The Case of the Eccentric Elkhound Page 19

  Two days later, I heard her use a lot of the same language after the Town Council had called an emergency meeting and unanimously elected her to finish out the last two years of Howard’s term as mayor. It was a position she had previously held and hated, but she had taken her responsibilities seriously and done a good job. But she’d been miserable the entire time, and I doubted if her second term in office would be any different.

  I’d fought back a chuckle when she’d stopped by the house to tell us the news. I congratulated her and immediately started to prepare myself for two years of what I knew would be marked by long periods of extreme crankiness and severe mood swings.

  And who knew how my mother would react.

  The entire town was in shock after the news about Howard spread like wildfire. For a week, it was the main topic of conversation in every store, bar, and restaurant, our place included. But eventually, things settled down as the season really got rolling, and the summer residents and tourists arrived in droves and helped take our minds off the question of how our longtime friend and mayor could have so quickly gone off the rails.

  As for Howard, he was refused bail and is currently sitting in jail awaiting trial and waiting for his broken wrist to mend.

  Except for Rocco, the Calducci cast of characters has all left the area to return home, and I imagine sort out how they’re going to handle things now that their patriarch is gone. Dot and Pee Wee were still together the last time I saw them. They stopped by for lunch at C’s, and Dot was already half-hammered, and Pee Wee was his usual protective self. It seems to be a bizarre relationship, but, given my track record on that front, who am I to judge?

  Rocco continues to do a great job behind the bar, and Chef Claire has decided to remain with Josie and me at the house. As such, Rocco was more than happy to accept our offer to rent the vacant apartment above the restaurant that was originally earmarked for Chef Claire. We were also pleased when Rocco expressed his interest in adopting Oslo. Rocco has turned out to be a total dog person, and the two are inseparable.

  We were delighted when Chef Claire decided to stay at the house, and dogs now officially outnumber the people living there four to three. But the two Golden puppies are amazing. Al and Dente – the names still crack me up every time I hear them - quickly bonded with both Chloe and Captain and having all four of them in the same room when their energy is up makes them quite the handful. Each night, Chef Claire sleeps with a puppy on either side of her, and she’s happy to report that all three of them are sleeping very well. But she still hasn’t been able to have the conversation with either Freddie or Jackson, and I’m beginning to wonder if she’ll ever find the courage to tell her two good friends thanks, but no thanks. For their part, Freddie and Jackson are still basking in the glow of the total home run they both hit with their birthday presents, and they don’t seem too concerned about having that particular conversation.

  I guess when you already know the answer, why bother forcing the question?

  Jackson’s parents are making final arrangements for their pending departure, and the divorce papers have been submitted. Jackson has a huge decision to make and not much time to make it. The choice between being our chief of police or spending the rest of his life running a grocery store is stark. And the only advice I had for him when he asked me the other day what he should do was to find the one thing he loved doing more than anything else and then do it for the rest of his life.

  This is an area where I think I have something to offer since I’m doing the one thing I love more than anything. And I certainly don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

  Part of that life includes fishing during bass season. The other day I’d gotten a tip from a local fishing guide about a rock shelf near an island about a half-hour boat ride from the Inn. The shelf extends offshore about thirty feet below the water and apparently is a favorite spot for smallmouth as they wait for the deeper sections of the River to warm up a bit. According to the guide, the bass are ravenous early in the morning, but one has to get there before the sun comes up.

  And so it came to pass that Josie and I found ourselves catching and releasing bass after bass as the sun slowly came up over the horizon. We’d gotten up so early that even Chloe and Captain had decided to stay home. Chloe had slowly opened one eye when I turned on the bedroom light at five, then had snorted and gone right back to sleep. According to Josie, Captain hadn’t even bothered to open his eyes.

  I put my fishing rod in its holder and refilled our coffee mugs. I sat down and stretched out and gazed out over the River. I waved to the fishing guide who was about two hundred yards away and his clients for the day seemed to be catching as many fish as we were.

  “It’s going to be a beautiful day,” I said, reaching for a doughnut.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I wake up,” Josie said, laughing. “Man, it’s early. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

  “All I had to say was that we’d be going past Summerman’s island,” I said, glancing over at her.

  “That had nothing to do with it,” she said. “You just caught me in a weak moment.”

  “Sure. Summerman did say he’d be back in the area on the first day of summer, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And if I’m not mistaken, this is officially the first day of summer, right?” I said.

  “It is.”

  “Then why don’t we just swing by his island on our way back and see if he’s around?”

  “I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Josie said. “You know, do the neighborly thing and welcome him back.”

  I laughed. Josie had been waiting for Summerman to get back into town since the time she had met him last fall on the day he was leaving. To say the least, she was smitten.

  “I think I’m a bit fished out,” Josie said.

  “Wow, you are in a hurry to find out if he’s around. The sun’s barely up.”

  “No, I’ve just had enough fishing for one day,” she said, lying through her teeth. “And this catch and release still has me wondering at times why we even bother fishing in the first place.”

  “Because it’s fun,” I said, beginning to pack both of our rods away. “And it’s a life metaphor.”

  “A life metaphor?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

  “Absolutely. It’s about the challenge. The struggle to achieve. Striving for success. Overcoming long odds and the elements. For both us and the fish. You can learn a lot about survival just by being out here.”

  “I’d like to say you’re weird, but I’m sitting right here in the boat with you.”

  “And that would make both of us weird, right?”

  “Exactly,” Josie said, laughing.

  “But the best part of all of it is that nothing has to die in the process,” I whispered.

  “That would be a nice change,” Josie said, nodding. “Okay, let’s swing by Summerman’s place and say hi.”

  “He’s a rock star, and I doubt if he’s even awake yet,” I said.

  “Then we’ll leave him a note,” she said, gesturing for me to start the boat. “Let’s go.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, shaking my head. “Keep your pants on.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she said, laughing.

  I headed in the direction of Summerman’s island, waving goodbye to my fishing guide friend on the way past his boat. The island wasn’t far, and we were soon able to make out its outline in the early morning sky. I slowed as we left the main channel and headed into the shallower water.

  “Why are you slowing down?” Josie said.

  “There’s a huge shoal that runs off one side of the island, and I’m not exactly sure where it is,” I said, scanning the horizon.

  Then I noticed two objects moving through the water in the direction of the island.

  “What on earth is that?” I said, pointing at the objects.

  “It looks like a couple of swimmers,” Josie said, reaching for the binocular
s. “What do you know? It’s Summerman and his dog. What was his name again?”

  “Murray,” I said, grabbing my own pair of binoculars. “That water still must be freezing. It has to be about eighty feet deep around here.”

  “Yeah, I sure wouldn’t be going in,” Josie said. “Wow. What do you know? He’s skinny-dipping.”

  “Really?” I said, lowering my binoculars to glance over at her.

  But she didn’t even notice because her binoculars were locked on Summerman. I laughed and punched her arm.

  “Put those away,” I said. “We’re getting close.”

  Josie complied, and I continued to steer the boat toward them. Murray spotted us first, and I heard his distant woof. Moments later, Summerman stopped swimming and began to tread water. Eventually, he recognized us and waved an arm at us. The dog swam in small circles around him, and I realized that it was a protective maneuver on his part. I put the boat in neutral, and Summerman grabbed the side of our boat with one hand as Murray continued to bark and paddle next to him.

  “Hey, guys,” Summerman said, giving us a strange smile.

  “Are you okay?” I said.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, blinking several times. “I’m just trying to get used to being back here.”

  “And you thought an early morning swim in that water would help?” Josie said, laughing.

  “Yes, it’s pretty cold. Isn’t it, Murray?”

  The dog woofed but didn’t seem to mind the water temperature one bit.

  “Do you always start your day this way?” Josie said.

  “You mean with a swim?” he said, frowning up at us.

  “No. I meant that you’re naked, Summerman,” Josie said.

  “Nothing gets past you, huh?” I whispered.

  “Funny.”

  “Well, let’s just say that it’s sort of a tradition for Murray and me to start our summer by doing this,” he said, casually. “And we do the same thing on the official last day of summer.”

  “I’ll mark my calendar,” Josie said.

  “Josie,” I whispered. “Try to control yourself.”

  Summerman laughed and rubbed Murray’s head with his free hand.

  “Well, it’s nice to be back,” he said. “Hey, why don’t the two of you come over for dinner tonight? I have some friends coming in, but they won’t be here until tomorrow. I’d hate to eat alone on my first night back, and while I love Murray’s company, he’s not much of a conversationalist this time of year.”

  “This time of year?” I said, frowning.

  “Forget it,” Summerman said. “I’m babbling. Does seven-thirty work for you?”

  “Perfect,” Josie said.

  “No fish, right?” I said.

  “No, Suzy. We won’t be having fish,” Summerman said, laughing. “See you then.” Then he looked over at his dog. “I’ll race you to shore, Murray.”

  The dog woofed loudly and took off in a flash. Summerman watched him swim away, and his eyes danced as he stared after the dog.

  “Man, he’s fast. You think you can catch him with the head start you gave him?” I said, watching the dog work his way through the water.

  “No. He always beats me anyway,” Summerman said, gently pushing away from the boat. “I’ll see you tonight. I’m looking forward to catching up. I can’t believe the news about Howard.”

  We watched him make his way toward the island and laughed when we noticed that Murray had turned around and was waiting for Summerman to catch up.

  “What a great dog,” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you okay?” I said, glancing over at Josie who continued to dreamily stare out at the water.

  “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that you look a little…flushed. Yeah, let’s go with flushed.”

  “Suzy?”

  “Yes, Josie,” I said, doing my best to stifle a laugh.

  “Shut up.”

  Here’s a sneak peek at the next installment in The Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Mystery series, The Case of the Faithful Frenchie.

  Chapter 1

  The smells coming from the barbecue we’d set up were almost enough to distract me from the amazing scene that was playing out in front of Josie and me 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 on the nearby grill, I couldn’t take my eyes off the grassed lawn, and 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, nodding out at the lawn.

  “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 all the dogs 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 sharp 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 is the pirate 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 Year, 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 our local history. Over time, that period has been romanticized and now 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 the simple addition of Jolly Roger hats and a bunch of people walking around saying Aaaarrrrgggghhhh.