Downward Dog, page 7
part #1 of Dog Yoga Mystery Series
“It’s a good point.” Reginald mopped his brow again before daintily folding away his handkerchief. “If you’re prepared to get me some facts and figures, I can raise it as an issue at our next meeting.”
“Tomorrow?”
To her disappointment, he shook his head. “No, tomorrow’s agenda is already set in stone. New motions can only be introduced at our general meeting. It’ll be next month, but I’m sure your plight will be of interest.”
Next month. Hine might be able to struggle through another four weeks if there was light at the end of the tunnel. “I’ll get you any information you need,” she said, pulling out her phone. “What’s your number?”
Once they’d exchanged information, Hine stood guard while Reginald tried walking again. Since it was just back to his car—the point of his visit now gone—it went without a hitch.
Hine raised a hand to him in her rear-view mirror. He could worry about future generations, she just hoped to have enough petrol to get home.
Penelope waddled into the lounge and stared in shock as the man checked his hair in the hallway mirror, preparing to leave.
“Where are you going?”
He turned on his heel, glaring at her with irritation. “At least wait until I’m out of the house to start your yapping. I told you, no barking. It gives me a headache.”
Before she could try again, the man had walked out the front door, staring at his phone with rapt attention. His gaze was so fixed, he tripped on the loose paving stone near the edge of the drive and Penelope laughed.
She only stopped when she realised now there was no one to refill her bowl.
The dame had never left the house without stopping to give Penelope a nice pat. She would always comment about how good a dog she was and how she wouldn’t be too long.
Now, her mistress been away for longer than ever before and showed no signs of returning.
With the late afternoon light shining in through the window at low angles, Penelope slumped on the floor and watched the dust motes dancing in the draught from the back door.
The house was too quiet.
When she’d been left on her own before, Penelope had always treated it as an adventure. She seldom had the chance to do whatever she wanted. From the moment she woke in the morning until she fell asleep at night, the dame regimented every part of their day.
Penelope wished her mistress was standing near her now, reciting exactly what they’d be doing that evening.
Watching television was her favourite thing, apart from eating. She also enjoyed exercising on a long walk along the path or road. The very best part of walking was when she arrived home after a long exploration and collapsed on the sofa with an entire evening of keeping the dame company to look forward to.
Now, with all the options in the world beckoning, Penelope didn’t know what to do.
She turned on the television with the remote but no matter how many times she leaned on the buttons, their favourite program didn’t show up. The one with the hospital and the staff, all going through extremes of drama.
While they watched, her mistress would groan or laugh or sometimes shake her head. “Thank goodness we don’t live a life like that,” she’d tell Penelope, and, “Goodness, this is dreadful.” Still, she kept her full attention on the screen for every minute of the broadcast.
Penelope didn’t really care what pictures were showing. What she liked was the way the dame would curl close to her side. The idle pats were what she enjoyed, along with occasional hugs when things got too exciting.
When she accidentally pressed the button that turned the screen off, Penelope didn’t bother to turn it back on.
Eat. She’d like to eat. With the man gone, it would be difficult to get her food into the right state, but it was worth a try.
That was the only thing she didn’t like about the dame lately. How she’d cut back on Penelope’s portions just because the vet pointed to the wrong picture on the chart.
Tipping the bag over was the easy part—some kibble even made it into the bowl. But the water? Impossible. Penelope couldn’t get the bowl up to sink level. She couldn’t even get herself up onto the bench in order to push the kettle down.
The idea of putting it into the bath appealed for a second. But there was no way on God’s green earth she’d be able to lift the bowl into the tub without spilling her food everywhere.
Speaking of food everywhere, Penelope nosed at some pieces of food that had escaped the bowl. If the dame did such a thing, she’d easily scoop it up in her hands and throw it in the rubbish bin.
She nosed some closer to the bowl. There was no reason to throw it out just because it had touched the floor—that was madness. After a second, Penelope sat back on her haunches, staring at the hard pellets, her face creased in thought.
Could she eat straight off the floor?
But that didn’t solve the problem of wetting down the food. Silly dog. If the dame had heard her express that thought, she’d shake her head.
Penelope pressed her tongue against one of the stray pieces of kibble. It stuck. She moved it to the bowl and waggled her head, but it wouldn’t shake off.
Second plan also a failure.
She scraped the piece of food off her tongue with the back of her teeth, then idly crunched it while she stared at the mess all around her. Not bad. To aid her thinking, she licked another few pellets into her mouth.
Not bad at all.
With a leap of excitement, Penelope realised the kibble tasted far better without water. It had crunch. It had taste. Its texture went from dry and hard to soft and chewy the longer it stayed in her mouth.
Why hadn’t the dame ever served her food up dry? This was madness. Surely her mistress knew it tasted better this way. The dame knew everything.
As Penelope continued to eat, revelling in the snap of each bite, another thought occurred to her. Without the need for water, the man was now surplus to her requirements. If he tried to come back inside the house, she’d growl and bark and yelp and maybe even bite to stop him.
In a rush of giddiness, Penelope ran in circles, chasing her stubby tail and barking in joy.
Food was better. The man wasn’t needed.
Suddenly the prospect of the dame staying away for a while longer didn’t seem as scary.
Having finished her dinner, and her after-dinner dinner, and her supper, and her after-supper supper, Penelope was just considering whether she could fit in another light snack before retiring for the night when the strange man walked up the drive.
She was on her feet and barking with all the energy half a week’s worth of dog food afforded her. Penelope had never been a lightweight when it came to self-expression and she took the opportunity to showcase her formidable skills.
“Get out. You’re not wanted here. I don’t believe you have any connection to my mistress because I’ve never smelled you before. You’re a liar and I don’t know what your game is, but I’ll tell you right now, I’m not letting you inside.”
Unfortunately, it seemed the man had spent some of his time earlier searching for another way into the house aside from a broken window. A key slid into the lock, his low growl of anger no match for Penelope’s sudden fury.
“How dare you steal keys from my mistress! When she gets back here, she’ll tan your hide, if there’s anything left after I’ve taken my turn.”
The stranger walked into the hallway, flexing his muscles.
“You’re not a relative of the dame. I’ve met one of her cousins before and you smell nothing like him. You’re a fraud. Get out. Get out. GET OUT!!!”
Penelope yelped as he lunged and grabbed her around the middle. Her legs were off the floor before she could think to attack him back. She swivelled her head around, teeth bared, trying to find a portion of exposed flesh to latch onto.
“I told you not to bark. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The man strode through the house, easily keeping his limbs clear of Penelope’s jaws. When he stopped by the connecting door through to the garage, her chance came. His weight shifted and his arm turned as he turned the handle.
Penelope sunk her teeth into his forearm, relishing the first gush of blood.
“Ow. Get in there, you little monster!”
She catapulted through the air, landing on her side and scrabbling quickly to her feet. Not quickly enough.
The door slammed in Penelope’s face and she howled, ready to snap at the air in lieu of biting the horrible man again. When she heard him walk away and turn on the television, she doubled down on her efforts.
“You come back here and let me out right now, or when my mistress returns, she’ll see you in jail. You horrible man. LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW!!!”
Instead, the volume on the TV set went up a few notches.
Sitting back on her haunches, Penelope stared around the garage. There was no handy dog door set into this room. No doors left half off the latch. The only windows were high-set, just a few inches from top to bottom. They let in some dim light but even as a puppy, she wouldn’t have been able to squeeze through the narrow gap.
She was trapped.
Chapter Twelve
Hine woke with a start when her mobile phone rang. As her hand fumbled for it on the nightstand her mind tried to put together what had happened.
She’d come home with grand intentions on cleaning up as best she could. After taking a few painkillers, that had turned into a short trip to the bedroom. She’d remember to keep her ankle elevated, but that was as far as her good deeds went.
“Hello. Who ‘dis?”
A snigger greeted her sleepy answer. “It’s Wilber, here. The ransom demand has come through.”
The lingering tiredness fled Hine’s mind as if she’d been slapped. “Who? Where? How much?”
“Come on over and we’ll tell you all of that. Oh, just a moment.”
He must have held his palm over the microphone because the background speech turned into a mumble. Hine poked at her injured ankle while she waited, pleased to find the swelling had mostly gone. The bruising was another story.
“Madeline says we’ll meet you at an office in town. It’ll be easier to get to any drop sites from there, and less chance of the police stopping by unexpectedly.”
“Where in town? I don’t have any petrol in my tank.” Hine stared down at her ankle again. “And I can’t walk.”
He gave another snigger. Hine was pleased someone got joy out of her worsening situation.
“Madeline says she’ll pick you up. What’s your address?”
“Wait. Tonight?” Her voice squeaked into the upper registers.
“The sooner the better, I reckon.”
“But…” she trailed off, trying to think of an argument but none came.
“You’re still willing to help, aren’t you?”
“Of course.” Hine rubbed at the side of her jaw, feeling the muscles there tightening. If she didn’t relax soon, there’d be a migraine on its way. “You can count on me. I’ll see you soon.”
She gave her address and ended the call, staring blankly into space. Only when a morepork hooted outside did she shake herself and start getting ready.
Problem one. What did one wear to a ransom hand-off?
Problem two. Were any of her suitable clothes on the right side of the washing machine?
The knock at the door came as Hine stuffed two loads worth of laundry into her poor, underutilised washer. She lumped in half a plastic shovel of powder and put it on to a cold wash.
“Coming,” she yelled out, limping across to the front door. She registered the expression of concern that passed over Madeline’s face. “And before you ask, I haven’t been burgled.”
“Are you ready to go?” The negotiator hovered on the threshold. “We’re running out of time to get you up to speed.”
Hine stuck her head out the door and frowned. “Who’s we? Where’s Wilber.” She bit down on a giggle at the way that sounded. She’d played a very similar sounding game many times as a child.
“Wilber is back at the house, awaiting further instructions from the kidnappers.”
“What sort of instructions?”
Madeline sighed. “They need to give us more specifics about where to make the drop. We only have the amount and how they want it to be presented.” As Hine opened her mouth to ask another question, she held up her hand. “Save it for the office. Are you in?”
“I’m ready if you’re sure you want me to be involved.”
As they drove into town, Hine asked, “Will I be compensated for taking part in this… Escapade?”
“Usually, people do it because they want their loved one returned.”
“But… She’s not a loved one. Not really.” Not unless debtors counted. “And it’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“I’m here to assess the situation and work out the risks. It’s my job and I’m very good at it. There’s no way I’d let you walk into a drop if I thought you wouldn’t walk back out again.”
“I suppose that’s reassuring.”
“They asked for the full amount we’ve got Tilly insured for.”
“Tilly?” As soon as the question was out of her mouth, Hine blushed. It was obvious who she was referring to. “See? I don’t even know her first name.”
“If we paid money to you, we’d have to take it from the ransom. The kidnappers need to trust us before they’ll release your friend. If we short them on the amount, that’s not going to happen.”
Hine crossed her arms and let her head fall back against the seat. The car drove over a pothole, jerking her sore ankle. “Ow.”
“Nearly there.”
“It’s not like the kidnappers are going to count the money on the spot.” If Hine didn’t try her hardest to get paid now, it would keep her awake for hours later. “You could shuffle a few notes off the top. I’m not asking for half or anything.”
Madeline stamped on the brakes and Hine flew forward, her ankle bumping hard against the floor. The negotiator turned and stared with an intensity that made Hine nervous.
“If I don’t pay you, will you still take the money to the rendezvous point, considering it’s our only hope of getting Tilly Cholmondeley back alive?”
“Of course.” Hine straightened her back, indignant. “I wouldn’t risk her life.”
“Then stop asking for money.” Madeline faced front, starting the car again. “You can use it as a stamp on your good deeds card.”
“Yeah. What’s that good for?”
“Every dozen stamps the universe shouts you a free coffee.” Madeline pulled to the side of the road, easing the vehicle to a stop this time. “We’re here. It’s the office in behind the realtors.”
Hine struggled to keep pace with Madeline. Her limp lurched her from side to side like a drunken sailor. When she could sit again, in a nice chair on wheels, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“What do we do now?” she asked, leaning forward to try to read the writing on the blotter. Even upside-down, it was obvious the words belonged to a previous tenant. Hine couldn’t imagine Madeline worrying about daycare costs.
“Now, I take you through the scenario and we talk out what to do in all eventualities.” She opened a safe at the side of the room and began to load a plain black briefcase full of stacks of cash.
Hine gulped as the money just kept on coming. Enough to keep her business solvent for a year, then two, then enough to do that and buy her a house, mortgage-free. “Is it safe for me to carry that around?”
“No. It’s not safe.” Madeline clicked the briefcase closed. “But it’s better than doing nothing. If everything goes well, in a few hours we should have Tilly safely back at home and the kidnappers in jail.”
“How will you catch them?”
The negotiator sat in a chair opposite, tapping her fingers together like an old-timey Bond villain. “Kidnappers always think they’re the smartest people in any negotiation. It leads them to make mistakes. The more they try to second-guess or outsmart their opponent, the more errors they make.”
“How have you caught them in the past?”
Madeline shrugged. “Where they’ll want to meet us will be a key factor. It will tell me if they’re familiar with the area, or strangers. Another piece will be how they arrange to get Tilly back to us and her condition when she is safely back home.”
“What happens if they don’t release her?”
“They need to instruct us on how to collect her before we make the drop. Don’t let go of the money until we have some sign of where to go.”
As Hine’s eyes widened, Madeline held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll give you an earpiece and talk you through that scenario if we need to. Your only priorities are to pass the cash over and get yourself out of there without a scratch.”
The phone on the desk rang, loud in the quiet night. While Madeline talked, Hine stole quick glances at the briefcase. How could something so life-changing appear so normal? She reached out a finger and prodded the side. No different from the briefcase that her first employer had used to transport his lunch.
“Right.” Madeline clapped her hands together. “We have a location and a time. We have twenty minutes to get out the back of Stoneybrook Acres Retirement home.”
“But…” Hine felt lost as the other woman rose and grabbed the case. “What about strategies and… And… Things?”
“Strategy one, be on time.” Madeline held the office door open so Hine could limp through. “We’ll sort out the rest after we make sure that happens.”
As they parked outside the home, Hine’s heart thumped faster. “I’m not sure I can do this,” she said, every scenario she imagined ending with her head blown off and the dame lying dead.
“Nothing to it. You’re just going for a short walk with a briefcase. You can do that, can’t you?”
Hine nodded. Her throat was dry, and she struggled to swallow. This was how she’d been before every ‘adventure’ her parents took her on as a child. Pulse racing, mouth dry, stomach clenched until it hurt.
