Blame It on the Dog Read online

  “Um, the leg thing?” she reminded him.

  “Leg thing?”

  “Gabe…” she prodded.

  He winked at her. “If Chip is the guy, Sean, his leg should hurt as much as mine. Maybe more. Maybe a lot more.”

  Sean leaned forward, as serious as Gabe had seen him. “Son, you can’t be planning anything vengeful, can you? I mean, you’re right about the slow grind of the justice system, and punishments so often don’t seem to fit the crimes, but still. Seeking vengeance may feel good now but…” He let the words hang in the air.

  “Yeah, it would. But first I want to talk to him. Where is he, Sean?”

  “Gabe, you can’t just ta…”

  “Where is he, Sean?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe at the maintenance shop. He has a car he’s been working on. Come to think of it, though, I believe Edsel said something about him going to town. Just as well. Why don’t you go on home? You can convalesce for a few days, then come back and talk with Chip. He’s there most days about 4:30, just before dinner. He might be back already, but I doubt it.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. Since he’s gone it might make more sense to head on back, like you said. But then again, if he’s gone, there won’t be any harm in having a look around, will there? And, like you said, he might even be back already.” He winked at the General, this time.

  The older man stared back. Finally, wagging his face, he sighed and said, with a smile, “You are a stubborn man, Mr. Chance. The shop is at the end of the maintenance road. There’s a sign set back off the pavement. It’s not paved so it’s hard to miss. He could be there now, I’m not sure. It would be better if you waited a while, cooled off a bit.” He leaned back in his chair and nodded his head. “But you’re not going to, are you?”

  “I’m cool enough, General. Cool as a cucumber. Cold even.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Are you coming, Jane?”

  She followed him out the Clubhouse door, with only one anxious glance back at General Sean Perez.

  CHAPTER 23

  “HE MAKES A lot of sense, Gabe. Let’s go back to Brandt. In a few days you’ll be feeling stronger and we’ll come back. Or we’ll call the sheriff and tell him what you think happened.”

  “Go home, Jane. This isn’t your fight.”

  It was as if he had touched a match to a very short fuse. Her eyes flared, “Don’t tell me what to do, Gabe Chance! I’ll go home when I’m good and ready and not one nanosecond before. Got it?” She stepped in front of him and stood with her hands on her hips. The autumn sun at her back set her hair ablaze. It became a second sun, a sea of molten copper surrounded by a flaming orange corona. Solar flares of individual hairs jumped and danced in the afternoon breeze. He closed his eyes and caught his breath.

  “I get it: I can’t stop you.” He nodded. “But let’s drive. That’s a long way to walk with a bum leg.” He started to take a step forward but stopped. Now the dog was blocking his way and the sun’s effect on his hair was not nearly so spectacular.

  He growled, “Outta the way, dogface.” To Jane he said, “Can you believe people actually pay money for these walking hairballs?”

  They never found the sign the General said marked the road to the maintenance shed but, as he had said, it was hard to miss. A scar of dirty white caliche gravel gashed through the lush landscape of Mountainview proper and connected to the turnaround at the end of Serenity Lane.

  “Park here,” he said, pointing at a space outside one of the homes. “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  “I’ll drive us. You need to protect that leg.”

  “The leg’s fine. I don’t want to spook the Chipster.”

  Against her protest he led them on foot up the road that carved a tunnel through the trees and shrubs and vines. Without warning he thrust his arm out and stopped Jane in her tracks.

  “Wha…”

  “Rattlesnake.” He pointed to a serpent winding its way across the dusty road. “My mistake, it’s a copperhead. It’ll kill you just as dead, though.”

  The snake was an inch and a half in diameter and four feet long. It looked shorter as it slithered along.

  When it had passed, Jane spoke, “That’s the first copperhead I’ve ever seen, except in the zoo. Are they really that dangerous?”

  “More dangerous than lightening, less than cars. They don’t attack people except when they’re threatened. Trouble is they are easily threatened. Snakes are unpredictable. I would rather avoid them, altogether.”

  “Is that why he’s running away from us?”

  “He’s not running away from us; he probably doesn’t even know we’re here. We’re no threat to him. Even so, give him a wide berth. If they do bite, they inject a poison that rots your skin and muscles. Nasty stuff.”

  “It’s a good thing they don’t go looking to hurt people,” Jane said.

  “It’s a good thing they’re not like people.”

  She shivered. “I hate snakes.”

  “There’s the workshop.” He nodded toward a clearing where the road ended in an ill-defined parking lot outside a small sheet metal building. The two sliding doors were open and they could see an automobile in the gloom inside. At this distance it was a toss-up whether the car or the building was uglier. The closer they got, the more obvious it was that the car was winning the contest.

  It was a muscle car from the last century, though what brand or make Gabe couldn’t say. Its identity was lost beneath a dull kaleidoscope of bondo and paint. The principal color was primer grey though the owner was obviously unbiased as evidenced by large patches of faded rust-colored primer. The plethora of untreated rust, dents and other wounds made it equally obvious that Chip was behind the power curve in his restoration plan.

  The body, rest its automotive soul, was littered with greasy palm, elbow and belly prints. It was obvious that Chip didn’t aspire to membership in the clean hands club and all Gabe could think of was Gojo, gallons and gallons of Gojo, the ubiquitous waterless hand cleaning goo he had never seen a shop without.

  But it only cleans your hands if you use it, Chip.

  The same careful concern Chip had shown the muscle car, he showered on his general surroundings. The floor was littered with fast food wrappers of every shape and description. Beer, however, appeared to be the man’s main source of nutrition. And while many brands were represented, Mickey’s Malt Liquor, a high alcohol content contender was the clear winner. Gabe nudged an empty Mickey’s can with his toe and said, “Our boy likes a lot of buzz for his buck.”

  “How could anybody live like this?” Jane was unconsciously dusting her arms and chest with her hands.

  Gabe cupped a hand to his mouth and called, “Chip! Hey, Chip! You got company.” There was no answer so he tried again. “Hey! Chip! Where are you, you meat-headed puke? Show your worthless carcass.”

  “Gabe, stop it! You’ll make him mad!”

  “You think?”

  Exasperated she said, “So that’s how you know he’s not here? He didn’t come storming out wanting to fight you?”

  “Works for me.”

  “Men! No wonder the world’s so screwed up. You guys can’t talk about anything. Everything’s a fight.”

  “Not everything. I just get a little edgy when someone tries to kill me. Call me sensitive. Come on; let’s see if we can find that digging bar.”

  “What for? I thought we were just looking for Chris so you two could roll around in the dirt like a couple of school boys.”

  Gabe stood in front of her. She stopped talking when she saw his face.

  “Jane, I have no intention whatsoever of treating Chip Drake like a school boy. I’m going to treat him like a man and hold him accountable as I would any man. If I’m wrong, I’ll tell him I’m sorry. As far as why we’re looking for the bar, it’s evidence. When we find it we’ll give it to the cops so they can make a case.”

  She stared at him, her mouth open in mid-response. “Good idea,” she said.

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sp; Gabe grunted and began the search. “You take the perimeter and I’ll look around the car. Yell if you find it – but don’t touch it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I watch cop shows, too.”

  He started by looking through the car’s windows being careful not to touch them. Then he kicked trash out of the way and scanned the ground before dropping to pushup position, taking care to protect his injured leg. He peered beneath the car and said, “I can’t see anything for all the beer cans and paper.”

  She had been searching on the other side of the car. “Do you think he sleeps in here?”

  “Who knows where he…”

  Muffled barking interrupted him. It was coming from inside the car.

  “Where’s the dog?” he said struggling to get to his feet.

  “The last time I saw him he was outside the clubhouse. I forgot all about him.”

  “Me too. Is that coming from inside the car?”

  “It sounds like it.” There was awe in her voice. “Is he in there?”

  He grabbed the driver’s door handle and the barking intensified. It stopped when he yanked the door open. The dog was sitting in the passenger seat, reclining against the seat back. The cloying smell of decaying food pushed him back. He glared at the dog. “Get out of there.”

  The dog stared at him and barked.

  “Come on, dog. Out.” Gabe felt the color rise in his face.

  The dog stood to all fours and backed against the passenger door. He barked again.

  She peered through the windshield at the dog. “What’s wrong?”

  “The usual. The little twerp won’t do what I tell him to.”

  “You’ve scared him. Look how he’s trying to get away from you.”

  “What? I didn’t scare him.”

  “Wait here and I’ll open this door so he can get out. He just wants to get away from you.”

  He muttered under his breath about women and dogs.

  “I heard that,” she said across the roof of the car. She opened the door and the dog looked at her. “Come on, Tigger. It’s alright. I won’t hurt you, boy.”

  He licked her outstretched hand and barked again.

  “He’s really scared, Gabe. Come on, Tigger. Good boy.” She spoke soothing words but he still refused to come out. She leaned inside the car to pick him up and stopped.

  “Gabe. Look at this,“ she said, her voice as muffled as the dog’s barks.

  “What?”

  “IV solution.” She stood up holding a small bag of liquid. “Normal saline. What’s he doing with this?”

  He stared at the bag in her hand, then at her. “You got me. Let me see it.”

  She handed it across the roof. “There are also some bags down there that look like instrument bags.” She ducked back inside the car and came up with a hand full of small, thin rectangular bags. “Surgical instruments. They look sterile.”

  “Give me one.” He reached across the car and inspected it under the strong fluorescent lights.

  “What’s Chip doing with surgical gear?” she said.

  He nodded. “Alyssa. Gotcha, Chip.” His upper lip curled into a sneer.

  “Who? Did you say ‘Alyssa’?” She eyed him with suspicion.

  He met her eyes across the car roof. “Alyssa Carter, the vet. This is her stuff.” He held up the IV bag and the instrument pouch.

  “Oh, yeah? How do you know that?”

  “The IV bag says ‘For Veterinary Use Only’. Her office was broken into and the crooks took a lot of stuff including instruments and IV fluid. Drugs, too. Did you see any drugs down there?”

  “No, this is it. But instruments like this cost a lot of money.”

  “I’ll bet he’s going to sell them on Ebay,” he said. “Unless Chip is planning to do a little animal surgery on the side.”

  “That’s disgusting. Why did you say Ebay?”

  “Why not? People sell everything there.”

  “What do you want me to do with it?”

  “Let’s take it with us. It doesn’t prove he tried to kill me but it proves he’s a burglar. That oughtta be worth a year or ten in the slammer.” He grinned.

  “Tigger knew, didn’t you, boy?“ she said.

  In response the dog hopped out of the car and disappeared into the clutter at the back of the shed.

  “He’s a smart dog, Gabe.”

  He gave a grudging nod. “Yeah, but we weren’t looking for surgical instruments,” he said. “Hey, dog. Get back to work and find that bar. Chop chop.” He clapped his hands together. He grinned at her across the car. “Chop chop, Jane.”

  “Don’t rush me,” she said. “I’ve almost covered my area, how about you.”

  “Almost. Keep your eyes peeled for a box we can carry the evidence in.”

  “There’s one over there.” She pointed behind him. “You get to pick it up, I’m not touching it. You’re lucky I even touched the medical stuff.” She shivered.

  “A little grunge won’t kill you. It washes off.”

  Her smile was genuine. “Then you won’t mind using your hands, will you?”

  “And you call yourself a blood and guts ER nurse.”

  “I never said that. Besides, we use gloves in the ER; do you see any gloves in here?”

  “I wish,” he said, inspecting the box. “This box isn’t as bad as I thought,” he said leaning inside the car. He filled the box with supplies and stood up straight. “Let’s finish up and hit the road.” He set the box on the roof and continued looking.

  After another fifteen minutes of futile searching for the elusive digging bar, Gabe shook his head and said, “He must have hidden it somewhere else.” He lifted the box of medical supplies and limped to the door. “Are you ready, nurse?”

  “I’m ready to find some place to wash my hands. And take a shower. And change my clothes. I feel like,” she hunched her shoulders and shivered, “things – creepy, icky things – are crawling all over my body.” She shivered again.

  He nodded. “I know what you mean. We’ll stop at the Clubhouse on our way out. No showers but at least we can wash some of the scunge off.”

  Other than Gabe’s limp becoming more pronounced, the walk back to the end of Serenity Place was uneventful. Before they reached the Camry they were stopped by Andrew and Emma coming out their front door.

  “Mr. Chance!” Andrew advanced toward them, his right hand leading the charge. He stopped when he realized that Gabe’s hands were full. “It is so wonderful to see you up and running around! And you too, Ms – wait, you’re the nurse from the hospital aren’t you? Emma, look, it’s Mr. Chance and the nurse I told you about.”

  “He was swimming out of season! Andrew, he was and you can’t say he wasn’t. Young man, you could die from exposure. Aunt Edith died of exposure: she caught pneumonia and…”

  With a downward push of his spread hand Andrew cut his wife off before she could say another word. “It wasn’t Edith, it was Heloise, Emma and this is not the time or the place.” To Gabe and Jane he said, “We are – uh, Emma and I – are both so pleased to see you up and walking around. How are you feeling?”

  He nodded and said, “Much better.” He lowered the box to the grass. “Uh, Andrew? Jane and I need to wash our hands. Would you let us use your bathroom sink?”

  Emma’s eyes went wide, bulging from her face. “No! No, Andrew! Don’t let them! Typhoid! Choler…”

  Again, Andrew spread his hand without looking at his wife. Emma stopped mid-sentence and her face relaxed.

  “Of course you can. Emma, you go on down to the clubhouse and order me a gin martini. I’ll be up directly.”

  To Gabe’s surprise Mrs. Jefferson turned meekly and walked away. Alarmed he said, “Will she be safe?”

  “Emma will be fine, Mr. Chance. She may have already forgotten our conversation. But she won’t forget my martini.”

  “You are a man among men, Andrew.”

  “No.” He shook his head almost violently. “I am not. I made a vow
sixty-three years ago to love Emma in sickness and in health. That’s all I’m doing, Mr. Chance, just keeping my word. And with Emma, it’s one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. Now you two come on inside.“ He opened the door and ushered them in. “Use the kitchen sink. Paper towels’re on the counter.”

  That was all the invitation Jane needed.

  “That was a nasty-looking box you were carrying out there. Why are you toting that thing around?”

  Jane was drying her hands and Gabe said over the running water, “It’s things Chip stole from the veterinarian in town. We thought the sheriff would like to see it.”

  “I’m sure he would, but you don’t want to carry that around in your nice car. Leave it here and I’ll put it in the garage until you can get it to him.”

  “That’s a good idea, Gabe. I really don’t want it in my car,” said Jane.

  “Thanks, Andrew. I seem to be saying that a lot, lately.”

  Jane said, “That was a great thing you and your wife did for Gabe, Mr. Jefferson.”

  The old man shook his head and dismissed the compliment with a wave of his hand and a flush of embarrassment.

  “Well, not everyone would have done what you did. It was a serious injury and you did the right thing bringing him to the hospital so fast. He could have died.”

  “The Jefferson’s are good people, Jane.”

  They joined Andrew on the other side of the bar. “What’s going to happen to Harald’s house?” she asked.

  Happy to no longer be the focus of the conversation, Andrew said, “It’s already been sold. Edsel told me a couple from Buffalo took it, sight unseen.”

  Surprised, Gabe said, “Sight unseen? Did they know somebody had died there?”

  “Of course. Edsel said it didn’t make any difference to them. It never does. They’ve been waiting for someone to move or die, and, well…”

  “That’s cold.”

  “It does seem unusual,” said Jane.

  The old man nodded. “I know it seems strange to you, but you’re not at the end of your life like we are. Your sense of economy changes, know what I mean? Mountainview’s not your normal retirement place. These people don’t care that there’s not a golf course, or tennis courts. People come to Mountainview for the fresh air, the clean, spring water, and peace and quiet. The serenity. Those are valuable commodities that are in short supply.”