Free Doghouse by L. A. Kornetsky

arrival would be an understatement: she had taken one look and made for the top of the bar’s shelves and stayed there, no matter how much Ginny had tried to coax her down to meet the newcomer. Apparently, Mistress Penny-Drops was a one-dog cat. Although she hadn’t seemed happy with Georgie, either, for the first time ever.
    â€œYou sure you don’t want a puppy?” he asked Stacy now.
    â€œYou going to pay me enough to move to a larger place that takes dogs?”
    â€œGo fill orders, and leave me to my headaches.”
    She saluted him. “Quiet right now,” she said, casting an eye over the drinkers settled around tables in the back. “I’m going to bring up more vodka, ’kay?”
    â€œBring up another bottle of Dalmore, too!” he called after her.
    The puppy scrambled to his feet at the shout, and looked up at Teddy with eyes that could probably have taken Attila the Hun down at the knees.
    â€œWhat?” he asked it. “You gotta pee, there’s your pad on the floor. And you’ve been fed already. Damned expensive food, too.”
    Behind them, Penny gave another hiss, but it sounded halfhearted.
    â€œHey, little guy.” Ginny pulled herself away from whatever she was doing and pulled something out of her bag, holding it low in front of the puppy’s nose. “Here’s a chew toy more your size, so you can leave Georgie’s bone alone.”
    Parsifal took the toy—what looked like a small rubber mouse—and crunched it experimentally between his jaws. It squeaked, and Teddy sighed.
    â€œHey,” Ginny said, looking around as though the sigh had reminded her. “Did Seth show up yet? I want to ask him something about Deke’s run-in with the law.”
    â€œNo, he’s not scheduled to come in until later. Howmany toys do you carry around in that bag of yours, anyway?”
    â€œOh, yeah, ’cause you never bought Mistress Penny up there any catnip mice. So what was all that about?” She meant the phone call.
    â€œOh good Lord, don’t ask.” Being manager of Mary’s while Patrick went off and opened a new bar across town had never been in his career plan, but here he was. Then again, he’d never thought about private investigations, either. He supposed that was what happened when you refused to make plans: life made ’em for you.
    He sat down and picked up his beer, taking a hard slug. “I swear, between my family and Patrick, I’m changing my phone numbers. Anyway, that ate the time I planned to go over your notes, so just give me the Inigo Montoya summation.”
    â€œRight.” She took a sip of her ginger ale, then wiped the sides of the glass with her napkin. “First off, there’s no way that Deke didn’t know that there were dogs in his basement,” she said. “Right?”
    Teddy sighed again. “Yeah.” He liked the guy, from what he’d seen, but he’d been the one to find Parsifal, and there was no way the little guy had just wandered in from outside and gotten stuck in that basement. And Deke was still living in the house, at least for a few more days, so squatters couldn’t have set up, even assuming the landlord wasn’t keeping an eye on things, so they couldn’t blame anyone else.
    Plus, there had been that smell in the basement. Theshelter case had been enough for him to recognize the smell of a kennel, even underneath the faded stink of industrial-strength cleansers. Animals had been kept in that basement. More than one small puppy, for more than one or two days.
    â€œDamn it.” Clearing someone of a false accusation was one thing. This . . . He had told Seth that if it looked like Deke was guilty, they were dropping the case. But the evidence of one puppy wasn’t enough to convict of illegal behavior, just dumbass lying to the people trying to help him.
    â€œBut we’ve already established that