Miz Scarlet and the Vanishing Visitor (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery) (11 page)

Meet me in the park, at the summit. You can have
your dog back, but only if I get the soap.

“Just out of curiosity, how were you going to explain
the miracle of finding Mozzie in the woods?” I asked the
teenager.

“I was going to say I found a lost dog and he
reminded me so much of my old, dead dog, I wanted to keep him and
call him Mozzie Two.”

“Had it all worked out, did you?” Judging from
Larry’s sarcastic tone, she was really miffed, and rightly so. This
was a big, fat mess.

“He’s all I have left of my family,” Jenny moaned. “I
have to get him back!”

“Shoot!” Those lime-covered legs stood up in those
strappy turquoise sandals and I wondered how the hell Larry was
going to climb up to the top of White Oak Hill in her current
attire. “Do either of you know how long and how hard I had to work
to get this job? And now you expect me to go traipsing up a
freaking mountain to confront some little punk who may or may not
have already killed a defenseless dog?”

The key word was defenseless. The minute I heard
that, I knew Larry was in.

“You want to borrow a pair of shorts and some hiking
boots?”

“Oh hell, no! I’ve got clothes in my car. You two
really are a pair, you know that?”

I could hear her stomping her way down the stairs and
out to her car. She was gone about ten minutes, and in that time,
the teenager must have apologized at least ten times. It really was
all about the dog.

Half an hour later, Jenny was ready by the back door.
She was wearing a pair of white shorts, a bright yellow tank top,
and white running shoes. Larry said it was important to be able to
spot her at all times. I was feeling nervous about the plan, so I
went over it one more time. Bur would stay with my mother at the
inn. I would bring up the rear, following Larry, who was following
the teenager. If only Kenny had arrived in time, I’d feel a whole
lot more confident. I pointed that out to Larry.

“Are you insane?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really think I am dumb enough to go up there
with just you for protection?”

“Well, you’ve got your gun.”

“And what are you going to do? Hit him over the head
with a mushroom? You are not coming with us, Miz Scarlet. You are a
civilian!”

“But I have to go! Jenny’s in danger!”

“Believe me, she’s in more danger with you on the
case! You stay here. I have my team moving into place as we speak.
I called in a couple of special ops guys who owe me a favor. And if
that damned dog isn’t at the summit, there’s going to be hell to
pay, ladies!”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed. Was I relieved to be out of
the loop or disappointed?

“Yes, ma’am,” Jenny echoed. She took a deep breath,
steeled herself, and headed off to collect her beloved dog. As I
watched them go out the door, I could only hope it all went like
clockwork. There had already been enough heartache.

Kenny arrived less than ten minutes after they left.
I took him up to my suite to show him the soap and the USB stick
with the files. By the time we collected the items and brought them
down to the library, marked cruisers were pulling into the
driveway.

“What’s going on?” I saw that look of apprehension in
my mother’s eyes. Kenny broke the news to her as we gathered in the
living room to await the outcome.

“This must be some kind of money-laundering thing,”
Bur suggested. “If they’re delivering the soap with the jewels
hidden inside, they have to have a distribution network.”

“The answer’s probably on the USB stick.”

“Gift baskets,” I decided, building on Jenny’s
information. “You can put a bar of organic soap in a gift basket
and no one looks at it twice.”

“And you can ship a gift basket,” Kenny added. “In
fact, if you’re sending them to your retailers, you can even ship
several in the same container without arousing suspicion. The
scented soaps won’t test positive for drugs, and why would anyone
look for jewels, real jewels, in organic soap?”

At a little after three, an all-terrain vehicle
pulled up to the front door. Jenny was home, carrying a bundle
wrapped in a blanket. I rushed to the door, threw it open, and
hurried her in. January ran up, wanting to know what was going on.
Huck was on the heels of the fox terrier.

“Well, did you get Mozzie back safely?” My heart was
pounding hard against my breastbone. Jenny’s face was glum. Larry,
chauffeured in a second ATV, arrived at the front porch and climbed
out. She was laughing with her colleagues. I couldn’t, for the life
of me, understand whether the outcome was good or bad. “Jenny?”

The blanket was pulled back to reveal the oddest
looking creature I had ever seen. White-and-brown head, big brown
eyes, no fur below the chin. “He shaved Mozzie’s hair off!”

“Oh, dear,” I sighed, as the naked pooch stuck out a
pink tongue and licked Jenny’s hand weakly.

“What is that?” Bur demanded. “It looks like E.T. on
a bad day.”

“No,” the girl sniffed. “It’s a-a-a Cavalier King
Charles spaniel.”

“How unfortunate,” my mother announced. “Those are
such pretty dogs, too.”

“I know!” The teenager was inconsolable. Even as I
watched her, I thought much of the teary-eyed lament was born of
her relief that Mozzie was still alive and her sense of guilt for
having deceived us for so long.

“Hair grows back, Jen.”

“But they cut him. See?”

Sure enough, the bottom of one of the little dog’s
ears had been sliced off. That must have happened when the teenager
snatched the laptop. Or the soap with the jewels in it. Or both. I
took a closer look. There was crusted blood and some signs of
infection.

“Hey, she did good,” Larry told me, looking over my
shoulder. “We got the little bastards. They’re on their way to
jail, probably post bond tomorrow. What’s the matter with the dog’s
ear?”

“Someone cut it off.”

“Take the dog to the vet, Scarlet. Have the vet
document the injuries. Get a complete work-up, with photos. I’m
going to put somebody’s feet to the fire.”

“Right.” I felt the dog’s little body. It was hot.
Not good. I eased the limp pooch back into Jenny’s arms and pulled
out my cell phone. The vet’s assistant answered on the third
ring.

“I need the vet to examine a dog who was physically
abused. All the injuries have to be documented for court.”

“Is this an emergency, or can it wait until
tomorrow?”

“The dog’s been cut and it looks like the wounds are
infected.”

“Bring the puppy over to the emergency room.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I hung up and told Kenny the
situation. He and Larry were going over the details of the New
Jersey case, and the homicide investigator was getting all the
contact numbers and names, so she could coordinate the Connecticut
end of things.

“I may or may not be here when you get back, Scar.
Sarge is meeting us just over the New Jersey border, so Larry can
hand over the evidence.”

“I’ll be glad when this is over,” I sighed, resting
my head on his shoulder. His lips brushed my forehead tenderly.

“Me, too.”

“Poor puppy,” the teenager cooed, hugging her dog
tightly. “Don’t you worry, boy. We’ll get you fixed up.”

Even as we made our way to the carriage house to
collect my car, that was a promise I wasn’t sure we could keep. For
the first time in days, I slid behind the wheel of the Focus, and
Jenny settled herself in the passenger seat. The limp dog lay in
her lap, and I knew the outcome was out of our hands. How bad was
the infection? How long had the unfortunate creature suffered? And
what would happen if Jenny lost the only tie to her old life?

Chapter Eleven --

We sat for twenty minutes in the waiting room. A
Great Dane, a Pekinese, and a poodle went into exam rooms ahead of
us with their owners. When we finally were shown into number six,
the assistant weighed Mozzie, marked the new patient chart with the
information, asked a number of questions about vaccinations and the
spaniel’s health history. Luckily, Jenny had kept up with the dog’s
care. She gave the assistant the name of the veterinarian clinic up
near Pelham, so the vets could communicate. She also authorized
Mozzie’s old vet to send the records. The assistant took a look at
the dog’s ragged ear and shook her head sadly. It did not fill me
with confidence that Mozzie was coming home with us tonight.

The vet strode into the room, brimming with
confidence and good cheer. She shook hands with me and with Jenny
before having her assistant hold Mozzie on the table for the exam.
The young woman gently cradled him, but it was clear the dog was
suffering. Going over every body part, the vet said little, other
than offering the occasional grunt here and there. Finally she
stepped away from the table, made some notes in the folder, and
then turned her attention to us.

“I can tell you the pup is in very rough shape. There
are a number of puncture wounds all over the body, several of which
are infected. And we have the situation with the ear. My best
advice is to euthanize the dog and put him out of his misery.”

The howl that came out of the teenager’s mouth
shocked even the vet. We all turned to see Jenny as she lost
consciousness. One moment she was standing next to me, and the
next, she was a crumpled, unconscious figure on the floor.

Ten minutes later, once we had her sitting on the
chair, Mozzie in her lap, I asked the vet to step out for a
conversation.

“Look, Doc, this isn’t your normal situation. This
poor girl just lost her only living relative to cancer two and a
half months ago. Her stepfather just stole her inheritance right
out from under her. And on top of that, she’s right smack dab in
the middle of a criminal case in another state. She has no one and
nothing, save for this little dog. If she loses him, I’m afraid we
may lose her. Is there anything, anything at all that might work to
save Mozzie’s life?”

“She’s an orphan?”

“Yes. She lost her mother and her home. We brought
her to our house because she has nowhere else to go. I’ll pay for
the dog’s care, but please, there must be something you can try to
keep this pooch alive.”

“It won’t be easy,” said Dr. Greenwald. “The flesh is
very infected. The dog will need to have the wounds cleaned daily.
It’s going to be expensive, between the tests, the medications, and
the emergency treatment. If the dog survives and goes home, there’s
still a lot of round-the-clock care needed, which is
time-consuming. You could save some money if you did some of it
yourselves.”

“Whatever it takes,” I promised. “Jenny wants to be a
nurse. She took care of her mother through her hospice stage.”

“The dog will need to stay on the antibiotics. You
can’t miss a dose. We could start him here, at the hospital. And he
needs fluids. He’s quite dehydrated. He needs to gain weight. I
don’t think he’s eaten much lately. He’s all skin and bones.”

“Anything he needs.”

“She’s an orphan?”

“Yes. I’m trying to figure out how to get her in
school. I was going to take her to register next week, and now,
with this, I’m afraid she’ll just give up.” Even as I talked, I
kept trying to figure out how to convince the veterinarian how
important Mozzie was for the teen’s psyche. “Worst of all, we just
found out that her birth mother died when she was two weeks old,
and her aunt posed as her mother. We’re still trying to figure out
how to break that news to her. We’re just overwhelmed here.”

“Like I said, the normal course for a dog this ill is
to put him to sleep. But we’ll give it a try, at least for a couple
of days. If he doesn’t improve, I’m going to lobby hard for the
humane treatment. In the meantime, we’ll do the best we can to keep
him comfortable. We have a fund for uninsured pets. Let me see if
he’s eligible. And tell me something. What bastard did this to the
dog? I’d like to give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“You and me both. The dog was a pawn in a criminal
case, and he was tortured in an effort to make the girl cooperate
with the bad guys. There’s a state trooper, a homicide
investigator, who will check in with you to get the details. You
have my permission to share with her.”

“Okay. Time to get started on making a miracle
happen.”

It took us the better part of five minutes to
convince Jenny that no one was going to put Mozzie to sleep. The
vet gave her a blow-by-blow explanation for the treatment, along
with the gritty details of what to expect if things got worse. The
vet allowed Jen to hold the dog while she cleaned all the wounds
and medicated them. It was a quiet night at the animal hospital, so
Dr. Greenwald allowed us to stay. Jenny sat with Mozzie in an exam
room, hugging him as she sang lullabies and cried.

I tried to talk her into something to eat, but the
teen just wasn’t hungry. I finally convinced her to let me get her
a fruit smoothie on a food run. I ducked out of the facility and
down the road, where I grabbed a burger and coffee. I sat at the
table in the nearly deserted restaurant, watching the occasional
diner wander up to the counter to order. What was I going to do if
Mozzie didn’t make it? Dr. Greenwald was going to give the dog a
massive dose of antibiotics, to try to knock the infection out.
Maybe I should be thinking about what we would do if it did work.
What would it take? The vet said we’d have to work around the
clock. Jenny couldn’t do it alone. I might be able to rope Laurel
and Lacey into helping for a few hours here and there. I had
reservations for all three guest rooms for the next couple of
weeks, so I would be stretched thin. Then again, maybe I could ask
my mother’s cousin, Myrtle, and her daughter, Willow, to help us.
Willow was a nurse and an animal lover. She had already promised to
mentor Jenny in nursing school. Maybe she’d be willing to start
with a little hands-on animal patient care.