Downton Tabby Page 13

“He’s just strong-minded.” Her jaw jutted forward. “I like that about him.”

  Someone was strong-minded, aka stubborn, but I didn’t think it was Raider. “That may be, but we need to redirect his strong mind into things that will keep him and you safe.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The question is do you want my help or not?”

  She eyed me. “Okay, let’s get going. I got stuff to do.”

  With Raider barely containing his excitement, we went down the walkway, crossed the short bridge, and stepped into the dog park. The double-gated entrance allowed us to go in without the danger of other dogs escaping. Once in, I directed Betty and Raider to the left where there was an area for large dogs. A whippet and a Weimaraner rushed forward to sniff Raider and then took off across the open space. Immediately Raider ran after them, yanking the leash from Betty’s hand.

  The good news was he’d acted so quickly that she didn’t have time to resist and therefore wasn’t injured. The bad news? The big guy was running around the dog park trailing his leash behind him.

  “Raider!” I called. He turned his head and looked at me and then went on chasing the other dogs who ran in ever-widening circles.

  “Raider!” Betty yelled, her voice shrill and piercing. She took off across the field, her little pajama-clad legs moving like a wind-up toy. Although the dog park was green space, it was still canyon and therefore rough.

  Aye-aye-aye. I took off after Betty, afraid she’d do a face plant in the rough terrain. Every time we got close to Raider he galloped away.

  Once we caught Raider and unhooked his leash, we were both out of breath. I suggested we park ourselves on one of the benches and let him run.

  “If you can bring him here at least once a week, it will really help him use up some of that pent-up energy,” I explained. “However, there are some things you want to watch for.”

  “Like what?” Betty wriggled herself back on the bench and looked at me.

  “For instance, it’s normal for the dogs to sniff each other. They’re just saying hello.”

  “Yeah, they do that all the time when they come into the store.”

  “But if it looks like there’s a problem, you need to intervene and call Raider to you immediately. That’s why it’s so important that he respond to your commands.”

  “What kinda problem? You mean like fighting?”

  “Raider’s still a pup and not an aggressive dog, so he probably won’t start anything, but sometimes in situations like the dog park there are bullies.”

  “Kinda like in real life, huh?”

  “Exactly.” I smiled. “And you have to help keep him safe by training him to do a couple of things. One is to come to you when you call him and the other is to ‘leave it’ which is basically just getting him to let go of something when you tell him to.”

  “I can do that.” Her silver head nodded.

  “It’s a great time to use those treats he’s so fond of.” I indicated the package she had stuffed in her purse.

  “Gotcha, Carla.”

  “Good, Beatrice.” I met her eyes. “So, let’s start with coming when you call him. We need to start with small steps that you can practice when you’re at home.”

  “Okay, like what?”

  “Whether it’s a young pup like Raider or an older dog, the first thing you want to do is plant the idea that coming to you is the best thing in the world.”

  Betty tipped her head like a dog.

  “It’s not difficult, but simple recall training takes repeating it over and over until it’s automatic,” I went on. “Any time Raider comes to you, whether you’ve called him or not, let him know you appreciate it. It doesn’t have to be treats, you can shower him with praise or rub his head, which he seems to really like.”

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  “If you have trouble getting him to do it at first, don’t get discouraged. You’ve got to catch him doing what you want and then reinforce that behavior.”

  We both looked at Raider romping with the other big dogs. Exercise was still key, but Betty had to do some very basic training with him or he was going to develop bad habits that would be difficult to get rid of.

  “One thing you can try if you can’t get him to come is to go in the other direction when you call. Dogs can’t resist chasing you; it’s play to them. This can be important if he’s gotten away from you or is running toward the street. If you run after Raider like we both did earlier when he got away, he’s going to keep running away. He thinks you’re playing. But if you call him and go the other direction, he’s more likely to come toward you.”

  “So, I go away from him to get him to come to me?” Betty sounded skeptical.

  “Another thing, if you save a special treat Raider loves for when you’re working with him on recall, you’ll probably get better results. Cooked chicken pieces or something like that maybe. My pooch, Dogbert, loves cheese so I used bits of cheese when I first started working with him.”

  “My friend Luis used chicken to get Barney to run faster during the Dachshund Derby.” Betty seemed encouraged.

  “Dogs are just like us humans.” I was keeping an eye on Raider’s location as we talked. So far so good. “The things we enjoy are pretty motivational.”

  “Yeah, but what if it doesn’t work.”

  “I’ll bet it will work.” I patted her thin hand. “You just have to start small. Get him to come to you from the kitchen to your living room. Then try doing the same thing in your backyard. Then after he’s responding at home, try the dog park.”

  “I never had a dog. I didn’t know there was so much to it.” She leaned back on the bench. “But he’s worth it.”

  “Of course, he is.” I leaned down to pick up my bag. “I have some books at home on dog training that I used when I first got my dog. They were really helpful to me. If you like, you can borrow them.”

  “Okay, yeah. Books would be good.” She suddenly sat up straight. “Hey, isn’t that the cutie cop?” Betty pointed.

  She was right; it was Detective Malone making his way across the grounds. Black T-shirt, black jeans, his long legs eating up the space as he strode in our direction.

  “Ms. Lamont, Ms. Foxx.” Malone stopped in front of where we sat. “I stopped by your office and Verdi told me you had planned to come here.”

  “I waited for you to call last night.”

  “It took a while to sort things out.” He glanced over at Betty whose wide eyes said she’d taken that the wrong way.

  “Maybe you’d like to frisk me, Detective.” Betty wiggled her red eyebrows and snickered at her own joke.

  Malone just ignored her. “I need to speak to you, privately?” He waited for me to step a few feet away.

  “What is it?”

  “I spoke with the process server. The letter he was delivering was an intent to sue. The two guys, Jake and Cash, are named in reference to a pet-fitness program they created. Are you familiar with WoofWalker?”

  “Yes, I am. It’s one of many of those types of programs. I know of at least five or six.” I shaded my eyes from the sun to look up at him. Malone was one of a handful of people who made me feel petite. “They generally work just like the people versions, keeping track of activity and sometimes other health information.” I hadn’t been aware that Jake and Cash had created WoofWalker.

  “It seems some guy believes they stole his idea.”

  “I don’t know how that could be. Their device isn’t that much different from the rest of the activity monitors out there, and there are a ton.”

  “Apparently the one Cash and Jake developed does more. It also monitors food intake and other health data.” Malone shrugged.

  “So who is suing?”

  “It’s a Brody Patton. Does the name mean anything to you?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” I wondered how this Brody Patton would prove they’d stolen his idea.

  Betty popped up between us. “Is this about the murder?” She looked up
at Malone and batted her eyes. “I can help you out, Handsome. I’m good at this detecting stuff. Remember when we worked together and solved the murder at the Dachshund races? We were hot on the trail of a killer.”

  “Go.” Malone pointed. “I need talk to Caro.”

  Betty reluctantly stepped back toward the bench, muttering under her breath.

  He took my arm and steered me a couple of steps in the other direction.

  “We checked out Jake and Cash’s next-door neighbor. According to his vehicle registration, Mr. Zellwen has a brand-new black Escalade.”

  “His name is Zellwen?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Betty inching toward us.

  “He had already contacted the department to file a complaint.” Malone had his back to her, so he didn’t see her moving closer and closer to where we stood.

  “A complaint? But how is that possible? Toria is at my house. She was nowhere near his yard and couldn’t have bit him.” I was outraged for the falsely accused kitty.

  “Mr. Zellwen’s complaint isn’t about the cat; it’s about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.” I could tell he was holding back a smirk, and I didn’t appreciate it. “He believes you are harassing him.”

  “I was on the street in public space. I was not in his yard, but if I were, I might bite,” I added.

  “When I called him back, I questioned him about his surveillance recordings.”

  “And?”

  “We could get a court order if we have to, but Zellwen agreed to voluntarily turn over the recordings.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “It is. We’ll look at the day of the murder as well as the day you were at the house and encountered the intruder.”

  “Hopefully you’ll find something helpful.”

  “If we find something, we may need you to stop down at the station.”

  “I can do that.”

  “That’s it then. I wanted you to be aware. And get your take on the dog-tracking device.” He turned to leave and ran smack dab into Betty who had moved to stand directly behind him.

  “I gotta get going if I’m gonna get Raider back home before Cookie sends out a search party for me.” Betty was unapologetic about her eavesdropping.

  “Raider?” Malone looked puzzled.

  “Yeah, that’s my dog.” Betty pointed out the Saint Bernard.

  “That’s your dog.” Malone looked at me.

  “We’re working out some issues,” I explained.

  I helped Betty round up Raider and got the leash firmly clipped to his collar then handed the lead to Betty. The big dog’s bushy tail whipped back and forth, and he gave Betty’s wrist a slobbery lick. He’d definitely enjoyed his outing.

  “You can walk me to my car.” She looped her arm through Malone’s. “We can discuss this new murder investigation.”

  He turned to look at me.

  “Are you coming?” he asked.

  I ignored his pleading look. “You guys go on ahead. I see someone I need to speak with.”

  “I’ll be getting those books from you, Carla,” Betty threw over her shoulder.

  “Anytime, Bertha.”

  Malone looked confused.

  “Don’t ask,” I told him and smiled at Betty.

  She smiled back and tugged on his arm. “Come on, Handsome.”

  I could hear Betty chirping happily about her theories on the murder investigation. Malone’s voice was too low for me to hear, but the pointed look he shot over his shoulder at me was unmistakably clear. It said, Paybacks are hell, Caro.

  I waved and went to look for a varmint I’d noticed earlier when I was helping Betty corral Raider.

  Geoffrey Carlisle was sitting on a bench in the little dog area. He was chatting up one of the dog owners who happened to be a client of mine.

  I closed the gate behind me on the big-dog side and let myself into the little-dog area. I greeted a couple of people I knew and then walked to where Geoff was yucking it up with Davia Sinclair. Her dog, Nano, a sweet little Chihuahua, had some depression issues a month or so ago, and I’d been working with them for a while. We were able to get Nano off the anti-depressants she’d been on, and at last check-in she’d been doing well.

  I was encouraged she had Nano at the dog park. Although, she wasn’t really getting any exercise. She sat in the shade at Davia’s feet.

  I was a strong advocate for making sure pets get plenty of exercise, but I have to tell you in the pampered world of Bark Mitzvahs, pet spas with paw soaks, peticures, puppy pawlish, and even nannies to get dogs and cats to their playdates, it was often a hard sell.

  “Hi, Davia.” I greeted her, but ignored Geoff.

  It’s hard to define why I was so offended at his presence. It was a public dog park after all, and he could certainly go anywhere he wanted and talk to anyone he chose.

  Wait. I take back what I said before.

  It really wasn’t all that difficult to define what sent me over the top about Geoff’s reappearance in my life. I did know why it bothered me. I’d come to Laguna Beach to get away from my past. To start fresh. And I’d done it on my own terms. I’d created a new life, and the last thing I needed was a visit from the Ghost of Mistakes Past.

  Taking a deep breath, I regrouped in my head.

  Leaning down to pet Nano’s sleek crown, I asked, “How are you, girl?” She raised her head and gave a little woof.

  “She seems to be doing well.” I addressed Davia.

  “Very well,” she replied. “Have you met Geoffrey Carlisle? He’s new in town, and he was just telling me about his expertise in dog therapy. He has a Master’s degree in psychology and has worked with some celebrities. Oh, I forgot,” she tittered. “You can’t talk about them.”

  “Patient confidentially,” Geoff intoned. He smiled at Davia and reached down to pat the sleeping pooch.

  Well slap my head and call me stupid. It suddenly occurred to me what the louse was up to. Why he’d followed me to a client appointment, why he’d shown up at my office, and why he was hanging out at the dog park.

  Talk about a ten-gallon ego. Mr. Geoffrey Carlisle wasn’t trying to win me back. He had decided my pet-therapy practice, the business he’d been so derisive about, was a good gig, and he wanted in on the action.

  The problem was he’d missed one really important point. I didn’t do it for the money. I did it because I loved the animals. Geoff loved no one but himself.

  I was madder than a mule with a mouth full of bumblebees, and I had to get out of there fast or I was going to come unglued right on the spot.

  I ran through several scenarios in my head and came up with nothing that was appropriate to say in front of a client. Even one who had been so easily mesmerized by Geoffrey’s snake-charmer ways.

  Deep breath. I put on my very best Texas Miss Congeniality pageant-contestant-under-pressure smile and said a tight but civil good-bye to Davia.

  I didn’t look in Geoffrey’s direction at all. I tried to imagine he was a bug. A small insignificant bug.

  I turned and walked away, holding on to my composure until I knew I was out of sight.

  Then I stomped out of the park to where I’d parked my car.

  People. Some of them turn out better than you hope, and others are just a complete and utter waste of space.

  I DIDN’T SEE GEOFFREY the rest of the day, but my realization of what he had been up to still nagged me hours later as I finished up my day.

  I had returned phone calls and taken care of a couple of errands, but couldn’t shake the cloud hanging over my day. The past week had been overwhelming and much of it utterly and completely out of my control.

  It was enough to make any sane person plum crazy.

  Jake’s murder. I knew Malone and company were working every angle and were frustrated with the lack of evidence. Or even a direction. No real leads. Nothing at the house that helped. No word from Cash. But, as Malone liked to point out, not mine to worry about.

>   My ex. I’d started over and made a life. Now, it felt like Geoffrey was intent on robbing me of the hard-won peace of mind I’d created. It wasn’t so much about the business. There was plenty to go around. It was more about his motives and why he’d chosen to come here. I felt like my safe haven had been invaded, and in a way, it had.

  There was Mama. Her increasingly frequent phone calls kept me on edge. She was on a mission with this family-reunion barbecue, and I knew how that usually worked out for me. I needed to decide whether I was going to do battle on this one or write it on my calendar and be done with it. Just a long weekend, right? But how many months after that would it take me to untangle myself from the lasso that I knew would rope me right back into the family drama. The drama I’d tried so hard to escape?

  And Sam. Oh, my. There was a tough one. Things were changing between us. Nothing stays the same, and it shouldn’t. Most anyone would call it a good and natural change, but was I ready for it? I could fight it, ignore it, or begin to let it change me.

  I pulled into my driveway, glad to be home, but not looking forward to an evening of chasing my worries around in my head.

  Sometimes a run on the beach helps me clear my thoughts. So after taking care of pet needs, I changed into shorts, a T-shirt, and my running shoes. I grabbed my water bottle and started for the door.

  Dogbert raised his head expectantly.

  “Not this time, buddy.” I patted his head. “The pace I’m planning on wouldn’t work for you.”

  I parked my car close to where Sam and I had parked the night before and started south down the beach at a good steady speed. I tried to push everything—Jake’s murder, my ex, Mama Kat, and where Sam and I were going—from my mind. I tried not to think of anything but the pounding of the surf and the breeze in my hair.

  Having gone what I judged to be about a half-mile, I turned and began my run back toward Main Beach and the boardwalk. I don’t know that I’d truly cleared my head, but it had made me feel better to take a break from trying to figure things out.

  I couldn’t do a thing to help with the investigation but pass on the information people shared with me. There wasn’t much I could do about Geoffrey. It was a free country, and he could start a business wherever he chose. My mother issues went way back to my pageant days, but we’d come to a détente of sorts. She didn’t always get the boundaries, but I could remind her. And Sam. Well, it was going to take more than a run on the beach to sort out that one.