Retriever Ransom

Chapter Five

“I brought it with me,” Mayor Dennison explained, then withdrew the folded ransom note from his wallet. He handed it over to me, and Nan edged closer to read it over my shoulder, her lips moving as she soundlessly voiced each word.

The note was typed on a plain white piece of computer paper. The font was so large it filled the entire page with just a few harsh words: Resign. Or the dog gets it.

“Well, what do they mean by that?” Nan quipped. “They should have been more specific.”

For the first time, I noticed that the usually stoic mayor had tears in his eyes. “Do you really think they’d hurt Marco?” he asked, momentarily casting his gaze toward the floor.

I swallowed down the dry lump in my throat and said, “I don’t know,” rather unhelpfully. We still had no idea who they could be.

“Please find out who did this,” he begged, actually folding his hands and shaking them my way. “I’ll pay. I’ll pay whatever you need. Marco is the only family I have. We’ve been through it all together, and I can’t stand the thought of anything untoward happening to him.”

“Who would want you to resign so badly that they’d resort to dognapping?” I asked, forcing myself to remain focused on the facts.

At the same time, Nan blurted out, “Of course we’ll take your case. Consider us hired.”

He glanced back and forth between us, apparently unsure who he should address first.

Octo-Cat appeared from wherever he’d been hiding and jumped onto the coffee table right beside Nan’s carefully arranged tea service. As he flicked his tail, he stared down his nose at the mayor, appraising our new client. “I don’t know if I want to help find a lost dog,” he said with a sneer. “This will forever go down in history as our first paying case, and it’s about a stupid dog?”

Paisley whined and covered her snout with her paws.

But Octo-Cat continued unperturbed. “I mean, it’s not even dead. We’ve been on a roll with the murders lately. Last time, we helped solve two murders. Two! Don’t you see? A dognapping case is beneath us.”

I shot my cat a disgusted look, wishing I could give him a firm tongue-lashing. Unfortunately, I had to ignore his sandpaper barbs as the mayor sat eyeing me intently.

“Yes, we’ll take the case. In fact, it will be our top priority,” I said with what I hoped was a reassuring nod.

“Yeah,” Octo-Cat drolled. “Because we don’t have any other cases right now.”

I swept my hand across the coffee table and knocked him to the floor. “Bad kitty,” I said emphatically, knowing I’d pay for it later.

“Do you have any pictures of Marco?” Nan asked before taking a long slurp of her quickly cooling tea.

“He’s a golden retriever. Looks like a standard golden retriever, no unique markings or anything. I post all kinds of photos on my Facebook page, though, if you need them.”

“Thank you. That would be helpful,” I said, taking back over. I was the P.I. here, after all. “What we really need to talk about, though, is your enemies.”

“My enemies?” he asked, taken aback. His jaw set in a firm, hard line, and his eyes turned colder than our tea.

“Clearly you have some if one of them would resort to ransoming Marco. But before we get into that, would it be okay for me to address you by your first name or do you prefer it to be more formal…?”

He shook his head, his normally placid expression returning just as quickly as it had left. “Yes, of course. Call me Mark.”

It struck me then that I either hadn’t heard his first name before or that I’d at least never connected the fact that he’d named his dog after himself, then tacked on one extra syllable. Mark. Marco.

“Mark,” I said, forcing myself to keep a straight face. “Mark it is.”

We all sat silently for a moment.

“Now, I know it can’t be easy to talk about, but it’s important. Given the show at the inauguration, your election has been quite controversial. Why is that?”

Although I didn’t follow politics closely, I’d read the odd news report on this topic. Still, I wanted to get Mark’s take on the situation to see what added insights he could provide.

He licked his lips and steepled his fingers before him. “The usual things mostly. The fact I’m a bachelor is a big one. How can a single man be committed to building a family community? they all ask.” He scoffed at this, pausing briefly before he continued.

“And as you know, the vote was quite close. I won by hardly more than a percentage point. My opponent’s supporters demanded a recount, but that was ultimately deemed a waste of taxpayers’ money, and so I was sworn in.”

I knew all this. The mayor had to be holding something back. Neither of these reasons were enough for someone to threaten harm to a lovable golden retriever, whether or not they disliked his owner. Golden retrievers were largely considered America’s top family dog, and I’m sure it won back some points for the mayor that he had one.

Still, something wasn’t quite adding up.

“Is that all?” I asked cautiously.

“That’s all,” Mark assured me with a quick nod.

Octo-Cat settled himself onto my feet, but not before giving my big toe a solid bite as punishment for my stunt earlier. “He’s lying,” the tabby informed me with a low growl.

I took a deep steadying breath, then focused my gaze back on the mayor. “Are you sure there’s nothing else? No other possible reason for the kidnapping?”

“None,” Mark insisted, smiling reassuringly in my direction.

“He’s still lying,” Octo-Cat revealed, but I could now see that for myself, too. “Definitely lying.”

“Oh…kay,” I said slowly, breaking the small word into two distinct sounds. “Then why don’t you tell me about the last few days. Did anything unusual happen? Did anyone seem extra interested in Marco at this time?”

As I listened to the mayor prattle on about his busy life, I couldn’t help wondering why he’d hire me and then withhold at least part of the truth.

A dishonest client, no doubt, would make solving the case much more difficult. Still, I couldn’t allow Marco to suffer for his owner’s crimes—whatever they were.

I guess we’d be finding out soon enough.