Putting on the Dog (37 page)

My worst fears were being realized. Suzanne was dressed to the nines, a sure sign that she’d already made an emotional investment in the evening ahead. The thick waves of her flame-red hair curled around her face and shoulders voluptuously, and her cheeks were tinged with pink—maybe from too much blush, but more likely from excitement. Her round blue eyes were fringed with thick lashes that told me she’d gotten a little carried away with the mascara. The same went for her lipstick, a deep red shade that gave her full, sensual mouth the pouty look of a model.

But it was her dress that was the killer. It was a 21st century variation of the classic Little Black Dress, with the emphasis on “Little.” In fact, it appeared to be modeled on those wide rubber bands that are frequently wrapped around the stems of broccoli. Suzanne’s abundant curves tested the limits of the stretchy fabric, like a boa from Raffy’s Reptile-A-Rama who’d just swallowed a large mammal. It also exposed enough thigh and cleavage that I seriously feared for Marcus’s ability to remain in control.

“You look great!” I said sincerely as I sat down, my heart aching over all the effort she’d put into an evening that was guaranteed to disappoint her. “By the way, this is Nick....”

“Hi, Nick.” Suzanne didn’t seem particularly interested in meeting my possible Mr. Right. She was too busy watching the restaurant’s entrance for the person she seemed convinced would be hers. Her face lit up like Max’s every time the door opened, then sagged with disappointment.

“Marcus is late,” she moaned. She was clearly doing her best to act cheerful, but I could see that her ability to maintain a stiff upper lip was fading fast. “I hope he’s not lost. Are you sure you gave him the right directions, Jess?”

My stomach churned with anger—anger that was directed more at myself than at Marcus. Why did I even
mention
him? I wondered. Why couldn’t I have kept my big mouth shut, at least this once?...

“Oh, my God,” Suzanne suddenly cried. “Is that him?”

I followed her gaze to the front door. There he was: the one and only Marcus Scruggs, striding in on long, gangly legs that reminded me of Lou’s. For the occasion, he’d donned jeans, a white T-shirt, and what looked like a very expensive sports jacket.
Miami Vice,
a couple of decades too late. He kept running his fingers through his blond hair, cut so short it could be mistaken for stubble, in a pointless effort at grooming. In his other hand, he held a single red rose. The Marc Man clearly meant business.

Which was bound to be bad news. My heart sank. I glanced over at Nick, looking for some moral support. He didn’t notice. He was too busy making a huge dent in the basket of rolls the waiter had just placed on our table.

“You must be Marcus,” I heard Suzanne coo, using a voice I’d never heard emerge from her lips before.

“Well,
hell
-o, Suzanne Fox.” Marcus, meanwhile, sounded like he was imitating a sleazy nightclub emcee. As she stood up to give him a polite kiss on the cheek, he looked her up and down without the slightest trace of subtlety. “Whoa! Jessie said your name was Fox, but she forgot to tell me that you
are
a fox.”

I suppressed the urge to groan.
I’m sorry, Suzanne,
I thought woefully. I am so, so sorry....

“And Jessie forgot to tell
me
that
you’re
an absolute
charmer
!”

My mouth fell open. I could hardly believe what I was witnessing. Suzanne, the serious, accomplished medical professional—someone with whom I had once mapped genes and agonized over matrix algebra—was giggling like a geisha girl.

“So tell me: What other attributes of yours did Jessie fail to mention?” Marcus asked, leering as he slid onto the banquette beside her.

Her cheeks flushed and her blue eyes gleaming, Suzanne countered, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to find
that
out for yourself!”

I nearly fell off my chair.

I snuck another peek at Nick, curious to see if I was the only one who felt as if I’d just entered a parallel universe where everything was turned upside down. But he’d moved onto the crudités, looking as if he wasn’t minding this half as much as he’d expected.

I wished I felt the same way. Instead, I let out a deep sigh, resolving myself to the fact that I was in for a long evening.

But at that point, I had no idea that the giggling, teasing, and knee-squeezing would turn out to be the least of it.

“Still afraid to touch me?” Nick murmured as we stumbled toward the guesthouse, draping his arm around me and drawing me close.

My head was spinning, no doubt the result of Marcus’s insistence upon ordering a third bottle of wine. That, combined with the massive infusion of hormones that had permeated the air throughout dinner, made the idea of climbing into bed with Nick an exceptionally attractive proposition.

“Now that the social portion of the evening is over,” I returned, “I don’t have to worry about mussing your hair. As for untying that bow tie, I’ve been waiting for the chance to do that all evening.”

Nick and I slid through the front door, glommed onto each other. Lou immediately bounded over, sticking his nose in my hand and, as usual, insisting on being the focus of my attention.

“I’ll let the dogs out,” I told Nick. “It’ll only take a minute.” I moved aside to let Lou out.

My Dalmatian just stood there, staring up at me anxiously.

“Great,” I muttered. “Lou’s suddenly decided he’s afraid of the dark. And where’s Max? What on earth has he gotten into?”

Lou barked, as if answering my question. Then he skittered around me in an agitated fashion.

“Quiet, Lou!” I ordered. “For goodness sake, where’s Max. Max?”

I headed into the bedroom, impatient over my Westie’s uncharacteristic lack of cooperation. It was late; I was tired; and all the wine I’d consumed as a way of getting myself through the unsavory evening had caused cobwebs to form in my brain. Wherever I went, Lou insisted on charging after me. I ignored him as I scanned the small bedroom, looking for Max. There was no sign of him.

“Max?” I called again, becoming increasingly frustrated. I strode into the kitchen, nearly tripping over Lou.

“Come
on,
Louie-Lou,” I pleaded. “I really don’t have time to—”

“Did you find him?” Nick asked.

“No. You haven’t, either?”

I looked at Nick and saw the stricken look on his face.

“We have to find Max,” I insisted, a flash of heat shooting through me. The cobwebs were gone. “Where is he?”

Lou barked again. I looked down, focusing on him for the first time since I’d gotten home. And realized he’d been acting strange from the moment I walked in.

“I’ll look outside,” Nick suggested, striding toward the door. “Maybe he got out.”

“Max?” I cried, my eyes darting around the room. The feeling of panic was escalating. “Max? Where are you, Max?”

Lou barked once more, a sharp, staccato sound that cut right through me.

I went through the house once again, with Lou scrambling beside me everywhere I went. “Max?” I called again and again as I checked under the bed and in the closet. I even dropped to the floor to peer under the dresser. It was only three inches off the ground, a space that was much too small for a Westie to fit into. But I was growing increasingly desperate.

“Max?
Max?
Where
are
you?”

My voice had been growing more and more shrill as my feelings of panic escalated. At this point, I was practically shrieking.

Nick came back in, his expression pinched. I knew the results of his search without asking. I could no longer ignore what was obvious.

Max was missing.

Chapter 17

“Man is an animal that makes bargains; no other animal does this—no dog exchanges bones with another.”

—Adam Smith

A horrible sick feeling came over me, twisting my stomach into such tight knots I had to wrap my arms around my waist to keep from doubling over. My mind raced, as if a bizarre slide show was running out of control, flashing one horrific image after another on a screen. I pictured every mistreated animal I’d ever seen, from heartbreaking pictures in textbooks to emergency cases I had treated with my heart in my throat. Only this time, every one of those scenarios featured my precious Westie.

Interspersed among the slides I dredged up from my memory were more current shots: images of the dead animals that someone had left on my front porch. First the mouse, then the rat, then the cat...

“Oh, my God!” I gasped, blinking hard to stop the stinging in my eyes. The gesture didn’t keep the tears from streaming down my face.
“Max!”

A more rational voice emerged from my despair, trying to take over like a responsible parent.
You’re jumpingto conclusions,
the voice insisted. You don’t know what actually happened. Maybe Max simply managed to escape from Shawn’s property. Maybe he’s running around the neighborhood, chasing squirrels and having the time of his life.

I darted out the front door, ignoring Nick’s pleas that I stop a minute to think.

“Max!” I cried, sprinting across the lawn. Lou loped alongside me, barking furiously. “Maxie, where are you? Max,
please
!”

I ran blindly in the darkness, darting around without paying attention—until I turned abruptly and collided with something.

“Whoa, hold on!” Shawn cried, grasping me by my shoulders. “What’s going on? I heard you out here, yelling your head off.... Are you okay, Jess?”

“No!” I returned. “My dog is missing! I’m afraid something awful has happened. I’m afraid that somebody—”

Shawn ran his hands up and down my bare arms. “Hey, he’s probably just off sniffing around some female dog in the neighborhood. Chill!” The matter-of-factness of his tone, combined with his easy grin, only irritated me.

“But somebody’s been killing animals! Somebody’s been—”

“Hey, what’s all this?” Shawn clutched my shoulders more tightly. “This isn’t like you!”

“You don’t understand!” I exclaimed. “I’m afraid somebody took him!”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Shawn interjected. “I mean, who would—?”

“I hate to say this,” Nick muttered, coming up behind us, “but you never should have gotten involved in Barnett’s murder.”

“Maybe.” I swallowed hard. “But I thought I could handle it.”

“
‘Handle
it!’
Jess, we’re talking about
murder
! If you didn’t learn anything the first time you were crazy enough to get involved in something like this—”

“You’re really not helping, Nick,” I shot back. “In fact, I probably should never even have told you about what I was doing in the first place. I guess this is what I get for thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d actually
support
me—”

“Sounds like you two don’t exactly have much of a communication thing going on,” Shawn observed.

“Hey, can’t you see the lady’s upset?” Nick snapped.

“Sure,” Shawn came back, “but it sounds like you’ve got some major issues. Like I said—”

“This is none of your damn business!” Nick took a step closer to Shawn. “If you had any sense, you’d keep your nose out of this—”

“If
I
had any sense! Seems to me
you’re
the one who—”

“Do the two of you think you could control your testosterone for just a minute?” I shrieked. “My dog is
missing
! Max is
gone
! Isn’t there anything we can do?”

The ringing of the phone inside the guesthouse shot through me like gunfire. I jerked my head in that direction, but stood frozen.

“Stay here,” Nick said evenly. He sprinted inside, with Lou cantering beside him on his long, spindly legs. Shawn and I were left alone together on the lawn.

“If anything’s happened to my dog...”I told Shawn. “I’m going to search every inch of the neighborhood. Maybe I’ve got this whole thing wrong. Maybe he’s hurt, or lost, or . . . or . . .”

“I’ll help,” Shawn offered. “Want me to see if I can find a couple of flashlights?”

I didn’t have a chance to answer. Nick was already coming out of the guesthouse. He walked toward me with a determined stride, Lou still at his side.

It wasn’t often that I saw Nick look shaken. So the expression on his face—and the way all the color had drained from it—set my heart pounding.

“Who was it?” I demanded.

“I’m not sure. All I heard was a tape.”

“A tape?”

“Music. And then they hung up.”

“What ‘music,’ Nick?” I asked, bracing myself.

He hesitated. “It was that old song, ‘How Much is That Doggy in the Window?’ ”

“Hey, I know that one!” Shawn said brightly. “From when I was a kid. I remember the part about the ‘waggily tail.’ ”

“Oh, my,” I breathed. “How did they know the phone number?”

“Easy,” Nick replied. “When they went in to get Max, they probably checked the phone. The number’s written right on it.”

“Sure,” Shawn said. “Since I mainly use the place to put up friends, they have no way of knowing the number otherwise.” He frowned. “Hey, what do you mean, ‘When they went in to get Max?’ Don’t you guys keep the guesthouse locked?”

“We haven’t bothered,” I admitted. “The lock is so tricky, and we only have one key....”

A lightbulb suddenly went on in my head.
“The window!”
I cried. “Maybe it’s a clue!”

Nick put his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll go inside with you to check.”

“A clue?”
Shawn seemed baffled. “What is this, some kind of game?”

Nick cast him a cold look. “Believe me, this is no game.”

As I walked into the guesthouse with Nick on one side of me and Lou on the other, I didn’t know what I dreaded more: finding something or finding nothing. The same sick feeling still enveloped me, and terrible fantasies about what could have happened to my sweet Maxie played through my head.

Our first stop was the living room window. With shaking hands, I pulled back the curtain.

Nothing. Nick and I stared at the ordinary windowsill for a few seconds, studying it as if it were a fascinating painting.