Silent Night: A Raine Stockton Dog Mystery

by Donna Ball

  Cisco watched intently as I transferred another pancake from the platter to my plate and drizzled it with syrup. “They just had a bath at the vet’s,” I reminded her. “And it’s pretty cold to be running around with damp fur.”

  “You’ve got a lot of blow driers.”

  “That’s true, but remember the little one is still on antibiotics. We don’t want to take a chance with her getting sick again.”

  She chewed silently, obviously reconsidering. “Maybe we’ll just brush them and put bows on them.”

  Bows on puppies hardly ever work, for obvious reasons. But it’s the thought that counts, and I didn’t want to take the fun out of it for Melanie. “I have a grooming spray that will make their fur shiny,” I offered. “All you have to do is spray it on while you’re brushing them. And it smells good, too.”

  Melanie gulped down the rest of her orange juice. “I’d better get started. I want to take a picture of them and send it to my dad.”

  I set Melanie up with a soft-bristle brush, some grooming spray, and yes, a spool of red ribbon, and while she concentrated on her task I cleaned the kitchen and checked my e-mail. There were a couple of training questions from former clients, some advertisements from local merchants disguised as Happy Holidays messages, and the few pieces of spam that always managed to get through the filters. Aunt Mart had e-mailed me the photos from the parade and the Christmas party, and I took a minute to scroll through them.

  The first photograph that came up was the family photo of Aunt Mart, Uncle Roe, Buck and me, and I spent much too long looking at it with a sad, hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. Then, with a surge of impatience that was directed mostly toward myself—I was not going to let Buck ruin a perfectly good morning, after all—I clicked back through until I reached the photographs of the Christmas parade. There must have been a dozen pictures of Majesty, and if ever I had doubts about whether I had done the right thing by letting my girl go, moments like this dispelled them. There was Majesty posing with Aunt Mart, Majesty posing with an unknown number of children, Majesty in front of the sheep trailer, Majesty getting her hair done, Majesty doing her “Lassie wave” for the camera with the Nativity scene in the background, Majesty with her twinkle lights on, Majesty waving to the camera with the Christmas tree in the background… I backed up a couple of shots, frowning as I looked more closely and then got cautiously excited. It was hard to tell, but I was almost certain that the hunched-over, downtrodden figure in the background was Ashleigh Lewis.

  She had a duffle bag over her shoulder and held it protectively against her body, and the more I looked at it, the more I became convinced the picture was of Ashleigh, and it must have been taken shortly after she had hitched a ride into town with Camo Man. The ladders were still up around the Christmas tree, and there was enough light to shoot without a flash, so I guessed it had to have been close to five o’clock in the afternoon. She had never given any explanation at all for why she had left the safety of her hideout to go downtown on Friday afternoon. What kind of girl runs away from home and then goes to watch the Christmas parade?

  I went through the remaining photographs more carefully, and a couple of shots later—because one can never have too many photographs of Majesty preening for the camera—I spotted Ashleigh again, almost out of frame but definitely the same girl. There was something different about her this time, though. Where was the duffel bag? Even in a town this isolated from most of the ugliness of the outside world, an abandoned duffel bag at a crowded event would not have gone unnoticed, so I didn’t think she could have simply left it behind. She must have given it to someone. But to whom? And why?

  The phone rang, and I called out, “Melanie, will you get that? It’s probably your dad.”

  I didn’t have time to analyze the photos again this morning, so I opened up a new window and, after a brief moment’s hesitation, addressed a message to Buck at the office. I wrote, Is that Ashleigh in the background? Then, for clarification, added, Aunt Mart’s Christmas parade photos.

  Melanie called, “It’s for you. Some estate person.”

  All three dogs raced through the house, barking excitedly, and I knew Maude must have arrived. I called back, “Tell him I’m not interested!”

  “Okay!”

  Quickly, I selected the two photographs to attach and hit Send. I hurried to the door. “Mischief, Magic, Cisco! Sit!” They sat, two tailless butts wriggling, one golden tail swishing, all three panting with excitement. I gave them a stern look. “What’s the matter with you? It’s just Maude.”

  I opened the door, and immediately saw what the matter with them was. Maude was not alone. She had a leash in her hand, and at the end of the leash was a white-faced golden retriever. I stared. “Is that the Lewis’s dog?”

  “It is,” she replied briskly, and stepped inside. The Golden accompanied her at a trot.

  Cisco stretched out his nose to sniff and the Aussies were one breath away from breaking their sits, so I gave them a sharp, “Ank!” as a reminder. I let Maude and the Golden get well inside, close the door, and then I told the girls, “Mischief, Magic, crate.” They darted across the room to their crates, which of course made me look like a super dog trainer. And if anyone wondered why I would keep two dogs who are borderline cat burglars, that's why. There is a definite upside to owning dogs who are at least as smart as you are.

  Maude said, “All things considered, I thought it might be best if I followed up on the spay proposal, rather than you. So I went over yesterday afternoon to talk to Alice Lewis about it—women are always more reasonable about these things than men, in my experience—and she surrendered the dog to rescue. As I hardly need tell you, her husband is in jail and her son just made bond and may yet be charged with murder, so she had quite enough to deal with."

  I stared at her. "They're going to charge Nick with Earl Lewis's death?"

  "Mrs. Lewis seemed to think so. I rather feel bad for taking advantage of the situation, frankly, but one must do what is necessary. We have a signed surrender form, and this fine young lady has an appointment with the vet for spaying this afternoon.”

  "Well, what do you know about that? It’s a Christmas miracle.” I reached down to pet the new arrival, and Cisco whined, politely reminding me he was still sitting. “Okay, Cisco, release.” He bounded onto all fours and wriggled his way over to greet the new dog.

  “Speaking of which...” Maude glanced around the newly decorated room while the two dogs completed their circling and sniffing routine. “The place looks nice. I’m glad to see you finally got the Christmas spirit.”

  “I had some help.” I glanced up to see Melanie standing at the threshold of the room with the female puppy in her arms, regarding Maude somewhat suspiciously. She had clipped a small red ribbon into the fur just above the puppy’s left ear, and I had to admit, it looked cute. I introduced her to Maude, and added, indicating the golden retriever, “This is the puppies’ mother. We’ll be finding a new home for her too.”

  “No kidding?” She brought the puppy over to the adult dog and set it on the floor. “Wouldn’t it be cool if they all went to a new home together?”

  I assured her that was very unlikely to happen, and while Melanie waited expectantly for some sign of recognition between mother and daughter and Cisco spun and play-bowed and practically begged someone to notice him for a change, Maude said, “I hope you don’t mind keeping her over the holidays. I know it’s a bit to ask with the kennel out of operation, but I’ll take over for you of course as soon as I get back.”

  “No problem,” I assured her. “I can use the company. It looks like no one is going to be in town this Christmas except me and the dogs. Come on, let’s get her set up in a crate while we do the puppy interviews. What’s her name, anyway?”

  “I believe they were calling her Lady.”

  “I don’t think Lady likes her daughter very much,” Melanie said and picked up the puppy resentfully. “She keeps pushing her away with her nose.”<
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  “Mother dogs are not like human mothers, young Miss,” Maude explained patiently. “Once a pup is weaned, they don’t feel it necessary to hover.”

  “Some human mothers I've met could take a lesson,” I observed.

  “That reminds me,” Maude said, “have you heard the news?”

  I led the way to the library, which had been temporarily pressed into service as a storage area for kennel equipment. “Which news?”

  “That poor baby that was abandoned in the manger was kidnapped. I heard it on the radio on the way over. Apparently it happened late last night or early this morning.”

  “You’re kidding! Do you think the mother changed her mind?” And then I remember Ruth Holloway standing outside the nursery only yesterday, and the look of rapture on her face. My spirits fell, and I turned to look at Maude. “Oh, no,” I said. “Ruth Holloway was the foster mom. Was the baby taken from her house? She must be devastated.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t speak to the details. I’m sure your aunt would know.”

  Of course by then I was remembering the other person who had been with Ruth Holloway yesterday, and I was starting to get a very bad feeling. Hadn’t Ruth told me Ashleigh was staying with her too?

  I pulled out a portable crate and thrust it at Maude. “I’ll help you set this up in a minute. I think I’d better call my aunt. “

  Aunt Mart confirmed that the baby had been taken from the Holloway’s home, and that Ashleigh, too, was missing. “It’s been all over that blessed police radio this morning,” she said. My uncle, even though he was retired, was unable to abandon his police scanner, and he kept it on at home almost around the clock. She sighed. “And it pains me to admit it, as much as I hate that thing, but I haven’t been able to stop listening. What an awful thing to happen. I thought I’d go over to the Holloways with a cake this afternoon, as soon as all the police clear out. I know the poor thing must be a wreck.”

  “I think she may have had hopes of adopting the baby,” I told Aunt Mart. “Do the police think Ashleigh did it, or are they looking at a double kidnapping?”

  “Who knows what they think? Every man on the force is looking for her, though, and that little baby, so I don’t imagine they’ll get far, one way or another. ”

  I wanted to talk more, but just then the doorbell rang, and our first prospective puppy parent arrived to a chorus of barking and yipping and the scurry of Melanie’s very self-important footsteps across the room. It was a relief to put aside the remnants of kidnapping and murder for the happy mayhem of the hours that followed as a parade of prospective puppy owners lined up to ooh and ahh over the three shined, brushed and beribboned pups.

  Adopting a dog from Golden Rescue is not a simple matter, nor is it with any reputable rescue group. We do a thorough interview over the phone, and if we can’t verify the residence through references, we do a home visit. We keep a detailed application on file and require every adopter to sign a contract that specifies how the dog will be cared for, when he or she will be altered, and that he will be returned to us if the family finds itself no longer able to care for the dog. Our adoption fee barely covers the cost of first shots and the spay/neuter, but it’s significant enough to make certain that new owners understand the value of their pet. We do follow-up visits and check with the veterinarian on record to make certain the spay or neuter surgery was performed on schedule. If it wasn’t, we have the legal right to reclaim the dog. In other words, people who come to us for a dog understand in short order that this is a very serious matter. And in this case, they not only had to deal with Maude and me, but with Melanie as well.

  Two people did not keep their appointments, one grew skittish when we showed him the contract, and another couple accidentally let slip what they had failed to reveal on the phone—that they intended the puppy as a gift for their three-year-old granddaughter, which was against our policy on several levels. Melanie grilled the remaining candidates as though they were applying for a government security clearance. Where would the puppy sleep? How close was the nearest pet store? What plans had they made for its education? Who would walk the puppy while they were at work? Did they own or rent? What did they plan to do with the puppy when they went on vacation? Maude and I had to smother smiles behind our hands as she marched each puppy into the room as though it were strutting down a runway, demonstrating its various talents and making certain to point out the weaknesses as well. For the most part, Maude and I merely supervised, and at one point Maude murmured to me, only half joking, “You really should hire that girl.” For some reason, that made me proud.

  Not surprisingly, most people gravitated toward the playful, husky males, and after protracted conferences, we agreed on good matches for both of the boys and sent them on their way. Melanie, of course, found room for improvement in both placements, but reluctantly agreed when we assured her our follow-up policy was uncompromising. As an unexpected bonus, the couple who was visiting from Asheville fell completely in love with the quiet, well-mannered Lady, completed the adoption form on the spot, and arranged to pick her up from the vet after her spay surgery was complete. But no one was interested in the female puppy.

  “I don’t get it,” Melanie said with a frown when everyone was gone. “She’s the best one. Why didn’t anybody want her?”

  “Well, a lot of people think female dogs are more trouble than males,” I told her. “And she is kind of shy. Besides, she’s still on medication, and maybe they didn’t want to take a chance with a sick puppy.”

  “She’s not sick.” Melanie sounded defensive. “She’s practically well. People are stupid.”

  “Sometimes,” I agreed, “they are.”

  Melanie brightened. “Well, at least you get to keep her, right? She can be one of your dogs, and I’ll come visit her.”

  I heard Maude chuckle at that, and I shook my head. “That’s not the way it works, Melanie. My job is to find a home for her. I can’t keep her.”

  “What happens if you don’t?”

  Maude said, “We work with rescue groups all over the South. We always find homes for our dogs.”

  Melanie looked distressed as she repeated, “All over the South?”

  I said, “Don’t worry, a puppy as cute as this will find her perfect home in no time. We’ll put her picture on the internet and offers will come pouring in.”

  She didn’t look very reassured as she picked up the puppy and carried it back to the now-empty ex-pen. “Even her mother’s gone,” she said sadly. The expression on her face as she gazed down at the puppy made me wonder how much she had guessed about what was going on between her own parents.

  I tried to sound cheerful. “Come on, Melanie, get your things together while I call your dad. I know he’s anxious to see you, and he’s been so patient about letting you stay all morning.”

  She placed the puppy on the fleece mat and knelt down beside her, petting her. “It’s no fun being the one nobody wants, is it?” she said softly. “Try not to get too lonely.”

  Maude and I exchanged a look that was sympathetic on her part, helpless on mine. I wanted to hug Melanie, but I didn’t know whether she would welcome it, so I said instead, perhaps a touch too brightly, “Don’t you worry about that. She’s got a house full of dogs to play with, remember? Now let’s leave her alone for her nap. I’m sure your dad will let you come play with her later.”

  Melanie latched the door of the ex-pen, but her step wasn’t very lively as she went upstairs to get her things.

  “It occurs to me,” Maude murmured when Melanie was out of earshot, “that an ice cream treat wouldn’t be inappropriate at the moment. It always used to cheer me up when I was a girl. Why don’t you take her downtown to lunch?”

  “That’s a good idea,” I said. The thought flitted across my mind that this would also give me a chance to stop by the sheriff’s office—briefly, of course—and see what I could find out about the missing Ashleigh. “We’ll have lunch at the drugstore counter. That’s alway
s fun and they’ve been advertising frozen hot chocolate from now until Christmas. I’ll see if Miles feels like meeting us there. Do you want to come?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve a full schedule of packing and shopping this afternoon. What do you suppose would be an appropriate bridal gift for a couple in their forties who’ve been living together for five years and who own a hotel?”

  “Money,” I assured her and picked up the phone to call Miles.

  His phone went to voice mail, so I left a message. “Hey, it’s me. I guess you’re taking a nap. Melanie’s feeling a little down after giving the puppies away so I thought I’d take her into town for lunch if it’s okay. I was going to ask if you wanted to meet us at the drugstore but you probably need to rest. Anyway, I’ll call you when we get there. No, wait—I forgot, I lost my phone. Listen, maybe I’ll stop and see if anyone turned it in, so if you need anything, call Melanie on her cell. Bye.” Then, because I didn’t want a repeat of the last episode, I added, “It may be a couple of hours before I see you. Don’t worry. Melanie will call you when we get to town. Feel better. Bye.”

  Melanie was marginally cheered by the prospect of frozen hot chocolate, and she really cheered up when, as we were pulling on our coats and gloves, I gave in to Cisco’s hopeful gaze and decided to take him along for the ride. After all, he had been locked away all morning while people tromped through his house, and he had been relegated to the background ever since the puppies arrived. Maybe Sonny was right, and all he wanted was to feel special.

  “Say, why don’t we take the puppy too?” Melanie suggested eagerly. “I’ll bet she’d like that! I was reading on the Internet last night that puppies should start getting used to car rides before they’re twelve weeks old, and that you should take them fun places as often as you can so they don’t think getting in the car means going to the vet. I think we should take her with us.”

  Maude gave me an amused look. “And who are we to argue with the Internet?”

  I snapped on Cisco’s leash and opened the door. “Well, that’s all true, but it’s too cold for her to sit in the car for as long as we’re going to be gone. Cisco is a big dog with a thick coat. Besides,” I added as I could see another argument forming, “I don’t have a travel crate for her.”