Free 2 Murder Most Fowl by Morgana Best

the dog bath, and was proceeding to wash himself in there, clothes and all. I handed him a bottle of dog shampoo, grabbed some towels, and spread them over the front seats.
    Sandy was tired after her adventure, so I drove back to the boarding house, with Sandy asleep on the front seat, and Mr. Buttons still washing himself in the dog bath in the back of the van.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

A dog is one of the remaining reasons why some people can be persuaded to go for a walk.
    (O.A. Battista)
    Chapter Twelve .
     
    The morning after my embarrassing experience at dog training, I was up just before 7, hoping to avoid all the dog owners in town. I didn’t think Mr. Buttons would want to see me again too soon either. I ate a simple breakfast of coffee, yogurt, fruit, and half a bar of chocolate, then loaded Sandy into my pet grooming van and drove to the off-leash dog park on the edge of town.
    The off-leash dog park was more of a walking trail than a play area for dogs, and was simply part of an old farm, now overgrown and with a deep, eroded gully running up the middle of its entire length. It was dotted with wattle trees and gum trees, and there were fallen branches everywhere, thanks to the latest storm. Gum trees drop their branches easily.
    When I walked with Mr. Buttons, we walked around the streets of town, but when I walked alone, I always came to the dog park. Unlike most off-leash dog parks, this park was not securely fenced. To make matters worse, on one side of the park was the highway, and on the other side was the railway line. Granted, trains only ran through Little Tatterford twice a day, but it was still not the safest place to have a dog off leash, and especially not now that the weather was warming up, bringing with it the danger of snakes.
    I liked the park for its peace and quiet, and I rarely saw any other people there. Sandy loved going to the dog park, and she ran forward as much as her leash would allow, sniffing at the kangaroo and rabbit droppings she found on the side of the trail. Rabbits often darted in front of us, but Sandy didn’t seem to notice them, being more content to sniff the questionable delights at ground level.
    As I walked, I thought about Cressida’s predicament. I had no desire to try to solve two murders, but what choice did I have? And it wasn’t as if I had done any semesters of criminology at university. All I knew about solving crime came directly from watching TV, and American TV crime shows at that. Our system was quite different; we do not have elected sheriffs in Australia, just a government appointed police system. The sheriffs in Australia are government appointed and pretty much only evict non-paying tenants and seize property from debtors – civil law only, no crime solving involved. Still, I did watch a lot of crime shows, and the only sheriff I could think of was Rick from The Walking Dead . Thinking of Rick made me think of Sergeant Blake Wessley, as they looked similar, although Blake was of a thicker build. I smiled to myself.
    I was so deep in thought that I squealed when someone called my name. I looked up and found I was face to face with Blake. Blake had been jogging, and was dressed in gym shorts and a sweatshirt that was dark with sweat across the chest. Sandy wagged her tail furiously and tried to jump all over him. He reached down and patted Sandy on the head.
    “Thinking hard?” Blake asked.
    “Yes,” I said, tightening my grip on Sandy’s leash. My cheeks were burning and I felt quite guilty, as I’d just been thinking about him.
    “Cressida?”
    “Yes,” I lied.             
    “I thought so,” Blake said, his face grim.
    “Have you had a chance yet to speak to the detectives about the new evidence?”
    Blake shrugged, and then he pointed to a bench made out of iron framing and wooden slats on the side of the path, slightly behind me. Blake made his way to it, and I followed him, all the while having to restrain Sandy