Strange Outfit: An Avery Barks Dog Mystery (Avery Barks Dog Mysteries Book 2) (4 page)

“Why in the world would someone want to take an old man’s dog?” I choked back tears.

“Avery, are you sure you want to stick around here?”  Don sounded concerned.

“Yea, at least until we figure out if Ben’s okay.  You know, that collar had some kind of jewels on it.”  I was glad that Chevy wore just a run of the mill collar.

I hugged Chevy and told him how proud I was of him.  Princess snuggled up with him on the couch and licked his ears.  My loyal boy had become the little girl’s knight in shining armor.

Don closed the cabinet, gave each dog a pat on the head and headed for the door. “I’m going to go pay a visit to the pawn shops and give them my phone number.  This moron might try to sell the collar.”

He hesitated, then turned and said, “Don’t tell anyone about the surveillance video, until I let you know otherwise.  Lock the door behind me and don’t answer it for anybody.”

As evening approached, I remembered that I had made previous plans with my good friend Jamie to go out for dinner and catch up but I didn’t want to leave Princess alone until everything was sorted out.  Besides, the dogs still seemed shook up from the days’ events, and truthfully, I was still a little shook up too. I called Jamie and told her I couldn’t meet her because I needed to dog-sit for a friend.  She decided to do the next best thing, and informed me she was on the way over to hang out with me at Ben’s place. 

I called Rocky to double-check if it was okay for Jamie to visit Ben’s home, and he said it would be fine.  As we spoke, I noticed how his rugged voice matched the work clothes he wore, and I already knew they fit his muscular frame just right too.  I suddenly caught my mind wandering and broke those thoughts.  

What’s wrong with me? 

Before too long, Jamie showed up with a pepperoni pizza and some cola.  It was good to see her smiling face and I gave her a big hug.  Jamie and I were opposites in a lot of ways, but we always wanted the best for each other and I valued her friendship. 

When Jamie heard the details of the last couple days, her smile turned to a frown. “Are you sure you want to stay out here Avery?  I mean, it sounds pretty creepy.”

I appreciated her concern. “Yea, I feel safe enough, especially with the dogs here.  It’s better for them to be in their own home.”

“Don’t answer the door for anyone!”

“I know, right.”

Jamie grabbed a slice of pizza and got right to the point, “Now who’s that good looking guy I saw you talking with at the town gathering yesterday?” 

Like I said, Jamie and I were different in a lot of ways.  Men had always been on the top of Jamie’s priority list. My priorities had changed in the last five years or so.

“That was Rocky; he’s one of my new bosses.” I heard my voice sound more excited than it should.

“If he were
my
boss, I would be working overtime!” Jamie had always appreciated a handsome man. “He is hunka!”

I laughed. 

Without warning, we heard a slow burst of air that proved to be coming from Bullfrog’s butt, as he relaxed on his pet bed in the corner of the room. The old dog turned his head to investigate the sound coming from his own rear end.  It took about eleven seconds for the plume of dog gas to reach the wooden kitchen table where Jamie and I sat.  It had to be the most nauseating smell in the history of the planet earth.

“Auuuuggghhhh!”   We pulled up the front of our t-shirts and covered our noses. “Bullfrog, you sure blow a toxic fog!” Jamie laughed so hard that tears came to her bright eyes.

Bullfrog just continued to look at his butt, like he was wondering what had just happened.

I opened all the windows in the living room to get some fresh air flowing.  Jamie grabbed a can of air freshener from the end table and sprayed a flowery fog of her own.  We both started coughing from the flower and fart combination.

I hurried to the kitchen window and pushed on the frame up to open it. There was no screen there, so I stuck my head out into the fresh air to make Jamie laugh.  She ran to the kitchen and squeezed her face through the same window, which made us both laugh even harder.

The hilarity abruptly stopped when we both noticed a small light moving slowly through the dark night up on the ridgeline.  Then it shut off.

I pulled my head back into the house. “Jamie, someone is up on that ridge.  That had to be a flashlight up there.” The muscles in my back tensed.

“Whose land is it?” Jamie asked a good question.

“I think it is Ben’s.” I wasn’t quite sure. “Should we go up there? “

“No way, Avery.” She was right. “Should I stay the night?”

“No, I’m fine.  It’s probably someone’s house up that way.”

We talked ourselves into the notion that we were overreacting, and over the next two hours, finished up both the pizza and our conversation.

As Jamie left for home, I realized the dogs hadn’t eaten a meal since this morning.  They snacked on some delicious dog cookies from our good friend Miss Millie, but it was time they got some solid nutrition. I searched the pantry closet and found their dog food bin and checked the rest of the cabinets for any medicine they might need to take.  In the corner cabinet, I found a bottle of hip supplements that I figured were for Bullfrog.

As I closed the closed the cabinet, I noticed an old newspaper article taped to the inside of the door.  I took it off to take a closer look.  It was a poem of some sort that was published in a California newspaper from about 20 years ago.

It read:

TREASURE

In the hills of the stills

I took my chest.

Buried it there, among the best.

The air grew cold and the bears grew fat,

The sound of the rain was pitter pat.

Look on the map of the USA

A 2 and a 6 will show you the way.

Fly like a cardinal to see the site,

If you find my treasure, you now own the rights.

- JOE

The hills of the stills….where did I see that before?

I fished in my back pocket and pulled out the small notebook I found in the tree stand earlier that morning.  Written in sloppy handwriting on the cover was ‘The Hills of the Stills.’  I had to assume this notebook belonged to Ivan, the deceased.

I opened the notebook and saw this same poem written in sloppy penmanship on the inside of the front cover.

Is Ben somehow connected to the dead man? 

I sat down on the couch and slowly looked around the living area.  It seemed like an average mobile home. Nothing fancy, but clean and kept up well.  I did notice that the couch was pulled out a several inches from the wall. Behind the couch were a shotgun and a couple small boxes. That was normal in these parts.  But what was lying next to it was not, a small metal detector.

I sat back and studied the poem.

“Hills of the stills.” Yep, we are in the mountains and smack dab in the middle of moonshine central.  But so are several other areas of the country.

“Cold air, bears and rain.” Check.  We’ve got that too, along with the entire east coast.

“Map of the USA.” That really narrows it down.

“A 2 and a 6 to show you the way.” Highway 26 runs close to here, but 2 and 6 could be an address, a sports jersey number or most anything.

“A cardinal” That’s the North Carolina state bird, but five other states have the same one.

“Find the treasure and own the rights.”  Why would a guy climb a tree and go bird watching writing about dreams of treasure?  Pretty strange stuff.

I put the poem down and cuddled up with Chevy and Princess.  Bullfrog was already fast asleep on his dog bed.  Ben’s couch was so soft and comfortable it started to make me sleepy. I began to drift off to sleep when it started to rain outside.  I loved everything about nature and the sound of rain on the rooftop was soothing.

“The sound of the rain was pitter pat.”  The phrase from the treasure poem floated through my mind.  “The sound of the rain was pitter pat,” kind of a half dream and half thought again. “The sound. Pitter pat.“

I jolted awake and listened to the sound of the rain hitting the rooftop.  Pitter patter.  Pitter patter. 

I hurried outside and listened to the rain from the front door steps.  The dogs watched me from the comfort of the couch. The rain sounded softly on the leaves.  It definitely was not a pitter patter like the sound of rain landing on a roof. 

Pitter Pat, Does that mean something?  Did he bury it next to a roofed building? 

I stopped myself. 

“Oh geez, now I’m even thinking about this treasure note! “ I laughed out loud to the dark sky.

My clothes were getting wet from standing out in the rain, so I turned and went back in. I laid down on the couch, and the three dogs and I fell into a deep sleep to the sounds of rain going pitter patter. 

=+=+=+

The next morning, I opened my eyes and saw three dogs staring at my face, from three inches away.  It might have been the smell of dog breath that actually woke me up. I rolled off the couch and started a big furry hugging party.  This was a great job already!  I didn’t even know how much I was getting paid, but this was something I would have done for free. 

I decided to do some quick research and called the California newspaper that published this strange poem.  I hoped they were still in business after all these years.

It took some time, but I found the number and dialed long distance.  The newspaper staff transferred me to several people, but finally I talked to the original author of the original article, Mr. Jay McNeily.  In his soft monotone voice, he explained that back when he was a young journalist with the paper, he received a letter about some buried treasure.  At the time, he was just young enough and gullible enough to go ahead to write a story and print it.  The idea of buried treasure caused some temporary excitement, but most folks considered it a hoax after nothing had been discovered for ten years or so.

“What do you think about this treasure poem? Is this for real?” I asked.

“I always thought it was real,” he answered.  “No one really knows for sure I guess.  One thing I do know, there are some folks who have spent years looking all over the country for the treasure.”

“How much is it worth?” I was intrigued.

“No one knows.”

“So they could have been running around looking for two dollars and ninety-nine cents?”

“Yeah maybe, or it could be two million dollars and ninety-nine cents,” he replied.

“Wow!  I guess it’s all in how you look at it.  Well, thanks so much for all your help, Mr. McNeily.” I hung up the phone.

Now that would be a motive for murder
.

The rain continued to come down and both my dog and I started to get a little stir crazy from being indoors.  Chevy was a high energy dog and needed his exercise, and it gave me a good reason to face a slight bit of fear, and investigate the light that Jamie and I saw through the woods the night before.  After I locked the door behind us, we set out to explore the ridgeline where the light had appeared.  I put on my rain jacket as we walked and slipped the straps of my daypack over my shoulder. I slipped my camping knife in my pocket, just in case.

I jogged across the back yard and up the path, avoiding the ever present holes along the way.  My plan was to get up to the ridge and take a quick look, then head back to the house.  I hoped Bullfrog would bark loud enough to alert me if a stranger came up to the door.

As Chevy ran joyfully though the raindrops, I realized that the infamous wet dog smell would combine with the remnants of Bullfrog’s farts when we got back to the house.  It made me glad that there was a nice breeze that would continue to air out Ben’s house. I used my compass to make sure I was headed in the general direction of the mysterious light from the previous night.

As we approached a small knoll near the top of the ridge, I saw four top quality small tents set up around a campfire ring made of rocks. There were men’s sized work boots sitting under the vestibule of each tent.  At first sight, it looked like just some guys out camping.  That was, until I saw several large shovels leaning up against a couple trees.  My stomach tightened.  I instinctively ducked down out of sight, and turned to get the heck out of there.

“Hey Bud!” It sounded like a younger man’s voice.

“Whose dog is that?” Came a gruff reply.

“Probably came from one of the farms around here.  He’s cool.  Here boy, want some beef jerky?”  The younger voice was enthusiastic.

Chevy had already befriended these digging dudes!  Even the crazies loved my dog.

I ducked out of there before anyone caught sight of me, and headed straight back down the hill.  The rain would keep the guys tucked in their tents, and I knew Chevy would follow when then free jerky offerings dried up.  Just to be sure, I gave a whistle as I reached the bottom and he came bounding down the hill with a huge dog smile on his face.