Nina Wright - Whiskey with a Twist

“Incredible,” I said. “Abra isn’t even there yet.”

Then I had a horrifying thought and added, “Is she?”

“I don’t think so,” Tina replied. “Jenx said something about another shooting.”

MacArthur was on his feet before I was. He threw down enough cash to cover his sandwich and my soda three times over. Peg thanked him and wished me luck.

As we hustled toward the door, Dr. David called, “You’ll see me at the dog show, too, Whiskey! Deely and I are leading a protest!”

Jenx was waiting at the Magnet Springs Police Station, one block away. She showed no reaction when I arrived with a bodyguard.

“The shooter is now in Nappanee,” she said without preamble. “Ramona Bowden was grooming one of her dogs outside the exhibit hall when somebody took a shot at her.”

“Somebody shot at Ramona?” I asked. “I thought Susan was the target.”

“So did Susan,” Jenx said. “She phoned me as soon as it happened. She’s ready to hire a bodyguard. For herself and Ramona.”

“I’ve already volunteered my services,” MacArthur said, “to anyone who needs them.”

Jenx nodded. “Ramona wasn’t hurt, but she’s badly shaken. So’s Susan. I advised them to stay out of plain sight 'til they get a bodyguard.”

“I’m on my way,” MacArthur said.

Then he asked if I needed him to double as my driver. I wanted to say yes because having a driver is the most decadent of luxuries. But he added that he’d prefer to go separately in order to have more freedom of movement. Since I thoroughly enjoyed watching MacArthur’s free movements, who was I to argue?

As we left the police station, I commented to MacArthur that our shooter was a lousy shot.

“He’s tried three times and hasn’t winged anybody.”

“That’s because he’s not trying to shoot them.”

“Say what?”

“He’s sending a message, Whiskey.”

“What kind of message?”

MacArthur paused for dramatic effect, which wasn’t necessary. A man as tall and well built as he is just naturally takes center stage.

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” he said. “With a little help from my volunteer deputy. Chester told me you’re on the case.”

I knew that Jenx preferred Chester over me in matters of law enforcement. He was more eager to please and less likely to compromise a crime scene. Also, Chester could speak canine. You’d be surprised how handy a skill that is.

MacArthur urged me to leave as soon as possible, adding “Chester will have Abra ready to roll.”

His thick brogue sounded so enchanting that once again I wondered why nasty Avery Mattimoe got to live with a hunk like him. I had been jealous when she hooked up with her good-looking professor, too, before I realized he was a toad disguised as a prince. Maybe, as Avery had gleefully pointed out, I was doomed to lust after all her boyfriends.

Or, happier thought, maybe she was doomed to lose them all. The first one had walked out the day he discovered the twins weren’t his. I wondered what it would take to drive MacArthur from her bed. If her surly attitude, soft ass, and bad complexion didn’t do it, what would?

Then I wondered why I wondered. I had a wanna-be live-in boyfriend of my own. A man I’d already married once-before I divorced him. Jeb still got my blood boiling. The chemistry between us was as combustible as ever. And he was lobbying hard to be a regular fixture in my life again.

But he hadn’t yet mentioned the M word. Did I want him to? Surely I wasn’t ready for that. If I were, I wouldn’t long for nights spent alone and lust after muscular, deep-voiced Scots who promised to protect me.

Would I?

“Why do you have to act like that?”

Tina’s familiar whine rudely interrupted my reverie. Naturally, I assumed she was snapping at me… 'til I spotted her husband Tim and realized he was the unfortunate object of her attention.

Walking back to my office in a daze, I had failed to notice the Breen family car, a dingy blue Chevy Malibu, parked in front of Mattimoe Realty. As he usually did when he came to retrieve Tina at the end of her shift, Tim had brought along their toddlers Winston and Neville. But today he had apparently managed to do or say something that annoyed Tina so much she wasn’t getting into the car.

“Act like what?” he retorted. “Like I’m sick of being your chauffeur and babysitter? Maybe that’s because I am sick of it! I have better things to do if we’re ever going to make more money than you get paid at this dump.”

Winston and Neville stopped bouncing in the backseat and stared like stone statues.

Since I was on the sidewalk only a few yards away, I couldn’t pretend to be invisible. So I took the opposite approach.

“Hey, Tim!” I called out cheerfully. “Long time no see. How ya doing?”

Tina turned crimson and glanced away. Tim waited a beat and then rolled the driver’s side window the rest of the way down.

“Hey, Whiskey. Tina gave me the good news about Mattimoe Realty representing the new development on Uphill Road. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But Odette’s doing all the work.”

He barked a laugh and said nothing more. I couldn’t help but notice that he failed to make eye contact. That wasn’t like Tim. Never an ambitious man, his usual manner was relaxed and friendly. The opposite of Tina’s, in other words. Today, though, he radiated hostility. Was that what happened to a man too long out of work? Without acknowledging me, Tina climbed stiffly into the car. I waved at Winston and Neville, but they didn’t wave back.

As my volunteer bodyguard had promised, Chester did indeed “have Abra ready to roll” when I arrived at Vestige. Ever dutiful, he had managed to make her look better without formally grooming her.

“She’s still a mess,” he assured me, “because Susan wants her that way, but I got out the worst tangles and the smelliest debris. I wouldn’t want anybody to charge you with animal neglect.”

Always a possibility if Fleggers showed up.

Just knowing Abra’s location was a refreshing change of pace. I was so grateful to Chester that I didn’t have the heart to bring up his waffles. As it was, I blamed Tina more than my breakfast for my prolonged case of the burps.

I had promised Susan I’d deliver the Bad Example in time for the Breeder Meet-and-Greet at five. That meant I needed to hit the road ASAP, just as soon as I could toss a few beige separates and personal items into my overnight bag and wrestle Abra into the car. Or ask Chester to load her for me. I opted for the latter. By the time I snapped my suitcase shut, she was in the back of my Lexus, looking almost demure.

“Did you… do something to her?” I asked Chester.

“I played Jeb’s Animal Lullabies,” he said. “And told her I love her. That usually does the trick.”

I made a mental note to follow Chester’s model, with minor modifications. I couldn’t use love talk to bribe Abra; she’d see through that in a nanosecond. But I could and should make better use of the Fleggers CD. I already knew the happy effects of Jeb’s crooning; during Velcro’s stay, I’d played the tunes 24/7. It was either that or listen to the shitzapoo’s nonstop yaps. By now, however, I was sick to death of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, and the like. Trust me, lullabies can make you nuts.

But I played them all the way to Nappanee. As a result, Abra traveled well. In fact, she slept the whole way. I could only hope she wasn’t storing up energy for a manic performance at the show. I could only hope…

As I drove, my thoughts kept returning to Jeb. That was natural since he sang me the whole way to Amish country. Plus, he phoned me en route to wish me luck with my Bad Example. I meant it when I told him I had no idea what to expect. I’d never been to a dog show, let alone stepped into the spotlight as the “how-not-to” human. I could only hope it wouldn’t feel like a three-ring circus with me in the lion’s cage.