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Squatting over a dead body was not Detective Raymond Reed’s ideal lunchtime activity. The coroner estimated time of death as the night before around seven. It was almost one o’clock now. His stomach growled. The glare from the crystal chandelier hung high over the marble tile of Gary Martin’s foyer bothered his eyes and made him cranky. Or maybe it was the fact that there were five officers and medical personnel working the scene and ignoring the little Shih Tzu shivering next to the body.
He stroked the pup’s head before going through the dead man’s pockets. He found gum, a receipt for the gum from a convenience store with a time and date stamp of yesterday evening at five fourteen, and his cell phone. His keys lay on the floor next to him.
Ray handed the phone to the officer closest to him.
“Sergeant, can you please see if you can find next of kin and put me on with them when you do?”
“Sure thing, Detective.”
“Can you also find something to eat and drink for the dog? Maybe distract her with a toy?”
The sergeant nodded and went for the Shih Tzu, who backed up and growled in warning.
“I don’t think she’s interested, Detective.”
Ray went out to his SUV and opened the hatch. His partner, German shepherd dog Ace, jumped out of the back and followed him into the house.
He knelt down next to Ace. “How about helping me with this little one, pal?”
Ace walked over to the Shih Tzu, who looked up at him towering over her. He gave her a little nudge. She held her ground. Ace let out a single bark, and the Shih Tzu stepped away from the body. Ace sat next to her.
Ray patted Ace and his charge on the head and went back to work. There were no apparent bruises or injuries on the body. He looked at the Shih Tzu.
“I wish you could tell me what happened here, little one.”
Chrissy stared at him with an intensity that took him off guard.
“The victim’s sister, Anna Martin, sir.” The sergeant handed over the phone.
“Ms. Martin? This is Detective Raymond Reed of the Knollwood Police Department.”
“Yes?” Ray noted her voice was filled with expectation and foreboding.
“I’m sorry to inform you that your brother was found dead in his home about an hour ago.”
Ray listened for an emotional reaction but got only silence.
“Ms. Martin?”
“Yes. I’m just shocked at the news.”
Ray heard annoyance rather than shock, as though her brother’s death was an inconvenience rather than a tragedy.
“Ms. Martin, when was the last time you spoke to your brother?”
“Last week maybe. Why?”
“His dog was found alive sitting next to the body.”
“Her name is Chrissy. That dog meant more to him than his own family.”
Resentment and cool disgust landed in Ray’s trained ear.
“Would you or your family like to come get her and identify the body?”
“I’ll identify the body, but I don’t want the dog. Send her to a shelter.”
Being an animal lover and a dog owner himself, her reaction made him angry.
Controlling his voice, he said, “May we take her bedding and toys to the shelter also?”
“Whatever. I don’t want any of that stuff.”
Ray clenched his jaw.
“When are you available to come and identify the body?”
“I have to get my parents situated first. It will take about an hour to get there.”
“I can meet you at the coroner’s office at four this afternoon.”
Anna sighed. “Fine.” Ray heard a click, and she was gone.
Ray tucked the phone into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and looked at Chrissy.
“Chrissy,” he said.
She looked at him.
“I’m sorry little one. We’ll have to take you someplace where they’ll take good care of you.”
Her dark eyes shone with moisture, pulling at Ray’s heartstrings.
“You don’t want to go with your aunt anyway. Someone nice will come along.”
Chrissy put her head down. Ace nuzzled her. Ray asked one of the officers to call Animal Control and instruct them to take Chrissy to a no-kill shelter.
“Can someone please gather all of Chrissy’s belongings and put them in bags to go with her?”
He wished he could take her, but he had his hands full with Ace. He watched as a woman from Animal Control gently scooped her up and rubbed her back, while another staffer grabbed two bags of Chrissy’s things. Chrissy looked over the woman’s shoulder at Ray. When they turned, he saw her tail limp, and almost stopped them, but a strong instinct told him that something good would come out of this.
Back at the station, Ray gobbled a sandwich as he went through the address book of Gary’s cell phone. Ace sat under his desk sharing bits of his lunch. Ray methodically made a list of those he wanted to question. Anna was at the top of the list, followed by Gary’s partner, Vaughn Evans, and the woman who reported the death, Corinne Taylor.
Preliminary list complete, he called the shelter to make sure Chrissy had arrived and settled in. They reported that she would not eat or play. Ray was not surprised after everything she had been through.
Then he called Gary Martin’s law office to find out about his will. A woman named Lisa Coleman answered. She told him the will was in probate and a matter of public record, so she gave him the beneficiary information.
He noted the time and headed over to the medical examiner’s office to meet Anna Martin. She was already in the waiting area when Ray arrived, her sour expression contrary to the situation at hand.
“Ms. Martin?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Detective Reed. We spoke on the phone.”
“Right. Let’s get this over with.”
Ray showed her into an interview room.
“Where’s the body?”
Ray noticed that she did not say “my brother.”
“Please have a seat. I’d like to ask some questions that will give me a better picture of Gary.”
“What for?”
“Please, Ms. Martin. This is standard procedure and your cooperation is appreciated.”
She sat back and crossed her arms.
“May I have your address?”
She gave it to him with a curt tone.
“That’s about an hour from here, correct?”
“Yes.”
“When was the last time you spoke to Gary?”
“I told you before. It might have been last week.”
“What did you talk about?”
“What we always talk about. I needed money to take care of my parents.”
“Did Gary provide for them normally?”
“Not voluntarily. I always had to ask. Listen, I need to get back home.”
“We’re almost finished. How would you describe your relationship with the deceased?”
She chuckled. “Not great. We only spoke when we had to. Now I don’t need to speak with him at all.” Her mouth tightened to a thin line.
“Where were you day before yesterday around seven in the evening?”
“Home with my parents.” She said without hesitation.
Ray nodded his head and made a note.
“Were you aware that you are the sole beneficiary in Mr. Martin’s will?”
“Does that make me some kind of suspect?”
“What do you believe Mr. Martin died from?”
“How should I know? I’m not a doctor!” She waited a beat. “That’s enough. Show me the body and let me get out of here.”
Ray closed his notepad and showed her into the viewing room.
Autumn Clarke shook off visions of the tractor-trailer grill filling the windshield and echoes of twisting metal, screams, and sirens. Toes curling in her shoes, she steadied herself against the brick wall and took a calming, deep breath that brought her back to the present. She looked around to see if anyone witnessed her episode. She hated when it happened in public places and desperately wanted to reclaim her self-control.
Panic subsiding, her focus shifted to the industrial glass doors that challenged her to enter with no promise of success. Autumn was afraid to love again, yet embers of hope glowed in the darkness and faith smoldered in her heart. This was the first step toward healing, and she opened to it like a folklorist drawn to an ancient fairy tale.
Her treatment plan had hit a wall. The nightmares of that fateful day crept into her waking consciousness. The recent rise in anxiety prompted her psychiatrist, Doctor Wesley Harper, to add this latest intervention. To heal, she needed to welcome love back into her life. So here she stood, despite intense skepticism and fear.
Taking a deep breath, she took a leap of faith with nothing to lose. She pulled open the glass door to the sterile, cinder block building, the smell of pungent disinfectant conjuring images of the hospital emergency room. Chest tight and tears glistening, she defied the urge to leave. The heels of her scuffed brown leather booties pounded the black and white tile floor and echoed off the bare walls up to the receptionist desk. The noise gave her courage somehow; it sounded strong and purposeful.
The wood-look laminate receptionist desk felt cold, yet the carrot-topped, curly-haired receptionist with the bright, friendly smile warmed the space. Her official clip-on tag revealed her name as Brenda.
“May I help you?”
Brenda wore a bright yellow T-shirt emblazoned with an illustration of a small, furry dog of no particular breed wearing a halo and the call to action: Adopt a Fuzzy Angel Today.
“Hi Brenda, I’m here to adopt a fuzzy angel.”
Autumn and Brenda shared a smile, and Autumn’s tension subsided.
“I’m happy to help you with that.”
“I’m Autumn Clarke. I filled out the adoption application form on your website. Six pages’ worth.”
“We want to be sure that our fur babies go to the best homes,” Brenda said as she typed Autumn’s name into the computer system. “Here you are. Yes, your application is approved.”
“I’d like a small breed, under 20 pounds.”
“Wonderful! The sweetest little girl came in this afternoon. Right this way. She’s a Shih Tzu.”
Brenda led her down a drab, narrow hallway, wide hips swaying under the form-fitting T-shirt, and into the caged area. It was depressing to see these beautiful furry faces staring with soulful eyes from behind bars. Autumn wondered how big a heart was required to work here and stay strong. The stories she read on the shelter’s website of how they got here were as sad as their expressions. They reminded Autumn of herself, caged by the memory of a fatal accident that haunted her day and night.
Their desperation, and her own, bounced off the walls and echoed back like a lonely coyote’s cry in a canyon. Some dogs barked with loud and frantic tones. Others kept to themselves, withdrawn in uncertainty for the future. Autumn tried not to think about it and to focus on the one she was here to see.
Having a pet had never occurred to her. In all of the wonderful experiences her parents had brought her, none included a pet of any kind. Not even a fish. So, now to be responsible for the wellbeing of a dog made her hands go clammy and her heart race.
The idea of entering into a relationship seemed foreign. The Land of Connection was a place she had visited long ago and could only recall pieces of the trip. She was afraid of attachment. She worried that her treatment plan would not work. She dreaded being alone forever. Despite intense skepticism and fear, to heal, she needed to welcome love back into her life.
Her personal default was to research whatever challenge she faced or topic she wrote about as a freelance journalist. She'd spent several evenings poring over the massive amount of information online about what it is like to have a dog before following her doctor’s suggestion and making the decision to adopt. She learned what a huge undertaking it is to have a pet; her choice to show up anyway demonstrating the commitment to her healing and improving the life of a little dog in the process.
Still, her stomach tightened at the thought of having an animal in the house. She used Dr. Wes’ trick of feeling her feet on the floor and focusing her attention on Brenda, noting every movement she made to keep her mind occupied. His methods were effective, albeit non-traditional at times. That was what she liked most about him. The latest suggestion forced her to step out of her comfort zone and tackle this latest challenge.
“Here she is.” Brenda petted the little dog through the bars.
The moment the Shih Tzu lifted her angelic face and stared straight into Autumn Clarke’s eyes, she knew this little cutie was coming home with her. The sad, dark eyes looked at Autumn through tangled white bangs. The one stuffed toy in her cage went ignored. This little dog reflected Autumn’s own sorrow and loss of hope.
Dr. Wes’s idea to get an emotional support dog as complementary treatment might work out after all. A glimmer of hope sparkled in the dark place that had become her world, for herself and for this precious treasure.
- Writer
