Drool Baby (A Dog Park Mystery) (Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries) (3 page)

Roger had been talking about suicide since he first showed up at the dog park following his wife's death a few years earlier. He often came at 4:00 a.m.
and usually left before anyone showed up. Jose was his best friend. It was Jose who checked in on him when he was depressed. When Roger lost his job, it
was Jose who found him a new job doing custodial work at the apartment complex where he supervised maintenance. It was Jose with the patience of Job who
listened to Roger's stories of the many ways his girlfriend Gina abused him and his frequent announcements of suicidal intent.

"C'mon, Roger," Jose urged. "We need to get going or we'll be late for work. Don't matter that it's Saturday. Her Bitch-ness will read us the riot act."
Jose called his gentle mastiff, Sophie, while Roger gathered up a pair of mixed breeds named Maddie and Lacy.

As she watched their retreating backs, Lia commented, "Suicide before breakfast. Just what I need."

Anna turned to face Marie and tsked. "He had no business bringing up Bailey. And what did you think you were doing egging him on, Miss Marie Woo?"

Marie gave Anna her inscrutable Chinese look from under those shocking zebra bangs. "Jose being his friend doesn't help. Lia telling him to get therapy
doesn't help. Maybe telling him to do it will help. Too bad Terry's not here, he could have given him directions on how to properly commit Hari-kari and
what kind of knife to use."

Anna shook her head, setting her shoulder length mane of pale gold hair bobbing. "It's in entirely poor taste."

"Poor taste is what Roger said about Bailey," Marie said. "What's happening with Bailey, Lia? Has Peter said anything?"

Lia looked out across the park from her perch atop her favorite picnic table. Her Golden Retriever, Honey was playing tug-of-war over a stick with Marie's
champion Schnauzer, Nita. Lia's Miniature Schnauzer, Chewy, yipped encouragement from the sidelines. Anna's Tibetan Mastiff, CarGo, lolled at her side,
aloof from the skirmish. The dogs, at least, understood how one should spend one's time at the park. In the distance, she spotted a pair of dogs, one a
large hound, all flopping ears and graceless lope, and the other a compact Border Collie with a tidy trot. Behind them Jim stumped along with a walking
stick.

"She's still in the psych unit. Last I heard, she hadn't said a word for more than a month. She'll eat if someone puts food in front of her, but that's
about it. She's not fit for a trial. The case is on hold as long as she's catatonic."

"Do you have any idea why she snapped like that?" Marie asked. "You're the one who knew her best."

Lia chewed her bottom lip. The topic was uncomfortable, but talking about it helped. "I can't say. She seemed fine until we were in the middle of building
Catherine's labyrinth. Then she got moody and edgy. I just chalked it up to working for Catherine."

Marie made a face. "Catherine was enough to make anyone edgy."

"She was reading some wacko book about reincarnation and karma. Stuff about using evil to promote the highest good. It was way out there. I don't know
where she got it."

"Weird." Marie rolled her eyes.

"It's complicated. No one's really sure what happened."

"What happened is she held a gun to your head!" Anna interjected. "There can't be any question about that."

"Not that," Lia explained. "All the other stuff. They still haven't been able to connect Bailey to Catherine and Luthor, but the DA figures it's a moot
point until she gets well enough to stand trial."

"Confusing," Marie agreed.

Just then, the large hound jumped up on the table behind Lia and lavished her cheek with a wide, rough tongue. She left behind a long, sticky streamer of
dog drool. Lia swiped her face with the back of her hand and wiped it off on sweat shorts covered with colorful smears of oil paint.

"Ugh." Anna made a face and scooted away.

"Sorry about that," Jim said as he trotted up. "Kita, down!"

Lia put a protective arm around the hound. "She can stay. You're a good girl, aren't you Kita?" she said to the soulful brown-eyed Bloodhound as she
stroked the dangling ears. She turned to Jim, "How's she doing? Has she adjusted yet? Any luck finding someone to take her permanently?"

"Fleece doesn't like her, but they've struck a truce. I thought it would be easier to find her a home. She mopes a lot. I don't know if she's missing
Bailey or if that's just how she acts."

"You're a saint for taking her in," Anna said.

Jim gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Roger's going to shoot himself," Marie offered cheerfully.

"Again? Still?"

"Who knows?" Marie continued. "I think he just likes the attention. I don't think he'll ever do it. For all we know, he said the same things to his wife
for twenty years before she died."

Anna looked thoughtful. "Maybe we should find out. He'd tell Jose, wouldn't he?"

"Probably," Lia said. "He tells Jose everything."

"Why is he so hung up on this Gina, anyway?" Marie asked.

"He says he can't live without a womanÕs touch," Jim said. "Not that I can see anything womanly about the way she treats him."

"I asked my therapist about him last week," Lia said. "She says there's not much you can do with someone who won't accept help, especially if they drink a
lot. But we should pay attention if he suddenly gets in a good mood and starts giving away his possessions, or if he stops going to work. If he starts
giving away his possessions, it could mean he's committed to a plan and is settling his affairs. The real kicker would be if he found a new home for Maddie
and Lacy."

"I think you're right," Anna commented. "I don't think we need to get too concerned until that happens."

"So what's this I hear about a new project?" Marie asked Lia in a change of subject.

"I got a call from Renee, one of Catherine's friends from the solstice party. She wants a solar marker for her garden, something fanciful, with lots of
mosaics."

"What's a solar marker?" Jim asked.

"You know, like Stonehenge and all those other places that were built to mark the calendar. Only smaller. You have a tall object of some kind, like a
megalith, and the shadow it casts on dawn of the equinox lines up with a marker. You add other markers for the solstices."

"How will you know where to place the markers?" Anna asked. "That would be awfully difficult to figure out, wouldn't it?"

Lia smiled. "I'll cheat. I'll build the megalith, and when the equinox and solstices come, I'll see where the shadow falls and install the markers."

"Brilliant," Marie commented.

"Hail, good people! Talking about me again?"

Everyone turned to see Terry approaching, followed by Jackson and Napa. He was joined by a trim, sporty grandmother with a snub nose, white, boy-cut hair
and a Basset Hound at her heels.

Kita and Honey jumped off the table and chased Jackson off towards the rear of the park. Napa, the Golden Retriever, and Rufus, the Bassett, trotted after.

"And there they go," Marie announced. "We could have used you earlier, Terry. Hey, Nadine."

"Do tell," Terry said.

"Roger's committing suicide again," Marie said. "You could have given the historical perspective on Hari-kari."

"Ah. Hari-kari, also known as Seppuku, which translates as 'stomach cutting', the traditional Japanese ritual of suicide by disembowelment performed in
front of an audience by plunging a knife into one's belly and moving it from left to right. Committed by a Samurai to avoid falling into the hands of the enemy or
because one has brought shame onto one's self. So who is to be the lucky spectator?"

"Marie thought Gina should have the honor," Anna commented dryly.

"Sacrilege!" Terry cried. "No self-respecting Samurai would fall on his sword over a woman."

It is delicious to sit in the park and listen as my friends talk about the deaths that happened earlier this summer. I am responsible, and they are
oblivious. The echos of my actions are like ripples in a pond from a dropped stone, washing against my skin. So cool and delightful. It is marvelous to
contemplate murder, each memory a sweet frisson of pleasure.

I know who I would remove next, if I could. Roger begs for death but is too cowardly to pull the trigger. I would do it for him, if I had not indulged
myself with Luthor and Catherine. It would be so easy. Too easy, I tell myself. Not worthy of me.

It is much too soon. I have killed twice since May, when I rarely allow myself more than one a year. I need to be careful about removing someone connected
to the park. Repetition forms patterns and patterns draw attention. I must be cautious if I do not want everything to get out of control.

Until recently, I had rules, and the rules kept me safe. Removing people was such a simple solution for impossible situations. Each removal was a rational
decision backed up by meticulous planning. Each provided the satisfactions of a job well done.

Then Catherine changed everything. I broke my rules, and the risk was exhilarating. Almost as exhilarating as killing Catherine. This is perhaps why people
dive off cliffs and rob banks. Why some people court danger. It is a secret I never knew, that you could feel such intoxication.

Still, my recent acts received attention and I have always avoided attention. It has been a long time since the police were involved in one of my little
adventures. The first time, I feared discovery. This time, outwitting them became part of the pleasure. But it was still more risk than I liked. I want the
thrill, but I want protections as well. Murder should be like bungee jumping, where one can enjoy the dive but stop short of the rocks.

For now, all is well with Bailey safely away and all but convicted. To kill Roger might be a risk without reward. He is a pathetic man whose miserable life
has little impact on my own. I do not need him gone. Removing him might draw that attention again. Still, if the opportunity presents itself, I may not be
able to resist. The important question being, would I get the same satisfaction if I see relief instead of fear in his eyes?

Lia was still unsettled from her session with Asia when she heard the arguing. She spotted Jim and Anna at a table, talking to Roger while he threw a disc
for Maddie. From the sound of his voice, Roger was getting angry.

"That don't mean anything. Ask her the questions!" Roger pointed at Lia as she walked up with Chewy and Honey.

"What questions?" Lia asked.

"Jim thinks I'm a alcoholic and he says this test shows it."

"I only pointed out that he said yes to the first four questions," Jim shrugged. "You asked me to bring the quiz. You didn't have to answer the questions."

"I answered them. Somebody else can answer them too." He turned to Lia. "You do it."

Lia shook her head and sighed. "Sure, why not. What's the first one."

"Here, let me have the list. I want to pick the questions," Roger demanded.

Jim surrendered the AA quiz to Roger. Roger scanned the page. "This one. 'Do you ever lose time from work due to drinking?'"

"No."

"You don't have a work schedule. You work when you want to. That one shouldn't count. Try this one. 'Do you want a drink the next morning?'"

"No."

"Humph. This one. 'Have you ever had a complete loss of memory as a result of drinking?'"

"Nope."

"What about this? 'Do you drink to escape from worries or trouble?'"

"No."

"You're lying. Everybody does that. 'Do you crave a drink at a particular time of day?"

Lia shook her head. "Uh-uh."

"Aw, c'mon. Everyone wants a drink at five o'clock. That's why they invented happy hour."

"Not me," offered Jim.

"You don't count. You don't ever drink. You're not normal."

"Okay," Roger turned back to Lia and scanned the list. "One more. 'Do you drink alone?'"

"Sure."

"See, I'm not the only one."

"Water, juice, tea, coffee. Mostly water."

"That's not what I meant, you know what I meant. I was talking about liquor and beer, stuff like that."

"I don't keep booze around. The beer's for guests. So I guess not."

"You're a girl. It's different for girls." He glared at Jim. It still don't mean anything." He shoved the list back at Jim. "Here, take this."

"Jose says you were sitting at your kitchen table, staring at your gun and drinking. Do you think that might mean something?" Jim asked.

"I was just having some beer. It didn't have anything to do with that, and what's Jose doing talking about me anyway?"

"Roger," Lia asked gently, "How do you know it doesn't have anything to do with the beer?"

"I just do. Look, if I was a alcoholic, I wouldn't be able to work, would I? I work every damn day."

"Didn't you lose your last job because you were late and hung-over?" Jim asked.

"I lost my last job because the foreman had it in for me. He was just using that as an excuse. I always did my work. I don't need no AA."

"I'm sure you're right," Lia said, "but I bet Terry could use a ride to some meetings. He still can't drive because of the cast on his leg. I've been
helping some, but I'm starting to get busy and I don't have the time anymore."

"What do you go to them meetings for? You ain't a alcoholic."

"They're pretty interesting. The people are nice. I enjoy them."

"I'd take him," Anna offered, "but my ceramics class is starting up, and it's going to take up most of my evenings."

"I don't want anyone getting after me," Roger warned.

"They don't do that. They just talk about how drinking affected them and how they got better. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. And
you'll get coffee and cookies."

"I don't want to hang around a bunch of old fart losers."

"Please, Roger? I need someone to take Terry tomorrow night. Donna can't because she's going to be out of town and I can't because it's Peter's only night
off this week."