There was a pause. I heard feet on carpet. Then The Mom spoke again. “Sometimes these investigations take months.”
“Months?” The Dad squeaked like the fake plastic burger toys at Pet Rescue. “We can’t live on my salary alone.”
“Mayor Baudry said he’d try to get my pay reinstated.” The Mom was trying to sound upbeat, but I could smell the truth. She wasn’t upbeat. She was beaten down.
“Yeah, and Baudry always makes good on his promises,” The Dad retorted. He wasn’t bothering to whisper. And he used that tone that meant the opposite of what he was saying.
“It’s going to be okay,” The Mom insisted. Now she sounded annoyed.
Cassie was barely breathing. I leaned into her. Propped her up as best I could.
“No, Dorrie. It’s not. It’s never going to be okay. Mark is dead.” There was a long silence. Thick and deep.
“This isn’t my fault,” The Mom said. Her voice was high and clipped, like the short, sharp bark of a Chihuahua. “How can I expect the force to believe me if my own husband won’t?”
Dead silence. It stretched on for a long time.
“Maybe you can’t.” The words were hanging there when the door flew open and The Dad stormed out of the office. He rushed past us, nearly stepping on my tail, and stormed out the front door. If he’d seen us, he showed no sign. I felt my legs twitch, wanting to run after him. But I stayed. I was a good dog.
Cassie’s body was clenched tight next to me. I stifled a whimper in my throat.
“This seriously sucks,” a voice said in the darkness. I whipped my head around to see where the voice had come from. A foot stuck out from behind the big reading chair by the window. It was wearing Sam’s sequined sneaker.
“What are you doing back there?” Cassie hissed.
“Eavesdropping, same as you,” Sam shot back. “You’re not the only one around here with sleuthing skills.”
Cassie exhaled v-e-r-y slowly. She made a decision. “So, what’d I miss?”
Sam scooched closer. Her face looked pinched. “Not much. Mom told Dad that we’ll have to cut corners. I think Dad grumbled something about blind corners, but it was hard to hear. He sounded really mad.”
Suddenly the door to the office reopened, wide this time. We were caught in a shaft of light. The Mom blinked and looked down at us. Her face was blotchy. “Oh, girls,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know you were there….” Her voice trailed off and she just stood there, shoulders slumped.
Sam jumped to her feet and threw her arms around The Mom, sobbing. The Mom patted her shoulder. “It’s going to be all right, Samantha,” she said as she led her toward the kitchen. But she wasn’t convincing anyone.
Cassie watched them go with shiny eyes, and this time it wasn’t an act. Then she got to her feet, shook herself a little, and walked into the office. I wasn’t sure what she was up to, so I waited by the sofa. The Sister came out of the kitchen and walked upstairs. My stomach rumbled.
When Cassie finally came out of the office, there was a funny lump under her sweatshirt. A bone? I wagged. I sniffed. No, not a bone. Paper.
“Come on,” she whispered as she started up the stairs. I followed, even though it was almost time for dinner. Dinner, dinner, dinner. And I was hungry.
I wasn’t through the door when I smelled company. The Cat. In our room. Grrr. Then I saw The Sister huddled up on Cassie’s bed. With The Cat. The Cat was stretched out like she owned the joint. The Sister’s face was still a mess. Her eyes were shiny, too. Cassie climbed onto the bed and gave her sister a hug. The Sister sniffled and leaned into my girl. They didn’t always get along, but they were littermates. And they were cuddling for comfort.
I eyed The Cat — no comfort there — and lay down on my bed to wait for dinner.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said, squeezing Sam’s shoulders. Maybe Mom was onto something.
Sam sat up a little and sniffled loudly. “You think so?”
“Yes,” I said. But I was biting my lip, because I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure at all. The situation was bad, and didn’t look like it would be getting better anytime soon. But my little sister didn’t need to know that — at least not right now.
“It’s just that Mom is acting so weird, and Dad is so angry all the time….”
“I know, but it’ll be over soon.” I paused. It was probably best to change the subject altogether, to distract her. “Did you get a chance to start on your science project?”
Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, the science project!” she groaned. “I totally forgot!” She jumped up, sending Furball to the floor and startling Dodge. I handed her a tissue. “You think I can get started before dinner?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. “I don’t think dinner will be ready for a while.” I felt sort of bad for rushing her out of my room. It wasn’t that long ago that it was her room, too, and she was having a hard time. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the folder I’d just borrowed from the office. I’d shoved it under a pile of stuff on my desk when I came in, so Sam wouldn’t see it. But one thing was clear: The fastest way out of the funk my family had fallen into was to get to the bottom of Mom’s suspension. To be honest, I was pretty shaken by Mom and Dad’s fighting, too. I knew Dad missed Uncle Mark like crazy and that he’d never been happy about how dangerous Mom’s job was. But even if Dad was doubting Mom, I wasn’t. I could fix this, and I would, just as soon as I got Sam out of my room.
Sam took the tissue and blew her nose like a trumpet, then smiled weakly. “Thanks, Cass.”
I gave her a hug. “Anytime.” She leaned down and scooped up Furball, then headed out. I crossed the carpet on her heels, closing the door tightly behind her and leaning against it. I was exhausted, but the file had to go back ASAP, so there was no time to rest.
“We’ve got to get to work,” I told Dodge. He thumped his tail on the rug while I got my case notebook out of my backpack. I sat down on the floor and leaned against the bed, thinking. I desperately wanted to dig into that file but knew I should make notes first, while my visit to the station was fresh in my mind. Pushing all thoughts of Summer, Dad, and Sam out of my mind, I turned to an empty page and wrote: “Mom’s Suspension” at the top, then made a list of station suspects below that.
CHASE LANGTREE: Mom’s assistant for two years. Seems a little cagey. Is he happy working for Mom? Anxious for promotion? Has full access to Mom’s work files, i.e., opportunity to set her up!
DEB BRUBAKER: Seems friendly. Motive? Mom made her pay several parking tickets she wanted to wiggle out of — did that make her angry? Access to files unclear.
DOUG WALKER: Where was he today? Often works with Mom on cases. Access to inside information. They seem to have a good relationship….
HANK RILEY: Totally suspicious. Laughs too loud. Been at the station a long time, knows the ins and outs; would probably know how to get his hands on files/info that he wouldn’t have official access to. Took Uncle Mark’s job and office.
I looked over at Dodge, because I knew how hard it was for him to lose his partner. And his job. I knew what he’d been through. Leaning down, I gave him a kiss on the forehead. “It’s behind you now,” I said soothingly, even though a lot of it was being dug back up. There were more officers to include on my list, but I was anxious to get to the next part of our investigation.
Dodge leaned against my leg and I closed the notebook, reaching for the thick folder. There were pages and pages inside, clipped together in sections. The top one was labeled “Confidential: Corps Investigation.”
“I think this calls for extra security,” I said, getting up to lock my door. Settling back down next to Dodge, I started to spread the Corps Investigation papers on the carpet. There were the articles I’d seen and some memos and pictures of men, apparently Corps members. I’d never heard of most of them, but one rang a bell: Gerard Slatterly — an older, greasy-looking guy. He had a thick neck, a round, puffy face, and sparse, slicked-back hair. He was the guy pointed out in the
Post-it at the opening of the community center. But I also had the feeling I’d seen him somewhere else.
I leafed through a few more photos. Notes beneath the faces told me that all of these men were suspected of racketeering, which I had to look up online to understand. It sounded like something you did with tennis gear, but actually meant using a business to cover up crimes or hide money that was earned illegally. Mafia stuff. From the police memos, I could tell that Mom and Uncle Mark had been investigating each of these criminals independently, trying to link them to The Corps, but hadn’t had much luck. They were gathering info and planning a raid on The Corps’s suspected headquarters. That raid was supposed to provide the evidence they needed to put these guys away. That was the raid that went wrong. Everything the police hoped to find was destroyed in the awful, unexplained explosion. The crooks went free, and Uncle Mark . . .
I didn’t realize I was crying until Dodge licked my face with his big pink tongue. I gulped and leaned into him, absorbing his warmth. Then I wiped my cheeks and got up. It was way past our regular dinnertime, but Mom hadn’t called me to set the table. Was there even going to be dinner? The house was unusually quiet. I unlocked my door and snuck downstairs to put the folder back where I found it. My mind was on overdrive, thinking about the raid. What caused the explosion? Why was Uncle Mark alone? And what was The Corps up to now?
Dodge cocked his head, pricking his ears. Dad was home. I shoved the folder to the bottom of the pile on the desk and listened to the front door close. I waited to hear voices, but it was totally silent. I hoped Sam was making good progress on her report, at least. I hoped Owen was doing okay downstairs in his room. Maybe he was stuffing his ears with extra loud music to drown everything out. I reached for Dodge and he put his chin on my thigh, letting out a long exhale. I totally agreed. I wished I could tune everything out, too — everything except my dog.
“Whoa. Twelve burgers?” Hayley eyed the giant bag of hamburgers I was holding, her expression a combination of disbelief and shock. “I know you like to eat, but twelve?”
Smiling to myself, I shrugged in response. It wasn’t very often that I got to pull something over on my best human friend. “I do it all the time.” I said. Ha! Whenever I rescued strays, I meant.
Hayley’s eyes got so huge and bulgy I had to come clean before they popped out of her head. “They’re not for me,” I admitted. “They’re for the dogs down on the waterfront.”
Hayley just kept looking at me, so I explained. “There are loads of strays down there, and I’ve been helping Taylor catch them and bring them to Pet Rescue. If we don’t bring them in, the city will nab them, and that would mean —”
Hayley covered her ears, her head moving from side to side. “Don’t say it! I know what it would mean.” She shuddered.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Too terrible to think about. That’s why I’ve been doing a little Pet Rescue overtime. That, and because I need to get out of my house as much as possible.” I was trying to joke but couldn’t even smile. Hayley gave me a sympathetic look and I caved. “It’s like last year all over again, only worse,” I confessed. “And . . .” I hesitated. I knew she remembered how it was at 332 Salisbury Drive after Uncle Mark died, when we were a family of mourning zombies. It was so awful, I honestly hadn’t known if we were going to make it through. Then Dodge moved in and basically saved my life. Hayley had been there for me then, too, so I figured I owed her the whole truth. “And now Mom’s been accused of being the one who caused Uncle Mark’s death,” I said in a rush. It felt good to finally tell her, and also horrible to say it out loud.
Hayley just stared at me while my words sank in. Then she put her arm around my shoulders. “We both know that can’t be true,” she said. “Not in a million years.”
I exhaled. Good answer. It was exactly what I wanted — and needed — to hear. But even though it made me feel better, it also made me feel worse. Because right now my little sister, who looked like the walking dead at breakfast, was at home … alone. I wondered if she was doing okay. I looked down at Dodge, who was drooling at the sight of the burger bag, and gave him a pat. “Sorry, boy. I think I’m going to have to take you home. Sam needs the company, and you do make those strays anxious.” I dropped to my knees and gave him a hug. “But only because they don’t know what a cupcake you are,” I added.
I straightened and turned to Hayley. “You could come with me, though,” I said hopefully. In addition to being the best baker in town, Hayley also loved dogs. Tragically, her parents wouldn’t let her get one because, well, they just weren’t dog people.
“I’d love to,” she said.
“Great. We can use all the help we can get. I just have to drop Dodge at my house first and . . .” I looked down and realized my dog was no longer next to me. I checked around the corner by the Dumpster where he’d gone a little nutso the night before … and spotted the tip of his brown tail.
“Dodge!” I called. “Come on!”
Dodge took a final sniff and heeled, and Hayley and I got on our bikes. Ten minutes later the three of us were at my house.
“Hey, Sam,” I called from the door.
Sam was working on her science project with her iPod on, and barely looked up. Even though I was a little annoyed, I couldn’t really blame her — tuning out was a survival method we were all using.
“Go lie down,” I whispered to Dodge. He gave me a pathetic look when he realized he wasn’t coming out with me and Hayley, so I reached into the bag for a meaty treat.
“Just one,” I warned, knowing he could have eaten the whole dozen in two minutes flat. He sniffed the bun and ate it first.
“I know, I know — poor consolation prize,” I agreed. I crouched next to him and met his eyes. “But I need you to stay here for Sam. You’re taking one for Team Sullivan.” Mom wasn’t home at the moment, but she was still commanding Operation Clean. And Dad had been putting in as much overtime as he could to earn a little extra income. And to stay away from Mom, I thought with a worried pang.
Licking his chops, Dodge headed into the living room. He spun three times, then lay down near Sam’s feet, as far from Furball as possible. Sam didn’t look up at me but did reach down to give Dodge a welcoming pet, so I know it helped.
Outside, Hayley and I hopped on our bikes and rode to the waterfront. I was so happy to escape the house — even without Dodge — that everything looked fresh and crisp. When we got to Rhoda Street, I started to see signs on a bunch of warehouses — signs I’d never noticed before. PROPERTY OF GREENWAY INDUSTRIES, they said over a picture of little high-rise buildings sprouting leaves. It looked familiar.
I remembered seeing GreenWay’s name and logo at the community center — they must have been big donors or something. The logos had been all over Bellport last year, on signs urging people to vote for Measure G. Measure G was supposed to use tax money to build a new park in the warehouse district, the start of a greenbelt.
“Hey, look. ‘Future Home of Seaway Greenbelt,’” Hayley read one of the warehouse signs out loud like she was reading my mind. “It’ll be great when we finally get that park. The views out here are gorgeous, but there’s no place to hang out and enjoy them. It’s almost like a ghost town.”
I nodded. Something about the signs gave me an uneasy feeling, and I pedaled a little harder. Every warehouse with a sign on it seemed to be abandoned. Empty and run-down. Not the park-like pedestrian setting GreenWay used in their Measure G ads.
A few minutes later we found Taylor in the same spot he’d been three days before, sitting on the edge of the loading dock with spiderwebs in his hair.
“Hey,” he called to us. “I hope you brought your magic, because it’s tough going today.”
I smiled and wagged the bag in the air. “Sure did,” I replied. “And Taylor, this is Hayley. Hayley, Taylor.” I heard myself saying their names out loud and was shocked to realize they’d never met. How was that possible?
“Good to meet you,” Taylor said in
his usual friendly way.
Hayley nodded, but her face looked a little weird and she was uncharacteristically silent. I was wondering what that meant when Taylor let out a sigh and stretched his legs.
“I need a break,” he admitted. “I’ve been working on the same dogs we were trying to lure the other day, and they’re not budging. I feel like I’ve been under there for hours. Do you think you guys could give it a try?”
Hayley nodded emphatically but still didn’t say anything, and a few minutes later we were belly down, crawling as far under the low deck as we could get. As my eyes adjusted, I saw four shiny spots from two pairs of eyes and heard a shuffling whimper.
“You know you’re hungry,” I said softly. “It’s okay. We won’t hurt you.”
The dogs scooched closer. They were so cute. And so skinny! I saw their noses quivering, smelling the food. They wanted burgers. They needed burgers. They inched forward slowly. I … thought … they … were … almost … to … me … and . . .
They were gone! The puppies retreated back under the building so far I couldn’t see them at all. What the heck?
A wave of frustration crashed over me and I looked back toward Taylor and the light. That’s when I saw them: the boots. As in Taylor’s big, black boots. To a puppy (who’d probably felt the front side of a shoe before), they’d be huge. Monstrous, even.
“I think it’s your boots,” I called to Taylor as Hayley and I began to crawl out. “What if they’re afraid of them?” I squinted in the light and brushed a strand of cobwebby hair out of my eyes.
“Oh, man,” Taylor groaned, glancing down at his signature footwear. “I didn’t even think of that!” Sitting down on the blacktop, he pulled his boots off and set them out of view. He was wearing mismatched socks — one white and one funky print — and Hayley giggled. Not just a little “that’s silly” snarfle, either. She let out one of those twittery giggles like she was Snow White and had birds alighting on her shoulders. What was that?
Dead Man's Best Friend Page 4
