A Shot in the Bark: A Dog Park Mystery (Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries) by C. A. Newsome

Author:C. A. Newsome [Newsome, C. A.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Published: 2013-11-18T00:00:00+00:00

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Anna and Lia sat on either side of Terry's girlfriend, Donna. Bitter coffee dregs in disposable cups littered a Formica side table. The waiting room clock was silent, and had not appeared to move the last five times Lia looked at it. Bailey sat on a turquoise vinyl institutional couch opposite, Jim next to her. Lia stared dully at the cracks in the aging upholstery.

"When did you find him?" Bailey asked.

Donna twisted a tissue into a rope, set it aside, picked up a styrofoam cup. "It was about one. I'd been making lunch while he worked on the roof, and when he didn't come in, I went to let him know it was almost ready. He was on the side steps, all broken up and bleeding. If he wasn't already in the hospital, I'd kick him. I've been after him for years to get ladder levelers. He said it was a waste of a hundred bucks. I'm going to waste him when he comes out of this . . . if he comes out of it." Tears rolled down her face. One dripped off her chin, landing in the cold cup of coffee she held.

"Do they know the full extent of the damage?" This from Jim.

"They'll have to remove his spleen and maybe one of his kidneys. He cracked his skull. They don't know yet how bad the head injury is. Both legs are broken. He was unconscious when I found him. He might be in a coma. They say when he comes around, even if he doesn't have any other brain damage, he'll probably have some memory loss."

"It's weird," Bailey interjected. "He called me this morning while I was still at the park. He wanted to know about my dad's old gun. He thought it might have been the gun Luthor had, but it's the wrong make. Terry was looking for a Luger. My dad had a Walther PPK and always joked about his 'James Bond' gun. And besides, I gave it away ages ago. Did he tell you about that?"

Donna smiled wryly. "You know Terry with a puzzle, he just doesn't let go. I swear that man's life mission is to find Jimmy Hoffa. He's been muttering about seeing the gun somewhere before, but he hadn't told me he thought it was yours."

Just then, Terry's sons, Joe and Robert, returned from the cafeteria. "We brought you some tapioca, Donna. Didn't think you'd be up to much else. Has there been any news?" She shook her head, grimaced, took the pudding, looked at it, then put it aside.

"I'm not ready for food yet, my stomach is still turning itself inside out. But I know I'll have to eat something before too long." She thought of the cold tomato soup and stale sandwiches on her kitchen counter. "I missed lunch. Terry's going to be so mad. I made Rueben sandwiches, and those are his favorite. I don't make them often because the sauerkraut smells up the house. If he pulls out of this, I'll make them every day, every meal, until he begs me to stop.

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