The Case of the Valiant Vizsla

  The Case of the

  Valiant Vizsla

  A Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Mystery

  B.R. Snow

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either used fictitiously or are the product of the author’s imagination. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written consent of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and punishable by law.

  Copyright © 2019 B.R. Snow

  ISBN: 978-1-942691-59-4

  Website: www.brsnow.net/

  Twitter: @BernSnow

  Facebook: facebook.com/bernsnow

  Cover Design: Reggie Cullen

  Cover Photo: James R. Miller

  Other Books by B.R. Snow

  The Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Mysteries

  The Case of the Abandoned Aussie

  The Case of the Brokenhearted Bulldog

  The Case of the Caged Cockers

  The Case of the Dapper Dandie Dinmont

  The Case of the Eccentric Elkhound

  The Case of the Faithful Frenchie

  The Case of the Graceful Goldens

  The Case of the Hurricane Hounds

  The Case of the Itinerant Ibizan

  The Case of the Jaded Jack Russell

  The Case of the Klutz King Charles

  The Case of the Lovable Labs

  The Case of the Mellow Maltese

  The Case of the Natty Newfie

  The Case of the Overdue Otterhound

  The Case of the Prescient Poodle

  The Case of the Quizzical Queens Beagle

  The Case of the Reliable Russian Spaniels

  The Case of the Salubrious Soft Coated Wheaten

  The Case of Italian Indigestion (A Josie and Chef Claire Sojourn)

  The Case of the Tenacious Tibetan

  The Case of the Unfettered Utonagan

  The Whiskey Run Chronicles

  Episode 1 – The Dry Season Approaches

  Episode 2 – Friends and Enemies

  Episode 3 – Let the Games Begin

  Episode 4 – Enter the Revenuer

  Episode 5 – A Changing Landscape

  Episode 6 – Entrepreneurial Spirits

  Episode 7 – All Hands On Deck

  The Whiskey Run Chronicles – The Complete Volume 1

  The Whiskey Run Chronicles – The Complete Volume 2

  The Damaged Posse

  American Midnight

  Larrikin Gene

  Sneaker World

  Summerman

  The Duplicates

  Other Books

  Divorce Hotel

  Either Ore

  To Dianne

  For proving it’s never too late for the dream

  Chapter 1

  I tucked Max under my arm and stifled a laugh as I watched the dogs watch Josie and Chef Claire spread a blanket out on the carpet then arrange four throw pillows in a circle on the outer edge. The dogs appeared to be supervising, and when they believed Josie and Chef Claire were done, glanced up at me with an expectant look. Max kicked her legs and held her arms out.

  “I think everyone’s ready,” Josie said, laughing as she looked back and forth at Max and the dogs.

  “We’ve created a monster,” I said, shaking my head as I knelt down and gently placed Max on the blanket.

  I sat down on the edge of the couch and watched the dogs take up their now normal positions. As if they were performing some sort of land-based, synchronized swimming move, the dogs stretched out and placed their heads on the pillows inches away from my daughter. Soon, Max was surrounded on all four sides by the dogs, and I couldn’t miss the look of sheer joy on her face as she reached out with one hand and placed it on Captain’s nose. The Newfie licked her tiny hand, and Max giggled with delight before managing to roll over and come face to face with Chloe, my Aussie Shepherd. Chloe nuzzled Max’s hand as her tail ticked like a metronome.

  Then Max did something that caught us by surprise. Using both arms for support, she pushed herself into a sitting position. When she realized what she had done, she giggled again and kicked her legs against the carpet.

  “Wow,” I said, staring at my four-month-old daughter. “I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Me either,” Chef Claire said, sitting down next to me. “Isn’t it a bit early for her to be sitting up on her own?”

  “They say it’s anywhere between four and seven months,” I said with a shrug.

  “I told you she was an overachiever,” Josie said.

  Max wobbled then toppled forward and spent a few moments dealing with her facedown predicament. I immediately reacted and was about to insert myself when Max slowly pushed herself back into an upright position. Al and Dente, Chef Claire’s Goldens, inched forward on the carpet and each licked one of Max’s feet. That produced a round of giggles and she glanced around as if seeing the room for the first time.

  “Strong kid,” Chef Claire said.

  “And smart,” Josie said, then deadpanned. “I wonder who she gets that from.”

  “Funny,” I said, making a face at her. “You know what this means?”

  “That she’ll be crawling before we know it?” Chef Claire said.

  “Yeah,” I said, studying my daughter’s face as she looked around at all four dogs who were watching her closely and vying for attention. “They’re so good with her.”

  “It’s pretty amazing,” Josie said. “But they’ve been that way since the day you brought her home.”

  We all stifled laughs as Max again started to fall forward but stopped herself by leaning backward. Then she toppled and landed on her back, blinked several times, then yawned, apparently worn out from the effort.

  “She’s already tuckered herself out,” Chef Claire said.

  “Well, we definitely know who she gets that from,” Josie said with a grin.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” I said.

  “Not until ten,” Josie said.

  “That reminds me,” Chef Claire said. “We need to get another workout scheduled.”

  “Geez, Chef Claire,” I said. “When I said I wanted to get in shape, I wasn’t talking about Navy Seal shape.”

  “Just wait until we start working with weights,” Chef Claire said, enjoying her comment way too much for my liking.

  “You never said anything about weights.”

  “Oh, did I forget to mention that?”

  “Unbelievable.”

  We heard a knock on the kitchen door followed by the sound of it opening. Moments later, my mother entered the living room and beamed at her granddaughter.

  “There she is,” my mother said, kneeling down next to Captain. She stroked the Newfie’s head then leaned forward and picked Max up. “How’s my girl today?”

  “She just sat up on her own,” I said, making room on the couch.

  “Really? And I missed it?”

  “I’m sure she’ll do it again, Mom. You’re early. I thought you were finishing up some stuff with the Arts Festival this morning.”

  “I’m done,” she said. “It’s called the power of delegation.”

  “Since when do you delegate?”

  “Let’s see,” she said, stroking Max’s head. “It’s been about four months now.” Then she cooed to her granddaughter. “Did you sit up all by yourself before Grandma could get here?” Then she focused on me. “I have some exciting news for you, darling.”

  “Always a good way to start the day. Lay it on me, Mom.”

  “Dianne Harman has confirmed.”

  “Really?” I said, both surprised and delighted.

  “Yes. She called this morning and said she was able to free up some time,” my mother said.

  “That’s fantastic. I didn’t think she was going to be able to make it,” I said. “I mean, why would someone that famous take time out of her schedule to speak at a lowly arts festival?”

  “I beg your pardon?” my mother said, raising an eyebrow at me. “Lowly?”

  “No offense, Mom,” I said, backpedaling. “But you must admit, it was a longshot getting her to come.”

  “Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “But she’s in Montreal at the moment. And I promised we’d take her fishing.”

  “She likes to fish?”

  “Apparently,” my mother said.

  “It’s been a while since she put a new book out,” I said.

  “Maybe she’s dealing with writer’s block,” Chef Claire said.

  “Or she’s just tired,” Josie said. “How many books does she have out?”

  “It has to be close to fifty,” I said.

  “She writes them faster than I can read them,” Josie said. “Or at least she used to.”

  “Well, whatever the reason is,” my mother said. “Dianne said she decided to come when she realized I was your mother.”

  “What?” I said, confused.

  “She wants to meet you. Apparently, she’s heard about your crime-solving abilities.”

  “Where the heck did she hear that?”

  “It turns out she’s the aunt of a certain FBI agent,” my mother said.

  “Agent Tompkins?”
r />   “That’s the one,” my mother said, gently rocking the now dozing Max in her arms. “We had a lovely chat. And I promised her you would take her fishing.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, darling. You. You haven’t been out on the River all summer. It’s time.”

  “Great idea, Mrs. C.,” Chef Claire said. “She’s developing a serious case of cabin fever.”

  “Geez, I don’t know,” I said, staring at Max.

  “Max will be just fine with Grandma for the day,” my mother said. “And spending some time on the River with one of your heroes is just what you need.”

  I gave the idea some thought, then nodded.

  “A day on the River does sound good. When does she get in?”

  “Tomorrow,” my mother said. “You’re meeting her and her publisher for lunch at the restaurant. But you’ll need to eat on the verandah.”

  “Why’s that?” Josie said.

  “Because she’s bringing her dog with her,” my mother said.

  “Cool,” Josie said. “What kind of dog does she have?”

  “A Vizsla,” I said, then caught the looks they were giving me. “The dog is all over her website.”

  “They’re gorgeous,” Chef Claire said. “Hungarian hunting dog, right?”

  “That’s the one,” Josie said. “They’re really smart. And very trainable. As long as the owner is willing to put the work in.”

  “And they develop incredible bonds with their owners,” I said.

  “Even more than these guys?” Chef Claire said, nodding at the house dogs who were all sound asleep with their heads on the pillows.

  “Yeah, as hard as that is to believe,” Josie said, then frowned. “I think someone needs a change.”

  “Yes, I just noticed,” my mother said.

  “Here, I’ll take care of her,” Josie said, reaching for Max.

  “Are you sure?” I said.

  “Yeah, just sit there and relax,” Josie said. “You can start working on all the questions you’re going to torment the poor woman with.”

  “I don’t torment…I inquire.”

  “Maybe she’ll make you a character in one of her books,” Claire said.

  “That would be cool,” I said, nodding.

  “Geez, Max,” Josie said, heading down the hall. “How does such a little thing like you manage to produce something like that?”

  “She gets that from her mother.”

  “Funny, Mom.”

  Chapter 2

  The restaurant, like the rest of Clay Bay, was overflowing with people. Josie and I climbed the steps that led to the wraparound verandah, and I paused on the top step to take in the sights. Most of the downtown streets were lined with popup canvas tents that served as temporary homes for dozens of painters, woodworkers and craft artisans. Other booths were occupied by a wide variety of food vendors and the sights and smells produced a smile that remained frozen in place.

  “When your mom decides to put on an event she doesn’t miss much,” Josie said as she glanced around. “Great turnout.”

  “Yeah, she’ll be happy with this,” I said, taking a final look around before turning my attention to the diners on the verandah. “Are you sure she’s going to be okay handling Max by herself?”

  “I like her chances,” Josie said, gently punching me on the shoulder. “She survived raising you, didn’t she?”

  “Funny.”

  “Remind me to pick up a sausage and pepper sandwich before we head home.”

  “Shouldn’t you wait until after you’ve had lunch before you decide you want more to eat?”

  “I’m skipping dessert,” Josie said. “C’mon, let’s find our table. I’m starving.”

  I followed her through the maze of tables, pausing several times to wave and chat briefly with friends I hadn’t seen in a while and happily answered all questions about how the baby was doing. Then I spotted a woman casually sampling from a tray of appetizers and sipping wine as she chatted with her companions.

  “That’s her,” I said, nudging Josie and nodding in the direction of the table. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Let’s try to keep the fan-girl stuff to a minimum, huh?”

  I waved her comment away and made a beeline for the table. As I approached, the woman glanced up at me and smiled. She brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and adjusted the silk blouse she was wearing. Her casual elegance and piercing stare immediately reminded me of my mother.

  “Suzy?” she said, getting to her feet.

  “That’s me,” I said, extending my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Harman.”

  “Oh, please. We’ll get along so much better if you call me Dianne.”

  “Dianne it is,” I said. “This is Josie.”

  “The famous vet,” Dianne said, nodding. “I’ve heard so much about your work.”

  We both frowned at the comment and glanced at each other.

  “From your mother, primarily.”

  “Don’t believe a word she says,” I deadpanned. “She drinks.”

  “I’d love to stop by and see all your dogs,” she said. “Your Doggy Inn sounds amazing.”

  “Sure, we’d love to give you a tour,” I said, then spotted something draped across the writer’s lap. “Speaking of dogs, who do we have here?”

  I headed for the other side of the table and slowly extended my arm in the dog’s direction. She was about sixty pounds and a gorgeous reddish brown from head to toe. After studying Dianne’s reaction to our arrival, the dog sniffed my hand, glanced up at her owner then gently licked my hand. I responded by scratching the dog’s head and ears. Josie followed suit and we took our time getting acquainted with the animal.

  “She’s gorgeous,” I said. “Vizsla, right?”

  “Very good,” Dianne said, nodding. “You know your dogs.”

  “Well, she’s all over your website,” I said. “And we rescued one a couple of years ago.” I turned to Josie who was still focused on the dog. “That sounds right, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Josie said as she got to her feet. “Two summers ago. The dog bonded with Sammy. Stuck to him like glue.”

  “They do form strong bonds with their owners,” Dianne said, then laughed as the dog inched even closer to her chair. “As you can see.”

  “What her name?” Josie said.

  “Velcro.”

  We both laughed at the name, and I made a beeline for the chair next to the writer. Josie shook her head at me.

  “Unbelievable,” she said. “Behave yourself.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, reaching for the bread and offering it to her. I took a piece and settled into my seat as I looked around. “Hi, everyone. Welcome to Clay Bay. I’m Suzy.”

  “Yes, I believe introductions are in order,” Dianne said. “This is Suzy and Josie. They’re two of the owners of the restaurant. And they run the Doggy Inn I was telling you about. I can’t wait to see it.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Josie said, beaming at everyone before dredging her bread through olive oil.

  “A pleasure,” I said, nodding in agreement.

  “Starting at the end of the table to my left is Joshua Jenkins,” Dianne said. “He’s a gifted mystery writer.”

  “Oh, I’ve read some of your stuff,” I said, studying him. He was wearing jeans and a tee shirt and had a salt and pepper ponytail that ended halfway down his back. I found his books a bit predictable and syrupy, but this wasn’t the time or place to mention it. “You’re pretty good.”

  “Thank you,” he said, nodding. “I’m here to promote my new book, so please stop by my booth at some point.”

  “Oh, I’ll be there,” I said, then focused on the woman sitting next to him.

  “This is Selma Blankenship,” Dianne continued. “My publisher.”

  “Mine too,” Joshua said, raising his glass in salute.

  Self-assured and alert, Selma casually raised her wine glass in my direction then took a long sip. I pegged her image as corporate-cool which probably came in handy dealing with the demands of the publishing business as well as handling temperamental authors.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Selma said. “On my right is Imelda Enconi. She’s my most trusted staffer. My go-to person whenever I need something done. Without her, not much would get done at Blankenship Publishing.”