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Author J.M. Poole
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Hungry Griffin Publishing
ISBN-10: 1517330343
Type: Fiction
Pages: 251
Copyright: May 2nd, 2016
ISBN-13: 9781517330347
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Struggling author Zack Anderson relocates to serene Pomme Valley, Oregon, only to be accused of theft and murder the instant he arrives. Thankfully, the one person who is trying to prove his innocence has an uncanny ability to sniff out clues.
From the best-selling author of the fantasy series Bakkian Chronicles and Tales of Lentari comes a brand new cozy mystery series!
When a shocking murder shatters the tranquility of a sleepy Oregon town, and a priceless sculpture turns up missing, all fingers soon start pointing at new resident Zack Anderson.
Armed with a determination to clear his name, Zack sets out to solve the case with the help of a feisty canine companion with an uncanny ability to sniff out clues.
With evidence mounting against him, can Zack identify the killer and locate the missing sculpture before he ends up in the doghouse?
Excerpt
I gazed at the sign, which read Watt’s Vet Clinic & Animal Shelter. I shook my head in amazement. It was true. Harry was a vet. No matter what his credentials were, there was no way I was calling him ‘Doc’. My poor brain was already short circuiting just thinking about Harry in his new role. In a white doctor’s coat.
I strode into the clinic and instantly recoiled in disgust. I had to fight the urge to pinch my own nose shut. I could smell strong traces of urine in the air, along with feces and a powerful disinfectant that must have been used to clean up whatever had happened. I automatically lifted a foot to inspect the soles of my shoes.
Good. Nothing there.
“Good afternoon,” a woman cheerfully told me. “How can I help you today?”
She was about my age, tall (for a woman – about 5’9”), and had short brown hair.
“I’m looking for Harry Watt,” I announced.
“Of course. You must be the friend of his he told us about. Are you Zack?”
I nodded, “Guilty as charged.”
“He told me to send you back to his office. It’s right through that door there and it’ll be at the end of the hall. It’ll be the only door you see.”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
I opened the door and froze in my tracks. My mind flashed back to the “Animal Rescue” part of Harry’s sign and groaned. That sneaky, two-timing son of a bitch! The back part of Harry’s clinic was where he kenneled all the dogs waiting to be adopted. The dogs were all lined up, in perfect military precision, as if they were in the middle of an inspection. They were sitting in straight lines on either side of the aisle and were staring straight at me.
Okay, I don’t know about you, but it’s been my understanding that most people will actively avoid visiting the pound, or any type of place where they adopt animals, because one look at the helpless dogs staring – imploring – at you to look into their eyes will melt even the coldest hearts imaginable. If I looked at any of these dogs then I just knew I’d end up adopting one of them. It’s in my nature. I’ve always liked dogs, only I’ve never owned one. So, I needed to walk forward, keep my head down, and ignore everything around me.
I could smell the dogs, and I had to admit, Harry ran a clean clinic. I couldn’t smell any traces of dog poo back there, but I could smell the dogs themselves. While not really offensive, I could tell that several of them could use a bath.
A collar jingled alarmingly close. Another dog yipped excitedly. I almost looked up on that one. My eyes narrowed to slits. I was practically squinting. I was almost to the door! One quick turn of the knob and I’d be home free!
Movement in my peripheral vision attracted my attention. I could tell that a dog had just appeared and was now watching me. Don’t ask me how I knew, I just did. I could feel those two canine eyeballs boring through the back of my skull.
Then I heard it. An unmistakable sigh, and it had come from the dog that had just appeared. Once more the rules flashed through my mind:
1. Don’t move your eyes from the floor.
2. Don’t make eye contact.
3. Under no circumstances should you ever, EVER pet the dog.
Break the rules and presto, you’ll find yourself with a new roommate. Well, I didn’t need a dog and I didn’t want a dog, so it’s eyes on the floor for me. However, that sigh had sounded so human! It spoke volumes. That sigh had said the poor fellow wanted a permanent home and had resigned himself to never having one.
I couldn’t help it. The move was automatic; reflexive. I looked.
The owner of that sigh was a breed of dog I had only seen on dog shows, not that I watched many dog shows. It was a short, squat little fellow with an elongated body, short, stumpy legs, and no tail. The ears were small, erect, and tapered to a rounded point. The fur was thick and luxurious, but not long, and consisted of a beautiful mix of black, orange, and white.
Beautiful? Did I just call a dog beautiful? Damn! No. No. I will not like you, dog. Keep you charms to yourself, do you hear me?
So what kind of breed was he, I wondered. I know I’ve seen pictures of them before. But from where?
A picture of the Queen of England flashed through my brain. The Queen! This was her favorite breed of dog. Now I knew what this little fellow was: a corgi.
The corgi approached the other side of the chain link fence, plopped his rump down onto the concrete floor, looked up at me, and lifted a foreleg in greeting. Before I knew what I was doing, I had squatted down and was holding a hand up to the fence. A warm, wet tongue flicked once across my open palm.
I groaned. I was in trouble. The corgi had dark brown eyes with gold flecks in them and had locked both those eyes directly onto mine. For several seconds neither of us moved a muscle. Finally, when I ended up blinking, the dog rose to its feet and panted at me, looking for all the world like he was smiling. Then I heard a chuckle. I looked up to see Harry grinning at me from his open doorway.
My friend had definitely aged, as I’m sure I had in his eyes. He had an unmistakable paunch, which I’m guessing was brought on by one too many beers. He had thinning hair and was sporting a full beard. He was also holding a clipboard with a set of papers on it.
“No.”
“An excellent choice, pal. You and he are going to be the best of friends.”
“Harry, no. I don’t need a dog.”
“But he needs a human. He’s picked you.”
“I don’t know anything about caring for a dog! Are you kidding me? You can’t do this to me, Harry.”
“It’s easy,” my friend assured me. “Feed him, take him on walks, and make sure he has plenty of fresh, clean water. That’s it.”
“There’s more to caring for a dog than that, pal,” I mumbled as I started filling out the necessary adoption forms.
I handed the clipboard back to Harry, who gave them a quick once over. He unclipped a leash from a whole row of them hanging nearby and opened the corgi’s kennel. As soon as the dog was secured Harry turned to me and held out the end of the leash, as though he was presenting me keys to the city.
“Zack, meet Sherlock. Sherlock, meet your new daddy.”
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