Doggone Christmas: A Polly Parrett Pet-Sitter Cozy Murder Mystery (Polly Parrett Pet-Sitter Cozy Murder Mysteries Book 1)

by Liz Dodwell

  “Rooney had to do something quickly but knew he’d attract attention if he fired his gun. So he picked up a brick and smashed Hardwicke’s head, then heaved him into the dumpster, hoping the body wouldn’t be found for at least a few days.

  “That’s when Rooster came along. He had no idea what had happened – though apparently Elaine knew something. Anyway, the last thing Rooney needed was someone opening the dumpster where he’d just hidden the body.”

  “So he had to come up with an excuse to get Rooster out of the way,” I injected.

  “Exactly. Luckily for Rooster, you and Breslin showed up.”

  It was a case of being in the right place at the right time.

  Eighteen

  I was in hospital for a total of three days. Dad had arrived and spent his time between the hospital room and my place, taking over pet-care duties there. I was really happy to see my parents getting along. Perhaps Mom had finally put her angst behind her.

  There was a steady stream of visitors. Both my brothers turned up, my crew members stopped in to reassure me that all was well, Suzette popped in a couple of times and Tyler came to see me. I found myself feeling awkward and shy around him; I didn’t know what to say. Happily, Mom filled the gap and showered him with gratitude to the point that he appeared awkward and shy.

  When I was discharged it was with a lot of painkillers and instructions to take it easy. Not too bad for someone who was nearly killed.

  It was decided – not by me – that I would stay with Mom until I was completely healed. That was sort of like the blind leading the blind under the circumstances, but I acquiesced and my four-pawed gang and I made the move. Dad stayed for a few more days, using my house as his base, and ran errands and fussed over both of us. It was nice.

  The best thing that happened was Rooster’s release. While I was still hospitalized he was freed and joined his beloved Elaine at Tyler’s home. I wished I’d been there to see the reunion. On the second day at Mom’s Tyler brought them out for a visit. It was very emotional. We all shed a few tears, Rooster most of all, thanking us for caring for a ‘worthless stranger’ and his old dog.

  When things calmed down, Mom and I headed to the kitchen to make tea. Dad had the presence of mind to buy a good bottle of sherry, so we added that to the mix.

  “You know what struck me?” Mom said. “Rooster referring to himself as worthless. It’s so sad he should feel that way. He’s obviously a good person.”

  “Perhaps we can find a way to help,” I said. “I remember Tyler told me the VA had offered to do what they could and I’m sure that hasn’t changed. Rooster is a proud man, though. He won’t accept anything if he thinks it’s charity.”

  I set a plate of gingerbread cookies and brandy-soaked Christmas cake on Mom’s lap and followed her with the tea and sherry as she wheeled her way back to the living room. We were all chatting when the heat came on with its usual squealing and sputtering. Mom gave her usual apology, “It’s been that way for years.”

  “I can probably fix it for you,” Rooster said.

  Dad immediately told him not to worry about it, but Mom and I looked at each other, then Mom turned to Rooster and asked, “How are you at house painting?”

  Nineteen

  Christmas Day

  It had snowed heavily overnight. I looked through the window and it seemed as if our house had been wrapped in silvery white paper, like a present under the tree. Inside was the gift of warm Christmas colors, a cheerful fire, the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and pine from the freshly cut garlands; all mixed with a generous amount of laughter and love.

  My brothers had arrived a couple of days earlier. Keene’s wife, Megan was with him of course, and Seb had brought a girlfriend. There was no doubt the relationship was serious and I took to Ellie right away.

  The guys strung the house with lights of red, blue and green. They’d found the perfect tree, which had been decked with the old ornaments I’d found in the attic. To be clear, I should say the upper part of the tree had been decorated. Bright, shiny objects are wonderful, but potentially dangerous toys to kitties and pooches. It looked a bit odd, I suppose, but to us it was still beautiful.

  Rooster was with us too, and Elaine, of course. Since Rooster had fixed the heating, he’d started painting and doing other odd jobs for Mom. Rather than drive him back and forth from Tyler’s, Mom had suggested he stay in one of the spare rooms. It was working out great. Not only was stuff getting taken care of, it was a real boost to Rooster’s sense of self-worth and Mom was enjoying the company.

  We’d put presents under the tree for Rooster and his faithful companion. Not surprisingly, Rooster got teary-eyed when he pulled out the aran sweater we’d got for him and read the card packaged with it: ‘Friends are the family you choose. Welcome to our family.’

  Elaine didn’t know what to make of her gift. My dogs have as much fun ripping the paper off the packages as they do with their new toys. So Rooster pulled the paper apart to reveal a big beef-flavored chewie, which Elaine took very gently while her tail waved energetically.

  What a perfect Christmas this was. Well, almost. As I looked around the room at Keene and Megan, Seb and Ellie, Mom and Rooster, a wave of loneliness swept over me. Try as I might to put Tyler from my mind, I couldn’t help but wish there was something more to our relationship. He’d been invited to join us but declined, saying his family always spent Christmas at their timeshare in Bermuda.

  “Polly,” Mom called. “Give me a hand in the kitchen while the others set the table.”

  Dutifully, I headed for the kitchen. Megan and Ellie joined us and we pulled the turkey from the oven, popped the sweet potato casserole under the grill to brown the marshmallows, stirred the homemade cranberry sauce and drizzled a little more olive oil over the roast asparagus. When everything was ready we carried it into the dining room. By the time we were finished the table looked magnificent and the smells had me drooling almost as much as the dogs.

  “There’s one too many settings,” I pointed out.

  “I don’t think so,” Mom said.

  “There are seven of us and we have eight settings. I’ll clear it.”

  “No, dear. We’re going to need it.”

  At that very moment the dogs jumped up in unison and dashed to the door as the bell chimed.

  “Why don’t you get that, Polly?”

  Everyone was looking at me as if they knew something I didn’t. I hate that. Hesitantly, I went to the door.

  “Enough!” I said to silence the dogs. “Back!” I pointed to their blanket and obediently they moved back and stood there. “Stay!”

  I opened the door and the dogs launched themselves at the man standing there. He might have been able to keep his footing if the porch had been shoveled and salted, but it hadn’t. Instead it was slick as an ice-rink. The man’s legs went out from under him and down he went, the bag he’d had in hand emptying its contents of prettily packed boxes into the snow.

  “Tyler!”

  The dogs were happily dishing big wet kisses on his face and plopping wet paws over his Arcteryx jacket.

  “Off,” I shrieked, “Off,” trying to pull Angel away and lift Coco into my arms. Instead, my feet went in all directions and I fell onto my back next to Tyler. Mortified, I turned my face to his. For several seconds we looked at each other, then he burst into laughter. Before I knew it, I was laughing with him.

  Together we hauled ourselves up and gathered the gifts.

  “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Bermuda.”

  “There was something I really wanted to bring you.”

  From his pocket he drew a slightly crushed sprig of mistletoe. Holding it up high he pulled me to him with his free arm and kissed me. A real kiss. Merry Christmas to me.

  You’re probably thinking that’s the end. Well, it’s not. After we’d settled ourselves around the table Mom chinked her glass and announced, “Before we eat, I have something to say.

  “More
than bringing the Christmas holiday back to this house, you’ve brought the spirit. I’ve been reminded of how it feels to be part of a family and of the things you can accomplish together.

  “For the past couple of years I’ve been absorbed in a misery of my own making. That’s going to change. I want to get back to work and I want to do something that will benefit others.

  “Rooster and I have been talking.” We all glanced at him, wondering what was going on.

  “He tells me there are lots of homeless vets, with pets, who just want a chance to get back to a normal life. I want to give them that chance. I want to make this home a sort of half-way house for those people. I know it’s a huge undertaking, but Rooster has agreed to stay, and between us all I believe we can make this work.”

  There was a stunned silence.

  Seb, Keene and I began to object but Mom raised her hand. “I don’t want to hear anything negative. All of you, please, think on it and we can discuss it after the holidays. For now, let’s just make this the merriest of Christmases.”

  “I’ll second that,” Tyler said, raising his glass. “And I would be proud to help in any way.” He is the greatest guy.

  We all raised our glasses with him and chinked them together. “Merry Christmas,” everyone said, and lying in front of the fire Elaine gave us a doggy grin and thumped her tail loudly on the floor.

  The end

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  Author’s Notes

  Hi, dear readers. I hope you enjoyed reading about Polly and her family – including the furry kind – as much as I enjoyed writing about them. If so, please consider leaving a review wherever you purchased this book. As an independent author it’s not easy to compete out there, and your feedback will help me know what you like. I’d also love to get to know you on my facebook page:

  http://www.facebook.com/LizDodwellAuthor

  Join me there and tell me about your own pets or funny pet-sitting stories. I check there every day and answer all questions – honest!

  Now, to thank some people. First of all, you, my readers, without whom there would be no Polly Parrett. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your support.

  Much gratitude also to Dominic Ottaviano, my multi-tasking assistant; to Tracy Nowell, a truly lovely lady and invaluable helper; and my husband, Alex Markovich, as always, for constant support and faith in my abilities.

  Liz Dodwell devotes her time to writing and publishing from the home she shares with husband, Alex and a host of rescued dogs and cats, collectively known as “the kids.” She will tell you, “I gladly suffer the luxury of working from home where I’m with my “kids,” can toss in a load of laundry in between radio interviews, writing, editing, general office work or baking pupcakes (dog treats) while still in my PJs. I love what I do and know how lucky I am to be able to do it. Oh, and if you asked me what my hobbies are, I’d probably say reading murder mysteries, drinking champagne, romantic dinners with my husband and yodeling (just joking about that last one).”