That Doggy in the Window

Jaye Watson

Description

Emaline Banister fancies herself a sleuth because she helped her favorite cop, Harry Jordan, solve a bizarre murder case. But Harry's out of town on special assignment, one so dangerous he can't tell her where, or when he'll be back. When two of her friends lose their beloved dogs to what seems to be an epidemic of canine heart attacks, she starts wondering if more than coincidence is at work. After all, chasing a serial killer, even if the victims are dogs, is better than sitting home and worrying about a man she might or might not be in love with. Isn't it?

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Uncial Press
• Date de parution: 15 octobre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 3
• EAN13: 9781601741011
• Langue: English

Extrait

That Doggy in the Window
 
A Mystery Novel Byte
By
Jaye Watson
 
 
Uncial Press       Aloha, Oregon 2010
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are productsof the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Anyresemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirelycoincidental.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-101-1 ISBN 10: 1-60174-101-4
That Doggy in the Window Copyright © 2010 by Judith B.Glad
Cover design Copyright © 2010 by Judith B. Glad
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work inwhole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known orhereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.
Published by Uncial Press, an imprint of GCT, Inc.
Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com
That Doggy in the Window
February. Her least favorite month.
Emaline buttoned her coat and pulled up her hood against the chill, wondering why sheinsisted on being environmentally responsible and riding the bus, instead of driving her nicewarm car to and from work.
The stop was three blocks from her house, and she hated every damp, splashing step ofthose blocks.
Streetlights were shimmering gleams in the rain, yellow sodium vapor lamps pretendingto be sunlight, but failing to be anything but garish imitations. When she turned the corner ontoher street, she automatically looked up toward Mrs. Irvington's front window. For all the yearsshe had lived with her grandfather, Mrs. I and her babies had been faithful about welcoming herhome.
Sometimes that had been the only good thing about coming home.
Mrs. I's drapes were open as usual, but no one was there. Not even Scooter andArchibald.
The dogs, an ugly-as-sin Pomeranian-Daschund cross and a mostly-Yorkie, were alwaysperched on the window sill, watching passers-by with great interest. Scooter liked to bark at hisfriends, of which she was one, but Archibald was more dignified, and simply waggled his wholefuzzy butt when one of his special friends walked by.
Must be suppertime.
She let herself into the house thinking, for perhaps the hundredth time, that she ought tosell the big old barn, and buy herself a nice modern condo, preferably somewhere closer towork.
The message light on the answering machine was blinking. She pushed it, and did herbest to deny she was hoping for a message from Harry. He'd said, back in December, that oncethe anniversary of his wife's death was behind him, he would be ready to look toward thefuture.
Emaline had hoped that future would include her, not necessarily on a permanent basis,but for a while, at least. She was lonely, and Harry was good company.
The fact that it had been far too long since a man had done more than shake her handwas beside the point. A man besides Harry, that was. She was ready to see what came after thefirst kiss.
Was he?
"Message 1: We are calling to remind you to attend the neighborhood meeting nextMonday. The city council is proposing to build a professional hockey rink in Selden Park. Such amove would have severe negative effects on the quality of life in the neighborhood. Please bethere to show support for the committee to prevent devastation of Selden Park."
"Message 2: Em, I've been assigned a pisser of a case. Don't know when I'll be able toget away. Just wanted you to know I haven't forgotten you."
"Message 3: Hi, Em. I'm not going to be able to do the Girls' Night Out this week. Youguys have fun, and think of me sitting home with a sore throat and three sniffly kids."
Of the three messages, she couldn't decide whether the second or the third was the worstnews.
"Oh, come on, you know you're disappointed about Martha, but you'll still have a goodtime with Amy and Jerri." She pushed the erase button. Did Harry really have a bad case, or washe letting her down easy? And if he was, why should she care? They were as much associates insolving crime as two mature adults who happened to have had a few dates.
She had her head halfway through the neck of her purple cowl-necked sweater when thephone rang. Uninterested in the usual dinnertime survey, she let the machine pick up. The callersounded near tears, so she didn't recognize Mrs. Irvington's voice right away.
"I think Scooter is dead But Archibald is still breathing. Oh, Emaline, I don't know whatto do. The lady at 911 said that a sick dog didn't qualify as an emergency. But Scooter... AndArchibald..." The worlds dissolved into an anguished keen.
Emaline understood. Scooter and Archibald were Mrs. Irvington's children, as much asthe sons and daughters in distant cities were.
She remembered to grab her keys before she dashed out the front door.
Scooter was indeed dead. The ugly little dog was sprawled in a puddle of urine on thekitchen floor. "Where's Archibald?"
"I've got him wrapped in a towel in the parlor." Mrs. I said." He was so cold."
"I'll take you to Safe Pets. Maybe they can figure out what happened." The emergencyanimal hospital wasn't all that far away. She'd never been there, but she'd seen their sign in thestrip mall near the freeway.
"I'll get ready." Mrs. I caught Emaline in a fragrant embrace. "Oh, Em, I don't knowwhat I would have done if you hadn't been at home. Who I would have called--"
"I'll be just a few minutes," Quickly she extricated herself from the embrace and headedfor home. It took a matter of seconds to make sure the back door was locked and return the bagof lettuce to the refrigerator. Her car, as usual, resisted starting. She really should drive it oftenerthan once a week. Still, five minutes later she was parked in front of Mrs. Irvington's house. Thedoor opened as she got out. Mrs. I had her arms full of a blanket-wrapped bundle. Emaline madesure the front door was locked behind her, and escorted her to the car. "Shall I lay him on theback seat."
"No, I... I'll hold him. I don't want..."
"I know. Don't worry. We're doing all that's possible."
The combination of scattered lights in the misty rain and the glare from wet streets madeEmaline drive more slowly than she ordinarily would have. They were about halfway to the vet'swhen Mrs. I said, "I hated leaving Scooter just lying there. It seemed...irreverent."
A memory of how her grandfather had looked, lying dead on the kitchen floor, came toEmaline. "Yes, I'm sure it does. I should have covered him."
"Oh, I did that. I laid his favorite blanket over him. But still, the floor is so cold."
Emaline reached across and squeezed Mrs. I's hand. "We're almost there."
* * * *
The veterinarians could tell them nothing beyond the fact that Archibald's heart waspounding like a triphammer and his breathing was abnormally rapid. "We'll have to do tests."The young woman frowned. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he was having a heart attack."
"A heart attack? A dog?" Mrs. Irvington's tone made her disbelief clear. "Dogs don'thave heart attacks."
"They do, but most people aren't aware of how common they are." She deftly inserted atiny needle into an all-but invisible vein in the dog's shaved foreleg. "How old is... You said hisname is Archibald?"
"He's four. And he's healthy. I had him in for his annual checkup just last month. There'snothing wrong with his heart."
"Mrs. Irvington, it's really too soon to know anything for sure. Why don't you waitoutside and we'll let you know as soon as we can what we find out."
For the next two hours and more Emaline and Mrs. I sat, paced, stood, and sat somemore in the brightly lit waiting room. It was a busy place, with a constant stream of patientsbrought in by worried-to-frantic owners. The young man at the reception desk was sympatheticeach time Mrs. I asked him if there was any news about Archibald, but he could tell themnothing beyond "Dr. Finestein will let you know as soon as she can."
Sometime around nine, Emaline decided food was in order. She assured Mrs. I that she'dbe back as soon as possible and headed across the street to the nearest fast food place. Fifteenminutes later she returned with a bag containing roast beef sandwiches, some deliciously fragrantFrench fries and a couple of soft drinks. Not what she'd have preferred for dinner, butsustenance, nonetheless.
Mrs. I protested that she couldn't eat a bite, but she managed to do away with one of thesandwiches and more than her share of the fries.
The flow of patients had tapered off. Emaline was wondering if she should prepare Mrs.I for the worst when Dr Feinstein came through he doors from the treatment area.
"Mrs. Irvington?"
Mrs. I leapt to her feet. "Yes? Archibald?" Her voice trembled.
"Will be fine. We're got him stabilized. I'd like to keep him until tomorrow evening, justto be sure. But I'm optimistic."
"What make him sick?"
"We still believe it was his heart. Dogs do have heart attacks, you know. You'll want totake him to his regular vet for tests, but for the time being we believe he'll be all right."
"Thank goodness."' She wiped the tears from her soft, sagging cheeks. "But what aboutScooter?"
"Scooter"
"My other baby. He's dead. But before he died, he was acting the same way Archibaldwas. Short of breath and his little heart was just pounding so badly his whole body wasshaking."
Dr. Feinstein frowned, then cast a quick glance at Emaline. "When did thishappen?"
"This evening. I gather they took sick about the same time. But Scooter is...was an olddog. Thirteen, I think. I believe he went fairly quickly. Isn't that right, Mrs. I?"
"Yes, they both start acting funny just after they'd had their dinner. I feed them everynight at six, you know. It's good for doggies to have a regular schedule."
"What did they eat?" Emaline said, before the vet could speak.
"The same as always. Their kibbles, but first they had their tiny treat. I buy them thelittle soft nibbles--doggie whiskey I call it--so they can share my cockta