll pretend to faint and see how that goes.”
“Perfect.” I gave her the thumbs up and turned on my phone light. What I was looking for should stand out in all the normal equipment a dogcatcher might carry.
Except that this particular dogcatcher carried a lot of stuff. There were two big metal dog crates near the back door that I had to skirt around without bashing my shins. Behind them were a couple of smaller plastic dog carriers, some baskets overflowing with bungee cords and rope, and a pile of tarps.
The walls were covered in hooks holding even more apparatus, including three ladders, a long poker similar to the one I used to manage Wilma, and a shepherd’s hook. There were extra coveralls, hip waders and even a full scuba suit. It seemed like she was ready for anything, whether it be a cat in a tree, runaway livestock, or even Noah’s ark sinking in one of the nearby streams, since there was no large body of water within county limits.
With all of this equipment neatly arranged, I still didn’t see what I was looking for. That left me no choice but to clamber over everything and go right to the back of the truck.
That’s when I heard Jilly’s voice ring out loud and clear. “Bluebird. Oh look, buddy, it’s a BLUEBIRD.”
Cursing softly, I flashed the light into each back corner. In one corner, there was a pile of towels and the tip of a silver handle poked out from under them. Bending, I carefully lifted the corner of one towel and gasped. I’d expected to find this—knew I would find this—and yet I was still shocked.
No matter how many times Jilly chanted “bluebird” I wasn’t leaving without this valuable evidence. If I did, I was quite sure it wouldn’t be here when Kellan’s team came to investigate. Tess Blade would dispose of it quickly, because it didn’t belong to her and it sure looked incriminating. I was surprised she hadn’t done so already. For all her officiousness, she didn’t seem stupid.
Now I was stuck. There was no getting out of the truck without an explanation, and I could hear Tess and Jilly talking now. Jilly’s voice had taken on a high sing-song quality and I only picked up a few words like “dog walk” and “gorgeous weather.”
Tess was getting closer to the truck and barking that didn’t come from Keats told me I’d soon have company in the back. Wrapping the towel around the metal device, I tucked it inside my coat. Then I got down on my hands and knees, grabbed a tarp and draped it over myself. The plastic dog carriers would shield me from view unless she hopped right inside. She should be able to get the stray dog into the metal crate without doing that, and she probably wouldn’t want to waste time. Then, after she closed the door and went around to climb inside the cab, I could release myself and jump out before she started rolling.
It was a good plan, if I could just stay calm and move quickly at the right moment.
There was growling behind the truck from the stray dog, and Tess spoke with soothing sweet talk. I hadn’t expected her to be so kind, but I guess it was part of her training.
“Just hop in here, honey,” she said. “Let me put the ramp down for you because I know it’s scary. But it’s all going to be fine. We’ll get you back to headquarters and see if we can find your owner. And if we can’t, well, a pretty dog like you will find a new home. I can guarantee you that. Now, up you go.”
There was a scrabble of claws on metal and then another metal clatter as the crate door closed.
“Good girl. Now you’re safe. You hang tight back here. I’ll drive nice and slow so it doesn’t freak you out, okay?”
The double doors slammed one after the other, leaving me alone in the back of the Animal Services truck with a terrified stray dog and a bloody murder weapon.
Chapter Twenty
Tess had lied to the stray dog twice.
First, she said the dog was pretty. When I threw off the tarp and shone my phone light into the crate, however, I saw the big crossbreed wasn’t attractive at all. She was a peculiar mix of bulldog and possibly shar pei, with cropped ears and loose folds of taupe skin. But then we all have “a type,” I supposed, and my type was border collie.
Second, Tess didn’t drive slowly. In fact, she took off like a rocket long before I could get to the door, taking corners so erratically that the metal crate slid around. The dog whined and I crawled over to comfort her. The poor thing licked my fingers through the bars and I murmured, “We’ll be okay, girl. Let’s just hang on for dear life.”
Bracing my boots on the side of the truck, I pushed the crate back and sat that way to prevent it from sliding. It prevented me from sliding too, so it was a good strategy. It also left my hands free to text Jilly.
“Follow me,” I wrote. “I’ve got a plan.”
“I don’t drive stick, remember?”
“You’ve seen me do it.”
“Forget it. Hailing a cab,” she said.
Hailing cabs was one of Jilly’s superpowers. Back in Boston, I’d thrash my arm around to no avail, only to have Jilly lift a finger and have a taxi magically appear. Here in Clover Grove, however, cabs were few and far between.
Nevertheless, a few minutes later she texted that she was cabbed up and in pursuit.
“Here’s the plan,” I wrote. “Get Teri Mason to call in an animal emergency. Tell her to throw the word ‘rabies’ around. Tess will rush over there, and when she goes inside I’ll escape.”
There was a long gap in texts but I didn’t need Jilly to tell me it had worked. The truck screeched to a halt, pulled a heart-stopping U-turn and took off again. Tess had to slow down in town, and that gave me a chance to clamber back to the pile of tarps and bury myself again.
Soon, the truck stopped and I felt the vibration as the driver’s door slammed shut. I had just enough time to turn my phone off before there was a loud click and the back doors opened. Cool air poured in and it was all I could do not to gasp audibly. The poor dog was so terrified she’d ejected from all orifices and in close confines, it stank something awful.
“Oh girly, you’ve had an accident,” she said. “Or three. But you’re going to have to sit tight for a bit because we’ve got an emergency. A serious one.” There was a pause and she mused, “What should I take for a rabid racoon? I’ve got the catchpole and the long gloves. I need the plastic carrier.”
Oh no. The plastic carrier that was right beside me.
I heard the thump of boots as she sprang into the truck and clomped toward me. She grabbed the first plastic crate, slid it out and then dropped it over the side of the truck with a clatter.
“I’ll take the poker, too,” she said, coming back my way.
The poker that was right beside the murder weapon now tucked into my jacket.
There was a long pause, during which I held my breath and prayed. Finally I heard her pick up the poker from the floor. It whacked me in the shin as she turned and I bit my lip to keep from yelping in pain.
The pole clunked against the door before she tossed it out on the asphalt and then she jumped down after it. “Stay calm,” she said. “I’ll leave the door open to air it out a bit. If there’s a rabid racoon here, we’ll figure something out for you. Chill, sweetheart.”
I waited for the rattle of the plastic crate to fade away and added an extra minute or two in case she forgot something.
Then I threw back the tarp and moved faster than I probably ever had in my life.
Jilly said nothing as we rode in the cab back to my pickup. Absolutely nothing. It was no longer a companionable silence but an angry one, and I’d felt nothing quite like it in our 15 years of friendship.
Keats on the other hand could not have been more delighted with me. There was room between Jilly and me in the back seat of the cab, but he insisted on sitting in my lap. It wasn’t terribly comfortable given what I wa
s concealing. He wriggled, licked my face and fanned his tail in a low wag that told me how worried he’d been about me. Jilly had worried, too, I knew, but she certainly wasn’t going to give me the big sloppy smile Keats had on his face.
“I can explain,” I said.
“Good.” Her green eyes were as cool as a frozen pond. “Because Kellan is meeting us at your truck.”
“Perfect.” I let out a huge sigh of relief. “I don’t want to hold onto this thing one second longer than necessary.”
She gestured to the cab driver in front of us. “Let’s talk about it in a few minutes.”
It really was only a few minutes. Tess had been heading for the Animal Services building that sat on the far side of town when she got called to Teri Mason’s store, which wasn’t far from where we’d left the truck. Poor Teri was probably busy explaining right now how the rabid racoon had mysteriously vanished. Hopefully she’d be able to convince Tess it was all a big mistake so the stray dog wouldn’t have to sit in the truck too long.
When the cab dropped us off, there was no sign of the police SUV. We got inside to wait and Jilly raised her eyebrows. I opened my jacket and pulled back the towel, expecting shock… dismay… something.
“What exactly is that?” she said. “Bolt cutters?”
“Sort of.” The 18-inch-long contraption looked like pliers, with handles at one end and rounded pinchers at the other. “It’s a castrator, also known as an emasculator.”
“Okay. But why did you need to steal this contraption from Tess Blade?”
“I didn’t steal it, exactly. I reclaimed it for Senna. Her castrator went missing at Runaway Farm the day she snipped Archie. But when she was lecturing Tess about humane castration on her last visit, I got a funny feeling. I couldn’t put my finger on it till we saw the truck today. Then I put two and two together and realized Tess stole the castrator when she was hanging around after Wilf’s murder. She was inside the barn that morning, so she had access.”
