Play Dead

by Leslie O'Kane

  “Why are you leaving? There’s nothing to discuss,” John insisted. “We’re keeping Mugsy.”

  “I hope you do, but I honestly believe this is a matter for you and your wife to decide in private. It was nice meeting you all. I’ll talk to you soon.” I let myself out.

  I hurried to the car, where Doppler was waiting. His brown-and-white colored face was pressed against the glass of the front passenger seat. “Well, that was fun,” I said as I got in and petted my dog. He got into the back as I started the engine. I wondered if Kaitlyn was still home, sobbing. “Maybe she’d like a nice, loyal Scottish terrier,” I said, smiling at the notion.

  Actually, I considered as I drove, Kaitlyn had been paying more and more attention to Doppler over the last several days. I glanced back at my classically handsome-featured cocker spaniel. Sometimes all it took was living with a sweet, affectionate, and well-behaved dog like Doppler to convert a non-dog person. Cuddling a dog was therapeutic—good for the soul and infinitely better than waiting for some jerk ex-husband.

  Not ready to go home and face my despondent housemate, I brought Doppler to my office. Doppler headed straight through my office, through Russell’s, and into the bathroom. There were the unmistakable sounds of Doppler’s lapping up something, which, when your dog is in a bathroom, is generally not good news. I followed him and discovered that the drip underneath the sink was leaking onto the floor.

  I stepped back into my office for a container, glanced at my mayonnaise-jar vase, then looked around for something else to use. I grabbed my coffee mug, which had a badly drawn cocker spaniel on it—clients were always giving me dog-themed coffee mugs as parting gifts—and stuck it under the dripping pipe attached to the cold water tap.

  Out of curiosity, I felt the pipe, and my fingertips measured an inch-long crack just above the joint. It would probably cost all of a buck fifty to replace this little section of pipe, but Russell had instead been allowing the water to drip into a jar, which he would then dump down the drain every morning. I decided I’d spur him—or the landlord—into action by doing a feeble, temporary repair job on it myself.

  I grabbed a roll of Scotch tape out of Russell’s office and awkwardly jammed myself under the sink to put a temporary tape wad over the crack. I knew, of course, that this wouldn’t work, but Russell would see it and be machoed into fixing it, and I’d get my coffee mug back. Doppler took immediate interest in my actions and joined me under the sink.

  After only four orbits of tape around the pipe, a familiar female voice called, “Anybody here?” Beth Gleason, I thought.

  “I’m back here.” I let the tape dangle from the pipe and angled my torso out from the sink cabinet. In the meantime, Doppler tore out of the room to investigate.

  “Hi, there, little fellow,” Beth said.

  I emerged and found Doppler bravely trying to present himself to the much taller Sage. Having been raised with a German shepherd, Doppler was not all that size-sensitive. Nonetheless, the two male dogs were doing their circling and shoulder-shoving thing while picking up each other’s scents, and Doppler was assuming the submissive role and allowing himself to be sniffed. Fortunately, Doppler had rarely been in my office, or he might have acted territorial and tried to fight.

  “Hi, Beth. Is anything wrong?”

  “Oh. No,” Beth answered, smiling sheepishly. She was wearing the same black T-shirt and jeans on her tall, lanky frame as yesterday. Then again, she might have a closet full of black clothing at home that simply looked the same to me. “I was just passing by, and I saw your car out front. Sage is doing much better. I gave him three cups of dog chow, and he ate it without even hesitating. I tossed his dish and used the new one I just bought, so I think that helps, too.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Sage came up to me and nuzzled my hand for petting, which caused Doppler to raise his hackles and bark.

  “Oh, dear. Looks like your cocker’s getting jealous.” Beth pulled Sage’s leash taut.

  “That’s why I don’t bring him to work with me.” I sat down at my desk chair and signaled for Doppler to hop onto my lap, which he promptly did. “Actually, I’m glad you stopped by, Beth. I wanted to ask you something. Do any of your neighbors own a white sedan?”

  She shrugged. “Not that I’ve noticed. Why?”

  “I’m not sure, but I got the feeling someone in a white sedan might have been following me yesterday.”

  Beth made a face. “Jeez, I sure hope not. You think it might have been a neighbor of mine?”

  “Actually, I’m hoping a neighbor just happened to be pulling out at the same time we were—that I’m not being followed at all. Could you start being on the lookout for white sedans? And start locking your house, just in case. This...thing about Sage’s former owner’s death and his food being tainted has me a bit spooked.”

  “Oh. Sure. I’ll be more careful with him.” Beth gave him a loving smile, then met my eyes. “My boyfriend just stood me up for breakfast. Have you eaten?”

  “No, my stomach requires at least two hours more than the rest of me does to wake up.”

  “Maybe we could go grab a bite someplace, after I have a chance to walk Sage back home, that is.”

  I glanced at my watch and considered the suggestion, somewhat surprised. She hadn’t struck me as likely to want to become friends with me. Just then, Russell appeared at the entrance. He was wearing a brown, wide-brimmed hat that matched the elbow pads on his tweed jacket. He had barely managed to push the door halfway open, when Sage flew to the attack.

  Chapter 6

  Russell let out a brief, “Yiaa!” and backed up. Sage plastered himself snarling and snapping against the inside of the glass door. This then touched off Doppler’s barking, so the two of them went at it—Doppler adding the tenor to Sage’s bass tones.

  Beth had been unable to keep hold of the leash and was now screaming, “No, Sage, no!” at the top of her lungs. I shushed Beth—explaining that this was just like joining Sage in barking, from a dog’s perspective—and gestured at Russell to get back out of sight. Beth then wrapped her arms around Sage and said, “It’s all right. He won’t harm you.”

  “Don’t fuss over him like that, Beth. He thinks you’re rewarding him for his behavior.” I grabbed a dog biscuit and called, “Doppler, come.” Doppler gave a last little bark, then came over and sat in front of me. I gave him the biscuit.

  “What am I supposed to do, then?” Beth asked, thrusting the fingers of both her hands through her shaggy, red-brown hair in frustration.

  “Sage, come,” I called. Sage immediately stopped his barking and came toward me. “Sit.” He did so, and I gave him a biscuit.

  “Isn’t your giving him a dog biscuit rewarding his behavior?” Beth asked, a tinge of resentment in her voice.

  “No, because I’m rewarding the dog for obeying my ‘come’ and ‘sit’ commands. Dogs don’t have the cause-and-effect rationale we humans do. They only understand reward or punishment for their current behavior, not for what they were doing even as recently as two seconds ago.” She glanced at the doorway, where Russell still had not reappeared. “Wait here, please. I’ve got to go see what my poor officemate wants.”

  I rushed outside and found a very flustered Russell Greene sitting in his car in the parking space next to mine. He looked so forlorn, sunk down in his seat, that I felt a pang of tenderness toward him. I bent to eye level and said through his open window, “Hi, kimosabi. Sorry about that.”

  “Dogs hate me,” he muttered.

  “Dogs just don’t universally hate a particular person. Unless maybe he’s wearing Odor de Cat cologne.” I thought for a moment. Sage hadn’t barked at him at all when Beth had first brought the dog over. That could be because Sage was the one entering last time, or that Russell had startled him this time. It could also have been something else entirely. “Aren’t you about to head out to the Buffs’ basketball game?”

  He nodded. “That’s why I came by. I called your house, and
your roommate said you were working. I wanted to find out if you’d seen my note and the spare ticket. I thought I’d ask you in person to come with me.”

  He got out of his car and stood next to me. His grin was motivated, I was sure, by the fact that I was now wearing sneakers, so he could show off his full six inches of height advantage.

  A cool breeze was starting to blow. “As it turns out, I’m with a collie client,” I said, having to hold my wispy light-brown hair out of my eyes.

  “A vicious one, if you ask me.”

  “Only some of the time.”

  “I heard about Sage’s personality quirk on your radio gig. It’s not like I’m wearing a raincoat, or anything, unless he considers this sports jacket a threat. Maybe it’s my tie he doesn’t like. Maybe it reminds him of a choke collar.”

  I grinned a little as I looked at Russell’s red silk tie. Who would put on a tie to go to a basketball game? He was going to be the only fan in the arena wearing one. He’d probably be mistaken for an usher. “Maybe it’s your hat. Would you be willing to help me for a moment?”

  “Depends. Does this have anything to do with going back inside your office and facing that rabid dog?”

  “Yes, but you can stay right next to the open door and duck out if he goes into attack mode again.”

  He paused, considering the matter, his dark eyes searching mine. “You know, Allida, that’s asking a lot. The most adversity I thought I’d face today was you turning me down for yet another date.” He paused and smoothed his mustache. “How long will this take?”

  “Not even two minutes.”

  “And can I bolt out the door without you thinking I’m a dog-hating wimp?”

  “Sure.” I already knew he was a dog disliker, if not hater, but that didn’t make him a wimp in my book—just not romantic material.

  “And will you go to the game with me afterwards?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me so mischievously that I had to laugh.

  “You drive a hard bargain, Russell, but yes.”

  “That’s worth a pound of flesh. Let’s go.” He started to lead the way, but I grabbed his arm.

  “I want you to take off your hat first. If Beth is right, it’s either your hat or your jacket that’s making Sage bark at you.”

  “I’d rather lose the jacket. The hat makes me look taller.”

  “The jacket makes your shoulders look broad,” I said, feeling a little guilty for being so manipulative, but I really wanted to test my theory while I had the chance.

  Russell grinned, his teeth white and even below his dark mustache.

  “I’m going to go in first. Give me a few seconds or so, then come in, paying no attention to the dog. And, just as generic advice for the future, if a dog starts growling at you, try to stand sideways to him. By a dog’s way of thinking, that’s the least confrontational stance you can take.”

  “I would think running away as fast as my two feet can take me would be as non-confrontational as it gets.”

  I laughed. “That’s true, but once you turn your back on a dog, it instinctively gives chase.”

  “Ah. Wouldn’t want that,” Russell said, rocking on his heels.

  I smiled and studied Russell’s face, which was pale and slightly damp with perspiration. “You sure you want to go through with this?”

  He nodded. “Are you sure you’ll come with me to the game if I do?”

  “Absolutely. I get a kick out of basketball, though I prefer playing to watching. I was the starting point guard for my college team.”

  “You were?”

  His tone was so incredulous that I added, “Back then I was six-one.” I headed inside, where Beth was pacing.

  “I was starting to wonder if you were coming back. Is that guy all right?”

  “He’s fine. He’s going to try entering the room again. I want to see how Sage reacts.”

  Moments later, Russell Greene, looking very tense, appeared. He had taken very seriously my advice about a sideways stance being less confrontational for dogs and climbed sideways down the cement steps to the entrance. He opened the door, still completely sideways to us, and sashayed into the room.

  Sage tensed a little and let out a couple of short, moderate barks, but stayed seated.

  “Should I face you now?” Russell asked timidly.

  “Yes.”

  Doppler, who was always friendly to just about everybody, rushed up to greet Russell, who took a step back in fear.

  “N-nice doggie,” he said with all of the confidence of someone at rock bottom of the food chain. Doppler continued to wag his stubby tail.

  “Wow. That’s kind of weird,” Beth said. “I don’t understand why Sage was barking before, but not now.”

  “I had Russell take his hat off. That may not be what’s behind Sage’s reaction, but I wanted to test the theory.” I cleared my throat, grinned, and said, “Russell?”

  He met my eyes, a panicked expression on his face. He held up his palms. “Oh, no. I knew it! You’re going to ask me to go out, put my hat on, and then come back in, aren’t you?”

  Trust an engineer to figure out the best test procedure. I mustered my sweetest voice and asked, “Would you mind terribly?”

  “All right. I’ll do it. But after I escape from that big, vicious dog trying to eat me alive, I’ll meet you in my car. All right?”

  “Thank you, Russ,” I said, embarrassed but still determined to go through with the plan.

  “Is that your boyfriend?” Beth asked the moment the door closed behind him.

  “No, he just shares this office space.”

  “Boy, does he ever have a crush on you,” Beth said, shaking her head as she leaned back against my desk.

  “You think?”

  We waited in silence for what was an inordinate amount of time for Russell simply to retrieve his hat and come back down the steps. Sage and Doppler, in the meantime, lay down on the floor back-to-back, nearest their respective owners.

  Finally, Russell reappeared, doing his best to tiptoe sideways down the steps, his hat perched so lightly on the top of his head that the least little breeze would whisk it away. He barely got the door open a crack before Sage started barking wildly. Russell slammed the door and raced up the stairs.

  “Weird,” Beth said, over the sounds of Sage’s barking. Once again, Doppler started up too, his hackles raised in excitement.

  I held up the box of dog treats to Beth. “Time to try learning how to distract Sage from his barking.”

  She grabbed a dog bone and cried, “Come here, Sage. Come on.”

  I resisted a sigh and said, “Dog’s name first, then the word ‘come.’”

  “Sage, come.”

  Sage immediately stopped barking and obeyed. “Good dog,” Beth said, giving him the biscuit and stroking his back.

  Well trained dog, I thought. As soon as his owner could get the hang of the basics, they’d be in good shape.

  Beth began to unzip a purple fanny-pack on her hip. “While I’m here, I want to pay you in advance for six weeks of treatment for Sage.”

  “There’s no reason for you to do that. We don’t even know for certain that it’ll take six weeks.”

  She hauled out a fistful of twenties. “Maybe so, but I’d rather pay up while I’m thinking about it. I’ve got the cash now, and I’m not always so good with keeping track of my money.”

  She handed me the bills, and I gave her a receipt and thanked her, stashing the cash in my wallet and reasoning that I could always give her a refund if she had overpaid. “Were the men Sage barked at before wearing hats, in addition to raincoats?”

  Beth said slowly, “I guess they must have been, when I think back. I just thought it had to have been the coat. I mean, who would notice such a little thing as a man’s hat?”

  “Dogs have excellent memories. While it’s a little unusual to have a memory triggered by something visual and not a smell or sound, Sage was probably traumatized by a man wearing a hat.”

  “Yeah.
Such as one shooting his owner in the head,” Beth murmured.

  “Maybe, but the trauma could have been caused by any number of actions.” Which was why I was handicapped in not being able to ask Hannah Jones about Sage’s personal history. Even so, it should be fairly easy to counter condition Sage not to bark at men wearing hats. “We’ve got a starting point now for working with Sage on Monday. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to take a rain check on breakfast. I’ve got a basketball game to go to.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll walk out with you. I’d like to thank your little man with the enormous crush.”

  I grinned. “Let’s not call him that, though. I have a feeling he’d take it the wrong way.” I hesitated. With Russell’s touchiness regarding dogs, I decided there was no point in asking him if we could drive Doppler home first.

  If I was going to leave Doppler alone for over two hours, he needed a dog bowl. My coffee cup—which would taint the water with coffee flavor—wasn’t going to cut it. I’d have to sacrifice my mayonnaise-jar-cum-flower-vase. I quickly filled the sink, put the flowers in that water, rinsed out the vase and filled it to the brim.

  “Okay. Let’s go. I need to leave Doppler here.”

  Seated in his car up ahead, Russell was getting the anxious look of a man who, though he might never be on time for anything else in his life, knew that the game’s tip-off was growing near.

  Beth glanced nervously down the street, barely managing a smile at me as she said goodbye.

  Perplexed by Beth’s change in attitude, I asked, “Are you going to walk home? We can give you and Sage a ride.”

  “No, I can use the exercise. Besides, that’s one of the reasons I—”

  A black car screeched to a halt. A male driver who was so tall his curly brown hair was nearly brushing against the ceiling of his car rolled down the window. “Beth!”

  “Oh, jeez,” Beth said under her breath, “It’s Chet.”

  “I’ve been looking all over for you!” he called, thumping the side of his door through the window. “Figured you were out walking your dog. What the hell’s going on?”