Tiger's Eye (15 page)

“Money will buy a pretty good dog, but it won’t buy the wag of his tail.”

—Josh Billings

This time, I called Leo directly and explained the situation. Cinnamon decided to wait with me for the chief to arrive, which was about ten minutes later.

“You know you really don’t need to keep including me in these little adventures,” she said.

“Very funny.” I chewed my nail. “God, I hope he’s all right.”

“Oh sure,” Cin said. “He’s probably just at the casino playing the one-armed bandit.”

I shot her a stern look.

“Too soon?”

Leo rolled up next to my car and I jogged around the side to his open window. “I still haven’t seen—”

A tiny fur-covered rocket launched at my chest.

“Agh!”

Mini Thor was dancing up and down my shirt, shredding it in between growls and glares.

“Get this cockroach off me!”

Thor came charging out of the bushes, but Cin caught him by the collar in time and made him heel. He did so only out of respect, because I could see he was on point and ready to rumble and even Cinnamon wasn’t strong enough to restrain my Great Dane in that agitated state. But after a few seconds of watching me wrestle with Satan’s little helper, Thor cocked his head as if trying to comprehend the scene.

Or maybe he was choosing sides, I couldn’t be sure.

Thankfully Leo was able to subdue my attacker, but not before my top took a beating.

I screamed at the Chihuahua, “Why do you hate me?”

Scrappy turned his back to me and cut wind.

“Calm down,” Leo said. “Look.” He put the dog in the car, fired up the air-conditioner, and rolled up the windows. He shut the door and faced me. “There. Won’t happen again.”

“Jesus, Chief, what the hell is that thing? Thor craps bigger than that,” Cin said.

Leo said, “Forget about the dog. Walk me through what you saw.”

After I composed myself, I did.

Leo checked out the trailer while Cinnamon and I waited. Thor was sniffing around the squad car, still trying to unlock the mystery of the four-legged fiend.

Liberty was flying around us, cawing incessantly when Leo returned. He was wearing a pair of gloves and in his right hand was a business card. My business card.

“I found this under his prosthesis.”

“I gave that to him yesterday.”

He flipped the card over, flashed it to me. “This mean anything to you?”

There were a slew of numbers and dashes that I couldn’t comprehend at first.

But then I saw it.

The date my father died plus the make of his car and what appeared to be a vehicle identification number.

Perhaps Scoog had sifted through his records and scribbled the code on the back of my card to remember who I was and what brought me here.

Or maybe he was about to call to tell me about something he had discovered.

I revealed none of this to Leo. “Nope.”

“Okay, I’ll get a team together and we’ll scour the property. I have to say, though”—he glanced back toward the trailer—“it doesn’t look good.”

That’s what I was afraid of.

“You guys can go,” Leo said.

“Will you let me know if you find him?”

Leo sighed. “Sure, but it could take hours.”

Cinnamon scanned the property. “He pretty much kept to himself all alone out here, huh? Just him and the bird.”

Leo nodded.

Wait a second.

Just him and the bird.

I said, “Leo, I have an idea.”

Cinnamon left Thor with me and went home. I made a call to Derek, saying I would be a little late and then made the same call to Parker.

With all of her flapping and squawking, it became apparent that Liberty had been trying to tell us something all along, so it didn’t take much coaxing for her to guide Leo to a thicket of overgrown raspberry and honeysuckle bushes. There, next to a pale yellow bucket dusted with a smattering of berries, lay Mr. Scoog.

There was no blood that I could see, which gave me some relief.

Leo bent toward him. Touched his wrist.

“He’s dead,” Leo said. He glanced around the area. “Looks like he was picking berries, maybe the heat got to him, he had a heart attack.” Leo studied the scene.

“Why would he leave his arm behind to pick berries?”

The look on his face told me he was thinking the same thing. It also told me he didn’t want me anywhere near another homicide.

“Maybe he was hot. Maybe he planned to shower after. The point is, right now, there appears to be no foul play.”

He shoved my card inside his pocket and stepped away to make a phone call.

I took the opportunity to gain as much information as possible. I quickly drew a circle of protection, bathing in white light, as I crouched to touch Mr. Scoog’s shoulder.

I closed my eyes. “Talk to me.”

Abruptly he seized my hand, gripping me with the kind of fear that forces you to stifle a scream. My eyes shot open to find a black gaping hole where his glass eye had once been.

In his scratchy, cheerful voice he said, “Dead men tell no tales.”

He laughed and collapsed back into the earth.

I yelped and took a tumble, shaking uncontrollably.

Thor came charging from behind a freezer chest to see what the hoopla was all about.

Leo spun around. He must have thought the dog had knocked me over because he said, “You all right?”

“I’m fine.” I stood, dusted myself off. “Gotta get to work.” I backed away, still shaking.

Leo had an oddly curious look on his face as he said, “Okay, then.”

What. The. Hell. Was. That?

The dead had never spoken to me before. My messages came in dreams, gestures, images, but never anything verbal.

And what an eerie message it was.

Dead men tell no tales.

Or do they?

I jotted the words in my notebook as I watched Liberty fly back to her perch, looking a little less anxious than before, but sad nevertheless.

I wrote a note for Leo to call me later, adding that perhaps I could help place the bird and tiptoed to his car. The demon dog was sleeping soundly, so I clipped it beneath the windshield wiper.

A few minutes later, I tapped on Derek’s door and he told me to come in.

He was trying to stabilize himself on one leg as he reached for his wallet.

I hurried over and snatched if off the table. He thanked me as I handed it to him.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

He frowned. “This boot is a bitch to take a shower in and I can’t even wear pants.” He scanned the place, looking for something. “I can’t find my camera shades. Did you take them?” He was patting himself down as if they might miraculously appear in one of the pockets on his cargo shorts.

“They broke, remember?”

He was still looking around the room. “Yeah, but I picked them up. They came with a warranty.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Really? A warranty? Does that cover sniper attacks?”

He pointed at me. “About that. You need to fill me in on that noise. That was beyond off the hook. That was off the hook, on the ground, ripped and spillin’ all over the floor.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Derek said, “It’s a boxing metaphor, yo.”

“I can’t wait until you find a new girlfriend.”

He just smiled.

“Okay, here’s the deal.”

I explained the whole story, from Saturday morning at the lake until today. The only tidbits I left out were the two dead guys animating in my presence.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Derek said when I told him that I failed to mention the gun-toting madman to Leo.

“It’s only for today,” I said quickly. “A couple of hours, Derek, until I can find those files the caller was talking about.”

He hobbled over to the kitchenette. “You mean the dead guy in the lake.”

“Right. At least I think that was who called me.”

Derek grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the counter and put them on. “I won’t lie for you.”

I shook my head. “I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you to lay low.”

He considered this. “A couple hours. You swear?”

“Witch’s honor.” I grinned.

He took his shades off and pointed them at me. “That shit ain’t funny.”

“Fine. I swear.”

He thought a moment and added, “I get the headlines.”

“Deal.”

I had him strapped into the car before I said, “Do you remember that bird?”

Chapter 20

“Man is an animal that makes bargains: no other animal does this—no dog exchanges bones with another.”

—Adam Smith

Derek wouldn’t even discuss fostering Liberty. I dropped the subject as we pulled into the parking lot of the paper. We were already running late as we rushed directly into the conference room.

Well, I rushed, he hobbled.

Monday morning staff meetings were about as much fun as a radio without a dial. Today, however, was an exception because not only did we need to cover the Founder’s Day Festival and our pathetic slaughter on the baseball field, but:

1. a homicide
   
2. the (suspicious) death of a town icon
   
3. the recovery of lost and formerly deceased canines
   

The town was buzzing and the phones were ringing due to the mysterious insurgence of canines. Gladys, our research assistant, had to turn on the answering machine just so she could keep up with recording the meeting minutes.

We went around the table discussing who would write which pieces for tomorrow’s edition.

When I didn’t volunteer for the headline stories, Parker’s BS detector clicked into high gear.

“Wait a minute, Stacy.” He shifted in his chair gingerly because he had a raging sunburn. “Are you telling me”—he paused and sipped some water—“that you found the body in the lake but you’re passing the story to Derek?”

His red face was contorted in pain just from moving his lips. He looked like a lobster protesting its own execution.

“Well, Derek slept through most of the softball game. Someone has to cover it.”

“Hey!” Derek said.

“I was going to take that myself,” Parker said.

“You sure about that?” I asked. “You look like you need to take an aloe vera bath. Didn’t you wear sunscreen on the ball field.

Parker winced as he picked up a pen. “I’m fine. It’ll tan in a couple of days.”

“Or it’ll peel like a banana,” I said. “Even your eyebrows look burned.”

Iris Merriweather, the gossip columnist, said, “You should always wear sunscreen. Look at my face.” She stuck her chin out and gave us a side-to-side profile view. “Sixty-five years old and not a darn wrinkle. I wear SPF seventy every day.”

Gladys leaned in to inspect. I wondered what kind of fun house mirror Iris had at her place.

“Even I wear sunscreen,” Derek said.

We all looked at him.

“You ever see skin cancer? It’s ugly.”

Parker was losing patience. “May we please get back to the assignments?”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “Gladys, read what we have so far.”

She clicked her dentures together and said in her thick Polish accent, “Yes. I have here…” She flipped back a few pages and perched her blue reader glasses on her nose. “Body Discovered in Eagle Lake—Derek. Founder’s Day Happenings—Iris. Softball Game—Mr. Parker. I have no one for doggies.”

“I’ll take that one,” I said. “One of the dogs is at the inn. A gorgeous collie. No one has claimed her yet.”

Parker looked at me. “Really? What about Thor?”

At the sound of his name, Thor stood up and rested his bowling-ball-sized head on the table. Iris gave him a pat on his black muzzle.

“That’s why she’s not at my place, but the Big Man has been told to keep his distance.” I narrowed my eyes at Thor, who sneezed all over the meeting minutes.

Parker did a scan of the table. “So we’re good? What about Mr. Scoog?”

“How did you know about that?” I asked.

Iris said, “I told him. Ran into Amy, the new dispatcher, at the coffee shop. Cute little thing.” Iris also owned Muddy Waters, the town’s source for caffeine and sugary pastries.

Derek said, “Oh yeah? How cute?”

“Okay, team.” Parker pulled his chair back. “Meeting adjourned.”

His body was stiff as he did a John Wayne walk out of the room.

We all filtered out and I asked Derek to take Thor into his office so I could catch up with Parker.

A few minutes later I was seated across from my boss in a comfy brown leather chair, wondering where to begin this conversation.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he asked.

I told him about the phone call on Friday, about the likely connection between that call and the man pulled from the water. He told me Leo had asked him about a phone call.

I asked, “Do you know what he meant about the tapes?”

Parker thought for a moment, scratched his chin, and instantly regretted it. “Ow.” He said, “That was a long time ago. I don’t remember what your father was working on.”

“Did he seem nervous at all? Did he mention anyone threatening him?”

Parker looked off in the distance for a moment. “No. That I would remember.”

I stared down at the floor. There had to be something here. Some connection.

Parker leaned across his desk. “Stacy, that phone call was probably from some crackpot. I mean, how do you know for certain it came from the man in the lake? Heck, we get calls like that all the time.”