4 Woof at the Door

by Leslie O'Kane

  I called Russell’s office number on the off chance that he’d returned at some point in the afternoon. He answered, and to my chagrin, just the gentle tone of his voice pushed me over the edge and I burst into tears.

  “Allida?”

  I managed to control myself enough to mutter, “Oh, Russell. Beverly’s dead. Somebody killed her. I need you to—”

  “What? Did you say Beverly Wood is dead?”

  “Yes.” I battled my emotions enough to force my voice to work. “I need you to find my appointment book. I think it’s in the kneehole drawer of my desk. I’ve got two appointments, I think. Probably already missed them. Please call them and tell them I’ll reschedule.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Home. At my mother’s house. But I’m okay. I’m just…” I let my voice fade, losing interest in whatever line I’d intended to pass off as the truth. I wasn’t okay. At the moment, it was all I could do to hold my head up.

  “Is your mother there?”

  “No. She’s…she must still be at the airport or with a student.”

  “Allie, whether you want me to or not, I’m coming over. After I reschedule your appointments.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry to ask you to do this.”

  “I don’t mind. See you soon.” He hung up.

  I indulged myself in another minute’s worth of tears, then went out into the backyard, throwing sticks for the dogs. That horrid image of Pavlov as a charging wolf wasn’t gone, but I was too numb now to care.

  Something weird started to happened. It was at last eighty degrees outside, but I was shaking and freezing. It was as if my body was shutting down. I could hear what was happening all around me, but I couldn’t move. I sat shivering on the bottom step of the deck, hugging my knees to my chest.

  The dogs soon sensed my distress. Pavlov came and lay by my feet, Sage on the step above me, his body pressed against me back, and Dobbler beside me. The dogs leapt up at the sound of the doorbell, but I was still in this position as Russell came around through the gate when I didn’t answer.

  Russell knelt, peered into my eyes, and said gently, “Allida, sweetie, you’re in shock. I can’t carry you with my arm in a sling.” He grabbed my uninjured right hand with his left and pulled me to my feet. He put his good arm around me and led me inside and into my room. He pulled down the blankets and top sheet on my bed and I kicked off my shoes and lay down, feeling exhausted.

  Still fully dressed himself, Russell pulled the covers over me and lay down on my bed beside me and warmed me with his body.

  My teeth were chattering. “Bet when you wanted to go bed with me, this wasn’t what you had in mind.”

  He kissed me on the forehead and murmured, “I also imagined if I made you tremble, it would be a good thing.”

  I slowly felt some warmth returning to me. I lay still, staring at the familiar ceiling, tears running unabated down my temples and into my pillow. “This was my room when I was a child. When my father died, I lost track of how many times I’d send my mom to check for monsters in the closet. But she’d always check. She’d never complain; she’d just tell me that there was no such thing as monsters. Finally, she gave me a spray can, which she told me was monster repellant. I’d spray that in my closet and under my bed before I got into bed. The kids in my kindergarten class probably wondered why my clothes always smelled funny. I figured out that it was Lysol Disinfectant by first grade. It took me much longer to realize that there really are monsters in this world. And they are us.”

  Russell hugged me.

  I closed my eyes and slept for what felt like hours. When I awoke, it was dark outside. Russell was gone. Feeling groggy, I arose and shuffled my way into the living room.

  I overheard Mom’s voice in the kitchen, but hesitated at the serious tone. Something horrible had to have happened for her to be having such sorrow in her voice.

  I wasn’t sure who she was talking to, but she was saying, “…my fault, in a way. After her father died, I had no desire to meet another man. I just plowed ahead, doing the best job I could of raising my children alone. She hasn’t ever had a man to depend on, and the one time she trusted someone, he turned out to be a total bastard. But all of her experiences with dogs were the exact opposite. It’s like she can read their minds, and they hers. I wish there was something I could do to make her see what she’s got in you.”

  “Don’t pressure her, Mrs. Babcock.”

  It was Russell’s voice. My mother was discussing my deficiencies with my boyfriend!

  “She feels what she feels,” he continued. “You can’t force her to love me anymore than she can force herself.”

  What a sweet man! So kind and loving. If what I feel for him is anything less than love, surely this was close enough.

  Unwilling to hang out in the living room pretending I hadn’t overheard, I intentionally stepped onto the squeaky floorboard, entered the kitchen, and forced a smile. Russell and my mother were sitting across the counter from one another, drinking lemonade.

  “Talking about me, huh?” My smile turned genuine when I gazed at Russell, whose face was a picture of loving concern.

  “Hi, hon,” Mom said, looking only slightly embarrassed.

  The phone rang. I answered.

  “This is Paige Atkinson. Is this Allida Babcock?”

  “Yes, it is.” She must have heard about Beverly Wood, I thought, and was calling to feign sympathy.

  “Sammy is missing. Can you help us find her?”

  Her dog. She was worried about her dog. “No. Not right now.” I sighed and rubbed my forehead, ignoring my bandages in the process. “Have you asked Hank? Maybe she’s with—”

  “Hank’s right here. We don’t know where she could be. Sammy’s so heavy now, she can barely walk! Where could she be?”

  “Did you make a whelping box for her?”

  “Whelping box?”

  “Yes! You’re trying to breed your dog. You should know what the word ’whelp’ means. She might be off trying to find a place to give birth to her puppies. Was she inside the house when you last saw her?”

  “I don’t know. Everything was so hectic for a while. Police officers are all over the place. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Allida, but something terrible happened to Beverly.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “I asked the police if our dog was over there, but they hadn’t seen Sammy either. We’ve checked everywhere. She must have been stolen. Oh, please, Allida. You’ve got to help us find our dog.”

  What would they do when they found her? Wrench the puppies away because they weren’t white wolf pups? Damn it! I wanted to stay here with Russell! If only I wasn’t afraid that my refusing to help would put Sammy and her puppies at risk.

  I set my jaw and said, “All right. But this time if there is the slightest possibility that there are any wolves running around loose, you call the police, you do not wait for me. Got that?”

  “We will. I promise.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour. In the meantime, look for low, secluded places, such as under your deck.” I hung up.

  Both my mother and Russell were staring at me with matching expressions of annoyance. Mom said sternly, “Allida, you just discovered your friend’s body. Three hours later, you’re going to help somebody look for their missing dog?”

  “The dog’s probably giving birth, and her owners are idiots. I don’t trust those people to oversee the whelping. They’re the sort that might bury the puppies and keep the afterbirth.”

  “They can’t be that stupid,” Mom said.

  “No, but they are that untrustworthy. These are going to be mixed puppies that the owners didn’t want their dog to have in the first place.”

  “I’d better be going,” Russell said, getting off the kitchen stool.

  “Can you come with me? Please? There’s something I need to say.”

  He smiled. “Sure. To tell the truth, I’ll feel better knowing you’re not alone, after
what you just went through. I’ll even help you look for your lost dog.” A look of alarm flashed across his features as he glanced at the clock above the stove. “I’m supposed to be at a client’s office. We’d better take separate cars.” He stopped at the door and said, “Goodbye, Mrs. Babcock. Thank you.”

  We walked out to our cars side by side. He surreptitiously glanced at his watch, his brow furrowed.

  “Is this client appointment something you can reschedule?” I asked.

  “Sure. It’s nothing important.” He gave me a smile, but his words and nervous mannerisms left me unconvinced. “Remember I’m going to be following, so don’t run any red lights.” He opened the door of my car for me.

  “Russell, you don’t need to come with me. I’m just going to help these people—” It suddenly dawned on me that Paige had said Hank was helping her look for the dog. No way was I willing to have Russell accompany me to Hank Atkinson’s home, considering how badly he’d injured Russell last night. “I’m just going to find the dog and then come straight home afterwards. You go ahead and meet with your client, and we’ll get together later today.”

  He searched my eyes, and seemed to find whatever sincerity or confidence he was seeking, because he nodded. “If you’re sure you’ll be all right.”

  “I will be.”

  “You…said you had something you needed to say to me?”

  I gave him a passionate kiss, then said, “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “I’m not sure what you’re thanking me for, exactly, but you’re welcome.”

  As much as I wanted to augment the conversation with an “I love you,” the words wouldn’t come. And Russell wasn’t going to prolong this sweet agony any longer. He got in his car, which was blocking mine in the driveway, and drove off.

  As I rounded the Atkinsons’ corner lot, I peered through this side of the fence opposite the Bellinghams’ property. Here the Atkinson’s privacy fence gave way to split rail and wire mesh, and I spotted Hank leaning against a tree, watching Paige who was kneeling on the grass, a short distance away. I came through the gate, rather than ringing their doorbell.

  Hank straightened and looked at me. “Oh, good. You’re here. Now maybe I can get going. Paige wanted me to keep her company, but I’m meeting some of the guys for softball practice.”

  “I take it, then, you found Sammy?”

  He pointed at the stack of logs in front of Paige. The Atkinsons’ dog had built an intricate den underneath the log pile by the side of the house. Sammy was nursing six brown-and-white puppies.

  “This is quite a den,” I said as I looked at it. “There’s even a back entrance. Sammy must have been working on this for quite a while. Didn’t you know it was here?”

  “Nope. There’s a back entrance?” Hank said. “Hope she didn’t dig up any of the….” He knelt and looked inside. “What’s that? It’s too big for another puppy.”

  I joined him and saw a familiar-looking pointed muzzle. “Come here, boy,” I called, “Come on.”

  Another dog came out of the den. It was Beagle Boy. I now had a vague memory of letting him out through the back door before the police came to Beverly’s house. I’d lost track of him after that.

  “How did he get in here?” Hank asked testily. “I thought I saw a tunnel under the fence, but it was too small for Doobie or for Sammy. He must have cut through Bellingham’s lawn.”

  “The puppies are smaller than I thought they’d be,” Paige said, looking in the front of the den. They’d probably been so worried about how to handle their nursing dog that they didn’t even look this close till now. “Also darker. They have such narrow bodies. They look like wet rats.”

  Hank went back around to join her. “Yeah. Kind of like…baby Beagles.”

  I swept Beagle Boy under one arm. “I think I’ll just take B.B. home with me for the time being.”

  “Wait a minute!” Paige shouted. “A Beagle? Is there some way….” Both Paige and her husband stared at Beagle Boy, mirroring each other’s expressions of shock and disgust.

  “Allida?” Hank asked. “Can a male Beagle and a female Samoyed mate?”

  “Yes.” And it was pretty obvious that the proof was in the puppies. “Listen, this isn’t my area of expertise. You need to take the puppies and Sammy to your vet the day after tomorrow and get them all checked out. Okay?”

  “Beagle-Samoyeds!” Hank grabbed his head in anguish. “I was hoping for white wolves! And now I’ve just got furry, white wieners!”

  Hank stormed off without another word. I stashed Beagle Boy in my car for safe keeping, then Paige and I managed to set up a reasonably good whelping area in the Atkinsons’ mud room. We carried the puppies in on blankets, and Sammy waddled after us. Paige seemed sufficiently impressed with how cute and helpless the tiny newborns were that I was sure she’d protect them. Just in case Hank had other ideas, my parting words to Paige were, “The puppies need to stay with Sammy for seven weeks. I’ll keep checking in on them from time to time.”

  I drove home, Beagle Boy making quite a racket in my back seat. I should probably have taken him to the Humane Society, where they would keep him for a week until a relative stepped forward to claim him or they’d put him up for adoption. He was my last link to Beverly, though, and I could take care of him for a while. Unless Mom objected, that is.

  I parked and carried him inside. The living room was quiet. The dogs must have all been in the back yard. “Mom? I’ve brought home a house guest,” I called.

  “Is he or she bigger than a breadbox?” she called back. Her voice sounded as if it were coming from the basement. She was probably doing laundry. Mom was fairly difficult to faze, and I’d been brought stray animals home many times throughout the years.

  “About the same size, when he’s lying down.”

  She came up the stairs and I let Beagle Boy get acquainted with his new environment. He ran around sniffing everything, including Mom’s ankles.

  “Is this Beverly’s dog?” she asked gently.

  “He used to be. His name’s Beagle Boy. Or B.B. for short.”

  “Come on, Beagle Boy,” Mom said, heading to the back. “Let’s introduce you to the gang.”

  Monday morning, I drove to my office early. I wasn’t expecting any clients for another couple of hours, but felt the need to check in with the couple of client calls I’d missed on Sunday afternoon to make sure everything was all right. Russell’s car wasn’t in his space, so I’d apparently beaten him to work.

  I got out of my car and locked it. The morning had dawned bright and cloudless, the temperature already sixty degrees, even at eight a.m. There was somebody sitting on the steps, as if waiting for me to unlock the door. As I neared, I recognized the woman, even from the back. She wore the same dusty overalls and her hair was still pulled back into a pony tail.

  “Rebecca. Hi.”

  She looked up at me. Her eyes so red and puffy it looked as though she had been crying nonstop for twenty-four hours. “Allida, hi. Sorry to bother you. I just didn’t know where else to turn.”

  “That’s quite all right. I’m so sorry about Beverly. She was a terrific person.” I unlocked the door and held it open for Rebecca.

  “Not really. If you knew her well, you’d know she was just who she was,” Rebecca said as she brushed by me. “Someone with her fair share of both faults and strengths, like all of the rest of us.”

  I let the door swing shut behind me and offered to make some coffee. She shook her head and dropped into the nearest chair. I leaned back against the counter, watching her, trying to decide if I should ask the question that nagged at me. It wasn’t any of my business, but might have had something to do with Beverly’s murder. “Yesterday, I got the impression that you and she were more than business partners.”

  Rebecca stared at me with empty eyes. “Beverly was straight, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Her voice was almost a growl.

  “I didn’t mean to imply anything hurtful. You obviously cared de
eply for her, and I’d like to help the police hunt for any possible connections between the murders.”

  “Such as ex-lovers,” Rebecca said, her voice more weary than anything else. “She was like a sister to me. She was everything I wanted to be. I didn’t mean for it to happen. None of this. I don’t know how everything went so wrong.”

  The words chilled me. “Do you know who killed her?”

  “No. I just…it’s my fault. I should have confronted her.”

  “About what?” When she didn’t respond, I asked, “The lawsuit?” taking a reasonable guess.

  She shook her head. “You can’t possibly understand. Nobody could. I want her memory to be….” She bit her lip and paused. “The police, the press, they’ll just vilify her. And me.”

  My mind raced. I had the inescapable feeling I was about to learn things about my late friend that I really didn’t want to know.

  “I set the whole thing up. In the Bellinghams’ kitchen. I’m the one who did it, but it was her idea, too. I was hoping it would be Ty who got hurt, not Cheshire.”

  It took me a moment to unscramble my thoughts. Rebecca was talking about Chesh’s accident, not Ty’s murder. “Why would you deliberately booby-trap your own construction site? You were obviously going to be held accountable at some point.”

  “I just wanted to make him trip, maybe bruise himself up a little. Sprain an ankle, maybe. He deserved it. He treated everyone like dirt, and he was always threatening to feed Beagle Boy to Doobie. I couldn’t take it anymore. So one day, I set a board on pencil rollers, figuring he’d step on it. But Chesh stepped on the board, fell on her ass, and cracked her tailbone.”

  “Having your kitchen under construction probably makes lots of people cranky. It’s impossible to believe you’d booby-trapped your own construction site, just because Ty was a creep.”

  She winced and shut her eyes. “The police didn’t believe it either. But he really was capable of throwing B.B. to Doobie and egging him on.”

  “Why did Beverly keep working for Ty? Why didn’t she have him arrested for threatening to kill her dog?”

  “The problem was bigger than that, but we didn’t have any proof. We didn’t know how else to stop him.”