A Dog with Two Tales (A Bought-the-Farm Mystery Book 0) Read online

  A Dog With Two Tales

  Ellen Riggs

  A Dog With Two Tales

  Copyright © 2020 Ellen Riggs

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-989303-47-4 eBook

  ISBN 978-1-989303-46-7 Book

  ASIN B085BQT5LH Kindle

  ASIN TBD Paperback

  Publisher: Ellen Riggs

  www.ellenriggs.com

  Cover designer: Lou Harper

  Editor: Serena Clarke

  2003301000

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter One

  I was running full-tilt down an alley behind a derelict warehouse when my phone rang. Why hadn’t I ditched it before I fled? Ignoring a call was hard for me. It felt unprofessional. That said, I’d just left an executive meeting without a word of explanation, which was the epitome of unprofessionalism. No wonder people were calling. They probably thought I was desperately ill, not sprinting away from the office like an athlete. A clumsy athlete, mind you. One who clearly spent her days in a suit behind a desk. But I was making good time, all things considered.

  Fumbling in my pocket for the phone, I managed to check the number and then punch the right button, all without slowing down. “Hey Jilly,” I said, puffing hard.

  “Where are you?” she said. “And what the heck are you doing? Did you take up CrossFit without telling me?”

  “Just out for a little jog.” I slowed slightly so I could hear her better. “What’s up?”

  “Keri Browning said you left an important meeting and then vanished without a trace. She thought it must be personal so she reached out to me.”

  I finally dropped to a fast walk. “So I can’t even have a panic attack without it becoming a federal emergency?”

  There was a pause at the other end. “A panic attack? Nothing flusters you, Ivy Galloway. It’s your superpower.”

  “Not anymore, apparently.” I looked around, struck by the dinginess of the neighborhood. Eight years ago, I’d bought a condo nearby to be close to corporate headquarters. I’d expected the neighborhood to transition, but it hadn’t changed much. I never took the back route because it didn’t feel safe.

  “Tell me what happened.” Jilly’s tone was soothing, as if talking someone off a ledge. I suppose that’s exactly what she was doing.

  “Wilf announced a major global downsizing,” I said.

  “Okay, well that’s bad news, but you’ll never be downsized. How often has Wilf said you’d be the last one standing if the company folded? You’d still be packaging people out. That’s the upside of being in human resources.”

  “I’m not afraid of losing my job, Jilly,” I said, as my legs started pumping again. “I’m afraid of doing my job.”

  She paused to take that in. “Right. Someone’s got to do the actual downsizing and I guess that’s you.”

  “Who else but the grim reaper?” I asked. “Three years ago I crisscrossed the country firing people and destroying their lives. Now I have to do it again on a global scale.”

  “That nickname is so inappropriate. You should have lodged a complaint against Wilf.”

  “With whom? I’m the senior HR manager.”

  “Ivy, can you just stand still for a minute and listen to me?”

  “If I stop moving, I’ll die. That’s how it is with sharks like me. Wilf said so. He meant it as a compliment.”

  “Stop. Right now.”

  She’d never used that tone with me before. Jilly Blackwood was a diplomat, all smooth edges and a voice like honey.

  “Stopping,” I said.

  “You’re not. I can still hear your footsteps.”

  “You wouldn’t stop either if you were where I am,” I said, but I stopped anyway.

  “We’ll get to that in a minute. First I want to ask you a different question.” She waited until my breath evened out and then said, “What do I do for a living, Ivy?”

  “You’re a headhunter. Best in all of Boston.”

  “Which means I can get you out of the Flordale Corporation instantly if that’s you want. You don’t need to spend the next year firing people.” There was a rustle at her end and I could tell she was getting her things together. “Why didn’t you tell me you were miserable before?”

  “The water got hot so gradually I only realized today I was about to boil to death.”

  “No one’s dying. Just relax. And now you can tell me where you are, because I’m coming to meet you.”

  “I’m in an alley about a mile from the office. Hyperventilating.”

  “Look around and tell me what you see.”

  I recognized the strategy for calming panic attacks, and although the worst was starting to subside, I played along. “I see a row of tall sunflowers against a garage.”

  “Sunflowers?” Now I could hear the click of her shoes on the tile in her office hallway. “That’s unusual for an alley.”

  “They’re in someone’s backyard. It’s kind of grubby and stinks to high heaven. There’s a lot of dirt with some patches of grass and— Oh! There’s a black and white dog.”

  “With the sunflowers?”

  “Yeah. Poor thing is chained to a tree. Looks like a sad little heap in the grass.” I leaned over the chain-link fence. “Hey puppers. How ya doing?”

  The dog lifted his head and his long muzzle and pointy ears swivelled toward me.

  “What breed is he?” There were street noises at Jilly’s end now. She was ready for takeoff.

  “Border collie. He has one blue eye and one brown. I can see that from here, but he won’t come over. He seems… depressed.”

  I reached into the yard and offered my hand. The pup finally stood up and I gasped. “Oh Jilly, he’s so skinny. And there are bare patches in his fur. This dog’s been neglected.”

  “Ivy, don’t do anything crazy, okay?”

  “When do I ever do anything crazy? I’m the opposite of crazy.”

  “I know you are.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. Jilly was my best friend—my only friend, actually—and we’d known each other since college. When I’d joined Flordale, she said it was like I’d taken vows of propriety. It was true that as an HR rep, I always felt pressured to set a great example. Most of the time I avoided the limelight and kept my lips sealed. I was always sensible.

  Until today. Today I’d cracked. And once that started, it was hard to stop.

  The dog came toward me, dragging a long, heavy chain. He looked young, less than a year old, and had never filled out. Tears filled my eyes as I saw patches of bare skin covered in scratches. The white areas of fur were grimy.

  “Jilly, promise me you won’t try to talk me out of helping this dog,” I said. “I’m not leaving him to suffer.”

  “I promise. Just tell me where you are. The cab’s getting close now.”

  Jilly c
ould always get a cab, anytime, anywhere. It was one of her superpowers, along with the ability to charm everyone, male or female, old and young.

  I gave her the directions and sank to the ground outside the yard. The earth was damp from all the rain we’d had recently. “Just think… If you hadn’t ordered me to stop right here I never would have seen him. This is like a mission from dog.”

  She laughed as the door slammed. “We do missions now?”

  “It’s against type for a grim reaper, I’ll admit.” I stuck my fingers through the fence and the pup inspected them. “But that’s not who I am anymore. Starting today.”

  “What exactly do you want to do, starting today?”

  “I want to rescue this dog, and then maybe move home.”

  “Home! To Clover Grove?” There was an edge of panic in Jilly’s voice for the first time. “Ivy, what’s really going on? You said nothing could take you back to that hick town.”

  “That may have been hyperbole.” I crossed my legs and settled in. “And this is a weak moment. A weak day. Daisy called this morning.”

  “Ah. Things are making more sense now. Your sister laid a guilt trip on you?”

  “Not Daisy, but I could feel Mom pulling the strings behind her. I haven’t been home in years.”

  “And now you’re facing the prospect of global travel so home has more appeal.”

  The pup finally touched my fingertips with his cold, wet nose. I felt a little shock, followed by an odd sense of calm. There was something special about this dog. I just knew it.

  “I don’t believe in Flordale anymore,” I said.

  When I was recruited out of college 10 years ago, Flordale had been a small specialty food company. The mom and pop operation had long since disappeared in mergers and acquisitions, and with each stage of growth some of the “human” in human resources slipped away. Jilly had tried to lure me into her company many times, but a misplaced sense of loyalty trapped me there. I kept hoping things would change.

  “I agree it’s time to go, but you need a solid exit strategy,” she said. “At your level, it’s all about reliability and integrity. You don’t want to look—”

  “Erratic? Crazy?”

  “You know about the importance of reputation. Of appearances.”

  I pressed my face against the wire and the pup licked my nose. “Wilf wouldn’t hesitate to sabotage me despite all I’ve given to the company.”

  “How about we find you a rebound job, just until the real thing comes along? We’ll build in some time for you to visit Clover Grove before you start. What do you think?”

  “First I rescue the dog and then I beat it out of Boston. You coming?”

  “To Clover Grove? Never. What’s a headhunter going to do in hick town?”

  “Start a café. We both know your secret passion is cooking and the last time I was there it was hard to get a decent meal.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” she said. “And what’s your secret passion?”

  “I’m looking at him now. This dog has the most intelligent eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  I dug around in my purse and found some beef jerky and crackers I kept on hand for the many nights I worked late. As I offered small bits to the starving dog, he stood on his hind legs and did a perfect pirouette of little hops. Then he solemnly offered a paw, which I poked my fingers through to accept. His honey-brown eye seemed to pour warmth into my cold heart, while his blue eye looked deep into my soul, or what was left of it.

  “What’s going on?” Jilly asked. “You’re awfully quiet.”

  “I’ve never known a dog like this and I grew up around lots of them. I’ve always wanted a pup but I guess I was waiting for the right one to come along.”

  “One that belongs to someone else.”

  “He doesn’t belong here. He’s neglected. Dirty. Scrawny. And yet he was obviously loved at one time. By his breeder, I bet.”

  “What’s that noise?” she asked.

  “He’s talking to me. He makes these odd mumbling sounds.”

  “Don’t tell me you understand him.”

  “Not yet. For the moment all I know is that he’s grateful and he wants me to take care of him.”

  There was a long, low sigh at the other end. “Oh, Ivy. Don’t get too attached, okay?”

  Her words triggered a cascade of sorrow in my heart. “That’s what my mom used to say before she confiscated a pet. With six kids, we could never afford extra mouths to feed. The animals only stayed long enough for us to fall in love and then she got rid of them.”

  “Let’s not talk about your mom, right now,” Jilly said. “Anyway, I’m going to hang up and call you back in a minute, okay?”

  “Sure.” I pressed end and reached into my bag for a bottle of water. Pouring a little into my cupped fingers, I let the dog drink.

  “You know what, little buddy? We were destined to meet today and change each other’s lives.”

  He offered another mumbled monologue that sounded like agreement.

  “You’re a regular poet. I can tell you’re asking me to bust you out of here, and I’m going to find a way.” The pup whined and I continued, “It looks bleak, but keep the faith. They don’t call me the grim reaper because I give up easily.”

  We both looked up at the sound of steady clicks on pavement. Jilly was coming toward me looking as out of place as the sunflowers in the alley. She was a petite, natural beauty with blonde hair and a smile as warm as this early summer day.

  “Ivy, get up,” she said, offering her hand. “Your suit is covered in mud.”

  “I’ll throw it out with all the rest of my suits. I don’t need them anymore.”

  The pup had curled up against the fence, letting me scratch his ears. Every so often he turned to lick my fingers.

  “How about we go and buy this little guy some kibble, while we make a plan?”

  “I’ve got a plan. I’m climbing this fence and taking him. End of story.”

  A door slammed and we both jumped. An old red car had pulled into the driveway and a man was standing at the gate to the yard. He wasn’t tall or muscular, but he had two sleeves of tattoos and a frown that sent out shock waves.

  “Yo, blondie!” he yelled. “Get away from my dog.”

  The pup pushed his head into my palm, trembling. Meanwhile, Jilly pulled on my shoulder to get me to stand. “We’d better go,” she said. “He looks mean.”

  “Don’t make me come over there,” the guy shouted. “I protect what’s mine.”

  “Liar,” I muttered, scrambling to my feet and resisting as Jilly towed me down the alley. “We can’t just—”

  “Discretion is the better part of valour,” she said. “Time for a new plan, my friend.”

  Chapter Two

  The next day was Saturday, so I didn’t need to deal with the fallout of my abrupt departure from Flordale’s executive boardroom. Instead I met Jilly in the alley in the afternoon armed with kibble, water, bowls and everything the pup might need if we failed to liberate him. I’d even stopped at a veterinarian and tried—unsuccessfully—to talk them into giving me flea and worm medication. They wouldn’t be getting my business once I had the pup in my care.

  After checking to make sure the red car was gone, I dropped the bowls over the fence and poured kibble in one bowl and water in the other. A long string of saliva dripped from the dog’s muzzle but he sat politely till I said, “Okay.”

  “Impressive,” Jilly said, watching him gulp the food. “You’re quite a gentleman, Tux.”

  “Keats,” I said. “His name is Keats.”

  “Keats? Like the poet?”

  “Exactly. This guy knows how to recite. Wait till you hear his sad tale.”

  “In the meantime, you can tell me your sad tale.” She’d dressed down today in jeans, a powder blue cashmere cardigan and tan suede boots. Jilly didn’t really go more casual than that. You never knew when you might bump into a client or meet a new prospect.

  I’d worn black jeans
and a lightweight black jacket to hide the dirt. Already my knees were damp and muddy from kneeling beside Keats to give him a scratch.

  “Animal Services basically sucks,” I said. “I called yesterday and they said they sent someone around this morning to check on Keats.” I pointed across the yard to the two rusty bowls tipped upside down. “Apparently if a dog has food, water and shelter, they can’t do anything about it.”

  “Shelter? What shelter?” Jilly sounded horrified. “Surely they don’t mean that upended box? If he ever fit into that, it was months ago.”

  “And the bowls are empty, just like they were yesterday. The owner had time to yell at us but not to feed and water the dog.”

  She stared down at me with sharp green eyes. Her glossy lips pressed together for a moment. Then she said, “So what are we going to do about this situation?”

  My heart filled with relief. I was determined to help Keats, but knowing Jilly was on my side gave me courage.

  Pulling a leash and collar out of my pocket, I said, “I was thinking I could just, you know, take him.”

  “That man looked dangerous, Ivy. If he came after you, it might not end well.”

  “What’s he going to do to me?”

  “Follow you to your condo? Call Animal Services or the police?” She shrugged. “The options are many and none of them good for you.” I started to protest and she held up a manicured hand. “Or the dog, Ivy. Think of the dog.”

  I was still so outraged that I couldn’t trust my own judgment. No doubt some of that stemmed from what had happened at work, so I had to trust Jilly to guide me to make the right decisions. “Okay. No daring dog thefts. What do you suggest?”

  She gave me a brilliant smile. “We use your HR skills. When Prince Charming gets home, let’s go around front and talk him into believing that giving you the dog is the very best thing he could do right now. If you can convince people that getting fired is the life change they truly need, you can convince this loser that caring for another living creature is too much of a hassle.”