Never Con a Corgi

by Edie Claire

  With the momentum of a freight train, Bruce parlayed his arrival on the ground floor landing into a full body blow that smashed the seemingly unprepared guard back into—and from the sounds of it, entirely through—the fire exit. Whether the guard had ever managed to draw a weapon, Diana couldn't see. She knew only that for a moment sunlight had spilled freely onto the landing, that guard number one had somehow stumbled over guard number two, and that Bruce was out the door and gone before either of the incompetents could get back to their feet again.

  The sound of other doors opening echoed down from above, and she pulled quickly away from the stair rail, collected her shoe, and slipped back into the hall. "What's going on?" a trio of dazed-looking office workers asked her from the elevator lobby. "Why are all the lights flashing?" "It's not a fire alarm, is it?"

  Diana shook her head. "I don't think so," she said with confused empathy, as one innocent bystander to another. "I was just on my way to the salon and I heard a bunch of yelling in the stairwell. Some men ran down and outside, but I don't know why."

  The workers looked at each other and shrugged. Diana shrugged also, and continued down the hall.

  He got away, she assured herself, her entire body flushing at the thought. She wished she could have seen the whole thing. The man was like an action film star...

  "What are you doing here?!" A familiar voice raged.

  Diana's teeth clenched. How many times had she heard that line today?

  She offered Gil, who must have just emerged from the same stairwell himself, only the briefest of backwards glances—and continued walking. He was thoroughly disheveled, dripping with sweat, and seriously pumped with adrenaline, and at any time prior to this morning would have set her female hormones into a tizzy. But since then, she had met a real man.

  "I'm making a hair appointment," she threw over her shoulder offhandedly. "Do you mind?"

  Heavy footsteps pounded; Gil reappeared in front of her.

  "You tipped him off," he said with a growl. His green eyes burned with anger; his chest heaved, still struggling to recoup lost breath. "He knew what Chad was doing the second he went for the button. Otherwise, we would have had him!"

  Diana reached up a hand and swept a stray strand of bang from her forehead. "I really do need a trim," she replied.

  ***

  Leigh, Maura, Allison, and Bess had not yet reached Bess's backyard when the sound of slamming car doors and shouting boys reached their ears. Allison gave a jump and ran on ahead.

  "Oh, right!" Bess remarked. "In all the excitement, I completely forgot. Mathias left his ball glove somewhere—Cara asked if she could bring him over to look for it."

  Leigh stifled a groan. It had been a long walk on a hot day, she was sweaty, and her legs were crisscrossed with scratches from thorn bushes that only she ever seemed to walk into. But all that was nothing compared to the fact that now she would have to worry about not just Allison, but all four kids getting an unhealthy dose of the macabre. Even if Bess's house weren't so close to a crime scene, tracking down the source of aged human remains hardly seemed an ideal pastime for a summer afternoon. She would have to try and divert the children's attention to something a little more wholesome. Like watching mindless television...

  Fat chance of that. She emerged from the edge of the woods to see the Pack already converged in a tight huddle, with Allison gesticulating excitedly. Leigh realized with a sinking feeling that the other kids, unlike herself, had probably been party to Allison's suspicions about the bone all along. In which case, Leigh had about as much chance of distracting their interest now as she did of Chewie refusing food.

  "Was your grandpa certain it was a human bone, Allison?" Cara asked intently as Leigh and Maura caught up to the others.

  "No, nobody's certain," Maura answered. "But until we know for sure one way or the other, I thought I'd do a quick check of the area. Make sure there's nothing more to be found."

  "Can we help?" Ethan offered.

  "We were going to take Chewie on the trail to the pond," Allison informed.

  "We can search the whole woods!" came the take-charge voice of the twelve year old who was so clearly Gil's son. "We can split it up into sectors, just like the real search parties do. We can assign a formation, and walk in straight lines—"

  Leigh fought a strong urge to bundle the four of them into Bess's cellar and turn the key. "I don't think—"

  "Koslow," Maura interrupted. "Will you chill out? I got this."

  The policewoman cleared her throat. Loudly. "All right, troops. Listen up! This isn't fun and games—this is serious police business. I can deputize you all for certain limited duties, but you've got to follow the rules. First one is: The only mammals wandering around in these woods today are going to be Chewie and me. You guys can walk on the trail as far as that big oak tree right before you get to the pond. No one's allowed off the trail—you can't be crashing around in the bushes getting the dog all riled up. Your job is to keep an eye on him—and if he stops anywhere and starts digging, you let me know. Don't go interfering with him yourself. Second rule is: Don't forget the first rule, or you will feel the Wrath of Polanski. Got it?"

  Lenna and Allison stifled giggles. Leigh had no idea what the "Wrath of Polanski" was, but the not-so-ominous threat had kept the Pack in line ever since kindergarten.

  "Got it!" Ethan and Mathias said cheerfully.

  "Mom?" Lenna's soft voice quivered, "The bone was old, right?"

  "Yes, honey. There's nothing to be afraid of," Cara answered. Then she sighed with resignation. "But you don't have to go if you don't want to. I can stay here at the house with you."

  Lenna's cornflower blue eyes lit up with alarm. "Oh, no!" she said quickly. "I want to go!"

  Cara threw her cousin a sideways look. Melanie's all-too-stereotypical feminine timidity was a constant source of aggravation to her strong-willed mother, but lately, there had been signs of hope. Just last week a boy in Lenna's gym class had told her that she threw like a girl, and instead of tearing up in embarrassment, she had turned around and yelled at him to stuff it. Cara couldn't have been more pleased if her daughter had gotten detention.

  "All right, then," Maura ordered. "Fall in!"

  Leigh watched as the Pack immediately hopped onto the trail in single file. They all adored their Aunt Mo, who had begun drilling them in pseudo-military formations as soon as they'd gotten too big for horsy rides on her back—which, incidentally, was some time after they had gotten too big for horsy rides on their father's back. As much as Maura enjoyed the Pack, however, she had never shown any interest in kids of her own. Between the four of them and Gerry's two, who were now in college, Maura's standard response to the question was, "I have enough kids."

  "Leigh," she said, "You can go ahead and let Chewie off lead now. Maybe we'll get lucky."

  Leigh did as she was instructed, but made no response, as she suspected her idea of luck was different from Maura's. She hoped quite fervently they would find nothing at all.

  Bess had taken the lead on the trail, and Leigh and Cara brought up the rear. After they had progressed about a third of the way to the pond with the most exciting thing happening being Lenna's panic over a wasp, Leigh began to feel more optimistic. The corgi was having a fabulous time, which was no surprise, seeing as how there was nothing he loved better—besides dinner, of course—than being surrounded by attentive humans. But making himself useful was not on the agenda. He got under people's feet, ran circles around their shins, and came closer every time someone shooed him away. He hadn't strayed more than six feet from the trail since they left the house. But then suddenly, without warning, he stopped short. His giant ears perked high and twitched from side to side like antennas.

  The travelers all stopped with him. Chewie stood frozen a moment more, then bounded off toward a thick section of plant life that surrounded a fallen tree. When he reached it he stopped and whined, then began to pace, all the while peering more deeply into the underbrush. "A
unt Mo!" Allison called in a loud whisper. "He's found something!"

  Chewie whined again. He paced some more. Then, with a sudden explosion of nerve, he charged straight forward into the foliage.

  He emerged again, with a yelp, three seconds later. It took another two seconds for everyone present to know exactly why.

  "Ugh!" Leigh groaned.

  "Oh, Lord," Bess exclaimed.

  "SKUNK!!!" Ethan and Mathias shouted.

  Lenna squealed like a banshee.

  "Back to the house!" Cara ordered. "No one touch him!"

  An embarrassed and chastened Chewie, his nose wrinkling and whole face grimacing with distaste, made a beeline for Leigh's legs. "You walked right into that one, my man," she commented, picking up her feet alternately to keep the dog from sitting on her shoes as she attempted to clip his lead back on without touching any wet fur. The stench was so bad her own eyes watered, and as soon as he was attached she held the lead out from her side and started moving him towards the house. "Aunt Bess," she said, feeling as if she could taste the vile spray in her own mouth, "Do you—"

  "I'm on it, kiddo," Bess answered briskly, passing by her. "He's not the first dog to meet a skunk in these woods, and I dare say he won't be the last. I've got everything for the recipe up at the house—just give me a minute to throw it together."

  She hustled forward to join the Pack, who were already well on their way to the house, shepherded by a determined Cara.

  Leigh watched the children moving steadily away toward safety, then turned an affectionate eye toward her dog. "Taking one for the team yet again, eh boy?" she whispered. "Just between you and me... you done good."

  Chewie sneezed.

  Leigh's aunt proved a tower of efficiency. Within minutes four eager children had donned hazmat suits of plastic rain ponchos and latex gloves and were standing ready with a giant batch of Bess's special recipe, a garden hose, one tube of eye ointment, and six towels. Chewie's "treatment" was begun.

  After a few minutes Maura emerged from the woods and joined Leigh in leaning against Bess's woodpile.

  "See anything?" Leigh asked.

  The detective shook her head. "I saw tracks that could have been Chewie's here and there, but no freshly dug holes, and no more bones lying about. But that's to be expected. Locating the original source would have been a long shot, even with the dog."

  Leigh was relieved—and disturbed—at the same time.

  "So, what if the lab report does confirm it's human?" she asked.

  "Then we bring out a real search team," Maura responded. "And I'll see if I can get a cadaver dog. Those K-9 units are amazing; if there are any more human remains out here, they'll find them."

  Bess, who had noticed Maura's reappearance and made quick strides in their direction, caught her last words. "Ooh!" she exclaimed. "I'd love to see some police dogs in action!"

  "Bess," Maura said, straightening. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about a camouflaged, motion-activated camera that's hidden on the edge of your property by the pond, would you?"

  The older woman's eyes glinted mischievously. "I might. Provided it's not illegal, of course."

  "And might you know what's been happening by the pond lately?"

  Bess's face changed to a pout. "Not a blasted thing, Detective," she said bitterly. "Maybe the criminal returning to the scene of the crime was too much to hope for, but still! I know the news reports just said 'wooded area behind the church,' but you'd think somebody would come sniffing around the pond, wouldn't you? Yet all I've caught were a couple of does and a groundhog!"

  Maura's phone buzzed, and she pulled it from her pocket and looked at it. Her brow furrowed. "I've got to take this," she said brusquely, moving off toward the drive.

  "Did Maura find anything?" Cara asked, walking up. But before anyone could answer, her own phone beeped with a text. At the sight of it, her face paled. She immediately stepped aside and dialed a number. "Gil? What's going on?"

  Leigh watched as her daughter, who had probably been loitering within earshot all along, now surreptitiously drifted after the women and their phones. "Allison!" Leigh chastised. "No."

  "Spoil sport," muttered Bess, returning to dog duty.

  As soon as Leigh was left alone, Allison approached, her face set with determination. "Mom?" she began.

  "Yes?" Leigh answered nervously.

  "I've been thinking about what Aunt Mo said... about the two things not being related. You know, Brandon Lyle's murder and Chewie finding that bone. You don't really believe that, do you?"

  Leigh felt an urge to fidget. She suppressed it. "I haven't thought about it."

  Allison's brow furrowed. "How can you not think about it?"

  Leigh fidgeted. Why couldn't the girl obsess over something a little more normal for her age? Like baking brownies? "What am I, a detective?" she said dismissively. "It's not our business to think about it, Allison. Particularly yours."

  Allison looked frustrated. "But, Mom, the two things have to be related! I mean, coincidences that big don't just happen. Two bodies in four days, found so close together? Remember when I was trying to find a four-toed salamander in our backyard, and Grandpa started telling me about statistics and probability, and he said that—"

  "Aunt Bess!" Cara's sharp voice caused everyone to stop and look at her. She offered a conciliatory smile, but no one was fooled. She stepped quickly to Bess's side. "Would you mind if Leigh and I left the Pack with you until they finish up with Chewie?" she asked. "We need to go somewhere—but we won't be long."

  "Of course," Bess answered, collecting Allison and redirecting her toward the deskunking area. "They can stay as long as you like. But what—"

  Her question went unanswered as Cara grabbed Leigh's elbow and hustled her toward the vans. "We should drive separately," she instructed.

  "I assume you've heard from Gil?" Maura asked when the women reached the driveway.

  "Yes," Cara answered. "We're meeting him at the house; the kids are staying here for now."

  Maura nodded. "I'm going to go see Peterson up at the station." She looked over her shoulder at Leigh. "Let me know what's going on with you, all right?"

  Leigh had no time to respond. The detective was already in her car and driving off.

  "Cara—" Leigh began.

  "Just drive!" her cousin ordered, all fake equanimity gone. "I'll explain when we get there!"

  Chapter 26

  Cara's "explanation" left much to be desired. All Leigh knew by the time she and Cara walked into the farmhouse—where Gil, Lydie, and Frances all stood rigidly in the living room waiting for them—was that Courtney's "mafia man" was loose in Pittsburgh and had shown up at Gil's office. The women's faces were ashen and Frances was clearly in need of a valium.

  Cara greeted her husband as if he'd been through a military battle. "Are you sure you're okay?" she pressed, checking him over herself to make sure.

  "I told you, I'm perfectly fine," he insisted. "Nobody got hurt. One of the guards got the wind knocked out of him, that's all."

  "But what was this man doing there?" Cara insisted.

  Gil ran a hand through his rumpled hair. Leigh couldn't remember ever seeing him so disheveled. Outside of a gym, the closest he came to breaking a sweat was driving his golf cart with the top down.

  "I told you, he's trying to find Courtney," Gil explained. "How he connected her with me, I don't know. But I have my suspicions."

  "Diana Saxton," Cara said sharply.

  "Probably," Gil agreed.

  "Do you even know where this Courtney woman is?" Lydie asked. Frances said nothing. Her eyes were wide as saucers. Leigh knew the signs. At any moment her mother would morph from passive panic into active panic—at which point the orders would begin. Frances' brain was clicking all the details into place even as they spoke.

  "Not right now, I don't," Gil answered. "She was supposed to come by my office this afternoon, to meet an associate of mine and pick up his keys. She never came, and s
he isn't returning my calls. In fact, her phone seems to be shut off entirely. I'm guessing she realized this man had followed her to Pittsburgh and now she's on the run again."

  "So, he is dangerous," Leigh said stupidly.

  Gil looked at her. "Courtney certainly seems to think so. But we still don't know exactly who he is. She refused to give me a name. We've got him on the security tapes, but it's no easy feat to ID a man when all you have to go on is that he's from Chicago." His voice grew edgier. "I think Diana knows who he is; and I think she put him on to me. But I can't prove it. She admitted to the police that she ran into him this morning at Brandon's apartment, that he was looking for Courtney. But she insists she didn't tell him anything."

  Cara referred to Diana with a distinctly unladylike term. "She always tells just enough of the truth not to get caught!"

  "But why would he go after Gil?" Leigh insisted, trying, in her own mind, to minimize her irrational fear of the man. Every criminal on the planet was not out to get her family. Really, they weren't. "Brandon is dead—all he wants now is to find Courtney, right?"

  Gil's eyes flickered with something Leigh really did not want to see. She suspected he didn't want to say it, either.

  "Diana believes I wronged her, and she wants revenge," he said levelly. "She proved that again when she came to see me earlier today." He paused a moment, looking at his wife. "You're always telling me I can't read people, and I know I'm not that good at it. But I was up at the reception desk when this guy walked in, and he never even said a word. He just looked at me. Just stood there looking at me, and after about three seconds, Chad hit the security button. The guy saw Chad's hand move, and he bolted. He never even asked where Courtney was."

  "Why did Chad hit the button?" Cara asked, sounding as if she knew the answer already.

  "Because Chad can read people," Gil replied. "I could tell the guy was mad about something—anybody could see that. And we both knew who he was, from the description Courtney gave me. But Chad said he hit the button because..."