Monday, May 16

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Sometimes being a cop sucked, Peter mused while he drove down Westwood Northern Boulevard. Viola was in the back seat, panting in his left ear while she caught the breeze coming in the window. All he ever wanted to do was serve and protect. But what happens when doing just that hurts someone? Especially if, for once, he wanted to get closer to that someone. Would Lia always associate him with Luthor? Too bad he didn't have Brent as his full-time partner, he would have made Brent break the news to Lia so she wouldn't associate him with Luthor's betrayal, or with the news that one of her friends was probably a murderer. And if she took his advice and called her sister, well, Sis was probably urging her to leave town . . . permanently.

He thought back to the message he found on his cell when he got out of the shower. She hadn't sounded too disappointed to be talking to voicemail. She said she'd be gone from the park by 8:30, if he wouldn't mind waiting until then to run Viola. Meanwhile, she would call if she thought of anything that might help him. Did she just want some space, or was this a full blown brush-off?

He knew she wouldn't be there, but he still scanned the parking lot for her car as he pulled in. Well, he had background checks an phone records to review, he could give her a day or two. No more than that. Lia was closest to the center of this thing and the first of Detective Dourson's Axioms for Investigators was find the center and stick to it.

Anna pulled up as he was letting Viola out of the back seat. "Why, Detective Peter," she smiled, "You're becoming quite the regular. Does this mean you plan to hang onto Luthor's orphan child?"

"Hello, Anna. Jury's still out. But she's growing on me. It would help if she learned how to vacuum. Or if she could at least shed in a designated shedding zone."

"Designated shedding zone. That'd be a cute trick. You talk to Jim and he'll tell you that her purpose is to teach you all about unconditional love, and if she were perfect, you couldn't love her unconditionally."

"Say again?"

"She has to be flawed. If she didn't inconvenience you in some way, then you'd never have to decide to love her anyway." She opened the back of her SUV and CarGo jumped out. CarGo stood perfectly still while Anna clipped on his leash.

"I'll give that some thought. So Jim is a philosopher, is he?"

"Our very own Will Rogers. I imagine you're too young to remember him."

"I think I had a layover in an airport named after him."

"That would be Oklahoma City."

At the top of the drive, they met Terry exiting the corral. "Greetings, Detective. How goes your investigation?"

"As they say in cheap paperbacks, we are pursuing all leads."

"Ah. And are there any leads?"

"That would be the question, wouldn't it?"

"Did you ever figure out where that gun came from?"

"Still looking. You got any ideas?"

"Not yet, my good man."

"You still got my card?"

"Indeed I do. And the search for the elusive source of Luthor's firearm continues."

Peter shook his head as Terry, Napa, and Jackson headed down the hill. "Does he always talk like that?"

"Like a British country squire? Always, though I've never caught him saying 'pip, pip' or 'tally-ho,' thank goodness."

Peter meandered the park, chatting with the group he privately thought of as "the usual suspects." Anna introduced him to several others. Everyone was interested in Luthor's suicide. All volunteered whether they had witnessed Lia's argument with Luthor, or been in the park at all that day. Nadine charmed him with her sincere interest in his accent and Kentucky upbringing, as well as her appreciation of Appalachian culture. He found himself telling her all about his great-grandmother's quilts and his grandfather's wood carvings.

A Shot in the Bark: A Dog Park MysteryWhere stories live. Discover now