Witch Doggone Killer

by Paula Lester

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “That does seem to be what it would suggest,” he conceded. But his words didn’t match his tone. I didn’t think he was convinced.

  “So, I guess it’s not crazy for me to be worried.” I rubbed my arms, even though it wasn’t cold in the cab.

  Crosby squeezed my knee. “I guess not.” He pulled into a parking spot in front of the police station. “Do you want to come in with me?”

  “I’ll just wait here.”

  “Okay. I won’t be long. Then I’ll drive you home.”

  While I waited for Crosby to return, I thought about Rocky. Why would someone have stolen the dog? The Jack Russell terrier was a show quality specimen, but, of course, he hadn’t been entered into the dog show because Arthur was a judge. So, why would someone steal the dog?

  I sat there, my mind going down one rabbit hole theory after another, until Crosby returned. He drove me home in silence as we were both lost in thought.

  When he pulled into the driveway, he said what I was thinking, “Looks like your aunt isn’t home.” A small muscle twitched in his cheek, and I got the feeling he was worried.

  “She probably went to bingo at the senior center. She gets home from that around ten. I’ll be fine here with Juliet.” I reached for the door handle to get out.

  His voice stopped me. “I’m just down the road, you know. If you get scared or anything, call me. I’ll be sure to keep my phone on and near me.”

  “Thanks.” The idea of being able to call Crosby if I got spooked really did make me feel better.

  “Hey.” He stopped me again. “I’m sorry dinner got messed up.”

  I shook my head. “It’s okay. I probably didn’t need a burger anyway. I’ll make myself a salad.” I jumped out of the pick-up, gave him a last wave, and headed toward the porch. Crosby kept the headlights pointing at the front door until I was inside. Once I clicked the lock home, I stood listening to the truck’s engine as Crosby retreated down the driveway.

  He’d seemed sad that we hadn’t gotten to have dinner. Had I detected a note of regret in his voice? I remembered the strange way he’d acted when he questioned me about whether the rumors that Jeremy and I were an item were true. It had almost seemed like he was . . . jealous?

  Woah. I stepped back from the door and shook my head to clear it. Where had that thought come from? There was no way Crosby was jealous about the idea of me dating Jeremy. I barked out a laugh that brought Dixon running from behind the couch, looking alarmed.

  I knelt to ruffle the black-and-white cat’s ears. “Hi, Dix. Sorry I scared you. I was just having the most absurd thought about Crosby.”

  “I like Crosby,” he purred.

  “Of course you do. He gives you soft cat treats all the time. I don’t know why he even has those in his pockets. He doesn’t have a cat.” I rubbed my nose on the cat’s face and then straightened and went into the kitchen, flipping on the light.

  Dixon followed me. “He has the treats for me. He loves me and doesn’t prattle on about my weight all the time like some humans I know.” He sounded totally disgusted.

  I gave the cat an amused look and then pulled a mug out of the cupboard. “I have to prattle about healthy weight. It’s an obligation. I’m a veterinary medical professional.” I enunciated the last three words carefully.

  “I knew it was a mistake to let you go to vet school,” he grumbled. But then he softened his words by rubbing on my ankle.

  “How about a few extra pieces of kibble? Will that suffice, Sir Grumblepuss?” I reached into the canister by Dixon’s bowl, pulled out a tiny handful of dry food, and waved it in front of the cat’s nose.

  Head swaying along with my hand, he seemed to be trying not to look too eager. “That would be acceptable,” he said gruffly.

  Laughing, I dropped the food into his bowl. All pretenses of acting cool faded away as he raced forward, skidding right into the bowl and making it slide a foot before shoving his whole head into it and munching loudly.

  I turned my attention to scrounging up my own dinner. Aunt Dru had left a bowl of soup and a piece of crusty bread in the fridge for me. My stomach growled at the sight. It sounded a lot better than a cold salad. I warmed them up and made a cup of chamomile tea. Normally, I wasn’t much for tea, but I could foresee a long sleepless night if I didn’t do something to unwind my thoughts and calm my nerves.

  I felt a bit like Dixon as I basically inhaled the delicious soup. I wished there were more bread. Carbs and I were best friends, and warm bread and butter was better than ice cream to me when I was feeling off. But, in her infinite wisdom, my aunt had only left me the one piece.

  I refilled my tea and carried the mug into the living room, settling into my favorite big, overstuffed chair. I pulled a pink and cream lap blanket over me and grabbed the novel on the end table. I’d been trying to finish the mystery for a couple of months. It seemed like something was always interrupting me. Maybe some fiction would help me relax.

  But it was too quiet. Only Aunt Dru’s grandmother clock ticking across the room broke the silence, and it proved too heavy for me. I grabbed the remote and clicked on the stereo system, scanning through CDs until I got to a nice classical arrangement, which I turned on low.

  Finally, I was ready to read. Dixon climbed onto my lap, providing even more warmth, and I figured I may end up falling asleep before I could get through a chapter.

  I don’t know whether I did fall asleep or not, but one moment, everything was calm, with music playing gently in the background and Dixon purring sweetly on my lap. The next, noise tore through the room, Dixon scratched me when he leapt off my lap, and my heart pounded like a crazy drum as I lunged to my feet.

  It took a couple of seconds for me to realize the sound I’d heard was Juliet barking ferociously on the porch. I dashed toward the door as alarm bells rang in my mind. Juliet had never sounded like that before. The first thing I thought was that she’d seen a coyote or, worse, a wolf. There were lots of coyotes and a few wolves in the area, and because we had sheep, they were always at the back of my mind.

  But there hadn’t been a predator like that on our property since Juliet came to live with us when she was twelve weeks old. Something about her kept them away. Still, I had no doubt that if one did show up and threaten the sheep, Juliet would die rather than let them get one of her charges.

  And if it was a pack of wolves, she might very well die.

  The thought made both my feet and heart move faster.

  As my hand fell on the doorknob, I had a thought that made me pause. The bark had come from the porch. If she saw a threat to the sheep, wouldn’t Juliet be out in the paddock with them?

  It suddenly felt as though ice had been injected into my veins and spread throughout my body, making me shiver and causing my heart to miss a beat or two. It was as though the organ tripped and did a somersault before righting itself and plodding along again, even faster than before.

  Should I open the door? Why was Juliet on the porch?

  But then the dog howled and broke out into furious barking again, and I knew I couldn’t leave her out there to face whatever it was alone. I yanked open the door and, quick as lightning, she barreled in past me, her fur rubbing against my leg. “Close the door,” she growled.

  I did what my dog ordered me to do and slammed home the deadbolt. Whirling, I dropped to the floor and ran my hands over Juliet’s body. “Are you okay? What is it? Coyote? Wolves?”

  “Human,” she snarled. “Someone’s slinking around out there, all along the perimeter of the house. They don’t smell right.”

  More ice skittered through my bloodstream, and I hugged Juliet hard. “There’s someone out there?” I whispered.

  The border collie didn’t answer. She stared over my shoulder at the closed door, the fur along her spine standing up. Under my arms, I could feel all her muscles tense, hard as concrete and ready to uncoil and pounce at any moment. Her upper lip peeled back from her teeth in a snarl the likes of whic
h I’d never seen on her sweet face, and she growled low in her throat.

  My mind raced. Who was outside? Was it Arthur’s killer, come to get me now that I was in his judge position at the show?

  Then I had another, even scarier thought. What if Aunt Dru arrived home and stumbled upon whoever was outside?

  That thought made me surge to my feet, and I ran back to the chair that had been so cozy only moments before. Grabbing my phone, I scrolled through the contacts and hit Crosby’s name.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “Someone’s outside,” I said. “Juliet’s going nuts.”

  He didn’t question how I knew it was a person and not an animal out there, which relieved me. He gave orders in clipped tones like a soldier. “Stay away from the windows. Find something to use as a weapon. Keep Juliet next to you. I’ll be there in three minutes.”

  The line clicked off, and I whirled around in a circle, frantically trying to find something to use as a weapon.

  We didn’t have guns, so that was out. My gaze fell on Aunt Dru’s big brass candlestick, which she kept on the fireplace mantle. It was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen, and when I was a kid, I’d fantasized about throwing it out when she wasn’t looking. But Aunt Dru loved it, so I tolerated its presence ruining the rest of the décor in the room.

  I rushed over, snatched it down, and held it close to my chest, suddenly glad I hadn’t thrown the horrible thing away. My heart still pounded so hard it was making it hard to hear anything else as it caused the blood to rush past my eardrums like huge ocean waves.

  I felt something against my legs and looked down to find Juliet had moved to sit in front of me. Dixon was behind me, crouched low. His fur was up too.

  And then a sound did get through the blood pounding in my ears. It was the creak of a board under someone’s foot on the porch. I clutched the candlestick harder, but my palms were sweating, and it felt like the makeshift weapon was in danger of tumbling from my grasp.

  Someone was on the porch.

  Though I hadn’t thought it was possible, Juliet’s body tensed even more, letting me know it wasn’t Aunt Dru out there.

  I wondered what to do. Should I hang tight and hope Crosby arrived in time to catch the intruder before they got inside, or should I rush over, yank open the door, and try to surprise them? Get the drop on them and maybe knock them out with the candlestick before they saw me coming?

  I started to move toward the door, but Juliet growled and maneuvered in front of me, forcing me to stop. She snapped at the air in front of my knee and growled. “No,” she said.

  I swallowed hard. I hadn’t really wanted to go confront an ill-intentioned stranger on the porch with only a candlestick and my dog to protect me, and I was sort of relieved to be blocked from doing so.

  The crunch of gravel in the driveway brought a surge of relief so strong I almost had to sit down. I glanced at Juliet, and she seemed to relax a bit too. “Crosby,” she said.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” I crept across the room, Juliet right next to me as though she were attached with glue, and peeked out the curtain onto the front porch. I caught a glimpse of Crosby rounding the corner of the house, heading toward the backyard.

  I stood there for what felt like twenty minutes but was probably only five until I heard footfalls on the front steps followed by a knock on the door. Juliet confirmed again that it was Crosby, and I hurried over to unlock the deadbolt and let my friend in.

  “Are you okay?” His eyes searched my face.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  His gaze dropped to the candlestick I still clenched in my fist and amused crinkles appeared around his eyes. I set the ugly thing on the decorative table next to the door, almost reluctant to let go of its comforting weight. I rubbed my arms. “Did you see anyone?”

  He shook his head and lifted his arms, and that was when I realized he was holding a box. “Nope. But I found this. Your intruder must have left it on the porch.”

  The box made a squeaking noise. I pulled up the cardboard flap and looked inside. My eyes snapped back up to Crosby’s face. He looked as baffled as I felt. “So, the bad guy left me . . . an adorable puppy?”

  Chapter 11

  Crosby stayed for another hour. He checked the property thoroughly but didn’t find a trace of anyone. While he was outside, Juliet confirmed to me that whoever had been there was gone.

  “Do you want me to stay? I can sleep on the couch.” Crosby yawned, and I realized his eyelids were droopy.

  I shook my head. “No, I’ll be fine. I have Juliet. And, besides, I don’t think two people are going to drop off animals at my house tonight.” I gave him a hug. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Anytime. I’m always a phone call away.” He choked back another yawn, squeezed me in return, and then headed out.

  The puppy woke up and fussed, whining and trying to climb out of the box. I warmed up some water and poured it over a bit of Juliet’s kibble to soften it and gave it to the little guy, who I thought was a beagle. “I’ll get you some puppy food in the morning,” I promised, stroking his silky, long ears.

  Juliet nosed around and then gave the puppy a lick on the forehead, causing his whole body to erupt into furious wiggles. “He’s cute.”

  I nodded and then knelt to give Juliet a tight hug around the neck. “You were so brave tonight.”

  She leaned into me. “Intruders aren’t welcome here,” she said simply.

  “I was brave too, you know. Just because I don’t have a menacing growl doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have scratched the heck out of anyone who came into this house uninvited.” Dixon’s cat expression looked indignant at being excluded from the praise.

  I held out one arm and welcomed the black-and-white shorthair into the group hug. “Of course you were brave,” I cooed. “You were both my knights in shining armor.”

  Juliet tipped her head toward the door, and a minute later, Aunt Dru used her key to enter the house, looking surprised when she saw me. “Oh, hello, honey. What are you doing up so late?” Then she saw the puppy and squealed, rushing forward to scoop him up mid-bite. “Who are you?” She rubbed her face in his neck, and he rewarded her with a full-body squiggle, like he was trying to climb out of his too-big skin, and a multitude of puppy kisses. She laughed and snuggled him harder. “Is this one of your patients, honey?”

  I shook my head. Sometimes I did bring home seriously ill pets for the night when I didn’t want a staff member to have to check on them before morning, but that didn’t happen too often. “Someone dropped him off in a box on the front porch.” I told her everything that had happened.

  “Wow.” She adjusted her hold on the puppy, who was wiggling so hard he threatened to topple out of her hands. “That sounds scary. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” Aunt Dru finally gave up trying to hold the pup and set him gently on the ground. He darted away to resume his meal.

  Aunt Dru giggled and reached down to scoop the little one’s giant ears out of the food bowl. “You’re going to need a bath after every meal,” she predicted before straightening and crossing to the kitchen. “Would you like some tea, Willow?”

  I glanced at my abandoned, cold cup of chamomile next to the abandoned cozy chair. “Sure, I could use a warm-up.” I took the mug into the kitchen and set it next to the one Aunt Dru had gotten down for herself. “Were you at bingo tonight?”

  She nodded. “We had a big turn-out.” She gave me a sidelong look. “And I used it to our advantage.”

  I perked up. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I took the opportunity to do some digging. Find out what my friends know about Arthur Wiggins.” When I bounced a little with excitement, she shook her head. “I came up empty, really. Everyone has a different theory on what happened and why. There’s nothing cohesive out there in gossip-land. Yet.” She grinned. “But I’ll keep at it. Usually, the way it goes with things like this is the rumors start out wild and varied but then things get whittled down unt
il one main theory . . . the one with the most oomph behind it . . . comes out on top. I’ll keep my ear to the ground and grab that one as soon as it emerges.” She handed me my full, warm mug.

  A sharp bark from the living room drew our attention. Juliet had her paw on the puppy’s head, pinning him to the floor. She cast her brown-eyed gaze on me. “You’d better take him outside,” she warned. “He has to go.”

  I chuckled, set down the mug, and hurried over to scoop up the beagle. No sooner had I set him on the grass at the bottom of the porch steps than he squatted. It was nice having an older dog around to help with house-training. It would make things so much easier.

  What are you thinking? I chided myself. I wasn’t keeping the puppy. We had enough animals on the farm, and I was too busy at work to provide enough companionship for a young dog.

  From the porch, Aunt Dru cooed at the puppy, and I narrowed my eyes at her. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

  She widened her eyes in innocence, blinking like an owl. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re going to want to keep this puppy, aren’t you?” I tipped my head and couldn’t contain a grin.

  “Well, I hadn’t thought of that, but now that you mention it . . .”

  She looked so hopeful that I couldn’t stand it. “You know I’m gone too much to justify having a puppy, but if you’re going to take on the socializing and snuggling duties, then it’s fine with me.” I ducked my head. “Not that I have any say in it—it’s your house.”

  She came down the stairs, looking like an angel as her body was backlit by the porch light, and waved a hand. “Oh, pish. It’s as much your house as mine.” She knelt and the beagle pounced on her fingers, making us both laugh. “Ooh, you’re a tiny dragon, aren’t you?” she baby-talked to the pup. “So fierce!” Looking up at me, she shrugged. “I do love him. You’re right. But I’m going to make myself give keeping him some thought for a couple of days. He deserves plenty of time and attention, and I’d have to give up some bingo and quilting sessions.”