The Case of the Faithful Frenchie

by B R Snow

  “Yes,” Alexandra said, reaching behind her to give both of her Goldens a quick pet. “I’m riding the coattails of their fame. I never made the connection either. When I sold Al and Dente - love the names - to your two friends, I should have put two and two together.”

  “I’m confused,” Chef Claire said.

  “Alexandra and her husband run Vincent Farms. They’re the top Golden breeder in the Northeast, if not the entire country.”

  “Oh, we’re not quite that famous,” Alexandra said, obviously pleased by my compliment. “Would you mind if we said hello?”

  “Of course not,” Chef Claire said.

  Alexandra hopped out of the SUV and opened the back door. Both dogs jumped effortlessly from the car to the street and trotted toward Al and Dente to get reacquainted. I watched the dogs nuzzle each other then looked at Alexandra who was staring at the dogs with enormous pride.

  “Look at that,” she said, tearing up. “I don’t get a chance to see this sort of reunion very often. They all recognize each other. And they look magnificent. You’re obviously doing a great job raising them.”

  “Thank you,” Chef Claire said.

  “The two gentlemen who bought them from us both said their puppy was a birthday present,” she said. “You were given both dogs?”

  “I was.”

  “What a wonderful surprise that must have been,” she said, continuing to watch the dogs.

  “Surprise is a word for it,” Chef Claire said, laughing. “But they’re certainly wonderful.”

  “What are you doing here, Alexandra?” I said.

  “At the moment, I’m looking for something I can cook for dinner.”

  “No, I meant what are you doing in Clay Bay? Are you here for Thanksgiving?”

  “Well, I will be here for Thanksgiving, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m in town to judge the Dog Show.”

  “Of course,” I said, nodding. “In addition to being a breeder, you’re also one of the top judges in the country.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, again pleased by the compliment. “But since my husband is traveling at the moment, and my children won’t be coming home until Christmas, the thought of spending Thanksgiving by myself wasn’t very appealing. And while I usually take this time of year off to enjoy the holidays, your mayor personally called and invited me to judge your show. At first, I declined, but I eventually accepted. I must say that your mayor is a difficult woman to say no to.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said, laughing. “The mayor is my mother.”

  Alexandra stared into the distance deep in thought, then looked at me.

  “Chandler? Of course,” she said. “You’re Suzy Chandler. The Thousand Islands Doggy Inn, right?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “I just read an article about you and your business partner,” she said, nodding. “You’re doing some amazing work. My, my, what a small world.”

  “Indeed. You’re in town all by yourself?” I said.

  “I am. I know the show doesn’t start until Saturday, but I haven’t been up here in years so I thought I’d come in a couple of days early and get organized,” she said, kneeling down to pet Al and Dente. “But I’m never alone as long as I have Lucky and Lucy with me. And I rarely go anywhere without them.”

  “Then you can stop worrying about cooking dinner,” I said. “You’re going to have dinner with us.”

  “Absolutely,” Chef Claire said. “And you’re more than welcome to have Thanksgiving dinner with us as well. As long as you don’t mind eating with about a hundred other people.”

  “A hundred?” Alexandra said.

  “Long story,” I said. “We recently opened a restaurant, and we’ve decided to start a new annual tradition of serving Thanksgiving dinner to folks who aren’t able to or aren’t planning on cooking. You know, some of our elderly residents and shut-ins, primarily. But everyone is welcome.”

  “What a wonderful thing to do,” Alexandra said.

  “Actually, it was my mother’s idea.”

  “And she is very difficult to say no to, right?”

  “Indeed,” I said, laughing. “But we didn’t put up much of a fight. It should be fun.”

  “Well, count me in,” Alexandra said.

  “Speaking of which, there are a hundred loaves of bread inside with my name on them,” Chef Claire said.

  “Of course,” Alexandra said. “I’ll go in with you. I need to pick up a few other things.”

  She opened the back door of her SUV and whistled softly. Both her dogs trotted toward her and hopped effortlessly into the back seat. She closed the door, and their heads once again appeared in the opening.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, reaching through the open window to pet them. “You be good.”

  “They’re beautiful dogs,” I said, staring at the two Goldens.

  “Yes, they are,” she said, beaming at them. “And I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

  All three of us headed inside the store, and we left Alexandra in the snack food aisle while we headed for the back of the store. We found Jackson near the loading dock. He had his back to us and was comparing several stacks of boxes and crates to an order slip he was holding.

  “Four, five, six,” he said, counting out loud.

  “Seven, eight, eleven,” I said, counting along with him.

  Jackson turned and gave me a small smile.

  “Funny. Hi, Chef Claire. Your bread just came in. One hundred loaves. That’s a lot of stuffing. I assume that means Josie has confirmed.”

  Chef Claire and I both laughed.

  “Are you coming to dinner?” I said.

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” he said. “I already signed up to help out in the kitchen.”

  “That’s great,” Chef Claire said. “Thanks for doing that, Jackson.”

  “No problem. It’ll be fun. And it’ll be a nice break from counting tomatoes.”

  “You’re mom and dad aren’t coming in?” I said, doing my best to gently broach the subject of his parents’ recent divorce.

  Jackson frowned and sadness appeared in his eyes. Then it faded, and he shrugged.

  “No, my mom is spending Thanksgiving in Spain with some ex-pats she met over there. And my dad decided to stay in Florida. He said the warm weather is agreeing with him. But I don’t think he wants to deal with the memories.”

  “Sure, I guess I get that,” I said, softly.

  “Let me go get your bread,” he said, wandering off.

  “Divorce parents after forty years of marriage. That must be brutal to deal with,” Chef Claire said.

  “Yeah, I’m sure it is,” I said, glancing around the loading area. “But running a grocery store this size must help keep his mind off it.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Chef Claire said, grabbing the buzzing phone from her coat pocket. “What the heck?”

  “What is it?”

  “The GPS tracker just went off. Al and Dente are on the move.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said, breaking into a run to keep up with Chef Claire who was racing toward the front door.

  We exited the store and stopped at the hitching post outside the door. Both dogs were gone, and Chef Claire looked around in all directions, wide-eyed and panicked.

  “Al! Dente!” she called, glancing back and forth between her phone and the street. “It says they’re already two miles away. How can that be?”

  “What on earth is wrong?” Alexandra said, hurrying toward us. “You both flew by me inside the store.”

  “Al and Dente are gone,” I said, glancing up and down the empty street.

  “What?”

  “They’re almost out of range,” Chef Claire said, tears streaming down her face.

  “That means they’re in a car,” I said, reaching into my pocket for my phone. I placed the call and waited. “Chief. Suzy. No, not so good at the moment. Somebody just stole Chef Claire’s dogs from in front of Jackson’s pl
ace. Yeah, I know. We just put new GPS trackers on them that have five miles of coverage, and they’re almost out of range. Let me ask her.” I looked at Chef Claire. “What direction were they headed?”

  “Southeast. That must be Route 3, right?”

  “Sounds right,” I said, then spoke into the phone. “Route 3. No, we didn’t get a look at the vehicle. We were inside the store. Okay, yeah. We’ll do that.”

  I ended the call and put my phone away. I looked at Chef Claire who was still staring down at her phone.

  “Chief Abrams said we should head home and he’ll meet us there,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  Chef Claire started sobbing, but nodded and began heading toward the town dock. I looked at Alexandra who was standing next to her SUV stroking her dogs’ heads through the window.

  “Somebody stole your dogs? Who could do something like that?” she said, tearing up.

  “Someone despicable,” I said. “And someone who’s going to be in a world of hurt when we find them.”

  “If only you two could speak,” she said, glancing at her dogs, then turning back to me. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “But you should still stop by later. We usually eat around seven. I’m not sure if we’ll be there, but someone will.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And bring Lucky and Lucy. If there’s a dognapper running around, you’ll want to keep a close eye on them.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll see you this evening,” Alexandra said, climbing into the driver seat.

  “I sure hope so.”

  I waved goodbye to her and broke into a run to catch up with Chef Claire. I wasn’t much of a runner, but it was the best I could do. By the time I reached the dock, Chef Claire had already started the boat and untied the lines. I climbed in, and she roared toward home before my feet landed on deck.