Doghouse (20 page)

Professional security taken care of, she offered him a smile when he sat down at the bar. “Hi there. What can I get ya?”

“I, um, I called? About—” He spotted Parsifal sitting on the counter a few seats down, and an awkward smile crossed his face. “Is that the dog?”

“Oh, oh! Hi, yeah. This is Parsifal. Parsi, c'mere, baby.”

The puppy tilted his head and looked at Stacy, then took a step forward, looked at the stranger, and stopped.

“Huh. That's weird.” Stacy tilted her head as well, looking at the dog. “Parsi, sweetie, what's wrong?” She went to pick up the puppy, scooping him into the crook of her arm and turning back to the man who was waiting. “He's very young,” she said, rumpling the silky ears. “So you need to move slowly, so's not to spook him, I guess.”

“Hi there,” the guy said, but he didn't reach out to pet the dog. Stacy frowned. Maybe he was observing her personal space or something, but she'd noticed that pretty much
everyone
reached out to pet Parsifal: he just had that kind of adorableness. Especially someone who had an interest in maybe taking him home.

Well, maybe the guy was scared of hurting him, or putting his hand too close to her chest. That would be a nice change, if so.

“Here you go,” she said, putting the puppy back down on the counter. “He's really not supposed to be up here when we're open, but he's so little I'm afraid I'll lose him if he's down on the ground. I'm Stacy, by the way.”

“Rick.”

“Hi, Rick. So.” She paused, eyeing the man, and decided to trust her instincts. “Why don't you see if you and Parsifal are suited? Just put your hand out and let him smell you, let him make up his own mind.”

“Oh, um, yeah, okay. Hi, um, Parsifal, you called him?”

“You can rename him anything you want,” she said. “It was just a name my boss stuck on him, I don't know why. He's not exactly the knight gallant type, is he?” She smiled, but her gaze was cold, watching as Rick lifted a hand and then shoved it toward the puppy. Parsifal didn't exactly cringe, but he showed none of his usual enthusiasm for affection, either.

“You're not used to dogs, are you?”

“What?” Rick looked at her, and then pushed his hand forward a little more, curling his fingers as he touched the top of Parsifal's head. “No, I—” And he yelped as Parsifal twisted his head and sank tiny needle teeth into his hand. “Damn it,” he cursed, and backhanded the puppy, sending it skittering down the bar, yelping in surprise and pain.

“Hey!” Stacy cried, instinctively reaching her left hand below the bar for the panic button, and instead closing her fingers on a familiar wooden shape. “Back the hell off!”

After their
detour, the drive back to Ballard, and Mary's, seemed endless, thanks to the usual afternoon traffic, and construction. For the first time ever, Teddy wished he'd left the radio in the car, because the silence was making him tense up even more. Ginny had tried to start a conversation a few times, but they were both caught up in a vague but real sense of worry that didn't lead to idle conversation, and there wasn't anything new and relevant to talk about that didn't just feed their worry.

Once the traffic cleared, Teddy started driving just above the speed limit, constantly checking the speedometer to make sure he wasn't turning into cop bait. Part of him wanted to call the bar and make sure everything was all right, but he didn't want to panic Stacy if nothing was wrong. And if anything had happened, they'd call him first.

He took his phone out and propped it on his leg, just in case.

Meanwhile, Ginny had pulled out her own phone and was dialing a number, waiting for someone to pick up.

“Hey, hey, it's Ginny. Have you been able to get anywhere on the thing I asked you about?”

Teddy glanced sideways at her, and decided that the expression on her face wasn't good news. Pity: they could have used some about now.

“What? No, no, I understand . . . yeah. No, I get it. I'm sorry. Yeah.” She ended the call and shook her head.

“Bad news?”

“No news. Luce, my friend down at City Hall, got her hand slapped one time too many for sneaking looks at
reports she wasn't supposed to care about. Who knew the fire department's records were so hush-hush?”

“You never know when a fire is going to become front-page political news,” Teddy said. “So we're going to have to rely on my contacts to find out what really happened, and that's . . . going to be slow.” They were good guys, mostly, but checking out paperwork on a fire they hadn't had anything to do with was not going to be a priority for them. He made a sound of exasperation that made Georgie lift her head with a what's-up grunt.

Ginny was still staring out the window. “Too slow. We're going to have to go on gut this time.” She sounded disgusted; Ginny trusted her gut, but she hated having to rely on it. “Do you think the fire was accidental?”

He shook his head. “No.”

And there it was, the question neither of them asked, but both were thinking: if it was deliberately set, had it been arson, a way to get rid of a now-unwanted house . . . or attempted murder of a potential witness?

By the
time they pulled into the lot next to Mary's, his usual slot thankfully still open, the tension had settled into Teddy's bones, thrumming in the back of his head like a headache about to appear.

They went in through the back door, bypassing the storeroom and tiny kitchen. Everything seemed in order, but the usual low hum of noise he'd expect from the bar in late afternoon was missing. If Teddy hadn't already been
tense, that would have triggered it. Then there was a yell, and a crash, and he was through the connecting door that led to the front bar, wishing like hell the baseball bat they kept behind the bar was in his hands.

Then he pulled up hard, feeling Ginny nearly crash into him, because Stacy had the bat in her hands, standing over a prone body, with Seth on his knees next to the guy; Seth was breathing hard and swearing, the same four-syllable word over and over again.

Penny, her tail flicking back and forth in irritation, was sitting on the bar and staring down in disgust at all the humans. Parsifal was curled up next to her, his entire body shaking, but his eyes bright as he watched the activity around him.

Only after he'd taken in that his people—and the animals—were safe did Teddy realize that there were other people in the bar. He identified most of the patrons as regulars, shoved up against the far wall with expressions that ranged from terrified to outright amused.

“Everyone okay?” he asked, his gaze including everyone in the question.

“We got this, boss,” Stacy said, her cheerful tone at odds with the way the bat was shaking in her hands, now that the adrenaline rush seemed to be wearing off. The figure at her feet stirred, as though to object, and she dropped the bat point-down to poke him in the shoulder. “Don't you move, you ass.”

“Seth?”

“Yeah, boss.” The old man sounded winded, and
pissed-off. “I'm getting too old for this shit. This used to be a quiet joint.”

That earned him a snicker from someone. The last time they'd had trouble at Mary's, Seth hadn't stopped grumbling for a week because he'd missed all the action.

“What happened?” Ginny kept Georgie on the leash, rather than letting her roam the way the dog usually did inside Mary's, and started walking a careful half circle around Seth and the stranger until she reached the bar and was able to reach out a hand to Parsifal. The dog uncurled himself enough to sniff at her, then scrambled along the bar, almost knocking Penny over in his eagerness to be picked up and cuddled.

“Fuck you,” the guy on the floor mumbled.

Stacy glared at him, and gripped the bat more securely. “This guy called, said he'd heard we had a dog that was looking for a home. He used your name. I thought you'd sent him.”

“No.”

“Well, I know that
now
. He didn't seem to have a clue about dogs at all, acting weird, and Parsifal didn't like him, did you, baby?”

“So you clubbed him?”

“Bitch is crazy,” the guy on the floor moaned, and Seth, who had just gotten to his feet, kicked him in the ribs. “Respect for the girl who just whupped your ass,” the boxer advised.

“Parsi bit him, but only 'cause he was spooked, and he
hit Parsifal—hard! Then Penny jumped on his head.” Stacy was indignant, but proud. “And then I hit him.”

“And Seth, being the only practical one around here, tied him up,” Teddy said, finally noting that the guy's feet and hands were bound with what looked like . . . “Seriously, duct tape?”

Seth shrugged. “He tried to hit Stacy.”

“I ducked,” she said proudly, and the old man shook his head, his earlier praise set aside in favor of scolding. “Not fast enough. You haven't been practicing.”

“I've been busy!”

“Yes, and you get busy and you get sloppy. I—”

“Guys? Not now.” Teddy reached down and hauled the guy up by the collar. It was a showboaty move, but one that usually impressed idiots. The guy was in his early twenties, muscular but wiry, his facial hair straggly, the skin around his watery blue eyes unwrinkled. His gaze skittered away from Teddy's, then came back, reluctantly. Defiant but not stupid: he knew he was screwed.

“Normally I'm a mellow kind of guy,” Teddy said conversationally. “But you came into my bar, and you were a jerk. You hit a puppy, man. Seriously? I'm not even a dog person and that pisses me off.”

The guy opened his mouth, but Teddy shook his head, stopping whatever he was about to say. “Nuh-uh. Now, I have a couple of options. I can call the cops, and file a complaint. Or we can have a nice little conversation about who sent you, and why, after which I will just throw your ass to
the curb and warn you against ever coming near this place or these people again. Your call.”

He let the guy's feet touch ground, but kept hold of his collar, just in case the guy decided to make a run for it. Georgie could probably take him down before he reached the door, and if not, then Stacy looked more than ready to do it, but Teddy'd rather this was settled in a less messy manner. They'd already had quite enough fuss for the day.

“You came here about the dog. Why?”

“Look, man, I was just hired to do a job, okay?”

“Okay,” Teddy said agreeably. “What job?”

“To get the dog. I was going to pay for it, I swear. Money's in my pocket.”

“And then what were you supposed to do with the dog?”

Silence.

Teddy tugged at the collar, just enough to get his attention.

“Put it down,” the guy mumbled, obviously aware that the answer wasn't going to win him any fans.

“Why?”

“Man, I don't know! All right? Some guy calls me, offers me cash money to get rid of a dog. What do I care?”

“Some guy you've never heard from before offers you money and you take it?”

“Okay, so yeah, I've maybe seen him 'round before, you know? A few times. At the gym, talkin' to people.”

Teddy lifted his head and met Ginny's look across the bar. Odds of it being a different gym than the one they'd just come from were, he suspected, ridiculously low.

“Describe this guy.”

That seemed to be another breaking point. “Man, I . . .”

“I will call the cops,” Teddy said, his words bitten off with boarding-school-taught enunciation. “And I bet that everyone in here—being of the dog-loving persuasion—will swear that you assaulted that young lady when she tried to defend the puppy. Hitting a dog, hitting a girl . . . you think that gets you cred in jail?”

When in doubt, hit their machismo. “Fuck, man. I don't know. He was short, blond, pale. Maybe in his forties? Starting to go bald. Cold eyes, you didn't ask questions or give him grief, you just took what he was offering and said ‘yes, sir,' you know what I mean?”

Yeah. Teddy knew.

Ginny nodded once when he looked at her again, then shook her head. He took that to mean that she didn't have any other questions he should ask. He pulled the guy up by the collar again, his other hand grabbing the back of his jeans, and hauled him out the door, which a customer cheerfully held open for them. The urge to actually toss him was there, but instead Teddy set him on his feet, if ungently, and let go.

“Take your money and if the guy asks, the deed is done. I see you again, here or anywhere else in the city, and I will break both of your arms, got it?”

Teddy didn't wait for an answer, but went back inside, closing the door firmly behind him. The moment it clicked shut, he got a round of applause.

“Yeah, yeah, save it. Everyone okay? Stace, next round's on the house.”

That got another round of applause from the patrons, who seemed to think that the entire event had been for their entertainment. Teddy shook his head. No matter where you worked, some things stayed the same.

“Why didn't you call the cops?” Stacy demanded. “He should go to jail!”

“Because this is related to the case, to what's going on with Deke,” Teddy told her. “If he's arrested, whoever's behind this might close up shop and disappear. We can't risk that, not yet. Anyway, they weren't going to arrest him just for hitting a dog. Sorry, Stace.”

Stacy wasn't pleased, but she nodded reluctantly and went off to collect orders for the house's round.

“If they wanted to get rid of the dog badly enough to try this, odds just went up that the fire was deliberate, too. Not to get rid of Deke, but any evidence they might have left behind.” That also meant that the other dogs were probably dead, too, or already sold. And any other dogs in other houses? Probably. He said as much to Ginny, quietly.

“Something spooked them enough to make them close up shop. This kind of a breeding mill may not be illegal, but I'll bet there's something on the wrong side of borderline going on, so they're not going to take a chance on getting caught.”