Marlon’s voice rose. He called me horrible names. Then he shoved the bowl back in my face, this time quite hard.
“Know what I’d do to you if I could? All that’s saving you is the money you’re going to make for me.”
Money? As though … what? I was going to work for Marlon? I do not work. How could anyone, even such a terrible being as him, miss such an obvious fact? I don’t work for anyone, not even those I feel close to, or even … let’s just get it out there, love. I live. I play. I have the occasional adventure. But I do not work. Why would I?
I was about to push the bowl away again when I heard the barking of a dog, not too far away. The barking of a dog is not pleasing to the ear, as you must have noticed. Dogs bark. Cats purr. Is there really anything else to be said?
But in this particular case, I was not unhappy to hear the sound. The not-too-distant bark was a bark I knew well, an odd mixture of shriek and rumble that meant only one thing. Arthur was in the neighborhood.
I pushed the bowl away with my paw.
Marlon’s face went red. He drew back his foot, but at that moment came a knock, not on the door of this closet, but on another door nearby.
Marlon’s kick never came. He softly lowered his foot and went still. When humans are surprised, their smells change. If it’s a nice surprise, then the smell is nice, too, at least to my nose. A bad surprise means a bad smell, which was what we had now in the linen closet.
Knock knock.
Marlon stood very still, not making a sound. Arthur barked again, very loud now, right outside. Not right outside the linen closet, but outside this dwelling I was in.
Knock knock.
A man whose voice I didn’t recognize called out. “Hello? Ms. Vance? You in there? Hello?”
Marlon remained very still. What was happening? Some man I didn’t know was at the door, looking for Ms. Vance. Ms. Vance was someone I did know, although not well, but well enough to have learned she could be trusted, at least when it came to judging beauty. Also Arthur was out there with this unknown man. Why would that be? He should have been at home, and if not at home, then with Bro or Harmony, or Mom. Arthur was not supposed to be roaming around, and therefore lucky for him he had no interest in roaming around. The roamer was me.
What else? The only other thing I knew about this situation was that Marlon had no intention of answering that knock. Meaning the unknown man—and Arthur!—would soon be going away, possibly very soon, even this minute. I lunged forward, right over the bowl, and sank my teeth into Marlon’s ankle, nice and deep.
“Arrgghh!” he cried out.
He looked at me in fury, and was about to try something really dreadful—I just knew it—when there was more knocking, much louder now. And Arthur was barking again, also much louder. A really horrible sound I loved at that moment.
“Ms. Vance? Ms. Vance?” Did I hear a doorknob being rattled? I thought so.
Marlon turned toward the closet door. “Coming!” he shouted. “Coming!”
He raised his pant leg, examined what I’d done. A good job in my opinion, although not his, as I could tell from the look he shot me, a look that promised bad things in my future. Then he moved to the closet door.
The closet door opened with one of those brass levers that get pushed down. Marlon put his hand on the brass lever. He was about to open the door. This was my chance. Was I up to it? I didn’t feel too good. My mind was fuzzy, and my body had given pretty much all it had left on that lunge and bite. A glorious bite, yes, except now I was weak.
But this was my chance.
The door opened. I glimpsed a kitchen in what seemed to be some sort of cabin. Marlon stepped out of the closet. I sprang after him, headed for freedom! Without even looking back, Marlon slammed the door shut with his heel, right in my face. He slammed it so hard I heard a faint crack or splitting sound somewhere above, and I myself got knocked to the back of the closet, rolling and tumbling. How slow I’d become! What was wrong with me?
I heard Marlon’s footsteps, moving away, but not far.
“Yes?” he said.
“Sheriff McKnight,” said the man outside. “Is Pamela Vance inside?”
A slight pause, and then Marlon spoke. “Pamela Vance?”
“She’s the registered owner of this cabin.”
“Ah,” said Marlon. “I see. I’m just renting it. Through a home share. So I actually don’t even know this person you’re talking about.”
“WOOF WOOF WOOF.”
That was Arthur, no doubt about it. Some of his barks are all about confusion and most of the rest are about wanting a treat, but this one was unusual. It sounded angry. Arthur has many shortcomings but you can’t call him the angry type.
“And you are?” said the sheriff. Wasn’t Carstairs the sheriff? Or had he messed up in some way and lost his job, maybe after all that frightening business at Catastrophe Falls? All I knew was that this new sheriff—if that was what we were dealing with—had a much more pleasant voice.
“The renter,” Marlon said.
“Your name?”
Another pause, longer than the last. “Marlon.”
“Can you open the door, please, Marlon?”
“Uh, sure. Sure thing.”
I heard the soft creak of the door opening. And then right away “WOOF WOOF WOOF.” And more woof-woofing, yes, furious, for sure. Why Arthur would be furious was a question I couldn’t answer, but I had no problem with it and wouldn’t have minded if that barking went on forever.
“Hey, Arthur, easy there,” the sheriff said. “He doesn’t seem to like you, Marlon.”
“I don’t know why,” Marlon said. “I’m an animal lover, big-time.”
“WOOF WOOF WOOF!”
“Mind shortening up on that leash a bit?” said Marlon.
“It’s short enough,” said the sheriff. “C’mon, Arthur, be a good boy.”
Just like that, Arthur amped his barking down to a growl. That was a surprise. How often had people asked Arthur to be a good boy with no result whatsoever? I wanted to meet this sheriff. Oh, yes, and badly. I tried to rise, but my legs weren’t quite ready to do it.
“How long is your rental?” the sheriff asked.
“Oh, a week, maybe two. It’s such a beautiful part of the country.”
“So you’re on vacation?”
“Pretty much.”
“Where are you from?”
A very slight pause, and then, “Florida.”
“What part?”
“The Orlando area.”
“Can I see some ID?”
“ID?”
“A driver’s license will do.”
“But what’s this about, sheriff? I thought you were looking for … for Ms. whatever her name was.”
“Ms. Vance,” said the sheriff. “Pamela Vance. I was told she was staying here at her cabin while the county fair’s going on.”
“That’s strange. I’ve never met her, as I already told you. And she’s certainly not staying here. I’m by myself.”
“WOOF WOOF WOOF!”
“Arthur,” said the sheriff. “Please.”
“Grrrrr.”
“I’m pretty busy,” Marlon said, “so if that’s all …”
“Busy?” said the sheriff. “I thought this was a vacation.”
“A working vacation,” Marlon said. “Work never goes away, as I’m sure you know.”
“What is it you do?”
“I’m an investor.”
“An investor in what?”
“Various industries.”
“Such as?”
“Biotech, for one.”
“Way above my pay grade,” the sheriff said. “Your ID, please.”
“I don’t—” Marlon stopped himself. Then came a very faint rustling sound, the kind of sound that might be made by a hand sliding into a pocket. “Here you go.”
A brief silence. “Marlon Pruitt,” the sheriff said.
“Correct.”
“An acc
urate photo of you. Except no Band-Aid on your chin.”
“Shaving cut,” Marlon said.
Another silence, except for the growling, now very low, like Arthur was tiring of it. He tired easily, of many things.
“Any relation to Randa Bea Pruitt?” the sheriff said.
“Never heard of her.”
“Have I seen you before?” the sheriff said. “You look a bit familiar.”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Marlon said. “I know I’ve never seen you.”
I heard a very soft smacking sound, maybe the wallet getting handed back to Marlon.
“If you happen to see Ms. Vance, tell her to call my office,” the sheriff said. “Here’s my card.”
“Sure thing,” Marlon said, “although I doubt I’ll see her.”
“Been to the county fair yet?” the sheriff said.
“I have no interest in fairs,” said Marlon. “But you still haven’t told me what this is about.”
“Ms. Vance is a possible witness in an investigation.”
“Ah,” said Marlon.
Whoa. Back up. The sheriff’s card? Was he leaving? Oh, no! I tried to rise, but again my legs wouldn’t help. I needed to make a sound, to cry out. But my mouth and throat were so dry hardly any sound at all came out, just a faint little whimper I could barely hear myself.
“WOOF WOOF WOOF!”
And what was this? The sudden skittery pawing of a clumsy runner on polished floors? Was Arthur in the house? Arthur! Yes! Arthur was coming to the rescue! Skitter skitter skitter, closer and closer, a beeline toward the closet, because—he knew!
But then a kind of strangled “Eek,” from Arthur, followed by a skidding sound.
“Hey!” said the sheriff. “What did you just do?”
“Grabbed the leash,” said Marlon. “I don’t want to pay for any damages to the property, and your dog was out of control.”
“There was no need to grab so hard,” the sheriff said. I heard something new in his voice, a sort of hardness, very strong and deep.
“It wasn’t intentional,” Marlon said. “I’m an animal lover.”
“So you say.”
“I’m sorry,” said Marlon. “Hope I didn’t hurt you, fella. Can I give him a treat?”
“Maybe some other time,” said the sheriff. “Come on, Arthur.”
No no no. I tried to cry out one more time, now doing a little better, but Arthur was barking again, and no human could possibly have heard me. Moments later, the sheriff and Arthur were out the door and gone. A car started up and drove away. Arthur didn’t stop barking, but the sound faded away to nothing.
SOMETHING BOTHERING YOU, ARTHUR?” said Sheriff McKnight.
What was that? I could hardly hear him, what with all the barking going on in the car. My first time in a cop car, and it was very nice, especially how I got to sit up front so I could see where we were going and what we were passing at the same time. But where else would I be sitting except for up front? Have you forgotten that I was a deputy? You’re not alone. I kept forgetting, too.
“Didn’t care for that guy, did you?” the sheriff said.
What guy was he talking about? I liked most guys I met just fine.
Meanwhile we were going by a mountain I’d seen before, with ski trails and chairlifts, the trails now green and the chairlifts not moving. This was Mount Ethan, where people came from all over the place to ski in winter. Lots of condos and ski houses stood at the base of the mountain, plus cabins spread out in the woods nearby, but some skiers stayed with us at the inn. Skiing guests were great. When they came down off the mountain, they pretty much ate until bedtime and they were always happy and in the mood to share.
“You can tell a lot about a guy from how he treats a dog,” the sheriff said.
No question about that, but where were we going with this? I took a good look at Sheriff McKnight. He had a strong-featured face—nothing puny about that nose or chin—but it was somehow gentle at the same time, not a combo you see every day.
He glanced at me. “Here’s my advice, Arthur. Ignore the lousy people in life, don’t have anything to do with them. Just enjoy the good ones.”
Kind of complicated, but that part about enjoying the good ones made total sense. I was on board. Sheriff McKnight could count on me. The barking we’d had going on in our official cop car died down.
We drove into town, the part of town farthest from the river, where the inn is. The streets here are quiet, with small houses and tidy lawns. The sheriff turned onto a street I’d been on before, and not long ago.
“Tell me about Yvette, Arthur.” He looked my way again and laughed. “What a world that would be, huh? You could be my confidant.”
Sheriff McKnight had lost me completely. Yvette was Mom, of course, but all the rest was a mystery.
“I haven’t even thought of anything like this since … since … well, it’s been a long time,” he said, adding to my confusion. He shook his head. “When my mom said, ‘One day there’ll be someone new,’ and I stomped right out of her house? Like a child. But I am her child, so I guess she was looking out for me.” He took a deep breath. “Wasn’t nearly ready to hear it then. But now? I’m having trouble getting Yvette out of my mind. Not even sure I want to.”
Mom was on his mind? What was so surprising? She was on my mind all time. What was the deal with our sheriffs? First there’d been that meanie Hunzinger, now locked up, if I’d heard right. After that came Carstairs, who’d gotten run out of town. And now this dude, not sure he wanted Mom on his mind? How were things supposed to work if you didn’t have Mom on the scene, somewhere inside you?
We pulled up in front of a house with a lot of hanging plants on the porch. This was Edna’s house, where Mom, Bro, Harmony, and I had gone to deliver Princess. And … and pick up Queenie? Wasn’t that the plan? But Queenie wasn’t here. I knew that very well! Queenie was back at that cabin we’d just left! The cabin where Mr. Ware answered the door, not the Mr. Ware with the wild white hair and the shaggy white eyebrows and the old man voice, but the young Mr. Ware underneath. A very bad man, or a very bad pair of men. You can tell a lot about a person by how he treats—
Whoa! And he hadn’t treated me very well at all! Yanking my leash the way he had? How did he think that felt?
“Hey, Arthur, what’s the matter?”
Barking had started up inside our cop car again, and the barker was me, no question. I was angry. Mr. Ware, or Marlon, or Marlon Pruitt, or whatever he was called, had Queenie back at the cabin near Mount Ethan. I thought I’d heard her there and I’d picked up her scent for sure. I even knew where to look: behind the slatted door at the back of the kitchen in that cabin.
“Arthur! C’mon now!”
Come on now? What was he talking about? It was time to pull a uey, hit the siren and the lights, and zoom back to that cabin, pedal to the metal.
Instead Sheriff McKnight cut the engine and opened his door. “If you can’t zip it, you’re staying in the car.”
I zipped it.
We went up to the door. It opened before we got there and Edna looked out. How small she looked, especially standing next to Sheriff McKnight! She blinked once or twice, her eyes maybe a little frightened.
“Edna Fricker,” the sheriff said.
“Yes?”
“My name’s McKnight. I’m the new sheriff.”
“I heard there was a new sheriff,” Edna said.
“That’s me.”
“The county hasn’t had much luck when it comes to sheriffs,” Edna said. “If you don’t mind some straight talk from a tax-paying citizen.”
“Not at all,” the sheriff said. “I want to hear it, from you and everyone that lives in this valley. Right now, I’d like your help in the matter of the two cats, Princess and Queenie.”
“Queenie hasn’t turned up yet?” Edna said.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Oh, dear.” She noticed me. Some humans notice me first thing, some never, and some in
between. Edna turned out to be an in-betweener. “Is this your K-9 partner?” she said. “He looks so much like the Reddys’ dog.”
“Arthur is the Reddys’ dog,” the sheriff said. “He’s been pressed into service as my K-9 partner for now.”
K-9 partner? That was me? That was me! What a roll I was on! Was it time to get busy and start arresting people? Any reason not to begin with Edna? She was right here, after all, easy pickins. I awaited the go signal from my law enforcement partner. We were going to enforce the law like it had never been enforced before.
Meanwhile there’d been some back and forth that I’d missed and now we were in Edna’s kitchen and Edna was pouring iced tea into two tall glasses. There was only one door to the kitchen. I plunked myself square in the doorway, sitting up tall. Anyone wanting in or out had to go through ol’ Arthur. Want to try me, Edna? Huh? Huh? Huh?
They drank tea and talked about all sorts of stuff I’d heard before. The beauty contest, Pamela Vance, Cuthbert the clown, now missing. Whoa! Cuthbert was missing? Had I already known that? It sounded important. Now that I was in law enforcement, I should probably pay attention when folks went missing. And I was just about to pay attention—pay attention and big-time!—when I noticed Princess curled up on what looked like a very comfy down pillow in the corner. Duck down, by the way—anything ducky being one of the easiest smells out there. At the same time I saw her she saw me.
We gazed at each other. I sent one single and very clear message. Princess, you’re now looking at a law enforcement officer. Mess with me and you’re toast. I felt huge inside, huge and getting huger.
Princess rose, no doubt pretty intimidated by my stare. Now she was about to go slink away and hide behind the fridge or the stove. I realized that I was going to have to get used to lots of slinkers from now on, slinkers slinking away from Deputy Arthur.
Princess stretched in a slinky way and headed for the … Except she didn’t head for the fridge or the stove, instead made her way over to me. Was she planning to make a run for it? Good luck with that, my little catty outlaw. Any idea what’s going to happen to you if you even try? I was still thinking of terrible things that would happen to her when she circled around and sort of backed into the space between my front paws, wriggling around a bit to make herself comfortable.
Bark vs. Snark Page 15
