Furbidden Fatality

by Deborah Blake

  Falco raised an eyebrow. “You let that kitten go in the dog area?”

  “It’s less a matter of ‘letting’ and more a matter of her going wherever she wants,” Kari explained. “She’s my personal cat, not one of the shelter’s. In fact, she’s the reason I ended up owning the place. I found her as a stray not too long ago and she’s been bossing me around ever since.”

  To Kari’s surprise, the dog warden laughed. “I have one of those. Her name is Sugarsnap and she’s a rescue too. She’s a tortoiseshell and she’s got ‘torti-tude’ in spades. I named her Sugarsnap because you never know if she’s going to curl up with you sweetly or go for your throat. Mostly I find it easier to just do what she wants.”

  Kari laughed back at him. “Queenie never seems to get nasty, but she can definitely give attitude with the best of them.” She opened the door. “Come on in. I apologize in advance for the noise. The place could use sound baffles but they’re pretty low on the list right now.”

  The dogs started barking as soon as they entered the kennels, and a few of the more exuberant ones jumped up and down at the front of their cages. They stopped in front of the pit bull, and Queenie immediately squeezed through the space underneath the kennel door and went inside to leap on her buddy’s back. They could hear her purring from where they were standing. Buster reached his massive head around and gave her a lick that almost sent her tumbling to the floor.

  “Well,” Falco said. “Isn’t that something. You’re sure she’s safe with him?”

  Kari didn’t bother to say anything, since the answer was clear. Instead, she just pulled a couple of treats out of her pocket and put her hand through the bars to allow Buster to snuffle them out of her fingers. He sat down on his haunches, giving them the typical lolling-tongue pittie grin and a friendly woof. Queenie slid down onto the floor and looked up at him reproachfully but stayed right by his side.

  “Buster, this is Jack. Can you say hi?” Daisy had been spending extra time with the dog, just in case, and had taught him a couple of tricks. Now he put one paw out and barked. Kari thought it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

  Apparently Falco wasn’t immune either. “I have to say, he sure doesn’t act like any vicious dog I’ve ever met. Although sometimes aggressive behavior is situational. Ms. Parker’s statement says that he gets along with other dogs, even the smaller ones?”

  “He does.” Kari nodded. “Dogs, cats, people. Like I said, he’s a sweetheart. There’s no way he bit that man, not even if he was provoked. I know pit bulls look fierce, but Buster doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

  “How do you explain the report, then?” Falco asked, holding out his clipboard.

  “I’ll tell you how I explain it,” Kari said. “Myers lied.”

  Falco’s jaw dropped. “Are you accusing him of falsifying a report that would label a dog as dangerous and lead to him being euthanized? No dog warden would do that!”

  “You didn’t meet this one,” Kari said, bitterly. She reached through the bars and scratched Buster on the head, then snapped her fingers at Queenie to signal that they were leaving.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t believe any dog warden would do such a thing,” Falco said. “I’m still trying to track down the man who was bitten, but when I do, I’m afraid this will have to go back to court.”

  Their brief détente seemed to have vanished, and Kari walked back out front with him without either one of them saying another word.

  Ten

  That night, after all the work was done at the shelter and everything was quiet (at least for the moment), Suz, Sara, and Kari gathered together at Kari’s house over pizza and wine to look at the records Rachel had given them. Bryn was at her other part-time job and couldn’t join them, although they’d promised to report to her if they came up with anything useful.

  After a brief argument about which kind of pizza to get—Suz insisted that putting pineapple on pizza was an abomination and Sara hated pepperoni, so they ended up with sausage and mushroom on one half and extra cheese on the other half—and whether you should have red wine or white with pizza (they eventually opened a bottle of each), they finally sat down to eat.

  Kari’s house was still not really set up for visitors, although it was better than her apartment had been. At least she had an actual living room, a kitchen, and a dining area downstairs, with two reasonably sized bedrooms upstairs. And a bathroom on each floor, which she considered the height of luxury (even if they were both out-of-date and decorated in the height of 1960s style).

  She still hadn’t gotten around to buying a new couch, although her ratty old sofa had at least been dressed up by a pretty garnet-colored cover that Suz had given her as a housewarming present, and her battered recliner had been so uncomfortable, Kari hadn’t even bothered to move it. So for this meeting, she had pulled one of the folding chairs she used at the kitchen table over to where Sara and Suz sat on the couch, and they spread both food and folders out on the low wooden coffee table that lived in front of the sofa.

  For a while there was silence as they ate and passed the paperwork around the table. Queenie snitched a couple of tiny pieces of cheese and then retreated to the top of the cat tree to supervise.

  “Huh,” Suz said finally, pouring a little more Chablis into her glass. “She wasn’t wrong. Rachel, I mean. There’s something not quite right here. It would help if we had other records to compare these to—previous dog wardens, or some kind of general statistics—but it looks to me like there are an awful lot of cases for one dog warden.”

  “That’s what Jack Falco, the new warden, said,” Kari admitted, reluctant to give him any credit at all. She had already told them about the rest of his visit.

  “Not just a lot of cases, but especially those that involve loose dogs, dogs without tags, and dogs that are off their owners’ property,” Sara added. “All of which are circumstances when a dog warden can seize a dog and write a ticket. Some of those tickets end up being pretty expensive, especially for repeat offenders.”

  She tapped her fingers on the table. “Not that I’m advocating allowing dogs to run around willy-nilly. There’s a guy in my neighborhood who never ties up his beagle, and the thing is always wandering into my yard and digging up my flowers.”

  Kari held up a couple of pieces of paper. “There’s definitely something not kosher going on here, although I can’t for the life of me figure out how he benefits. I mean, the dog warden position is salaried, right? The money for the fines goes to the town, as I understand it.”

  Suz nodded. “It does. But you’re right about something being off with these records.” She grabbed a brownie off a plate in the middle of the table that Sara had brought with her. “Mmmm. You make the best brownies, Sara.”

  “I add three different kinds of chocolate chips,” Sara said with a smile. “It’s hard to mess that up.” She reached for one herself.

  “There’s something else odd here,” Kari said after jotting down some notes. “Did either of you notice that Deputy Carter’s name seems to crop up in these reports a lot?”

  Sara chewed the piece of brownie in her mouth and swallowed before answering. “I did, but I thought maybe it was just a coincidence.”

  “I don’t see how it can be a coincidence that he seems to come across a large number of loose or dangerous dogs while he’s out on patrol,” Kari said. “I mean, maybe he just happens to patrol neighborhoods with an unusual amount of irresponsible owners, but it doesn’t seem likely.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Suz said, her brow wrinkled. “But it doesn’t make a lot of sense. A deputy wouldn’t benefit from large numbers of dogs being ticketed any more than the dog warden would. I can’t imagine the sheriff giving him a merit raise for harassing dog owners.”

  Sara shook her head. “We can’t ask Myers about it because he’s dead.”

  “I’m sure as heck not going t
o ask Deputy Carter,” Kari said. “Somehow I don’t see that going over well.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Suz said. “I recognize some of the names on these lists of folks who got repeated tickets. I groom their dogs. Maybe I can try talking to a few of them and see if they have explanations that aren’t obvious to us.”

  They kicked around a few more ideas, but didn’t really accomplish anything other than putting a noticeable dent in the plate of brownies. Suz and Sara finally left around nine, promising to keep thinking about the information. They all had the nagging feeling they were missing something, but they couldn’t figure out what.

  * * *

  * * *

  In the morning, things didn’t exactly improve.

  “You have got to be kidding,” Kari said when she opened the door at seven to find her brother standing there, a big grin on his handsome face.

  “Hi, sis!” Michael Stuart Jr., known as Mickey, was three years younger than her and they couldn’t have been more different. The long-awaited son had been spoiled rotten as a child and had already been running wild by the time their mother died of cancer when he was sixteen. Without her influence to restrain him, and with Michael Sr. as an example, he’d taken up drinking, drugs, smoking, and motorcycles. Not necessarily in that order.

  Like his father, he was absurdly attractive and charming to women of all ages, many of whom he lived off until he got tired of them or they got tired of his complete lack of responsibility. He blew into Kari’s life every once in a while, usually when he wanted something. She loved her little brother, but she had given up any illusions she had about him long ago.

  His curly brown hair was neatly trimmed and his large brown eyes with their ridiculously long eyelashes seemed clear, albeit filled with dancing laughter. A fancy bright red Honda motorcycle sat next to her beat-up Toyota, which she still hadn’t gotten around to replacing.

  “Hello, Mickey,” she said, more resigned than upset. “You might as well come in.”

  Her brother jerked his head toward the field. “Are those chickens?”

  The birds in question were wandering slowly in the direction of where he’d parked his bike, probably attracted by all that shiny metal. The chickens, which had belonged to Daisy and which Kari had apparently inherited along with everything else at the sanctuary, were brown and tan, and free range in the most extreme example of the word. She never had any idea where she was going to find them, although at night they usually made their way back to their coop without too much encouragement.

  Periodically she found pale green or brown eggs that some hen had laid and then wandered off and forgotten about. Kari wondered if she was a bad person if she kind of hoped one would find its way onto her brother’s flashy motorcycle.

  “Yes, they are,” Kari said. “And no, I’m not going to give you any money, if that’s why you came.”

  Mickey just chuckled. “How about some breakfast, then? I’ve been driving for hours.”

  He grabbed a piece of toast as he sat down, the one she’d been just about to eat when he knocked on the door. Kari put a cup of coffee in front of him and got one for herself before joining him. She might as well get this over as soon as possible so she could get back on with her life.

  “This is charming, sis,” Mickey said, waving the piece of toast at Kari, splattering marmalade onto the floor. Fred, who was sitting in his usual spot under the table, cleaned it up right away, his tail wagging. Unlike Queenie, who looked as though she was reserving judgment, Fred was fairly indiscriminating in his affection for people.

  “Hi, Fred,” Mickey said, having met the dog on previous visits. “Cute kitten. Is she new?” He went on without waiting for Kari to answer. “You know, sis, I could never understand why you chose to come back to this hick town after your divorce. And now you’ve actually moved even farther away from the little bit of civilization available in town to live in this shack miles away from anything. What on earth were you thinking?”

  I was thinking you’d never come looking for me here, for one thing. “I like it out here,” she said in an even tone. “And the house comes with the shelter next door, which is really why I bought the property.”

  Her brother stared at her. “You bought this shack? And a shelter? Why on earth would anyone buy a shelter?”

  “So I could do something good with my life. Something that helps both animals and people. I realize that’s not anything you would ever consider doing with a lottery win, but it makes me happy.” Kari sipped her coffee calmly. Wait for it . . .

  “Ah, well, if it makes you happy, sis,” Mickey said, shaking his head. “You know I’ve never wanted anything but the best for you. I couldn’t believe it when an old friend from town sent me a copy of the newspaper article with your picture on the front page. Congrats.”

  “Thank you,” Kari said. “You are so kind. I’m still not giving you any money. You’d just blow it on women and booze and goodness knows what else. Besides, I’m spending pretty much all of it fixing up the shelter.” She looked around at the house, which was in truth, kind of a wreck, although a reasonably cozy one. “And the house, eventually.”

  “I’m not drinking anymore, Kari,” Mickey said. “No drugs either. Clean and sober for months now.” He looked earnest, but with her brother it was always hard to tell.

  “If that’s true, I’m really pleased,” Kari said. “But it doesn’t change anything. You weren’t around when I was poor or in the middle of a terrible divorce or grieving for Mom. So don’t expect me to believe you suddenly find me fascinating just because I won a little money.”

  “Five million dollars isn’t exactly ‘a little money,’ now, Kari,” Mickey said. “Surely even with your pet project, there’s enough to share with your family.”

  “Pet project, hah. Not one penny,” Kari said. “And now that you’ve had breakfast, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. It has been great to see you, but I have work to get to, and this discussion is over. Scoot now.”

  Mickey shrugged. “What kind of work? I’ve got nothing planned and no place I have to be. Maybe I can help.”

  There was a first time for everything. “Oh, really? How do you feel about cleaning litter boxes and dog cages?” Kari crossed her arms, waiting for him to find some excuse to leave after all.

  “I’ve done worse, I suppose,” he said with a grin. “Come on, why don’t you show me this money pit you’ve bought with the windfall you could have shared with me.” Queenie got up and strolled to the door behind him and Kari gave up.

  “Sure,” she said. “Why not?” She gave a grin of her own at the thought of him trying to charm Sara, who’d (barely) put up with his antics in school. “And you’re never going to believe who volunteers at the shelter. Boy, have I got a surprise for you.”

  Eleven

  Mickey Stuart,” Sara said. “I should have known you’d turn up like a bad penny.”

  “Aw, Mrs. Hanover, you know I was always your favorite,” Kari’s brother said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “I didn’t have favorites,” Sara said, shaking her head. “And if I did, you certainly wouldn’t have been one of them.” But a tiny smile played around the corner of her lips. The truth was, Mickey had charmed all the teachers too.

  Around them the work of the morning was under way. All the windows had been replaced the previous day, so the cats were back in their room with the exception of the two sick kittens and Tinkerbell, who was still in a cage up front nursing a bandaged foot and a serious grudge. One of the volunteers was cleaning the litter and putting out new food and water for the cats in the feline room, while Jim was out back cleaning the dog kennels.

  Sara and Bryn had been in the main room when Kari came in with her brother. Sara was working on the last of the paperwork and Bryn had the kittens and Tinkerbell in carriers so she could clean out their cages.

  “Bryn, this is my brother,
Mickey,” Kari said. “Don’t believe a word he says about anything.”

  “What kind of introduction is that?” Mickey said, an exaggerated hurt look on his face. “Especially to such a beautiful lady.”

  Bryn was wearing her faded work jeans and a worn tee shirt that said I’m a vet tech. What’s your superpower? It already had several stains on it that were better left unidentified. “You’re kidding me, right?” she said to Kari.

  “I wish,” Kari said. “He says he’s willing to clean up poop. Feel free to put him to work.”

  “Oh, let me,” Sara said with an evil grin. “The antibiotics Tinkerbell are on are giving her diarrhea.”

  “Don’t worry,” Bryn added. “I’ve got her on probiotics. She should be fine in a couple of days.” With a deceptively benign smile, she handed Mickey a garbage bag, some paper towels, and the spray bottle of pet-safe cleaner. “But we wouldn’t mind the help cleaning up in the meanwhile.”

  Mickey put on a brave face. “The things I do for love of my sister,” he said.

  “Or her lottery winnings,” Kari muttered. But honestly, it was worth it to watch him try to win over Bryn while scrubbing out cages.

  * * *

  * * *

  I’ve got Stardust and When Harry Met Sally,” Suz said when she came over that evening for their weekly pizza and movie night. Neither of them cared that they’d already had pizza once that week. “And the latest Avengers movie in case you’re in the mood for things blowing up.”

  “You have no idea,” Kari said. “And there better be double cheese on that pizza.”

  “What am I, an amateur?” Suz said, putting the pizza box down on the kitchen table. “Of course there’s double cheese. Tough day?” She gently removed Queenie from the table, where the kitten was continuing to ignore the “no cats on kitchen surfaces” rule.

  “I’ve had better,” Kari said. “But I’ve had worse. At least I didn’t find any dead bodies.”