Retriever Ransom

Chapter Seven

Mayor Dennison live in a surprisingly modest house on the far edge of town. Part of me had hoped we’d have housekeepers, cooks, butlers, and a full garrulous staff to question, but just like crime—small-town politics didn’t pay.

It was clear Mayor Mark lived alone. It was also clear that nobody was at home. What wasn’t clear was how Nan knew where to find him.

“Think we can break in?” she asked now, rifling through her pockets for who knew what.

Paisley heaved a giant sigh from her place affixed to the front of Nan’s chest. I had to admit, she looked absolutely adorable in that Puppy Bjorn.

“I’d rather not start our investigation by committing a B&E,” I said. My breath rose above us in icy puffs.

“Look at you with the lingo,” Nan crooned, clutching a hand to her chest, or rather to Paisley on her chest. “You don’t have to help, but—yeah—I’m breaking in.”

I groaned. Of course she was.

Paisley whined and shivered so violently I was surprised that Nan didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you okay?” I asked the dogcicle.

“S-S-S-S-So c-c-c-cold,” she answered weakly.

“Nan,” I called as she moved toward the porch with a sure stride. “Nan, we need to put Paisley back in the car with the heat running.”

“N-N-N-N-No,” Paisley cried, her eyes practically sealed shut with quick freezing tears. “I w-w-want to h-h-help.”

“I’m not letting you catch your death,” I promised whether or not she wanted to hear it. “C’mon, I’ll take you back to the car.”

“Hang on a minute there,” Nan muttered. “We’ll be inside the house in just a…” She bit her tongue as she maneuvered something in the lock.

“Second,” she finished triumphantly and pushed the door open, motioning for me to lead us inside.

Oh, I didn’t like this at all. As bad as it was to take part in this unlawful entry, it would have been even worse to send Nan inside unsupervised.

“Five minutes,” I hissed between clenched teeth. “Then we go, no matter what.”

“Well, you’re no fun.”

I ignored that last barb and searched the tidy open floor plan for something that might prove useful in our investigation.

“Look for a home office,” Nan suggested, already sneaking deeper into the house.

“Hello?” A deep voice called from the top of the staircase, turning my blood cold despite the warm air inside.

My eyes zoomed toward the mayor, who stood in a matching flannel pajama set staring at us with huge, unblinking eyes. “Oh, Mark, hi,” I sputtered, unable to rip my eyes away. How were we going to explain this one?

Even though I had no answers, Nan was quick to save the day.

“Didn’t you hear us knock?” she asked, bringing both hands to her hips.

The mayor looked back behind him for a second. “No, I was—”

“Well, then you should at least lock your door. Really, anyone could wander in off the streets.”

He ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head with a sigh. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

We all stood staring at each other for a few silent moments.

Finally Mark spoke up, putting the uncomfortable moment to rest. “Can I, uh, help you with something?”

“We wanted to talk with you a bit more about the… the-the… the case,” I explained quickly, stumbling over a few choice words. “We don’t have much to go on and thought—”

“I told you everything I know,” the mayor interrupted with a scowl. “It’s all I have. That’s why I hired you to find and put together the rest of the pieces. Are you suggesting you’re not up for the task?”

Nan laughed at this. “Oh, we’ll handle it. Don’t you worry. Your case is as good as solved with Pet Whisperer, P.I.”

I still hated that name, but Nan and Mom had both made sure I’d be stuck with it going forward.

Mark straightened to his full height and finally descended the stairs. “Well, good. That’s just what I needed to hear.”

“Since we’re here,” I jumped in smoothly before the mayor could push us out the door. “Would you mind giving us a quick tour as it relates to Marco and his daily schedule? It always helps to get into the victim’s head when we can.”

“Yes, a tour would be most helpful,” Nan agreed, nodding vigorously.

Paisley barked her agreement. The way the carrier shook suggested that she had tried rather unsuccessfully to wag her tail.

“Sure. Okay.” Mark shook his head, ran another hand through his hair, then waved for us to follow. What followed was a lengthy description of the missing golden retriever’s daily comings and goings, including when and what he ate, where he liked to sleep, his favorite spots to pee in the yard, and more.

“So as I’m sure you can see,” the mayor said when the tour concluded, “despite my own busy schedule, Marco was well taken care of and very much loved. Please bring him home safely. And soon.”

“We will. We will,” Nan assured him.

Personally, I would rather under promise and overdeliver. “We’ll do everything we can,” I said as we shook hands goodbye.

Paisley, however, had other, more important things on her mind.

“Marco has good instincts,” she whispered in admiration on our way out. “If I lived here, I would choose to pee there, too.”

I glanced toward the area on the side of the house the mayor had pointed out mid-way through our tour. The snow was too fresh and too deep to give anything away.

But, well, at least our abducted dog had good taste in pee spots. As for our case, we still had absolutely nothing to go on.

Yet.