Kneading to Die

by Liz Mugavero

  Her brain kicked into action. This was, on some level, like the CEO problem she’d faced at Warner. Like her former president, Gene had done a bad thing and she had to make up a good story out of it. If she could get him to believe her, she might be able to get out of this.

  She didn’t want to think about how she’d gotten fired for failing last time. Hands in front of her, she stood firm. “Carole took advantage of you, didn’t she, Gene? What happened that day? Tell me so I can help you tell your story.”

  “‘Help’? What help? I don’t need no story. They’re gonna say what they’re gonna say anyway. Won’t matter that I didn’t mean ta do it. She just made me so mad, and that damn needle was in her hand … . how was I s’posed ta know what was in it would kill her?” Gene’s eyes flared at the memory, and he refocused on Stan. “It don’t matter. We just gotta get you outta the way, then me and my boy’ll be fine. We’ll get outta this town and go live the life we never got to live.” Adoration filled his gaze as he watched the boy, still struggling with Diane’s weight.

  “What kind of life were you supposed to live, Gene?” Stan glanced at the boy, who took great care to tuck Diane’s legs and arms in the right position. Almost like she was being laid out for a viewing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dog leash hanging from one of the chain-link runs behind her. She inched back, half a step at a time. The kid was the wild card, but she’d have to take her chances.

  “We never got the chance to find out! That rotten mother of his kept him from me! His whole life. I missed everything.” Hysteria blurred the edges of his voice. His hands shook as he tried to wipe his eyes. “Until now.”

  She moved fast. Took two steps left, grabbed the leash, wrapped it around her hand. Made sure the metal piece that clipped on the collar was at the other end. She leaped forward, using the leash like a whip, hearing a satisfying clang as it connected with the knife. Gene bellowed as his knife clattered to the cement floor. She dove for it, praying the kid wasn’t diving for her. Her hand closed around the blade itself and she felt it slice into her palm, but she hung on and bolted for the door. Cursing the gravel that cut her feet, she yanked her keys out of her pocket. And stopped in front of her car.

  The driver’s-side front and back tires were slashed, leaving her car at a lopsided angle. With no means of escape.

  “Run somewhere!” the voice in her head screamed.

  But where? The park was just as scary, and Gene had the home court advantage. She may have gotten his knife, but he probably had others.

  His truck. If the universe was on her side, it would be open and the keys would be in it. She whirled and ran to it, yanked the door handle. Locked. She slammed her hand against the door, spattering blood. Cursed at the pain that shot through her hand. Now what?

  The barking increased as the dogs out back worked themselves into a frenzy. And then she remembered. The boy was afraid of dogs. Even Gene’s mild-mannered pooch, he’d told her once. If her pursuers came face-to-face with a yard filled with pit bulls …

  Gene appeared on the step, shouting something she couldn’t make out. Stan dropped against the side of the truck and peered around. When he turned to shout something else to the boy, she made her move.

  Stan sprinted back to the building and pressed flat against the concrete, inching around to the gate leading to the dog area. She heard Gene’s awkward shuffle as he pursued her, dragging his bad leg. She hoped the boy was with him. As she got closer, the dogs got louder. She unlocked the gate and dove in. Hit the ground and rolled into a crouch. A stampede of rushing paws came at her. She braced herself, channeling her grandmother with all the strength she had. If there was ever a time she needed the abilities of an animal whisperer, it was now. The dogs’ breath grew hotter as they approached, panting, excited, finally getting to be part of whatever action they had been hearing.

  Then Stan felt a sloppy tongue on her face. Not teeth. She opened her eyes to see a massive pit bull face in front of hers. The brown dog. The leader. Henry. He remembered her, or maybe it was her treats. Whatever the reason, the dog kissed her again and charged out of the gate, his pals all behind him. A canine SWAT team. Her heart swelled with gratitude. Now she could get to her phone and call for help.

  “Go get ’em, guys,” she whispered, and ran to the gate. They followed her as if they had understood and took off around the corner, right into the building, their barking a cacophony of reproach.

  Stan raced out of the pen to her car. She fumbled her way inside, dug around in her purse and found her phone. Called 911 and relayed as much of the story as she could; then she ran back inside, stopping short in amazement.

  Her friends had done their job. Gene and Russ/Adam were in one of the empty dog runs; the boy was crying and shaking. Gene attempted to quiet him. The dogs waited in a semicircle around the door, barking and growling like any good watchdog would do. In the corner Diane had struggled to a sitting position, holding her head. Stan ran to her.

  “Are you okay? I called for help. You should stay there. You might have a concussion.”

  Diane looked at Stan. Her face was pale, her eyes black. She took in the dogs and their captives. Stan’s torn suit, her bare feet and bloody hand. She slumped back and shook her head, wincing. “You get here and this town goes straight to hell,” she muttered.

  Two state police cars blared into the parking lot, lights flashing. Stan ran outside and threw up her arms, waving frantically as they rushed in. Lou led the pack.

  “Wait! Don’t scare the dogs. Everything’s under control,” she called.

  Lou drew up short at the maniacal barking coming from behind her. “Doesn’t sound like it’s under control!” But he held up a hand behind him, warning his fellow officers to hang back.

  “Carole’s killer is in here. The dogs have him cornered,” she said. “Cover the back end of the dog run. I’ll put the dogs back in their pens.”

  “You will?” Lou looked doubtful, peering over her shoulder.

  “Yes. Just get ready to arrest them, will you? And take this.”

  She handed Gene’s knife to Lou, still covered in her blood from the cut on her hand.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Lou looked like he didn’t believe her, but he used a napkin from his pocket to pick up the weapon. Stan heard him tell one of the other troopers to call an ambulance.

  She used the treats Diane kept on her desk to tear the dogs away from their prey and get them into their runs. They weren’t as effective as Stan’s treats, but the dogs were more than willing to eat them, anyway. Once they were safely locked up, Lou and his sidekicks swarmed in and pulled Gene and Russ out of the dog run. Lou handed them off to his fellow officers and turned to Stan.

  “Your hand is bleeding. You should go to the hospital.”

  Stan looked down at her hand. It was a superficial slice. She hoped. She took off her suit jacket and tied one arm around her hand.

  Lou gaped at her. “You’re gonna ruin that.”

  “It’s fine. Take care of Diane first.”

  “The EMTs are here,” Lou said. Two guys came in with a stretcher and went to Diane.

  “Wait!” Stan said, remembering why she’d come to the pound in the first place. She went over to where they were loading Diane onto the stretcher. “Where’s Scruffy?”

  Diane looked pained. “He made me call and leave you that message, before he bashed me over the head. I don’t have her. I’m sorry.”

  That was enough to take the elation out of knowing the murderer was behind bars. Stan blinked back tears and turned away. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “You all right?” Lou asked. “Other than that hand?”

  She shrugged.

  “You lose your shoes?”

  Stan had almost forgotten about her bare feet. “I think it’s safe to say this whole outfit is a loss. I can’t wait to throw it away.”

  Lou shook his head. “C’mon, I’ll drive you to the hosp
ital. We’ll get that hand stitched up.”

  Chapter 29

  “I had to keep it quiet. Otherwise, the whole thing would’ve been blown.”

  Nikki and Stan sat in Izzy Sweet’s Sweets drinking iced lattes. Scruffy was curled up at Stan’s feet. The dog rarely left her side after Lou rescued her from Gene’s house after his arrest and Stan had officially adopted her. It was two weeks to the day after Carole’s murder, less than a week since Stan’s escapades at the Frog Ledge Dog Pound. The shop was filled with people. More locals, Stan noticed. Maybe the good word was spreading.

  “A puppy mill sting operation. Who would’ve guessed?” Stan shook her head. Nikki’s silence and suspicious actions hadn’t had anything to do with Carole Morganwick. Instead, Nikki, Diane Kirschbaum and Perri Galveston had been working to take down a horrible puppy mill right here in Frog Ledge. The owners were breeding pit bulls and selling them to known dogfighting offenders. It still bothered Stan that Nikki had been so secretive with her, but at least it had been a noble cause.

  “So you knew the woman we busted?” Nikki asked.

  “Mrs. Graham.” Stan shook her head. “I met her at the farmers’ market. I should’ve known from her winning personality.”

  “And her stinkin’ son,” Izzy said, slapping a tray of pastries in front of them. Junior, Gene’s dog, followed at her heels. He’d gone to live with Izzy, Bax and Elvira while his owner awaited his fate. “Boy, do they steam my broccoli.”

  “‘Steam my broccoli’?” Stan giggled. “I’ve never heard that. Sorry.” She sobered at Izzy’s dirty look. “Come sit, Izzy.”

  “Her son—Thurman, how’s that for a pretentious piece of scum?—was the ringleader, but she happily took the profits. It was an awful place. A couple of those dogs in the pound were hers. Amazing how friendly, right? The big brown one Diane saved by having a kid pretend to buy him for fighting, so we could be sure.” Nikki picked up a warm chocolate chip cookie and took a bite. “This is amazing.”

  “Those dogs were awesome. I was thinking of adopting Henry, the brown one. I swear he saved my life.”

  “You should adopt him. Scruffy needs a playmate.” Izzy reached down and ruffled Scruffy’s curly hair, earning a lick on the hand from the schnoodle. “Those people are scum. They should rot in jail. Thank you for stopping them, Nikki. Free coffee forever!” Izzy pushed the plate over. “And cookies, of course.”

  “We’ll have to see what happens. They seized the rest of the dogs and filed charges. That’s all we can do right now.” Nikki licked her fingers. “I can’t believe you thought I was a killer, Stan. Jeez! It’s kind of flattering, though.”

  “‘Flattering’? You idiot. What was I supposed to think? You were acting weird. And plotting with Diane. I was just wrong on what you were plotting.”

  “So it was Carole’s scorned lover. What a shocker!” Nikki shook her head. “These guys are such clichés.”

  “Yeah, but what he did to that child.” Izzy shook her head. “Tragic. And the boy was already a mess. He built that explosive, you know. The one that destroyed Carole’s clinic and hurt Trooper Pasquale. Some kind of homemade bomb that worked pretty well, I’d say.”

  Stan nodded. Cyril had been putting out daily editions of the Holler as the story unraveled. He’d gotten a lot of the details from Carole’s brother. “That’s why Carole had left town. She knew her son had problems, even when he was a kid. And Gene was married, so she’d never told him about the baby.”

  Stan tried to remember all the details that had broken loose like a tidal wave after Gene’s arrest. Carole’s brother had actively tried to get help for his nephew in the early days. But the boy’s mental illness had been a constant struggle, until he couldn’t keep up with it anymore. Eventually Carole shut him out and disappeared with the boy. She’d kept her married name, Cross, until returning to Frog Ledge a few years ago.

  “So he got in trouble and she figured his real father was her last hope to get him some help?” Izzy sighed when Stan nodded.

  “But he didn’t take the news so well.”

  “What happened to the kid, now that he’s in jail?” Nikki asked.

  “Hospitalized while they figure out what’s wrong with him and what to do about it.”

  The three women were silent, pondering that. Through the window Stan saw Jake outside. Duncan was on a leash today, sitting on the sidewalk while Jake talked with someone. She was happy to see both of them, even if it was through a window. She had some meals for Duncan in her bag. When she was done with her friends, she’d go see them.

  “Well, at least you’re off the hook for the murder,” Nikki said. “And you’re really over corporate America? I’m still reeling from that.”

  “I told you, I turned the job down.” Stan smiled. Bernadette had been shocked.

  “Get out,” Izzy said.

  “Never thought I’d see the day,” Nikki said.

  “I expected that from Nikki, not you,” Stan said to Izzy. “Why are you so surprised? You barely know me.”

  “Honey, I’m observant. You seemed lost when you got here.”

  Izzy was right. It had been just over two weeks since Stan showed up in town. She had been adrift and trying to hide it until she could get back what she thought was her identity. Today she felt like a different person—a person who didn’t belong in corporate America. She would stop groveling at their feet for them to take her back.

  She was ready for a new identity.

  “Well, congratulations. About time. And you got rid of the corporate jerk of a boyfriend, too. That’s even better.” Nikki high-fived her.

  Stan hadn’t talked to Richard since the ill-fated night she’d caught him with Michelle. He hadn’t called, either, which she found telling. And sad. But liberating, too. It was truly a new day. Theme song: “We Are Never Getting Back Together.”

  “Guess what else I did.” Stan leaned forward, elbows on the table, and grinned. She felt light, free, like a kid telling secrets with her friends. “I told Sheldon Allyn to stuff it.”

  “You what!” Nikki squealed.

  “I did.” Stan sat back, proud of herself. “He heard about Cyril’s story about the poisoned dogs and took his offer back. Then he changed his mind back when everyone realized no one was poisoning dogs, least of all me. But it’s too little, too late, in my mind.”

  Izzy dropped her head into her palm. Nikki looked devastated.

  “What was the real story about the dogs?” Izzy asked. “I’m still afraid to put Bax and Elvira out in the backyard.”

  “Didn’t you read Cyril’s story?” Stan pulled it out of her bag. She’d been keeping it with her as proof since he’d printed it three days ago, exonerating her of the alleged poisonings. Duncan had literally eaten himself sick when he’d discovered a truckload of rotting food a local cafe had thrown out during his trip to Stan’s house that morning. And Mrs. Graham had lied about one of her dogs being sick after hearing about Duncan, mostly to divert the heat coming down on her own head. Phineas Dobbins’ mother had panicked when she’d put the rumors together with a tummy ache the dog was suffering from. He’d since gotten the all clear from the emergency vet. No conspiracy theory. And no dog murderer. All was well in Frog Ledge again.

  “Do you have any idea the PR ops for Pets’ Last Chance you just destroyed by turning down Sheldon Allyn?” Nikki demanded, but she smiled.

  Stan spread her hands. “Sorry, but I don’t care. I’m done working for other people.”

  “So what’s the plan, Stan?” Nikki grinned. “I love when I get to say that.”

  “I’ll cook for animals, but I’ll do it my way.” She already had a name for her new business: Pawsitively Organic Gourmet Pet Food. And one recurring customer: Char and Ray’s dog, Savannah. They had never wavered in their support of Stan, despite the ugly rumors, and Stan had no doubt they’d have other customers flocking to her door in no time.

  Izzy looked impressed. “So tell us about it. And sign me up for weekly tr
eats!”

  “You’re already on the list. I haven’t nailed down exactly what the business will look like yet, but I’ll figure it out.” She smiled. “I’ve got time.”

  Kneading to Die Recipes

  Stan’s Apple-Cinnamon Appetizers for Dogs and Cats

  1 large Macintosh apple

  1/4 cup organic raw honey

  1/2 cup of water

  1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

  1 cup organic rolled oats

  1-1/2 cups spelt flour

  1/8 cup spelt flour

  Directions:

  Preheat oven to 350° F (180° C).

  Core, slice and mince the apple (or use a food processor). In a large bowl, combine the apple bits, honey, water, cinnamon, and oats. Gradually blend in the 1-1/2 cups flour, adding enough to form a stiff dough.

  In a small bowl, add the 1/8 cup flour. Spoon the dough by rounded teaspoon onto ungreased baking sheets, spacing about 2 inches (5 cm) apart. Using the bottom of a glass dipped in flour (to prevent sticking), flatten each spoonful of dough into a circle—or make them into your pet’s favorite shape. Make them as large or small as you choose.

  Bake for 30 minutes. Remove from the oven and flip each cookie to brown evenly on both sides. Reduce oven temperature to 325° F (180° C). Return to the oven and bake for an additional 30 minutes. Cool before serving.

  Makes about 3 dozen. Freeze a portion for later.

  Nutty’s Cheese-y Treats

  3/4 cup shredded or grated cheddar cheese

  3/4 cup organic spelt flour

  1/4 cup plain Greek yogurt

  1/4 cup organic polenta

  5 tbsp. grated parmesan cheese or parmesan-flavored

  rice topping

  Preheat oven to 350 and prepare a cookie sheet with organic cooking spray. Combine all ingredients in a bowl and add water if too dry. Knead the dough into a ball, roll it out to 1/4 inch. Cut into 1-2 inch pieces and bake for 25 minutes.