Drool Baby (A Dog Park Mystery) (Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries) (18 page)

Anna looked up from her crossword puzzle. "What?"

"It's Renee. She's been threatening to bring her dog to the park, but I never thought she'd do it."

Lia jumped off the picnic table and ran to the park entrance, followed by her furry trio. She stopped twenty feet short of the corral. "I'd come closer,
Renee, but I don't want these hooligans to crowd Dakini when she comes in."

Renee entered the corral with her beautifully groomed collie. Dakini sat and waited to be unclipped from her leash. "Look at that well mannered young lady.
Do you think you could do that?" Lia asked her pack. The look they gave her had 'you've got to be kidding' written all over it.

Renee opened the inner gate, and still Dakini sat. Then Renee said something and Dakini bolted through the opening and raced to greet Lia. Lia patted her
head, then Dakini set about the business of greeting Lia's motley crew, which was getting motlier by the second. The four dogs completed their round of
sniffing. Honey made a play bow and raced off. The others ran after her.

"Geezelpete, Renee, if I had known Dakini was going to come here and show everyone up with her fine education, I never would have invited you. I'm going to
put a sign on the gate, 'Obedience School Dropouts Only.'"

Renee laughed. "She doesn't do it on purpose."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. She's so gorgeous. Look at her run. You must spend hours brushing her."

"It's not too bad if I do it every day. I've got to keep her coat up. If I don't, she sheds everywhere and Esmerelda would leave."

"And no more eggs Benedict," Lia concluded.

"And that would be so sad," Renee pouted.

The pair walked back to the picnic table where Anna consulted Terry about her crossword and CarGo lolled. Jackson busied himself digging a hole under the
table.

"Anna, Terry, meet Renee," Lia said.

"Hi," Renee said, "I've heard so much about you."

"Thank you," Anna said. "So you're Lia's new patron. Nice to meet you."

"So, how's the crossword coming?" Lia asked.

"We're stuck on Hans Christian Anderson's birthplace. Six letters," Terry said.

"Not a clue," Renee offered.

"Me neither," Lia said.

"And who is the lovely young lady you brought with you, Renee?" Terry asked.

"That's Dakini," Renee answered.

"Ah, Dakini, the feminine embodiment of enlightenment, also known as the sky dancer. A popular Hindu figure."

"Only you would know that," Anna groused to Terry.

"You know your comparative religion. I'm impressed," Renee said.

"So," Lia said, turning to Renee, "you see Anna sitting on the top of the table. This is standard practice here, since it's the best way to avoid getting
body slammed."

"Does that happen?"

"Often enough," Anna said without lifting her eyes from her paper.

Lia climbed up beside Anna, and Renee climbed up on Lia's other side.

"When in Rome," Renee said cheerfully. "How long have you been coming here, Anna?"

"Years. Since CarGo was knee high to a greyhound."

"That's knee high to a greyhound bus," Lia amended.

"Aren't you funny," Renee said.

"I discovered this lovely spot three years ago," Terry said.

Renee leaned forward so she could see past Lia. "So, has Lia told you about our project?"

"No, she said she was sworn to secrecy," Anna said.

"Oh," Renee laughed, "there's an aspect that is . . . um . . . personal. That I didn't want Lia to discuss. But I didn't mean to execute a gag order. Lia,
you should show the latest drawings to Anna." She turned towards Anna, "They are simply brilliant. I've decided to adopt her and make her famous."

"And what project is this?" Terry asked.

"Lia's creating a solar marker for my property. Girl," she turned back to Lia, "you've been hiding your light under a bushel basket too long."

"Um . . . ah . . . geezelpete, Renee. I don't know that my stuff is what anyone would call 'high art.'"

"Nonsense. Look at the impressionists. Pretty pictures marketed under a snazzy concept. All we have to do is find you the proper label and plenty of
curators will eat it up. A number of them are secretly relieved when they can find an excuse to hang something pretty. . . . I know, we'll call it 'Ironic
Naturalism'. What do you think?"

"Uh, Renee, there's no irony in my work."

"Oh, but that's the best part! I love it. Don't you love it, Anna?" Renee turned back to Lia. "Tell you what, when my sculpture is finished, I'm going to
send pictures to some people I know. There's this curator for a lovely little museum in upstate New York. Seems a bit out of the way, but they're well
endowed and totally connected. They need something for their grounds, and this is going to make them green with envy. Don't you think, Terry?"

"I'm sure it will," Terry said.

"Renee, are you planning to ship me off to New York?"

"Only temporarily, dear. Cincinnati's a much more pleasant place to live, but it's a backwater for artists. You'll just have to commute. Of course, we
could bypass New York and go straight for the Japanese. They do love a nice flower painting. They've paid millions for Van Gogh canvases! Imagine!"

"Renee," Lia protested, "we haven't talked about any of this."

"Poor Lia," Renee commiserated, "I'm overwhelming you. I just got inspired. I'm getting ahead of myself. Don't worry about it, it's not happening tomorrow.
But anyone with half an eye can tell you'll wind up going places. Seriously, Anna, how can she not?"

"Renee," Lia pleaded, "lets just get your sculpture done first."

"Certainly." Renee patted Lia's hand. "When the time is right, we'll talk about it again. For now, just put it out of your head."

Dakini pranced up, and rearing, braced her forepaws on the bench. She dropped a dirty tennis ball in Renee's lap and woofed softly, with a winning
expression.

"Well," Renee said to the dog, "since you asked so politely." She turned to Lia. "Would you like to come toss some balls with me?"

"Sure." Lia and Renee walked their furred ones to the back of the park where there were fewer trees. They picked up several tennis balls along the way.

Anna watched as they started launching balls for the pack.

Jim sat down next to Anna. "Who's that with Lia?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "That's Renee. She's decided to adopt Lia. Next thing you know, she's going to buy Lia a rhinestone studded collar and start walking
her on a leash."

"Anna! That's a terrible thing to say," Jim said.

"She's only known Lia for a few months and already she has grand plans to make her famous. The woman is half Jack Russell Terrier. I thought I was going to
have an aneurism. She's decided Lia's going to storm the Japanese art market."

Jim pondered this. "It's nice for Lia to have someone like that in her corner."

"I know," Anna sighed, "but that woman is tiring. Wait till you meet her. Terry, how about eight letters for 'irksome'?"

"Hmm," Terry said. Try 'annoying.'"

Peter was still in bed after Lia got home from the park. She stood, leaning against the doorjamb and indulged in aesthetics. The artist in her appreciated
his unconscious pose, arms and legs haphazardly consuming as much of the queen-sized bed as possible. Her eyes followed the splay of hair against his
forehead, echoed by the lashes against his cheek. The unburdened countenance contrasted by rumpled bedclothes. The woman in her enjoyed the arrow of crisp
curls marching under the sheets, and the pectorals peeking beneath them.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and gently stroked his cheek. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Hello."

"Hello, yourself," she said. She tried not to be obvious as she watched him stretch.

"You could climb back in here, if you wanted to." He traced a finger on her arm.

"Uh huh. And make you late for work? I don't think so. I don't want to get on Brent's bad side."

"Will you at least sing me to breakfast?"

"You heard that? I thought you were asleep."

"Lucky dogs, getting serenaded while they eat."

Lia shrugged. "Beats yelling at them to come get it. They hear the song, and they know what to do."

"If you sing to me while you fix my breakfast, I promise I'll know what to do."

"Sure, as long as you don't mind getting dry cereal on the floor."

"Such a hard, hard woman. What is the hard, hard woman up to today that's so important it's keeping her out of bed?"

"I'll be working on Renee's drawings. Later I'm going over to Jim's to check out Anna's receipts."

He leaned over and kissed the inside of her knee. "You won't sing to me." He kissed her again, a little higher on her leg. "You won't come back to bed."
One more kiss, an inch north. "What am I going to do with you?"

Lia fixed a stern expression on her face when she rang Jim's bell so she wouldn't have to explain why she was feeling so cheerful. Still, he gave her odd
looks. He did not , thankfully, comment.

It took her less than an hour to pull up the receipts she needed for Monday, May 16. There were four of them, all debit card receipts. The first, for
Michael's, was time stamped at 10:47 a.m. Anna had bought some dried flowers. The second was time-stamped at 11:33 a.m. for used paperbacks at Half Price
Books. The third was a Kroger receipt for $121.43, stamped 12:17 p.m. This was slightly outside the parameters Peter had set. She figured it still worked
because it would have taken a long time to pick up that many groceries. The last was a gas receipt. She'd bought fifty dollars worth of gas, a bottle of
water and a small bag of chips. The time on this receipt was 12:39 p.m.

"Look at this, Jim. Anna's off the hook. There's no way Peter can say she caused Terry's fall."

I'm very disgusted. I invested a lot in this experiment, and it is not working. Tending to this pitiful pair is a time-consuming burden. After all this
effort, the only emotion they arouse in me is revulsion. It is nothing like I hoped. The thought of killing them does not excite anything like blood lust.
Instead of anticipating their deaths with manic glory, I find that I just want to get it over with.

Gina did show some fight on the second day. I won't repeat the foul language she used to describe me. She sat on her mattress, calling me crude names. The
woman is nothing if not vulgar. I reached down to shock her. She got her hands on the shaft of the cattle prod and yanked it away from me.

I was careless, I admit. I will say it was somewhat humorous to watch her waving the cattle prod around while she was chained to the wall. Roger still had
the ball-gag in his mouth. His eyes were bugging out, but there was nothing he could do.

To remedy this situation, I stood well out of her reach with a broomstick. I wore rubber gloves and rubber soled shoes to avoid getting shocked. She
attempted to sword-fight, as if we were playing light sabers. It took a few tries, but I placed the tip of the broomstick in the hollow of her throat and
shoved. She dropped the cattle prod immediately. As a bonus, she had difficulty speaking after that.

They have been very submissive since then. I administer random punishments to remind them to behave. I thought I might enjoy causing pain, but I was
mistaken. They mean nothing to me. Their pain means nothing to me. I suspect their deaths will mean little beyond exterminating vermin.

They say that every failed experiment increases your knowledge. In this case, I fear I have discovered that the only thing which will evoke the necessary
emotions will be personal involvement. Apparently, the emotions must be pre-existing. I cannot induce them by artificial means. I cannot use substitutes. I
must target someone close to me.

Lia sat between Anna and Jim on her favorite picnic table. She sipped delicately at her hazelnut flavored coffee while she watched the canine social hour
at the park. Honey and Kita were playing keep away and tug of war with a stick. Chewy was refereeing. CarGo lay atop the picnic table, a king surveying his
realm. Jackson was busy digging a hole in the mulch.

"How is Renee's project coming?" Anna asked. "You've been very quiet about it."

"It's coming. I had a hard time developing a concept that really worked, but I think I'm happy now. The trick is going to be making it work"

"What all is involved?"

"It's turning out to be quite an engineering feat to pour vertical slabs of concrete the size we want, and then shape the top. Jim's helping with the
structural planning, and Renee's husband is hooking us up with a contractor he knows, someone with a cement truck.

"Will Jose be helping you again?"

"He says he wouldn't miss it. He's going to help me build the forms for casting the concrete. They have that curved wall in the lobby of the Contemporary
Arts Center. I thought I would do some research on how that was done, it might help."

Anna tsked. "That building is like a parking garage. I don't know who had the idiotic idea that it would be a good place to show art."

"And yet it's one of the most important examples of third millennium architecture."

"Not to me."

"Me, neither." Lia drained her cup. "Excuse me while I go toss this."

Anna looked at Jim, "I suppose you've been eating eggs Benedict, too."

"Not me," Lia heard Jim telling Anna. "I'm just a structural consultant."

On her way back from the trash can, Lia spotted Honey and Kita running straight for her. They were looking at each other and not paying attention to
anything else. Lia stepped sideways to avoid a collision. Right into the hole Jackson was digging. She sat down, hard.

"Ow!" She surveyed the mulch particles embedded in her palms, then dusted her hands off on her jeans. "Dammit!"

"Jackson! No dig!" Terry yelled.

"A little late," Anna commented. "Let me give you a hand up."