The Case of the Faithful Frenchie

  The Case of the

  Faithful Frenchie

  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 © 2017 B.R. Snow

  ISBN: 978-1-942691-12-9

  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 Damaged Po$$e Series

  American Midnight

  Larrikin Gene

  Sneaker World

  Summerman

  The Duplicates

  Other books

  Divorce Hotel

  Either Ore

  To Laurie

  You’re beyond compare

  Chapter 1

  The smells coming from the grill were almost enough to distract me from the amazing scene that was playing out in front of us on the two-acre play area that extended off the back of the Thousand Islands Doggy Inn. But despite the mouth-watering aroma of chicken, burgers, and Italian sausage and peppers sizzling nearby, I couldn’t take my eyes off the grassed lawn. I found myself getting choked up with pride as I followed the action. Josie noticed the tears forming in the corner of my eyes and handed me a tissue with a big grin on her face.

  “I told you all that work with her would pay off,” Josie said.

  “I’m not sure how much I did,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I think it comes naturally to her.”

  We continued to watch as Chloe, my gorgeous Australian Shepherd, herded close to fifty dogs between two long strips of yellow police tape about thirty feet apart. The dogs, two to a row, were slowly walking forward while keeping a close eye on Chloe who was barking commands and making sure they stayed between the yellow lines.

  “Watch this,” I said, leaning forward in my lawn chair.

  Chloe trotted to the end of the yellow tape where it made a ninety-degree turn. The two dogs in the front row consisted of Captain, Josie’s Newfoundland, and Tiny, the Great Dane who’d been one of our permanent residents for three years, and they followed Chloe’s directions and made the sharp right-hand turn. All the other dogs followed suit, and Chloe trotted next to the trail of dogs for a few hundred feet until the yellow lines indicated another ninety-degree turn. Again, Captain and Tiny followed Chloe’s instructions, and soon the entire collection of dogs of all shapes, size, and breed were walking back toward us.

  “Amazing,” Josie said, laughing. “Well, since Chloe was bred to herd thousands of sheep, I guess it shouldn’t surprise us that she can handle fifty dogs.”

  “Yes, but how did she learn to keep them between the lines?” I said.

  “Because you taught her how to do it,” Josie said, getting up out of her chair.

  I did the same, and we made our way to the edge of the yellow tape and waited for the dogs to complete the route. I knelt down to hug Chloe, and she gave me a quick kiss then barked. She was ready to take all the dogs through the route a second time, but I scooped her up in my arms and hugged her.

  “Let’s say we take a break, Chloe,” I said, setting her back down on the ground. “Why don’t you take the gang to the water trough?”

  Chloe barked and began shepherding all the dogs in the direction of the water trough that ran along the back exterior wall of the Inn. I watched them go, still shaking my head in amazement.

  “She’s so smart,” I said.

  “She’s scary smart,” Josie said.

  During our training sessions, I’d come up with the term gang to designate the entire population of dogs at the Inn. It had taken Chloe some time to understand the reference and make the mental connection, but once she got it, she hadn’t forgotten it. Now, we needed to be careful using the word gang around the Inn since Chloe sprang into action as soon as she heard the term. I watched the long line of dogs, supervised by Chloe, take long drinks from the water trough. When they finished, many of the dogs stretched out on the grass to enjoy the warm sun.

  “Look at that,” Josie said. “It’s like they’re actually on a work break.”

  By now you’re probably wondering why an adult woman would spend weeks training her dog to herd fifty others up and down through a defined route marked by yellow police tape. During the earlier stages of the training, I often found myself wondering the same thing. The effort had begun as a simple exercise to prove a point to my mother. But it had evolved into a personal mission - Josie likes to refer to it as an obsession – and as some of you are probably already aware when I get fixated on something, it tends to become a major focus on my part.

  Major focus? Obsession?

  Tomato, tomahto.

  Regardless of what you want to call it, Chloe had mastered the training, and I couldn’t wait to show my mother the results of our work. But before you get the idea that I had trained Chloe just to prove a point, there was a method to my madness.

  Each year, our little town of Clay Bay presents the Parade of Pirates, a multi-day celebration full of events designed to remember and honor our area’s somewhat infamous past that includes a fascinating mixture of pirates and patriots, renegades and reprobates, and well-organized bands of smugglers and bootleggers. But it’s the swashbuckler angle that forms the basis of our annual Parade of Pirates.

  Though it’s primarily part of Canada’s history, our town, along with the rest of Northern New York, played an active role in the Patriot War during the 1830s. The war was a major component of Canada’s ongoing efforts to gain independence from Great Britain, and I’ve always found it to be an interesting period of local history. Over the years, it has been romanticized and, ultimately, monetized through the creation of events like our Parade of Pirates that both locals and thousands of tourists enjoy and look forward to annually.

  The hero and focal point of our annual celebration is Bill Johnston, a renegade - or pirate if you prefer – who blew up a British steamer, then hid among the 1000 Islands to avoid capture by authorities on both sides of the River. While we don’t actually blow up and sink any vessels, our town leaders have done a great job over the years creating a reenactment of a pirate invasion. And the highlight of our Parade of Pirates festivities is the arrival of a vintage fleet of pirate vessels, complete with cannon fire, and hordes of costumed pirates who take over the town soon after their arrival.

  It’s a lot of fun, sort of like a multi-day costume party filled with food and drink and fireworks. But like all good tourist attractions, our town leaders are always on the lookout for additional activities that can enhance and extend the festivities. Over the years, we’ve added live music, food and wine tasting, children’s events like face painting and pony rides, and a host of others that can be transformed into pirate-themed activities with t
he simple addition of Jolly Roger hats and a bunch of people walking around saying Aaaarrrrgggghhhh.

  Recently my mother was selected by the Town Council to serve out the remaining term of our former mayor who was about to go on trial for murder. It’s her second term as our mayor, a post she hated but performed well during her first time in office. Her second go around has seemed to heighten her distaste for the position, but she continues to take it seriously. And as mayor, her responsibilities for making sure this year’s version of the Parade of Pirates is successful and goes off without a hitch are deep and wide.

  In preparation for this year’s event, my mother, undoubtedly as retaliation for our constant needling about her being back in office, selected us as new members of the planning committee. And while I had now learned my lesson about making too many wisecracks about her position in her presence, I had learned it too late. And Josie and I had been forced to sit through a multitude of lengthy meetings debating, often in mind-numbing detail, a variety of mundane items and tasks. Items such as the right shade of black for this year’s banners and cocktail napkins, how much to pay for the Jolly Roger hats everyone would be expected to wear, and ongoing town issues like parking and the temporary waiving of open container restrictions.

  And when the question of additional activities had come up, my mother had suggested that Josie and I should figure out some way to get our dogs involved. We’d come up with the Parade of Dogs idea soon after that, and since then I’d been determined to prove to my mother that our dogs, under the direction of Chloe, could navigate the mile-long parade route without the benefit of either leashes or human handlers. That issue had been a major and often heated topic of debate for weeks. But my mother had held firm, and we’d been forced to amend our plans by incorporating local schoolkids in the parade. Each kid would be responsible for one dog. And each dog, per my mother’s adamant instructions, would be on a leash. I’d finally relented but was going ahead with my plan to demonstrate to her just how wrong she was.

  As such, I checked my watch again and wondered what was keeping her.

  “That smells incredible,” Josie said, glancing over at the barbecue where Sammy was continuing to grill copious amounts of food.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I said. “We’ll eat after all the kids get here.”

  “Fine,” Josie said, folding her arms across her chest. Then she glanced out at the driveway. “There she is.”

  “Fashionably late,” I said. “What a surprise.”

  My mother waved as she hopped down from her new vehicle, a black German SUV with tinted windows she’d picked up soon after she’d taken office. She said that the tinted windows were to keep the sunlight out, but I was pretty sure she merely wanted to preserve whatever shred of personal privacy that remained. Being the mayor of a small town wasn’t necessarily a public office that came with a lot of trappings, but it certainly did attract the attention of local residents. And the ongoing issues associated with traffic and noise, zoning, and garbage collection were already testing her patience.

  I watched her stroll across the lawn, and she seemed tired. But she looked great, and she smiled and waved again at us as she got closer.

  “Hello, darling,” she said, frowning as she noticed the yellow police tape. “Have I stumbled on another crime scene?”

  “Funny, Mom. No, I just thought I’d try one more time to convince you.”

  “Not this again, darling. I’ve got a to-do list a mile long, and I really don’t want to have that conversation again.”

  “All you have to do is sit and watch what I’m about to show you.”

  I whistled sharply once. Chloe immediately cocked her head and stared at me.

  “Get the gang, Chloe. Yellow tape.”

  Chloe immediately started to herd the dogs into place behind Captain and Tiny. Soon, a long line of dogs had formed, and I whistled again. Chloe began herding the dogs between the two lines of tape.

  “Isn’t that amazing, Mom?”

  “That’s actually quite impressive, darling,” my mother said, nodding.

  We watched in silence as Chloe urged the dogs through the tape that resembled the route they would take during the parade. When the dogs executed the first ninety-degree turn to perfection, my mother laughed and smiled at me.

  “Well done, darling. Should I ask how many hours it took you to teach Chloe how to do that?”

  “Only a couple,” I said, shrugging.

  Josie snorted but didn’t comment after she caught the glare I was giving her.

  All three of us glanced out at the play area where Chloe was barking commands at the large collection of dogs. They executed the second turn and headed back toward us.

  “You know, Mrs. C. I understand your concerns,” Josie said. “But I’m not sure we need to have them on leashes.”

  “Oh, they’ll be on leashes all right,” my mother said, continuing to stare out at the dogs. “All the town needs is for one of your dogs to bite a tourist. After all the recent events, the last thing we need is a lawsuit.”

  I knew she was referring to the recent rash of murders the town had been experiencing, but she and the town council had made the conscious decision to refer to them as the recent events. There was no sense scaring the tourists if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.

  “Mom, if one of our dogs did happen to bite somebody, I’m sure they would have deserved it.”

  “Yes, darling. I’m sure they would,” she said, yawning. “But I really don’t feel like trying to win that argument with a bunch of lawyers.”

  She gave me the look that said end of discussion, and I let it go.

  “What’s the meaning of all the food?” my mother said. “Even you two couldn’t come close to eating all that.”

  “All the kids who volunteered to be dog walkers are coming by for a practice session. We thought the least we could do was feed them.”

  “That’s very sweet, darling. Now don’t forget, you’ll all need to be in the parking lot near the town dock by two. The dog parade starts at 2:30 sharp.”

  “Yes, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes at Josie. “So you’ve said at least a dozen times.”

  “Don’t get snarky, darling. You’re the one who came up with the parade idea in the first place. And you were also the one who insisted we do it in the afternoon of Day Two.”

  “Well, we can’t do it around the time of the pirate invasion. All that cannon and musket fire would scare the dogs to death. And we can’t do it right before the fireworks for the same reason.”

  “Yes, I know all of that, darling. That’s why we decided to do it on Day Two.”

  “No, Mom. Josie and I decided it should be on the second day. You agreed just so you’d have another event to keep people in town and get them into the shops and bars and restaurants.

  “Nonsense, darling. I would never agree to anything that might upset your dogs,” my mother said, casually waving off the notion.

  “Mom, we were at the planning meetings, remember?”

  “Be that as it may, darling, your dogs are going to be the featured attractions. I would have thought you’d be happy about that,” my mother, her voice rising a notch.

  “I’m delighted, Mom. All I did was point out the simple fact about why we’re having the parade when we are.”

  My mother removed her sunglasses and cleaned the lenses with a handkerchief. In the process, she also managed to give me another of her patented looks. This one fell somewhere between you’re wasting my time and why are you being so difficult. It was one of her best.

  “It seems like a minor distinction, darling. But if you feel compelled to disagree, so be it,” she said, putting her sunglasses back on.

  “Mom, why do I feel like I’ve taken a beating even after I’ve won an argument with you?

  “You didn’t win anything, darling. At best, I might consider calling it a draw. But it’s better than most people do,” she said, winking at me.

  Then she was startled
when Captain came up behind her chair and nuzzled her arm to say hello. Not normally a dog person, she had developed a soft spot for Josie’s Newfie who had recently hit one hundred pounds and was still growing. My mother reached down and rubbed the massive dog’s head with both hands.

  “What on earth is that thing Captain has around his neck?

  “It’s a keg of rum,” Josie said, laughing. “Yo, ho, ho and all that, right?”

  “Nice touch,” my mother said, laughing along. “I’ll probably need a few belts from that myself. You mentioned something about a raffle?”

  “Yeah, we came up with the idea the other night. We were looking for another way to promote our rescue program, so we’ll be selling tickets, just like you would at a racetrack. Before the parade, people will be able to get a good look at all the dogs in the parking lot, and each dog will be wearing a number. People who buy tickets will be able to select Win, Place, and Show. And everyone at the parade will be given a ballot to vote on their favorite three dogs. And we’ll split the money across all the winning tickets.”

  “So it’s a fundraiser. How much do you expect to make?”

  Josie and I glanced at each other and shrugged.

  “Nothing. We’re going to award all the money,” I said. “The main thing is that a couple thousand people will have the chance to see all the dogs. We’re hoping for at least a dozen adoptions.”

  “It sounds wonderful, darling,” she said, turning toward Josie. “And will we see you at the parade, dear?”

  Josie frowned.

  “Of course, Mrs. C. Why wouldn’t I be there?”

  “Well, since you and Summerman have become quite the item, I thought the two of you might be otherwise preoccupied.”

  Josie turned a shade of crimson I hadn’t seen before, and I started laughing along with my mother. Josie found it less than funny. Josie’s new boyfriend was a famous musician who owned an island in the area and often spent time here during the summer. He and Josie had met briefly at the end of last summer but had reconnected this year when Summerman returned. Josie had been without a boyfriend for quite a while and was certainly doing everything she could to make up for lost time.