To Catch a Treat (22 page)

thirty-two

“What?” I demanded of
him. “I thought you wanted me to find the dogs and Tim and let you know where they were.”

“I did,” Garvy said calmly. “And now we can take the dogs and I'll do my job of getting them back to their owners—and get paid for it.”

“But Delma was collecting ransom for them. She said she wants to collect more.” I looked from one of them to the other, thoroughly confused.

Or maybe not so confused. The answer, or at least part of it, was fairly clear. Whether or not they'd started out working together, they were doing so now.

“And all's well at last,” Garvy said. “I'll give Delma some of what I earn for helping me. We've got the dogs, and no one's going to stand in our way of getting them back home so I can successfully conclude my case.” He looked down onto the floor where Tim lay.

Had Delma drugged him? Why else was Tim staying unconscious so long?

“I certainly won't stand in your way either,” I assured him. “I've wanted to make sure these dogs get home safely from the moment I heard about the dognapping situation.”

“Oh, but this got a bit complicated,” Delma said. She was smiling broadly at me now—and her gun hand hadn't wavered. “I didn't really intend to kill Ada, but it happened, even though Garvy tried to help get her to talk. Oh, did I neglect to mention he joined me there at the lake and even helped to hold Ada for a while?” Her grin widened even more, if that was possible. “Didn't want to mention him before in case you happened to get away, though it was unlikely then and definitely not going to happen now. Anyway, when Garvy and I discussed it afterward, we figured that most of our goals could be achieved in common, so we decided to hide what had really happened to Ada. But the thing is, you know about it now. So what I've told you, about Tim killing you and then committing suicide, well, it's still about to happen. But if you were wondering how I could handle all that myself—now I don't have to.” She turned her head to level a smile at Garvy for just an instant, then looked back to me, a more serious expression back on her face.

What was I going to do?

Some of the dogs, who'd settled down for a while, had roused when Garvy had entered and were now wandering around the floor, sniffing at him or the other humans, including me. And Tim.

Garvy hadn't pulled out a weapon, but he didn't need to with Delma's still aimed at me. I'd considered him a potential suspect, too, but I'd never considered there'd be two killers working together.

I suddenly became even more aware of the foul smells around us. Was this going to be my last contact with dogs? With people?

I glanced around, trying not to completely panic. And then I got an idea.

Would it work? Probably not. But I had to do something. And if nothing else, it might make Delma's shot miss me, or, if it hit me, it wouldn't be fatal. Sometimes people survived gunshot wounds.

Would I?

Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Tim move. Was he awakening? Even if he was, that didn't mean he'd be able to help, or even want to.

I had to try this myself.

I pasted a mournful expression on my face—not hard to do under the circumstances. I turned my head toward Garvy. “I thought we were becoming friends,” I said. “Even the possibility of something more.” Fortunately, I didn't gag on that. “I promise I'll keep quiet.” But not that I wouldn't move; I started to shift very carefully. “Can't you give me a chance?”

“That's pathetic,” Delma said, and I could have kissed her since her speaking also provided a bit of a diversion.

Suddenly, I pulled the plastic bag from beneath my arm, reached into it, and threw as many treats as I could hold toward her, yelling, “Treats, dogs!”

I only hoped that, if she did get off some shots, they didn't hit the dogs who now leapt and swarmed around her trying to get some of those biscuits.

That's when I saw that Tim actually was awake. Groggy, maybe, but he rolled himself toward where Garvy was and grabbed at his legs.

Garvy fell. Delma screamed and I dropped to the floor, watching her and her gun hand, waiting for her to shoot—but glad that she now appeared to be aiming up at the roof.

And then—then I really smiled at the next thing I heard from outside the kitchen door. “Drop your weapons. Police!”

It was Saturday evening now, four days after the excitement at that hidden cabin in the woods.

I sat at the Knobcone Resort bar, surrounded by friends who were celebrating my survival as well as the saving of all those dogs.

I hadn't counted the number of tables that had been pushed together beneath the dim light, since I hadn't counted the number of people who were here to celebrate my survival—and the imminent homecomings of all the dogs we'd found in the decrepit old house. There were quite a few of them, even though this group didn't include the ones who'd already been resold. I was glad to hear that the police, with information from Tim, were still looking into those cases.

I sat closest to Reed. He'd spent a lot of time with me since the showdown at the cabin, and called often when we weren't together.

I really liked this guy.

Hugo and Biscuit were at our feet here in the bar, as well as Billi's Fanny and Flip. So were Go and Shobie, since Janelle was taking care of the miserable Delma's innocent dog for now. She would try to find her a great new home—most likely with Billi's help.

Sweetie, the adorable pup from Mountaintop Rescue who looked so much like Biscuit, was there, too. I'd introduced her to the Joes, who already loved Biscuit, and they'd fallen in love and were adopting her. They, too, had come here to help me celebrate.

“You won't ever do that again, will you, Ms. Kennersly?”

That was Detective Wayne Crunoll, who sat across the table from me. He and Detective Bridget Morana had shown up at the cabin at just the right time, despite how I thought they'd planned to ignore my plea to at least come check out a potential murder suspect even if they didn't care what happened to the dogs. Their boss was here as well, but Chief Loretta was a few tables down from me, sitting and chatting with my friend and City Councilman Les Ethman. He was here with his bulldog Sam and his other family members, Neal's boss Elise and her husband Walt Hainner.

“What—try to save dogs?” I replied to Wayne. “Or a friend who was almost unjustly accused of murder? Heavens, no.”

I knew Wayne caught the utter sarcasm in my voice but all he did was smile, though grimly.

Despite the sarcasm, I truly never wanted to go through anything like that again. I'd do my utmost to help dogs in difficult situations, of course. But I'd already been involved in solving two murders. That was way more than enough.

“Let me be the first to toast our hero Carrie.” That was Jack Loroco, who sat at one of the nearer tables—with Billi. He'd been utterly charming to me since they'd arrived here at the bar together. But I saw the way the two of them looked at one another and knew that they were an item, at least for now. That was fine with me. I liked Jack and his idea about buying some of my recipes for his company—maybe. But my one-time thought about us developing a potential relationship had been a non-starter.

“Hear, hear,” shouted Dinah. My chief assistant had been thrilled to hear not only that I was okay, but how complicated things had gotten as I'd tried to save the dogs and catch a murder suspect. She had taken a lot of notes for her writing.

“Then here's to our Carrie, and to Icing on the Cake and Barkery and Biscuits. Oh, and to her dog Biscuit, of course.” Jack had lifted his mug of beer into the air, and everyone else lifted their own drinks. “May you always be well and successful, and never again get involved with a murder.”

As people began to clink their glasses, I raised my own wine glass and said, “I'll drink to that.”

“So will I,” Neal said vehemently from across the table.

“Me too,” Janelle said from beside him. She had been grateful for my attempts to help her before, and now she was filled with so much gratitude that nearly everything she said to me contained a thank-you.

But I was thanking her, too. After taking a sip of her wine, she stood and started taking photos. She was not only memorializing this event for me, but would use it to provide more publicity online for my shops, as she had already been doing with other pictures of me, my treats, and my patrons.

I was glad to see that, down the end of the table to my right, Chef Manfred Indor was present, along with George Sackson and Frida. No doubt they were discussing food—and, hopefully, more treats for both shops. Vicky, who wasn't quite as into food as Frida, sat with them nevertheless.

My friend and one-time attorney Ted Culbert had slipped in just a short while ago. He, too, raised a beer mug to toast me.

When the toasting was over, at least for now, I looked at Wayne Crunoll. He and Bridget and Loretta were all dressed casually, clearly off duty—a good thing, since they were all drinking. I assumed they'd be sure not to drive away drunk.

“What can you tell us about your investigation into Ada Arnist's murder and finding the dogs?” I asked him. Unsurprisingly, neither Ada's parents nor Tim had come here to celebrate. I still didn't know if the senior Arnists were in town, and Tim, who had indeed been drugged by Delma, was under arrest—though only for dog theft, selling about half a dozen stolen dogs, forging their pedigrees, and using something, maybe a strong magnet, to damage the radio frequencies emitted by their microchips. These were paltry charges compared with murder.

Still, there could be some nice stiff penalties for all of that. I hoped.

Even so, I'd learned that Tim was in fact a dog lover. He had kept moving around, dumping dogs at Mountaintop Rescue. He'd wanted to flee but couldn't fit them all into his car at one time, and he hadn't wanted to abandon them.

At least Tim had some redeeming qualities—including helping to save my life.

“I can't say much, since the investigation is ongoing,” Wayne said, then glanced at Bridget.

She smiled, something I liked to see on the serious detective. “No, we can't talk about a current investigation,” she said, “but here's a little off-the-record speculation.” She glanced at Janelle. “No photos, please.” And then she looked toward Dinah, whom she apparently knew was an aspiring writer. “And don't write anything about this.”

“All I write is fiction,” Dinah assured her, “so anything I'd say would be all made up anyway.”

The speculation and off-the-record discussion indicated that both Delma and Grant Garvy—his real name—were under arrest for the murder of Ada Arnist. Delma had allegedly been the one to toss Ada into the water to get her to talk, then hold her there. Grant, also wanting information about the location of the missing dogs, had joined them and also held Ada under—apparently after claiming he would save her from Delma if she'd only talk. Purportedly, Ada had started talking a bit about Tim Thorine, aka Tim Smith, and where he might have gone with the dogs, but even with that they hadn't gotten her out of the water, at least not in time to save her life—if they'd even wanted to.

We talked about all that for a while. Billi had been called in to have the now-found dogs brought to Mountaintop Rescue for a while, and the place was crowded but they had somehow made room. Some of the dogs were still there, waiting until their owners could come get them. Owners of a few of them hadn't yet been identified, but the media had been alerted, so the likelihood was that they, too, would be claimed soon. Information about all the dogs had been gathered, and law enforcement agencies near where the owners lived had been put on notice.

Having the dogs housed temporarily at the shelter would mean a delay in our first planned adoption event at the Barkery, but it would come. And thanks to Jack, the dogs who got adopted through it would not only go home with some of our treats, but with a supply of VimPets products, too.

And Janelle would help publicize it, whenever it happened.

The important thing, of course, was that the stolen dogs had been saved—even the couple that Tim had dumped outside Mountaintop Rescue on the fateful day when I'd located the rest.

To my surprise, Gwen, the server, also joined us for a while, sitting near Neal and Janelle. They all seemed to be acting like friends, although I still wasn't completely sure if Gwen had dumped Neal or vice versa.

The party went on for another hour or so. Unlike at Janelle's celebration, no one argued or exchanged harsh words—a good thing, since it suggested that tonight was unlikely to result in anything like murder, or someone becoming a suspect in one.

When it was over, Neal took me aside and said he was going to Janelle's hotel with her for a while—although she would soon be looking for an inexpensive apartment in town. She planned to stay for a good long while, and he seemed entirely happy about it.

That meant Biscuit and I would also be alone, at least at first, at our home. I invited Reed and Hugo to join us there.

That way, the celebration could continue for a while.

And I would be able to raise a toast once more to the excellent conclusion of my non-investigation, as well as to the hope that I would never have to conduct one again.

Plus, I'd have really good company doing it.

the end

barkery and biscuits dog treat recipes

I've tried these with my dogs, and both loved them! Of course, be careful to use only ingredients that agree with your own pups. And definitely make sure you use carob, NOT chocolate, in the Dog Carob Cookies.

Dog Carob Cookies

Thanks to, and with comments from, Susan Frank!

1
1
⁄
2
cups oat flour (I use oat, but regular should be fine)
1
1
⁄
2
cups brown rice flour
1 cup carob chips
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla (I use a dash more)
1
⁄
2
cup water

Heat oven to 350°F. Put all ingredients together and mix well. Roll them into balls (like meatballs) and place on cookie sheet. (I use parchment paper as I hate cleaning a cookie pan.) They don't spread while cooking, so press them down with your hand. I sometimes use a funny cookie cutter after I've pressed them down, but I think that's more for me than the dogs. Bake them about 18 minutes; the edges will get brown. Cooling them on a wire rack so air gets under them will also make them crispier.

Susan also suggested leaving them in the oven a little longer after turning off the heat, which is my preference to make the cookies crisper.