The Chocolate Puppy Puzzle (13 page)

“Lee. Lee!” Her voice was quiet. “There’s somebody outside.”

I sat up. Suddenly I felt wide awake. “What going on?”

“I heard somebody on the porch, right outside my window.”

I got up and grabbed a robe and slippers. Then I went to the bedroom across the hall. I looked out the window over the porch roof, trying to see if someone was in the yard. I couldn’t see anybody, and I couldn’t hear anybody.

“Something slid across the porch,” Aunt Nettie said. “It sounded like sandpaper. But when I looked out, I couldn’t see anything.”

“Did you turn on the porch light?”

“Well, no. I guess I didn’t really want to see anything. Or I didn’t want whoever was out there to see anything.” She sighed. “Maybe it was an animal.”

“A raccoon doing woodworking?” I looked at my watch. Six a.m. Which in Michigan in October means it was still dark as a piece of Aunt Nettie’s bitterest chocolate.

The two of us crept down the stairs and into Aunt Nettie’s bedroom. I peeked through one curtain, and she peeked through another. At first I saw nothing but blackness. But in a moment my eyes grew slightly accustomed to the dark, and I saw something white. It was definitely larger than a bread box. It was about the size of the big packing box my new computer had come in.

“Somebody’s put something on the porch,” I whispered. “But I don’t think anybody is moving around. Let’s turn on the light.”

Aunt Nettie and I went into the living room, and she flipped the switch beside the front door to turn on the porch light.

Immediately an ungodly noise cut loose.

It was a dog barking.

O
nce the light was on, both Aunt Nettie and I recognized the big white object on the front porch. It was a pet crate. And we could hardly mistake the barking.

We spoke in unison. “It’s Monte!”

We rushed out the front door. I expected to see Aubrey’s SUV sitting in the lane. It wasn’t. I ran around the corner of the house and looked in the drive. The porch light was bright enough that I could see there was no SUV. Where was Aubrey? Why was Monte there, but not his master?

Apparently Aunt Nettie felt the same way. “Where’s Aubrey?” she said.

I came back to the porch. “There’s no sign of him. It’s strange. I can’t imagine Monte without him.”

“There’s a note taped to the kennel.”

Aunt Nettie pulled it off and read it, frowning. Then she handed it to me. It was printed in block letters on a scrap of notebook paper.

“I’ll be back in a day or two,” I read. “Please look after Monte.”

Monte had stopped howling, but he was looking out the window in his kennel. He seemed anxious. A large plastic garbage bag sat on the floor beside the kennel. When I looked inside, I saw Monte’s belongings : food, treats, toys, and another thing that seemed to be important at the moment. His leash.

Shivering in the predawn chill—the temperature was in the midforties and I was wearing a robe and slippers—I took Monte out of the kennel and fastened the leash to his collar. He snuffled happily around the porch and followed eagerly when I stepped down onto the front walk. I allowed him to water the grass a few minutes. Then Aunt Nettie took the leash and led him into the house. I brought in the sack of puppy gear. Monte investigated the living room, and Aunt Nettie and I stared at each other.

Aunt Nettie shook her head. “Where could Aubrey have gone without Monte?”

“And why would he leave the dog with us? We’re both at the shop all day. We can’t take him there.”

“And why did he leave him on the porch, kennel and all? Even if he came in the middle of the night, I’d have expected him to come to the door. We’d better try to call him.”

“It’s only six a.m.”

“He’s at the Peach Street B&B. Sarajane will be up fixing breakfast.”

“I’ll make coffee. I guess it’s morning for us, too.”

Sarajane Harding is one of Aunt Nettie’s brisk, nononsense friends. She runs a bed and breakfast inn with four guest rooms, which she handles all by herself. In decor, her B&B simply drips country. Her hat racks are made from garden trellises, the hall is thick with baskets of dried flowers decorated with calico ribbons, the front porch features a watering trough used as a planter, plaster geese march up the stairs, quilts are used as wall hangings. All this contrasts mightily with Sarajane herself, who is a plump sixtyyear-old with straight gray hair she apparently cuts with a bowl. She’s one of the most efficient businesswomen I’ve ever run into.

While I made the coffee and kept an eye on Monte, I eavesdropped on Aunt Nettie’s conversation.

“Sarajane? Sorry to bother you. I know you’re cooking breakfast. But is Aubrey Armstrong there?”

Aunt Nettie paused. “No, I wouldn’t expect him to be down yet. But we thought he must have gone out early.”

Another pause. “Would you mind checking his room?”

She listened. “No, I’m sure nothing’s wrong. But we woke up to find Monte”—Sarajane apparently broke in, but Aunt Nettie went on quickly—“yes, Monte the dog. He was on my front porch in his crate. And there’s a note from Aubrey. He says he’s leaving town.”

I could hear Sarajane’s squawk clearly. “Leaving town!”

“He’s coming back! Sarajane! Sarajane!” Aunt Nettie looked at me with consternation. “She dropped the phone.”

I laughed. “Well, news that Aubrey is leaving town would certainly get Sarajane to run up and check to see if he’s there.”

“Oh, dear. I do hope he hasn’t done a flit. Hogan was so sure it would be all right.”

“Hogan? Chief Jones?”

I wanted to ask more, but Aunt Nettie brushed my question aside. Sarajane was back on the other end of the line.

“His bed hasn’t been slept in? Oh, dear. But his things are there?”

She listened again. “The note he left out here said he had to leave Warner Pier for a day or two. But it certainly indicated he intended to come back. I can’t imagine him leaving Monte. He really loves that dog.”

Sarajane spoke. Aunt Nettie nodded. “Yes. If his clothes and luggage are in the room, it means he intends to come back, Sarajane. But Lee and I don’t understand why he left the dog with us.” She listened. “All right. I’ll wait.”

She turned to me. “Sarajane’s going to check the parking lot.”

“I don’t think she’ll find Aubrey or his SUV there.”

“Neither do I.”

I put out the toaster, then looked through Monte’s sack until I found his food. “Do you know how often Aubrey feeds him?”

Aunt Nettie shook her head. Then she concentrated on the phone. “Oh? I’m afraid I’m not surprised, Sarajane. But don’t worry. I’m sure Aubrey will be back. I’m positive that he wouldn’t leave Monte.”

She hung up. “Sarajane says she didn’t find anything in the guest parking area but a bunch of cigarette butts. Aubrey’s SUV is not there.”

She tapped her fingers on the telephone. “I guess we’d better tell Hogan about this.”

I was surprised. “I don’t think we can report someone missing just because he went off and left his dog.”

“Oh, but Hogan can put out an all-points bulletin or something for Aubrey. I know he doesn’t want to lose track of him.”

I didn’t even ask Aunt Nettie why the police chief would be interested in Aubrey. All I could think of was Sarajane Harding and the Peach Street B&B. Had Aubrey taken off for good? Was he going to leave Sarajane and other Warner Pier merchants stuck with bills? Had he used stolen or phony credit cards?

I’d been worrying about Aubrey fooling Maia, Aunt Nettie, and Tracy. I hadn’t given a thought to his cheating my fellow Warner Pier merchants.

Now I did, and the thought scared me stiff. If my friends and business associates lost money because I’d fooled around trying to let Aunt Nettie down easily, trying to protect Maggie McNutt, it was going to be humiliating. It could even leave me open to some sort of legal problems, I wasn’t sure just what. And it could cost me some friends, and I need all of those I can get.

Then Monte came into the kitchen, snuffling around as he investigated his surroundings.

Could Aubrey really have abandoned Monte? It was hard to believe he’d leave the pup with Aunt Nettie and me. We had no fence, and we couldn’t take him to TenHuis Chocolade for the day.

I could only hope that Chief Hogan Jones would have some suggestion that would lead to finding Aubrey.

I knelt down and scratched Monte under the chin. This made him flop over onto his back for a tummy rub. I complied.

“Monte,” I said. “I wish you’d tell us just where your master has gone. I’m not sure I know how to take care of you.”

In the garbage bag I found a red blanket covered with Monte’s silky brown hair, and I spread it out in the corner of the dining room. Monte sniffed at it, turned around three times in the traditional manner of dogs, then lay down for a snooze while Aunt Nettie and I sat down at the breakfast table. It was then I realized that, for the first time since I’d talked to Maggie McNutt about Aubrey nearly twenty-four hours earlier, I now had a chance to tell Aunt Nettie what I’d learned about him. I sighed.

“Aunt Nettie, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you,” I said. Then I detailed my fruitless Internet search. “Unless I’m looking for Aubrey under entirely the wrong name, I just don’t see how he can be a real movie producer,” I said.

Aunt Nettie smiled. “Oh, I know that, Lee.”

“You do? Then why—”

“Why did I encourage his attentions? Well, there is a reason, but it’s not my secret. But don’t worry about my giving him any money.”

“I know you’re smarter than
that.
”

Aunt Nettie spread peach preserves on her toast. “It’s refreshing for an old woman—”

“You’re not old,” I said.

Aunt Nettie ignored me. “—for an old woman to feel that she can still be attractive to a man. And Aubrey is—I guess the word is ‘likeable,’ Lee. I enjoy being with him, even when I’m reminding myself that every word he says is a lie. He’s good company.”

“I’ll admit that. I’m just afraid you’re going to get your feelings hurt.”

“I might. But even if I do, Aubrey’s been fun. He’s jogged me out of my rut.”

I made a few more attempts to get Aunt Nettie to tell me what had inspired her to court attention from Aubrey if she knew he was moving under false pretenses, but she didn’t answer. So I dropped it. But I felt deeply relieved that she hadn’t been fooled by him.

We ended our breakfast conversation by talking about Monte and why we were stuck with him. Neither of us had any fresh ideas.

As she left the table, Aunt Nettie shook her head. “I guess I’ll take a shower. We’ve still got to get the shop open.”

“I’ll do the dishes and try to think of somebody who can babysit Monte,” I said. “I guess some people leave dogs in those portable kennels all day, but I don’t think Monte’s used to that.”

“I guess we should give him some breakfast.” Aunt Nettie sounded doubtful. “I wouldn’t know how much or how to fix it.”

I had a sudden thought. “You know who has always had dogs? Lindy and Tony Herrera. I’ll give Lindy a ring and ask her about feeding a halfgrown pup.”

My idea turned out to be an inspiration. Lindy first told me a pup like Monte would normally be fed morning and night, and she described how to prepare the food I’d found among his belongings. Then she actually offered to let us leave Monte in her fenced backyard for the day.

“What will Pinto say?” I asked cautiously. Pinto is Lindy’s ancient mixed-breed dog. The three Herrera kids claim she’s named “Pinto” because she’s marked with big black and white spots like a pinto pony. She’s also nearly as big as a pinto pony. Tony Herrera says she’s named for the bean, for reasons Lindy won’t let him explain. But Pinto rules Tony and Lindy’s backyard with an iron paw.

“Pinto’s usually good with pups,” Lindy said. “Since all the kids figured out where babies come from we’ve put her out of the puppy business. But she still has some maternal instinct. I’ll be home today. I can keep an eye out.”

I’d hung up before I remembered that Lindy had promised to tell me some gossip. I made a mental note to ask about it when I dropped Monte off.

It was nearly nine o’clock when I led Monte out to my van and said, “Kennel,” speaking firmly, as Aubrey had. The pup jumped right into his crate, and I felt a thrill of accomplishment. I remembered to give him a dog treat before I shut the door.

I had decided to cart the kennel along, for one thing, because Monte was used to being in it while riding in a car. And for another, Lindy might want to use it if the two dogs had to be separated. I also brought Monte’s blanket, treats, food, and some of his toys. When I arrived at Lindy’s she looked a bit amazed at all the paraphernalia.

“I promise I’ll take it all away this afternoon,” I said. “But I don’t know what you’ll need. I can leave the kennel in the van.”

Lindy knelt down and gave Monte a good tummy scratch. “If he and Pinto don’t get along, I might use the kennel.”

I unloaded the van, then went to the backyard with Lindy to watch as Pinto and Monte got acquainted. Lindy’s prediction seemed to be right. Monte frisked around, yapping and barking at the older dog. Pinto took it for a few minutes, then gave one deep woof and put Monte in his place. She lay down regally and watched the pup explore her domain. Since Lindy’s backyard had a hedge as well as a fence all around it, up the sides and along the alley, Monte had plenty of nooks and crannies to explore.

Lindy and I sat on the back step. “What did you call me about yesterday?” I asked. “I called back, but I missed you.”

“I wondered if you wanted to buy a house.”

“Oh, Lindy, has your house deal fallen through?”

“It looks like it. Wouldn’t you and Joe be interested? Joe could handle a fixer-upper.”

“Joe and I—things are too unsettled between us for us to be buying a house, Lindy. But I thought Ken and Maggie were interested in it.”