The Case of the Quizzical Queens Beagle

by B R Snow

  She looked at me, then her eyes narrowed.

  “I knew it was you,” she said. “Those two scared the crap out of me.”

  “So, I noticed,” I said, laughing. “Where’s my funnel cake?”

  “Bite me,” she said. “What’s it like back there?”

  “About what you’d expect. Smelly and dirty with lots of people doing things with their bodies I didn’t believe were possible,” I said, reaching for a handful of peanuts from the bag she was holding. “The old man who runs it is interesting.”

  I glanced out at the aerialists who were swinging high in the air above a large net and doing somersaults.

  “That’s pretty cool,” I said. “They’re good.”

  “Yeah, they are,” Josie said, cracking a shell and tossing the peanut into her mouth. “Apparently, they’ll be back again after intermission. But I’m not looking forward to the animal acts.”

  “I doubt if they’re going to be doing the animal acts today,” I said, continuing to watch the action high above the ground.

  “Why’s that?” she said, glancing over at me.

  “Because I just shot the trainer,” I whispered.

  “You shot him?”

  “Well, shot may be a bit of an overstatement. But I did get him right in the back.”

  “With what?

  “An electric cattle prod.”

  “Did it knock him out?”

  “Oh, yeah. It certainly did. When I left, he was taking a dirt nap.”

  “Did anybody see you?” Josie said.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Well done. Good for you.”

  “Yeah, thanks. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

  Chapter 6

  Four days had passed since I’d rendered Master Claude to a voltage-induced, spasming collection of flesh and dirt, and since no cops from either side of the border had shown up to arrest me, it appeared that my expertise with a cattle prod would remain a secret. Neither one of us had felt the need to share my exploits with Chief Abrams or Rooster, but they both kept giving me strange looks on the ride home when they noticed the contented grin I couldn’t get rid of.

  Since then, I’d become interested or, as Josie called it, obsessed with tracking down information that might lead me to family members or acquaintances of the late Samantha Johnson. I didn’t have much to go on other than Mr. Pontilly’s remark about her growing up somewhere around the Islands. There were hundreds of small towns and hamlets dotting upstate New York, but at least I was able to eliminate Canadian towns from my search based on Pontilly’s comment about Samantha being an all-American girl. But my search continued to be a frustrating, fruitless effort that only intensified my desire to figure out who the heck she was and where she came from.

  Not to mention getting a handle on why somebody had thrown her and the dog off the boat.

  I closed my laptop and grabbed a bag of bite-sized from a drawer and put my feet up on the desk. I glanced out the window at the play area where the dogs were enjoying the warm weather. I popped one of the bite-sized and looked at the stack of paperwork I needed to take care of before I knocked off for the day. The busy season had arrived at the Inn, and we were almost at capacity. But I was having a hard time concentrating on work given my interest in the dead woman that was Samantha Johnson-Pontilly.

  Okay, I’ll fess up.

  I was officially obsessed.

  Josie entered the office wearing her scrubs and plopped down on the couch and stretched out. I held up the bag of bite-sized.

  “Maybe just a couple,” she said, then caught the bag. “You’re not supposed to be eating these things before the wedding.”

  “Did my mother tell you to remind me?”

  “She did,” Josie said, laughing as she unwrapped one of the morsels. “My work is done.”

  I shook my head at my mother’s relentless efforts and removed my feet from the desk. I caught the bag when Josie threw it back and tossed it into the drawer.

  “I sure hope nobody from the circus wants Queen B. back,” Josie said. “It would break Sammy and Jill’s heart.”

  “Yeah, they’ve really bonded,” I said. “I should have asked around when we were at the circus. But I completely forgot.”

  “You were a little busy that night,” Josie said. “Dealing with the contract, assaulting Master Claude…bribing clowns to do your bidding.”

  “Just let it go,” I said, laughing. “It was a harmless prank.”

  “I’m still having nightmares,” she said. “But don’t worry, your day is coming.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Oh, it’s a promise,” she said, popping a bite-sized.

  The office door opened, and Chief Abrams strolled in.

  “Hey, Chief,” I said.

  “Hi, guys,” he said, then motioned for Josie not to get up. He sat down in a chair on the other side of the desk. “I figured you guys would be out on the River today. It’s beautiful out.”

  “I just came out of my third surgery of the day,” Josie said. “And I still have one to go.”

  “And I’ve got a ton of paperwork to deal with that I’ve been putting off,” I said. “Have you had any luck?”

  “Not a bit,” he said, shaking his head. “I checked the State’s birth records back to 1970 and found forty-nine Samantha Johnsons.”

  “That’s a start,” I said, leaning forward.

  “Nah, it’s a total washout,” he said, shaking his head. “Two dozen of them are under twenty-one, five are deceased, nineteen are married, and the other one is currently serving a twenty-year sentence.”

  “How hard would it be to check other states?” I said.

  “Do you have any idea how many Johnson families there are around the country?” the Chief said, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “I could probably ballpark it,” I said with a shrug.

  Josie snorted. I ignored her and looked across the desk at Chief Abrams.

  “She must have been born in another state, and her parents moved to the area when she was young,” I said.

  “Or Pontilly got it wrong,” the Chief said.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “He’s still sharp as a tack.”

  “Maybe the woman lied about where she was from,” Josie said, sitting up on the couch and folding her legs underneath her.

  “But why would she do that?” I said.

  “Who knows?” Josie said with a shrug. “But she did run away to join the circus. It’s not what I’d call normal behavior. Maybe she had a good reason for creating a cover story about her background.”

  “That makes the most sense,” the Chief said.

  “Did you check with the DMV?” I said.

  “I did. No driver’s license or car registration.”

  “Did you also check the name Samantha Pontilly?”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding. “And if she did legally change her name, she didn’t do it in this state.”

  “Missing person database?”

  “Nothing there.”

  “Criminal records?”

  “Just the one doing twenty for manslaughter.”

  “Phone records?”

  “She had a cell phone the circus provided,” the Chief said.

  “Any interesting numbers come up in the call history?” I said.

  The Chief exhaled and glanced at Josie.

  “Is it just me, or does she exhaust you as well?”

  “Rhetorical, right?”

  “Funny,” I said, giving both of them a dirty look.

  “Apparently, Samantha wasn’t much of a talker,” he said. “At least on the phone. There were just a handful of calls. And nothing in the 315 area code. Or any other New York area codes for that matter.”

  “This is really starting to annoy me,” I said.

  “Now you know how we feel,” Josie said, grinning at me.

  I ignored her and started drumming my fingers on the desk.

  “What’s
left?” I said.

  “Church records?” Josie said.

  “There are hundreds, maybe thousands of churches around the region,” Chief Abrams said. “And there’s obviously no centralized database of church membership.”

  “Schools?” I said.

  “Sure, if she went to a school in the area, it would be there,” he said. “But it’s the same problem we have with the churches. Without the name of the town, there’s no way to track her down.”

  I sat back in my chair as an idea floated to the surface.

  “Library archives,” I said, nodding.

  “Same problem as the schools and churches,” the Chief said.

  “Yes,” I said, grinning. “Except we have a secret weapon in our library.”

  “Are you talking about Ms. McTavish?” Chief Abrams said.

  “I am.”

  “Oh, she doesn’t like me,” Josie said.

  “That’s because she caught you sneaking food into the reading room,” I said.

  “She was really mean,” Josie said. “And she’s a confiscator.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “She’s caught me at least a dozen times with food. Fortunately, she doesn’t hold a grudge.”

  “How do you think she can help?” the Chief said.

  “I remember her telling me about her effort to maintain a comprehensive history of the region,” I said. “And I think she started subscribing to every newspaper within a couple hundred miles and then microfilming them.”

  “I assume we’re talking about a time before the internet?” the Chief said.

  “Oh, way before,” I said. “And I think she also microfilmed every school yearbook she could find.”

  “That sounds like an awful lot of work, Suzy,” the Chief said. “I doubt if an old system like that even has a keyword search. We’d probably have to go through each item.”

  “That could take days,” Josie said.

  “You got a better idea?” I said, glancing back and forth at them.

  “Every idea I have is better than that,” Josie said.

  “C’mon, it’ll be fun,” I said. “Just think of all the local history we’re going to learn.”

  Josie and Chief Abrams looked at each other with blank stares.

  “Do you think it’s worth putting up a fight before she eventually wears us down?” the Chief said.

  “Based on past history,” Josie said. “I’m gonna go with no.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Okay, Snoopmeister, I’m in,” the Chief said. “But if we hit a dead end, you have to promise that you’ll let it go.”

  “Sure, sure,” I said, nodding. “But I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

  Chapter 7

  We climbed the short set of steps in front of the ivy-covered library, and I held the door open for Josie and the Chief. The librarian, a tiny, white-haired woman who was eighty-five if she was a day, peered over the top of the counter and squinted at us through thick glasses then beamed when she recognized us. To local residents, Ms. McTavish was almost as much of an attraction as the River, and we all loved her to death. At least twenty years past the time when she could have retired, she continued to work five days a week, her workload lightened by two part-time workers the town council had provided several years ago.

  When I was still in my teens, I had once asked my mother why Ms. McTavish hadn’t retired. My mother had responded in no uncertain terms that the librarian, who’d remained single her entire life, lived for the job. And since taking it away could also mean the end of Ms. McTavish, there was no way she or the rest of the town council were going to take that chance.

  We headed for the front counter, and she came out from behind the desk to greet us. She tilted her head back and looked up at us with a big smile.

  “Hi, Ms. McTavish,” I said, giving her a gentle hug.

  “Suzy, it’s so good to see you,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in a while, and I was worried you might be getting behind in your reading.”

  “No, I try to read a chapter a night, just like you taught me,” I said.

  “A chapter a day keeps the cobwebs away,” she said, holding up a finger to emphasize her point. “Hi, Josie. Chief Abrams.”

  “How are you doing?” the Chief said, placing both hands over one of hers.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” she said with a well-practiced wink. “I think I’ve lost a step, but don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere.”

  We all laughed at the familiar joke.

  “Hi, Ms. McTavish,” Josie said, also giving her a hug. “You look great.”

  “Hello, dear,” she said, affectionately squeezing Josie’s hand. “I was getting ready to close for the evening, but I’d be happy to help you find something.”

  “Actually, Ms. McTavish,” I said. “We’re not here to borrow any books. We’re looking for some information.”

  “Okay. How can I help you?”

  I spent a few minutes summarizing the situation, and she listened closely.

  “I heard about the drowning. What a horrible way for a life to end. And you say that you have no idea who she was?”

  “Well, we know what’s she been doing for the past several years, but we have no idea where she grew up apart from the fact that it was probably somewhere close to the River,” the Chief said.

  “What has she been doing?” the librarian said.

  “She was a circus performer,” the Chief said. “She had a dog act.”

  “I see,” Ms. McTavish said, nodding. “And the circus doesn’t know the background of one of their own long-term employees?”

  “Apparently, she didn’t like to talk about it,” I said.

  “I see. This circus wouldn’t happen to be the same one that’s coming to town,” she said, giving me a coy smile.”

  “How the heck did you know that?” I said.

  “Dear, I may have lost a step, but I’m not a doddering idiot,” she said, chuckling. “And your reputation proceeds you.” She glanced around at all three of us. “You suspect foul play, don’t you?”

  “We do,” the Chief said after an extended pause. “And we’d like to find out if she has any family members in the area. They need to know what’s happened to her.”

  “Of course,” the librarian said. “What time period are we looking at?”

  “Our best guess is somewhere between 1970 and the mid-80s,” the Chief said.

  “Before the internet,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s going to make it much harder.”

  “Do you still have your microfilm library?” I said.

  “I do,” she said. “But I’m afraid you would have to review each item individually. The search capabilities of that system are very limited.”

  “That’s what we were afraid of,” the Chief said. “But you wouldn’t mind if we took a look, right?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “That’s why I put it together. No one has used it for quite a while. In fact, I put it in the basement several years ago to make room for the computers.”

  “Do you have some sort of directory?” I said. “You know, a list of the school districts and the towns they include. And maybe the same sort of thing for all the newspapers.”

  “I do,” she said, nodding. “It was the only way I could figure out how to organize all the information. When would you like to get started?”

  “Tonight,” the Chief said.

  “Tonight?” she said, surprised.

  “If you don’t mind,” he said. “Given our schedules, evenings are the only time we have available.”

  She stared at the Chief as she pondered the idea of having three people walking around her library unsupervised.

  “Well, if I can’t trust the chief of police, I’m in a whole lot of trouble, right?” she said, laughing. “Okay, I’ll leave you a key in case you need it. Just remember to make sure it’s locked up tight, and the alarm is set before you leave.” Then she shrugged. “Unless you’re still here
when I come back in the morning. It’s a whole lot of information.”

  She gestured for us to follow her behind the front counter and toward a set of stairs that led down to the basement. Then she stopped and turned around to glance back and forth at Josie and me.

  “Oh, but first, hand them over,” she said, gesturing with both hands.

  “What?” I said, going for confused.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” she said, not budging.

  I glanced at Josie, then we both nodded at Ms. McTavish and reached into our coats. I handed over three enormous sandwiches. Josie gave her a bag of chips and a Ziploc bag stuffed with cheese and olives. We glanced down at the floor when she gave us her best disapproving stare.

  “What am I going to do with you two?” she said, shaking her head.

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, sorry, Ms. McTavish,” I said, then took a step toward the stairs. “We’ll get started now.”

  “Hang on,” she said, still planted directly in front of the top step. She repeated the hand gesture. “Don’t forget the bite-sized.”

  “Ah, geez, Ms. McTavish,” Josie said, reaching behind her back. She pulled out a fresh bag of bite-sized Snickers and handed it over.

  The librarian turned her attention to me. I lost the staredown and removed a bag from my coat and gave it to her.

  “Thank you,” the librarian said, then focused on the Chief.

  “I’m clean,” the Chief said, showing her both hands.

  “Okay,” she said. “If I’m not feeling peckish later tonight, you can pick them up in the morning. Just head down to the basement, and you’ll find the directory next to the display terminals. I’ll lock up behind me. Have fun.”

  We watched her head for the front door then began our descent down the stairs.

  “It’s like she’s got some sort of internal food sensor,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Yeah, if she’s lost a step, I wouldn’t have wanted to cross swords with her forty years ago,” the Chief said.

  “She’s a sweet lady,” Josie said, still fuming over her loss. “But if I smell chocolate on her breath in the morning, we’re gonna have a problem.”

  Chapter 8