4 Woof at the Door (26 page)

“Good plan.”

“Thanks again. Drive carefully.”

“You, too.” He gave me a sexy smile that came all too close to melting my heart.

The next morning brought the realization that I had to start my day with a rabies vaccination. I went down to Boulder Community Hospital and took my shot in my posterior, resenting Atla, as well as Ty, Paige, and Hank, for that matter. I really, really hate shots. They checked my hand and redressed the wound, which the doctor assured me was “healing fine.” It looked pretty grim from my vantage point, but I didn’t want to argue with a positive prognosis.

Afterwards, I went to my office and was disappointed to see Russell’s parking space was vacant. Just in from the door, I checked my messages. The first one was from Russell, saying he would be at an on-site meeting all day and hoped that everything was going well for me.

A new customer had called, the owner of a golden retriever. What caught my attention was she said her dog was “having trouble because of the new security system.”

I pressed “stop” on my answering machine and dialed the woman’s number immediately.

The man that answered had such a reedy voice, I almost couldn’t tell for sure whether he was a man or a woman, but with the name “Richard,” I was assuming this was a male.

When I said that I was returning his call, he said to me, “Oh, yes. I have a problem, or rather, my golden retriever has a problem with the new alarm system I had installed a few days ago. And this guy I work with, Brad Rodgers, said you did wonders with his dog who was having separation anxiety.”

He’d named a recent client of mine. “Oh, yes. I remember Brad and his black lab. Why is your dog having trouble with your alarm system?”

“Well, see, it triggers when there are strong vibrations in one of the windows or exits. She’s tripped it by accident a couple of times by scratching at the door to get out. Now she’s petrified of passing through that back door, or even the front door. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but all I can do when I’m home is open a window wide enough for her to jump through so she can get outside to do her business.”

“Just out of curiosity, could you tell me who installed your system?”

“Sure. It was Hank’s Security Systems. Hank Atkinson himself installed it.”

Odd coincidence. “I see. Since this happened, were they able to adjust the system such that the dog can’t accidentally trip it?”

“Yeah, that much is fixed. But can you help my dog so she’ll be able to get over her phobia about our doors?”

“I should be able to do what’s called counter-conditioning with her…encourage her to expect positive results from passing through the doorway.”

“Great, ‘cause I’ll tell you, she’s one scared dog, between this thing with the alarm, coming right on the heels of the break-in.”

“Break in?” I repeated, tensing.

“Yeah. See, the house was burglarized a couple of weeks before. That’s what made me decide it was high time to invest in an alarm system, you know what I mean?”

“Absolutely,” I said, fully prepared to call My Favorite Detective one more time. The new customer set his appointment with me. I hung up and called Detective Rodriguez. To my chagrin, when I told him “this is Allida Babcock,” he answered, “Of course it is. How are you, Allida?”

After giving the detective the names and addresses of my two new clients who’d used Hank’s security systems after having been burglarized, I listened to the rest of my messages. Paige Atkinson had also called, asking me to return her call as soon as possible. I dialed, and she said, “Thank goodness.”

I could hear Sammy barking in the background.

“Doobie and Sammy are barking like mad again. I’ll bet the puppies would be too, if they were old enough to bark. It just starts up suddenly, and both of them bark, then just as if finally quiets down, they start up again. Please. It’s driving me crazy. Can you just come out here? I’ll pay you anything you want to just make these dogs stop barking.”

I drove to Paige’s house, but at the sight of Seth Mulhuniak tying his shoes in front of the fence that formed the boundary between the Atkinsons’ and Bellinghams’ property lines, I kept driving, all the while watching to see if he’d recognized me or my car. His back was to the road and he didn’t look up.

The last two times I’d been here when the dogs were barking, Mr. Melhuniak had also been tying his shoes just as I appeared. He only lived a few houses down, so frequent shoe-tying a compulsive behavior of his, but this was a man who’d gone apoplectic at my mention of Doobie. Maybe Seth was riling the dogs somehow, just to be ornery.

I circled the block, this time knowing exactly where to look as I rounded the corner. Sure enough, the moment my car started down the street, Seth Mulhuniak pocketed something and started working on his shoe laces. This time I was certain that he’d look at me through the corner of his eye, so I pulled over.

“Hello, Mr. Melhuniak.”

He merely pursed his lips and glared at me.

To give myself an excuse for circling the block, I said, “You wouldn’t happen to know where house number 2046 is, would you?”

He waved me further down the street. “Way up that-a-way.”

“Thanks so much.” I gave him a pleasant smile.

His face didn’t change.

I parked just around the corner, where Seth couldn’t see me. I waited at the corner of the Atkinsons’ cedar fence, then popped around it rounded the corner at a dead run. Seth Melhuniak was facing the fence, holding his fisted hand up to his lips. This time I got a clear look at the object he’d pocketed.

He looked horrified at me and started to walk away, toward his house.

“Hang on a minute, Mr. Melhuniak. I need to have a word with you.”

“What are you doing here? This isn’t any business of yours!”

“I’m afraid it is, sir. I’ve been hired to do something about the dogs barking in your neighborhood. That dog whistle of yours is aggravating a dog that gave birth to six puppies three days ago.”

To my surprise, he blushed and sincerely looked contrite. “Must be Samantha, the Atkinsons’ dog. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Just stop this, Mr. Melhuniak. You’re letting your anger control you. That isn’t doing you or anyone else any good. Ty Bellingham is dead. So is Beverly Wood. This has to stop.”

“You don’t understand! Tyler Bellingham took my dog from me! That crazy wife of his was in on it, too! I’m sure of it!”

“You mean, Doobie was yours?”

“No. He’d get Doobie to bite him, then he’d run to the doctor for medical care, and claim somebody else’s dog bit him. They’d have an out-of-court settlement rather than risk losing their dog. Only I didn’t have enough money to suit him. The judge didn’t believe me. He forced me to put my Ezra down.”

“Oh, my God. I…had no idea.”

“I’m not the only sucker he pulled this on. He did it to at least two other people. Course, he didn’t pull it in the same town each time. He wasn’t that stupid. He’d pull his routine in Broomfield once and another time in Denver. The guy was as rotten as they come.”

“The Atkinsons have newborn puppies. If you’re interested in one of—” He was shaking his head so hard, I stopped.

“Don’t want a puppy, thank you very much. Just want my own dog back. But I can’t get him.”

“There are some wonderful full-grown dogs at the Boulder Humane Society, Mr. Melhuniak. You can get a dog that’s been trained by volunteers, such as myself.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll think about that, one of these days.”

“In the meantime, I’ve really got to ask you not to blow that dog whistle.”

He took the whistle out of his pocket and studied it. “Gig’s up. Guess I’ll have to retire this thing.”

“Thank you. And I truly am very sorry that you lost your dog over this, Mr. Melhuniak.”

He took a couple of steps down the sidewalk, then, to my complete surprise, said, “If we ever run into each other again, call me Seth.”

As I headed back for my car, I saw Rebecca, seated on the bottom step of Beverly’s front porch, which had had its police cordoning removed. I shored myself up, and walked up to her. With a blank expression on her face, she watched me approach.

“Rebecca. Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to keep going, you know? The business. Everything. It’s all falling to pieces.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you? I was hoping you’d get in touch. After I left your office, I went to the police, just like I said I would. They didn’t tell me anything. I don’t know for sure, but I still think they’re pretty sure Beverly did it. Killed Ty Bellingham, I mean.”

“I hope not.”

“Meaning you hope she didn’t, or that the police don’t suspect her?”

“Both.”

Her eyes were so dull-looking. I was uncomfortable talking to her. She made me nervous. “Can you tell me again exactly what Beverly said during your last phone conversation?”

“She said something like, ‘Don’t say anything to Allida Babcock about that pit bull I had for a while last winter. The police suspect me, and I don’t know why. I didn’t kill Ty Bellingham. He was a sick man and deserved to be put out of his misery.’“

“Didn’t you say she also mentioned the phone cord?”

“What phone cord?” she asked.

“At Ty Bellingham’s house. You told me she said that Ty’s phone cord had been cut.”

“I can’t remember anything about that.”

“Rebecca, I’m positive. You told me that Beverly said the—”

“Stop it! I said no such thing! You’re harassing me, just like Beverly always used to.” She dashed back to her car and drove away.

Chapter 19

The next morning, it occurred to me that Beverly’s extended family might know about the pit bull. It was a long shot, but I had wanted to contact Beverly’s family anyway to ask what I should do about Beagle Boy. The four dogs greeted me enthusiastically in the kitchen, and Sage let out a sharp reprimand when Beagle Boy tried to butt in line.

I let Doppler and Pavlov out the sliding glass door, but Sage and then Beagle Boy went trotting off the opposite direction in search of Mom. I looked in the Berthoud directory for a listing under the last name of “Wood.” There was none. With Sage dutifully a step behind, Mom came into the kitchen.

“You don’t happen to know where Beverly Wood’s parents are now, do you?” I asked.

Mom grabbed a mug off the small wooden cup holder beside the sink. Beagle Boy dashed into the kitchen, sliding a little on the linoleum floor, and promptly whined at Mom for a treat. We ignored him, although, in a show of disgust and superiority, Sage sat down in the middle of the kitchen with his back to us.

“Sam Wood died eight years ago, and Millie moved to Greeley a few months later.”

“I didn’t realize you knew them that well.”

“I don’t.” She filled her cup with sink water, Beagle Boy begging all the while. In spite of Sage’s attempts to sulk, his head was turned so as to keep a wary eye on our canine guest. “Right around the time Mr. Wood passed away, the wife of their former neighbors bought flying lessons for her husband’s fiftieth birthday. Want Millie’s address?”

I found Mrs. Wood sitting on her front porch when I drove up. It had been some fourteen or fifteen years since I’d last seen her, and I wouldn’t have recognized her. She was on an old wicker rocking chair, staring out with what looked like apathy as I approached. She looked to be in her late seventies, white hair in a bun, her skin seemingly folding in on itself.

“Mrs. Wood? I’m Allida Babcock. I called an hour or so ago. I was friends with your daughter.”

She stayed seated, but stopped rocking. “Oh, yes. Allida.” She smiled, and now I recognized some of the facial features Beverly had inherited: the angular nose and chin, the gray eyes. “I remember you. Last time I spoke with Beverly, she told me you two were on a team together, again. Softball, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. She was our pitcher. I’m so terribly sorry that this happened.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, her gray eyes clouding. “No parent should ever bury a child. It’s not the way life should be. Are you coming to the service tomorrow?”

It felt as though her grief was pressing against my own heart, making it hard for me to breathe. “Yes. I’ll be there. So will my mother. She asked me to pass along her condolences, as well.”

She gave me a little nod. “I spoke with Officer Rodriguez yesterday about taking care of Beverly’s house and everything. He told me you had Beagle Boy.”

“Yes, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Do you know of anyone in the family who would want to adopt him?”

She shook her head. “We discussed the matter amongst ourselves. Her sisters and I all have dogs ourselves and don’t feel they’d get along with her Beagle. I could take him in for a while, though, and put up some free-to-a-good-home signs.”

I automatically winced. Dog-fighter rings periodically scanned free-dog ads sometimes wound up as “If you’re certain you don’t want to adopt Beagle Boy yourself, I’d be happy to find a good home for him myself. I work with dogs for a living, and I could thoroughly check out the adoptive family to make sure it’s a good match.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Allida. So long as my daughter’s pet finds a good home, one dog is plenty for me.” The slightest hint of a smile returned to her features. “Would you like to meet my dog? He puts all of those cliches about vicious pit bulls to shame.” She rose and pushed open the screen door. “King, come here, boy.”

Out trotted the dog from Ty’s video.

My initial shock quickly changed into feelings of concern and confusion. Why had Beverly lied to me about King’s whereabouts? I knelt on the gray-painted wood porch and petted his flawless brindle coat. He sat down beside me, lavishing the extra attention, acting not the least bit territorial. Pit bulls had fallen drastically in the court of public opinion from their heyday as the smiling dog in the Buster Brown shoe ads.

“He’s a nice dog, all right. How did you come to own King?”

“He came to me thanks to Beverly,” she said with a sigh, returning to her seat. “She’d rescued him from that hideous man who used to live next door to her.”