The Case of the Jaded Jack Russell

by B R Snow

  “Oh, the dog, right,” he said, then frowned. “What about him?”

  “We’d like to keep him.”

  “You want the dog?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s had all his spirit knocked out of him, and we think we can help him get it back.”

  For some reason, he found my comment funny, and he laughed long and hard. Then he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “Tell you what, Ms. Chandler, if you can figure out a way to do that, make sure you let me in on your secret. Maybe we could work together and package it. We’d make millions.”

  Then he went off again. I ignored the condescending laugh and stared off into the distance until he finished. Then he rattled his ice cubes again. It was an annoying habit that was really starting to get on my nerves.

  “It’s really not that hard,” I said, shrugging. “It just takes time and a lot of love and affection.”

  “Then you’re definitely talking to the wrong guy,” he said, grinning.

  “You’re telling me,” I whispered into my glass, then glanced up at him. “Why’s that?”

  “You’ve never worked in a major corporation, have you?”

  “No. And I can’t think of anything worse.”

  “Well, there is unemployment, and that’s certainly not a desirable alternative. You don’t know what it’s like to try to hit a quarterly number.”

  “No, I can’t even imagine what it would be like to live my life in ninety-day windows.”

  “It’s a relentless…daily…grrrrind,” he said. “But I’m just trying to stay focused and keep my eyes on the prize.”

  “The workforce’s getting nervous, management’s acting squirrelly. You better hit it hard, and get out early.”

  “What? Where have I heard that?” Rollins said, frowning. “That’s a song, right?”

  “Yeah, a friend of mine wrote it,” I said, singing the catchy chorus silently to myself.

  “Hey, I know that song. You’re a friend of Summerman Lawless?”

  “I am.”

  “What’s he up to these days?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’s around somewhere,” I said as I snuck a quick peek up at the ceiling. Then I gave him a small smile. “Your strategy is to retire early?”

  “Yes. And hopefully on my own terms and timetable,” he said, finally starting to relax a bit. “But if the cops keep me here much longer, I don’t like my chances.”

  “They asked you to stick around?”

  “Yeah, at least until they decide what they’re going to do with me.”

  “Well, if you didn’t do it, you don’t have anything to worry about, right?”

  “You mean apart from maybe being charged with murder and having my name dragged through the mud? Not exactly the sort of press coverage one wants while he’s waiting to hear if he’s going to be given the top slot.”

  “Yeah, I get that. So what do you think about the dog?”

  “You really want him?”

  “We do.”

  “After what you did to me at lunch, you can understand why I might not want to do something nice for you?”

  “All I did was respond to your questions. It’s not my fault you didn’t like the answers,” I said. “And don’t forget, you were the one who flipped me off.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, laughing. “Force of habit. I used to do it to Middleton at least half a dozen times a day.”

  “I probably deserved it,” I said, frowning as he ordered yet another scotch. “What do you say?”

  “I’m still deciding,” he said, giving me a sly smile. “But I’m leaning toward no.”

  “No? Why?”

  “Because I really don’t like you,” he said, shrugging. “Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eating dog biscuits, but you really don’t move the needle if you get my drift.”

  “Got it. That’s probably because you don’t have any control over me.”

  He stared at me, seemed to be thinking hard about what I’d just said, and then nodded.

  “I guess that could be it,” he said, rattling his ice cubes. “But I’m sorry, it’s gonna be a no on the dog.”

  “I see. Then you probably should know that my plan is to make sure that every media outlet I can find is going to hear about Jack. And I’ll make sure to mention that you’ve hinted about putting the dog down.”

  “Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” he said, reaching for his fresh drink. “Why would any media outlet be interested in that story?”

  “Because I personally witnessed how Middleton mistreated that dog. Animal cruelty stories always attract a lot of attention, especially one involving the largest chain of pet stores in North America. And even if the media isn’t interested in the story, I’m willing to bet your shareholders and board of directors would be.”

  He set his drink down on the bar and gave me a look of admiration.

  “Playing a little hardball,” he said, nodding. “Well done. Well, I suppose it’s not the best time to add any more uncertainty to the current situation. And there’s no reason to bother our shareholders. Or the media. And certainly not the board. We’re already talking about swapping the dog out for another animal to represent the brand.”

  “If I were you, I’d go with a snake,” I said, pushing my half-full glass of wine away. “One of those really big ones that swallow things whole.”

  “There’s no need to get snarky,” he said, shaking his head. “Especially since you’ve just won the argument. Knock yourself out. Keep the dog.” He reached into his wallet and handed me one of his cards. “Call my office. They’ll arrange to get you all the dog’s records.”

  “I’ll do that,” I said, glancing at the card. “Thanks. And good luck convincing the cops you didn’t do it.”

  “I like my chances,” he said, pounding his drink. “My prints didn’t match the ones on the can of drain cleaner.”

  “That’s gotta help.”

  “That’s what I thought. But now the cops are insinuating that a guy in my position wouldn’t have any problem finding someone to do it for him.”

  “You mean, like a personal lackey?”

  “You really are relentless, aren’t you?”

  “I have my moments,” I said, tossing my bag over my shoulder.

  “It’s been driving me crazy all day, but I’m sure we’ve met before,” he said, squinting at me.

  “We have. It was at a conference in Boston a couple of years ago. We were in the hotel bar, and you were putting on the full court press. Then you said the only thing that would make me hotter was if I had your money.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, grimacing. “Now I remember. I used to use that line all the time. Amazing how many times it actually worked. If it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t have used it on you if I’d known you were rich.”

  “It’s not,” I said, shaking my head but still managing a small smile.

  “So, you really are rich?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am,” I said, frowning.

  “You guess?”

  “I don’t like to think about it.”

  “What on earth is the matter with you?”

  “There are a lot of theories floating around about that.”

  “Yes, I’m sure there are,” he said, laughing. “How much are you worth?”

  I flinched at the question. Still getting used to saying it out loud, I leaned in and whispered the number in his ear. He flinched and stared at me.

  “Wow. Really?”

  “Give or take.”

  “Maybe I should flip that line around when I use it on you, huh?”

  “No, don’t waste your time. Having my money wouldn’t make you any hotter. Unless you spent some of it on a soul.”

  “A soul? What the heck would I do with one of those?” he said, mocking me with a grin I immediately wanted to knock off his face. “Well, my offer stands. I think we could have a lot of fun togeth
er. If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he said, snapping his fingers to get the bartender’s attention.

  “Should be easy enough,” I said, giving him a finger wave as I began walking away. “There can’t be that many federal prisons.”

  Chapter 12

  Josie, dressed in sweatpants and a tee shirt I’d given her with the slogan, My therapist has four legs, reached for the bag of bite-sized and shook her head at me.

  “Use some of it to buy a soul?”

  “Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “Probably not my best effort.”

  “But you got him to agree to turn Jack over. Mission accomplished,” she said, tossing a bite-sized into her mouth. Then she glanced over at the dog who was keeping a close eye on the action. “Sorry, Jack. No chocolate for you. Do you think Rollins was the one who killed Middleton?”

  “I keep going back and forth on it,” I said, frowning. “Right now, I’m leaning toward no.” I caught her eye. “At one point, he asked me how much money I had.”

  “That was rude,” Josie said, unwrapping another bite-sized. “Did you tell him?”

  “I managed to whisper it in his ear.”

  “I guess that’s some sort of breakthrough for you, huh?”

  “Maybe. Mentioning it twice in one day must be some sort of record,” I said, then shook my head. “I have to stop obsessing about it. It is what it is, right?”

  “Yeah. It’s just money.”

  “Exactly,” I said, nodding.

  “It’s just that most of us use a wallet, while you need a tractor-trailer to carry your cash around.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Disagree,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Ten past seven. She’s late.”

  “That’s not a good start,” I said. “Interview rule number one; get there early.”

  As soon as I finished talking, we heard a soft knock. I hopped off the couch and headed for the door. I opened it, and a red-eyed Bobbie was standing in front of me. She appeared to be shaking, and I couldn’t tell if she was afraid or simply angry. I stepped back, and she entered the suite and exhaled loudly.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, literally wringing her hands. “I was headed for the elevator when the conference coordinator stopped me. Since the cops didn’t find a match on any of the fingerprints, they decided to print all of the serving staff working that night. I offered to stop by after the interview, but they were adamant I had to do it right then. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I’m late for my own job interview.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, ushering her to one of the chairs that sat between the two couches. “You’ve been crying?”

  “Yes,” she said, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

  “The cops made you cry?” Josie said, sitting up on the couch.

  “No, my brother did,” Bobbie said. “We had a big fight just before I left to come up here. And I was crying the whole time I was getting fingerprinted. The cops thought they were the reason and kept apologizing the whole time.”

  “The cops apologized?” I said, frowning.

  “Canadian cops,” Josie said.

  “Sure, sure.”

  “I can’t believe I’m late for the interview,” Bobbie said, still trying to catch her breath.

  “Well, you’re here now,” I said. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

  “Is that a test?” she said, managing a small grin.

  “No,” I said, laughing. “Just an offer of a glass of wine. But it’s nice to see you’re paying attention.”

  “If you’re having some, sure.”

  I poured three glasses and passed them around. I sat down on the couch. Jack decided he wanted a change of scenery, so he hopped up next to me and cocked his head as he stared at Bobbie.

  “What were you and your brother fighting about?” Josie said.

  “The possibility that I might be moving somewhere without him,” she said, fighting back against another stream of tears. “He got mad and said some awful things to me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Josie said. “But you two must be very close, right?”

  “Most of the time,” she said, shaking her head. “But he can be insufferable.”

  “Well, since you brought your brother up,” I said, leaning forward. “Before we start the interview, there’s something we need to discuss with you.”

  “You talked to Chef Claire, didn’t you?” Bobbie said.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, we did,” I said. “How did you know that?”

  “You wouldn’t hire the sister of her old boyfriend without checking with her first. Especially since you know that it didn’t end well.”

  “Good answer,” Josie said.

  “What did she say?” Bobbie said, shifting nervously in her chair.

  “She said if you could assure us that your brother won’t be showing up in Clay Bay, she might be willing to give it a shot,” I said.

  Bobbie stared off at the far wall deep in thought.

  “I think I can do that,” she said, slowly. “It may take me a few days to get him to come around, but in the end, Charlie always tries to do everything he can to make me happy.”

  “Do you know anything about a restraining order?” Josie said.

  “Yes, I do,” Bobbie said, sighing. “Did Chef Claire go into any details about it?”

  “No, not yet,” I said.

  “Then I’d like to let her explain what happened. If that’s okay with you.”

  I glanced at Josie who nodded in agreement.

  “Okay, fair enough,” I said, glancing at Josie. “Weird situation, huh?”

  “Weird’s a word for it,” she said, taking a sip of wine.

  “It’s sort of a first for me, too,” Bobbie said, managing a smile.

  “All right,” I said, grabbing the resume off the table. “Let’s get started. Your background looks great, and you’ve certainly demonstrated your dedication to animals.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But we do have a few questions about your pet grooming business that went under. Based on your resume, it sounds like it was very successful, and then it was gone. What happened?”

  “It went under because of this,” she said, reaching into her bag and removing a colorful, stuffed dog toy. “I’d like you to meet Wags. He was going to be the star, but that’s also what I was going to call the company.”

  She tossed the toy to Josie who caught it and examined it. Jack went on point and gave the toy a loving stare.

  “It’s cute. And incredibly sturdy,” she said, tossing it to me.

  “Yeah, it looks like it could take a pounding. Even Captain might have a hard time destroying this one.”

  “Captain?” Bobbie said.

  “My Newfie,” Josie said. “He’s known for being a bit of a bruiser.”

  I tossed the toy across the room, and Jack made a beeline for it. He snatched the toy up with his mouth and tussled with it emitting a low growl the entire time.

  “I think he likes it,” Josie said, laughing.

  “Dogs love them,” Bobbie said. “I came up with the idea and had a bunch of prototypes made. I was so sure the line of toys was going to be a hit, I sunk everything I had into it. And I thought I had everything in place for a bank loan, but then it fell through. So here I am. Schlepping food and drinks to conference goers. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Josie said. “How many different toys did you have planned?”

  “A ton,” she said, shrugging. “You probably saw on my resume that my background is in art design. But I was having a hard time finding a job in the fashion industry. So I decided to give the grooming business a shot. And one day I was shampooing this cute little beagle when the idea just hit me. Do you remember Beanie Babies?”

  “Sure,” Josie said. “I was really into collecting them for a while.”

  “And then she discovered food.”

  “Shut it.”

  “My plan was to do the same thing, but for
dogs. Well, for their owners, actually,” she said. “I was going to introduce a new toy every month in a small, medium, and large size. Do you have any idea how much money people spend on their dogs?”

  “Yeah, we could probably ballpark it,” Josie deadpanned.

  “Duh,” Bobbie said, embarrassed. “Look who I’m talking to.”

  Lightbulbs exploded in my head, and I glanced over at Jack who was on his back with the toy in his mouth.

  “All the banks turned you down?” I said.

  “Yeah, but not right away,” she said. “Eventually, they all said I didn’t have the necessary track record to pull off something like this. It seemed like a no-brainer to me. But I guess I wasn’t lucky enough to find a banker who had any vision and was a dog lover.”

  “And you had a business plan?” I said.

  “I have a great business plan,” she said, managing a sad laugh. “Just no money. Oh, well. Live and learn, right?”

  “Did you patent the idea?” I said, glancing at Josie who was beaming at me.

  “Patents, trademarks, copyright. You name it. I got it. A lot of good they did me. Talk about throwing money down the drain.”

  “It sounds like you put an awful lot of work into this,” I said.

  “Three years,” Bobbie said, scowling. “And here I am, still trying to dig out.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Bobbie,” I said. “But I’m afraid I have some more bad news for you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, but I have to say that you aren’t the person we want running our rescue program.”

  “I’m not,” she said, crushed.

  “No,” Josie said. “Definitely not.”

  “But why not?” she said, starting to tear up.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure you’d do a great job, but that would be a complete waste of your talents,” I said, unable to contain my grin. “We want you running Wags.”

  “What?” she said, stunned as she glanced back and forth at us.

  “It’s an amazing idea,” I said. “Dog people will snatch these things up.”

  “They certainly will,” Josie said. “You know, in addition to the usual distribution outlets, we could also sell them online by subscription, and each month a new toy would arrive in the mail.”