Murder, She Barked

“No. My parents came up here on vacation and fell in love with the place. Dad had this crazy idea to open an old-timey pharmacy, and Mom had always wanted to breed ocicats, so instead of planning for retirement, they moved to Wagtail to do what they love.” He placed my purchases in a bag. Like Ben, he was medium height, but he seemed happier, more relaxed than Ben. He smiled as he spoke, drawing me in with his warmth. “I didn’t have any intention of moving here, but when I came to visit last Christmas, I didn’t want to leave. And here I am! There’s something addictive about Wagtail.”

The man behind me seemed a little pressured. After I paid, I paused to feed the dog her treat.

The pharmacist greeted the man like an old friend. “I’ve got your son’s asthma inhaler right here, Del.”

Del dumped a jar of loose change on the counter. “I don’t know that I’ve got quite enough.”

“Close enough for me.” The pharmacist didn’t bother to count the money. He handed him the bag with a smile. “Give Hazel Mae my best.”

I left the store, impressed by the pharmacist’s generosity.

Across the way, a woman rolled a rack of dog coats out of a store called Putting On the Dog. I headed for the store, hoping she carried more mundane items like collars and leashes. As we approached it, my dog came to a complete halt. She refused to walk one more step.

Thinking she might need a doggy bathroom, I looked for one along the grassy strip, and sure enough, there were areas marked for that purpose. I led her over to one. She sniffed but showed no signs of needing to relieve herself.

“We’re going back to that store because you deserve a real collar with your name on it.” The inn collar was fine, although it clearly wasn’t meant to replace a regular collar. But she didn’t have a name yet. “What was your old name? Spot? Snowflake? Spunky? Maggie? Lulu? Zola?” She listened to me very politely but didn’t react to any of them. “We’ll get you a collar, and add your name later on. For now, we’ll just make sure my name and number are on the tag, in case you get lost. Okay?”

I took her wagging tail to mean she was in agreement. But when we neared the store, she balked and planted her feet firmly.

I tugged gently, “Come on, sweetie.”

Nothing doing. I picked her up and carried her into the store. Collars and leashes in every imaginable color lined a wall. Perfect. “A white dog can wear any color. What do you think?” I shifted her so I could reach the collars with my right hand. “Something pink and girlie? A bold red? Or would you prefer sky blue with daisies on it?”

She didn’t wriggle or move. In fact, she seemed scared, like she had in the bathtub the night before. I set her on the floor and stroked her head. “It’s all right, sweetie pie.”

A pair of truly large feet clad in silver sequined sneakers came to a halt at the dog’s nose. I stood up, but still had to look up to the woman’s face. She towered over me. I was used to everyone being taller than me, but this woman had to be well over six feet tall.

She’d pulled her light brown hair into a ponytail and wore no makeup at all. Large eyes and a voluptuous mouth filled her broad face. She was stunning.

My dog didn’t seem to like her, though. She backed away.

“You need a collar?” She plucked a hideously ugly gray and black one off the wall. “Let’s try this on for size.”

Scooping the dog up in her arms, she walked over to the open door, set the dog down, removed the inn collar and pinched the dog’s behind!

The dog and I yelped simultaneously. My dog took off running as fast as she could.

“Whoops!” The woman turned to me with a smile that put dimples into her cheeks. “Sorry.” She shrugged.

I dashed out of the store after the dog. Ack! She didn’t have a name. “Doggie! Little one. Here, sweetie!”

The man who had bought medicine for his child spied me. “Looking for a Jack Russell?”

“Yes!”

“She went thataway.” He pointed down the side street.

My heels weren’t made for running. I would never catch up to her. Taking a chance with rocks and heaven knows what, I removed my shoes and ran down the street, calling, “Sweetie! Puppy!” Six blocks later, I was forced to acknowledge that she could be anywhere—behind a fence, in a garden, under a bush, or still running like the wind to get away.

I’d spent less than twenty-four hours with her, yet I felt her loss like a death. The last couple of weeks had been nothing but a slew of problems—first the nightmare at work, then Kim chasing Ben, now Oma and her mysterious illness, and the attack on Mr. Luciano—but this was the catalyst that made me want to melt down and cry. My poor little dog, lost and alone again.

Across the road, in a farm field, a young rabbit watched me without moving. She folded her ears flat against her back. Did that mean a wild little dog had zoomed by her recently or that she was afraid of me? Beyond the farmhouse in the distance, the woods held dark secrets. If my dog had run that way, she could be lost forever.