Free The Murders at Astaire Castle (A Mac Faraday Mystery) by Lauren Carr Page B

ashamed to see them?”
    “By hurt, I’m assuming you’re not talking about shooting them,” Mac replied.
    “No.” David failed to smile at his attempt at humor.
    “Is this Riley you’re referring to?”
    Instead of answering, David glanced over at Mac while checking the traffic before turning left onto Spencer Point. “Is there?”
    “David,” he replied, “I think anyone who has ever gone through their teens and high school has something or someone in their past that they’re ashamed of.”
    David drove through the stone pillars marking the entrance to Spencer Manor. In silence, he rolled the cruiser into its stall in the garage and turned off the engine. Without a word, he unclipped his seat belt.
    “Want to talk about it?” Mac asked.
    “Not really,” David said in a quiet tone. “I’m tired. I’ll probably feel better about everything after a good night’s sleep.” He opened the door before turning back to Mac. “Thanks.” Without further explanation, he went straight to his guest cottage.
    Mac got a good laugh when he stepped through the front door to see a white plastic cone sticking up above the top of the loveseat, which was positioned with its back to the front door. It resembled an upside down dunce cap.
    In spite of Mac’s efforts to keep him off the furniture, Gnarly had taken possession of the living room loveseat. Gnarly marked the sofa as his with three of his toys: a stuffed green gecko, a yellow rubber duck and a bone filled with peanut butter. It was the one piece of furniture that he was able to climb up on in Mac’s presence without provoking a stern glare. Though he couldn’t prove it, Mac suspected Gnarly of climbing up onto other pieces of furniture when he wasn’t around to police him—and that he did so with Archie’s approval.
    Like a child having a bad day, Gnarly hugged the gecko between his two front paws, rested his head on it, and watched his parents discuss his latest misadventure.
    Seeing the white cone, Mac came around the loveseat to find Gnarly staring straight ahead as if he was unsure of what to do. “So they put the white cone of shame on you, huh?” he said as if Gnarly could respond to tell him the whole story.
    “Don’t make fun of him.” Carrying two wine glasses, Archie came out of the kitchen and climbed up the steps from the drop down dining room. She handed one of the drinks to him.
    “It was only a bite,” Mac said. “Why the cone?”
    “They had to lance the bite and clean the wound,” she said. “There’s no telling what that wolf man was carrying.”
    “That still doesn’t explain the cone.”
    Gnarly hung his head. He was such a proud dog. Big and strong, he ruled everywhere he roamed—including the general store across the bridge where Mac had an account to cover the dog toys and treats that he regularly went in and lifted.
    “After cleaning his wound, they stitched it up and had to put on the cone to keep him from tearing the stitches,” Archie said.
    “It was only one bite,” Mac argued. “I’ve been more seriously hurt doing some of that stupid gardening that you drag me into every spring and I’ve never had to wear a cone on my head.”
    Gnarly let out a bark as if to voice his agreement.
    “It broke the skin,” she said. “This man that attacked Gnarly has been living in the wild—Probably the last time he bathed was a decade ago—”
    “True,” Mac agreed.
    “Not to mention brushing his teeth,” she continued. “I’m sure he hasn’t been brushing his teeth—It’s surprising he even had any teeth to bite Gnarly. Did you know that a couple hundred years ago the number one cause of death was tooth decay?”
    “I knew that,” he said.
    “Well, it isn’t Gnarly turning into a werewolf or whatever it is dogs who get bit by wolf men turn into,” she said. “It’s lime disease or rabies or any number of germs and bacteria that this man was carrying in his mouth when he bit Gnarly. Dr. Lee said that the