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

  “I caught a terrible bug. Down for the count all weekend with a fever. Even now I feel like I could throw up.”

  His pale blue eyes widened. “Feel free to excuse yourself if that’s going to happen.”

  “For sure. I’m just going to take it easy till all this passes.”

  “You do that.” He leaned back in his chair. “As long as it passes fast.”

  I folded my hands in my lap. “There’s a deadline for flu?”

  “Only for you.” He waited a beat and then gave a loud guffaw. “Just kidding. But you do know this department can’t manage without you, Ivy.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet. But everyone’s replaceable. Isn’t that what you always say?”

  “I never say that.” He gave me a wink. “Not on the record, anyway.”

  “Actually, I agree with you. Sometimes it’s best for everyone to part ways.”

  He gave a little smirk that was more genuine. “Glad you feel that way, Killer. Because that’s the attitude you’re going to need for the next year.”

  “The next year?”

  “It’ll probably take that long to offload Flordale’s dead wood around the world. I suggest you travel light. Use carry-on.”

  “I know the drill,” I said, sighing. “It sounds daunting at the moment.”

  “Must be the flu talking because a challenge never bothered you.”

  Casting a sideways glance, I confirmed my suspicion that everyone was watching us. “You’re right, Wilf. I always did like a challenge.”

  His smirk faded and his hands stretched out, palms down on the desk. “What’s going on, Killer? You’ve got a chance to see the world on the company dollar. That’s how I’d look at it.”

  “I find travel more tiring than I used to. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  He laughed, this time more sincerely. “You’re a babe compared to me.”

  I winced at the word, even though he didn’t mean it the way Skint had.

  “Killer. Talk to me. You’re not yourself.” He sounded sympathetic but his eyes were cagey.

  “All good. Just tired. I need a few weeks to recover my spark.”

  “We don’t have a few weeks. Sylvia’s out there booking your flights now. You leave Wednesday for Paris and you’ll be gone for two months.”

  A little gasp slipped out. “I can’t leave so soon.”

  “Why? What aren’t you telling me?” He attempted a grin that didn’t meet his eyes. “Have you met someone?”

  I pushed the chair back from the desk to allow a quick escape. “How would that happen with the hours I work?”

  “True. I’ve always said you’re married to the company. We truly value that dedication, Killer.”

  “Thank you, Wilf. Then I know you’ll understand when I say I need at least two weeks to gear up for this. I’m sure you’re joking when you call me Killer, but you must know it takes a toll to fire so many people. Destroy their lives. Have you ever been downsized?”

  His already florid face flushed. I knew he’d been let go from a job long ago, but he’d obviously managed to bury those feelings deeply so that he could dehumanize our staff. He even made sure our packages for those we fired were as stingy as possible.

  “Let’s keep our eyes on the prize, Ivy.” I noticed the switch to my real name. “The prize is a healthy company, and right now Flordale needs to trim the fat.” He leaned across the desk, all the better to shove me back in line. “You’re the fat trimmer. Our very own grim reaper. We can’t afford for you to lose your edge now. To get soft.”

  “Of course not. Understood, sir.” I straightened out of my slump and plastered that fake smile back on. “Fear not. You can deploy your weapon of corporate death soon.”

  There was relief in his sigh. “That sounds more like you.”

  “All I’m asking is that you push back deployment by two weeks, Wilf. If I fly when I’m so depleted, I could get really sick, and then we’d be in a pickle. I’ll do all my preparation here so that I can move even faster overseas.”

  He turned back to his computer. “I’m afraid there’s no flexibility, Ivy. Visit a doctor to get whatever pharmaceuticals you need to make this happen. You fly Wednesday. That’s a direct order.”

  I stood abruptly and said, “Give me your wastebasket. I’m going to—”

  “Run, Killer!” He pushed his seat back and raised his hands. “Run.”

  Chapter Six

  I didn’t run. Instead, I kept a nice steady pace as I walked across the workspace and headed outside to grab some fresh air. Then I came back inside and spent the rest of the day cleaning up my files. I knew with sudden clarity that I wouldn’t be on a plane to Paris this week, or anytime soon. I’d promised Keats, and I would not abandon him. Even though Jilly had offered to watch over the dog, there was no way I could travel for months and leave her with that responsibility. I was the one who’d made the commitment, and with a man like Skint in charge of Keats, I couldn’t put Jilly in danger on her own.

  I’d made another decision during my meeting with Wilf: I wouldn’t abandon myself, either. After 10 years of so-called marriage to Flordale, they were willing to throw me to the dogs, as it were. If I didn’t hop on a plane immediately, I’d very likely top the list of the downsized and Wilf would deliver the news himself. I was well paid for my service, but it was no longer enough. I wanted to treat people like humans; I wanted to be treated like a human myself. That apparently wasn’t possible here. Not anymore.

  I wished I could stay until I had a soft landing in place, but since Paris was out of the question, I had to make my move immediately. What I could do was leave my professional house in perfect order. My colleague Keri was the one most likely to take over my work, and I quite liked her. I’d do my best to ease her transition into the deep waters of the Flordale shark tank.

  At around 7 p.m., when everyone had left the office, I went through my drawers and files, and packed what I wanted to keep into my bag. I locked the laptop in the drawer and left the key under the mug with the great white shark on it that Wilf had given me when he pulled my name in Secret Santa.

  Tomorrow, I’d submit a letter to the vice president requesting to be downsized. I’d earned the buy-out, not only with years of service, but with the long list of grievances, great and small, that I’d recorded about Wilf’s behavior. Maybe he’d get a chance to experience downsizing himself again, and this time it might make a lasting impression.

  I hoped they’d do the right thing, but if not, I had a nest egg to fall back on, and a condo to sell. It was enough to get a fresh start somewhere else.

  The evening was surprisingly warm when I walked out the front door. In fact, a wall of heat hit me, and after a few stifling steps, I stopped and took off my jacket. It wouldn’t fit in my bag with everything else, so I dropped it in the nearest trash bin and kept walking. “Suit” no more. Whatever the future held, I probably wouldn’t need 15 of them.

  My heart lifted as I turned into the first alley and hurried toward my clandestine rendezvous with the tuxedoed male in my life. Mixed with the excitement was fear. What if Skint had locked him inside? What if he’d harmed him in some way to punish me? But a small voice told me I was right about his having something to hide in that yard. Until he got that resolved, Keats was likely safe, but I’d have to make my move soon.

  I was practically running by the time I reached the yard and relief surged through me when I saw the black and white creature stretched out on the grass and panting in the sweltering heat. He was on his paws in a second, however, dragging the heavy chain to me as fast as he could.

  After making sure the red Chevy was gone and there were no signs of life in the house, I dropped to my knees and let him lick my face through the wire.

  “How are you doing, buddy? You hungry?”

  He gave a hearty wag that erased some of the cares of my day. Keeping one eye on the house, I poured a baggie of kibble into a foil container I’d brought, and water into another. Despite the
weather, the dog’s regular water bowl was tipped and empty. He wouldn’t last long in a heat wave without me. I poured a large bottle of water into the foil container after he’d eaten and he drank all of it.

  After that, he offered me his usual array of tricks with no seeming motive other than to put a smile on my face, which it did.

  I pulled a ball out of my bag and said, “Want to learn fetch, canine Einstein?”

  He wagged even harder, so I tossed the ball and it rolled into the garden. He ran over to get it, dragging the chain. Picking up the ball, he carried it back and dropped it beside the fence.

  The ball wouldn’t fit through the wire, and there was no way I could reach it without jumping in. I didn’t fancy another confrontation with Skint, so I just said, “That was stupid of me, Keats. I’m sorry.”

  Keats didn’t give up as easily. Instead, he started digging, evidently trying to free the ball so I could grab it underneath.

  “Good boy,” I said. “Dig. Dig.”

  In no time there was a hole the perfect size, and he nudged the ball out like a gumball from a machine. I tossed it toward the house, but it arced into the sunflowers again. Keats fetched it back and released the ball into the trough.

  I sent Jilly a video of him fetching the ball and dropping it under the fence and she called me immediately.

  “That dog’s Mensa material,” she said.

  “What if I helped him to dig himself out to freedom?” I asked.

  “I think Mr. Skint would still come after you. We need a better plan.”

  “But in the meantime, Keats is going to fry out here.” I waited a beat and added, “At least I’ll be able to get over here more often to make sure he has water.”

  “Oh yeah?” Her tone shot to red alert. “How so?”

  “I’m quitting Flordale tomorrow.” She started to speak and I talked over her. “Wilf insisted on sending me to Paris on Wednesday, even though I begged for a couple of weeks. I told him I wasn’t feeling well, which was true, and he advised me to pick up meds and get packing. As a dutiful wife to the company.”

  “What an idiot,” Jilly said. “Okay. Get a good night’s sleep and we’ll meet for an early breakfast and strategize.”

  Relief flooded through me again when she didn’t fight my decision. “How about meeting for a drink tonight instead?”

  “Even better.” I heard her heels clicking as she started to get ready. It was a rare evening that I offered to go out.

  “Can you bring me a sweater? I threw out my suit jacket in a flagrant statement as I left the office. But the bar will probably be pumping A/C.”

  She laughed. “Keep your pants, okay? Otherwise the only bar that will serve us is the Booby Trap.”

  While we chatted, Keats had gone over to the garden and started digging there, too. The dirt flew up from his snowy paws. “Leave it, Keats,” I called. “Skint will have our heads if you dig up his rare sunflowers.”

  The dog wagged his white-tipped tail and mumbled a story. He sounded excited.

  “What’s he saying?” Jilly asked. “Have you cracked the code yet?”

  “Sounds like another tall tale,” I said. “Tail… get it?”

  “Wine might improve your puns.”

  I threw the ball again to distract Keats. It soared up, bright orange against the peachy sunset sky, and then landed in the sunflowers again. No matter how hard I tried to aim differently, it kept landing there. I’d always been a disaster at sports, and the company baseball league had discreetly fired me.

  Keats bounded after it with a jangle of metal and more dirt flew.

  “He’s found another ball,” I said, getting to my feet and peering over the fence. “It’s big. He’s rolling it with his nose.” I aimed the phone at him and filmed it for Jilly. “I hope Skint doesn’t freak out at the mess.”

  The dog rolled the big ball against the fence and I gave a little shriek.

  “Ow. I needed that ear,” Jilly said. “What happened?”

  My fingers shook as I hit send on the video. “It’s not a ball, Jilly. Check your phone.”

  There was silence on the other end and then a scream even louder than mine. “Oh my god. Is that what I think it is?”

  “Only if you think it’s a skull.”

  “Why is Keats rolling a skull around?”

  “He unearthed it from the sunflowers. Maybe the rest of the skeleton is in the garden, too. Now we know what Skint’s been hiding.”

  “Ivy, get out of there, fast. When Skint gets home and finds that skull, he’ll use his baseball bat on yours.”

  I squared my shoulders. “I’m not leaving Keats with a murderer. I’m stealing him right now.”

  “Don’t, Ivy, please. Wait till I get there.”

  “I’m done waiting. Skint could show up randomly like he did yesterday.”

  “Call the cops before you end up the next body under the sunflowers.”

  “There are worse places to rest, I guess.” I stuck my foot in the chain link.

  “Then I’ll call the cops while you get the dog and the skull.”

  “Deal,” I said. “I’m going to put the phone in my pocket. Meet me at my place in 20 minutes, K?”

  The phone was still in my hand when I heard the sound of a blown muffler heading our way. I cursed softly, trying to think.

  “Ivy? Talk to me. What’s happening?”

  “He’s coming. I hear the car. And the skull’s lying beside the fence.”

  “Okay, stay calm. Gather up everything you can and run to the garage. Send Keats to the gate so that there’s no reason for Skint to come that far.”

  “Good idea. But I’ve got a better one.” Dropping the phone in my pocket, I said, “Keats, dig. Now.” He started enlarging the hole on his side and I did the same on mine. In less than a minute, there was a deep enough opening and he nudged the skull under the fence. I pulled it through and then shoved it aside, muttering, “Sorry. Sorry.” Quickly I filled in as much of the hole as I could. Then I stood and gathered everything up. Clutching the skull against my belly, I shuddered. “It’s just a dirty old ball,” I told myself as I ran to the garage. Turning at the door, I said, “Keats, go.”

  I moved inside just seconds before the Chevy’s lights poured into the yard. Backing against the wall, I jumped when I heard scrabbling sounds overhead. If a raccoon landed on me now, I’d scream. I might drop the skull first, and then scream.

  “What’s going on?” Jill’s voice was tinny and faraway in my pocket.

  The car lights went off and I leaned out. I could see Keats standing by the gate. Skint walked over and peered into the yard.

  “Keats is performing,” I whispered, pulling back. “He’s on his hind legs, dancing and spinning like a robot on crack. If I didn’t know better I’d say he’s distracting Skint.”

  I poked my head out again to see Skint leaning on the fence staring at the dog as if he’d never seen him before. He probably hadn’t seen this remarkable circus act. Keats went through his whole repertoire of tricks, more than I’d seen. I held my breath and even the critters in the rafters above me settled down. The evening was eerily quiet.

  Finally, Skint shook his head and said, “Guess you’re not as stupid as I thought.” He sounded mystified. After nearly a minute passed, during which I was pretty sure I was going to faint, he unlocked the gate to the yard. “I’m taking you down to Boobies. There’s a guy there who likes dogs and I think Misty, the dancer, does too. You can show them your tricks. Maybe I’ll get a free drink out of it. Or better.”

  He gave a sleazy laugh as he walked across the grass to free the chain from the tree. It wasn’t far from the site of the excavation. As if to keep up the distraction, Keats cavorted along by his side, acting the clown.

  “You settle down,” Skint said. “Save your energy for your circus act. This is a one-time deal. Play the fool and you might not make it back home.”

  He coiled the long chain around his tattooed arm, then pulled the small do
g behind him to the Chevy and opened the back door. Keats didn’t jump in voluntarily, so Skint bent and hoisted him in none too gently.

  “What’s happening now?” Jilly whispered.

  “He’s taking Keats down to the bar to impress Jason and a stripper.”

  “Okay. Okay. Well, if he thinks Keats is going to get him some stripper love, he won’t hurt him, right?”

  I waited till Skint had locked the gate and left in the car before I answered. “He also said that Keats might not make it back home if he didn’t perform on command.” When I was sure the coast was clear, I stepped out and started walking. “I can’t take a chance on that, so I’m heading down to the Booby Trap now. Meet me there?”

  “No freakin' way.” Jilly’s voice was now loud and clear. “We’ve got to call the cops right now about that skull.”

  “Right. The skull.” I dropped the phone into my pocket again and went back into the garage. My bag was full, so I dumped my things from the office in the corner. Then I shoved the skull into my bag and covered it with the Team Flordale baseball cap I’d kept in a prescient moment of sentiment.

  Then I started walking, wiping my hands on my black pants. They were so caked in grime there was no hope.

  “I’m waiting,” Jilly called from my pocket.

  “I know, I know.” I groped for the phone. “I’m going to grab a cab now.”

  “Ivy Galloway, you get back in the garage with that skull and stay there until the cops arrive. You cannot go down to that strip bar on your own and confront a murderer with grizzly evidence.”

  “He’s not going to know I have the skull in my purse. It’s a big bag.”

  “It’s in your purse?” She gave a long groan. “You know exactly what’s going to happen, don’t you? It’s going to fall out because you’re accident prone. And then what?”

  I was already in front of Skint’s house looking down the road for a cab. Hopefully for once, I could manage to flag one without my eye-catching friend at my side.

  “I promise I will not drop the skull. I’ll call the police now and head over to keep an eye on Skint. Do you want to come here and talk to the police or meet me at the bar?”