4 Woof at the Door

by Leslie O'Kane

  “I came face to face with a purebred wolf a few minutes ago.”

  “Over at Hank’s place?”

  “You knew about that?”

  She nodded. “He told me about his plan to have white wolf-dog puppies.”

  While we spoke, I’d created a tasty-looking ensemble of a sandwich and took a seat. Beverly grabbed a huge handful of lettuce, wedged it between two slices of rye bread, and took the seat across from me. Beagle Boy attached more hopes to me and spillage from my meat combo than to his owner and her lettuce, and rested his chin on my feet.

  I was mildly surprised that both Ty and now Beverly knew about Hank’s wolf. After all, Hank had even hidden the wolf-handler’s van in the garage. Although, now that I thought about it, he probably did so to prevent Larry Cunriff from having to walk the wolf up Hank’s suburban sidewalk.

  Beverly took a bite of her lettuce sandwich and, in between noisy chomps, said, “That’s quite a wolf, isn’t it? Belongs to this guy, Damian Hesk, who has a ranch east of I-twenty-five. He’s got two other wolves, too.”

  “You know him?”

  “Oh, sure. I’ve even been to his house.”

  This news captured my full attention and I scooted to the edge of my seat, anticipating deserting my sandwich to jot down an address. “Where does he live?”

  “Quite a ways out east. He’s got hundreds of acres out there. I’ve got his card around here someplace. I’ll get it for you.” She left the room, but called from around the corner, “One Saturday a month, he does tours for small groups, and Hank set one up for his neighbors. So a whole batch of us went last month.”

  “Probably not Ty Bellingham, though. He and Hank probably avoid each other, right?”

  She returned with a business card, which I slipped into the breast pocket of my blouse. “Actually, they managed to set aside their differences long enough to both be there. Not that they spoke to each other. They didn’t come to blows, in any case, which is something of a triumph.”

  How odd. Ty had said that he’d been “dying to see the wolf in person,” and yet, apparently, he already had seen the wolf. “Does Damian own just wolves?”

  “No, he’s got a regular zoo license, just doesn’t have his place open to the public. He also has lions, tigers, and bears.”

  “Oh, my,” we said simultaneously, and chuckled.

  My envy at the thought of “hundreds of acres” to keep numerous animals was making me greener than my host’s sandwich. For now, all I could do was call Mr. Hesk and hope he’d be willing to show me his facility. Maybe he owned dogs, too, and I could work out some kind of a barter arrangement. It would be fascinating to see well-cared-for exotic animals, especially wolves.

  “Do you know this Damian well enough to call him now and introduce me to him over the phone?”

  She took another bite of lettuce and gave me an exaggerated shrug. “I guess. Thing is, though, he said he travels quite a bit on weekends, so I doubt he’s home. He has a—”

  She was interrupted by shouts from outside, in the direction of Ty’s house. A woman was screaming, “I’ll get you for this!”

  Another murder threat?!

  “Oh, crap.” Beverly dropped her sandwich on her paper plate and hopped to her feet. “It’s Paige Atkinson. That woman is not stable!” For some reason, Beverly not only leapt to attention, but charged out the door, leaving Beagle Boy yapping in her wake.

  From what I’d seen of the neighbors so far, if Beverly singled out only Mrs. Atkinson as “not stable,” the woman must be swinging from the trees. I followed Beverly out the front door.

  Ty and his wife were out on their front lawn, confronting Hank and a woman I took to be Hank’s wife, dressed in a peach-colored tailored suit. She grabbed a handful of Ty’s long blond hair. In the blink of an eye, she had yanked the wig off Ty’s and proceeded to whip him with it.

  “Paige! Stop!” Beverly yelled.

  At the sound of Beverly’s outcry, Hank’s wife froze. With Ty still cowering, hunched over to protect himself, Paige turned in our direction.

  “You!” she cried, pointing at Beverly. “You whore! Get out of my sight!”

  It was all I could do to keep silent rather than speak up on my friend’s behalf, but she gave me a slight headshake, so I bit my lip. Meanwhile, Paige threw Ty’s hairpiece onto the ground and whirled back around to face Ty. “We’re going to sue you for every last lava lamp you own! Then we’re going to have that rotten dog of yours neutered, whether you like it or not!”

  “You’ll touch Doobie over my dead body!” Ty yelled. He glanced back at his house, where Doobie’s muffled barks were rattling the window.

  “Suit yourself!” Paige marched back to the sidewalk, nose in the air.

  During all of this, Hank was merely watching his wife assault their neighbor and didn’t raise a finger to stop her.

  Cheshire, too, had remained a passive audience, but now that the fight was over, she sauntered to Ty’s side. “Wow, man. She was like, totally whacked. Are you all right, babe?”

  “Fine.” He looked much better without his wig. In fact, if he were in normal attire, he might even be a handsome man. Ty retrieved the silly looking hairpiece and slapped it back on his head. His cheeks were bright red and his expression was one of barely suppressed rage. “Show’s over, everyone.” He re-centered the wig, which I couldn’t help but notice had the peace headband sewed on as a permanent attachment, then he stormed inside his house.

  Chesh looked back over at us, flashed us the peace sign, and followed her husband inside.

  Hank, meanwhile, tried to throw his arm around his wife, who shoved him aside and marched ahead of him. “I told you this whole idea of breeding Sammy to a wolf was stupid!” she snarled at him. “Now look what you made me do!”

  Ty came back out onto the porch, holding a snarling and all-but-rabid-acting Doobie by the collar. “Hey, Hank! You and your wife ever ambush me like that again, and you’re dog meat!”

  Chapter 4

  Paying no attention to Beverly or me, Ty pulled his dog back inside and slammed his door. Still only halfway to their own house, Hank and his wife froze. Hank’s face had paled such that it lost most of its tan. He smoothed his mustache, staring after Ty, then met my eyes and pointed at me. “You’re my witness.” He and Paige walked home, the swagger now absent from Hank’s gait.

  My stomach fell. I had visions of my business going up in smoke, the spoils of war between the neglectful owners of a Samoyed and that of a former stray, egged into being dangerous so that his owner could feel like a big man.

  I looked at Beverly, expecting her to voice her reaction to her neighbors’ bizarre behavior. Her cheeks had colored, but she turned away without another word and headed back inside her home. I trotted after her. She held the door for me, but then merely reclaimed her seat and continued to eat her lettuce sandwich as if nothing had happened.

  I followed Beverly’s lead and resumed eating my lunch, but my stomach remained in knots. I mentally paged back through all the conversations I’d had with Beverly since I’d returned to Colorado five months ago. All she’d ever said about her neighbors was that their dogs’ barking had become a major nuisance. I could maybe see her not mentioning to me that these people had peculiar tastes in apparel and furnishings. Perhaps neglecting to mention that they and their other neighbors were in the habit of threatening to kill one another. However, I was utterly perplexed as to why Beverly never thought to say, “Oh, by the way. One of my neighbors tends to refer to me as a whore. Pay her no mind. She’s a little unstable. Also, this dog that you’re about to work with is being trained as a man-eater, so you might need to be careful.”

  “You and Paige Atkinson don’t get along?” I asked as casually as I could.

  Beverly shrugged. “She’s obsessively jealous and can’t stand the fact that her husband’s living near an unmarried woman. She assumes that every woman who exchanges a friendly word with a man is trying to get him into the sack.”

/>   “Why do you allow her to treat you that way, without so much as a word of protest?”

  Again, she shrugged and did not meet my gaze. “I feel sorry for her. Imagine what a horrible life she must have to be incapable of believing men and women can even be friendly acquaintances, let alone friends. She’s just not worth the effort.”

  “And yet she was worth the effort to rush outside and try to break up a fight between her and your six-foot-tall male neighbor?”

  Once again, Beverly’s cheeks reddened. She pushed a stray lock of reddish-blond hair away from her forehead. “She’s crazy, and there’s so much bad blood between her and Ty, I’m always afraid it’s going to…splatter over onto me.”

  I grimaced at the image her words brought to mind. Although her explanation made some sense, it struck me as only a partial truth. She’d felt no need to intercede when she heard Hank and Ty shouting at one another. Maybe guilt had motivated her into action during Paige’s outburst. Beverly was well aware of how attractive she was and had been something of a flirt in high school. Perhaps Paige’s jealousy was not without cause. She’d been divorced for five years now and claimed that she’d sworn off marriage, but not men.

  “Beverly, I have a certain liability here. As Hank Atkinson put it, I witnessed Ty threatening to let his dog attack Hank. And as a dog behaviorist, I’m in a position to know how dangerous a—”

  Beverly was already shaking her head. “Ty is all bark and no bite. He’d never actually sic Doobie on anyone. I got to know him somewhat when I was doing his kitchen.”

  “You remodeled his kitchen?”

  Nodding, she polished off the last of her lettuce sandwich. “That was a tough job. Try getting all-modern appliances in an avocado color these days. And, see, since their divorce—”

  “Since whose divorce?”

  “Paige’s and Ty’s.” Her eyes widened as she looked at me. “Didn’t I tell you?”

  I shook my head. “Obviously, that piece of information would have stuck with me.”

  She blinked a couple of times, letting this omission of hers register. “No wonder you’re so confused. Their hatred toward one another must have seemed completely nutty, without knowing that they used to be married.”

  Apparently, one should come to expect “nutty” behavior from former spouses. “So Paige used to be Ty’s wife, and then she remarried and moved right next door to her ex?”

  “Hank and his first wife got a divorce a few years back. She got the kids and their vacation house up in Vail. He got the house in Boulder. And, I guess, when he and Paige decided to marry, he wanted to stay put.”

  That must be the “personal history” that Ty had referred to as unrelated to four-legged dogs. “No wonder the two men don’t get along.” It also went a long way toward explaining why Paige Atkinson was willing to beat Ty Bellingham over the head with his hairpiece, ostensibly all because of a pregnant dog. “So, you felt you needed to defend Ty from his ex-wife? Why?”

  She pursed her lips and said nothing.

  “Beverly, it feels to me like you’re sitting on top of a powder keg here. While I was standing right next to him, Hank threatened to kill Ty. And we both heard Ty’s threats toward Hank just now. What if you’re wrong about Ty’s making good on his words?”

  “I’m not,” she said firmly, refilling her iced tea. She winced a little as she set down the glass pitcher, then massaged her shoulder through the fabric of her Indian-print dress. “Ty Bellingham talks before he thinks. We’ve had our share of problems in the six years we’ve lived next door to each other, not to mention the arguments that erupted when I was doing his remodeling. But believe me, Allida, Ty loves Doobie more than anything. He’d never risk letting his dog bite someone and wind up getting put to sleep.”

  I wished I could share my friend’s confidence on that last point, but what I’d seen so far of Ty Bellingham told me she was giving him too much credit for self-control. “If Ty does sic that dog of his on Hank, somebody’s going to get very badly hurt. Personally, I don’t want to get caught in the middle, and I don’t want you to be, either.”

  She reached over and patted my hand. “This will all blow over, eventually.”

  “Maybe, but so do tornadoes, and they do a lot of damage in the process.”

  Beverly made no comment. Why was I having such a hard time getting through to her? She was staring forlornly at the wall in the direction of Ty’s house. A worry popped into my head, which I hoped was unfounded: Was she in love with Ty Bellingham and blind to his glaring faults?

  “Have you been dating anyone lately?” I asked.

  She chuckled and batted her eyes. “No, why? Got any guys in mind for me?” She leaned back in her chair. “Actually, I just gave you the number of the best-looking eligible man I’ve met in ages.”

  It took me a moment to decipher this statement. “Damian Hesk?”

  She nodded. “I did some of my very best flirting with that man, but he showed no interest. Apparently he’s only attracted to furry four-leggers.”

  Just then, somebody opened the front door without knocking. A female voice called, “You ready to go, Bev?”

  Beverly pushed back from the table and hopped to her feet. “Oh, shoot. I lost track of the time. Come on in, Rebecca.”

  A pretty woman entered, the lines in her face and freckles indicating too much time spent in the sun. She wore dust-covered overalls and a T-shirt, her long, wavy brown hair pulled into a pony tail. Her pleasant features were unadorned with makeup. She clicked her tongue when she saw Beverly. “You’re not even dressed, yet.”

  Feeling awkward at being the only one still seated, I wiped my hands on my napkin and got to my feet. I had the feeling that Rebecca’s arrival meant lunch was over.

  “I know,” Beverly replied. “Our lunch got interrupted by a fracas next door.”

  Her features tightened. “At Bellingham’s?” Without waiting for an answer she muttered under her breath, “I hate that guy.”

  A pained expression passed across Beverly’s features. “This is Allie Babcock.” She swept her hand in the direction of her new guest. “This is my business partner, Rebecca Henders.”

  She gave me a big smile and shook my hand, her own surprisingly strong. Her nails were so short they must have been chewed off. “You’re that dog psychologist Beverly told me was going to be working with the shitheads in her neighborhood.”

  “Rebecca!” Beverly scolded.

  Her smile fading, Rebecca turned to Beverly and said, “But that’s exactly what they are. That Ty Bellingham is an abusive bastard. He treats his wife worse than his dog. And after what he—”

  “Rebecca!” Beverly said again under her breath, casting a sideways glance my way.

  She stopped abruptly and gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I need to keep my opinions about these things to myself.”

  “About what things?” I asked.

  Rebecca furrowed her brow, then looked at Beverly, and said with a shrug, “About other people’s obnoxious neighbors.” Her cheeks colored and she stepped back. “Listen, Bev, I’m gonna go wait for you in the truck. It was nice meeting you, Allie.”

  “Nice meeting you, too,” I replied, puzzled. The unpleasant thought that my old friend might have set me up somehow were starting to tug at me. I watched Rebecca leave, then immediately turned to Beverly, who was already well into the process of clearing the table. “Beverly, is it my imagination, or was she about to accidentally blurt out something you didn’t want me to hear?”

  Beverly flinched ever so slightly and turned back to face me, her arms full of sandwich supplies. “It’s nothing personal,” she said gently. With a slight toss of her head, she indicated I was to follow her into the kitchen, and she led the way into a room of cherry, slate, and brass that could shame the kitchen of a five-star restaurant.

  “Ty and Rebecca had some serious disagreements over the quality of her work on his kitchen project,” she explained. “I wound up having to redo the job at
no charge. It causes nothing but friction whenever Rebecca insists on bringing the subject up.” She stashed the food in the refrigerator, then turned to face me and gave me a sad smile. “I’ve got to go change into my work clothes. Allida, I’m so sorry. I don’t normally work on Saturdays, but we ran past our completion date on one job, and if we don’t finish it now, we’ll be late starting the next one, and on it goes. One big line of uncompleted dominoes.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. I’ve got another house call to make myself.” Which was true, but did nothing to address the bigger problem here; thanks to Beverly’s referral I’d found myself with a hornet’s nest firmly planted on one foot.

  She walked me to the door. I stopped and searched Beverly’s features. What I saw there was simply the face of someone I truly liked. She probably did have a “thing” for Ty Bellingham, hard as that was to understand. But that really didn’t affect me. If there was anything seriously amiss between her and the Bellinghams, Ty would never have taken Beverly’s suggestion to hire me. That is, not unless he was so intent on getting revenge against her, he wanted his dog to eat her friend alive. But that was just being downright paranoid.

  “Thanks so much for lunch, Bev.”

  She smiled. “We’ll have to do this more often, now that you’re going to be in the neighborhood anyway.”

  And a fine neighborhood it was, I thought sourly. “Thanks also for the referral. At least, I guess I should be thanking you.”

  Her typical friendliness returning, she gave me a hug. “See you tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “At softball. You are coming, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely.” Witnessing these altercations today had affected my mental calendar; I was normally reliable, not scatterbrained about my commitments. With just a couple of weeks left in the season, our team was undefeated, which was saying something. Softball was popular in Boulder and quite competitive.

  Beverly opened the door for me. “Don’t worry, Allie. My neighbors have their minor eccentricities, but are perfectly harmless.”