Muddy Mouth: A Dog Park Mystery by Newsome C. A

Author:Newsome, C. A. [Newsome, C. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: C. A. Newsome

Peter kept Honey and Viola close while he surveyed the crowd gathering on the library lawn. The century-old, red brick building was a classic Carnegie library, one of their standard designs. “What do you think about sitting under the tree?” he asked Brent, who was carrying three camp chairs, their straps slung over his shoulder.

“I think I don’t care, as long as I get to put these chairs down.”

Chuck, Sarah’s assistant librarian, was a tall and substantial young man with a long ponytail and impressive wizard’s beard. He stood on the walkway in front of the building, swinging his arm back and forth in the air to catch their attention.

“C’mon up here,” he yelled.

They walked up the rise to meet Chuck, who bent down to pet the dogs.

“You have plastic bags in case they hear the call of nature?”

Peter pulled the end of a grocery bag out of his pocket to show Chuck, who responded with a fist bump.

“My man. View’s better from here. It’s best from the top of the steps, but Diane and Barbara called dibs on those spots in February. They have seniority and got to pick first. You can also sit on the steps, but you need serious cushioning to stand the concrete for two hours.”

“The shade is down by the bus stop,” Peter pointed out.

“Feel free, but you’ll get crushed,” Chuck said.

“We have hats,” Brent said. “I think we can handle a little sun.”

“Good choice. I’m your unofficial host.” He put his hand in his pocket, and withdrew a key ring. “I have keys to the back door. If you find yourself in need of the facilities, let me know. I’ll be sitting over there.” Chuck pointed to an empty camp chair next to a cooler.

They set up the chairs. Peter sat in the middle. Viola, who liked to lurk in dark, den-like spaces, crawled underneath. Honey sat in front of Peter, grinning.

“Why do you get to sit in the middle?” Brent asked. “I want to sit in the middle.”

“You just want to sit next to Cynth. She made me promise that she would not have to sit next to you. What did you ever do to her, anyway?”

“Well, we’re here,” Brent said, changing the subject. “What do we do now?”

“Let’s see,” Peter said. “It’s not quite eleven-twenty. The parade starts in 40 minutes, then it will take another hour to get here and will last at least an hour after that.”

“We have to wait an hour and forty minutes before this gala event gets off the ground?” Brent asked, incredulous. “What is it about Cincinnati, that the locals enjoy crowding into public spaces where nothing is happening?”

“You can people watch. Take pictures.”

“True,” Brent said, observing the stream of people passing by. He eyed a man in a clown outfit carrying a boa constrictor. “I imagine some of these folks are more outlandish than the parade. And speaking of outlandish …”

Cynth arrived, wearing a red, white, blue and gold tutu and a skintight tank over red high-top sneakers.

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