Of Birds and Beagles

by Leslie O'Kane

  The moment the door closed, I whirled around to face Russell. “You didn’t need to be rude to him. I know I went all starry-eyed on you, but that’s just the way I am with certain dogs. Meanwhile, Baxter went way out of his way to find us a possible deal on a piece of property, and you basically gave him a heave-ho.”

  “He wasn’t doing us a favor. He wants you in his immediate neighborhood.”

  “Which he knows will lead to nothing more than a friendship, because we” —I shook my finger rapidly to indicate the two of us—“are a couple.”

  “Sorry. I wanted to take you out to dinner.”

  “It’s not even six o’clock. We never go to dinner this early.”

  “I have something important to talk to you about. And it can’t wait.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ll tell you over dinner.”

  “If it can’t wait, tell me now.”

  Russell held my gaze for a moment, and apparently realized that I meant business and was not going to simply stroll off to a restaurant with him. “I have to fly to Seattle in the morning. You usually take Tuesdays off, so I thought you could come with me.”

  “Come with you? On a work trip?”

  “No, not exactly. It’s an interview. With Microsoft. They’re interested in hiring me. One of the R&D managers mentioned the possibility when I was there last month, but I didn’t think anything would come of it. So....”

  My jaw dropped.

  He gestured at the door. “That’s why this was really bad timing with Baxter’s neighboring property. I don’t want to commit to something when we might be turning around and moving.”

  I noticed the “we,” of course, but was stunned into silence.

  Russell met my gaze, showing no reaction and merely blinking a couple of times. “Two weeks ago, another manager called me, but she even told me specifically not to get my hopes too high because it was only fifty-fifty that they’d win the bid. But then she called me and said they got a green light. They wanted to schedule the interview as soon as possible...so I said tomorrow.”

  “I can’t go tomorrow. It’s too short notice. I had things that I was planning on doing. And I’ve got a full schedule for Wednesday and the rest of the week. I’m getting together with Jana to learn about training hunting dogs.” My blood pressure was rising. I literally had a vision of a house with a kennel lifting up and sailing over my head and disappearing. I studied his eyes. “Russ, you never said a word about wanting to look for a job. You’ve always told me how much you like working for yourself as a contractor.”

  “I did. I mean, I do. But...this is a dream job, Allie.”

  “So you’re telling me that if you get offered the job, you’ll take it? You’ll move to Seattle?”

  “If you’ll move there with me, I sure will. Absolutely. It’s such a wonderful opportunity for both of us. You’d love it there.”

  “We’ve never once spoken about the northwest. What makes you assume I’d love it?”

  “It’s a big city. But with lots of parks and places to go, and families with dogs. You’d have no trouble building a whole new clientele there.”

  “I’ve been growing my business here. My mom’s here. This is where I grew up. I’m not going to close it down and move. Especially not on a whim of yours, without you ever discussing it, and warning me that you were exploring it as a possible option. We’ve been looking at properties, and you’ve never said a word!”

  “So come with me tomorrow. Allie. You can explore the area and look into office space, and so forth. This would be a big salary raise. You wouldn’t even have to work, if you didn’t want to.”

  “Stop, Russell. Think about this from my perspective.” My words were getting clipped. I always start to lose my breath when I get upset. “How would you have reacted if I had just now announced that I was interviewing for a job in Seattle tomorrow, and hey, come along with me and check out the office space, why don’t you?”

  He winced and rocked on his heels, staring at the floor. “I...would probably say that I had clients to see and couldn’t go.”

  “That’s all I’m saying.” I blindly opened a drawer on my desk, just to give my hands something to do. I stared into the drawer, not actually seeing its contents, then shut it. “Let’s just get dinner on our own tonight. I need to sort out how I feel.”

  “I want to help you do that. I could be your soundboard.”

  “You’re completely biased, Russ. You’re the last person I can utilize as a soundboard.” I shut my computer and rose, grabbing my things. “Have a nice trip.”

  Creeping into my anger was a sense of despair. Until now, Russ had never been one to keep his thoughts to himself. Of the two of us, I was far more likely to spring something major on him. He’d been tight-lipped this time, because he’d realized I wouldn’t want to move across the country, and he didn’t want me to spoil his dreams. But what about my dreams?

  “So, that’s it?” Russell asked. “That’s all you have to say? ‘Have a nice trip’?”

  “Yes, Russ. We’ll talk when you get back.”

  “Fine. We’ll talk in three days,” he grumbled. “I’ll see you sometime Thursday afternoon, when my flight gets in. Have a nice evening.”

  He strode out the door without another word.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning was a Tuesday. As a general rule, I love Tuesdays. Due to the nature of my work, Saturdays tend to be my busiest workdays, and Mondays were often busy for Russell, so we’d both vowed not to schedule any client appointments on Tuesdays. Yet I was so rattled by our tiff about the possibility of moving to Seattle that I decided to go into the office and dig up some work for myself.

  We’d had a couple of reasonably pleasant phone conversations last night, since his leaving the office in a huff. We had talked around the elephant in the room—the fact that Russell was more in love with me than I was with him. My affections had been steadily gaining on his as time went on, though, and our relative positions were definitely fluid. It took no imagination whatsoever on my part to envision his becoming permanently turned off by my too-numerous-to-mention idiosyncrasies and flaws.

  Even so, last night, during one of my many sleepless jags, I’d had an epiphany that all but broke my heart. My major stumbling block was that I needed to know that we could live together, dogs and all. Those images of myself head-over-heels for Russell Greene? They were predicated on the concept that we were a true family—Russ, Doppler, Pavlov, and I. That was the one and only future I wanted.

  The flip-side of that coin meant that there was zero chance I would be willing to pack up and move a thousand-plus miles to determine if things would work or not. That realization terrified me. It seemed so scary to say to him that my love for you comes with the condition that I am still able to be myself when we’re together, and therefore we had to first take a local test drive before we drove ourselves cross-country. And yet, ever since we’d met, Russ had been there for me, every time I needed help. We were both better people because of our relationship. I absolutely did not want to lose him. It felt as though I was considering jettisoning half of my heart, and that I was going to be alone for the rest of my life.

  * * *

  I managed to shift a pair of Wednesday appointments onto today’s schedule. Both involved a couple of my longest-term clients: dogs with severe separation anxiety and a fear of strangers—a standard poodle and a large mixed breed with some Labrador genes. Much as I’d love to say that I can cure a seriously neurotic dog in a couple of sessions, it takes an ongoing effort—short trips out of the house on the part of the owner, positive feedback, and the patience and willpower not to comfort their beloved dog when it’s trembling and whining, which only leads to dogs feeling rewarded for bad behavior and learning that they truly need comforting for the ordeal of being home alone.

  While I was driving home late that afternoon, my cell phone rang. I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled over, assuming it was Russ. To my disappo
intment, I saw on my screen that it was from an unknown number, and I answered by saying: “Hello, this is Allida.”

  “This is Frank Zeller. Is this Allida?” he asked, despite my greeting.

  “Yes, is this Frank the Fix-it Man?” I asked with a smile.

  “Hi, Allida. I’m glad I reached you. Are you in Boulder right now, and might you be free to help me out?”

  “I am in Boulder, although I was just on my way north, driving home to Berthoud. Is something wrong?”

  “Well, I hope not. Shirley called me to come help her look for Toofroo. The Dachshund? Apparently he’s missing.”

  “So she lost him from her house, or while they were away?”

  “Her house. She says he was in the back yard. The next thing she knew, he’d vanished.

  That was worrisome. Toofroo was an older dog, which tend not to stray from home of their own volition. I hoped that this was not going to wind up badly. “He doesn’t do this often, does he? Wander away?”

  “No. And Shirley sounded pretty upset. She’s afraid Toofroo is in Kelsey’s house.”

  Kelsey must not be home, then. Unless she and Shirley were arguing so fiercely that Kelsey wouldn’t come to the door to talk to her. Continuing to ask Frank questions seemed pointless. “Okay. I’ll head out there right now and see if I can help.”

  “Good. Thanks. It’s probably fine. Toofroo could have gotten in through the Doberman’s old dog door. I’m not in...well, let’s just say that I wouldn’t want to assume that Kelsey is the kind of person who would simply bring Toofroo back to his home.”

  “Maybe you should call Shirley back, and—”

  “Actually, that’s what has me worried. I found out about all of this from a message she left on my phone. She hasn’t answered her phone since then. She doesn’t have a cell phone. A squirrel probably chewed through the wire on her land line again.”

  “More likely, she’s out looking for Toofroo. I’ll call you back, once I see what’s going on.”

  With the lengthy traffic lights and rush-hour traffic, it took me almost twenty minutes to arrive in Shirley’s and Kelsey’s neighborhood—the opposite direction to Berthoud. Even before I could park, I spotted Toofroo sitting on the sidewalk between his house and Kelsey’s house. Even though it wasn’t especially hot today, the poor little guy was panting, a clear sign of duress.

  Not wanting to scare Toofroo, I parked on the far side of Shirley’s driveway and walked toward him. He immediately ran toward Kelsey’s back yard, barking, and darted through the wide-open gate. The gate was wide open, and he darted through. I hesitated for a moment, but Toofroo’s behavior had me alarmed. He was acting like a miniature Lassie, urging me to follow him.

  As I rounded the house, Toofroo trotted up the shallow steps toward the dog door. Those steps were comprised of stacks of two-inch thick cement paving bricks. I was certain that the steps had been altered. They’d been much steeper yesterday. Furthermore, there was a Hansel-and-Gretel-like trail of acorns, of all things. Had Kelsey been trying to lure squirrels into her house, for some strange reason?

  “Come, Toofroo,” I called. Toofroo ignored me and pushed through the rubber flap, into Kelsey’s house. I clapped my hands and tried calling for him again.

  Toofroo stayed put. He also stopped barking. I pushed the dog door open and called for him repeatedly. I could hear barking again, but it sounded like Fang’s. It seemed unlikely that Malcolm’s dog would be inside her home. My guess was that it was Magoo’s mimicry.

  I knocked on Kelsey’s sliding glass backdoor and heard a muffled bark, as if it was coming from deep within the house. Nothing else. There were no windows in her attached garage that I could peer through to see if her car was there, but by all indications, Kelsey wasn’t home. The neighbor’s dog was now definitely in her house, and the neighbor was missing.

  I returned to the dog door. “Think, Allie,” I told myself. I should call the police. But the dog door was large enough for me to angle my shoulders and crawl through it.

  “Shirley?” I called, holding the dog door up as high as it could go. It appeared to lead into a small, carpeted sunroom adjacent to Kelsey’s kitchen. “Are you in there?”

  No answer.

  Toofroo trotted back into the room, panting and whining at me.

  “Don’t do it,” I told myself, even while I was sticking my head through the door and angling my shoulders to squeeze them through. The last time I crawled through a dog door, I found a wolf on the other side. “Come on, Toofroo. Come.”

  He turned, and once again, darted deeper into the house as if energized by my following him. He’d left a series of small paw prints on the beige carpeting. The dark prints looked like blood.

  My heart pounding, I cursed under my breath. Please don’t let me find a dead body!

  I wriggled my way through the door as quickly as I could, ignoring the acrid odor of urine. As soon as I stood up, I saw the source of the smell. A few feet away from where I stood, someone had moved a specialty brick into the house, which I’d spotted yesterday in Kelsey’s yard—when it was still where it belonged. The bricks were called “Doggie Doo-Doos,” and they had a foul smell that encouraged dogs to “do their business” in the immediate vicinity. This brick had worked recently on Toofroo in Kelsey’s house, so he’d peed on the carpet.

  “Kelsey?” I called.

  No answer.

  I didn’t want to take another step into Kelsey’s house. “Come, Toofroo.”

  Shirley’s dog remained out of sight. Following the paw prints, I turned the corner and found myself facing a hallway. Toofroo had trotted right over the barrel of a rifle halfway down the hall and into an open doorway of what could only be a bedroom.

  I stood there, frozen, staring at the gun. The barking started up again, followed by a squawk. Toofroo trotted just outside the door and sat down, staring at me. The barking didn’t stop.

  “Toofroo, come,” I said again. My heart was racing. Toofroo didn’t budge from his post in front of the door.

  Resigned to what felt like my fate, I stepped over the rifle, walked up to the dog, and looked through the doorway. Magoo was perched in a large birdcage on a stand in the far corner, but my vision was drawn to Shirley. She was lying on her back in the middle of the floor, her unseeing eyes staring straight up. I glimpsed the red stain on the carpeting around her.

  I turned away, feeling woozy.

  Magoo’s barks turned into a squawk. “Malcolm did it,” Magoo said.

  Chapter 10

  I couldn’t bear to leave Shirley’s poor little dog here alone with his owner’s body, but I also couldn’t stand to stay put. I desperately needed to get away from this scene and this house, get some air, and call the police. Toofroo allowed me to pick him up. The sweet little dog was trembling in my arms. He knew something was terribly wrong with his beloved owner. I started crying. “It’ll be all right, Toofroo,” I said through my tears, “We’ll get whoever did this. We’ll find you a new home.”

  As I reached the front door, I could see that the deadbolt was unlocked. There was a second lock in the doorknob itself, and the button-latch had been pushed in. The killer could have locked the door and then pulled the door shut behind him or her, so I didn’t want to overlay anyone’s fingerprints with my own. I used the hem of my knit top as a buffer when I gripped the doorknob, still managing to keep a solid grasp on Toofroo.

  My cell phone began to ring in the process. The instant I stepped out, I set Toofroo down on the porch, and grabbed my cell phone from the pocket of my khakis. Russell was calling from Seattle. I sat down on the top step of the porch. “Russ,” I answered, just as Toofroo climbed into my lap once more.

  “Hi, Allie. I’ve been thinking about last night, in our office. I’m so sorry. I can be such an idiot sometimes.”

  “Russ,” I said again. “I can’t talk. I have to call the police. I’m at Kelsey’s house. I found Shirley’s body in her bedroom.”

  “Good God. In...Shirley�
�s bedroom?”

  “No. In Kelsey’s. She’s not here. I let myself in through the dog door. I’ll call you later.”

  “When? Can you call me after you hang up with nine-one-one?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll try.”

  I realized that I’d just hung up without saying goodbye, but that was the least of my worries. I dialed 911. The male dispatcher told me a patrol car was on its way and asked me a steady stream of questions. Although I did my best to answer, everything felt unreal. My brain seemed to be malfunctioning. It felt easiest to give the mantra: “This isn’t really happening” free rein in my head. Although I could hear that my words were a little slurred, I maintained my conversation with the dispatcher and kept myself grounded by rhythmically stroking Toofroo’s sleek fur with my right hand.

  When two police cruisers arrived, it occurred to me that I was going to have a hard time convincing them not to call animal services—to instead let me take Shirley’s dog to Berthoud with me. The poor thing was already traumatized and would be terrified if he was forced to spend the night at the Humane Society.

  Sergeant Neustrom was a nice enough man, but he refused to release Toofroo to me until he could discuss the matter with Shirley’s next of kin—whoever that turned out to be. Thankfully, though, he could sense how important Bailey’s wellbeing was to me and took my suggestion to call for a Victim’s Advocate who could handle a pet for a day or two, instead of animal services. After I promised not to leave, he allowed me stay on the porch with Toofroo while he fetched a bowl of water for him.

  Within ten or fifteen minutes, a likable, engaging sixty-something woman arrived, explained that she was a volunteer Victim’s Advocate and assured me that she would be more than happy to welcome Toofroo into her home. She said that she and her mixed-breed dog were old hands at this and loved hosting canine guests. She also told me that they had a courthouse dog that helped console victims and quiet the nerves of witnesses. I was such an emotional mess that her gentle demeanor and soothing voice as she told me about Amigo, Boulder’s courthouse dog, made me start crying.