The Case of the Overdue Otterhound

by B R Snow

  “We have visitors,” Jessie said to both of them, then turned back to us. “Would you folks like something to drink?”

  “No, I’m good for now, Jessie,” Rooster said.

  Chief Abrams and I both declined the offer, and the new arrivals sat down at the picnic table. The man stared hard at me. Either his head had managed to grow back into a somewhat normal shape, or his long hair and bushy beard were hiding his malady. His stare flickered with recognition, then he grinned and nodded at me.

  “Hey, I know you,” he said.

  “Hello, Cooter,” I said. “How are you doing?”

  “Suzy, right?” Cooter said as he did his best bobblehead imitation.

  “That’s me,” I said, giving him a weak smile. “It’s been a long time. I’m surprised you remember me.”

  “You were one of the few folks who was always nice to me,” Cooter said.

  “I was?” I said, frowning.

  “Yeah, remember that time in second grade when I brought that squirrel I shot to Show and Tell?”

  “Sure, sure,” I said, not having a clue what he was talking about.

  “Everybody in class laughed at me,” Cooter said, glancing around the table. “And some of the kids even screamed when they saw it. But not Suzy. You know what she said when she saw me with it in the lunchroom?”

  “I can’t wait to hear this,” Rooster whispered.

  “Shut it.”

  “She said that I’d only need a dozen more and then I could make myself a real nice hat,” Cooter said, grinning at me.

  “Yeah, that sounds like something I’d say,” I whispered as I rubbed my forehead.

  “Subtle-snarky,” Rooster whispered with a grin. “Always one of my personal favorites.”

  “I said, shut it.”

  “And you were right. I needed thirteen skins. But I never had a chance to give it to you,” Cooter said, hopping up from the table. “Hang on, I’ll go see if I can find it.”

  “He made her a hat?” Chief Abrams whispered to Rooster.

  “A squirrel hat,” Rooster whispered. “I think Cooter’s in love.”

  I kicked Rooster in the shin as I glanced across the table at the woman.

  “How are you, Very?” I said, smiling at her.

  “I’m good, Suzy,” Very Friendly said. “What brings you way out here?”

  “Your Papa had an accident,” Jessie said. “A bad accident.”

  “Is he dead?” Very said, her eyes wide.

  My neurons flared briefly when she asked if her father was dead. Most people would have probably started off by asking if he was okay. I sat quietly and waited for the mother’s response.

  “Yes, I’m afraid he is,” Jessie said, placing her hand on her daughter’s forearm.

  I studied Very’s reaction to the news about her father. She teared up, then exhaled audibly and looked at her mother.

  “How did it happen?” Very said.

  “He drowned,” Jessie whispered.

  “While he was out trapping?”

  “Yes,” Jessie said.

  “Serves him right for treating animals that way,” Very eventually whispered with a shrug. “I guess Karma does have a way of catching up with you.”

  I flinched when I heard her response and glanced over at the mother.

  “Those animals are what has fed this family for years,” Jessie said, her voice rising a notch.

  “They didn’t feed me,” Very said, flatly.

  “Only because you refuse to eat what we put in front of you,” Jessie said, then glanced around the table at us. “Very’s one of those vegetarians.” Then she glared at her daughter. “But that still doesn’t give you the right to be rude.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be rude, Mama,” Very said without a trace of emotion. “I was merely stating a fact. Papa liked to kill defenseless animals.”

  “But what about all the other animals you find in the grocery store?” Jessie said. “Weren’t they also defenseless?”

  “That’s the meat-eaters’ problem to worry about,” Very said.

  “Why do I even bother?” Jessie said, staring down at the table.

  I frowned at the Chief and Rooster and wondered how the conversation had so quickly transitioned into a debate about dietary choices, but the mother recovered and got us back on course.

  “Where is Skitch’s body?” she said.

  “He’s at the funeral home in Clay Bay,” Chief Abrams said. “They’re waiting for your call to discuss how you’d like to handle the arrangements.”

  “Well, they’re going to be waiting a long time,” Jessie said.

  “I’m sorry?” the Chief said.

  “We ain’t got a phone,” Jessie said.

  “I see,” the Chief said, frowning. “Well, I suppose I could give them a message for you.”

  “Let me check to see if I’ve got coverage out here,” I said, reaching for my phone.

  “You won’t get any reception here,” Very said, getting up from the picnic table. “I think I’m going to take a walk. Would you like to join me, Suzy?”

  I looked up at her, then glanced at the Chief.

  “You’re going to be a while, right?” I said to him.

  “Yeah, there are a few things I need to go over with Mrs. Friendly. Go ahead.”

  “Sure, a walk sounds great,” I said, doing my best to sound excited as I forced my feet into action.

  I followed Very down the steps, and we walked about a hundred feet until we reached a gate in the fence that surrounded the front yard. Very held it open for me as I walked through, then she led the way through the pines and up a long, sloping incline.

  “I can’t believe he’s dead,” Very said, barely above a whisper.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, as always feeling completely inadequate with my response to the grieving. “Were you close?”

  “In proximity only,” she said, reaching down to grab a pine cone from the snow. She tossed it back and forth in her hands as we continued our walk. “That’s about the only thing Papa and I had in common. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” I said, following her path over a fallen log.

  “Why did you come along with Rooster and the cop?”

  “We have your dad’s Otterhound,” I said, coming to a stop to catch my breath. “At least, we think she was his dog.”

  “She was. Why would you have Gabby?” Very said, throwing the pine cone into the trees.

  “I run an inn for dogs. And my business partner is a vet,” I said, pressing a hand against the stitch in my side. “Rooster and I found her at the same time when we discovered your dad’s body.”

  “I see,” she said, nodding. “Is she okay?”

  Interesting. Is my father dead? Is the dog okay? I tried not to read too much into it.

  “She got caught in a trap, and her front left leg is broken,” I said.

  “That poor dog. One more example of my father’s stubbornness,” she said. “I tried to tell him it was dangerous to have her around those traps. Whenever Gabby gets focused on a scent, she’s relentless.”

  “I can imagine. But she’s going to be fine, and as far as we can tell, all the puppies are okay,” I said.

  “Puppies?” she said, frowning.

  “Yes, Gabby’s pregnant.”

  “How is that possible?” she said, staring at me.

  “What?” I said, bewildered by the question.

  Then Very laughed and shook her head at me.

  “I’m not that much of a bumpkin, Suzy,” she said, still laughing. “What I meant to say was that Gabby wasn’t supposed to have another litter until next spring.”

  “Now, I’m really confused,” I said, following her as she resumed her casual stroll.

  “Papa had her on an annual breeding schedule,” Very said.

  “Your father was breeding Otterhounds?” I said, stunned.

  “Does artificial insemination count as breeding?”

  “Yeah,
it sure does,” I said, nodding.

  “Then, yes, he was breeding Otterhounds,” Very said as she continued to climb the incline.

  “Can we stop for a second?” I said, gasping for breath as a multitude of questions began bouncing around my head.

  “Hang on,” she said, glancing back at me without slowing down. “We’re almost there.”

  I did my best to hang tough and stay close to her. A few minutes later, we came to the top of the incline where two large tree stumps sat in a clearing about three feet off the ground. I pulled my gloves tight then brushed the snow off one with my good hand and sat down, exhausted. Very sat down on the other stump and glanced around.

  “As much as I detest living out here, I have to admit that it’s pretty.”

  “Very,” I said, nodding as I looked around.

  “Yes?”

  “What?”

  “Oh, never mind. I thought you were talking to me,” she said, giggling. “Don’t worry about it. It happens all the time.”

  “Can I ask you where your father got the Otterhound?” I said, wiping the sweat from my face. “They’re pretty rare.”

  “Oh, I know,” Very said. “I’ve read where there are only about a thousand of them left in the whole world.”

  “Where on earth would you read that out here?” I said, frowning at her. “No offense.”

  “With this,” she said, reaching into the pocket of her coat and removing a cell phone. “Don’t say a word. Nobody knows I have it.” She glanced down at her phone and grinned. “Good reception today.”

  “You have a cell phone?” I said.

  “I do,” Very said. “But it wasn’t easy to pull off. Last year, my mom had a doctor’s appointment, and I tagged along. While she was there, I ducked out to the mall next door and got the phone. I even had to rent a post office box just so none of the paperwork would show up in our mail. Believe me, bills for the cell phone and my credit card would be very hard to explain to Papa.”

  “You have a credit card?”

  “Well, I had to have one to get the phone, right?”

  “Sure, sure,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Let’s get back to the dog for a moment.”

  “Okay,” she said, sliding her phone back into her pocket.

  “Where did your dad get the Otterhound?”

  “He said it was a gift,” Very said. “But I always assumed he stole it. Or maybe traded something for it.”

  “And he knew how rare Otterhounds are?”

  “I’m sure he did,” Very said. “He got a lot of money for those puppies.”

  “Gabby was artificially inseminated?” I said, fighting back against the onset of a headache.

  “Yes. Two times over the past couple of years. But if she’s pregnant again, I guess that makes three.”

  “Were you around the first two times she was inseminated?” I said, glancing over at her. She frowned at me and waited until the penny dropped. “Of course, you were. Sorry. Dumb question.”

  “It wasn’t like I watched or anything,” she said. “But Papa did tell me what was going on.”

  “Did anybody show up to give him a hand?” I said, still perplexed.

  “No, he handled it by himself,” she said, shaking her head. “Cooter was with him in the barn, but I doubt he was much help.”

  “But where did he get the semen?”

  “From a male Otterhound would be my guess,” she said, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “Funny,” I said, laughing.

  “Thanks, I’m a little out of practice making small talk.”

  “You’re doing very well,” I said. “So, your dad just showed up with the semen?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you don’t know where he got his hands on it?”

  “Not a clue,” she said. “Does it matter?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, staring off into the distance as my neurons flared. “Did people show up to buy the puppies?”

  “No, we took care of them until they were around seven weeks old, then Papa drove off with them. I just assumed somebody else handled the sales. Nobody has ever been out here to buy a puppy. You saw how hard it is to find the place.” Her phone chirped, and she glanced down and smiled. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this. Excuse me for a second.”

  I watched her scroll through the message, then respond, thumbs a blur. She waited for a response, then giggled and sent a short reply back. She slipped the phone back into her pocket.

  “He’s so bad,” she said, her eyes dancing.

  “Boyfriend?” I said.

  “Not yet,” she said, grinning. “We’ve just texted back and forth so far. But he just confirmed that he’s going to take me to dinner. In a real restaurant. Can you believe that?”

  “Hey, you gotta eat, right?” I said, shrugging. “Where is he taking you?”

  “To some restaurant in Clay Bay called C’s,” she said, grinning. “Are you familiar with it?”

  “Yes, I am. Actually, I’m one of the owners,” I said, deciding there was no reason not to divulge that fact. “You’ll like it. The chef is amazing.”

  “I’m dying for a good steak,” she said, glancing around as the snow began falling even harder.

  “Steak? I thought you were a vegetarian,” I said.

  “Only around here,” she said, scowling. “Have you ever eaten muskrat or squirrel? Or worse, possum?”

  “No, I can’t say that I have.”

  “Smart choice,” she said. “Venison is okay, and I love chicken, but if I were to eat them in front of everybody, Papa would expect me to eat everything else from the forest he and Cooter killed. My father was pretty adamant about eating what’s in front of you, and he considered it uppity for me to pick and choose. I got tired of fighting with him about it and came up with the vegetarian thing. It comes in pretty handy.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “How are you going to slip away for your date without being noticed?” I said.

  “Easy,” she said, shrugging it off. “I’ll just tell Mama I’m spending the night out here.”

  “Out here in the woods? In December?”

  “Sure, it’s not like it’s the middle of winter,” she said. “Anytime I get cabin fever and need to get away for a while, I just come out here, put my tent up, and build a fire. And as long as I catch a few fish and bring them back with me the next day, they won’t bat an eye.” Then she obviously remembered the news about her father and began to tear up. “I mean Mama and Cooter won’t bat an eye. Whew, where did that come from? I guess I can’t believe Papa’s dead.”

  “You weren’t close, were you?”

  “Does it show?” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “No, we tolerated each other. I was the daughter he never wanted. Papa only wanted boys.”

  “What did you do after he pulled you and Cooter out of school?” I said.

  “Cried for about three months, then locked myself in my room for another two,” she said, managing a small laugh. “Then I just read and taught myself.”

  “Really? How did you do that?”

  “Once a month, my mother would take me to the town library, and I’d borrow ten, sometimes twenty, books at a time.”

  “Well, you’ve obviously done a very good job,” I said, impressed by both her demeanor and maturity. “Now that your dad is gone, what are your plans?”

  “Try to convince my mother to sell this place and get the heck out of here, what else?” she said, shrugging.

  “Will that be difficult?”

  “I sure hope not,” Very said.

  “You could always just leave, right?” I said.

  “No, I couldn’t leave her by herself out here with Cooter,” she said, shaking her head. “That would be cruel.”

  “I see,” I said, impressed by her devotion to her mom. “So, when is this guy taking you out to dinner?”

  “The day after Christmas,” she said, then pointed out into th
e distance. “Do you see that path over there?”

  “I think so,” I said, squinting as I followed her arm.

  “That path winds through the back of the property and eventually runs straight into the paved road,” Very said. “He’s going to pick me up there at six.”

  “Dress warm,” I said, then caught the look she was giving me. “You know, just in case he’s late. You don’t want to get a chill before your big date.”

  “My first date,” she said, her eyes dancing again.

  “Really?”

  “Hard to believe, huh?”

  “Not considering some of the slumps I’ve gone through,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I said, smiling. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

  “Me too,” she said, getting up from the tree stump. “We should probably get back in case my mom needs me.”

  “Sure,” I said, reaching for my phone. “I just need to make one quick call.” Josie answered on the second ring. “Hey, it’s me.”

  “How’s it going out there?”

  “It’s…surprisingly good,” I said, smiling at Very. “Considering the circumstances.”

  “Yeah, a death in the family is always tough,” Josie said. “Especially the husband and father.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “The Otterhound’s name is Gabby.”

  “Cool name.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Apart from the bad wheel, she’s doing pretty good,” Josie said. “But I think she could be several days away from delivering.”

  “Which means we’ll have to delay our departure date to Cayman,” I said.

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “But that’s not a big deal.”

  “Look, there’s no reason for you to stick around,” Josie said. “I’ll stay here and take care of the delivery and surgery then head down.”

  “No, I think I’ll stay,” I said, getting up from the tree stump.

  “Are you telling me there’s a reason you need to stick around?” she said. “As in, the guy’s death might not have been an accident?”

  “No, I’m not saying that at all,” I said. “I just want to stick around and keep you company.”

  “And maybe do a little more snooping while you’re here?”