Bark If It's Murder

by V. M. Burns

  “Stephanie?”

  “Hi, Mom. How’s Atlanta?”

  I explained that I was back in Chattanooga and quickly shared the reason for my call.

  She listened patiently while I explained what I’d just learned from the bank. She asked a few questions. I gave her both my Social Security number and that of her father, although I knew, as a lawyer, she had access to the information. I wanted to make it as easy as possible for her.

  “That’s despicable. It’s like Dad’s been victimized twice. First someone murders him, and now they murder his name by destroying his credit.”

  “I know, dear. I can try to take care of this, but—”

  “I’m fine. In fact, I’d love to fight this battle. This makes me so angry.”

  All of her life, Stephanie had been a protector of the innocent. It was the reason she chose law. Even though she worked for a big firm in Chicago, she handled a lot of pro bono work and loved cases that involved the little guy who was being bullied by the system or large corporations.

  “Thank you. How’s Lucky? Oh, and Joe?”

  Stephanie laughed. “I love how you ask about my dog before you ask about my boyfriend.” She chuckled. “Both are doing well. Lucky is actually lying in a dog bed under my desk even as we speak.”

  “Your job lets you bring your dog to work?”

  “He’s so well-behaved, and with the training he’s had, everyone loves him. When people are stressed, they come in and play with him and it helps them feel better. Plus, Joe got him certified as a registered therapy dog like Aunt Dixie recommended.”

  I smiled at the way my children took to Dixie and referred to her as their aunt, even though there was no blood relationship between us. “Joe did it?”

  “Well, I could have taken him, but he was so much more familiar with the rules for the test.”

  I hoped one day to get Aggie tested to be a registered therapy dog. Dixie’s dogs were registered therapy dogs, and she had told us about Therapy Dogs International, which performed the tests to ensure a dog had the proper temperament to go into nursing homes and hospitals. There were studies that showed people recovered better when they had a dog to pet. However, I’d briefly looked at the requirements for the testing. It wasn’t anything difficult, but a few of the exercises would be a challenge, like greeting a friendly stranger without pouncing on them and not being skittish around wheelchairs, walkers, or crutches. The hardest for Aggie would be leaving food that had dropped on the floor. In fact, I asked Dixie why that was even important. She mentioned how at nursing homes and hospitals she had occasionally encountered pills on the floor and that it was important that a dog was trained not to quickly eat something dropped.

  “So Lucky is a registered therapy dog now?”

  I could hear the pride in her voice. “Yes, and, Mom, it’s been amazing. I had a case involving a little kid who rarely speaks to anyone except her brother. I needed to question her and I brought Lucky. She just sat on the floor and petted him. She talked to Lucky and answered every one of my questions.”

  “That’s great, honey.”

  We talked for a few moments and then hung up with promises to speak over the weekend.

  I sat for a few minutes and thought about the series of events that led to both my daughter’s and my own happiness. We met Officer Joe Harrison when he came by to notify us that my husband, Albert, was dead. Joe was on the K-9 division for the Lighthouse Dunes Police Department. There was an instant connection between him and Stephanie. When I moved to Chattanooga and Aggie found a dead body while Joe and Stephanie were visiting, it was Joe who called an old friend from his military days, Red Olson, who was with the TBI, to look after us when he had to return to Indiana. I wouldn’t say there was an instant connection between Red and me, but we were finding our way.

  I said a brief prayer of thanks and once again, prepared to leave. This time when my phone rang, it was Dixie.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying your anniversary?”

  Dixie laughed. “Hello to you too.”

  “I’m sorry. Hello, and how are you and Beau?”

  “We’re fine, but the anniversary trip to Gatlinburg will have to be rescheduled.”

  “What happened?”

  “Are you free for a late lunch? I’m downtown.”

  “I’m starving.”

  We agreed to meet at a downtown tearoom I loved. I grabbed my purse, and this time I made it out of the museum without interruption.

  The English Tea House was a quaint shop near the Chattanooga Choo Choo that not only served real British tea but also had a small gift shop where you could buy clotted cream, teacups, and hard-to-find British food items like Marmite, frozen faggot, and spotted dick. They even had real suet for those diehard expats interested in making their own spotted dick pudding.

  Dixie had already arrived by the time I got there, and thankfully, she’d ordered the cream tea.

  As soon as I sat down, I grabbed a scone, slathered strawberry preserves and clotted cream over it, and took a bite. It was delicious. There were sandwiches, pastries, and an extra plate of scones because, as Dixie liked to say, “This isn’t our first rodeo.” She loved scones as much as I did, and we’d both eaten our weight in them.

  Once I’d eaten enough to take the edge off my hunger, I asked, “Why aren’t you in Gatlinburg?”

  Dixie explained that the storm that had passed through the other night had apparently taken out the power to the cabin she and her husband had reserved.

  “It’s an anniversary trip,” I joked. “It’s supposed to be romantic. You could have made a fire in the fireplace and snuggled together.”

  Dixie snorted. “I was not about to stay in the mountains with no lights, no heat, no hot water, no curling iron, no charge for my cell phone, and no food.”

  “The pictures you showed me of the cabin had a huge kitchen.” In fact, the cabin was the most luxurious log cabin I’d ever seen. It included a hot tub and sauna, although, with no power, they wouldn’t have been able to use those.

  “What good is a kitchen when you can’t put the food in the refrigerator and keep it cold? I wasn’t about to put it outside so we could attract bears. Plus, the stove was electric. So…I made Beau pack up and take me home.”

  “Poor Beau.”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t that excited about being in the mountains anyway.” She sipped her tea. “Now, what’s going on with you?”

  I had refrained from telling Dixie about the murder I’d witnessed, not wanting to ruin her anniversary, but now I filled her in on all of the details.

  She listened in rapt silence. Her face reflected her shock at each major turn of events in the story. When I finally finished, she stared for several long moments.

  “Wow! That’s horrible to actually witness someone being brutally murdered.” She shivered. “Are you okay?”

  Dixie was one of the only people who had recognized how stressful it was for me to actually witness another human being killed. Her thoughtfulness and compassion brought a tear to my eye, but I quickly choked back the emotion.

  “It was tough.” I took a deep breath. “But I’m better now.” I smiled at my friend to show her I really was working on getting that horrible memory out of my mind.

  She smiled coyly. “Sounds like you and Red are doing well.”

  Heat rushed up my neck, and I quickly took a sip of tea to hide the smile forming on my lips. “We’re fine—now.” I stared into my cup to avoid the condemnation I deserved reflected in her eyes. “I’m ashamed at how I behaved.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe I hung up on him and acted like a teenager.” I looked up. “I’m old enough to know that communication is vital in any relationship, yet when I thought he didn’t trust me, the first thing I did was hang up and avoid talking.”

  I was surprised and pleased when Dixie rea
ched out and squeezed my hand. I took a deep breath and got up the courage to look at her. I was thankful when, instead of disapproval, I saw compassion.

  “Stop being so hard on yourself. No one’s perfect, especially when the heart is involved. You’ve been through a lot of emotions in a short period of time with Albert’s cheating on you with that stripper, his murder, moving six hundred miles away, then Aggie found that dead body, and being held hostage.” She shook her head. “Frankly, I think you’re doing pretty well, all things considered.” She gave my hand another squeeze. “I’m just glad Red didn’t give up.” She smiled.

  “So am I.” I smiled back.

  “Now what are you going to do?”

  I was a bit puzzled. “Well, we went to dinner last night and we’ll—”

  “I mean about the murder.”

  I considered whether or not to share the crazy plan that I formulated last night.

  “Spill it.”

  I pulled out my notebook. “I’ve been thinking about possible motives for why Dallas might kill his wife, and money seems the most logical thing to me.”

  She shrugged. “Agreed. Money can be a very powerful reason for murder, but how to prove it?”

  “I was thinking we need someone on the inside.”

  She stopped her cup midway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I was thinking about seeing if he needed anyone to do his books.”

  “Are you crazy?” She put her cup down so quickly she spilled tea on the table. “You are deliberately going to work for someone you believe murdered his wife?” She stared at me as though I’d lost my mind.

  “I don’t think he knows I’m the one who reported seeing it, but I’ll need to check with Red.”

  “Red is going to explode when he hears this.” She narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t told him yet, have you?”

  I slowly shook my head.

  “I want to be a fly on the wall for that one.”

  “Thanks… I was hoping you would help me.” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice. Dixie had been there through the last few difficulties, and I relied on her wisdom and support. The fact that she always packed a gun was also helpful when dealing with murderers.

  She sighed. “Of course I’ll help you. You don’t think I’m going to stand by while you single-handedly trap a murderer, do you?”

  I smiled.

  “Now, what’s the plan?”

  Chapter 8

  Tuesday night meant obedience training. After lunch, I went back to my hotel room and spent a few hours of quality time with Aggie before driving to obedience class.

  There were four people in the class. Monica Jill and her dog, Jac, were already in the building. I spent a few minutes and told her about the disappointing news from my bank.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry.” She hugged me. “But we’re just going to pray and believe that God will make a way for you to get that house.”

  “Well, thank you.” I smiled and turned to walk away.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I’m going to get ready for class.” Unless she’d had a stroke in the last five seconds, she had to realize why we were here.

  “Oh no, you don’t, sister.” She grabbed my hands, closed her eyes, and proceeded to pray for God to show favor for me with the bank and help me get approved for my mortgage.

  I was still adapting to the Southern Bible Belt with bold Christians, where store clerks and waitresses ended conversations with “Have a blessed day” and where perfect strangers hugged and openly prayed for me in public forums. As a Catholic from Indiana, I wasn’t ashamed of my faith, but I was also not as comfortable with public demonstrations.

  Thankfully, her prayer was brief. When she finished, she hugged me. Unfortunately, we still had our dogs, and Jac and Aggie decided they were too close for comfort. As the dogs pulled away, our leashes got tangled and we were roped together like cattle. We had to cling to each other to avoid falling.

  “Jac!” Monica Jill snapped her fingers. “Sit.”

  Obviously, she must have been practicing, because he quickly put his butt on the ground and looked up, expecting his treat.

  It was easier for me to simply scoop Aggie up in my arms and unclip her leash.

  We untangled our dogs just as the other members of the class arrived.

  B.J. Thompson and her West Highland terrier, Snowball, waited by the bleachers. The last member of the class was Dr. Morgan and his German shepherd, Max. Dr. Morgan was a coroner. He was blunt, and when I first met him, I didn’t like him. However, after he saved my life, I softened my opinion of him. Once I got to know him, I realized he was shy and socially awkward, which was probably why he chose to work with dead people. He wouldn’t have to talk to his patients.

  Dixie entered with Leia and Chyna, who regally walked into the building without pulling on their leashes. In fact, most times Dixie didn’t even bother attaching their leashes, they were so well behaved. However, she believed in setting a good example, so she always used leashes at the dog club. They followed Dixie to the middle of the floor, where they stood, gazing at her face and waiting for a command before they lay down. Further amazing was the fact that they stayed there while she left the room to get her papers in the office, in spite of Snowball’s barking and Jac’s pulling on his leash as Monica Jill strained to keep him from running to the poodles. Even Max, the German shepherd, paced anxiously. Aggie considered the two standards part of her tribe and would have taken off for a quick round of catch me if you can if I wasn’t still holding her. Even then, I had to tighten my hold to keep her from leaping out of my arms.

  Dixie hurried back and started the class. Today’s lesson involved learning to walk on a leash without pulling. She picked up the leash of one of the poodles and demonstrated the lesson, which, for her, involved walking with her dog on a loose leash. For us, our leashes were much shorter with less room for the dogs to get out of position. The exercise would involve starting with the dogs on our left sides in a sit. Treats in hand and in front of the dog’s nose, we would give the command to heel and walk while the dog nibbled at the treat.

  “Okay, now I want you all to try.” Dixie gave a hand signal, which told her dog to return to her lounging position and watch the show.

  “That’s all good and fine for you people with big dogs, but how exactly am I supposed to do that?” B.J. said with her hand on her hip and a tilt to her head.

  Dixie smiled. “It’s not as easy with a small dog because you’ll need to bend over more, which is why you and Lilly Ann should move to the back of the line.”

  B.J. was already at the back of our line, but I was second behind Dr. Morgan and Max. I stepped aside, and Monica Jill and I switched positions. I was now in third place.

  “Now.” Dixie took Snowball’s leash. She wrapped the leash around her hand to remove the slack, leaving just enough for the dog to sit comfortably by her leg. She reached in the treat bag she always wore around her waist and pulled out a small piece of what I knew was dried liver. The foul-smelling treat had Snowball’s ears standing up at attention and her eyes fixed on Dixie’s hand. Dixie bent over so she had the treat at the dog’s nose and then said, “Heel.”

  Dixie took a small step forward, and Snowball followed the treat like the Pied Piper. In that position, Dixie couldn’t walk quickly, but she and Snowball went about six feet. When Dixie stopped, she said, “Sit.” She positioned the treat so the dog’s butt immediately went down, and the instant it touched the ground, she gave her the treat and praised the dog. “Good girl.” She returned the leash to B.J.

  “Traitor.” B.J. stared at Snowball, who was too intent on licking up any crumbs that might have escaped and landed on the floor to care what her owner said.

  “Okay, now let’s all try it.”

  We spent almost the entire time working on heeli
ng, stopping, and then heeling again. By the end of class, my back was sore from bending over, but I was pleased at Aggie’s progress.

  Dixie always left time at the end of class to answer any questions we had.

  Dr. Morgan raised a hand. “Max does great here, but when we’re at the park, he couldn’t care less about listening, no matter what soul-selling treats I use.”

  Dixie made a point of instructing that we use really good treats when training our dogs. The treats needed to be good enough that our dogs would “sell their souls” to get them.

  She nodded. “Honestly, that’s normal because we’ve been practicing in an environment without distractions. It’s going to be hard for your dogs, who are all pretty young, to choose training when there are other dogs’ butts to sniff or squirrels to chase.”

  We chuckled.

  “However, in a week or so, once we know the dogs fully understand what we want, then we’ll make it harder by adding distractions. Eventually, your dog will understand what is expected and will be consistent, regardless of the environment.”

  I walked over to the bleachers where Monica Jill and B.J. were talking. “You still taking Jac to Pet Haven for doggie day care?” I asked.

  “Yes. Dixie recommended it. It’s been a lifesaver. He loves it.” She looked lovingly at her dog, who was trying to get Snowball to play with him. Unfortunately, the Westie was more interested in getting Max’s attention.

  “When he comes home from day care, he’s exhausted. Those are the only days I get rest from having to play ball with him.”

  He had a red ball in his mouth, and he was using every trick he knew to get Snowball’s attention.

  “I take Snowball to Pet Haven too.” B.J. yanked on the small dog’s leash to keep her from trying to hump the German shepherd. “Snowball, stop.” She pulled the dog away and looked at us sheepishly. “The little floozy has absolutely no shame in her game.”

  We laughed.

  “Speaking of floozies, I had to go out of town for work and I boarded Aggie at Pet Haven.”