Muddy Mouth: A Dog Park Mystery

by Newsome, C. A.

  “You’re doing fine, Little Man. The parade will be over before long.”

  Chewy stood up and howled. The other dogs abandoned the routine and joined him, straining their leashes towards the front of the parade.

  Lia could barely hear the loud groaning noise over the dogs. She looked ahead in time to see the barrel of the giant gun tilting down, slowly at first. She stared in horror as it picked up speed, slamming against the end of the trailer and summersaulting Sarah like a rag-doll into a heap on the road.

  The gun barrel broke free of its insufficient mooring and bounced end over end on the pavement, barely missing Sarah’s motionless form. It rebounded, looming over spectators who scrambled and stumbled out of their chairs as it came crashing down. Lia caught sight of Citrine shrieking as a woman twice her size mowed her down.

  Peter leapt out of his chair at the first scream, Cynth and Brent were close behind. Cynth stuffed Viola and Honey’s leashes in Peter’s hand while the dogs stared at him in accusation for abandoning them. Together they shoved through crowds to reach the disturbance, whatever it was.

  Spectators were torn between staying in their chairs to keep their prime seats or surging up Hamilton Avenue to see what happened. Either way, they created an obstacle.

  Brent was the first to break out of the crowd and directly in the path of the parade. The trio dodged around the cycle geeks and cut through a girls’ dance team. Their path cleared after that as they ran alongside a column of antique cars. The decapitated Browning loomed ahead.

  Peter urged the dogs to run faster. Oh, God, I hope it’s not Lia.

  The honeybees ran screaming from the careening gun barrel and its macabre load. Lia darted through the evacuating children to get to Sarah’s side, still holding Chewy’s leash. Bailey and Kita were behind her with the rest of her team.

  “Oh my God, oh my God! I thought it was a joke! I thought she was pretending to be dead!” Lia dropped onto her knees.

  Sarah lay on her side, head twisted and limbs flung wide in a grotesque imitation of 60’s freestyle dancing. Hundreds of onlookers pressed in, forming a circle enclosing Lia with Bailey, Sarah and the dogs. Kita and Chewy whined.

  The color of Sarah’s skin caught Lia’s attention. It was pink, not white. She pressed two fingers to Sarah’s throat, above a ring of purpling bruises. She felt nothing and started to panic. Calm down. Try another spot. She slid her fingers up under Sarah’s jaw. Still nothing. She slid her fingers back an inch. Sarah’s pulse was faint, but there.

  “Thank God,” Lia said. “She’s alive.”

  Bailey turned around, yelling to the crowd, “We need a doctor or a medic! Do we have a doctor or EMT?”

  With the temperature in the 90s and the humidity almost as high, it was harder to tell if Sarah was breathing. Lia grabbed a wisp of Sarah’s hair and held it under her nose. The hair fluttered.

  Bailey repeated her plea for help.

  A burly young man dressed in a paisley caftan pushed through the crowd, followed by a smaller man and a woman. By their clothing, Lia guessed they had been at the drumming party with Paul.

  The trio snapped into action, the smaller man feeling Sarah’s limbs for broken bones while the woman took her vitals and the burly man checked her pupils. Lia and Bailey stood back to let them work.

  Debby forced a path through, followed by the rest of Fiber and Snark.

  “What happened?” Debby demanded.

  Sirens split the air. The crowd opened up on one side to let the ambulance through. Paisley caftan machine-gunned the vital information to the ambulance crew while they eased Sarah onto a backboard and loaded her into the ambulance.

  With the ambulance gone, the crowd melted back to the sidewalks, leaving Lia and Bailey to face a hysterical knitting club and several police officers. The dog park gang stood by the side of the road, waiting for Lia and Bailey. Jerry stood guard over the broken float, chasing away spectators who wanted souvenirs.

  Hamilton Avenue was clear for several blocks ahead, the front half of the parade having moved on, though the MOBI cyclists and a couple of random rollerbladers swooped back around, not wanting to miss any of the action.

  Police officers herded spectators to the side of the road and led Lia, Bailey, and Fiber and Snark behind the float, now parked at the curb. The rest of the Dog Stars joined them while two more officers directed the parade past the scene. Lia thought she recognized Cal Hinkle by his straw-colored hair.

  Rubbernecking marchers moved silently by as if in paying respect to the accident. They resumed their honking, blaring, gyrating cacophony once they were beyond the catastrophe. It was odd, this black hole puncturing the center of the parade route, sucking in all celebration within its reach.

  While many spectators stayed to observe the proceedings, most folded their chairs and left, many of those carrying a chair in one hand while leading a tearful child with the other.

  Lia sat on the end of the trailer, watching as park employees led the honeybees back into the parade, resuming their march. At a time when each of those children desperately needed comfort, they had nowhere to go but forward. Solace was more than a half-mile away at the end of the parade route, where their parents waited. They walked huddled together for safety, no longer the exuberant melee of before. The bees had lost their buzz.

  How much do they understand? How long will they have bad dreams?

  Lia absorbed sound and color but comprehended little. She had always been responsive in an emergency—it was afterwards she fell apart. Now that fearful place deep inside herself did its hysterical best to lure Lia into the fetal position. Just breathe. That’s what Asia says. Just breathe. She became aware of Chewy whining.

  “Sorry, Little Man.” She picked him up and held him in her lap, rubbing her cheek against the fur on top of his head.

  “What did you see, Lia?” Debby had her arm now and pulled her attention away from the children. “All we knew was the top of the gun fell over and Sarah came out. No one knows why she was up there.”

  Alice opened her mouth, but stayed silent when one of the officers shook his head.

  “Ladies, please keep to yourselves. We need everyone’s memories intact and uncontaminated,” the officer said. “We’ll be taking your statements separately. A couple of detectives will be here in a few minutes to talk to you.”

  As he spoke, Lia spotted Peter, Brent, and Cynth cutting in front of a cherry-red Model T Ford and aiming for their conclave. Peter led Viola and Honey on their leashes. The Model T a-OOGaed in protest and Viola assumed a combative stance, barking maniacally while Honey strained towards Lia. Lia groaned. Now it’s all going to come out.

  “What’s the matter, Lia?” Steve asked. “You’re looking sick.”

  “I kind of am,” she replied.

  “Peter,” Lia said as he trotted up. She held out her free hand to take Honey and Viola’s leashes. Honey jumped up on the trailer and curled at her side. Viola, anticipating separation from Peter, sulked.

  He gave her a wry look. “This isn’t what I meant when I said to take care of yourself, Babe.”

  Lia said nothing.

  Peter gave her a searching look.

  “All right,” Brent said, “word is we have a nearly dead body by the name of Sarah Schellenger, who fell out of this float when it came apart.” He pointed at the shambles. “In front of you and a bunch of dogs and some traumatized kids just out of diapers. I don’t think the kids or dogs will be much help, so it’s up to you all to tell us what happened. Is this your entire group, Lia?”

  Lia glanced around and did a quick head count. “Yes, this is everybody.”

  “Okay, who was watching the float when it fell apart?”

  Steve, Jim and Lia raised their hands.

  Brent continued, “Who was watching it during the parade?”

  Everyone raised their hands.

  “Brent,” Lia interrupted, “you should grab Citrine. She followed the float all the way down the hill, and she was t
aking pictures.”

  “Citrine? Leroy’s supposed girlfriend? Where is she?” He craned his neck around, searching the crowd. For once, Citrine’s alarming orange hair was lost in the outrageously attired crowd.

  “Last I saw, she was talking to one of the off duty EMTs, a guy in a purple caftan. I think she may have been hurt in the crush.”

  Brent sighed. “I’ll get Hinkle on it.”

  It’s a hell of a statement, dropping a dead body in the middle of a parade. Attention seeking or poor planning? I bet not one of the thousands of people who saw the float saw anything helpful.

  Peter surveyed the remains of the giant gun and wished he could climb up to see if the structure had been tampered with. Can’t though, with the attention this case will have, Roller will have my ass if I don’t leave it for the CSIs. Well, what’s there won’t disappear. Not like memories. Witnesses first.

  The ladies of Fiber and Snark drooped in the heat, despite having taken advantage of the float’s towering presence to wait in the shade. Full length, black cat suits, in this heat. I’m surprised none of them have fainted.

  “Ladies,” he said, nodding his head in greeting. “I think it’s going to take a while to get your statements. What if we get you out of this heat?”

  The women nodded in unison.

  Brent raised his eyebrows. “Where do you propose we go? We don’t have room for 12 civilians at the station.”

  “Chuck has keys to the library so the employees could sneak in the back to use the bathroom. I bet he’s public spirited enough to let us use the building to take statements.”

  “Okay folks! We’d like to use the library to take your statements. I believe you’ll be more comfortable there. Does anyone have Chuck’s phone number so we can work out the details?”

  “What about the dogs?” Debby asked.

  “If we use the elevator and go down to the activity room, it should be okay,” Alice said. That’s a vinyl floor. Any messes will be easy to clean up.”

  “I’ll call Chuck,” Debby said.

  “Wait a minute. I’m not leaving my truck and trailer behind,” Jerry insisted, his face turning red. “I’ve got too much money tied up in them.”

  Peter made a quick mental calculation of the man’s proprietary interest in the well being of his truck against Peter’s own need for cooperation. “We’ve got an officer here to protect your truck and trailer until the crime scene folks can take possession of them—“

  Jerry squawked, “Take my truck? I need that truck for my business. You can’t take my truck!”

  Peter knew there was no way to rescue the situation, but he did his best. “Where was the truck last night?”

  “In front my house.”

  “And the float?”

  “Three miles away, at my garage. You taking my garage, too?”

  Peter decided he was not going to be the one to tell Jerry Carrico that likely, his garage would be out of commission for at least half a day while it was searched. “Since the truck wasn’t with the float until right before the parade, it’s possible crime scene can release it to you within 24 hours. I’ll tell them to process it first, so we can eliminate it.”

  “Thank you,” Jerry grumbled.

  Peter sent a text Cynth, who was talking to a group of spectators further up the block. She gave Peter a wave, then came over to join them. Jerry’s eyes lit up at the multi-colored tulle, vision, then jerked his head around to see if Debby was watching. Yes, Jerry, you have a wife.

  “Mr. Carrico, this is Detective McFadden. She’ll take your statement here so you won’t have to leave your vehicle.”

  “Happy to,” Cynth said, smiling in her deceptively sweet way. “Mr. Carrico, lets see if we can borrow some lawn chairs while we take care of this.” Jerry followed her like a puppy, over to the curb.

  Peter turned back to the group. “Who’s ready for a short hike?”

  “So the float was locked in Jerry’s garage,” Terry mused as he selected jalapeno peppers and muenster cheese from the loaded buffet in Jim’s yard and layered them on his hamburger. “I’m not convinced this is Leroy’s doing. Could it be a love triangle gone wrong? Was the lithe and lovely librarian cavorting with the earthy grease monkey after hours? Caught in flagrante delicto by the wronged wife?”

  “Doubtful,” Lia said, forking up a bite of bun-less burger off her paper plate. She looked down at a sea of salivating muzzles and cut off pieces to share. “Not that Debby wouldn’t do it. I don’t think Jerry is Sarah’s type. And Debby’s not strong enough to shove Sarah inside the float.”

  “Ah, but the cheating husband would assist his wife, as that would be the only way to keep his own ass out of a sling,” Terry said.

  “Why wouldn’t Jerry just stop Debby from strangling her?” Bailey asked.

  Nick guffawed. “Interfering in a cat fight is dangerous. Would you jump into a cat fight, Jim?”

  “Not me,” Jim said, shuddering.

  “No wise man would,” Steve said.

  “I saw them talking before the parade,” Bailey said, taking a bite of pickle. “They didn’t look like they knew there was a body on board, dead of otherwise. And neither of them was any more freaked out than anyone else after Sarah appeared.”

  “If I was hiding a body and it fell out in front of a thousand people, I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool. I sure wouldn’t be able to put on a good act of being shocked. I’d just look guilty as hell,” Steve said.

  “The butler did it,” Jim said, handing a loaded plate to Bonnie before starting one for himself.

  Terry waved him off. “Bah! It’s always the spouse. If Debby didn’t do it, Duane did.”

  “Bad back,” Lia said, her eyes glued to her plate. Patience, Anderson. These are your friends. “They’re all middle-aged and feeling it. Duane’s scheduled for surgery. If he picked Sarah up, he’d be in the hospital before he could make it two feet.”

  “Why don’t you think it was Leroy, Terry?” Bonnie asked. “Jim told me about your investigations. Seems to me he’s the logical suspect.”

  “Nobody can find Leroy,” Terry said. “We can find everyone else.”

  “Funny thing,” Jose said. “I can’t believe the float lasted a mile, carrying a load like that.”

  “The angle of the gun barrel kept her weight back in the tube while they were coming down the hill,” Jim explained. “Once the ground leveled, her weight shifted, and the barrel acted like a lever.”

  “Once an engineer, always and engineer,” Bailey said. “If Leroy and Duane and Jerry didn’t do it, who did? And why?”

  “Perhaps she ran afoul of Jerry’s meth-addled mechanic emerging from his secret drug lab,” Terry bobbed his eyes suggestively.

  “Jerry doesn’t have a drug-addled meth-head working for him,” Steve said.

  “And how do you know?” Terry said.

  “Because he’d be an idiot if he did. And even a meth-head knows better than to cook drugs near all those flammable chemicals,” Steve said.

  “There’s no place for a drug lab.” Lia said patiently. “The garage is one huge empty room, like a concrete airplane hanger. You might as well say the rest of Sarah’s knitting club ganged up on her and did it,” Lia said.

  “By George, you’ve nailed it!” Terry said.

  Jim shook his head. Steve rolled his eyes.

  “Terry, I wish you’d stop joking about this,” Lia said. “Sarah is my friend, and I don’t know if she’s ever going to wake up. Excuse me.”

  Lia headed for the house, followed by a train of dogs. She sat on the back steps. Honey, as always, sensed her mood and leaned on her. Chewy eyed her hopefully for more burger. No longer hungry, she picked pieces of burger off her plate and lobbed them to the dogs.

  Idiots. They act like this is a game.

  Bonnie sat down next to Lia and put a hand on her knee. “You have every right to be upset, seeing that happen to your friend. I know they sound insensitive, but I think it might be their way of h
andling it.”

  “Like cop humor?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I just want to sit here for a while. I’ll rejoin the group in a bit.”

  Bonnie departed, leaving Lia to the ministrations of the dogs. Lia sat, thinking about nothing and focused on her breathing until her stomach settled. She realized she was hungry and headed back to the table and human society.

  “One thing’s for sure,” Terry said. “If Sarah, wakes up, she’ll be able to identify him. He has to finish the job.”

  Lia shut her eyes and considered fleeing for the steps again. She and Bailey looked at each other. Bailey winked.

  “Oh? And are you planning to set a trap?” Steve asked.

  “Yeah,” Jose said. “I seen that in movies. That would be awesome. Hide under the sheets with a gun, and when the killer comes, POW!”

  “You get the hospital to let you in Sarah’s room with a gun, and I’ll use my feminine wiles to lure her police guard away so the killer will think the coast is clear,” Bailey offered.

  “What hospital is going to let you in her room with a gun? You could be the killer, pretending to set a trap for the killer,” Jim said.

  “You’re right,” Bailey said. “I’ll have to offer the officer a quickie in the supply closet to keep him away long enough for Terry to sneak in and the killer to show up. Do you think it will be Officer Brainard, Lia? I could sure keep him busy.”

  “This is stupid,” Jim said. The killer is going to see a big, fat lump under the sheets and know someone is hiding there.”

  “True,” Terry said, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Lia, you’ll have to do it. You’re small enough.”

  “Me? Don’t drag me into this.”

  “You at least have to go to the hospital, and see who’s keeping vigil,” Terry urged.

  “I will not intrude on her friends and family.”

  “You’re her friend. You have a plausible reason for showing up,” Terry said. “We can chip in for flowers. If I show up, they might find it strange. Still, if I profess to offer my best wishes to a member of Lucas Cross’ entourage as a fan of the Colt Savage novels, it might fly.”