Free Play Dead by Leslie O'Kane Page B

Sage. Come on.”
    I resisted a sigh and said, “Dog’s name
first, then the word ‘come.’”
    “Sage, come.”
    Sage immediately stopped barking and
obeyed. “Good dog,” Beth said, giving him the biscuit and stroking his back.
    Well trained dog, I thought. As soon as his owner could get
the hang of the basics, they’d be in good shape.
    Beth began to unzip a purple fanny-pack on
her hip. “While I’m here, I want to pay you in advance for six weeks of
treatment for Sage.”
    “There’s no reason for you to do that. We
don’t even know for certain that it’ll take six weeks.”
    She hauled out a fistful of twenties. “Maybe
so, but I’d rather pay up while I’m thinking about it. I’ve got the cash now,
and I’m not always so good with keeping track of my money.”
    She handed me the bills, and I gave her a
receipt and thanked her, stashing the cash in my wallet and reasoning that I
could always give her a refund if she had overpaid. “Were the men Sage barked
at before wearing hats, in addition to raincoats?”
    Beth said slowly, “I guess they must have
been, when I think back. I just thought it had to have been the coat. I mean,
who would notice such a little thing as a man’s hat?”
    “Dogs have excellent memories. While it’s
a little unusual to have a memory triggered by something visual and not a smell
or sound, Sage was probably traumatized by a man wearing a hat.”
    “Yeah. Such as one shooting his owner in
the head,” Beth murmured.
    “Maybe, but the trauma could have been
caused by any number of actions.” Which was why I was handicapped in not being
able to ask Hannah Jones about Sage’s personal history. Even so, it should be
fairly easy to counter condition Sage not to bark at men wearing hats. “We’ve
got a starting point now for working with Sage on Monday. But I’m afraid I’m going
to have to take a rain check on breakfast. I’ve got a basketball game to go to.”
    “Oh. Okay. I’ll walk out with you. I’d
like to thank your little man with the enormous crush.”
    I grinned. “Let’s not call him that,
though. I have a feeling he’d take it the wrong way.” I hesitated. With Russell’s
touchiness regarding dogs, I decided there was no point in asking him if we
could drive Doppler home first.
    If I was going to leave Doppler alone for
over two hours, he needed a dog bowl. My coffee cup—which would taint the
water with coffee flavor—wasn’t going to cut it. I’d have to sacrifice my
mayonnaise-jar-cum-flower-vase. I quickly filled the sink, put the flowers in
that water, rinsed out the vase and filled it to the brim.
    “Okay. Let’s go. I need to leave Doppler
here.”
    Seated in his car up ahead, Russell was
getting the anxious look of a man who, though he might never be on time for
anything else in his life, knew that the game’s tip-off was growing near.
    Beth glanced nervously down the street,
barely managing a smile at me as she said goodbye.
    Perplexed by Beth’s change in attitude, I
asked, “Are you going to walk home? We can give you and Sage a ride.”
    “No, I can use the exercise. Besides, that’s
one of the reasons I—”
    A black car screeched to a halt. A male
driver who was so tall his curly brown hair was nearly brushing against the
ceiling of his car rolled down the window. “Beth!”
    “Oh, jeez,” Beth said under her breath, “It’s
Chet.”
    “I’ve been looking all over for you!” he
called, thumping the side of his door through the window. “Figured you were out
walking your dog. What the hell’s going on?”
    “You said you’d pick me up at ten. I gave
up waiting for you.”
    To an outsider, Beth’s decision not to
wait sounded very reasonable, since it was now well after eleven. Chet,
however, hollered, “Shit!” He got out of the car, still in the middle of the
road. He was even taller than I’d first imagined. He looked to be at least
six-foot-five. “I was a couple minutes late. Why make a federal case out