The Dog-Eared Diary: A Chrissy the Shih Tzu Mystery

-   1   -

The side of her fist slammed onto the polished desktop, moving the air toward Oxnard Peabody’s face. He detached himself from her toxic energy by wondering why she never spent money on a manicure. Nail polish might ease her nail-biting habit and professional attention could smooth the jagged cuticles made by her relentless oral assault on her fingers.

You’re keeping something from me, and I want to know what it is!

The secrets I keep are for your own good, Beatrice. Oxnard sighed. His sister tested his patience on a regular basis. He never understood where her anger came from, always bubbling below the surface.

Beatrice folded her arms defiantly, her stance planted, unwilling to yield. Her expensive peach-colored cotton dress hung shapelessly on her lanky figure, with flat brown leather sandals cheapening the look. Oxnard took a deep breath, trying to reclaim the air Beatrice sucked from the room. Suggesting a stylist would send her through the roof. He had learned to divert his attention over the years to her appearance as a stress-management strategy when she was in attack mode.

They had been through all this before. Oxnard knew she was hell-bent on changing everything in her favor and discovering family secrets he promised his father he would keep. Oxnard dug his shiny black wingtips into the worn rug under his desk.

A sinister grin filled Beatrice’s face. I’m next in line to inherit the stone mansion.

The house is not meant for you.

Then for who?

Be happy with your trust fund and leave the rest to me.

You don’t even live there. Why not hand it over while you’re still alive?

There is a reason I don’t live there, Beatrice. Besides, Great-Grandfather Horatio left specific stipulations regarding the house.

Now that it’s yours, you could change that condition."

His mouth turned down. Don’t you think I’d want to live in our family’s legacy? And you along with me?

Aren’t you afraid I’d kill you in your sleep? she said with an unnerving smirk.

Even though his sister sounded as if she was teasing him, the thought had gone through his mind as a serious possibility. Oxnard had feared for his life many times after spats during their life under the same roof as children. Battles occurred for a variety of reasons: sibling rivalry, possessiveness over a toy or book, or academic envy, such as on days when their report cards reflected Oxnard’s superiority. All triggered physical confrontations and consequential groundings. Oxnard was a quiet child, preferring books to people. From the day Beatrice appeared, his life had changed and his stress increased.

He struggled to hold his rolling executive chair in place the way he had held his fear around Beatrice. His deepest desire was to get far away from his sister’s fury.

I certainly hope not. Oxnard’s voice was steady, but his pulse raced.

Beatrice let out a disbelieving growl. What’s the reason, then?

Father said the house was evil.

The look on Beatrice’s face told him she was not buying the story.

Oh, come on, Oxnard. You don’t really believe that, do you? There’s no such thing!

Oxnard saw Beatrice’s dark brown eyes flash the way they used to just before she sucker-punched him in childhood, and he knew that, in fact, evil did exist.

He told me to protect you.

I don’t need protection, but you do. Beatrice grimaced.

Oxnard shook his head, suddenly exhausted.

How many times are we going to have this conversation? Let it go.

Not likely.

Oxnard let out the breath he did not know he was holding.

Don’t negate the family history. Think about how unlucky Great-Grandmother Abigail was in that house. She was ill before her disappearance. Great -Grandfather Horatio suffered from alcoholism. Grandfather Maynard lived there until Grandmother Jillian had a miscarriage. She refused to live there after that. Once they moved, they were able to have Father. Mother and Father chose not to live there to avoid the dread that surrounds that building and the bad luck that follows.

I’ve heard the story before. You know as well as I do it was simple superstition and a series of unfortunate events that could have happened to any alcoholic and his family. The stress could have caused a miscarriage for our grandparents.

Oxnard sighed, as weary of the repetition as Beatrice. He had hoped the stories would compel her to believe the house was evil. He knew it was not. The only thing malevolent about the house was the heavy energy left by those who lived there. His family members were champions at creating negativity for each other, just as Beatrice did for him.

I signed over Mother and Father’s house to you and bought one for myself. Isn’t that enough?

Beatrice ignored his generosity and challenged Oxnard. I could make the board of the Peabody Foundation decide. She shoved her glasses higher on her beaked nose with her middle finger.

The Peabody Mansion is not part of the Foundation. It is mine. The board has no say in this matter. This discussion is over. Oxnard’s innards felt like mush. He was ready for Beatrice to leave.

I disagree. There’s a way around everything, and I’m going to find it.

Let’s just get through the day, shall we? Oxnard was tired by this discussion and by her presence.

A hard knock on the heavy wood-paneled door interrupted the argument. Oxnard was thankful to whoever was on the other side of the door. Beatrice pressed her lips together in frustration.

Come in!

Greg Manning, caretaker of Peabody Mansion and manager of the Peabody Festival, packed the doorway with his imposing muscular build and sandy blond hair. Greg had been a trusted member of the Peabody staff for the majority of his thirty-seven years, having started out of high school. Beatrice and Oxnard’s father, Edgar, had hired him for a summer to care for the outside of the mansion. He had never left, and Greg’s duties expanded.

His bold good looks and flirtatious ways made him a legend among the women in town. Oxnard had seen women practically swoon in his presence. At first, Oxnard could not understand why they fell for Greg’s manipulations eighty percent of the time and competed for his attention.

Oxnard’s own neat, book-smart appearance did nothing to win him a wife. Then again, his focus on work and family matters made him withdraw from social gatherings, which did not align with courtship. Charm was not his strong suit. He had reasoned that dependability is a trait women want, but discovered by watching Greg’s amorous ways that flattery and attention worked better.

Beatrice glared at him. Oxnard noticed that Greg’s wink and bright smile did nothing to melt the icy stare.

Are you coming out soon? The place is getting mobbed and they’re looking for the master of ceremonies to kick things off.

Oxnard did not enjoy public speaking and his argument with Beatrice did not put him in a social mood. This task would test his acting skills to the breaking point.

Yes, as soon as we’re finished with our conversation.

I think we’re done, said Beatrice, for now.

Beatrice stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind her.

Greg stared after her and then looked at Oxnard, who shrugged. Greg nodded in understanding. He had experienced many fights between the siblings over the years. It was a way of life and a constant source of embarrassment for Oxnard.

Give me a minute, said Oxnard.

OK, boss, said Greg as he quietly closed the door behind him.

Oxnard stayed in his chair, praying that she would not ruin the annual Peabody Festival in honor of Great-Grandfather Horatio. A slight tremor moved through his body, as it did after each encounter with Beatrice. He wanted to love her, to take care of her, but she made that so very hard.

-   2   -

Autumn Clarke; her Shih tzu, Chrissy; and best friend, Stephanie Douglas, walked through the late-August heat shimmering over the annual Peabody Festival grounds. Packed with locals and visitors alike, the festival was an important part of Knollwood’s economy. The town benefitted from the influx of tourists who patronized the bed and breakfasts, restaurants, and Main Street retailers. The number of vendors and booths at the festival seemed to double over last year, with rows of tents added to the center of the fair grounds and an expanded stage area.

Autumn and Stephanie scanned the schedule of speeches and bands. The map of vendor tables handed to them at the gate helped them strategize to visit as many booths as possible before twilight fell. Once it got dark, the blasts from the fireworks would upset Chrissy and make her whole body tremble. Autumn wanted to be home before that happened.

Autumn watched Chrissy’s tail bounce up and down as her hips swayed side-to-side. Chrissy sniffed the freshly mowed grass and sneezed.

Bless you, sweetheart, said Autumn.

Chrissy looked up at Autumn with a glistening nose, wagged her tail, and continued her joyful trot. Autumn watched her, proud that Chrissy had come such a long way in the four months since she’d lost her daddy and Autumn became her pet parent. Chrissy’s resilience inspired Autumn to move past her own grief at the loss of her parents eight months before.

The soaring heat did not seem to bother Chrissy, despite her long, silky hair. The warm breeze cut into the humidity and blew through Chrissy’s bangs. Autumn had the water bottle and portable cup at the ready in case her precious Shih tzu got thirsty

They strolled past lines of eager patrons waiting to cool down at the water ice, lemonade, and ice cream stands. They had started at the row to the right of the entry gate, and were about a quarter of the way through, stomachs growling as lunchtime approached. As if in response to their hunger pains, a bright yellow tent with bold flowing red font advertised Coleman’s Kitchen. Autumn and Stephanie smiled at each other and sped-up the pace. Lisa Coleman greeted them with a big smile and open arms.

Ladies! Thanks for stopping by!

We wouldn’t miss it! said Autumn and Stephanie in unison as if they planned it. The two women had been best friends since they roomed together at Villanova and often finished each other’s sentences.

Stephanie’s enthusiasm about Lisa’s cooking skills began after tasting her crab quiche at Autumn’s house. It was nice to have a neighbor so accomplished in the culinary arts.

Autumn was proud of Lisa’s decision to pursue a career she loved, especially after the awful experience she had at the law firm she worked for this past spring. She had a couple of years left in her culinary program at The Restaurant School in Philadelphia, but that did not stop her from opening her own restaurant in the meantime. She’d learned to cook from her mother, who passed away from cancer, and found that she was a natural chef. Lisa’s father, Steve Coleman, supported his daughter’s dream. He and Lisa lived a few doors down from Autumn, and Steve was pet parent to Chrissy’s best friend, Mickey the white standard poodle.

How’s business at the restaurant? Autumn asked.

Good. My biggest competition is Patsy’s Deli, but my rotating menu keeps patrons tired of the same old lunch coming in. Patsy’s makes breakfast, too, but I don’t think I’ll move into that. Maybe I’ll start serving dinner or catering at some point, but with school, I just don’t have the time to do anything but lunch.

They bit into the samples of Lisa’s signature Mediterranean sandwich with lemon hummus, assorted veggies, and feta cheese on naan.

Mmm, Autumn groaned, this is so good.

Stephanie nodded, her mouth full.

Lisa beamed.

Do you have a full-size version available? Stephanie asked, looking around for a table. She spotted one at the corner of Lisa’s tent.

Yep. What do you want to drink?

Water’s fine, said Autumn. I’ll take a Mediterranean sandwich, too, please.

Despite Lisa’s insistence to the contrary, Autumn and Stephanie purchased their lunch. They were all for supporting their friend’s enterprise. Lisa threw a couple of jumbo chocolate chip cookies on the tray as a bonus.

Enjoying the shade under the tent, Chrissy got her bowl of water and a grain-free snack and settled in the cool grass beneath the table. It was the perfect respite before continuing their exploration of the festival offerings. They perused the list of vendors and activities as they ate. A child ran by with his face painted like a tiger.

I think we can skip the face-painting booth, said Stephanie with a chuckle.

Agreed, said Autumn.

Hi, Miss Douglas! a little girl called from a nearby table.

Stephanie taught fifth grade at Knollwood Elementary school and often saw her students out and about.

Hey, Cindy! Are you having fun? Stephanie waved to Cindy’s mother sitting next to the child. Hi, Mrs. Tandy.

The woman waved, her mouth around a sandwich.

You have Miss Jenkins for sixth grade, right?

Yeah, Cindy sounded disappointed.

You’re going to love her. She likes to have fun in her classroom. Plus, you’re a terrific student, so you’ll do great.

Cindy brightened and then spotted Chrissy. Can I pet your dog? Cindy asked with a sparkle in her eyes as she looked at Autumn.

Sure, she loves the attention. Her name is Chrissy, Autumn said.

Cindy bent down and reached under the table. Chrissy came out, wagging her tail, to make it easy for the girl to reach her.

Hi, Chrissy. You’re so soft! Your bow is so pretty.

Chrissy’s topknot set-off by a pink satin flower clip was a kid pleaser every time. Cindy’s touch was very gentle.

Hey! She just smiled at me!

Autumn did not doubt it. Chrissy had an expressive face.

Stephanie saw Mrs. Tandy signaling for Cindy to return to the table.

I think your mom wants you. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, OK? said Stephanie.

Cindy nodded reluctantly, said goodbye to Chrissy, and went back to her lunch.

Brad Hall, another of Autumn’s neighbors, walked by in his park ranger uniform, at the festival in an official capacity. He waved. Autumn knew his wife, Julie, was at the festival, too, operating the bake-sale booth to raise money for school activities.

Let’s go find Julie, suggested Autumn. She moved her finger along the festival map. Her booth is a few down from this one.

They did not have to look hard, since Chrissy spotted her friend, Teddy the Yorkshire terrier before Autumn and Stephanie realized they had arrived at the booth. Julie and Brad were Teddy’s pet parents. Chrissy pulled Autumn to where her friend stood, wagging his tail.

Can I interest you in something to enjoy at home? Julie smiled at them as she reached down to pet Chrissy. How are you, little one?

I’m running low on snickerdoodles, so how about a small pack of those? Stephanie dug in her purse for the money.

I’ll take a pack of chocolate chip cookies and that chocolate coconut Bundt cake.

Julie raised her eyebrows. Buying for two, I take it?

Autumn smiled. As a matter of fact, yes. Ray has a sweet tooth.

That’s why he picked you, isn’t it? Julie laughed at her own joke. You’ve gotten quite close over the last few months. You’re the talk of the town.

Well, investigating a murder is an intimate affair.

Autumn and Ray had solved the murder of Chrissy’s original pet parent. Ray and his German Shepherd Dog, Ace, saved Autumn and Chrissy from getting killed themselves. It’s not every day you find a guy who is protective and understanding of my post-traumatic stress disorder.

Autumn had lived with PTSD for the eight months since the fatal car accident that killed her parents. She still missed them, but Ray brought his healing love to her rescue, as did Chrissy.

"One day