Ruff Way to Go (31 page)

There was a
pause. “You’re certain?”

“Yes. Susan
says she didn’t see the murder, that she just called her dog and he responded,
but I’m not sure how that’s possible.”

“That’s
interesting,” he said in a tone that indicated he
found my
news anything but interesting. “We’ll follow through on it,” he murmured. “Anything
else?”

“Haven’t I
made myself clear? If Boris was in Edith’s backyard during the murder, it was
possible that Susan or her parents were there, too. Or, at the least, that one
of them witnessed the murder and isn’t telling.”

“Possible,
sure. But it’s hardly what anyone would consider evidence.”

“Don’t you
see? Susan had to have been lying to me when she told me how she got Boris
back. That is, unless someone managed to chase Boris out of Edith’s yard unseen
by Susan, which seems unlikely, considering the yards are adjacent to each
other. Susan said she called him a couple of times, then he finally came
running up to her. But getting a dog to go back through a tunnel he’s dug is
almost impossible, if you’re anywhere in the vicinity of the tunnel.”

“Why? The
tunnels are one-way only?”

“No,” I
snapped in exasperation. “Because, provided he’s been scolded for
digging—which is the case with Boris—the dog thinks: Owner plus
tunneling equals punishment. He thinks he’s going to get punished for being
seen going back through the tunnel.”

Sergeant
Millay said nothing, so I continued, “The dog will avoid the tunnel, act like
he doesn’t know it’s there. He thinks as long as you don’t see him go through
the tunnel, he won’t get punished. Instead, the dog will typically bark along
the fence till you open a gate. In which case, Susan or a substitute
dog-master, such as her parents, would have witnessed what had happened in
Edith’s yard.”

“But the dog
already did the digging, and that’s what he’s getting punished for.”

“Right, but
dogs don’t have the lengthy cause-and-effect perception that we do. They can
only associate something that’s occurred within the last few seconds as having
caused the resulting punishment.”

The sergeant
let out a puff of air into the receiver. “Okay. I see what you’re saying. Like
I said. We’ll look into it.” He hung up. I felt frustrated at having to accept
Sergeant Millay’s patronizing attitude. Bad enough that I knew so little about
anything in this world. Not being taken seriously on the one subject in which I
really was knowledgeable was the proverbial “adding insult to injury.” I read
the paper for a while to get my mind off the conversation.

A half hour
later, Mom rushed in carrying a turquoise-colored plastic bag with a clothing
store’s style of built-in handle. She smiled at me and was so focused on me that
she didn’t even greet the dogs. Today her hair was back in a ponytail, and she
wore black jeans and a casual-looking black-and-pink striped blouse. At a quick
glance, she looked to be in her forties, though she was pushing sixty. “Oh,
great, Allida, you’re still home.”

“Yes. I’ve
given myself an actual day off.”

She set the
plastic bag on the table and started to remove its contents. “Guess where I
was?”

“The
Budweiser plant on I-25?”

“No, but
only because I didn’t think of that first. I went to Edith’s clothing store.”
She pulled out a light blue long-sleeved blouse in some thin man-made material.
“Edith helped me pick out something especially for you. She says it’s by some
fancy French clothing designer who’s all the rage right now. Edith and I both
thought it would look perfect on you.”

I was a
little disconcerted at the notion of Edith’s picking something out for me. I
half expected it to look and smell like a skunk hide. Was there such a thing as
a gag-gift blouse? I was pleasantly surprised when I examined it. The blouse
did look lovely, at least when neatly folded and being worn only by white
tissue paper. “Oh, great. Thanks, Mom. It’s very nice.”

“Aren’t you
going to try it on?”

“Of course.”
She kept her eyes on me, and I realized she expected more from me. “You mean
you want me to try it on now?”

“If it’s not
too much trouble. If it doesn’t work out, I want to take it right back to
Edith. Despite all of her ravings about the incredible bargains of her sale
prices, it wasn’t cheap, believe me.”

“Oh, I’m
sure of that. I’ve been in that store myself, and nothing in there is
inexpensive.”

“True, but
Edith assures me that’s the price one pays for these fancy designer labels.”

I glanced at
the label, which bore a name I didn’t recognize. A kinked-up piece of red
thread dangled from one corner. “It’s a pretty lousy label,” I said. “The
thread is unraveling.”

I dutifully
tried the blouse on. It felt really tight on my shoulders and upper arms, but
looked nice enough. Just not as nice as it had on the tissue paper. I came back
into the kitchen to show her. “What do you think?”

“Pretty,”
Mom said. “I like it.”

“Doesn’t it
look as if it’s a size too small? It feels a bit tight under the armpits. I’m
afraid that it’ll be uncomfortable to move around in when I’m working.” I
stretched my arms out in front of me as a test and immediately heard a rip as
one of the shoulder seams gave way.

Mom stared
in surprise, and I joked, “There. That’s much better. Downright roomy now.”

“Good Lord!
You pay all that money for a blouse, you certainly expect the seams to hold for
more than five minutes.” Mom got to her feet, grabbed me by the shoulders, and
turned me around to look at the tear.

“I guess
even these fancy clothiers can get defective merchandise,” I said. “I’ll take
it back to Edith and exchange it for a size larger.”
Eventually,
I
silently added. Once enough time had passed that Edith might be able to be
civil to me.

“You shouldn’t
have to do that. It’s my gift to you, after all. Maybe it would be best,
though, if you came in with me so you can try everything on right there.”

“Okay.”

Mom took my “okay”
to mean “this minute” and snatched up her car keys. Not wishing to argue, I
changed back into my unprestigious but unripped blouse and climbed into the passenger
seat of Mom’s pickup. We were soon at Edith’s store and found her rifling
through her merchandise in something of a Tasmanian devil mode, her back to us.
She was the most casually dressed I’d seen her, wearing black stretch pants and
an oversized sweater.

To my utter
surprise, she looked relieved when she turned and recognized us. I would sooner
have expected her to show me the door at once.

“Marilyn.
Allida, How did that blouse work out for you?”

I studied
her for a moment and decided that she must be one of those gung ho types who
would never allow personal feelings to interfere with a potential sale. “Not
too well. In fact, a seam ripped out when I was simply trying it on.”

“Did it
really?’’ she replied, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“Yes. For a
supposed original from this fancy designer, it sure wasn’t well made. I mean,
even the label itself is deteriorating.’’

Edith
snatched the blouse away from me as if it had been about to combust in my
hands. “This is totally out of keeping with my high-quality merchandise. They
must have made a shipping mistake and I inadvertently sold your mother a
factory-second at full price.’’

“Then you
won’t have any trouble getting reimbursed by your suppliers?’’ Mom asked.

“Not at all.
I’ll be right back with a perfect blouse.”

I glanced at
the table beside me and immediately spotted the blouses from which Mom had
chosen. “Can’t I just pick up another from the display here and try it on?”

“No, I...want
to make absolutely certain this doesn’t happen again. I’m going to pull one
from a newer shipment that I haven’t had time to restock.”

“Okay.
Thanks.”

I idly
flipped through the other blouses on display, while Mom examined some sweaters.
The label on one particular blouse caught my eye, so much so that I unfolded
it. There was a black thread sticking out from underneath the corner of the
label that didn’t match the tan thread used on either the label itself or to
sew the label onto the garment. I gave it a tug, just as Edith returned,
peering over my shoulder with a pained expression. I grinned in embarrassment
and returned the blouse to its table.

“Here,”
Edith said, thrusting the blouse into my hands, all of her salesmanship forgotten.
“Try this one on. It’s a slightly different shade, but I think it will work for
you.”

I looked
over and caught my mother picking at something on the window ledge. “What’re
you doing?”

“There’s a
glass shard here, Edith. I wouldn’t want anyone to cut themselves.”

“Oh, thank
you,” Edith said with a sigh. “We had an... accident here a few weeks ago and a
plate glass window broke. I’m still picking up little pieces, after all of this
time.”

“Susan told
me about that.”

“She did?”

I nodded.

“I’m
surprised. She made it clear to me that it was a family secret.” She gave me a
conspiratorial nod as she looked at my mother and said under her breath, “Alzheimer’s.
There but for good fortune go any one of us.”

Mom’s
hearing was excellent and she said, “I can’t imagine anything worse. Honestly,
Allida, if I get something like that in my old age, you have my permission to
shoot me.”

“I’ll
remember you said that. I’m going to go try on the new blouse.”

There was no
comparison between the two blouses. This one felt wonderful against my skin,
fit perfectly, and was somehow much more flattering than the other. I came out
of the dressing room to show my mom, suffering through a flashback on my
sometimes painful visits to clothing stores with my mom when I was a teen.

“Wonderful,”
Mom said, turning to Edith. “I love it. If I weren’t already getting this for
my daughter, I’d buy it for myself.”

“I thought
you’d be impressed,” Edith said, still looking peeved for some reason, but making
a great effort to be gracious. “This blouse is actually a newer design and my
cost was nearly three times what the other was, even though it’s the same
manufacturer.”

“Oh, dear,”
Mom said. “Do you need more money from me?”

Edith forced
a smile and held up her palms. “No, no. Consider it my compensation to you for
your trouble. Just be sure to recommend my store to your friends, and we’ll
consider it even.”

“Thanks,
Edith,” I said.

“Yes, thank
you,” Mom chimed in.

“Do you want
to wear that home?” Edith asked. “I can just snip off the price tag.”

Mom was
beaming at me. I’m not the easiest person in the world to shop for, and for her
sake, I said, “Sure.”

Edith gave
me a plastic smile and came at me with those scissors with such a venom that I
nearly jumped back, but she did simply snip the price tag off.

We left.
There was something bothering me. We rode in silence for a while, then Mom
said, “You’re so quiet all of a sudden. You do like the blouse, don’t you?”

“Yes. Very
much. Thank you. I’m just thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

“Did you
notice how all of the domes in the store had those anti-theft devices, except
for my new blouse?”

Mom
shrugged. “Edith said something about not having this one in her inventory yet.
She probably didn’t have the chance to get it ready for sale.”

I looked at
the label of my old blouse that I held on my lap. Suddenly I knew.

Mom pulled
into the garage. She had been talking to me during our drive back from Edith’s
store, something about a flying student of hers she was having trouble with,
but I was too lost in thought to listen.

Although
things were starting to add up, there were still some big holes in my theory.
If only I could fill them, I could talk to Sergeant Millay and, if my theory
proved correct, give him the additional evidence that might help him make an
arrest. Heaven knows I would rest a lot easier once that happened.

We let the
dogs inside, upon their insistence. Pavlov, Doppler, Sage, and Suds and pups
had been outside enjoying the glorious weather. We were soon knee-deep in dogs,
and I was beginning to think for the first time that it would be something of a
relief when we got to put Suds and puppies up for adoption.

Mom said
over the sound of yipping puppies, who had very recently discovered their vocal
cords, that she was going to “return some phone calls” from her bedroom. That
was unfortunate, as I’d intended to make some calls myself, toward resolving
some of the inconsistencies that I’d uncovered. She was probably finding me to
be lousy company, so I merely said, “Okay, Mom,” and left it at that.

The puppies
were clowning around, their energy and their desire to wrestle with one another
boundless. They were staging their puppy fights, important in establishing
their ranking but even more important in establishing needed aggressiveness. Too
subordinate a dog becomes too dependent on his owners.