Blame It on the Dog Page 4

  “That’s awful, Gabe. I’ve seen a lot of dead animals, and some in advanced decay, but I’ve never seen a dead person before.”

  “I’ve seen too many dead people, but mine were always fresh. Not Harald.”

  If they had been outside instead of in a moving car Gabe thought she might have taken an involuntary step backwards. As it was, Alyssa pressed herself against the opposite door and stared, waiting for an explanation.

  “Afghanistan. I was a medic, remember?”

  “Oh, I see. A noncombatant. Lucky for you.”

  “You must be thinking ‘conscientious objector’. Medics aren’t CO’s. We’re always in the thick of it and you better carry a weapon. It’s stupid not to. ”

  “I am corrected,” she said coolly. “So you killed people?”

  “It was either them or me and I really preferred it be them.”

  She was shaking her head. “I’ve never known anyone who’s actually taken another human being’s life.”

  “Yep. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

  Her face got tight and pinched. “You’re so casual about it. So cold. That’s horrible. It’s just terrible. You should be ashamed, Gabe.”

  “What? You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not ashamed, I’m glad to be alive. Those goons were slaughtering my guys. As I said, it was either them or us. Just think, if I hadn’t killed them, you and I wouldn’t be on our way to Austin right now.”

  She snuffed through her nose. “Well, I guess you’re right – but I still don’t like it. It’s inhuman.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” He went on. “Back to Harald. Under the circumstances, we had to call the Sheriff. Sophie and I waited for him at the clubhouse, but without the dog. As usual, he wouldn’t come when I called him. He insisted on staying outside Harald’s door.”

  “Insisted?” She cocked a judgmental eyebrow that said, “Good owners have control of their animals”.

  “Yeah. He ran off whenever I tried to corral him, then came right back and laid in front of the door, watching it like it was a rat in a woodpile.”

  Alyssa said, “That’s interesting behavior, even for a Jack Russell.”

  “When the Sheriff came he said the dog wouldn’t let anybody near the place. He attacked the deputy and ripped his pants when he tried to look through the window. The deputy had to kick him to get him to stop.”

  “Tigger must have gone into protective mode for some reason. I can’t imagine him biting a human being, unless they were threatening someone Tigger included in his ‘pack’,” she said.

  “I’m glad he includes me in his pack. Those are the biggest teeth in the smallest mouth I’ve ever seen. I don’t want him chomping my way.”

  “I don’t believe you have anything to fear. Tigger is definitely your dog, now.”

  “No way. I can’t stand the little twerp.”

  “It’s not about you, mister. Tigger has adopted you. He will give his life for you, if necessary. These dogs take their responsibilities very seriously.”

  “That sucks.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Alyssa, I never wanted him. Right now we have a marriage of convenience – no, necessity. Necessity. He needs me, I need him. If I didn’t need him, he’d be gone tomorrow.”

  “There is a creep in this car, Gabe, but it’s not Tigger, it’s the ungrateful narcissist behind the wheel. The world doesn’t revolve around you. You have responsibilities and that dog is one of them.”

  “I know that. Why do you think I take such good care of him?”

  “You don’t take good care of him. You feed him. You give him water. You bring him to me when his dedication to you causes him injury. You don’t care about him, Gabe. You care about your mother’s money. You don’t give a damn about Tigger.”

  “That’s not fair. I wanted to kill that guy who shot him. And I felt the same way when Deputy Oscar kicked him.” Again, Alyssa appeared to be backing up, stepping back, gathering some objectivity and appraising him.

  “You’re right, it’s not fair. I was listening to your words and not looking at your behavior.”

  “What? What does that mean, Dr. Phil?”

  “It means people are not so much what they say as what they do. Your mouth spews anger, frustration, and disgust. You say you want to kill him but you don’t mean it. Your actions are much more positive than that. In spite of yourself, you’re falling in love with Tigger.”

  The car did a dangerous swerve until Gabe got it back under control.

  “C’mon, Alyssa. Did they teach you that nonsense in vet school? I’m a lot closer to falling in love with Bob – or Sophie for crying out loud than that stupid dog. I’ve never fallen ‘in love’ with an animal, not even Rosie, my hamster. Not even Rosie! Men – well, at least mentally healthy men – don’t fall in love with animals.”

  “Struck a chord, didn’t I?” she smirked.

  “Aaargh! I need a drink.”

  The smile that graced Alyssa’s face was colored with a blend of humor and triumph.

  Gabe took the next exit and stopped at a convenience store.

  “Do you want anything?” he said.

  “Sure. I’ll have what you’re having. In a brown paper bag, please.”

  A few moments later Gabe returned with two tiny paper bags. Each had a pop-top aluminum can peeking over the edges.

  She took hers with the giddy glee of a college sophomore at a sorority kegger.

  “I haven’t had an ice cold beer in forever!” she said.

  “Me, too. Oh, pshaw, I done fergot mah manners, ma’am. Let me pop that there top fer ya.”

  In character, she answered, “Why, thank you kind sir. I can hardly wait!”

  “I’ll do yours first, but you have to wait for me so we can share this moment together,” he said. A‘pop-shussh’ escaped from the first can. And then the second. Gabe held his can high in a toast, “To stolen afternoons.”

  “To stolen afternoons,” she seconded. That was followed by a healthy swig and a choking cough.

  “Too strong for you?” he asked, his expression blank and open.

  “That’s not beer!” she spewed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “No, it’s Dr. Pepper. You said you’d have what I’m having, so…”

  Alyssa exploded in laughter. “I hate Dr. Pepper!”

  “You should have seen your face, Dr. Carter. And look what you’ve done to the Pink Lady’s windshield.”

  “That’s the price you pay for sophomoric pranks.” Her laughter was genuine and Gabe was grateful for the easing tension in the car.

  He rolled the Pink Lady out of the parking lot and headed back onto the crowded highway.

  Alyssa studied the cars and trucks poking along on the now 6-lane highway. “Now I remember why I don’t like coming to the city,” said Alyssa.

  “You have been spending way too much time oiling cats’ hairballs and searching for bovine bowel obstructions. This is where life happens! Feel the thrum of the city’s pulse. Listen to the music of the gears, the sneers, and the … what else rhymes with gears? That might make sense, I mean?”

  She twisted her mouth and searched the sky. Finally she said, “The plip-plop of tears, as the smog sears the cilia from…!” She stopped, stuck.

  “From your ears,” he grinned.

  “We’re terrible poets,” she said with a laugh. It was a comfortable laugh followed by silence.

  Gabe felt her eye on him.

  “What?” he said, still watching the cars in front of them.

  “I was wondering why we’re going to Austin. What’s at the bank?”

  “You mean besides money? I’m really not sure. My dad left me a cryptic letter and a safe deposit box key. He wanted me to check it out as soon as I read the letter. I read the letter today, so…”

  “He didn’t tell you what you’d find?”

  “Nope. It’s just another Chance family mystery.”

  CHAPTER 7
>
  THERE WAS NOTHING special about the exterior of Texican State Bank. To Gabe’s eyes there was absolutely nothing remarkable about it. Inside was where the magic lived. The foyer was the beginning of a historical museum paying homage to the men and women who fought for and won Texas’ independence from Mexico. It extended to every public area of the bank. Visitors often believed, in error, that the name “Texican” was a pander to the state’s growing Hispanic population. The truth is that Texicans were warp and woof of the fabric of the rebellious nation, regardless of their ethnicity or nationality. All Texicans were patriots, and the only patriots were Texicans.

  Whenever Gabe accompanied his father to the bank, the exhibits captured his attention and fueled his imagination. If he ever cried it was because it was time to go. Every visit to Austin was anticlimactic without at least a drive by the bank.

  “See that guy?”

  Alyssa followed his finger to a portrait of Juan Seguin. Her expression said, “So?”

  “He’s the guy that took the Alamo from the Mexicans in the first place. Then, a few months later, when Santa Anna came with 1800 men to crush the 250 defenders, Seguin was the one Travis asked to ride through enemy lines to bring back reinforcements.”

  “So he got out while the getting was good? He was a coward.” She looked at him with distaste. “This is your hero?”

  “He’s hardly a coward. Seguin rode all over rounding up reinforcements. When they got back to the Alamo the battle was over. He and his reinforcements hooked up with Sam Houston and a few weeks later they kicked Santa Ana’s booty at San Jacinto. Santa Ana cried uncle and signed a treaty with the new Republic of Texas.”

  She still didn’t get it.

  “He was a survivor, Alyssa, a relentless survivor. He never gave up. That’s why he’s one of my heroes. When the going gets tough, the tough keep on going, like that battery bunny.”

  Alyssa smiled. “It makes sense when you explain it like that. Louis Pasteur’s my hero for the same reason. Anthrax, cholera, rabies – he created vaccines for all of them and paved the way for what I do. And the only model he had to follow was Jenner’s smallpox vaccine. He was relentless in his own way. He just never gave up. He was relentless, too.”

  Now it was his turn to smile. “Then let’s be relentless and see what Burton Chance left his little boy.”

  They strolled across the lobby past a magnificent, life-sized statue of a vaquero on a rearing stallion and stopped at the information desk.

  “Safe deposit boxes?” he said, holding up the thin, brass key.

  A young man in his early twenties came around the desk and said, “Let me show you,” and started walking. When they reached a desk near a long hallway, the man introduced them to a small, middle-aged woman with oversized hoop earrings and a smile that claimed half her face. “This is Jenna Royston. She can help you.”

  “Hi. What size box would you like?” Ms. Royston’s voice was low, more bass than alto, and totally incongruous with the woman’s size and demeanor.

  “Uh, um, I – we…” Gabe had lost his place but the doctor saved him.

  “We already have a box. We would just like to open it,” she said.

  “Oh. All right, then. Just sign here, Ms…?”

  “Doctor Carter,” she said, “but the box belongs to Mr. Chance.”

  Ms. Royston followed her smile to Gabe. Without rolling her eyes she pushed the register to him and said, “Please print your name and sign here, Mr. Chance. I’ll need your identification and your key.”

  Gabe passed her his key and driver license.

  “Let me just look this up,” she smiled to her computer screen. After a moment, the big smile faded a bit and concern creased the space between her well-plucked eyebrows. “Mr. Chance, I’m not finding you on our system…”

  “Try ‘Burton Chance’.”

  The creases deepened, and then they vanished as the giant smile claimed her face again. “Here you are,” she said, pressing the ‘Enter’ button. “Oh,” she told the screen, glancing at Gabe’s license, then to him, and back to the screen. The smile scurried away and the creases returned. “Oh… um, will you excuse me for a moment?” She pressed a button and the screen went black before she wheeled away from the desk and sauntered to a large, glass-fronted office. Her voice rumbled like distant thunder as she spoke with an older, grey-haired gentleman in a dark pin-striped suit. He gazed through the window at them, and then nodded, speaking a few words before rising and preceding her to the door.

  Alyssa whispered, “Surprised you with that voice, didn’t she? Where did she get such a deep voice?”

  “Genetics? Her vocal chords must be as thick as ropes,” he whispered.

  Ms. Royston and the man appeared at the desk.

  “Mr. Chance?” he held out his hand. His smile was genuine. “I’m Glen Hustadler. I’ll bet you don’t remember me.”

  Gabe shook hands with the man and said, “No, sir. I don’t think I do.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to. We only met once about 30 years ago, but your father talked about you often. He was very proud of you.” The words were not unusual, but the way he said them was like a secret handshake, rife with hidden meaning.

  “The feeling was mutual, Mr. Hustadler. I was proud of him, too.”

  “And, you’re Mrs. Chance?”

  “No,” said Alyssa. “I’m Doctor Carter. I’m Gabe’s veterinarian.”

  Mr. Hustadler clicked his heels, said, “A delightful pleasure, Doctor,” after which he bowed at the waist, took her right hand and kissed the air above it.

  She blushed and pulled her hand away.

  “Mr. Chance, will you do me the honor of following me?”

  “Uh, sure.” Gabe felt as if he had fallen asleep and awakened in a 1930’s black and white movie full of outdated manners and mores.

  Mr. Hustadler led them past an armed guard into a large room with safety deposit boxes of various sizes lining all four walls. He walked to one of the walls, tilted his head backwards and began scanning the numbers stamped into the metal until his finger rested on one. He held Gabe’s key where he could also read it, smiled with satisfaction and said, “Yes, here it is.” He inserted the key in the bottom lock and then inserted a master key in the upper. He opened the door wide and removed the master key before saying, “You may review the box in one of our viewing rooms.” He indicated an open door which had previously escaped Gabe’s attention. “Press the button on the wall when you are finished and I will return. Take all the time you want.” With that, he turned on his heel and left them standing before the long box which now belonged to him.

  Gabe stroked his chin with the palm of his right hand. He shrugged, sighed and grabbed the wire handle. Then he stopped, surprised. The box was heavier than he was expecting. He stepped closer and pulled the heavy box with his right hand, supporting it with his left. When it finally came free he carried it to the viewing room. Alyssa closed the door behind them.

  “Are you excited?” she said.

  “Curious.” He shrugged and flipped the latch. “Let’s see what the mystery is all about.” He pulled the lid open a couple of inches before slamming it shut. His eyes were wide and as large as silver dollars.

  “Holy moly!” he whispered.

  “What? What was that?” she said.

  For a moment all Gabe could do was blink. Then he swallowed and took hold of the lid again. He blew air from his mouth, and opened it, all the way leaning the lid back against the wall. The front quarter of the box was filled with thick, shiny gold coins. Gabe was surprised at both their lustre and the size. They were a little larger in diameter than a quarter, but appeared to be almost twice as thick. The only other thing in the box was a sheet of paper folded in thirds, like a letter.

  “Holy moly,” he said again.

  “At least,” she said. “How much is it?”

  “That explains the weight,” he said. “But where did he get all this?”

  “How much is here?”
She was captivated by the treasure and spoke without looking at him. It was as if the contents of the box had magnetized her eyes and she could not take them away.

  He touched one of the coins and picked it up. He angled it to catch the light. “‘One ounce fine gold – 50 dollars’,” he read. “Isn’t gold worth more than $50 an ounce?”

  “I think so: at least ten times that.”

  “Hold on a minute.” He upended the box and poured the coins on the counter.

  Alyssa’s eyes were as big as saucers. “There must be twenty or thirty thousand dollars here!”

  He began counting the coins. He placed them in stacks of five and then counted the stacks. There were nine stacks with one left over.

  “Forty-six,” he said. “What’s that,” he did mental math, counting on his fingers and moving his lips.” “Ten times five is fifty times five hundred is… wow! Five hundred thousand dollars!”

  Her face wrinkled and then she said, “You’re not a math wizard are you?”

  “Whaddaya mean?”

  “It’s closer to $25,000.”

  His face drooped.

  “It’s still a lot of money, Gabe. That’s more than I made my first year in practice!”

  “I don’t get it.” He didn’t, either. He had temporarily lost his ability to think. In a daze he slipped one of the coins into his pocket.

  “Read the paper, Gabe! Maybe there’s more.”

  “Where did he get this?” He said to himself.

  “Read the paper. Maybe it will tell us,” she said.

  Gabe dropped his eyes to the paper. “Good idea. Let’s see what it says.” He slid the folded paper out of the box and held it at arm’s length.

  “Open it!” she said. “Open it!”

  The paper was folded into thirds, a standard letter fold. Inside, in his father’s hand were several paragraphs. He read them to himself. Alyssa peered over his shoulder.

  Dear Gabe,

  Your mother and I were not in agreement on how to leave you your inheritance. I’m not sure what her final decision was, of course. That was a private and personal decision, as is mine. But if I know Lucille, she’s wrapped everything she left you with baling wire and left you without a pair of wire cutters – which means you are also under Peabody’s thumb – which is not a comfortable place to be.