Chapter Ten
by Cyn
By the time they’d finished their espresso, they’d scratched out a tentative plan of action. As Sadie wasn’t actually assigned to the case, she could only do a bit of checking into things on the side; namely, a brief history on Elaine Jackson, and Marietta’s brother, Jackson Moore. David was on his way to the vet’s office to see what the deal was with Amy Curry. He assumed she had called him because the dead dog mentioned must be Brogus.
“Oh, detective!” the receptionist exclaimed as he entered the outer office a short time later. “I’m so glad you’re here! Amy is so upset. She’s right in the back. Come with me.” The young woman hurried down the same corridor she’d led him down the last time he’d been here, only turned left at the end of the hall, heading in the opposite direction from the dog runs.
“What’s happened, Laura?” he asked, praying he’d remembered her name correctly. He'd only given it a passing thought when he’d come looking for information on Marietta.
“Brogus is dead.” She opened an unmarked door and led him into an exam room much like would be found in a doctor’s office. “Amy, Detective Friedman is here to see you.” She closed the door on her way out.
David warily eyed the white sheet draped over the obvious body of the large dog, and waited for Amy to turn and acknowledge him. He’d noticed her shoulders were shaking, and he knew she’d been crying. He braced himself for what was to come. He didn’t know for sure what to expect, but when she turned to face him, he was shocked to see she hadn’t been crying at all. She was shaking with rage, and he took a half step back in surprise.
“What kind of a monster would do something like this to an innocent animal?” she nearly shouted as she ripped the sheet back from the dog’s head. David idly mused that the dog appeared to be merely sleeping peacefully. There were none of the obvious signs of make-up being applied to try to disguise his lifelessness as with humans, and he abruptly shut off that line of thinking, as he turned his gaze to the VA.
“Do you know what happened?” he asked quietly, unable to stop himself from stroking the soft fur on the dog’s head.
Amy drew a deep breath and stepped closer to the table. “Poisoned, I think,” she replied, anger still evident in her tone.
“Are you going to perform an autopsy?” David asked curiously.
“No.” She sighed softly in resignation. “I couldn’t get the doctor to approve it, and I know that Ms. Blankenship’s brother would never agree to it.”
David couldn’t shake the feeling that it was somehow important that he have this dog’s death investigated further. Something was going on here, and he was determined to find out just what that was. “Do it,” he ordered. “Send the bill to me.”
“I can’t do that either. You aren’t the dog’s owner.”
David drew a sharp breath, and narrowed his eyes shrewdly. “Oh, but I am, Miss Curry,” he murmured, his voice low and softly dangerous in tone. “Don’t you remember? I told you yesterday that I wanted this dog. Perform an autopsy. I want to know what happened to my dog.”