Free Bite the Biscuit (A Barkery & Biscuits Mystery) by Linda O. Johnston Page A

the town’s elite, including members of the Ethman family, it had the look of a Swiss chalet. It was only one story high but had a tall, sloped roof, an inviting front porch where people and pets waiting for appointments could hang out in good weather, and multiple paned windows. Its exterior walls were of textured blue.
    Biscuit and I didn’t worry about going past the animals and their owners on the porch, which was crowded since the weather today was good. I wondered how many others were inside in the waiting area.
    I had a feeling this would be a busy afternoon for a certain veterinary technician, which could be a good thing. It might keep my mind off the situation that had never come close to evaporating from my consciousness that day, even when I was busy waiting on customers at my shops.
    Using the path at the side of the hospital, we walked to the back parking lot. I opened a rear door and let Biscuit lead me into the familiar hallway to the daycare area, which was one large room with a gleaming, beige linoleum floor—easy enough to clean if any of their charges had an accident. Along the walls were crates of various sizes, in case any of the visitors did not play well with others. We had a special staff dedicated to the daycare, who got groups of compatible dogs together for learning and playing and having as great a time as possible.
    I sometimes dropped in unexpectedly when Biscuit was here, just to make sure thing were going well for her, and they always were. She was smart, she was friendly, and she was one of the staff’s favorites.
    “Hi, Faye,” I said to the chief caretaker, a forty-something woman whose thinness I attributed at least partly to the energy she used in caring for and playing with her charges. Her dark hair resembled that of the many terriers she helped to watch here—short, kinky, and in disarray. “Here’s my baby. She’ll be here for the next couple of hours.”
    “And you know I’ll take good care of her,” Faye responded with a huge smile. “ We’ll take care of her,” she amended as a couple of other staff members approached, both part-timers who were college kids deciding whether they were interested in becoming veterinarians. They both wore T-shirts that said “Knobcone Vets Rock” over jeans.
    “We sure will,” said one of the boys, Charlie. He reached for Biscuit’s leash and I handed it over.
    “Hey, Biscuit,” said the other one, Al. “Let’s dance.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small doggy treat—not one of mine—and encouraged Biscuit onto her rear paws and into a spin.
    I laughed. “Better watch out or she’ll start training you.” I touched my baby on her head. “See you soon,” I told her.
    I walked through a different door, the one that led into the hospital. I left my bag of treats with the receptionist on duty and she promised to put it in the spot designated to hold items to give out to the patients. Then I went into the rear dressing room, opened my locker, and changed into my well-worn blue vet tech uniform shirt and matching pants.
    When I exited into the main hallway, one of the other techs was walking by, holding a squirming little Shih Tzu. “Teeth cleaning,” Yolanda explained. I nodded and followed her back to the general treatment area, where other dogs under observation were confined in different-sized crates along the wall. She handed me the dog. “Her teeth are in good condition so we don’t have to turn this into major dental care, sedate her or anything like that.”
    “Good.” I watched while she prepared the toothbrush and special canine toothpaste. Her blue uniform shirt looked a lot newer and crisper than mine. Her black hair was pulled back into a bun at her neck, which as always emphasized the sharpness of her dark-complected face. Even so, she was an attractive lady about my age—and as skilled a veterinary technician as I was.
    Holding the pup steady on the metal-topped table in the middle of the room