Jack Russelled to Death: Barkview Mysteries by C.B Wilson

Author:C.B Wilson [Wilson, C.B]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-26T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

We found Chad Williams in the Bark U library’s private collections section. Located on the top floor of one of the few modern three-story structures in town, the area resembled a typical nineteenth century English country house library. From the leather-bound book-lined walls to the inviting wing-backed chairs, the decor screamed old Barkview money.

I’m not exactly certain how it all worked, but Sandy found Chad in the campus library by utilizing Barkview’s many social media sightings. Once at the library, Jumping Jack tore the leash out of Sandy’s hands and took off up two flights of stairs, barking in a low-pitched, out-for-blood growl that turned my neck scarf into a tourniquet. I knew the pint-sized Jack Russell was no Pitbull, but I still gulped as Sandy and I sprinted after him. A chorus of barks responded, ending any semblance of quiet. What did you expect with a dog-friendly policy in a library anyway?

When I caught up, Jack stood safely positioned behind Sandy’s legs in the doorway, his neck hair mohawked and barking. Chad’s pretty boy adventurer demeanor turned all nerd as he cowered behind the mahogany desk shouting. “Get that animal away from me.”

Unmanned by a fifteen-pound genetic fox hunter had to be a new low. Jack didn’t give an inch. He lunged forward, the leash snapping as his grrr intensified.

“No Jack. Quiet.” Sandy’s half-hearted command did nothing. The dog growled on.

My head pounded. No wonder it took me forever to remember my aunt’s dogs are great judges of character lecture. Clearly, Jack had convicted Chad of something, and Sandy concurred. I couldn’t even think about how I’d come to that conclusion. No way I spoke dog.

“Quiet Jack,” I said more forcefully.

With a whole lot of about-time attitude, he obeyed, planting his butt at Sandy’s feet.

“Mind explaining why a dead woman’s dog is after you?” I mimicked Uncle G’s police intimidation flare. It worked.

“Jan’s dead?” He sank into the nearest wing-back chair.

Chad struck me as a lot of things, but not an Oscar caliber performer. “You were the last person to see her alive.” I wasn’t exactly sure if that was true, but it worked. His Irish skin paled to ghostly.

“I left her at the Old Barkview Inn parking lot and returned the GPR 200. I offered her a ride home, but she said she wanted to walk. Said she needed to think.”

A very Jan statement.

“Did you find the cave?” asked Sandy.

Jack’s sudden ruff ended Chad’s hesitation. “We didn’t have enough time to search. She insisted we leave at four. The cliffs aren’t accessible at high tide.”

They’d had just over an hour before the tide came in. He was right. The timing of Jan’s adventure had been odd. “Why did she insist?” I asked.

“She said the conditions were perfect at 5:00.”

“Perfect for what? You had a map,” said Sandy.

Needed to work on Sandy’s subtlety.

No denial from Chad. “We needed time.”

“Countless treasure hunters have looked for this treasure for a hundred years. What changed?” I asked.

Jack’s growl stopped Chad’s reach for something on the table midair.

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