by B R Snow
“I didn’t know vets could work on people,” Inga said, frowning.
“It’s okay,” Josie said, laughing as she rinsed a clean towel in hot water. “Suzy’s part dog.”
“Funny,” I said, making a face at her.
Inga glanced back and forth at us with a confused look on her face.
“How many stitches am I going to need?” I said.
“A lot,” she said, grasping my wrist and rolling my hand back and forth. “That’s gotta hurt.”
“Nothing gets past you.”
“Okay, Inga,” Josie said, glancing around. “If you and Jill can stay here with her, I’ll go sew up the Snoopmeister. Keep swapping out the blankets and the hot water bottle every ten minutes. When I’m done, I’ll swing back, and we’ll get a splint on that leg. But if her temperature drops or if she starts whimpering or howling, let me know right away.”
“Will do,” Inga said, moving closer to the dog. “So, she’s going to be okay?”
“She’s going to be fine,” Josie said.
“And her puppies?”
“We’re going to have to wait and see about them,” Josie said. “But their little heartbeats are all good, so we’ll keep our fingers crossed.” Josie glanced at me and grinned. “You might be limited to five fingers for a few days.”
Chapter 4
At seven o’clock sharp, we entered C’s and headed for the lounge to say hello to Millie, our head bartender. We sat down at the bar, and Millie frowned when she saw the bandage on my hand.
“What on earth happened to you?” she said, pouring two glasses of Pinot.
“Dog bite,” I said, clinking glasses with Josie before taking a sip.
“You got bit by a dog?” she said, surprised. “I guess the end of the world is coming soon. How many stitches did you get?”
“Nineteen,” I said, examining my bandage.
“I was shooting for twenty,” Josie deadpanned. “But I just couldn’t make it happen.”
I gently punched her shoulder with my good hand, then we all glanced at the front door when we heard it open. Chief Abrams and Freddie, our local medical examiner, entered and removed their coats and gloves. They waved when they saw us and headed into the lounge.
“Hi, guys,” Millie said. “What can I get you?”
“Something that will warm us up,” Chief Abrams said. “Do you have that hot cider tonight?”
“We do,” Millie said. “Two?”
“Yes, please,” Freddie said, sitting down next to me at the bar. “I heard you got bit by a dog.”
I held up my bandaged hand and nodded.
“Wow, wonders never cease,” Freddie said, shaking his head. “What did you do? Try to eat out of his bowl?”
Josie and Chief Abrams laughed. I took a sip of wine and ignored him.
“What’s the news on the dead guy, Chief?” I said, swiveling my stool toward him.
“Let’s wait until we sit down for dinner,” the Chief said. “Your mom and Rooster are on their way in, and I really don’t feel like telling the story twice.”
“Fair enough,” I said, nodding. “Did you guys get wet out there?”
“No, we had our rain gear on,” the Chief said. “But it sure didn’t stop the cold. That water is freezing.”
“Brutal,” Freddie said. “You and Rooster actually went in? On purpose?”
“Yeah. And Rooster went in twice,” I said.
“Yuk,” Freddie said with a grimace. “Fortunately, my swimming the next several days will be confined to Miami Beach. I’m headed to a conference.”
“What do you do at a medical examiner conference?” I said.
“Talk about dead people,” he said with a shrug.
The front door opened again, and my mother and Rooster came in. He helped her with her coat, then removed his. I couldn’t help but notice that, instead of his usual habit of underdressing for the weather, Rooster was wearing several layers of clothes.
“Hello, darling,” my mother said, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Millie. Josie, gentlemen, it’s nice to see you.” She reached out and gently grabbed my bandaged hand and examined it. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “Josie did a nice job with it.”
“You do know that vets aren’t supposed to work on people,” the Chief said, glancing at Josie.
“Are you going to arrest me, Chief?” she said, laughing.
“Probably not,” the Chief said, glancing at my mother. “Given my recent budget cuts, I couldn’t afford to feed you.”
“Funny,” Josie and my mother said in unison.
“Oh, a two for one,” I said, laughing. “Well played, Chief.”
“How’s the dog doing?” Rooster said.
“She’s going to be fine,” Josie said. “I’m not as sure about how her pups are going to be.”
“She’s pregnant?” Rooster said. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Me either,” I said, taking a sip of wine.
“Of course, I was a little focused on survival at the time,” Rooster said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that cold before.”
“And this coming from a man who doesn’t even wear socks in the winter,” Josie said.
“Don’t worry, I’m wearing them tonight,” Rooster said, laughing. “Millie, can I please get a snifter of B&B?”
“Microwaved for twenty seconds, right?” Millie said, reaching for the bottle.
“You’re a quick study,” Rooster said, glancing at a menu. “Do you know what the soups are tonight?”
“Mulligatawny and New England clam chowder,” Josie said.
“Perfect,” Rooster said. “It’s definitely a soup night.”
“Shall we go sit down?” my mother said. “I’m starving.”
We grabbed our drinks and followed her into the dining room then sat down at her table near the fireplace. Chief Abrams and Freddie selected the seats closest to the fire and stood close to it to warm up before sitting down. Our server approached and took our orders then headed for the kitchen. Moments later, Chef Claire poked her head out and waved to us then went back to work.
“Okay,” Chief Abrams said, placing his elbows on the table. “I assume you’d all like an update.”
We sat back in our seats and nodded, nursing our drinks as he spoke.
“As Rooster said, the guy in the marsh was Skitch Friendly,” the Chief said.
“Really?” my mother said, surprised. “I didn’t think Skitch was still around.”
“He liked to spend time on the River,” Rooster said. “But you rarely saw him around town.”
“What was the cause of death?” I said.
“Well, he had a gunshot wound to the shoulder,” Freddie said. “And I’m pretty sure the shot knocked him into the water. Then he drowned.”
“What a horrible way to go,” Josie said, shaking her head. “Poor guy.”
“Yeah,” Freddie said. “For his sake, I hope he went quick.”
“I wonder if the dog was trying to save him,” Rooster said.
“It’s possible. Or maybe he was trying to rescue the dog. Where have I heard the name Friendly before?” I said, again trying to retrieve the memory.
“You went to school with his kids for a while,” my mother said.
“I did?”
“Yes, a boy and a girl,” my mother said. “They were a few years behind you, and I think they left school around junior high.”
“I don’t remember them,” I said, shaking my head.
“Of course, you do, darling. The boy had an oddly-shaped head.”
“Oddly-shaped how?”
“It was like it had been smushed,” my mother said, pressing the tips of her fingers together.
Rooster chuckled and shook his head.
“Smushed. That’s a good word for it,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.
“It looked like something an abstract painter might come up with,” my mother said. “Surely you remem
ber that.”
“Of course,” I said, nodding. “Cube Head.” Then my face flushed red with embarrassment. “That’s what the kids called him.” I exhaled as a distant memory flashed in my head. “We were pretty mean to him.”
“Not your finest moment?” Josie said, glancing over at me.
“Definitely not,” I said, frowning. “I can’t remember his name.”
“Cooter,” Rooster said, taking another sip.
“That’s cruel,” Josie said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe his parents called him that.”
“Need I remind you that you’re talking to a guy named Rooster?” Rooster said.
“He does have a point,” I said to Josie.
“I think it’s a family name,” Rooster said. “But it’s probably not the best one they could have stuck him with.”
“It’s better than Cube Head,” Freddie said, shrugging.
“And I remember his sister,” I said. “She was a nice girl and really smart. But she also had a strange name.”
“Very,” Rooster said.
“Yeah, it was very strange,” I said, nodding.
“No, that’s her name,” he said, draining the last of his drink.
“Very Friendly?” Josie said, staring at Rooster. “That was actually her name?”
“That’s right,” I said. “Very Friendly. I’d completely forgot about those two. Didn’t they move out of the area?”
“Not really,” Rooster said. “When Skitch’s folks died, they left him the family property, and he decided to move the family out there to get away from the rat race.”
“Rat race? I must be missing something,” Freddie said, frowning. “Clay Bay has a population around 1,500. Where’s this rat race he was talking about?”
“He said it got too crowded in the summer,” Rooster said. “And Skitch was pretty different from most folks. He was living off the grid before the term got coined. We always used to just call him a hermit.”
“And he pulled his kids out of school?” I said.
“Pretty much,” Rooster said. “I’d see them occasionally when I went out to his place to do some work on his truck. They’ve got at least a couple hundred acres in the woods about a half-hour east of town. You need a bloodhound and a group of trackers to find his cabin.”
“So, he was like a mountain man?” Josie said.
“If we had any mountains around here, I guess you could call him that,” Rooster deadpanned.
“Thanks for the clarification,” Josie said, rolling her eyes at him.
“But Skitch was definitely into self-sufficiency. He fished and hunted for food year-round. And he did a lot of trapping and sold the pelts. And knowing Skitch, he probably ate what he caught as well.”
“He ate muskrat?” I said, frowning.
“I’m sure he did,” Rooster said, shrugging.
“Yuk. Did he have electricity at his place?” I said.
“No, he had a generator he would occasionally use when he absolutely had to. But he had a root cellar he used to store food. Grew his own vegetables in the summer, and canned in the fall. And the cabin has a couple of fireplaces and some wood stoves for cooking and to heat the place.”
“Wow,” I said as I tried to wrap my head around the lifestyle. “What about running water?”
“Yeah, kinda,” Rooster said. “There’s a stream running through the place, and a couple of rainwater tanks. It sure isn’t how I’d like to live, but if you were going to go off the grid, Skitch had it pretty well worked out.”
“So, his family doesn’t know he’s dead?” my mother said.
“I don’t see how they could,” Rooster said. “But I’m happy to along with you when you break the news, Chief. The family isn’t exactly what I would call cop-friendly.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer, Rooster,” the Chief said, taking a sip of his hot cider.
“Me too,” I said.
“What?” my mother said, her voice rising a notch. “Just stay out of it, darling. Please.”
“No, it’s okay, Mom. We need to speak with them about their dog,” I said, then frowned. “Assuming that actually is their dog.”
“Who else would the dog belong to?” Freddie said.
“I don’t know,” I said, glancing at Josie. “It just seems really strange that family would own one of the rarest dogs around.”
“It certainly does,” Josie said. “But you’ll have to go by yourself. I need to stick around and keep an eye on the Otterhound.”
“They have an Otterhound?” my mother said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” I said.
“That is odd,” she said. “I’ve only seen one once before. A friend of mine in England has one. And it’s a lovely dog. What’s the one you’re taking care of like?”
“She’s great,” I said. “Smart and a ton of personality. And I’m sure the only reason she bit me was because she was scared to death.”
“So, she’s friendly?” my mother said.
“Very,” Josie deadpanned.
“Don’t start,” I said, glancing over at her.
“Yeah, like I was going to let that one go.”
Chapter 5
After dinner, we adjourned to the lounge, and I sat down between my mother and Rooster on a couch directly in front of the fire. My hand was starting to throb, and I gently rubbed the bandage.
“Nineteen stitches, huh?” Rooster said.
“Yeah, she got me good,” I said, my neurons beginning to flare. “What on earth was he doing with an Otterhound?”
“Obviously hunting critters,” Rooster said, shrugging.
“But where did he come across a dog that rare?” I said, still baffled. “You said the guy was basically a hermit.”
“Yeah, he was,” Rooster said. “But Skitch loved to barter. Maybe somebody paid him for something with the dog.”
“Do you think he would have known how rare and valuable that dog is?”
“I’d be surprised if he didn’t,” Rooster said. “Skitch was pretty sharp.”
“Sharp but anti-social,” my mother said, glancing at the front door and frowning. “Wonderful. We really need to come up with some rules about who can eat here.”
“Who’s that?” I said, following my mother’s stare.
“Oh, crap, not him,” Rooster said, shaking his head.
The man removed his coat, hung it on the rack then entered the lounge and glanced around. Young and smug were the first two words that came to mind. When the man spotted my mother, he headed straight for her.
“Good evening,” he said, bowing slightly. “I was hoping to find you here.” He glanced around and gave Rooster a small, friendly wave. “Hello, Mr. Jennings.” Then his eyes landed on me. He glanced back and forth at me and my mom then spoke to her. “I can’t help but notice the resemblance. Let me guess, she’s your sister, right?”
“Stuff a sock in it, Mr. Billows,” my mother said, then took a sip of coffee.
“Of course,” he said. Then he extended his hand toward me. “Herman Billows.”
I extended my undamaged left hand, and he grabbed it awkwardly and shook it.
“Suzy.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Suzy,” Herman Billows said. “That looks like a nasty injury. Did you cut yourself?”
“Bar fight,” I deadpanned.
“You should see the other guy,” Rooster said with a small grin.
Herman Billows, apparently unsure about whether or not to believe us, smiled nervously as he glanced around the lounge. “I believe I’ll have a cocktail. Can I get anyone another drink?”
We shook our heads, and he beamed at us.
“Then please excuse me for a moment while I get one for myself. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “Have you ever met anybody and developed an intense dislike for them immediately?”
“You’re an excellent judge of character, darling,” my mother said,
taking another sip.
“Who on earth is that guy?” I said, glancing over at the bar.
“He is a representative of Eclectic and Easy Energy,” my mother said. “Or as our friend Mr. Billows likes to call it, 3E.”
“They’re big in the fracking market, right?” I said.
“That’s the one,” Rooster said.
I was somewhat familiar with the drilling technique known as fracking, a controversial process used to harvest natural gas. Basically, you drill straight down into the ground, then horizontally far below the surface. Then a high-pressure mixture of water, sand, and various chemicals with very long names is injected into the rock at high pressure. The pressure creates fractures which release the natural gas. And when the wells are capped and fitted for production, the gas is extracted from the ground similar to how oil is brought to the surface.
Since our area was outside the multitude of fracking zones around the country, we’d been on the periphery of the intense battles the drilling technique had created. Proponents were quick to point out the benefits of natural gas and energy independence. Critics highlighted the environmental problems that could be caused by pumping millions of gallons of water spiked with a wide variety of chemicals, some proven to be carcinogenic, into the ground and potentially into groundwater systems.
I like to consider myself a moderate when it comes to the ongoing debate about the need for growth and development versus protecting the environment. But after I watched a documentary about the dangers of fracking and saw a family that had leased their land hold a cigarette lighter next to a faucet and stared in disbelief as the tap water burst into flames, I definitely moved into the environmental protection camp on this one. In short, the fracking process made me very nervous. But I do understand landowners who decide to lease their land due to the amount of money they can make from lease rights and potential royalties on the extracted gas.
“How do you know this guy, Mom?”
“He came to see me the other day,” she said.
“Me too,” Rooster said. “The little weasel.”
“What on earth would he want to talk with you guys about?” I said, glancing at the bar where Herman Willows was trying, and failing miserably, to chat up Millie.
