Rose Hill (6 page)

His mother abhorred gossip, so he couldn’t ask her if she’d heard anything about Theo. He asked about his sister, got a blow-by-blow account of her latest phone call, and dutifully admired the newest pictures of his niece and nephew.

“They’ve invited me to come for two weeks next month, so I can be there when the twins are confirmed,” she said.

This led her to lament his missing Mass that morning.

“I was investigating Theo Eldridge’s murder,” he said.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, young man. You could still have let me know you were going to miss church and be late for dinner.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, as all his resistance drained out of him. “I got busy and didn’t think.”

“Didn’t think about me, you mean,” she said. “I’m just your mother, I know. I don’t rate up there with murderers and people from the county sheriff’s office. I didn’t know where you were or what had happened to you. You could have been lying dead by the side of the road, for all I knew.”

She dissolved into tears and he got up and hugged her, even as she pretended to turn away. It felt stuffy in the house, and Scott had an urge to open a window and let some air into the room. His mother had a horror of drafts, however, and he knew from experience that all the windows were painted shut.

When Scott left his mother’s house, awake again from several cups of coffee, he drove out the narrow dirt road known as Possum Holler to Drew Rosen’s house. As he pulled up he could see Drew was attempting to shovel his walkway with a flimsy plastic shovel. Scott pulled a heavy steel shovel out of the back of his SUV and assisted, making better headway using the proper tool. After they had the path cleared Drew thanked him, but he was obviously not glad to see him. Scott returned the shovel to his vehicle and faced the man.

“You want to do this outside or inside?”

Drew invited him in.

The old house was shabby and drafty, and Scott felt sorry for anyone who had to live like this. The recuperating black lab was stretched out on a broken down couch on top of a puffy sleeping bag, and merely acknowledged their presence with a wan lift of the head and listless thump of the tail before going back to sleep. A fire blazed in the large gas box stove, but the warmth only radiated out a few feet before a perpetual icy draft dissipated it.

Scott pulled a chair out from a wobbly kitchen table, on top of which sat a big wooden bowl with an oversized tabby cat in it. Duke opened one golden eye to consider Scott before yawning, stretching, and repositioning himself for a better look. Scott accepted Drew’s offer of tea and reached over to rub the top of the big cat’s head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Drew said, watching with some concern.

“Duke and I are good buddies,” Scott said. “He sometimes accompanies me on my rounds at night.”

Drew gave Scott a dubious look, but Scott nodded.

“He does. And sometimes he comes home with me and sleeps in my kitchen.”

“I’m sorry if he’s making a nuisance of himself,” Drew said. “I advise my clients to keep their cats indoors, but if I try to keep him inside he attacks me.”

“He’s good company,” Scott said. “I don’t mind at all.”

“When I bought the practice the vet’s widow told me Duke was the clinic blood donor cat. The first time I tried to draw blood from him he got more out of me.”

“Owen loved cats, but his wife hates them,” Scott said. “That was probably the excuse he gave her for keeping the cat around. No wonder he doesn’t like you.”

There was a short, reasonably comfortable silence, and then Scott reminded Drew why he came.

“You need to tell me more about the altercation you had with Theo,” Scott said. “You didn’t mention he was your landlord. You also claimed you didn’t recognize his body, but you called Hannah this morning and told her he was dead. When you lie to me and leave stuff out, my imagination fills in all sorts of horrible reasons why.”

Drew stiffened, and at first Scott thought he was going to deny it, but then he sighed heavily.

“Okay,” he said. “You were probably going to find out anyway.”

Scott sat back and sipped his tea while the vet talked.

“Before I took over the practice I looked at the books, so I knew a large part of the revenue came from being the official vet to Theo’s breeding business. He paid Owen a set amount per month for vetting all the dogs, plus bonuses for each litter. I recently discovered, however, that there were no litters, except on paper.”

“What do you mean?”

“Theo had a kennel full of male dogs he would stud out for a fee, but Owen’s files contain documentation, including AKC registrations and vet records, for females Theo didn’t have, and litters that were never born.”

“I don’t understand,” Scott said. “How can it benefit him to have fake dog papers but not dogs?”

“Let me explain,” Drew said. “Theo probably figured stud fees were easy money. He takes a horny male dog to a bitch in heat and nature takes its course 99.9% of the time. Whether or not a litter results, Theo gets paid something. If there’s a litter he gets paid more, or gets his choice of pups, depending upon the deal.”

“How much did Theo make on each try?”

“Anywhere from a couple hundred to a couple thousand is my guess. Breeders are willing to pay more for champion bloodlines, and to prove lineage he needed AKC registration papers, health tests, and vet records. He probably started out with some purebreds, but those dogs are expensive. Also, breeding dogs is a risky business. Bitches and pups can die in whelping, there’s no guarantee any of the pups will be show quality or good breeding stock, and it’s a lot of hard work.”

Drew took a moment to swallow some tea and then continued.

“Due to the limited availability of new breeding stock, dogs will sometimes have medical problems due to line breeding, which means a breeding couple has at least one ancestor in common. When this happens, some offspring may display genetic mutations, like odd color coats, physical defects, or behavioral problems, which keep them out of competition. If the breeders don’t put them down as pups, they have them neutered so undesirable traits won’t be passed on.”

“Put them down for the wrong color coat? That’s pretty cruel.”

“It’s called culling,” Drew said. “Raising and showing dogs is expensive. You are making an investment you hope will pay off in titles, stud fees, and puppy sales. Why would you waste money on stock that will never earn its keep? Breeding champion bloodline dogs is not a business for the faint-hearted.”

“I had no idea,” Scott said.

“Most of the breeders I know personally are in it because they love the dogs,” Drew said. “They make sure healthy, non-standard pups are spayed or neutered so as not to be bred further, and then they keep them as pets or find homes for them. In this way, they keep their reputations and the integrity of their businesses intact. But you can see how indiscriminate breeders might create a surplus of non-revenue-producing dogs.”

“Disposable mutts.”

“You could say that. I think Theo got his dogs from disreputable breeders, or picked up dogs that were not actually from champion bloodlines but looked enough like purebreds to pass. He then created paperwork as if he bred them. He started with females which existed only on paper, claimed one of his “champion” males was the sire, and falsified litter registrations with medical records from a vet to back them up. He found some male dogs that fit the breeding standards closely enough to pass and bingo, he had another generation bringing in stud fees, and he most likely paid little or nothing for the dogs to begin with.”

“And he got them from breeders?”

“I don’t know for
sure,” Drew said. “There are ethical and unethical breeders, just like in any profession. There’s a lot of money and prestige at stake, and not everyone plays by the rules. He may have stolen some of the dogs, or got them from shelters or puppy mills.”

“Why didn’t the people he sold his services to figure out his scam when they got funny colored pups and gun shy bird dogs?”

“My guess is he stayed clear of professionals, and preyed on backyard breeders inexperienced enough to be fooled.”

“So with Owen gone, Theo needed a new vet to sign off on the paperwork.”

“He may have had paperwork stockpiled with Owen’s signature, or he may have been forging Owen’s name since he died. Either way, using a dead vet’s name was bound to catch up with him, especially if he sold his services anywhere locally. People do call and check out these dogs. They’re spending a lot of money, and if they want to know about temperament and health, the vet can give them that information. The reason he came to my office yesterday, besides looking for the black lab, was to demand I provide my signature to the scam.”

“And you told him no,” Scott said.

“Not only did I tell him no, I threatened to go to the police–you,” Drew said.

“I assume he wasn’t pleased with your answer,” Scott said, imagining Theo blowing a gasket.

“Well, first he fired me as his vet,” Drew said. “Then he said I ought to sleep with one eye open, because I was living in a fire trap. And he would know, being the slumlord.”

“Did you know the house next door burned down after the owner refused to sell it to Theo?” Scott asked him. “No one believed it was an accident.”

“I knew it burned down but not how,” Drew said. “Wasn’t that Maggie’s house?”

Scott nodded, tipped his chair back, and ran his hands through his hair, putting these puzzle pieces in place. Drew rose and lit the fire underneath the kettle to make more tea.

“So why didn’t you tell us all this in the station?” Scott asked him.

“Because I hadn’t come to you to report Theo’s breeding scam. I was just bluffing when I told him I would. Not reporting a crime is a crime as well, right?”

Scott thought this over, and decided not to respond.

“Why did you say you didn’t recognize the deceased?”

“Because I didn’t,” Drew said. “I heard who it was over the radio in the squad car when the deputy drove me home.”

Scott mentally cursed whoever it was who gave out the information over the airwaves while they had a suspect in the car. The kettle began to whistle and Drew offered Scott more tea, but he declined. Drew sat back down at the table with his own mug refilled.

Duke flicked his tail over the edge of the large bowl, turned over on his back, and then curled around in the opposite direction. Drew reached out to rub the big cat’s head as Scott had done but drew it back when Duke made a low, ominous sound in his throat.

“So Theo had this fight with you, fired you, and then waited until early this morning to come to the clinic to do what?” Scott said. “Wreck the place? Burn it down?”

“Hannah said he was out to her place looking for the dog. I think he came to the clinic to steal the dog before I could neuter him. Other than the white star on his chest, the dog meets all the breed standards. He could steal the dog, dye the star black, give him new papers, and claim it was his purebred black lab. Wrecking or burning down the clinic afterwards was probably also his plan, just to get back at me.”

“But you would have known the dog was the same one, wouldn’t you? You would have figured it was Theo who’d done it, and could have pressed charges.”

“Maybe,” Drew said. “If he just stole the dog and didn’t destroy the clinic I probably wouldn’t have minded very much. It would be an awful lot of trouble to go to for a stray that would have food, water, and shelter at Theo’s.”

“You have a very elastic moral fiber,” Scott said.

“I’ve treated so many victims of animal abuse,” Drew said. “I may not have approved of his breeding practices, but compared to the lives most dogs lead, Theo’s dogs have it made.”

“Will you be able to make it without Theo’s monthly fees?” Scott asked him as he stood to leave.

“We’ll see,” Drew said. “I may have to move into the office.”

“It would be a distinct improvement over this,” Scott said, not bothering to hide his look of pity.

“There’s not a lot to choose from in this town that isn’t student housing, and my late night partying days are way behind me.”

Scott agreed, but made no suggestions, even though he knew of a couple available places. It wasn’t that there weren’t any, it’s just that arrangements were usually made among Rose Hill families, and rarely accommodated outsiders.

Scott said goodbye, got in his SUV, and then turned around in what used to be Maggie’s driveway next door. The man who plowed the narrow gravel road still plowed that driveway as well, even though there was no house. It was now just a handy place to turn around, an empty lot covered in snow.

Scott was dead tired, but he wanted to see Maggie. When he got to the bookstore he found her helping a student find textbooks using the young woman’s class schedule. As soon as she had the stack of heavy books piled on the counter, she turned the customer over to a clerk and led Scott back to her office.

“I thought classes had already started,” Scott said.

“They have,” Maggie replied. “She’s a late registration transfer.”

“Has it been a good semester so far?”