Free PW02 - Bidding on Death by Joyce Harmon Page A

chairs and tables and boxes. But no people. The only sign of life was a little dog, racing frantically around the deserted scene, sniffing and whining piteously.
    Having gone to bed ridiculously early, I woke up ridiculously early too. It was just after dawn, and beautifully still. I stretched luxuriously. The bed was all mine, the room was all mine…
    Wait a minute. I sat up. No Jack. No Polly stretched out on the floor. I remembered that eerie dream and shivered. To break the silence, I spoke aloud, repeating the old Western cliché, “It’ s quiet out there. Yeah, TOO quiet.”
    What had happened to Paco? Had Jack strangled him? Did Polly get past the baby gates and dismember him? Did Jack get fed up and dump him outside, where he was running loose who knows where?
    I slipped into my robe and slippers and headed downstairs.
    In the kitchen I found Polly. She was asleep curled up against the baby gate into the laundry room. She raised her head as I came in, and then put her chin back on her paws. I looked over her. On the other side of the baby gate, Paco was curled into a ball, pressed up against Polly with the gate between them.
    Awww. I love my dog.
    Paco woke up then, jumped up and started shrilling. I sighed and went to the sink to start the coffee and soak some kibble. He’d at least be quiet while he ate.
    Jack came in then, looking rumpled and heavy-eyed – adorable, actually. That set off Paco, and Jack winced. I gave him a hug and a sympathetic kiss. “Hon,” he said, trying to be patient, “ I’m not a dog hater, but that high-pitched business is getting on my last nerve.”
    “It is grating, isn’t it?” I agreed. “But maybe he’ll stop whining so much when he adjusts to being here. When I came down just now, Polly was over by the gate and he was being quiet.”
    “I don’t want him to adjust to being here!” Jack objected. “I want him to not be here!”
    “I’d turn him over to Rose’s next of kin or executor in a heartbeat, if I only knew who that was. But if I bother Luther about it, he’ll think I’m meddling again.”
    “I’ll talk to Luther about it,” Jack vowed. “I’ll tell him I only want to know to get the dog where he belongs. I’ll explain that my sanity is at stake.”
    I made us both an enormous breakfast to compensate for the trials of the previous night and fortify us for the trials of the day. Jack left to check on his precious wine and then track down Luther, and I tried a bold experiment.
    I let Paco out of the laundry room.
    Tough Stuff had been sitting on the floor, tail regally coiled around his feet, staring at Paco coldly. Paco celebrated his freedom by dashing up to TS, barking hysterically. I know Tough Stuff’s capabilities; he was perfectly able to levitate out of Paco’s reach without breaking a sweat. Instead he stood his ground and, as soon as Paco got within reach, smote him a mighty blow to the muzzle.
    Paco yelped in astonishment. Seems no one had briefed him about cat claws. Then he turned tail and dived back into the laundry room, with Tough Stuff right behind him.
    It was time to break this up. I followed them into the laundry room to find Paco at bay between the washer and dryer, and Tough Stuff guarding the pass. I picked up TS and dumped him out the back door, then went back and squatted in the laundry room to assess the situation. There was a scratch on Paco’s muzzle, and a few drops of blood. He started whining again.
    Polly started whining in sympathy, but then lifted her head and raced to the back door. The infallible dog alarm. Now I heard it too, a vehicle engine, coming to a halt in the back yard. I looked out the window. It was Julia.
    I flung open the door and called dramatically, “Save me!”
    Julia was out of the Expedition and heading up the walk. She knew exactly what I was talking about. “Paco?”
    “Paco. He whined most of the night. Jack took a sleeping bag out to the barn.”
    We were in the kitchen now, and Julia