Bad-Mouthed by Susan J Kroupa

Author:Susan J Kroupa
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dogs, Christmas, sleuth, sniffer dogs, Mexican Americans, dog narrators, cozy mystery dog
Publisher: Laurel Fork Press
Published: 2014-12-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11: Where There's Smoke . . .

The sound of barking awakens me. Not just ordinary “there might be something out there” barking, but “something is seriously wrong” barking. I sit up and lift my ears toward the barn, listening. And then I smell it. Smoke!

I let forth a series of full-volume barks, adding my warning to those of the dogs in the barn.

Molly sits up in bed rubbing her eyes. “Doodle—what's—”

“Doodle, hush!” the boss's sleepy voice comes from the living room.

But I can't hush because they need to know. I bark even louder.

“Doodle!” the boss says, his voice now more angry than sleepy.

Molly sits up in bed and reaches for the lamp. It clicks, but the room stays dark. “Power's out,” she calls. She turns to the window. “What's that?” She yanks on a cord and pulls them up. A tiny light flickers at the roof on the far corner of the barn. Molly leans in close to the window, staring outside.

“Fire!” she yells, so loudly that I jump. She flings open the door to her bedroom. “Fire! Fire!”

The boss jumps off the couch even as Miguel stumbles from the bedroom, a dark form shrugging into a jacket as he hurtles into the kitchen. “The dogs!” he says, swearing under his breath. He's across the kitchen and out the back door in no time, leaving it open as he races in his uneven gait toward the barn. A sharp blast of cold air rushes in, thick with the stench of smoke.

The boss runs to the door, stares after him for a second. Then, he pulls out his phone. “Get your shoes and coat on,” he yells at Molly, jabbing at the keys. “It might not be safe to stay in here if the fire spreads. And get the leash.” And then into his phone, “I need to report a fire. Miguel de Castillo's kennel. The address is—”

Molly runs from the room, then stops. “My camera!” She darts back into the bedroom, returning with her phone in one hand and her camera in the other, shoving each into her jacket pockets just as the boss finishes his call. She snaps the leash onto my collar.

“Come on.” The boss leads the way through the still-open back door. The night sky is bright with stars and a half-moon just rising over the trees. Except by the barn, where the smoke forms a haze that a sharp breeze blows towards us. And, even as we watch, a tongue of flame darts up from the barn roof. The boss hesitates, staring at it.

“The dogs,” Molly whispers in an anguished moan, as we come up beside him. She starts for the barn.

The boss grabs her arm and pulls her back. “No!” he thunders.

“But the dogs! I can help.”

“Too dangerous.”

“I'll be careful.”

“Don't think it's safe to be in the van,” the boss says, as if he didn’t hear. “No time to move it.”

“I can help—”

“Miguel's mailbox. Go wait there. It's far enough away to be safe.” The boss is talking so fast, his words all run together.

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