Blame It on the Dog Read online

  “What makes you say that? You go on, while I have a look-see. I’ll try not to hurt you.”

  “I’ve seen a few traumatic lacerations similar to this. After a while you just kind of know.”

  “Oh, yeah? Where did you see them?” He had removed the gauze and said to Jane, “Pull that light over here, Jane. Thanks. Go on, Gabe.”

  “Afghanistan, mainly. It’s not easy hiking across unfamiliar ridges and mountains with sixty pounds of gear on your back, especially when you’re watching for somebody who wants to put a bullet in your head. A few of the fellas slipped and fell and got cut up.”

  “Hmm.” He held out his hand and Jane passed him a clean 4x4. “Medic?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it looks like you were right. It’s pretty messy but I think I can put you back together again.”

  “Great. You’ve got a nice touch.”

  “That’s what my wife tells me.” He wiggled his eyebrows and rotated his eyes. “This shouldn’t take long, but I like to do stuff like this under a general. It looks simple but I like to be prepared for surprises. Do you have any problems with anesthesia?”

  “Haven’t so far but I only had my tonsils out, and that was when I was six.”

  “Do you have any questions for me?”

  Gabe squinted at him and said, “Are you a real doctor?”

  Jimenez nodded. “Got a license and everything. Got a diploma, too, but they spelled ‘doctor’ with a ‘k’ so I had my 12 year-old daughter make me a new one. It’s impressive. Jenny can spell.” He stood up and dropped his gloves on the tray. “Greg Henry’ll be doing your anesthesia when he gets through in the OR. Greg’s a good man. He’ll make sure you don’t feel anything – and that you wake up. He’ll come in and give you your ‘margarita’. You’ll be hearing Jimmy Buffet in no time.” He turned and left whistling Margaritaville.

  Gabe lay back on the stretcher and closed his eyes again. In no time he was dreaming about falling rocks and barking dogs. When he opened them he looked at the clock on the wall and was surprised to see that almost three hours had passed. He punched the red “call” button. In a moment Sam stepped around the curtain.

  “Did you need something, Gabe?”

  “What’s taking so long, Sam? It’s been hours.”

  “Bar fight. A little cutting and a gunshot wound. A couple of serious injuries. We had to put them at the front of the line. It shouldn’t be much longer before they get to you.”

  Sam was wrong. Dr. Henry didn’t walk through the curtain until a few minutes after midnight, trailed by a fresh looking nurse he didn’t know. In her right hand was a capped syringe full of clear liquid. Dr. Henry’s surgical mask was hanging around his neck and his brown hair was covered by a multi-colored surgical cap, wisps of brown escaping at his temples and along the back of his neck. There were dark circles beneath his eyes.

  “Mr. Chance? I’m Dr. Henry. I’ll be handling your anesthesia. Sorry you’ve been waiting so long but it’s been quite a night. Claudia’s going to give you some medicine to make you go to sleep and then we’ll get started. Do you have any questions for me?”

  Gabe shook his head. “No. I’ll just be glad to get this over with.”

  Which is exactly what happened, so far as he was aware. He woke up in a regular room with only vague memories of the recovery room, memories that were fading fast, along with his conversation with Dr. Henry before he went in. He reached down and felt the bandage on his right thigh. He was surprised there was so little discomfort. He attributed that to the lingering effects of the anesthesia. Jane was standing beside his bed.

  “Welcome back, Gabe. How are you feeling?” Jane’s grin was both genuine and welcome.

  “Great. Well, no, that’s not right. The farther I get from that margarita, the more my body hurts. Not the surgical site, just the rest of me. Like everywhere. I’ve gotta stop trying to catch falling rocks.”

  “I recommend it.” Her grin gave way to a frown. “What really happened?”

  “Really? About what I told Jimenez. One minute I’m standing with one foot in the water, trying to figure out how to turn around without getting any wetter, and the next, the side of the cliff is falling on me.”

  She said, “You told Dr. Henry you had been investigating the death of a friend?”

  “Friend of a friend. An older woman who drowned in the little lake. What didn’t make sense is she was afraid of the water. I don’t know how she drowned. I think the last thing she would be doing is walking along the water’s edge, all alone.” With sudden surprise, he said, “What are you doing here? What time is it?”

  “After 3. AM. I told them to call me when you came out.”

  “Do you work 24-hour shifts? That’s got to be a killer.”

  She yawned. “Not normally. I’m pulling a double. One of the girls has a sick child. Gabe, you’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

  “You’re telling me. If it hadn’t been for the dog I would have. He was barking like a banshee and when I turned to tell him to shut up, I saw the mountain coming loose. I almost didn’t make it. And there for a while, I didn’t think I…” Gabe stopped mid-sentence with panic on his face. “Where’s the dog?”

  “I don’t know, Gabe. You didn’t have a dog with you when your friends dropped you off. But you couldn’t have him in the hospital, anyway, unless he’s a hospital dog. Is he?”

  “I don’t know.” His face was anxious.

  “Maybe they dropped him off at your place. We’ll find out when I take you home.”

  He wrinkled his brow, confused.

  “I’m going to take you home since you don’t have a car here. I’ll be off in a few hours, we’ll get you discharged and we’ll check on him then.”

  “Darn, I thought you meant you were taking me to your place. Darn.” Gabe said.

  She laughed. “I don’t think so. I’m going to take you home to YOUR place. Then I’ll go to MY place to get a few hours sleep. THEN I’ll take you to get your car. But now, you need to rest and recover and I need to get back to work. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to take care of.”

  Gabe awoke to knocking at his door and the sound of someone speaking his name.

  “Good morning, Gabe. Time to rise and shine.” Dr. Jimenez looked fresh and rested, as if he had not been operating until just a few hours ago. “How’s the leg?”

  “Feels good. The rest of me feels like it got stomped by a herd of water buffalo, but the leg is good.”

  “That ought to last for another 24 hours or so. Greg injected you with a long-lasting local so you won’t have so much site pain, post operatively. It shouldn’t hurt much but when the anesthetic wears off you might have some discomfort. There was muscle involvement like you thought and that can hurt like a mother as you’re healing. Regardless, once it wears off you’ll be sore for a few days. Same for your back and your bottom. And the left leg. There’s a lot of bruising back there, too. You got beat up good and proper. The wound wasn’t as bad as it could have been – no nerve damage or major vessels – but I put 12 sutures in the muscle, another 27 in the skin and fascia. It was a V-shaped tear. Pretty nasty. I took all the trash out – and there was a lot in there. We pumped you full of no-bug juice.” He handed him a prescription. “These are insurance, and insurance is a good idea for this kind of injury. Take it easy for a few days; you don’t need the discomfort and I don’t want to have to go back in. There’s also a script for some pain medication which might come in handy the next couple of days. Questions?”

  “Yeah. Will I ever play the piano again?” Gabe screwed his face up with exaggerated concern.

  “Probably not. I suggest the kazoo. You’ve obviously got a lot of wind. I’m done with you. As soon as they finish your paperwork you’re outta here.”

  “Can I drive?”

  “Give it a day. Better if you didn’t drive until I see you again, but you’ll do it anyway. Call me if you need me. And I want to see you in a week. Make an appointment.”
He handed Gabe his business card. “Cell’s on the back.”

  “Thanks, doc.”

  “Jimmy.”

  “Jimmy.”

  “Gotta go.”

  Fifteen minutes later a male aide rolled in a wheelchair and flipped up the foot rests. “Grab your gear and move your rear, Mr. Chance. You’re going home.”

  “I don’t need a wheelchair.”

  “Hospital rules. No wheelchair, no leave, and we need the room.” A mouthful of uneven teeth split the man’s face. Melvin was on his nametag.

  “Well, let me get dressed, first, Melvin. Where are my clothes?”

  “We threw those out,“ Jane said. She came in without knocking.

  “What about the shoes?” His face was hopeful.

  She shook her head slowly. “Too much blood.”

  “What do you expect me to wear?”

  Smiling, she said, “You’re wearing it. You can bring the gown back next week. Your personal belongings are in here.” She pointed to a bag hanging on the chair handle.

  “I’m going downstairs to punch out then I’ll pick you up out front.”

  “But…”

  “Melvin will take good care of you. Don’t give him a hard time about the chair. It’s hospital policy. I have to go now. See you downstairs”

  He watched her walk out the door. “Give me a hand, will you, Melvin.” He sat down with a sigh of resignation.

  It’s going to be an airy ride home.

  CHAPTER 18

  “IS THIS IT?” Jane slowed the Camry in front of Gabe’s house.

  “Yep. 214 Water Street. Pull to the back; it’s more private. I don’t want to accidentally flash the neighbors.”

  “How thoughtful.” Jane smiled. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

  “Oh no, you don’t. I’m not that kind of guy.”

  “Not on purpose,” she said. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “What does that mean? Did you take advantage of me while I was out?”

  Her face was the picture of round-eyed innocence. “It wasn’t my fault if you pulled your gown up to your chin. But it’s ok. I’m a professional.”

  “Yeah, well, you walk in front, this time and I’ll try to keep this thing from getting caught in the breeze.”

  At the door, Jane politely stood to the side and turned her back to him. “How is this, Mr. Chance?”

  “Hold that pose, nurse.”

  Inside, Gabe looked at the food bowl. It was empty. So was the water.

  “The dog’s been here. That’s a relief.”

  “You really love that dog, don’t you?”

  He squirmed in place. “Um, not really. He was Mother’s. Now he’s mine, by default.”

  “Not your choice, huh. Well, you could always give him away, right?”

  “It’s not that simple. I’m stuck with him for a couple of years.”

  “Really? That doesn’t make any sense.” She shook her head back and forth.

  “My mother was a sadist: no dog, no estate. It’s enough of an estate that I’ll keep the dog.”

  “So, you’re stuck with him for a couple of years. What then? Are you going to shoot him? Didn’t he just save your life? You owe him, Gabe.”

  More squirming. He looked around the room, then at the floor. “There is that,” he admitted. “And I would never shoot the stu… mu… dog. Or take him to the pound. I’ll think of something appropriate.”

  “I hope so; he sounds like a really sweet animal. I’ll bet he’s something special.”

  “Can we not talk about the dog? Okay? Why does everybody always want to talk about the dog? He’s just a dog.” He turned on his heel and started walking without a clear idea of where he was going. Then he felt cool air on his backside. Exasperated, he turned around, reached behind him and closed the gap, turned and headed back down the hall. “I’m getting some clothes on.”

  “You do that. I’m going home to get some shut-eye. I’ll be back around one. Good for you?”

  He stopped and turned around. “Thanks, Jane. I really appreciate it. See you, then.”

  When Jane arrived shortly after one o’clock, Gabe had changed into another new shirt and a new pair of pants. He had thrown his old sneakers away when he got the new pair, so he was wearing the black dress shoes he had worn to the funeral with a new pair of white sox.

  If I had the Pink Lady I could’ve gotten a new pair of Nike’s, but these ought to work out okay. Be stylin’ at the scene of the crime. Hoo hah.

  “Come here,” she said from the front doorway.

  He was standing in front of her. “What?”

  She reached for his pant leg and pulled up. There was a tearing sound.

  “What are you doing? Hey! These are brand new, ya’ know.”

  She held up a two-foot long strip of plastic. ‘32x32’ was printed every four or five inches. “I know,” she grinned.

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “There’s a tag hanging off your collar, too.”

  He tucked his chin and looked out of the corner of his eye. “Where?”

  “Turn around and I’ll get it.” He heard a small snap and felt a tug at his neck.

  “There,” she said. “Now we’re ready to go.”

  “You still want to take me out to Mountainview?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. You just have to point me in the right direction. I have no idea where we’re going. Do you have any water?”

  “In the fridge. Get me one, too.”

  “Of course, silly.” She returned a moment later with two bottles of water. “Ready?” she said.

  “Onward, through the fog. Charge!”

  She followed him to the car. He was heading for the driver’s side.

  “I’m driving. It’s my car.”

  “Oh, yeah. Force of habit.”

  She backed out of the driveway and Gabe guided her to the correct road.

  “What kind of car is this?” he asked.

  “Toyota Camry. It’s a hybrid; look.” She pressed a button on the dash and a view screen came to life. On it was an animated diagram of a car’s undercarriage. Arrow’s were flashing and moving, colors changing.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s showing when the car is making electricity and charging the battery and when it’s using gasoline, or the battery, or both.”

  “That’s kinda neat.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Are you a greenie, Jane?”

  “No. But I do what I can for the environment. And the mileage is great, see?” She punched another button and the screen changed. She pointed at the bottom of the screen. “That’s our miles per gallon in real time.”

  “38? Impressive.”

  “It’s better without the A/C.” She turned off the air conditioner and the numbers jumped to 41 mpg. “See? It’s not as good going uphill, but it’s great going down.”

  They continued making small talk until they were interrupted by a hairy, white flash jumping in Gabe’s lap from the back seat. He yelled in agony and Jane hit the brake. The car swerved before she corrected and regained control.

  “Get off me you flea-bitten piece of…”

  “Is that your dog?” she said in amazement. “Where did he come from?”

  The dog obediently lay down in Gabe’s lap, rested his head on his knee, and closed both eyes.

  “Where did he come from?” she repeated. “How did he get in the car?”

  “Who knows? He does it all the time. My car. Sophie’s car. Now your car.

  “I’ve never seen a dog do that.” Jane was bewildered.

  “I wish I hadn’t. It’s unnatural: he’s possessed or something. I don’t know how he does it.”

  “Did you say his name is ‘Tigger’? Well, Tigger doesn’t look like he’s possessed. He looks like a little angel. And he loves you, Gabe. He’s missed you. Look how content he is.”

  “He’s drooling on my new pants! And shedding. He sheds buckets of hair. Demon hair with barbs. Once they get i
n your clothes they never come out. Never!”

  “I think he’s adorable. He’s so sweet. Don’t wake him up. He probably didn’t get a wink of sleep last night worrying about you.”

  “He wasn’t worrying about me. He was at home, scarfing down every piece of kibble he could wrap his lips around. That reminds me, I’m starving!”

  “Is there anything ahead where we can stop?”

  “Nothing before Mountainview. Maybe the General can scare up a cookie or two. Maybe even a steak.”

  “General?”

  “Sean Perez. He’s a two-star general. Retired,” he added. “He’s become a friend. I’ve never had a general for a friend.” Gabe told her about the General and why he had been at Mountainview yesterday.

  “So they think this woman didn’t drown by accident? Is that why you think your accident might not have been so accidental?”

  “It probably was an accident, but I’m sometimes taken to dramatic flights of imagination.”

  “I don’t know, Gabe. It seems too coincidental that the cliff would fall at the precise moment that you were investigating that woman’s death.”

  “That’s the only thing it could be. The only person that knew I was down there was Sean.”

  “The General?”

  “Yeah, he’s the one who showed me where Nellie Schmidt drowned. That’s the woman’s name.”

  “Doesn’t that sound suspicious to you?”

  “No. Besides, he was on a conference call with the Pentagon. That’s why he couldn’t show me personally.”

  “Oh. Oh, well. I’ve always had a hard time believing in coincidences. They seem so unlikely.”

  “I know what you mean. But Sean is clean; trust me. He was the one who tried hardest to persuade me to look into all this.”

  “Oh.”

  CHAPTER 19

  THE GENERAL STOOD on the veranda in the crisp, morning air, drinking in the warm sunshine. Sean Perez was glad to be alive. Breakfast had been particularly enjoyable today, johnnycakes with real maple syrup (a concession by the chef to his station and longevity), ham and eggs, and four cups of hot, black coffee. It was one of his favorites, a breakfast his grandmother made during the summers when he and his sister stayed with her and his grandfather. Those were sweet times, times of peace, free from the turmoil of his home life, the constant warfare between his mother and father.