Downward Dog, page 3
part #1 of Dog Yoga Mystery Series
“She. Will. Not.” Hine stepped away, glaring at him as best she could from her subservient position. “If no one else steps in to care for this animal, I’m taking her home. I’ll take good care of her until the dame is returned.”
“Well,” the constable wrinkled his brow, looking around for help that wasn’t forthcoming. “I suppose that’s okay. Can I get your name and number?”
“It’s Hine Trewlove.” She fished her mobile out of her back pocket, clinging to Penelope’s collar as the dog attempted to lunge away. “My numbers on there. Loaded under ‘me’ in contacts.”
“You don’t know your own phone number?” The officer seemed amused.
“I never call myself. If that’s all…?” Hine waved a hand in his direction and he slapped the phone back into it.
“Was the dog near Dame Cholmondeley during the abduction?”
“It was running back indoors,” another witness said, stepping forward. “When the dame let her down, she turned and sprinted away.”
“How long do you expect this tape to be here?” Hine’s fingers were going numb from the pressure of the collar. She switched to the other hand, earning a moment of relief.
The officer shrugged. “Can’t say. Until the sergeant says we’ve finished processing the crime scene.”
“I’ve got another three yoga classes today,” Hine said with a frown. She tried to calculate the potential losses if she needed to cancel all of them and came up with a figure that launched her straight into a bad mood. “I can’t cancel them without going broke.”
To her dismay, the PC didn’t appear interested. “There’s nothing I can do. A crime’s been committed, and we need to comb the area for evidence. Until it’s done…” Another shrug.
Wiremu held his hand up, consumed by the same concern. “We’re both losing money while you have this cordon up. Can’t you let our clients go through?”
“Sure, the sergeant will be happy to let people tramp through his crime scene. It’s a no-brainer.”
By the time Hine worked out he was being sarcastic, her chest had lurched with hope. To have it taken away again made her scowl. “It’s not a joke. This is our livelihood. We don’t have the public purse to rely on for our pay.”
Before the policeman could respond, a vehicle pulled up near them, crashing straight through the yellow warning tape. Hine exchanged an amused glance with Wiremu, then watched with interest as an elderly lady stumbled out of the backseat, tossing a wad of cash at the driver.
“I’m not late, am I?” she shouted out to the assembled crowd. “My girls told me this was the spot to start my bachelorette party.” The woman extended a silver balloon with the words ‘Hen Party’ in bright pink across the front.
The colour of the lettering matched exactly to her outfit. A pink onesie.
Identical to the one Penelope still wore.
Chapter Five
“What were your friends planning?” Hine asked when the pause extended out too long. Around her, people stared at the elderly woman. Even Penelope stopped struggling to get free.
“I don’t know,” the woman answered, giggling. “Something fabulous, I hope. It’s not every day you get married for the first time at the ripe old age of seventy-three!”
“Do you think they’d kidnap you off the street?” The constable appeared to find his bearings and stepped forward, notebook out. “I’ve seen movies where that kind of thing happened.”
“Fun!” The woman gasped, then broke into giggles again. “Sorry,” she said, waving her hand. “But the hairdresser offered me a glass of champagne and I took advantage. I’m not usually this tipsy at…” She squinted at her watch.
“Ten fifteen,” the PC answered.
When he turned, Hine noticed he wore a name badge. Perry. Was that a first or a last name? She looked around for another officer to check, then scolded herself for doing so. What did it matter what his name was? She wouldn’t be using it again.
“I have no idea what plans they have,” the woman said but her face grew cloudy. “Except…”
“Yes?” The officer leaned forward, eager.
“They should’ve been here by now.” Her merriment dissipated in a cloud of worry. “Ten on the dot, they told me.” She cupped her elbows in her hands. “I do hope they haven’t left without me.”
“Just a moment.” The policeman moved to one side, calling to his sergeant on the walkie talkie clipped to his chest. “I’ll have my superior officer come and talk to you. There’s a possibility we’ve had a terrible mix-up.”
The woman looked even more downcast at the news, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“I saw an article about you in the paper this morning,” Hine said to distract her. “Are you Rosalie Blendale?”
“Yes, but why’s the paper writing about me?”
“There was a lovely story about how you and your husband-to-be went to school together years ago, then met up again last month.”
Rosalie pressed a palm to her chest, blushing bright crimson. “How wonderful. I talked to a man who dropped by, but he didn’t say we’d make it into the paper. I thought he’d be reporting on one of those online thingies everyone uses these days.”
“You should stop at the dairy, I’m sure he’ll have some copies left. If not,”—Hine jerked her head at the Yoga Studio—“drop by anytime and I’ll save mine for you.”
“That’s very kind—”
“Rosalie!” a chorus of voices called out. “We’re over here!”
The woman’s head jerked around, and a smile blossomed as she saw her friends on the other side of the cordon.
“Betty! Where’s your onesie?” she yelled back. “I thought we’d sworn on a solemn oath to look as silly as each other.”
“I’m saving it for my wedding day,” the woman said, laughing. “Pink might suit you, but it made me look like a hundred-year-old melted Barbie doll.”
Having already ignored the tape during her arrival, Rosalie did so again, ploughing straight through the middle of the area to greet her friends with hugs and kisses.
“I guess they didn’t kidnap the wrong woman,” Hine said in a sympathetic voice, seeing how despondent the young officer had become. “Seems you have a real-life abduction on your hands.”
“And you still need to answer our question,” Wiremu reminded him. “If you’re happy to let Rosalie drive through the tape, I presume our clients can do the same.”
“Don’t either of you try it until you receive official word you’re allowed to,” the PC said, pointing his pen like an accusing finger. “Only when an officer in uniform has told you it’s okay.”
Wiremu rolled his eyes and Hine picked Penelope back up, needing a cuddle.
“In that case, can I take Penelope home and get her settled? Staying out here will just make her more agitated.” Not to mention, me!
“Yeah, go along, both of you. Not much you can tell me when you were both inside at the time.”
Wiremu and Hine trudged along the street, turning to look back at the spectacle every few steps. Part of her regretted leaving the scene of the most interesting thing to happen since she’d moved to Pinetar.
“You want to go for a coffee?” Wiremu asked. “I need to send out messages to my clients, telling them not to bother coming along today.”
“Do you really think they’ll keep us out all day?” Hine tried not to let the despair edge into her voice, but it was a hard-fought battle. “I can’t afford to cancel that many classes. It’s not like I can make up the difference later.”
Come to think of it, the business interruption insurance her accountant had advised her to get might be handy for this situation. Of course, Hine hadn’t followed his advice about that any more than she’d cared for his opinion of her business plans.
“I’m not holding my breath. If it goes on any longer, I’ll have to take my portable massage table around to people’s homes.” Wiremu shuddered. “Being alone in a house with an oiled client is a whole new level of terror.”
Hine burst into laughter at the thought, waving goodbye as he headed into the Honeysuckle café. The scents coming out the door were gorgeous—redolent with spices, honey, and that good old white devil sugar.
She might have been swayed but a waitress near the doorway glared at Penelope. Just from her expression, Hine guessed there was a no-tolerance policy towards pets.
“If they don’t want me in there, they can’t be very good,” Penelope said when Hine explained the situation.
“I think they’re worried about hygiene.”
“What?” Penelope stared at her with a hurt expression. “I bathe. The dame took me to the groomer’s just last month.”
“It’s just ignorance.” They reached the car and Hine gave Penelope the run of the back seat. “We’ll need to find you something to eat, I suppose. Do you prefer one brand over another?”
Penelope’s snout landed right beside Hine’s ear, snuffling and snorting in delight. “I have no idea. I used to think my food was made from dogs, judging by the pictures on the side.” She looked downcast again for a second. “A Scottish terrier at the park put me right on that score.”
Hine gave the upset pup a pat. She could easily guess the correction had come along with a fair dose of laughter at the bulldog’s expense. If she had her way, she’d line up all the bullies in the world, canine or human, and have the mean stripped out of them. It would make everything much better.
“What about the colour of the bag? Is the food wet or dry?”
“It’s dry but then the dame pours something on top and makes it mushy.” Penelope’s enthusiasm came to the fore again, salivating at the memory. “I like it best when she only does it halfway—then it’s hard and soft at the same time.”
“Sounds good.”
It didn’t. The smell of dog food made Hine feel ill. If it was from a can, she’d be gagging the moment she pulled the tab back enough to crack the seal. With dry food, it might be better, but the thought of putting water on top sent her stomach rolling.
Pour and run away, you sissy.
As Hine walked along the pet food aisle, the array of colours and varieties made her dizzy. She picked up one bag, hoping the fact the dog on the front looked like Penelope meant it would suit her. When she turned it over, her lips twisted in dismay at the ingredients.
Emu oil? How on earth would someone get oil out of a giant bird? Hine screwed her face up as her mind helpfully provided a few graphic ideas.
Chicken meal was more understandable, but it still made her vegan soul shudder.
“Excuse me?” she called out to a shelf stacker who immediately feigned deafness. “Hello? Do you have any dog food that’s more… animal-friendly?”
The young man sighed and shuffled over to her side, pulling the bag from her hand to scan the ingredients. “This is good for animals.”
“I mean, doesn’t include so many of them on the ingredient list.”
“Like vegetarian?” He scratched the back of his head and wrinkled his nose. “There’s some around here.”
He stooped over, scanning the shelves with his face a mere centimetre away. Hine stepped back to give him room. She could have done the same herself if he’d told her but was happy to let him earn his minimum wage.
Given the state of her accounts, the salary of a supermarket worker would be a windfall.
“Here you go. Vegan food. The same brand has an option in the dog roll, too, if you prefer.”
“Thank you.” Hine read the new label with a nod of approval. It included many of the same ingredients on her own shopping list. Back in Australia, where she’d lived with her parents until eighteen months ago, there’d been a story in the news about old folks eating cat food when their pensions ran out.
One glance at the price tag stopped that thought before it could fully eventuate. Not only did Hine dislike the scent of pet food, but the current bag was also more expensive than anything on her human list.
A lot more.
“Is there a smaller size?” Hine glanced at the supermarket worker with a hopeful expression. “I’m only caring for the dog for a few days until the owner gets home.”
He shook his head, wandering back to where he’d been standing with his price gun. “Nah. If you want anything smaller, you’re better off going to a specialty pet store. They can make it up to size.”
The idea was appealing, but it would keep her away from Penelope for another ten or twenty minutes. Considering the dog had just watched on in horror as her owner was kidnapped right in front of her, it would be better not to leave her alone.
Hine held her breath as she pushed her bank card into the automatic checkout machine, but it accepted the charge. With a smile of relief, she ripped off the receipt and was about to screw it up when she thought better of it.
“You can be added to the dame’s invoice,” she whispered to the slip of paper, tucking it into her wallet. “Then she can owe me even more money that she won’t pay.”
The ride home was much shorter than the same drive at rush hour. Even in a township the size of Pinetar, the difference was noticeable.
“Welcome to my humble home,” Hine shouted to Penelope as she threw the front door open. “Get settled and we’ll have a good talk.”
“Oh, no!” Penelope stood at the doorway, not stepping inside the room.
Hine froze at the note of alarm, the shopping bag slipping from her arm as she swivelled. “What is it?”
The dog surveyed the whole room. “You’ve been burgled!”
Chapter Six
“I’m sorry,” Penelope said, her voice gruff. Between the mess on the floor and the gigantic gap on the wall with a mounting bracket where the television should be, a burglary was the obvious conclusion. “Anybody would’ve made the same mistake.”
She perched on the couch in a space Hine had quickly cleared for her. The arm-sweep had deposited a large heap of books and newspapers and clothes and goodness-knows-what on the cushion beside her.
Penelope gulped as Hine sat beside her, making the pile shiver. If it fell, she mightn’t survive.
“Perhaps I’d be better on the floor.” With her paw halfway off the couch, she rethought the idea. A plate with five long strands of spaghetti sticking to a reddish sauce lay right where she would land. Next to it was an open container of yoghurt. Judging from the reek, the contents would soon be powerful enough to walk to the rubbish on their own.
“My place isn’t that untidy,” Hine grumbled.
Although she was used to humans being unable to smell as well as her, it took Penelope aback to discover this one couldn’t see well, either. Much as she’d enjoyed the morning class, the drawbacks to her new companion were multiplying.
“Do you want to talk about what you witnessed, this morning?”
Penelope shrank back on the cushion, tensing as the movement set the pile to teetering. She didn’t want to think about the event at all. It had upset her once already, to recite the horror aloud would force her to live through it all again.
“Maybe after a good sleep…?”
“You wanted to tell the police what you saw. Unless you let me know the story, they’ll never get that information.”
A good point.
“There was a van, it made even more noise than those contraptions usually do. I had my back to it and by the time I registered it was heading straight for us, it was too late. The door slid open, and a strange odour came out in a rush. Like the vehicle had been parked somewhere too hot or somebody who needed the heater on high.”
“You must’ve been scared.”
Hine stroked Penelope’s back while saying the words, and she snuggled closer to her thigh to make it easier. If the dame saw her now, she’d be horrified at the quick transfer of affection, but she needed someone to comfort her. She was too young to deal with this alone.
Penelope gave a small whimper, then continued, “A man grabbed her with one arm and shoved a cloth bag over her hand with the other. While the dame struggled, he hit a fist against the side of her head, then dragged her back into the van.”
She couldn’t continue. As she spoke the words, her shock melted away until it took her close to tears. Penelope sniffed them back, rolling her eyes up to look at the ceiling in the hope gravity would come to the rescue. If she didn’t get through this story in full now, she never would.
“He must’ve hurt her. There’s no way the dame would’ve been silenced so easily otherwise.” She turned wet eyes towards Hine, giving voice to her worst fear. “What if she’s so badly hurt the police won’t find her in time? If she’s—”
Her voice choked up with emotion and she couldn’t get the last few words out. The horror of life ahead, empty of her mistress, left her full of despair.
Hine gave her a cuddle. Her arms were firmer than the dame’s. Younger. Stronger. If this woman had been pulled into the back of a van, she’d have been able to fight back.
The dame though? She could best Penelope in a game of catch but that had a lot more to do with her own rotund figure than the sprightliness of her mistress. Against two men, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
“You said one of the men,” Hine said, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Were there many others?”
“Just the driver.”
“What did he look like?”
Penelope shook her head. “The driver smelled of pine needles.”
“Doesn’t everyone around here?”
“More than usual. He also had nicotine on his hands but not in his hair or clothes.”
The arm against the side of her body stiffened. “How do you know that?”
Penelope stared at Hine, confused. “I smelled it, of course. How else does anyone know anything? The driver hadn’t smoked today, but he usually does. Either that or he’s recently given up. The man in the back was old and his skin was covered in the cream that smells like sheep.”
“Lanolin?”
She nodded, though Penelope wasn’t sure if it was the right word. “His clothes were old and had a funny odour. A bit like mothballs but not quite as pungent.”
