Dog Gone Lies (Pacheco & Chino Mysteries Book 1) (5 page)

“Yeah, I did. So nobody’s been looking for a dog in the last few days? Sure couldn’t have been lost for very long—look at him. Looks like he was brushed this morning. He sure hasn’t been out in the boonies for long.”

Ray gave her his address. He didn’t have a phone, but gave Cindy the number at Big Jack’s to call. If someone showed up looking for the dog, they could leave a message. He said his goodbyes and once again wished her the best in her career.

The dog followed right along beside Ray. When they got to the Jeep, the dog went around the back to get in. Ray was impressed—this was one smart dog. Before leaving the downtown area, Ray dropped in to the local market, Smith’s Grocery, where he purchased a few things for himself and a huge bag of dog food. He told himself there was no reason to buy a small one since it was so much cheaper per serving to buy in bulk. Once he got everything into the car, the dog spent an incredible amount of time smelling the dog food bag—like he knew it was for him.

They headed back home. One of the big problems with the cabin before Ray purchased it was access. The road leading up to the area had washed out years before and the county had decided, since there was no longer anyone living in the vicinity, not to repair the road. Ray had known this, and it had helped him get something of a bargain price for the cabin. After he moved in, though, he complained to the county. One day, about a month before the dog turned up, they’d come by with heavy equipment and made some improvements. The road went from being more or less impassable to just being very bad. It felt like a major victory.

Bouncing along on the new and improved road was still a little bone-jarring, but the dog didn’t seem to mind, happily hanging his head out the window. Ray unpacked everything and found bowls for the dog’s food and water. His new friend was most pleased and consumed significant quantities of both, demonstrating his satisfaction with some enthusiastic tail-wagging.

Among the purchases was a dog brush. Ray went out on the porch and called “dog” to join him. He gave him a good brushing, and this time there was no doubt—the dog was smiling. Ray chuckled a little bit at how good natured he was. For someone to ditch him just didn’t make sense.

“You know dog, calling you
dog
all the time doesn’t seem right. You’re obviously handsome, well-bred, and have good manners. You deserve a name. I think I’ll call you Happy.” The dog perked up. If Ray hadn’t known better, he would have said he recognized his name. Happy had a new home.

Monday

The next day, Ray was about to head to Tyee’s when he realized that he didn’t know what to do with Happy. “Boy, not sure I can leave you here, but not sure I can take you with me. Damn sure you can’t go on the boat—I don’t think Chino would like that. So what to do?”

He decided to go by Big Jack’s and see if Happy could hang out there for a few hours. He began practicing his sales pitch to Big Jack before they arrived. When Ray and Happy entered the store, Big Jack was sitting out back on the porch drinking coffee. They joined him.

“Hey what you got there Ray—looks like a show dog.”

“Well, I actually think he’s a stray, but a very smart, handsome stray. His name’s Happy.” The name got the tail to wagging super-fast. Happy went over and sniffed around on Big Jack a little and, in a big shock to Ray, seemed to find the smell okay.

“Happy just showed up at my cabin. I checked with the sheriff’s office but they haven’t had anyone looking for a dog, so I guess he’s going to stay with me for a little while. The problem is that I have my fishing lesson with Chino today and I’m sure he wouldn’t let a dog on the boat. Is there any way you could let him stay here for a few hours while I’m out on the lake?”

“Fuck no. What do I look like a fucking kennel?” The outburst resulted in spilled coffee, and the dog scurrying to the side of the building, followed by uproarious laughter from Big Jack. Ray must have been getting used to Big Jack’s ways, otherwise he might have been startled.

“Sure your damn dog can stay here. What the hell. Maybe I can sell him or something.” This brought new gusts of heart-threatening laughter.

Big Jack went into the store and came out with a bowl full of something foul-looking and foul-smelling and offered it to Happy, who went from happy to ecstatic. Whatever the horrible stuff was, it made Big Jack a friend for life. Ray told Happy to be a good dog and he’d be back in a few hours. Happy had found a comfortable spot on the dock and seemed content. Ray felt a tinge of something as he left—as if Happy should be more upset that Ray was leaving. He quickly erased the thought, feeling a slight tinge of embarrassment.

Big Jack was still something of a mystery to Ray. He knew the guy lived next door to the store in an old double-wide trailer that couldn’t possibly meet any code requirements for an appropriate housing structure, but that seemed to fit his needs. Big Jack was fond of saying that it was a double-wide just like him. Ray had never seen inside and was sure he didn’t want to. Big Jack was always at the store or in the double-wide—he never left. Guess he didn’t want to.

Ray was curious about Big Jack, but since he’d only known him a few days it didn’t seem polite to start asking nosy questions. Plus, all indications were that Big Jack would tell Ray to mind his own fuckin’ business. He knew from past experience that a lot of the people who chose to live around the lake had histories that they preferred to keep to themselves.

The second session with Tyee was much friendlier and the time passed quickly. He showed Ray all sorts of things about combinations of lures and baits. Ray practiced more casting and listened while Tyee told him about lake maps and instruments to measure depth. Some of this tangible information was becoming more and more linked to the magic Tyee had mentioned the first day. Ray couldn’t believe how many complications there were in the world of fishing.

Close to the end of their second day Ray asked Tyee how it was that he came to be at Elephant Butte. Well—wrong question.

“I’m fishing guide and damn good fishing guide. My past my business.”

Any warmth Ray had been sensing must have been just the sun—the guy was still a very unpleasant companion. Ray settled the fee just like he had the first day, but Tyee didn’t shake Ray’s hand. He had no idea why it was such a crime to ask a man about himself, but lesson learned. Ray had also noticed that several times the stereotypical movie-Indian patter had dropped away for a moment before returning. It was apparent that there was much more to learn about his new fishing guide.

They agreed that the next lesson would be from Big Jack’s dock on Tuesday. Tyee said he was going to have Ray try various tasks related to handling fish—unhooking them and such—and Big Jack always had some live fish on hand. For the first time, Ray realized he hadn’t really thought about what he would do if he actually caught a fish. He wasn’t squeamish by any means, but handling fish wasn’t something he would seek out as a hobby.

He headed back to Big Jack’s and found Happy more or less in the same spot he’d been in when Ray had left. Happy jumped up and made his day with a tremendous, joyful greeting. Ray thanked Big Jack for his help and Big Jack flashed what appeared to be a genuine smile, saying that Happy could visit him anytime he liked. Happy went over and gave Big Jack a lick—one brave dog.

Tuesday

Ray and Happy were at Big Jack’s bright and early the next morning, and to Ray’s surprise the place was doing a booming business. All this fishing stuff being new to Ray, he hadn’t realized that Big Jack did almost all of his daily business in the early morning hours. People came in to get their supplies for the day, to purchase gas at the dock, and to shoot the shit with Big Jack about where the best fishing would be that day—and of course Big Jack always had an opinion.

Ray and Happy stepped around people as they squeezed through the store’s tight aisles and headed out onto the dock. Ray saw Tyee working on some equipment out toward the end of the dock—he headed that way.

“You have dog now?”

The man just radiated warmth.

“Well, he’s maybe just visiting—not sure. His name is Happy.”

“Good name for dog.”

Tyee knelt down and gave Happy a scratch behind his ears. Happy responded and decided to stay close to Tyee in case the man decided to rub him again. Tyee smiled. Well—that might just be a first.

Tyee began showing Ray various items that should be in any tackle box. He pulled out a few things, explaining how they were used. This went on for some time. Happy had found a quiet corner of the dock and went to sleep—a primary dog function.

“Hey Ray. You’ve got a call from the sheriff’s office.” That was Big Jack yelling from the store’s back door.

“Be back in just a minute.” Tyee may have grunted something, but Ray wasn’t sure.

“Hello, this is Ray Pacheco.”

“Hello, sheriff, this is Cindy at the Sierra County sheriff’s office.”

“Well hello, Cindy. Did something happen about the dog?”

“Sort of—Deputy Martinez was wondering if you could come by the office as soon as possible. He’d like to talk to you.”

“Well sure. I’m kind of in the middle of something how about in a couple of hours—would that be okay?”

“I guess so, Sheriff Pacheco. I think the deputy was pretty anxious to see you, but I’ll tell him it will be a couple of hours.” She hung up. Some of her perkiness was missing today.

Ray walked back out to where Tyee was still working. He no doubt had a concerned look on his face as he tried to figure out what the call was about.

“You look worried Ray. Problem?”

“Well not sure, could be or could be nothing. When Happy showed up at my cabin I could see he wasn’t an ordinary stray and the next day, yesterday, I went to the sheriff’s office and filed a report in case someone was looking for him. That was Cindy at the sheriff’s office saying Deputy Martinez wants to see me ASAP. It could be about the dog, but she didn’t say. So maybe I should postpone our session today. Of course I’ll pay you for the hours we were planning today.”

“No need to pay out for nothing. I will go with you. See what they want.”

Ray wasn’t sure what to think about that—being nosy was one thing he never would have guessed about Tyee Chino.

“Sure come along.”

They picked up all of the equipment and stored it back in Tyee’s boat. Tyee didn’t have a car, according to Big Jack, but could get most places with his boat and a little walking. They got into Ray’s Jeep with Happy in the back and headed towards T or C.

“You know Deputy Martinez is an asshole?”

An actual conversation with Tyee? Ray wasn’t sure how to respond. “Actually Tyee, I’ve only met Deputy Martinez once and that was some time ago. I don’t really remember much about him. He was kind of Hector’s assistant wasn’t he?”

“Martinez was more like a lackey. Sheriff Hector Hermes was a drug dealing useless human being and Martinez was his trainee. Every bad thing the old sheriff was back then, Martinez is now, plus some new ones. Starting with him being the mayor’s son. The only reason he was ever hired was that his dad, no doubt, had something on Sheriff Hermes. These backward people run this little town like it’s their own little fiefdom.”

What in the world was this? Tyee speaking in full sentences with nouns, verbs, and everything. What happened to the fishing guide speak?

“Tyee, what happened to your old way of speaking?”

“Most of that’s an act. Some of it’s just me being lazy. Before life kicked me in the gut I graduated from UNM with a degree in computer science and a second major in English Lit. Then things started going bad for me—bad marriage to a good person—and suddenly I was a drunk. I’m still a drunk. But now I’m a fishing guide competing for tourist business and the man-of-few-words Indian act is a good front. Everybody knows Indians know everything about fishing, hunting, tracking—you know, all that Indian stuff. And a drunk Indian speaking in a monosyllabic way—it just fit right into everyone’s narrow perception of what an Indian fishing guide should be. I mostly just use it on tourists and the occasional asshole. And I don’t mean you’re an asshole, Ray. I thought you were a tourist since Big Jack sent you. ”