by Mary Hiker
Big Catch
An Avery Barks Dog Mystery
BIG CATCH
An Avery Barks Dog Mystery
By Mary Hiker
Published By:
Awesome Dog
Copyright © 2016 Mary Hiker
www.maryhiker.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication of these trademarks is not associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Chapter 1
How many more days do I have?
I racked my brain, trying to figure out what to buy for Mother’s Day this year. I’d procrastinated once again and would probably end up paying extra for overnight delivery, as usual. The woman was tough to buy for. She already had everything she wanted and our tastes ran at opposite ends of the spectrum.
My frustration instantly vanished when I looked down at my feet and saw the little brown eyes staring back at me from the grey and white puffball of fur. Daisy wasn’t much bigger than my size seven hiking boots, but she had a doggie heart the size of Texas and was easily the most popular guest at the animal sanctuary. The volunteers fawned over the mixed breed during every weekly visit, making the little senior dog feel extra loved.
Daisy’s daily walks were short and slow, consisting of a two-hundred-foot stroll down the side of the driveway in the five-foot-wide strip of grass between the gravel and a line of overgrown vegetation. It was an abbreviated “out and back” walk that still took quite a while because Daisy moved slower than any dog this side of the Mississippi. After all, she was fourteen years old and not used to the country life. Her previous dog-mom lived in the city and had passed on earlier in the year.
I shuffled along with a shortened stride, the way parents walk with a toddler, allowing Daisy to take her time enjoying the sights and smells that hung six inches above the ground. We passed an eight-foot section of beautiful wild flowers flowing in the breeze, but Daisy had no interest in stopping and smelling the roses. She was determined to investigate something a lot more interesting five feet away - a tiny pile of bunny poop hidden in the grass.
I chuckled. “Why in the world would you pass up smelling beautiful flowers and go straight to the doo-doo?”
Daisy ignored me as if the answer was supposed to be obvious - it’s a dog thing.
We gradually made our way back toward the main building and approached the wooden gazebo that served as a comfortable meeting place for people and potential pets. There were already two elderly ladies in their early seventies sitting in the shade and enjoying a glass of lemonade. One was our most faithful volunteer, Margaret St. John.
“This is the girl I was telling you about!” Margaret held her arm out toward us and leaned into her friend. “Hold onto your heart, Betty.”
I knew darn well she wasn’t talking about me and smiled as Daisy followed the familiar voice and ambled over in their direction. To speed things up, I gently picked up the old dog, climbed the two steps into the gazebo, and placed Daisy on our guest’s lap.
“I love what you’ve done with the gazebo,” I said to Margaret as I sat down to visit. “The beautiful flower pots around the edge make it an even nicer place to sit and enjoy the breeze.”
Margaret beamed at my acknowledgement of her hard work.
“Oh, she’s so adorable,” Betty cooed as she cradled Daisy in her arms. “Love at first sight.”
“I told you so.” Margaret clasped her hands together and laughed, nodding with satisfaction. “I know my sister.”
Daisy had that effect on everyone she met, and she reveled in it. Who wouldn’t?
“I want her,” Betty said with determination.
By the look of certainty in her eyes, I knew we’d just gotten another successful adoption, and my heart sang.
“I can vouch for Betty,” Margaret said and took a sip of lemonade. “We’ve raised critters of all kinds since we were kids.”
“But how will I get her home?” Betty asked, wrinkling her brow and clinging to Daisy.
“I’ve been thinking about this, in case you decided to keep her,” Margaret said and turned to me. “That is - if Avery agrees and Ben goes along with my plan.”
I smiled, confident that my boss, Ben, would be interested in hearing any idea that would help Daisy get her forever home.
“Betty’s flying back home tonight,” Margaret explained, “At her age, she doesn’t feel comfortable driving the seven hours back to the Carolina coast, and Daisy is too old to be sedated for air travel.”
Betty held Daisy to her chest and kissed the top of her furry little head.
“Avery, I thought maybe you’d want to visit your mom for Mother’s Day and take Daisy along for the ride.” Margaret gave me a knowing wink. “Your mom and Betty only live a few miles apart.”
Betty gasped, hope filling her eyes. “Would you bring Daisy to me, Avery?” The older woman gently bit her lip in anticipation of my answer.
I wondered if Margaret had been speaking covertly to my mother as I watched Daisy snuggle with her new mom. Margaret had spent a lot of years refining her gift of manipulation, especially when it involved animals or family relationships, but she didn’t have to twist my arm on this one.
I was heading to Atlantic Beach, North Carolina.
Chapter 2
“I’m so glad she’s getting a furry friend,” Margaret said, placing a hand over her heart as we watched Betty step gingerly across the lawn, carrying Daisy toward the sanctuary office to sign adoption papers.
I was struck by Betty’s keen sense of fashion. The older woman looked like she just stepped out of a spring fashion catalog, wearing a flowing cream color top that matched perfectly with her jewelry, slacks, and shoes. I’d heard it called, “dressing with ageless style.”
Margaret and I, on the other hand, dressed for comfort and to look half-way presentable. Jeans paired with a nice top sufficed ninety-nine percent of the time. My major accessory tended to be a dog leash.
“Betty’s been feeling a little low,” Margaret said, shaking her head. “Her latest boyfriend was found dead two weeks ago last Friday.” She leaned forward in her chair and lowered her voice. “Her neighbor found the body lying in the yard next door.”
My heart sank for the kind woman.
“Can you believe the police questioned her for two hours about the murder? They sat her in a small room with two detectives and a pad of paper and grilled her about the last time she saw the man alive and whether he had any enemies.” Margaret sputtered. “For crying out loud, she’s seventy years old. She doesn’t remember what she had for breakfast.”
“Murder?” I raised a brow. “How did he die?”
“I’m not too sure what happened. She hasn’t talked about it much and tears up whenever I’ve tried to mention it.” Margaret’s wrinkles deepened across her forehead. “I’m hoping you’ll look into it while you’re down there.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right?”
“You’re good at that kind of stuff, Avery.” Margaret shuffled through her purse and pulled out her phone. “Here, I’ll send you a picture of h
im to get started.”
My phone pinged, and I was instantly captivated by the chiseled features of the man looking back at me. I guessed he was in his late-fifties and was an accomplished athlete of some sort. “Wow, what a good-looking man.”
“I know, tell me about it,” she sighed and stared at the picture on her own phone. “Betty always had the most handsome boyfriends.”
“Did you meet him?”
“No, but she constantly raved about him and brags about how well he treats her…” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh. I mean, uh, treated her.”
I nodded, ignoring her flushed cheeks.
“Do you have any other information at all?” I asked, wondering why I was allowing myself to get sucked into this mess.
“His name was Victor Stockton, and they just got back from a vacation. He took her on a cruise.” Margaret’s eyes lit up as her thumbs raced across her phone’s screen. “Let me forward the video she sent me.”
My phone pinged just as Betty emerged from the sanctuary office in triumph.
“It’s so good to finally see her smile,” Margaret said as she subtly dropped her phone back into her purse.
I followed suit by tucking my phone in the back pocket of my jeans.
This was going to be one heck of a trip.
Chapter 3
My gut told me I would need some back-up.
My head told me that my friend, Deputy Don Donaldson, was the ideal man for the job. He’d recently gotten cut out of his leg cast but hadn’t yet returned to work. Besides, he’d been under a lot of stress in recent weeks, and a little get-away would do him some good.
The drama in Don’s life had been building since he reported some wrongdoing at the sheriff’s department that prompted an investigation by the North Carolina SBI. Once their skilled investigators started digging for dirt, all kinds of crazy came to light.
Turns out, the sheriff’s decision to make a vehicular manslaughter charge disappear was just the tip of the good ‘ole boy’s iceburg. Apparently, for the past twenty-something years, Sheriff Ravre was smack dab in the middle of several naughty escapades, including heading a local underground chop shop that sold parts from cars that were stolen in Virginia and turning a blind eye to prostitution in exchange for a cut of the pie.
Don initially received a few anonymous death threats for reporting the beloved sheriff, but the tides turned as the depth of the scandal became overwhelming, and the public rallied behind him with support.
A handful of longtime friends of the sheriff were now running scared, even offering to testify to avoid getting sent up the river. It was easy to see why the latest breaking events were wearing Don down, and I thought a trip to the coast just might help change that.
I plopped on the couch next to my dog and gave him a call.
“Hey, Avery.” He sounded tired.
“Do you want to come along and help me deliver a dog to a nice old lady in Atlantic Beach?”
He didn’t respond right away, so I continued, “It might be good for you to get away for a couple days and the cost is already covered. She sprang for the entire trip.”
He blew out a long breath. “The beach actually sounds nice.”
“I’ll pick you up in the morning about eight.” My golden retriever mix, Chevy, nudged my leg as if he wanted to remind me about the most important part. “Oh yeah, we’re taking our dogs along.”
#
My eyes popped open before the alarm clock went off and I jumped out of bed with the excitement of transporting Daisy to her new home. For the first morning in ages, Chevy wasn’t sprawled across the middle of the bed. Slightly concerned, I hurried out to the main room of the cabin and found him sleeping between my weekend luggage and the front door.
Chevy had watched intently as I packed a few things in the suitcase the night before, knew it meant I was going on a trip and was determined to be included. I chuckled as he let out a snort. “There’s no way I could forget you.”
He jumped to his feet and turned his face toward the door, too excited to even consider begging for breakfast – his usual morning routine.
“You’ve gotta eat first,” I said and placed his bowl of kibble next to the door to accommodate him.
He dove into the bowl and chowed down with one eye on his food and one on me.
It only took me an hour to get the work van loaded up and drive back out to the sanctuary to pick up Daisy, but as I pulled onto the property, it was clear there’d be an unexpected delay. The gazebo was covered in strands of colored ribbon that matched the blooming flowers, and balloons tied to rocking chairs bounced in the breeze. Twenty dog loving people were milling about with huge grins and plastic glasses of sparkling apple juice – their version of non-alcoholic champagne.
Margaret and her fellow volunteers had thrown a surprise going-away party for Daisy and were gathered around several folding tables covered with doggie gifts and baked goods, for both dogs and humans alike. These folks went all out, taking turns holding Daisy and congratulating the little dog on her new home. Music blared from a portable speaker and sausages were cooking on a grill next to the gazebo. I loved this crowd.
One of the ladies handed me a plate piled high with pastry and grilled meat as another let Chevy sample her homemade dog treats. It was a good thing I’d gotten an early start.
While I took my time chatting and devouring the incredible food as I sat in the gazebo, two of the guys packed the back of the sanctuary van with Daisy’s new toys, bedding, and doggie beach goggles.
“I hope Betty’s house is big enough to hold all that stuff,” I laughed as Margaret sat down beside me.
“She has a divine home,” Margaret said and handed me my little grey and white traveling companion. “And I’m sure Daisy will love it.” She wiped away a tear of joy as the rest of the group gathered around to say their last goodbyes and well wishes.
“Hey, Margaret, would you mind wrapping up a to-go plate for Don?” I stood to leave as Daisy cuddled into my chest. “He’s going to ride along with us.”
Her eyes lit up, and I instantly regretted letting her know. Margaret was always looking to be a matchmaker, no matter who was involved. Don and I were longtime friends – platonic friends - and her meddling would not have any effect on that.
“So he can help us find out more information.” I tucked my arms tighter around Daisy in defense and suddenly realized I hadn’t let Don know about that part yet.
Margaret quickly filled two plates heaping full of food and skillfully slung plastic wrap around the dishes as I made my way out to the van, meeting me as I loaded Daisy up for the trip. She placed the food in a large paper bag on the passenger side seat and gave me a big hug, rocking from side-to-side.
“Give that to Don when you see him.”
“Thank you, I said and closed the passenger door. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate a homemade meal.”
She grinned. “I meant the hug.”
Chapter 4
Cars flew past us in the left hand lanes as the van rolled east down I-40 toward the Carolina coast. We were going the speed limit, but I didn’t want to push too far past that with all the precious cargo on board. Besides Don and myself, there was Chevy, Ace, and little Daisy.
Chevy was being a good friend to the little dog, lying next to her crate and pressing his nose against the door, keeping her company in the back of the van. Don and his black lab Ace, a search and rescue dog, were more about business, watching the traffic rush past through the side windows.
Don’s eyes constantly took in the information of the cars around us, glancing down at the license plates as they sped past. When I’d stopped for gas a few hours before, his eyes continually scanned the parking lot while he walked the dogs in the grass for a mid-trip potty break.
We’d been driving in silence for quite some time as I tried to give him some space, figuring he was feeling a little paranoid from the angry messages and threats left on his answering machine. I guessed I couldn�
��t blame him but wondered if he’d drown in his own thoughts for the entire trip.
As I turned off US-70 and finally drove across the four-lane Atlantic Beach Causeway Bridge, we were greeted by a spacious blue sky and deep blue water down below. The town’s light blue water tower stood above the horizon, welcoming us to spend a few days. My shoulders loosened in response to the symbol of relaxation.
I knew we couldn’t waste the opportunity of some quality beach town time buried in problems from back home and decided it was the perfect time to break the news about Victor Stockton’s demise. Even though it wasn’t exactly a happy story, it would divert Don’s thoughts about the sheriff’s department and awaken his core desire to help others.
Don sat up straighter as his body was energized by the story of Betty’s boyfriend, the man’s passing, and Margaret’s subsequent request for help. The chance to assist Margaret made him smile for the first time in weeks. He was clearly excited to be involved in this unofficial investigation and obviously had been missing that aspect of his job.
I was excited about getting Daisy to the loving arms of Betty and burying my toes in the sand down at the beach. Oh, and of course, my mother… ugh, I still hadn’t gotten her a present.
We made it across the bridge, driving past tourist shops and restaurants painted in soft pastels, joining the other drivers at the red light as music blasted from their vehicles.
The utter flatness of the land in this part of North Carolina took me by surprise, no matter how many times I visited.
As the light turned green, I kept one hand on the wheel as I handed my phone across the seat. “Here’s a video of Betty and the deceased on a recent vacation.”
Don shoved the last bite of pastry in his mouth and pressed play, watched for a few seconds, looked over at me, then back at the screen, then back at me.
“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” Don said, holding up his hands. “But this guy looks a good fifteen years younger than Betty, and with his looks, could date a beautiful forty-year old… easy.”
