Hounded in Christmas River

by Meg Muldoon

  “But we’ve known each other since high school, Billy,” she said. “If you had something you wanted to tell me, why couldn’t you have just come by my house? Why all this creeping around?”

  He rubbed his wrists anxiously, still unable to look into her eyes. I noticed he was shaking ever so slightly.

  “It was… it was a personal matter. And I didn’t know how to tell you right...”

  He trailed off.

  Aubrey looked at Daniel then with a frustrated expression.

  “Can I read it?” she said, nodding to the letter.

  Daniel took in a deep breath.

  Then he did something surprising.

  He looked sharply at Luke.

  “Do you want to be the one to tell her, Mr. Hosmer?” Daniel said in a low, sorrowful voice.

  Luke’s eyebrows drew together as if he was confused.

  “Huh?”

  He didn’t seem to have the slightest clue what Daniel was talking about.

  Which was right about where I was, too.

  “I think you know what I’m getting at,” Daniel said, tapping the letter. “So I’m giving you a chance to tell the truth before she reads this.”

  “Tell me what?” Aubrey said, her eyes growing wide.

  Luke leaned back.

  “Why would I know anything about what’s in that letter?” he said defensively.

  Daniel gave him a dead pan stare.

  Luke cleared his throat.

  “All I know, Sheriff, is that this man tried to injure my girlfriend in front of the entire parade and for some reason, you’re not doing anything about it.”

  “I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Bill said, looking up at Aubrey for the first time. “It was the last thing I wanted. You’re such a nice and considerate person, it just didn’t seem right. But after a while, I realized there was just no way around it. And I had to warn you somehow. But I didn’t want you to hate me for it. I couldn’t stand it if you hated me.”

  Bill’s eyes darted over to Luke. Then went back to Aubrey.

  Luke didn’t say anything.

  So Bill finally did.

  “Luke’s been seeing Carrie Campbell on the side, Aubrey,” he said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Chapter 24

  Aubrey’s eyes bulged. She slowly turned her head, gazing at her boyfriend.

  But Luke didn’t seem shocked or remorseful.

  He just looked angry.

  “Yes, Bill. I do see Carrie occasionally,” he said matter-of-factly. “We meet to discuss Humane Society board issues. It’s a purely professional relationship, you half-wit.”

  Luke let out a scoff and crossed his arms tighter against his chest.

  I didn’t profess to be a great reader of people or to be able to tell when someone was being dishonest.

  But if I had to put money down, I’d say Aubrey’s boyfriend was lying through his teeth.

  He’d been expecting this moment. And the words sounded as though he’d rehearsed them a dozen times already.

  “Your relationship didn’t look so professional last month,” Bill said. “Or last week. Or this week, either. We’ve been short-staffed, so I’ve been lending a hand in the Redfield brewpub restaurant this summer. I’ve been your beer server at least three times, Mr. Hosmer, though you barely saw me because you and Carrie were so busy…”

  Bill shot a glance at Aubrey. He stopped speaking when he saw the hurt in her eyes.

  “…being unprofessional,” he said quietly.

  “That’s not… that’s a lie,” Luke said, sticking his finger out toward Bill. “He’s a damn half-wit liar.”

  “You knew that Aubrey would never set foot in the Redfield Brewpub because of her views about the Pooch Vitamin Brew,” Bill said, his voice getting stronger. “So it was the perfect place to carry on your affair with Carrie. A place full of weekend tourists where Aubrey would never catch you. You see, I ain’t as much of a half-wit as you think, Mr. Hosmer.”

  “You son of a—”

  “Is this… is this true, Luke?” Aubrey stammered, her water-logged eyes searching his face.

  Luke let out a beleaguered sigh.

  “No. I told you, babe – he’s lying. Isn’t it clear what’s going on here? He’s a nut with a crush on you, and he’s trying to come between us. Nothing more than…”

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  He trailed off, his voice having lost all conviction.

  The game was up – and he knew it.

  “Look…” Luke started again. “Can we just go somewhere and talk about this in private? It’s our business. I don’t see why we need an audience here.”

  He nodded to all of us.

  A lone tear suddenly dripped down Aubrey’s cheek.

  I bit my lip.

  The whole situation made me feel rotten. Especially since I knew that there wasn’t a thing anybody could do at the moment to help her.

  Only the passage of time helped a thing like this.

  She wiped at her face with the back sleeve of her Snoopy costume.

  Then she looked at him with clear eyes.

  “No,” she said in a strong voice. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Luke. Because we don’t have any business to talk about. Not anymore.”

  “That’s not fair, Aubrey,” he said in a nasally voice. “Please – just let me tell you my side of the story. Give me a chance to—”

  Aubrey cleared her throat, interrupting the weak and feeble pleads of her ex-boyfriend. She abruptly grabbed the beagle’s leash from him and led the dog away.

  “Thank you for clearing this up,” she said, nodding to Daniel, Bill, and me. “But, um…”

  Her voice quivered with emotion and gave out. But she took a moment to collect herself, then continued.

  “I’ve got a lot more to do for the parade. All those dogs are depending on me…”

  She trailed off, nodding to the letter in Daniel’s hand.

  “Can I have that, Sheriff?”

  Daniel considered it for a moment, then nodded. He handed her the letter.

  She pocketed it. Then she walked quickly down the alleyway, back toward the parade.

  Chapter 25

  Christmas River’s first annual Pooch Parade wasn’t exactly a feel-good event considering what had happened.

  But when the parade finally came to an end on the other side of downtown near Geronimo Brewing Co., I did feel a sense of relief.

  Because at least we’d gotten to the bottom of who was after Aubrey – and figured out that in fact, nobody was really after her at all.

  After Aubrey left and Luke stormed away in a huff, we got a chance to talk to Bill McClure some more.

  Like he’d said in the letter – Bill had seen Luke and the Humane Society board member Carrie Campbell together at Redfield Brewing on numerous occasions. Apparently, Bill had grown up with Aubrey and they had been friends. Bill, who had been in a bike accident when he was younger and suffered from several learning disabilities because of it, said that Aubrey was the only person who had been nice to him in high school. She helped tutor him, and he credited her with being the only reason he graduated.

  Bill said he always felt indebted to her for it.

  He said he’d been trying to work up the courage to tell her about what he’d seen at the brewery for several weeks now, but that each time, he always fell short. He’d call her, but couldn’t find the words. He’d seen her and followed her once while out on a Pooch Brew delivery with Connor’s car, but he hadn’t been able to figure out how to tell her then either.

  He finally decided a handwritten note explaining the whole thing was the only way he’d be able to tell her what he’d seen. His plan had been to pass the letter to her during the chaos of the parade.

  Obviously, that plan didn’t work out so well.

  But in the end, I guess Bill had done what he’d set out to do. Aubrey knew the truth now – however hard that was for her to stomach. And I supp
osed Luke could no longer act like the two-faced cheater that he was. Carrie Campbell couldn’t act that way either for that matter. It was only a matter of time before the town gossips got ahold of this juicy bit of news, and it would no doubt get back to Carrie’s husband about her dinners with Luke Hosmer.

  Like I said – it wasn’t a feel-good ending. But now Aubrey could rest somewhat easier. She might have had a broken heart, but at least she wasn’t in any physical danger.

  After talking with Bill, Daniel and I had made our way over to the parade finish area. I squinted into the mass of owners and pets and parade spectators milling around the street. The event had been over for at least fifteen minutes, and Daniel and I had come looking for his better two-thirds of the lawman/outlaw trio.

  My eyes zeroed in on a couple of miniature cowboy hats near to the ground, and I smiled. I tapped Daniel and pointed at them.

  We walked over, weaving our way through the thronging crowd. A minute later, we came up to Lt. Vicky Delgado. She had been kind enough to take the leashes and walk the rest of the parade with Huckleberry and Chadwick.

  I was about to thank her for taking over when Daniel put a hand on my shoulder, holding me back for a moment.

  That’s when I noticed the little girl with the heart paw print T-shirt kneeling down next to Huckleberry. She had her arms wrapped around his soft fur and there was a look of supreme happiness on her face.

  “How old is he?” she asked.

  “Um… I don’t know exactly, honey,” Vicky said. “He actually belongs to a friend of mine. I’m just looking after these two dogs until he gets back.”

  “He’s beautiful,” the girl said, looking into Hucks’ eyes.

  Good ol’ Huckleberry. There was a big, dopey smile on his face as he panted, and I sensed that he was loving all of the attention.

  “I wish I had a dog,” the little girl said. “I’ve wanted one my whole entire life.”

  I couldn’t help but find humor in that – her entire life couldn’t have been more than ten years.

  Of course, at that age, I knew a year could feel like an eternity.

  “My mom says maybe we’ll get one soon,” she babbled on. “But she doesn’t know if now’s a good time. She said our finances aren’t so good, and that it depends on what my dad says. He lives in California.”

  I bit my lower lip as the girl spoke, suddenly overcome with a sense of sadness.

  It was that thing that only kids did – repeating things their parents said in such a matter-of-fact way, but without really understanding what it meant.

  The little girl didn’t understand yet that she was growing up in a broken home.

  She didn’t fully understand, either, that her mom was struggling to make ends meet.

  I watched Vicky as the girl finished speaking. I could tell the lieutenant wasn’t sure what to say to any of that.

  “Well… I’m sure you’d do a great job taking care of a dog,” Vicky finally said, shifting her weight awkwardly between her feet. “You seem like a very responsible kid.”

  The girl looked up, beaming at that.

  “Sophie? Sophie, where’d you run off to?”

  The girl stood up at the sound of a woman’s voice in the distance.

  “That’s my mom,” she said. “I better go.”

  She gave Hucks one last rub on the head.

  “Thanks for letting me talk to your dog, ma’am.”

  A moment later, the little girl was running away through the crowd.

  Chapter 26

  Quiet moments were few and far between lately.

  But the next evening, with the pet parade being over and the tourists having cleared out, I found myself alone in the pie kitchen, having exactly one of those quiet moments that were so hard to come by.

  I decided to take the opportunity to treat myself. I cut a big slice of freshly-baked Whiskey Apple Pie, poured myself a cup of hot hazelnut coffee, propped open the back porch door to get some nice air blowing through the kitchen, and took a seat in front of my laptop.

  Outside, the sun was sinking below the horizon and there was a significant chill in the air. A sharp breeze wove through the pines, and the sound of rustling branches drifted into the pie shop.

  And even though I knew there would be many more warm weeks ahead in September, I also couldn’t help but feel that summer was fading fast here in Christmas River. And I sensed that it was only a matter of time before I’d be shoveling snow off the sidewalk out in front of the shop and taking pie orders for folks’ Thanksgiving feasts.

  And as much as I loved summer, I had to admit – I was looking forward to fall. To a much-deserved lull in the tourist season, to crisp apple cider days, to cozy wool blankets, and most importantly – to having more time to spend with the ones I loved.

  I pulled up Google and started typing in the name of a hike on the other side of the mountain pass that I wanted to go on with Daniel this autumn – one that had been on my bucket list for a while because it promised phenomenal vistas of the Cascades and colorful leaves. But before I finished typing the name of the hike, something in one of the other browser screens caught my eye.

  It was an article titled “Serious questions arise about Pooch Vitamin Brew after several canines fall ill.”

  And though I had already read the story, I found myself clicking on the browser bar and pulling it up again.

  The article had initially been published this morning in The Dog Mountain Chronicle – a small newspaper in a town that was a few hours outside Portland. Apparently, the woman that I had seen at the dog parade the day before – the one who had helped me collect my pies and gone over to speak to Connor Redfield – was actually a reporter. Freddie Wolf covered dog-related news for The Dog Mountain Chronicle. And after getting some tips about dogs falling ill in her community following their consumption of Redfield’s Pooch Vitamin Brew, she’d driven here to Christmas River to do a little digging about the purported benefits of the drink.

  Though Connor had given her a “no comment” when she asked him questions about the safety of the Pooch Brew, it seemed that his silence didn’t really matter. Based on her story, at least five dogs had fallen ill after ingesting his product. They were all on the recovery, but it seemed clear that something had gone wrong with the processing of the drink. And though details were still coming out about what exactly Connor Redfield put in the dog brew, I gathered that things weren’t looking so good for the future of his product, or maybe for the future of his brewery, either.

  Freddie Wolf’s story had been the most-read of the week in The Chronicle – and judging from the number of comments at the bottom, there were more dogs that had been negatively affected by the Pooch Brew. By the afternoon, Freddie’s article had been picked up by the Associated Press, running on news sites across the country.

  And though I never wanted to see local Christmas River businesses fail, I had trouble having a lot of sympathy for Connor Redfield.

  I came to the end of the article again, seeing that there were twice as many comments on the story than what had been there that morning. I glanced over them: it seemed like there was a whole slew of angry dog owners ready to take up some torches and pitchforks on their way to the Redfield Brewery.

  If Connor Redfield thought he was the victim of harassment before, he hadn’t seen anything yet.

  Overwhelmed by the tornado of angry comments, I clicked out of the story and shut my laptop. I gazed out the window, finishing off the rest of my Whiskey Apple Pie slice and enjoying the way the last rays of sunlight danced on the pine trees behind the shop.

  I sighed happily.

  I had a feeling it was going to be a beautiful month ahead.

  A moment later, I heard the sound of footsteps on the back deck. Daniel appeared at the window.

  “As I live and breathe – is that Cinnamon Peters I see slacking off?”

  I grinned, finishing the last nibble of pie and standing up.

  Probably in all the times Daniel
had come to the pie shop, he’d only seen me taking a break a handful of instances.

  “It’s the end of summer,” I said. “Which means it’s finally time for relaxing and enjoying.”

  “Here, here,” he said as he stepped inside the open door.

  “Want some Whiskey Apple Pie?” I asked. “It’s the flavor of the month.”

  “I’d love some, darlin,’ but I’m going to have to take a raincheck. We better get a move on if we’re going to hit PetSmart before it closes.”

  Daniel and I had plans to buy some puppy kibble and some new things for Brighty – which we were picking up and taking home first thing tomorrow morning. I would have rather gone and gotten him that day, but the Humane Society was closed.

  I glanced at my watch – I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.

  I took my plate to the sink and rinsed it off. Then I grabbed my jean jacket off the coat rack, sliding into it.

  “Say – now that I see the time, weren’t you supposed to be here an hour ago?” I asked, lifting my hair out from under the jacket.

  “Yeah – I got a little tied up at work.”

  “Old Mrs. Crowley talking your ear off about the noise in Meadow Plaza again?” I asked.

  Pearl Crowley, a 98-year-old widow who was about the only person in Christmas River that could rival Warren in the rambling story department, lived alone in a historic Craftsman home near the plaza. Daniel said she’d called the Sheriff’s station nearly every day this summer to complain about the noise levels in the plaza.

  Daniel smiled, then shook his head.

  “No, no – old Pearl and I chatted earlier. I was actually working on something good this evening.”

  “Do tell,” I said, grabbing my purse and turning off the lights in the kitchen.

  “Well, it’s something Vicky and I have been looking into. You know the Lecky Farm puppy mill thing you were talking about the other day? Well, I didn’t think that those puppies getting left at the Humane Society was something that happened by accident. I figured somebody must have stolen them and left them there. Someone who maybe didn’t agree with what was going on.”