Downward Dog, page 5
part #1 of Dog Yoga Mystery Series
The man whistled a tune, and Penelope’s ears perked up. She liked a good whistle. He didn’t seem to know how to form commands with it—stay, heel, run, fetch—but it was a jaunty wee melody. Anybody who knew how to whistle was surely a good boy!
“Hello? Who’ve we got here, then?”
He bent down as Penelope emerged, giving her a pat on the top of her head.
“Would you like a piece of fish?”
“Would I? You bet I would,” she called out and leapt up to grab it out of his hand.
The man laughed and pulled another piece out of his magic folded paper bag. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”
“I’m a girl but I sure am. And I’m starving,” Penelope explained as she quickly finished off the second morsel. She nosed toward the bag, but he lifted it into the air.
“Wait a minute. You can’t have all of it.”
She felt downcast, lying on the path at his feet, her eyes sad and her chin dropping down to rest on her feet.
Once again, the man laughed. The sound was a fitting accompaniment to the birdsong from the nearby forest. “If you do a trick, I’ll let you have another piece,” he said. “Roll over.”
Penelope obediently followed his comment, then gulped down the reward that followed. A few more tricks, sit, stand, beg, play dead, and he shook out the paper wrapper. Apart from the large grease stains with a few grains of salt clinging, it was empty. All the lunch gone.
Still, it had given her enough energy to attack the remaining walk. Penelope led the way as the man ambled along the path. Soon, she’d be home and able to get her own food. Although she wouldn’t usually dare to pull the bag out of the pantry and help herself, desperate times called for desperate measures.
When she walked around the last bend in the park, Penelope was so grateful to be home she broke into a run. Without stopping, she pounded through the doggie door in the outside gate and trotted up to the front door.
I can smell my mistress everywhere. Is she home?
With a joyous heart, Penelope carefully walked through the dog flap and looked around expectantly. When nobody called out, she sniffed the air, then ran to the kitchen.
It was just the same scent from that morning. Not her mistress returning home at all, just the lingering remnant of her smell.
Penelope gave a howl and lowered her chin to the floor. Her owner was her world. What would she do without her?
The sound of breaking glass straightened her back. Penelope turned, alert, nose in the air.
The man from the path, the one with the fish and chips, walked into the kitchen from the back door. He brushed himself down, then gave a start when he spotted Penelope in front of him, standing guard.
“Well, now. Isn’t that a funny coincidence? We were both heading for the same house.”
Although her ears were still cocked, Penelope tipped her head to one side, eyeing the intruder from a different angle. It made no sense for him to be in the house but he’d given her food so she felt torn.
“You’re not going to get in a bad mood with me now, are you?” The man bent and clicked his fingers. “Come on over and let me give you another pat. You’re a good dog, aren’t you?”
He had her on that score. Penelope was a very good dog indeed.
She trotted up to him and as he stroked her short fur, her tail started wagging. “Are you a friend of the dame?” she asked, looking up at him for a reply.
“What’s that? You want me to stay? Well, if you’re sure about that, I will.”
Penelope took a short step back. “I didn’t say that. I asked you if—”
He captured her nose in his hand, holding her mouth closed, trapping the last of her sentence inside. “Now, then. You don’t need to bark as loudly as that, do you? I’m a man who likes things quiet.”
She snuffled and tried to shake her head free of his grasp, but the man held her firm. Penelope began to panic as his palm closed off half her nostril as well. She didn’t breathe too well through her nose. She had to open her mouth.
“If I let you go, will you be quiet?” the man asked.
Well, I can’t answer you with my mouth clamped shut!
He let her go without a response and Penelope backed away, so happy to breathe she forgot to tell him off. With each refreshing gulp of air, her memory of the incident faded. After a few minutes, she couldn’t recall exactly what had happened.
Penelope still remembered the pieces of fish though. The taste of them lingered on her tongue.
She wagged her tail in anticipation as she walked over to the pantry. With a few swipes of her paw, she got the doors to part, then she shoved them open further with her shoulder.
There! Her dog food. With all the happy pictures of dogs on the side and the good taste inside.
With one lunge, she grabbed the top of the bag in her jaws and dragged it backwards. It was at least a month’s supply, so the weight gave her a decent battle, but Penelope won in the end.
“Eating again?” The man strode into the kitchen and stared at her with his hands on his hips. “No wonder you’re a pudgy thing.”
Penelope let go of her food. “I’m not. I’m hefty. And I didn’t have any breakfast.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He held up his hands. “No need to bark the place down. I thought you were going to be quiet?”
She stood still, the feel of him touching her nose bumping up in her memory like a noxious bubble. Still offended, Penelope settled for glaring at him instead.
“You got a bowl or something? I’m sure your owner doesn’t let you eat out of a bag.” The man pulled open the cupboards and drawers, giving a low whistle when he saw the collection of silver cutlery. “That’ll be worth a heap, even melted down. I guess your lady was rich, huh?”
Penelope took a step back, not wanting to leave her food alone with him but not wishing to stay near him either. She took back her earlier judgement about whistling. Apparently, bad men could also carry a tune.
“Here we go. A nice big dog bowl.” He put it on the floor and dragged the kibble closer. “Says here, it’s better when wet. Is that how you like it? Eh, boy?” He grabbed a glass from an overhead cupboard and filled it with warm water.
“Not too much,” Penelope said, then shut her mouth when he shot her a warning glance.
He put in a bit less than the dame would, as though intuitively knowing exactly what she’d said. She nosed forward, giving an appreciative sniff before launching into the absorbing task of eating.
“Yeah, you’re a good dog.” The man moved out of the kitchen, standing near the front door and holding back a curtain to look out at the path. “I bet you don’t have many people dropping by out here, either.”
Penelope knew enough not to answer. She just flicked an ear, chewing as she stared at him, then got stuck back into the bowl.
Food had never tasted so good. All the worries from this morning fell away with every chew. Her stomach gave a roar of approval as the first mouthfuls hit it. This was better than the dried vegetables Hine had tried to force upon her. Better even than the salty battered fish doled out on the path.
“Oh, cripes.” The man let the curtain drop and moved away from the front door. “Looks like the cavalry’s arrived. Don’t tell on me, okay?”
He held a finger up to his mouth, then moved to the back door, sweeping the broken glass into a pile and chucking a throw rug over top to hide it.
“As far as you’re concerned, I’m the dame’s cousin, okay?”
He winked at Penelope and she frowned. The man couldn’t really hear her, not like Hine. He was closer to the dame, responding to her barks as though she spoke a completely different language.
A knock sounded on the door, then the doorbell rang out. Penelope tilted her head, wanting to rush over and see if her mistress was back, but not smelling enough to encourage her past the strange man.
“Hello there, officer.”
Penelope took a few steps from her bowl, recognising the constable from outside the yoga studio. He’d said something worrisome. What was it? Something about taking her to the pound.
“I’m sorry. We weren’t expecting anyone to be here. Otherwise, we’d have called around earlier.”
“Don’t worry, I only just arrived today. Barely had time to catch up with my cousin, then she had to go out. Is she hurt? Is she why you’re here?”
With a small whine, Penelope backed away from the false note of concern in the man’s voice. It hurt her ears. She wanted to run past him, tackle the officer, and tell him the stranger shouldn’t be there. She wanted…
Mm. The bowl of food smelled so nice. Until the dame got back, it wouldn’t do any harm to have this man stay and look after her. His hand on her face hadn’t been nice but if she kept quiet, he shouldn’t do that again.
The officer was talking again, explaining what had happened. He took down a few details but didn’t have the odour of suspicion about him.
When he’d mentioned the pound, earlier, Hine had come close to yelling at him. She’d been disgusted at the idea.
If someone who lived in such a hovel could be disgusted by the pound, then Penelope had no wish to experience it for herself. She backed out of sight behind the counter, then got started on her bowl of food again.
No harm in letting this man stay and help for a few days. When the dame got back, she’d send him packing.
Until then, Penelope would stay out of his way. Except for food. As she found another piece of kibble softened to exactly the right degree, her eyes half-closed in ecstasy.
Yes.
He’d do very well until the dame returned.
Chapter Nine
Hine checked the house a second time, then a third. Just to be sure. It was hard to be certain Penelope had gone with so many piles of clothing she could be hiding under. Hard when Hine couldn’t tell which cupboards and wardrobes she’d already looked in because none of their doors closed.
She started to clean up instead but stopped after ten minutes. This was a waste of time. Penelope had gone and Hine needed to go find her, not stay here and try to make her house tidy. With the dog gone, there was no one else living there who cared.
The morning’s newspaper sat on the kitchen table where she’d abandoned it when she stopped reading. Remembering her promise to the oldest engaged woman in Pinetar, Hine scooped it and shuffled the loose pages back into some semblance of normality.
Another article on the front page caught her eye. A reformed criminal was planning to give a speech in town at the end of the week. Once a bank robber, the lady had moved into security consulting when she’d served out her time.
“I should’ve tried that,” Hine muttered, folding the paper so she didn’t have to look at the smug woman’s face. “Consultant for not-letting-scummy-parents-burgle-your-house-with-their-weird-daughter.”
It didn’t seem like a project there’d be any money in, but Hine was good at picking those.
She put the paper in the back seat, then jumped in the front. With no evidence that Penelope had been stolen, there was only one place she was likely to be.
Her home.
Hine drove as close to the property as she could, choosing to park her car around the back and walk up that long path, rather than pull into the front driveway. If there were police around, she didn’t want to draw their attention. All she needed was to see Penelope was there, being taken care of, then she could go back to her normal day.
Not that sitting at home, wondering about the money she was losing through not doing classes was normal.
She walked around the side of the house, peering in each window to try to spot Penelope. The place was far bigger than Hine had expected, with far too many places a dog could be hiding. As she drew closer to the front, she heard voices and paused, hesitant to venture further until she knew who was talking.
“You’re sure you don’t mind us putting the device on the phone? It’ll record every call that comes through here.”
With careful steps, Hine edged to the corner and peeked around. It was the well-built officer from that morning at the doorway. He had a device in one hand, and a man standing by in a van.
Hine had no idea who in the house he was talking to. She’d never seen the dame with anyone to suggest she lived with family or friends.
“No skin off my nose,” the stranger said. “Anyone trying to get hold of me is going to use my cell phone. Have at it.”
“Do you visit with your cousin often?” PC Perry asked as he disappeared through the door. He must have signalled to the man waiting outside because he hopped down from the front seat and ambled up the path. He wore the standard uniform of a tradesman—a worn T-shirt in a shade that might once have been khaki and faded jeans, ripped from use rather than style.
She didn’t catch the answer to the officer’s question as the tradesman closed the door behind him. With a police officer inside the house, Hine didn’t want to knock at the door to ask about Penelope. Nor did she want to leave without ascertaining the bulldog was safe.
Back around the house, Hine tested a set of French doors. Locked. She tiptoed past an enclosed rose garden, testing the gate. Padlocked. The windows overlooking the patch of beauty were open but apart from a flapping net curtain, she couldn’t see anything inside.
You’re not breaking the law. Just knock on the front door and ask if the dog made it back okay. There’s no harm in it.
But there would be harm. The house mightn’t be a crime scene yet but it would soon become that if the kidnappers called through a ransom demand. Hine had kept her head down since arriving in Pinetar. She didn’t want a close encounter with the police to lead to gossip and not being able to hold her head up in town.
Drama queen.
Hine nodded at the thought, smiling. If she was, the trait had come straight from her mother. Blame genetics.
A pile of old beer crates was stacked against the side of the house, past the roses. Hine tilted her head, considering how much height they’d give her. She could boost herself up, have a nosey in the room, then drop back down, all without anyone knowing she’d even been there.
Scared to give herself too much time to think about it, in case she over thought the rudimentary plan out of existence, Hine clambered onto the stack. She had one arm on the windowsill, peering inside a small bedroom when Penelope trotted past the door.
“Hey, girl. How’re you doing?”
The bulldog gave such a start, Hine stepped back. Her foot slid, the stacks toppled, and she was left clinging onto the windowsill with her forearms, legs dangling.
The noise of the crates toppling drew footsteps. While Hine was trying to decide whether to continue clinging or drop down, hoping she didn’t break something in the fall, PC Perry reached the doorway.
For a second, their eyes locked. Then gravity caught hold of Hine and she fell, her ankle awkwardly landing on the side of a broken slat. As the pain hit, she gave a wounded cry.
The policeman stared at her out the window, radio in hand to call for backup.
“I’m sorry, okay,” Hine apologised for the dozenth time, pressing the bag of frozen vegetables to her swelling ankle. “It was obvious you were busy with important police stuff and I just wanted to see if Penelope had come home okay.”
“Didn’t you think to call?” PC Perry grabbed her hand and the bag beneath it, raising it up to get a better look at her sprain. “It’s what most people would do.”
“I didn’t know anyone would be here,” Hine said, then shrugged. “And I didn’t think of it. I don’t think I’ve even got Dame Cholmondeley’s number.”
“That’s what the white pages are for.”
Hine snorted with laughter. “Yeah. I religiously update my copy of the telephone book every year.”
Constable Perry shook his head. “Heard of the internet? A relatively new invention but it sure does come in handy.”
“I said, I’m sorry. Besides, if you’re expecting a ransom call, it’s just as well I kept the line free.”
“It’s going to bruise,” the officer said, ignoring her. “You’ll need to see a doctor and check out if you need a moon boot.”
Hine turned pale at the thought, jerking away from his gentle hand despite the resulting jolt of pain. “I’ll be fine. Sprains always look worse than they are.”
To turn up to her yoga classes sporting a medical boot, advertising her injury, was unthinkable. A lot of her attendees—even the regulars—weren’t quite at the level of trust required to make them overlook such a thing.
“If my clientele sees how clumsy I am, I might as well shut up shop and move away,” she grumbled.
“Surely you can make up some fantastical circumstance to explain it? Where’s the creativity of youth when you need it?”
Hine scrunched her nose up, enjoying the man’s presence far more than she wanted to let on. “My clients don’t pay me to be creative, they expect me to be limber and show them how to get that way, too.”
“Well, if you don’t get yourself checked out, it might be worse than a moon boot. I don’t fancy your chances of teaching yoga from a wheelchair.”
PC Perry smiled at her and Hine forgot for the moment she was in pain. Although she’d seen the man around town ever since she first moved here, she couldn’t remember noticing before how blue his eyes were, or how perfect his teeth.
“Hm-hm.” The dame’s cousin stepped forward. “Sorry to interrupt”—he waved his arm at the two of them—“whatever this is but if you’re finished, I’d quite like to get back to my own plans for the day.”
“Of course.” Office Perry stood up so fast his knees cracked. “I’ll check on the technician and see how he’s coming along.”
“Are you going to be all right, driving home like that?”
Hine mustered a smile. “I’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt too much.”
Penelope edged into the room, her eyes downcast. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
With a pat on the cushion, Hine invited the dog to jump up next to her. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay. If you’d like to come back home with me, you’re welcome. Or…”
