“Yeah, we’ll clear,” Sam chirped, trying to save the moment. She got up and took Mom’s plate. Mom forced a smile and held up her hands in mock surrender, but her skin was creased between her eyebrows and her lips formed a straight line. Feeling guilty, I helped Sam carry everything into the kitchen.
Well, almost everything. When nobody was looking I put my full plate on the floor for Dodge. He looked at me unenthusiastically before digging in. I’m pretty sure he was only eating it so he wouldn’t hurt my feelings. Owen put his plate down for Dodge, too, then retreated to his basement hideaway. Dodge barely even sniffed his second course.
“Oh, Dodge,” I sighed as we headed up to our room. “I think this is going to get ugly.” Dodge bounded a few steps ahead and looked back expectantly. “I know,” I said. “Right now we just have to wait and see what happens.”
I followed my dog down the hall and he pushed open the door to our room with his snout. I set my cell phone on my dresser. Normally, when I had big news or a problem I needed help with, I’d call my best friend, Hayley Gault. Hayley was the greatest thing on two legs. She gave excellent advice, cracked me up, and baked the most delicious brownies I’d ever tasted. But this problem didn’t feel normal; it felt out of my league. My gut sensed something terrible, and my gut was usually right.
The other reason I didn’t call Hayley was, well, it just didn’t seem right to tell anybody about Mom’s suspension. For one thing, I didn’t have the whole story, and I knew from past experience that talking about a small part of a terrible situation could make it even more terrible. In my twelve years on the planet I’d noticed that humans had a way of assuming the worst when they let their imaginations fill in the blanks. Unlike dogs, who almost always assumed the best. So I decided to keep this situation between me and Dodge, at least for now.
We flopped onto our beds and I stared at the ceiling, stroking the soft fur between Dodge’s shoulder blades. Dodge chewed his sleep buddy Bunny’s ear, puffing air out his nose. We were anxious. We lay there together, listening to the sounds of the house.
Mom was lathering in the kitchen. Dad was holed up in the office on the computer. Sam was heading upstairs with the phone pressed to her ear. Owen was in his cave. Everybody was there, but nobody was home.
Most nights Cassie dozed off pretty fast. Once she fell asleep, I liked to take a little sniff and prowl around the neighborhood. But I always waited until her breathing was steady and her heartbeat slowed. Then I headed out on my nightly rounds. Tonight, though, things were off. We weren’t sleeping. Cassie stared at the ceiling. I nibbled Bunny’s ear. These were the things that usually helped us relax. Only neither of us was relaxing.
It took so long for Cassie to fall asleep I accidentally fell asleep first. And worse, I dreamed. Not good dreaming, like chasing rabbits or stealing The Cat’s food. No. I dreamed horrible dreams. I dreamed of the time before.
I didn’t like to think about that before time. Ever. Only sometimes, when I was asleep, parts of it came creeping back. Including the awful ending.
My paws twitched uselessly in an effort to escape the nightmare. I barked desperately but was paralyzed by sleep. My mouth and lips barely worked. Finally I barked so loudly I woke myself up.
When my eyes blinked open, I was instantly on all fours — standing on my bed with fur on end. I was ready for a fight. Too bad you can’t shred a dream.
Outside Cassie’s window the sky was getting light. I shook myself hard and looked again. Still light. I hadn’t just fallen asleep, I’d slept most of the night! There was no time left for recon. Too late for rounds, and I didn’t want to lie back down. I didn’t want to close my eyes again. I didn’t want to slide back into that terrible dream. I thought maybe downstairs, on the squishy couch, I might sleep without dreaming. Maybe I wouldn’t be haunted there.
I put my face close to Cassie and felt her breathing, warm and steady. I hid Bunny under the bed and padded down to the living room. The couch sounded better with each step, but before I even got to it I realized I wasn’t the only one awake.
Light and noises were coming from the office. I pushed the door with my snout, opening it just wide enough to slip through. The Mom looked up. She had circles under her eyes. “Hey, Dodge,” she said. Her voice was scratchy and she looked like she hadn’t slept at all.
The Mom lifted her bag and started to dig through it. “Where are those keys?” she mumbled. She put her hand on her forehead and gazed around the room. The drawers to the desk were open. The desktop was messy. She had been searching for a while. She needed a break.
“Whuff,” I barked softly so I wouldn’t wake anyone who’d managed to sleep. “Whuff,” I barked again, loud enough to get The Mom out of the office.
“Time for breakfast, Dodge?” she asked. Her smile was weak. “It’s a little early, but since we’re both up . . .”
I wagged and she followed me into the kitchen. I scarfed down my chow in just a few bites while she started the coffee. Then I stationed myself by the counter where I could keep an eye on The Mom and catch the upcoming breakfast crumbs.
The Mom and I were still the only ones awake when her cell phone rang in her bathrobe pocket.
“Hello?” she answered.
The phone buzzed.
“Mayor Baudry. Yes, I’m awake. I didn’t expect to hear back from you so soon.”
Baudry. My tail thumped in recognition. I knew that guy. But The Mom was talking to him in her chirpy voice — a voice she didn’t usually use with the mayor.
The phone buzzed again. It buzzed for a long time while The Mom used her thumbnail to scratch up a patch of dried milk on the counter.
I wished my good ear could understand what the insect-like noises in the phone were saying. I had no idea how people did that.
“Of course anything you can do would be great, but I don’t think it’s possible while I’m suspended.”
Her voice was getting beggy. It made me wince.
“Yes, anything you can do. We really count on my income.”
Pause.
“Thank you so much, Morris.”
She hung up, shoulders sagging. I covered my nose with my paw, embarrassed for her. The Chief wasn’t a groveler. Alphas don’t beg … unless their lives depend on it.
By the time the sun came through the back windows and warmed patches on the floor, the rest of the pack was up. It was the regular rising time for them, but nothing else about it felt regular.
The Mom was still in pajamas even though she hadn’t slept. Everyone noticed; it was impossible not to. The Mom was always in uniform before anyone else opened their eyes, and in running clothes before light on weekends.
“I thought I’d take a vacation day,” she said lamely, pouring herself another cup of coffee. Nobody laughed. They just tried to eat their breakfasts and get out of the house as soon as they could. Cassie looked me in the eyes and told me to take care of The Mom. Then we were alone. Me. The Mom. The Cat. I thought The Mom might get dressed, but she just sat in the kitchen. She stayed. And stared. Just stayed and stared.
It was depressing to see her like that. Doing nothing. Like watching a cattle dog with no cattle to herd.
It was depressing for another reason, too. I was trapped. No sneaking out. No napping on the couch. No disciplining The Cat. Nothing but keeping an eye on The Mom and watching The Cat gloat. Depressing and humiliating.
The Cat knew she had the upper paw, too. She paraded along the back of the couch, stopping in the middle. She raised her hind leg like a flag and began to groom herself. On the couch, where I couldn’t go. Cats. If she could have laughed out loud, she’d have howled.
I looked longingly at the forbidden couch cushions and flopped down on the carpet — the thin carpet on the hard floor. I put both of my paws over my nose and let out a breath. It was going to be a very long “until further notice.”
No question about it: mopey Mom in her pajamas was totally depressing. The day after that awful dinner, I’d gott
en home to find her still wearing pajamas, still looking lost and haunted. But within two days of her suspension I discovered a version of Mom that was even more alarming: Drill Sergeant Mom. One day she was drifting aimlessly around the house, and the next she was running it like she ran the police department.
“I want all of you home immediately after school today,” she announced at breakfast on Thursday morning. “Operation Clean starts at four o’clock sharp!” She was dressed in an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt, but the entire outfit had been ironed, and the jeans were secured snugly around her hips with a belt.
“But I’ve got a big science project due on Monday,” Sam said.
Mom leveled her gaze at my little sister over the rim of her coffee mug. “Then I suggest you beeline it from school,” she said between sips. “The sooner you finish your cleaning duties, the sooner you can get to work on your report.”
I gulped down my orange juice while Dodge scooched closer to my leg. Mom was serious; there’d be no getting out of Operation Clean.
“This is gonna suck,” Owen whispered as we loaded our dishes into the dishwasher.
I nodded my agreement. “No kidding. Maybe she’ll turn back into mopey Mom while we’re at school.”
Dodge let out a wistful sigh, and Owen ruffled his neck fur. “I feel for you, boy,” he said. “Being stuck here with her all day can’t be fun.”
Dodge gave him a look that said “Don’t remind me” and plodded into the living room to his usual spot on the floor. I grabbed my jacket and backpack and came over to give him a kiss good-bye.
“A nice long nap might help,” I told him.
Dodge thumped his tail in response, and I headed out the door.
* * *
When I came back through the door seven hours later, Dodge was waiting for me, his eyebrows looking decidedly worried.
“Hey, boy,” I said, dropping low for a face-to-face. Dodge licked my cheek, whimpering, and led me into the kitchen. Sam and Owen were already there, looking miserable, and it didn’t take a detective to see why. The entire kitchen table was covered in cleaning supplies. Buckets, mops, rags, sponges, and cleansers of all kinds were organized in neat rows, by category. Not only was Operation Clean actually happening, The Chief had taken cleaning the house to a whole new level. “Our mission is twofold,” Mom said with her hands on her hips. “To get the house in tip-top shape, and to find my missing keys.”
Owen didn’t seem to be listening. “What’s the toothbrush for?” he asked, picking up the red plastic wand.
“For you,” Mom replied with a smile. “You’ll need it to get the gunk out of the grout on the kitchen floor.” She handed him a bucket and a product called “Tile Sparkle.” “You’d better get to it — it’s a big floor.”
Owen opened his mouth to protest. Then he seemed to remember that Mom had been suspended “until further notice” and that he’d better be on his best behavior — at least for now. Silently taking the bucket and the bottle, he got to work in the corner by the stove.
“Sam, you’re on downstairs bathroom.” Mom handed her cleanser — Toilet Bowl Bright — a sponge, and a couple of rags. “The toilet brush is in the bathroom. Make sure you scrub behind the toilet — it gets pretty gross back there.”
“Eeewww,” Sam said, pulling a face.
“Not when you’re done with it,” Mom said, still smiling.
Sighing heavily, my little sister took the supplies and flounced off to the bathroom.
Dodge was practically sitting on my feet, and I was grateful for his presence as I braced for my cleaning assignment. “Cassie, you’re on the office. It’s a mess in there, so you might have to do a little organizing along with the dusting. Those bookshelves haven’t been touched in months.”
Score! I thought as I tried to look upset. I didn’t want Mom to suspect how pleased I was. Compared to the kitchen floor and the toilet, I was getting off easy. And if there was one thing I didn’t mind organizing, it was Mom’s files. Dodge and I could do some serious digging in there….
Dodge was through the door first, sniffing his way straight to the desk, which was a disaster.
“A little organizing is right,” I said.
I set the cleaning stuff on a chair and eyed the desk. Receipts, pens, papers, binder clips, newspapers, magazines, notebooks, and coffee cups were spread across the entire surface.
I dove in and began sorting things into piles. Mom had a lot of old papers, and even more receipts. I scanned every piece that came through my hands, trying not to let disappointment take over as the sorted stacks grew and my hopes of finding a clue shrank. There was nothing here that had anything to do with Mom’s suspension or Uncle Mark — it was just endless sorting.
“Maybe the bathroom would’ve been a better job,” I mumbled. Dodge gave me a sympathetic look, then got to his feet and stretched, a big doggy stretch with his butt in the air. Yawning, he ambled out of the room. Who could blame him? I was totally bored, too.
Sighing heavily, I dropped a handful of paper clips into the drawer and started to stack newspapers for recycling. And then I saw it, there on the bottom of the last pile. The corner of a manila folder. I pulled it out. A thick manila folder with the words “Corps Investigation” written on the tab. That was not for the general file. That looked intriguing.
My heart started racing. I shoved the stuff off the chair and sat down, flipping the folder open. My eyes widened as I leafed through the pages. Newspaper clippings, police documents, memos. There was a ton of stuff in here — stuff I wanted to read. I considered swiping the whole thing right then and there but knew that if Mom found out it was missing, I’d be in major trouble. Maybe I could copy a few of the documents and come back later….
I grabbed three papers off the top that looked like they might be important. They were all about The Corps — a criminal ring that operated in Providence but was rumored to have its headquarters in Bellport. Keeping one eye peeled on the door, I scanned an article about a ribbon-cutting ceremony for the opening of the new community center. There was a picture of Mayor Baudry with a pair of giant scissors. The caption read: Mayor Baudry and William Kemper proudly unveil new center. But stuck to the article was a Post-it note with an arrow drawn on it, pointing toward another man in the crowd. It was hard to see his face because he was turned. Next to the arrow was a single word, or name, that made no sense to me at all: Slatterly. Who was Slatterly?
A whimper made me raise my head and slam the folder shut. “Dodge?” I called. The only response was the scraping of something against the floor. It sounded like the front hall bench. Peeking out the door, I spotted Dodge’s behind sticking up in the air.
“Whatcha after, boy?” I put the folder back on the desk, at the bottom of the pile so I could come back to it.
In the entry hall Dodge was shoving shoes out from under the bench with his snout. He’d pushed about six pairs out when I heard the clink of keys.
Grasping Mom’s keychain in his teeth, Dodge pulled them from under the seat and victoriously set them in my hand.
“We found the missing keys!” I shouted.
“Woof!” Dodge agreed triumphantly.
“Thank God,” Sam called from her perch in front of the bathroom mirror (where she was inspecting her face for zits she’d probably never have). It looked as though she hadn’t moved at all — the cleaning stuff sat untouched by the toilet. “She’s been making me crazy looking for those!” Sam complained.
I shot my sister a “give me a break” look. “She’s making us all crazy. About everything,” I quietly reminded her as Mom came into the hall.
“My keys!” Mom exclaimed. “Where were they?”
“On the floor, under the coat hooks,” I said, handing them over. “Dodge found them.”
Mom jingled the keys lightly, looking happier than I’d seen her in days. She got down on her knees and gave Dodge a thank-you hug. “What a good boy,” she praised him.
“What’s so crucial about th
at set of keys?” I asked as Owen slouched up to us.
Mom held her just-a-sec finger in the air, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and dialed. When nobody answered, she hung up. “What was that?”
“The keys,” I repeated. “Why so important?”
A shadow crossed her face, erasing any cheeriness the keys had delivered. “Apparently I wasn’t supposed to bring them home,” she explained, her eyebrows knitting together. “They need them at the station so they can look into my files. Their files, I suppose,” she added with a sigh.
The word “files” buzzed in my brain and I glanced down at Dodge, an idea coming to me. “You want me to drop them off for you?” I asked, trying to sound helpful. I could get to the folder on her desk later — I doubted it was going anywhere — but the files at the station . . .
Mom sighed. She looked tired all of a sudden, probably thinking about how she wasn’t allowed at the station. “That’d be great,” she said. Before she could change her mind, I grabbed my backpack and sweatshirt off the hook.
Sam paused in her chin examination and came out of the bathroom looking hopeful. Since the keys had been located, maybe Operation Clean would be canceled. But before she could even open her mouth, drill sergeant Mom was leveling a finger at her. “I didn’t say you were done.” She stepped through the bathroom doorway and pointed. “That toilet still needs some serious scrubbing, and the sink is a disgrace. What have you been doing?”
It was a good time to make a hasty exit! I brushed past Owen on my way to the door. “Lucky,” he mouthed at me.
“Jealous,” I mouthed back. Not that I disagreed. I was lucky, and I’d be jealous, too. But hey, I thought of it first!
I gave an undignified yip as we headed down the driveway. I was that happy to be out of the house. All those cleaning smells made my nose twitch, in a bad way. Plus we were walking, which meant we’d be out longer. Woof!
I kept up easily as we turned onto the sidewalk and headed toward the center of town. Normally I didn’t like to go to the station. It reminded me of the time before. The time I tried to forget. But I’d been cooped up all day and we were just doing a quick errand. Nothing I couldn’t handle.
Dead Man's Best Friend Page 2
