The Case of the Jaded Jack Russell Read online

  “No, she left for the restaurant a few minutes ago,” Jill said. “But she said she wanted to talk to you as soon as possible after you got back. Is she doing okay? She’s been in a really weird mood the past few days.”

  “She’ll be fine,” I said, glancing around. “Where are all the house dogs?”

  “Chef Claire fed them up there, then took them outside. I’m sure they’re all dying to see you.”

  “Works for me,” I said, then looked at Josie. “What do you say we head up to the house and say hi to the dogs, then head to C’s?”

  “Sounds great,” Josie said, then looked at Sammy and Jill. “Would you guys mind getting Jack socialized with some of the other dogs before you find a condo for him? He’s going to be a bit disoriented for a day or two. Let’s make sure he knows he’s among friends.”

  “Sure,” Sammy said. “He seems really subdued for a Jack Russell.”

  “Yeah, that’s something we’re going to need to work on with him,” I said. “He’s had a rough go of it.”

  “He hasn’t been abused, has he?” Jill said, frowning.

  “Well, he certainly hasn’t been treated anywhere close to our standards. But he’ll get his spirit back. And thanks again for taking such good care of the place. We’ll see you guys in the morning.”

  We headed up to the house, spent over an hour getting reacquainted with Captain and Chloe and Chef Claire’s Goldens, Al and Dente, then showered and headed for C’s. We entered through the back door that led directly into the kitchen and glanced around for Chef Claire. The skeleton kitchen staff we retained on a year-round basis was dealing with the handful of order slips and not having to break much of a sweat doing it. A staff member saw us and pointed at the chef’s table in the back of the kitchen where Chef Claire was sitting sipping coffee and staring off into space.

  “Hey,” she said, glancing at us when we sat down at the table. “How did the conference finish up?”

  “With lunch at Mandarin,” Josie said.

  “Good call,” Chef Claire said, giving us a half-hearted nod. “I hear that place is amazing.”

  “Are you okay?” I said, making room for a staff member as he approached with a pot of coffee and mugs for us. “Thanks, Carl.” I added creamer and stirred my coffee without taking my eyes off her. “Hello. Earth to Chef Claire.”

  “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head as if clearing away some cobwebs. “Charlie called again today. I’m afraid we may have to rethink the idea of hiring Bobbie.”

  “I think we have a solution to that,” I said.

  I launched into our idea for the dog toy business, and she listened carefully. When I finished, she sat back in her chair sipping her coffee.

  “Bobbie wouldn’t need to move here?” Chef Claire said.

  “No, we’d base the company out of Ottawa,” I said.

  “But why would you include me as a partner?” she said, frowning. “I don’t know anything about running a business like that.”

  “We didn’t know anything about running a restaurant,” Josie said. “But that didn’t stop you from including us as your partners.”

  “Yeah, but this is different,” Chef Claire said.

  “No, it’s not,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Don’t worry, you aren’t going to have to do any of the work. Except for maybe testing out some new toys with Al and Dente. You’ll hear more about it on Monday night when Bobbie joins us for family dinner.”

  “Just her, right?” Chef Claire said, nervously glancing back and forth at us.

  “Of course,” Josie said.

  Chef Claire stared off, jiggling one leg nervously as she drummed her fingers on the table.

  “What on earth did that guy do to you?”

  She made eye contact and continued to stare at us, tight-lipped, for a long time. Then she nodded and slowly began to tell the tale of her experiences with Charlie. Josie and I listened closely and did our best not to interrupt, but we shared several looks of shock and surprise as she recited the history of her ill-fated relationship.

  “When I got out of college, I applied for several engineering jobs, but I kept washing out during the interviews. And I finally realized I was sabotaging myself because I had no desire to be an engineer. So I decided to go to culinary school and ended up in L.A. It was a two-year program, and right after I started, I met Charlie. We connected right away, and since neither one of us had much money, we decided to get a two-bedroom apartment together and share expenses. Within a week, we realized that we weren’t going to need the second bedroom, except for maybe storage. If you get my drift.”

  “Yeah, we got it,” I said, nodding.

  “And it was great at first,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face. “Amazing, actually. He was sweet, attentive, and seemed to be the first guy who really got what I was all about. The first four months were the best I’d ever had with a new guy. But then something happened that changed things in a hurry.” She glanced around the kitchen, decided the staff had everything under control, then continued. “We had a class assignment to prepare a seven-course meal worthy of the British aristocracy,” she said, laughing and shaking her head. “It was something straight out of Downton Abbey. And my assigned partner was this guy from Alabama who was a total goofball and funny as all get out. We were laughing the whole time, and ended up tossing chunks of pastry dough at each other when we were making the Beef Wellington.” She paused and looked at Josie.

  “What?” Josie said, confused.

  “I was expecting a comment from you,” she said, laughing. “Didn’t you hear me say Beef Wellington?”

  “I heard you,” Josie said. “But you refuse to make it, so why I should bother oohing and aahing about something I’m not going to get a chance to eat?”

  “Well, you’re about to find out why I don’t make it anymore,” Chef Claire said. “My partner and I were having a great time, and each course came out perfect, but Charlie just kept glaring at us the whole time.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Turns out, insanely so. To this day, he refuses to call it what it is. He refers to it simply as an overly protective instinct,” Chef Claire said, dismissing the idea with a smirk. “Even though he didn’t say anything, I could tell he was really mad. And after he finished his assignment he left. I assumed he went home, but it turned out he was waiting for the guy outside by his car. And then Charlie jumped him and almost beat him to death. The poor guy was in the hospital for a month, and Charlie almost went to jail. But he got one-year probation.”

  “He beat him up just for having some laughs with you?” I said.

  “Pretty much. That should have been enough for me to call it quits,” Chef Claire said, exhaling loudly. “But being the rescuer I am, I had to hang in there. He promised it wouldn’t happen again, I forgave him, blah, blah, blah…and the wheels on the bus go round and round.”

  “But it happened again, right?” I said.

  “Yes, well, it was sort of the same thing. But not for a year and a half,” she said. “Things changed after the first incident, and we were never quite the same. We stayed together, but, for me, I knew it was just temporary until we finished school. But I never had the guts to tell him that.”

  “That’s probably because you were scared what he might do,” Josie said.

  “Yeah, that’s what I tell myself,” she said, sniffling back emotion. “But that was my big mistake. The longer I stayed with him, the more we argued. And because we always managed to get through it, the more convinced he became that we could survive anything. Instead of working on his control and anger issues, he got worse. And he started to smother me with questions and insinuations. Started following me around every time I hung out with anybody other than him. Even going out for coffee with a couple of girlfriends got to be a problem. Then the second thing happened.”

  Josie and I continued to lean forward hanging on every word.

  “What did he do?” Josie whispered.

  “Just
before we were going to graduate culinary school, two of my girlfriends invited me to join them for a weekend in Vegas to celebrate.”

  “And he followed you there and made a scene?” I said, frowning.

  “Worse. Just before I headed to the airport, he locked me in our bedroom at the apartment. He’d put a special lock on the window, he took my phone, and even put a chain across the door.”

  “Wow,” Josie whispered. “That’s insane.”

  “That’s the word for it,” Chef Claire said, pushing her coffee cup away. “He scared the hell out of me.”

  “I’m sure he did,” Josie said.

  “And I stayed scared for a couple of hours,” she whispered as she stared off into the distance. “Then I got mad.”

  “What did you do?” I said, gripping the table with both hands.

  “I waited,” she said, shrugging. “I figured that he would eventually try to apologize or at least bring me something to eat. And when I heard the chain being removed, I hid behind the door. When he came into the room, he was carrying a tray with both hands, and I slugged him with my softball bat. Man, did I hit him hard.”

  “Nice to see that scholarship didn’t go to waste,” I said, managing a nervous chuckle.

  “Hey, you don’t make all-conference bunting,” she said, laughing. “I caught him on the back of the head, and he went down like he’d been shot. Which he might have been if I’d had a gun. He was out cold, so I took the time to pack a bag, then I called 911 and left.”

  “Then you went to the cops, right?” Josie said.

  “I certainly did. Tried to get him charged with kidnapping, but I had to settle for aggravated assault and felonious restraint. I don’t know how his lawyer did it, but Charlie got off with probation again. But I did get a restraining order on him, which he tried to ignore a couple of times until one of the local cops I knew had a quiet word in his ear about what a good idea leaving L.A. might be. And then he left. And I didn’t hear from him again until about six months ago.”

  “How did he find you?” Josie said.

  “That was my own fault. The culinary school sent out this questionnaire asking alumni to update them on what we were doing. They were doing some big marketing campaign to attract new students and wanted to use some graduates’ stories as part of it. I filled it out and didn’t give it a second thought. Charlie saw it, then called me out of the blue one day.”

  “And told you he was only a hundred miles away,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Yeah, you can imagine how delighted I was to learn that,” Chef Claire said, again drumming her fingers on the table.

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything to us?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. “Besides, what would you be able to do?”

  “Oh, I can think of a lot of things I’d like to do to him,” I said.

  “You got that right,” Josie said. “Do you think you’re in danger?”

  “No, I don’t think Charlie would ever hurt me. But he’s already shown that he’s capable of going after other people he considers a threat,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m certainly not going to take that chance.”

  “We need to call the Chief,” I said. “He’ll help us get a new restraining order just in case he does show up.”

  Chef Claire thought about it, then nodded.

  “Thanks for listening, guys,” she said, managing a small smile. “I actually feel a bit better. So, how is Bobbie doing?”

  “She’s good,” I said. “I like her.”

  “Me too,” Josie said, nodding.

  “Well, it’s a good thing that she doesn’t have to leave Ottawa. Charlie wouldn’t like that at all.”

  “Yes, we noticed,” I said. “He does seem overly protective.”

  “Charlie has a hard time distinguishing friends and family from possessions,” Chef Claire said. “If you’re in his life, he thinks you belong to him.”

  “But you, pardon the pun, knocked that belief out of him, right?” Josie said, grinning.

  “So I thought.”

  Chapter 16

  Deciding that the dog toy business and the prospect that Chef Claire’s persistent and possibly dangerous ex-boyfriend might show up unannounced were more than enough to occupy my neurons, I pushed aside all the nagging questions about who might have killed Joshua Middleton and relegated them to my I’ll deal with that later file.

  I’d reread Bobbie’s business plan several times and was still confused about why all of the banks she’d met with had turned her down. The pet service industry, of which dogs comprise the largest percentage, totals in the billions and is growing annually at a healthy clip. Sure, the dog toy business was a start-up, always a risky proposition for any lender, but the numbers and her strategy looked rock solid to me. And I’d seen other new companies get loans for ventures that didn’t come close to the upside potential of Wags. But I was certainly no expert, and I wanted a second opinion, so I gave a copy of the business plan to the one person whose opinion I valued above all others when it came to making money.

  But if you breathe a word to my mother I said that I’ll vigorously deny it.

  I was in my office handling some paperwork when she strolled in wearing a stylish winter coat over a sand-colored cashmere sweater and a pair of Horse-Hound tweed pants that fit like they’d been tailored specifically for her.

  Which they probably were.

  Regardless, she looked amazing and made me feel like a slob who’d fallen out of bed into a pair of old sweatpants and a wrinkled long-sleeved men’s shirt that was four sizes too large.

  Which I had.

  She tossed the business plan on my desk, cast a disapproving glance at what I was wearing, then removed her coat and sat down on the couch. Chloe clamored out from under the desk and hopped up next to her.

  “Can you believe it’s starting to snow?” she said, shaking her head as she glanced out the window. “It’s not even Thanksgiving.”

  “We’ll be in the Caymans before you know it, Mom,” I said, glancing out at the snowflakes drifting in the breeze. Instead of the sense of dread I felt most years at the onset of winter, I smiled as I watched the snow fall knowing that I’d be spending the worst winter months surrounded by white sand instead of mountainous snow banks. And ice and slush. And winds out of the north that took your breath away and froze your lungs if you weren’t careful. I could almost feel the hot sun baking my body and a cold umbrella drink in my hand. I returned to the present and nodded at the business case. “What do you think?”

  “I’m very surprised the banks weren’t interested,” she said, scratching Chloe’s ears.

  “So, it is good, right?”

  “Yes, it’s really good. And if you and the girls are looking for another partner, I suppose I could be coaxed into tagging along on this one,” she said, giving me the crocodile smile she reserved for everyone who approached her with possible business opportunities.

  “Would you be satisfied playing a completely passive role?”

  “You know me better than that, darling,” she said, laughing.

  “Well, there’s your answer,” I said. “What would you do if you were me?”

  “You have a couple of options,” she said, draping one leg over the other. “You could just write a check and be done with it, but that’s never a good way to go. Remember rule number one?”

  “Always try to use other people’s money,” I said, nodding.

  “Exactly. And since you’ll be setting it up as a Canadian company, you should establish a solid relationship with at least one bank over there. You never know when it might come in handy.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense,” I said, fiddling with my pen. “I thought that I might meet with one or two of the banks that already turned the loan down.”

  My mother gave me an odd smile.

  “What is it?”

  “I need to hear a bit more about why you’d meet with someone w
ho has already said no,” she said, her eyes dancing. “But I think I’m proud of you.”

  “You got a weird way of showing it,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Humor me.”

  “I want to see it for myself. I want to watch the expression on the banker’s faces when they tell me no,” I said. “And if any of them say yes, I want to know why the answer changed. Maybe they said no just because they weren’t comfortable with Bobbie. Or maybe she said or did something they didn’t like. And who knows, maybe they’ll like the fact that we refused to take no for an answer.”

  “You’re saying you just want to understand why,” she said, smiling.

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Well done, darling.”

  “If you say so, Mom.”

  “I’ve always found the who, what, where and when to be the easy part,” she said by way of explanation. “But getting to the why takes you to the core of most problems. That’s where the motives live.”

  “The motives live in the why?”

  “Yes, they do.”

  “You should put that on a tee shirt.”

  “Why would I do that, darling?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Funny, Mom,” I said. “So, you think I should take another shot at the loan from a couple of the banks that already turned it down?”

  “I do. But go alone. If they do have a problem with this woman, Bobbie, it might be hard for them to get to yes with her in the room. In fact, if you can handle telling a little white lie, you might want to infer that you’ve bought the rights to the idea from her and now have a controlling interest in the company. If you get a different answer than Bobbie did, that might tell you a lot.”

  “Interesting,” I said, nodding. “I guess I can handle that.”

  “But under no circumstances do you let them know that you could easily write a check to fund it,” she said. “If you want to get an honest reaction out of them, do your best to come across as a struggling entrepreneur who’s just trying to catch a break. Wear your lumberjack outfit. That should do the trick.”