“Just out of curiosity, could you tell me who installed your system?”
“Sure. It was Hank’s Security Systems. Hank Atkinson himself installed it.”
Odd coincidence. “I see. Since this happened, were they able to adjust the system such that the dog can’t accidentally trip it?”
“Yeah, that much is fixed. But can you help my dog so she’ll be able to get over her phobia about our doors?”
“I should be able to do what’s called counter-conditioning with her…encourage her to expect positive results from passing through the doorway.”
“Great, ‘cause I’ll tell you, she’s one scared dog, between this thing with the alarm, coming right on the heels of the break-in.”
“Break in?” I repeated, tensing.
“Yeah. See, the house was burglarized a couple of weeks before. That’s what made me decide it was high time to invest in an alarm system, you know what I mean?”
“Absolutely,” I said, fully prepared to call My Favorite Detective one more time. The new customer set his appointment with me. I hung up and called Detective Rodriguez. To my chagrin, when I told him “this is Allida Babcock,” he answered, “Of course it is. How are you, Allida?”
After giving the detective the names and addresses of my two new clients who’d used Hank’s security systems after having been burglarized, I listened to the rest of my messages. Paige Atkinson had also called, asking me to return her call as soon as possible. I dialed, and she said, “Thank goodness.”
I could hear Sammy barking in the background.
“Doobie and Sammy are barking like mad again. I’ll bet the puppies would be too, if they were old enough to bark. It just starts up suddenly, and both of them bark, then just as if finally quiets down, they start up again. Please. It’s driving me crazy. Can you just come out here? I’ll pay you anything you want to just make these dogs stop barking.”
I drove to Paige’s house, but at the sight of Seth Mulhuniak tying his shoes in front of the fence that formed the boundary between the Atkinsons’ and Bellinghams’ property lines, I kept driving, all the while watching to see if he’d recognized me or my car. His back was to the road and he didn’t look up.
The last two times I’d been here when the dogs were barking, Mr. Melhuniak had also been tying his shoes just as I appeared. He only lived a few houses down, so frequent shoe-tying a compulsive behavior of his, but this was a man who’d gone apoplectic at my mention of Doobie. Maybe Seth was riling the dogs somehow, just to be ornery.
I circled the block, this time knowing exactly where to look as I rounded the corner. Sure enough, the moment my car started down the street, Seth Mulhuniak pocketed something and started working on his shoe laces. This time I was certain that he’d look at me through the corner of his eye, so I pulled over.
“Hello, Mr. Melhuniak.”
He merely pursed his lips and glared at me.
To give myself an excuse for circling the block, I said, “You wouldn’t happen to know where house number 2046 is, would you?”
He waved me further down the street. “Way up that-a-way.”
“Thanks so much.” I gave him a pleasant smile.
His face didn’t change.
I parked just around the corner, where Seth couldn’t see me. I waited at the corner of the Atkinsons’ cedar fence, then popped around it rounded the corner at a dead run. Seth Melhuniak was facing the fence, holding his fisted hand up to his lips. This time I got a clear look at the object he’d pocketed.
He looked horrified at me and started to walk away, toward his house.
“Hang on a minute, Mr. Melhuniak. I need to have a word with you.”
“What are you doing here? This isn’t any business of yours!”
“I’m afraid it is, sir. I’ve been hired to do something about the dogs barking in your neighborhood. That dog whistle of yours is aggravating a dog that gave birth to six puppies three days ago.”
To my surprise, he blushed and sincerely looked contrite. “Must be Samantha, the Atkinsons’ dog. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“Just stop this, Mr. Melhuniak. You’re letting your anger control you. That isn’t doing you or anyone else any good. Ty Bellingham is dead. So is Beverly Wood. This has to stop.”
“You don’t understand! Tyler Bellingham took my dog from me! That crazy wife of his was in on it, too! I’m sure of it!”
“You mean, Doobie was yours?”
“No. He’d get Doobie to bite him, then he’d run to the doctor for medical care, and claim somebody else’s dog bit him. They’d have an out-of-court settlement rather than risk losing their dog. Only I didn’t have enough money to suit him. The judge didn’t believe me. He forced me to put my Ezra down.”
“Oh, my God. I…had no idea.”
“I’m not the only sucker he pulled this on. He did it to at least two other people. Course, he didn’t pull it in the same town each time. He wasn’t that stupid. He’d pull his routine in Broomfield once and another time in Denver. The guy was as rotten as they come.”
“The Atkinsons have newborn puppies. If you’re interested in one of—” He was shaking his head so hard, I stopped.
“Don’t want a puppy, thank you very much. Just want my own dog back. But I can’t get him.”
“There are some wonderful full-grown dogs at the Boulder Humane Society, Mr. Melhuniak. You can get a dog that’s been trained by volunteers, such as myself.”
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll think about that, one of these days.”
“In the meantime, I’ve really got to ask you not to blow that dog whistle.”
He took the whistle out of his pocket and studied it. “Gig’s up. Guess I’ll have to retire this thing.”
“Thank you. And I truly am very sorry that you lost your dog over this, Mr. Melhuniak.”
He took a couple of steps down the sidewalk, then, to my complete surprise, said, “If we ever run into each other again, call me Seth.”
As I headed back for my car, I saw Rebecca, seated on the bottom step of Beverly’s front porch, which had had its police cordoning removed. I shored myself up, and walked up to her. With a blank expression on her face, she watched me approach.
“Rebecca. Hi. What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know. I can’t seem to keep going, you know? The business. Everything. It’s all falling to pieces.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you? I was hoping you’d get in touch. After I left your office, I went to the police, just like I said I would. They didn’t tell me anything. I don’t know for sure, but I still think they’re pretty sure Beverly did it. Killed Ty Bellingham, I mean.”
“I hope not.”
“Meaning you hope she didn’t, or that the police don’t suspect her?”
“Both.”
Her eyes were so dull-looking. I was uncomfortable talking to her. She made me nervous. “Can you tell me again exactly what Beverly said during your last phone conversation?”
“She said something like, ‘Don’t say anything to Allida Babcock about that pit bull I had for a while last winter. The police suspect me, and I don’t know why. I didn’t kill Ty Bellingham. He was a sick man and deserved to be put out of his misery.’“
“Didn’t you say she also mentioned the phone cord?”
“What phone cord?” she asked.
“At Ty Bellingham’s house. You told me she said that Ty’s phone cord had been cut.”
“I can’t remember anything about that.”
“Rebecca, I’m positive. You told me that Beverly said the—”
“Stop it! I said no such thing! You’re harassing me, just like Beverly always used to.” She dashed back to her car and drove away.
Chapter 19
The next morning, it occurred to me that Beverly’s extended family might know about the pit bull. It was a long shot, but I had wanted to contact Beverly’s family anyway to ask what I should do about Beagle Boy. The four dogs greeted me enthusiasti
cally in the kitchen, and Sage let out a sharp reprimand when Beagle Boy tried to butt in line.
I let Doppler and Pavlov out the sliding glass door, but Sage and then Beagle Boy went trotting off the opposite direction in search of Mom. I looked in the Berthoud directory for a listing under the last name of “Wood.” There was none. With Sage dutifully a step behind, Mom came into the kitchen.
“You don’t happen to know where Beverly Wood’s parents are now, do you?” I asked.
Mom grabbed a mug off the small wooden cup holder beside the sink. Beagle Boy dashed into the kitchen, sliding a little on the linoleum floor, and promptly whined at Mom for a treat. We ignored him, although, in a show of disgust and superiority, Sage sat down in the middle of the kitchen with his back to us.
“Sam Wood died eight years ago, and Millie moved to Greeley a few months later.”
“I didn’t realize you knew them that well.”
“I don’t.” She filled her cup with sink water, Beagle Boy begging all the while. In spite of Sage’s attempts to sulk, his head was turned so as to keep a wary eye on our canine guest. “Right around the time Mr. Wood passed away, the wife of their former neighbors bought flying lessons for her husband’s fiftieth birthday. Want Millie’s address?”
I found Mrs. Wood sitting on her front porch when I drove up. It had been some fourteen or fifteen years since I’d last seen her, and I wouldn’t have recognized her. She was on an old wicker rocking chair, staring out with what looked like apathy as I approached. She looked to be in her late seventies, white hair in a bun, her skin seemingly folding in on itself.
“Mrs. Wood? I’m Allida Babcock. I called an hour or so ago. I was friends with your daughter.”
She stayed seated, but stopped rocking. “Oh, yes. Allida.” She smiled, and now I recognized some of the facial features Beverly had inherited: the angular nose and chin, the gray eyes. “I remember you. Last time I spoke with Beverly, she told me you two were on a team together, again. Softball, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. She was our pitcher. I’m so terribly sorry that this happened.”
She pursed her lips and nodded, her gray eyes clouding. “No parent should ever bury a child. It’s not the way life should be. Are you coming to the service tomorrow?”
It felt as though her grief was pressing against my own heart, making it hard for me to breathe. “Yes. I’ll be there. So will my mother. She asked me to pass along her condolences, as well.”
She gave me a little nod. “I spoke with Officer Rodriguez yesterday about taking care of Beverly’s house and everything. He told me you had Beagle Boy.”
“Yes, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Do you know of anyone in the family who would want to adopt him?”
She shook her head. “We discussed the matter amongst ourselves. Her sisters and I all have dogs ourselves and don’t feel they’d get along with her Beagle. I could take him in for a while, though, and put up some free-to-a-good-home signs.”
I automatically winced. Dog-fighter rings periodically scanned free-dog ads sometimes wound up as “If you’re certain you don’t want to adopt Beagle Boy yourself, I’d be happy to find a good home for him myself. I work with dogs for a living, and I could thoroughly check out the adoptive family to make sure it’s a good match.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Allida. So long as my daughter’s pet finds a good home, one dog is plenty for me.” The slightest hint of a smile returned to her features. “Would you like to meet my dog? He puts all of those cliches about vicious pit bulls to shame.” She rose and pushed open the screen door. “King, come here, boy.”
Out trotted the dog from Ty’s video.
My initial shock quickly changed into feelings of concern and confusion. Why had Beverly lied to me about King’s whereabouts? I knelt on the gray-painted wood porch and petted his flawless brindle coat. He sat down beside me, lavishing the extra attention, acting not the least bit territorial. Pit bulls had fallen drastically in the court of public opinion from their heyday as the smiling dog in the Buster Brown shoe ads.
“He’s a nice dog, all right. How did you come to own King?”
“He came to me thanks to Beverly,” she said with a sigh, returning to her seat. “She’d rescued him from that hideous man who used to live next door to her.”
“Ty Bellingham,” I prompted.
Mrs. Wood was now rocking nonstop, as if seeking comfort from the repetitive motion. “He was an evil man. Beverly told me that Mr. Bellingham got King to be a watchdog at his warehouse. He was just leaving the dog there, feeding him once a week. Then he was going to get rid of King because he discovered that he wasn’t vicious enough and would never have attacked an intruder. So, Beverly pleaded with him to let her find a good home for the dog. Beagle Boy was too jealous to be around him, so she asked me.”
“I wonder why she didn’t explain that to me. I found out about Ty Bellingham adopting King and asked her whether or not she knew what became of the dog. She told me she didn’t know.”
Mrs. Wood stopped her rocking and shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. This county considers pit bulls a potentially dangerous animal. So they insist that you register them. I could never bring myself to do that. I was afraid if there was an incident involving a stray dog biting some child anywhere in the area, the authorities would come for King. I asked her not to tell anyone in Boulder about King. My neighbors out here, they’ve all met King and they know how gentle he is, and we all just make a point of taking care of one another.”
“That’s as it should be,” I offered lamely. “I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me about King’s not being licensed.”
She frowned and averted her eyes. “A lot of things don’t seem as important to me, now that I’ve lost my child.”
Her words instantly increased a sensation of pressure on my chest. “I would have understood if Beverly had told me, too. I was only asking about King because I was concerned about animal cruelty from Ty or his associates.”
She rose slowly. I’d clearly overstayed my welcome. “That’s nice of you. As you can see, King is healthy and happy, but I don’t want to rock the boat by adopting Beagle Boy. Thank you for looking after him on our behalf.”
“Again, I’m so sorry. There’s just one last question I want to ask. You called Ty a ’hideous man.’ Is that because of his treatment of his dogs?”
My question motivated her to return to her seat, so I prepared myself for a long answer. “A grown man, dressing up like a hippie, and marrying some homeless wretch of a girl, just to make his ex-wife jealous.” She shook her head. “One time when I was at Beverly’s house, this must have been, oh, two years ago, Mr. Bellingham came over to complain about Beagle Boy digging under his fence and leaving messes in his yard. He said he was going to get a ’real dog’ himself to take care of the problem, and, let me tell you, did he ever! That dog of his was half grizzly bear.”
“I understand Beverly and her partner, Rebecca, had quite a bit of trouble with Ty when they were remodeling his kitchen.”
She chuckled, or coughed, I couldn’t tell which. “That Rebecca was absolutely convinced Ty was running dog fights. She hated the man with a passion. My Beverly never fully went along with the theory, though.”
“It was Rebecca who suspected Ty was operating dog fights? She told me it was Beverly’s theory.”
“I don’t know why she would say that, unless she hasn’t been taking her lithium.”
“Lithium?”
“Yes. Rebecca’s a good person and was a good friend to my Beverly. But Rebecca has mental problems and has to be on medication. Beverly used to have to remind her to take her drugs every day. And without those reminders, who knows what she has going on in that mind of hers.” She let out that half-chuckle, half-cough noise, and this time, I was certain she was coughing.
“Beverly never told me about Rebecca’s problem.”
“No, she wouldn’t have. She had too much firstha
nd experience with the pain of mental illness in her own life. One of her sisters, my oldest daughter, suffers from the same malady. That’s how Beverly and Rebecca met, in fact, through the outpatient clinic. Beverly knows more than most anyone to respect the person’s privacy. Knowing how sensitive Beverly was about the whole subject, she probably kept Rebecca’s illness as a secret.”
“What about you? Did you tell the police what you just told me about Rebecca?”
“Heavens, yes. I doubt Rebecca’s dangerous, even when she’s off her medication. But still, it was obviously something the police needed to know.”
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Wood. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“See you at the memorial service, dear.”
I nodded and left. I got about two miles down the road before the tears were blurring my vision too much to continue. I pulled over. How could I ever have doubted Beverly? I’d seen everything in exactly the worst possible light. I’d suspected her of murdering Ty. Doubted her motives for not being forthcoming regarding the pit bull.
And yet, somebody had to have told Rebecca about the severed phone cord. Unless Rebecca had cut it herself. In either case, I believed every word Beverly’s mom had told me. Beverly had not killed Ty Bellingham. Rebecca might have been lying about the phone conversation she’d told me about. Or she might have simply been mistaken. She didn’t remember telling me about the phone cord. Maybe she’d mixed up the phone conversations in her initial story.
That thought took me right back around to my number one suspects: Paige and Hank Atkinson. Hank and Ty could have had their illegal side business operating for some time now, but the two men could have had a legitimate falling out. Hank might have killed Ty and, because he was an accomplice who represented the biggest liability, killed Larry Cunriff as well. Beverly might have witnessed something, so Hank killed her as well.
4 Woof at the Door Page 21
