Free To Catch a Treat by Linda O. Johnston Page A

I’d once believed that I’d found the love of my life—a handsome guy, a corporate executive named John who owned Rambo, one of the sweetest pit bulls I’d ever met. But to further his career, John decided to move to an upscale condo built by one of his company’s affiliates. There were restrictions there about dogs—size and breed.
    Without even discussing it with me, he’d decided to get rid of Rambo by dumping him at a public, high-kill shelter.
    Fortunately, he admitted it to me in time for me to rescue Rambo. I helped to find the dog a new home through the vet clinic where I worked at the time. Then I dumped John the way he’d dumped Rambo, half wishing I could leave him in a high-kill shelter.
    Since I wasn’t sure how many people would be at the party that night, let alone dogs, I’d decided to leave Biscuit at home so I wouldn’t have to worry about making sure she stayed right beside me and wasn’t the subject of any other dog’s playfulness or wrath. I took her out for a quick walk in the waning daylight. When I shut her into the kitchen, she scowled at me and cocked her head, as if objecting to this heinous treatment.
    â€œI won’t stay late,” I promised.

    I arrived at the resort in my car a short while later, took a ticket from the machine at the entry, and tried not to think about how much parking in this lot would cost even with a validation for buying drinks and some snacks here. Neal, a peon on the resort’s staff, could only help once in a while.
    I found a spot fairly quickly, though not close to the door. Then I locked my car and headed in.
    Good timing. On the way I saw Reed walking a row ahead of me and hurried to catch up with him. “Hi,” I called. He hadn’t brought Hugo, either, so we’d both be dogless for the evening.
    He turned immediately. “Hi,” he called back, stopping and grinning under one of the parking lot lights. When I reached him, I was pleased that he bent down and we kissed—not extremely sexily, but in a way that suggested more than remote friendship.
    â€œSo what are you anticipating for this evening?” he asked. “What’s the situation with Janelle and her dog?”
    Since I’d already explained to him over the phone all I knew, he was aware that I wanted to see the clinic file on the dog known as Boomer, for c omparison once I’d gotten more information from Go’s vet.
    â€œGuess we’ll just have to see how things evolve tonight,” I told him.
    He bowed slightly, waving me through the door first in a gentlemanly manner, and I nodded my thanks, grinning.
    The large reception area at the resort was crowded, as it was so often. I decided to first see if Neal was behind the desk before I headed to the bar to find out whether Janelle’s festivities had started.
    I gestured to Reed to join me. “I want to check on my brother,” I told him over the noise of the crowd.
    We passed the offices along the outer wall. All were closed. As far as I knew from Neal’s reports, the senior owners of the place, Trask and Susan Ethman, still weren’t around much. They’d continued to leave management of the resort in the hands of their daughter Elise Ethman Hainner, ever since the death of the prior manager, their son Harris’s wife, Myra.
    When we reached the reception area, I saw my bro deep in conversation with slender, blonde Elise, who was dressed professionally, expensively, and well, with a perfectly made-up face. I’d known practically since my arrival at Knobcone Heights that the Ethmans had money, and this resort helped add to it. Elise’s expression seemed amused, not irritated, so I figured Neal wasn’t in trouble, even though he was currently occupied. “Let’s head for the bar,” I said to Reed.
    â€œGreat. I could use a drink.”
    Once more, we had to maneuver our way around groups of loudly chatting