The Case of the Faithful Frenchie

by B R Snow

  “Bad night?” I said.

  “Does it show?” Josie said, gently patting her face checking for signs of puffiness.

  “Only around the eyes,” I said. “What happened last night?”

  “Summerman and I had it out,” she said, tearing up. “We are officially done.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said, placing a hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Better I found out now,” she said, exhaling audibly. “I told him that no matter how good our three months together were, they didn’t come close to making up for the other nine when I wouldn’t have a clue where he was or what he was doing.”

  “What did he say?”

  “What could he say? It’s one of those things you always like to call a simple basic truth.”

  “Well, I’m sorry you’re going through this,” I said.

  “I can’t even really be mad at him. He was upfront about the situation the whole time. And if there is any good news coming out of this I guess it’s nice to know that I’m still capable of feeling like this.”

  “Like a bag of crap?” I deadpanned.

  “Funny,” she said. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do. When is Summerman leaving?”

  “The last day of summer,” Josie said. “I think it’s the 22nd.”

  I stared off into the distance deep in thought.

  “What?” she said.

  “It’s probably nothing. But didn’t Summerman say the exact same thing last year when you first met him at the Yacht Club? It was the last day of summer. We wanted to invite him to dinner, but he was adamant that he needed leave before it got dark.”

  “I remember. What about it?”

  “It just seems odd,” I said.

  “Let it go, Suzy. He’s just on a tight schedule. And I’m sure it’s being controlled by his buddies Doc and Merlin.”

  “Okay, if you say so, I’ll let it go.”

  “Well, how about that?” Josie said, watching the police car pull into the Inn’s parking lot. “Your new boss is here early.”

  “He’s not my boss, and I’ve asked you several times to stop calling him that,” I said, punching her on the shoulder.

  “Whatever you say, Detective Snoop,” she said, laughing.

  My new nickname around town. And I have Freddie to thank for it. But don’t worry, I’ll figure out a way to pay him back for bestowing me with the moniker that had officially stuck and was already becoming an irritant.

  “For the hundredth time, I’m not a detective, I’m a consultant,” I snapped.

  “Okay, okay,” Josie said, laughing. “Good morning, Chief.”

  “Hi, Josie,” Chief Abrams said. “Good morning, Detective Snoop.”

  “You too?” I said, shaking my head.

  “What can I say?” he said, laughing. “It just rolls off the tongue.”

  “Did you swing by just to bust my chops?” I said, holding up a hand to shield my eyes from the bright sun.

  “I wish,” he said, his good mood fading. “I got some bad news this morning, and I thought you’d want to hear it.”

  “What is it?” I said, sitting upright in my chair.

  “Buggy’s girlfriend. Claudine,” he said.

  “Oh, no,” I said. “What happened?”

  “She was found dead last night in some fleabag motel outside of Montreal,” Chief Abrams said.

  My eyes immediately began to water, and I stared down at the ground. Chloe noticed my discomfort and trotted over and nuzzled herself against my leg. I rubbed her head and then looked up at Chief Abrams.

  “What happened to her?”

  “The cops aren’t sure yet whether to call it a murder or suicide,” he said. “They called me after they found her meds in the room. The bottles all had the pharmacy’s address on them.”

  “Geez. She never really had much of a chance,” I said.

  “Probably not,” he said. “Life’s hard enough when you’re playing with a full deck. I can’t imagine trying to do it a few cards short.”

  “That poor woman,” Josie said.

  I glanced around the play area and spotted Otto, Claudine’s French bulldog, wrestling on the ground with Tiny. Otto was pinned on his back and snorting and kicking his legs as Tiny held him down with one of his massive paws.

  “At least Otto made it out, Suzy,” Josie said, smiling at the dogs.

  “Yeah, I guess that means something, right?”

  “It does,” she said. “And you know it.”

  I got up out of my chair and started heading for the back door.

  “Where are you going?” Josie said.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, then stopped and turned when I heard Chief Abrams call out to me.

  “Are we on for tomorrow?” he said.

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. “Caspian called last night and said they’re doing the reading of the will at two in Walter’s office.”

  “And she definitely wants both of us there?”

  “Indeed. She was very clear about that,” I said. “Were you able to track down the information we discussed the other day?”

  “I was,” Chief Abrams said, nodding and giving me a small smile.

  “And?”

  “And you were right. Well done, Suzy.”

  “It wasn’t all me. I had some help.”

  “Regardless, good job. Nice to see that you’re earning your money.”

  “Funny,” I said. “You missed your calling, Chief. You could have had quite the career in comedy.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll stick with the good guy, bad guy dramas. I need to run. Your mother wants to talk to me about the ongoing problem of people not cleaning up after their dogs at the park.”

  “You get all the fun jobs,” I said, laughing.

  “Your mother is talking about putting together a task force to work on the problem. You’d be perfect for it.”

  “Do it, and you’re a dead man,” I said.

  “Are you threatening the Chief of Police?” he said, grinning.

  “You bet I am,” I said, spreading my arms as I glanced around the play area. “And in case you haven’t noticed, we have more than enough cleanup work around here.”

  “I know. And that’s just the sort of dedicated experience we need on the task force.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  I was dead serious about the task force. Not because of the issue it was going to be dealing with. It was the thought of spending hours in mind-numbing meetings that was the source of my resistance.

  “Okay. How about you, Josie?” he said.

  “Not a chance,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Tough crowd,” Chief Abrams said, laughing. “Okay, I’ll tell your mother you’re both a solid no. You do know what that means, don’t you?”

  “That she’ll be coming over here to nag us about it constantly until one of us gives in?” I said.

  “I probably wouldn’t use the word nag,” he said.

  “That’s because you work for her,” I said, laughing.

  “Yeah. Don’t tell anybody, but sometimes she scares the you know what out of me,” he said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Okay, I’m off. I’ll meet you tomorrow outside Walter’s office just before two,” he said, glancing up at the bright blue sky. “Beautiful day for a boat ride.”

  “Now, there’s an idea,” Josie said. “And it’s Chef Claire’s day off. What do you say?”

  “A picnic with the dogs?” I said, smiling. “Sounds great. Lake of the Isles?”

  “I’m thinking Potter’s Beach,” Josie said.

  “Oh, good call.”

  Potters Beach is one of the only natural sand beaches in the Thousand Islands, and it’s a very popular spot during the summer for boaters and partygoers, both young and old. It’s located on Grindstone Island, one of the largest in the area and close to half of the island is protected by the Thousand Islands Land Trust, a group responsible for conversat
ion of the island’s natural habitat and species. It’s a beautiful spot, and if we were right, we’d probably be the only people there today.

  As soon as Josie and I finished our to-do list around lunchtime, we changed into our most comfortable summer outfits, slathered on sunscreen, then headed for our dock carrying a large picnic basket and a cooler. By the time we reached the boat, Captain and Chloe were already sitting on the padded bench seat that ran the length of the transom and giving us a look that said let’s get this show on the road. Chef Claire reached the dock and waved, then her two Golden Retrievers, Al and Dente, spotted Captain and Chloe in the boat and made a beeline down the dock. They jumped from the dock into the boat, then hopped up and took their spot in between Captain and Chloe.

  I couldn’t resist how cute they looked and snapped several photos. Josie shook her head as she watched me.

  “Just look at that,” I said, showing her one of the photos.

  “Got it,” she said. “Let’s go. The day’s wasting away.”

  Chef Claire and I climbed aboard while Josie handled the lines. I started the engine and slowly headed for the main channel. As predicted, all was quiet on the River.

  “What did you bring?” Josie said to Chef Claire as she began rummaging through the picnic basket.

  “Sandwiches, pasta salad, and a few other goodies,” Chef Claire said. “Now get out of there.”

  “You’re no fun,” Josie said.

  She closed the lid and looked at the dogs. They had their eyes closed, and their tongues were hanging out of their mouths as the breeze washed over them.

  “They sure do love being out here,” Josie said. “But I think Al is still mad at me.”

  “Well, you did just remove his testicles a couple of weeks ago,” Chef Claire said. “Don’t worry, he’ll get over it.”

  “I also spayed Dente. But she’s forgiven me,” Josie said.

  “Dente can’t stay mad at anybody,” Chef Claire said. “Can you, girl?”

  The dog opened an eye, gave Chef Claire one thump of her tail, then drifted off again.

  We reached the inlet that led to the beach, and I slowed down. We were the only boat in sight, and about two hundred feet from shore, Josie and Chef Claire fired tennis balls into the water, and all four dogs launched themselves into the water. Just before we reached the shore, I turned the engine off and raised the lower unit of the motor. Josie and I hopped into the warm water and pulled the boat forward until it touched the sandy bottom. All three of us threw tennis balls until our arms hurt and the dogs were worn out. We spread blankets out on the sand, but before we could sit down, the dogs decided it was the perfect spot to shake. Then they proceeded to roll on the blankets until they were a wet, sandy mess.

  “It probably wasn’t a good idea to spread them out before the dogs got out of the water, huh?” Josie deadpanned.

  “Yeah. You’d think we’d know better by now,” I said.

  Then I saw another boat approaching and waved when I recognized Jackson. His Bulldog, Sluggo, was perched in the seat next to him. We helped him with the boat, and Josie lifted Sluggo and set him down on the sand where he immediately was greeted by his four buddies. Soon, all five dogs were racing up and down the beach playing what looked like a game of tag.

  Jackson hopped into the water and waded to shore.

  “Good afternoon, Chef Claire. Josie,” he said, then looked at me. “Detective Snoop.”

  I flinched but let it go without comment.

  “You managed to get away from the store?” Josie said.

  “Yeah, I needed a break from bib lettuce and the wholesale price of tomatoes,” he said.

  “How are you enjoying civilian life?” I said.

  “In all honesty, I love it,” he said, nodding. “I never paid attention to how organized my father was. The place runs almost runs itself. Which I guess makes sense since he did it for over thirty years. And as long as I stay on top of things, it’s pretty stress-free. Not a bad way to spend the day.”

  “You don’t miss being a cop?” Josie said.

  “Occasionally I’ll get a twinge. But after hearing what happened to Buggy’s girlfriend, I realized I’m not really missing it one bit.”

  We fell silent, and I blinked back tears and sought solace by watching the dogs frolic on the sand. As I saw how happy they were at the moment, I again found myself wondering if their short life spans, while being relatively free from the pain and suffering most humans dealt with on a regular basis, was a fair tradeoff.

  Chapter 19

  We had an unusually high number of boarders arriving for the weekend, and I was helping out at reception when I heard my mother’s car pull into the parking lot. Through the picture window, I watched her climb out of her latest vehicle, some European monstrosity that was way too fast for her, and she waved at a family that was here to drop off their two Labs. My mother held the door open for them then followed them inside. I gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, and she followed me into my office where Josie was trying to figure out the new packaging on a bag of cookies.

  “Hey, Mrs. C.,” Josie said, straining as she worked on a corner of the bag.

  “Good morning, Josie,” my mother said, laughing as she watched Josie’s struggle. “I think the bag is winning, dear.”

  “It has to be a conspiracy,” Josie said, grabbing a pair of scissors. “By the time you’re able to get them open, you’ve worked up such an appetite you end up eating the whole bag.”

  My mother sat down across the desk from me and gave me the evil eye. I tried to cut her off at the pass.

  “Mom, I’m sorry, but I’m not serving on any task force,” I said.

  “Me neither,” Josie said, sighing as she finally got her hand into the bag of cookies.

  “I see,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

  I knew she was mad, but she let it go for the moment.

  “Darling, why are you and Chief Abrams attending the reading of the Winters family will this afternoon?”

  “Caspian asked us if we would come,” I said, casually. “You know, moral support, a couple of extra witnesses.”

  “Whatever you say, darling,” my mother said, shaking her head. “I hope you’re not taking this police thing too seriously. The last thing I want is to see you get shot.”

  “Don’t be dramatic, Mom,” I said. “Nobody is going to get shot. Besides, we’re going to be in Walter’s office. The worst thing that could happen is somebody gets a paper cut or dies of boredom.”

  “Does your being there have anything to do with who killed Buggy and robbed the bank?”

  “Yeah, it might,” I said. “But don’t worry, Mom. Chief Abrams has already called some of his buddies at the state police, and they’re going to have a couple cars outside Walter’s place just in case one of the Winters does anything stupid.”

  “You gotta like the chances of that happening,” my mother said.

  “That’s why the state police are going to be there, Mom,” I snapped.

  “Don’t get snarky with me, young lady.”

  I got a young lady out of her. I couldn’t resist a small smile.

  “And wipe that smirk off your face,” she said, getting up out of her chair. “This isn’t over.”

  “Geez, Mom, let it go,” I said. “It’s just some stupid committee you don’t even need to set up in the first place. If you’re serious about the problem, just threaten to increase the fine to a couple hundred bucks. And promise Mrs. Smith you’ll give her ten bucks for every tip she calls in.”

  Mrs. Smith was an elderly widow whose house overlooked the park. And she spent her days alternating between watching her shows and keeping an eye on what was happening at the park through a pair of high-powered binoculars. Because of our shared interest in snooping, unlike her relationship with some other residents, we got along well.

  “I know how to solve the problem, darling,” she said. “It’s just that…”

  “I don’t believe it,” I
said, staring at her. “You’re trying to set me up with somebody aren’t you?”

  “Relax,” she said, folding her arms as she leaned against the doorway. “He’s a gorgeous young teacher who just moved here. A French teacher, darling. He’s interested in meeting some more people, and he’s agreed to serve on the task force.”

  “Good for him,” I said. “If you’re so interested in me meeting him, bring him by the restaurant sometime.”

  “I think her new title has gone to her head,” my mother said to Josie.

  “Yeah, sudden celebrity status and all that,” Josie deadpanned. “You know how that goes.”

  “Yes, it’s tragic,” my mother said, waving goodbye. “Later, ladies.”

  We watched her leave then I looked at Josie.

  “Why do you feel the need to encourage her?” I said.

  “Force of habit,” she said. “What time is Barb getting here?”

  “It should be soon,” I said, glancing up at the wall clock. “I hope this works.”

  “I think it will,” Josie said. “And it’s one of your better ideas of late.”

  “Thanks. How are you doing today?”

  “A bit better,” she said, following me out the door and back into the reception area.

  I waved to Barb and her daughter Gwen who still had designs on adopting Tiny, our massive Great Dane.

  “Happy birthday, Gwen,” I said, kneeling down to give her a hug.

  “Thanks, Suzy. I’m seven,” she said, proudly.

  “I know. And you’re getting a dog for your birthday. That’s pretty special.”

  “Uh, huh,” Gwen said. “I can’t wait to see Tiny.”

  “This better work,” Barb whispered to Josie through clenched teeth.

  “It should,” Josie whispered back.

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Buy a bigger bed,” Josie deadpanned. “Tiny takes up a lot of room.”

  “You’re not funny, Josie,” Barb said, frowning.

  “Disagree.”

  “You know, Gwen,” I said. “Before we go say hi to Tiny, I was wondering if you could help us out. We have a very sad dog that needs cheering up, and Josie and I just can’t seem to do it by ourselves. His name is Otto.”