A Shot in the Bark: A Dog Park Mystery

Monday, May 9

Lia woke up late the next day. Or rather, Chewy and Honey woke her up, tag teaming her with kisses and bright yips, as if being happy could get her out of bed. Two nights of no sleep, then she spent yesterday either comatose or crying. Anna had hung out in the next room, checking in occasionally to bring her some tea or food. She remembered a grilled cheese sandwich she couldn't eat. She remembered a confused Chewy snuffling her tears as if to figure out what they were.

It was 8:00. The morning shift at the dog park would be in full swing. No matter how she was feeling, Honey and Chewy still needed to go run.

The Mount Airy Dog Park had two fenced areas, the smaller designated for small dogs. Few people used it because it had little shade and most of the small dogs liked chasing the big dogs on the other side. But it was a good place to go if you wanted to be alone.

Lia perched on the table nearest the fence, the only one with shade. She considered the group next door. Since the park had been closed yesterday morning, she figured everyone was peppering Anna and Jim with questions about the shooting. Terry Dunn, a robust reincarnation of Teddy Roosevelt, drew a line in the air with his finger. He appeared to be calculating the trajectory of the bullet while Marie Woo and Nadine Moyers watched.

Marie was a petite, feisty, first-generation Asian-American whose feathery, jet-black hair was accented with an eye-popping forelock in ever-changing hues. She had her head canted so that this month's magenta bangs flopped, the way they always did when she was getting ready to challenge Terry. Her unmarked skin had an ageless look; Marie refused to enlighten anyone on that point. In contrast to her firecracker personality, Marie's face was inscrutable. The only indication of her feelings was the degree of tilt to her head. Right now, the tilt was slight and her chin was down. Her interest was academic, not personal.

Nadine was a sporty grandmother with sprightly blue eyes and snowy, boy-cut hair. Nadine could often be spotted power-walking back and forth across the park with her arms pumping determinedly and Rufus trotting dutifully behind. She had paused in this morning's 'trek to nowhere' to catch the gossip. She touched Jim's arm with one hand, the other going to her mouth in a gesture of horror.

Catherine, wearing a fuchsia faux-silk jogging outfit, fussed with her Pomeranians. She looked up, glaring daggers at Nadine.

Funny, Lia thought, I can't hear a word they're saying and I still know exactly what's going on.

Anna and CarGo detached from the group, followed by a tall man Lia didn't know. As she approached, Anna waved, "Lia! Look who showed up! It's Detective Peter! Look who he brought with him!"

Lia squinted and sure enough, she recognized the rangy figure. She looked lower and spotted Viola dancing around CarGo in a vain attempt to get the mastiff to play.

"Detective Peter, is it?"

"Lia, you know we can't be formal here, and he's off duty now. I'm so glad you're up. I was going to check in on you when we were done here."

"So, Detective Peter, what brings you out here?" Lia asked

"Viola's staying with me for now. I thought she would like to play with her friends. She's been a bit anxious."

"How did you wind up with her?"

"Luthor's parents were less than enthusiastic about stepping up for her. I figured I could look after her until we found someone to take her."

"Yeah, the old man's allergic. So he says."

"I thought there might be a friend somewhere who would want her if I hung onto her for a few days. Otherwise, it was the shelter. So I'm letting folks know she needs a home."

"Thank you for taking her in. I don't know if I'm up to taking on another dog. I'll have to think about it."

"Sure, just let me know. By the way, we may have some questions for you, just some loose ends to tie up. Can you stop in at District Five tomorrow? Or I can come to you if you prefer."

"That would be nice. You can never park at District Five."

"It's a pain, I know. Any time in particular?"

Arrangements made, Anna and Lia watched the detective head for the parking lot with his capering dark shadow.

"That's a nice young man," Anna observed.

"Are we talking a little cougar action here?"

"Not a bad idea, but I suspect he might have a different agenda."

"Oh, really?"

~ ~ ~

There are rules to getting away with murder.

Rule Number One: You can't confide in anyone. Nobody. Not ever. Secrets are ticking time bombs. It's hard to keep a secret, but when it's your secret, you have every reason to keep it. Even with his mistakes, Harris should have gotten away with murder after two mistrials. Then a witness came forward. She claimed Harris bragged about killing his wife. A not-very-credible witness, as it turned out, but it gave the prosecution the chance to correct the mistakes they made in the first two trials. Then they nailed him the third time around.

Talking is tempting fate. That's my mantra. I don't like keeping secrets, and sometimes the pressure builds and I sit quietly and meditate. I repeat 100, 1,000 times, "Talking is tempting fate," while I close my eyes and imagine the color orange to remind myself how ghastly it looks on me.

Rule Number Two: Never kill when you are angry. You make mistakes when you're angry, the biggest mistake being the desire for violence. Violence leaves behind evidence of violence, the biggest piece of evidence being that the death was, in fact, murder and not an accident or natural causes.

Rule Number Three: Make it look like something else. An accident, suicide, a health condition, anything but murder. You can't be convicted for a crime if no one knows one occurred.

Rule Number Four: Plan, plan, plan. Rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. You have to review and practice your plan enough to find all the holes, and there are always holes. It has to be second nature because the mind often blanks when stressed. You've got to be programmed in case fear strikes. When your mind blanks, you've got to go on auto-pilot.

Rule Number Five: Never repeat yourself. Don't kill two husbands, two bosses, or two landlords. Never kill two people the same way. Repeating creates patterns and patterns create suspicion. Avoid connections between victims because connections will eventually form a net with you in it.

Rule Number Six: If you can't have an alibi, don't have a motive, at least not an obvious one. Cops know nobody has an alibi when they are at home in bed at night, but they don't care unless they think you had a reason to kill your victim. So if you think someone might become a target, don't engage in conflict with them.

Rule Number Seven: Keep still. Once you set everything in motion, do nothing that was not part of the original plan. People who scramble to protect themselves only wind up drawing attention to the thing they want to hide.

Rule Number Eight: Avoid casting suspicion on anyone else if you can help it. It's bad karma. Unless the person is really, truly, odious.

Rule Number Nine: No Souvenirs. Souvenirs are evidence. You never know when evidence will surface. Keep your memories and nothing else.