The Fashion Hound Murders (11 page)

But cows get straw, Josie thought, and food and water and medical care.

“That wiener dog isn’t moving,” Amelia said, pointing to a brown dachshund lying on its side on the floor near the door.

“That’s Daisy,” Jonah said. “She died, poor thing. We need to bury her, but we haven’t had time with all the chores.”

What chores? Josie wanted to say. This place is filthy, and the dogs need food and water.

“What did she die of?” Amelia asked.

“Old age. She’s six.”

“That’s not very old,” Amelia said.

“It is in dog years,” Jonah said.

The scene was so grim, Josie wanted to run. She couldn’t stand it a minute longer.

“I want to leave,” Josie said. “I’m not feeling so good. I think I’m coming down with something.” She pasted on a smile and said, “Thanks for your time, Mr. Deerford. Sorry we interrupted you.”

“Come back anytime you want a dog,” Jonah said, which she translated as, “Don’t bother me again unless you’re buying something.”

Josie, Amelia, and Jerry walked back to his truck in silence. Josie didn’t try to hide her relief as she climbed into the cab. She hoped she didn’t have fleas from Jonah’s animals.

As he started the truck, Jerry tried to defend Jonah. “He used to be a farmer. He doesn’t have the sentimental attitude toward animals that city people do.”

“I don’t think clean cages are sentimental,” Josie said. “Neither is feeding his kids. Those boys looked like they could use a good meal and a bath. They didn’t even have gloves and it’s chilly tonight.”

“Boys lose gloves,” Jerry said. “They aren’t careful like girls.”

“Hah!” Josie said. “Do you know how many pairs of gloves I’ve bought Amelia so far this winter? Three. I told her if she loses one more pair, I’m getting her a set of mitten clips for her coat, like a first grader.”

“Mom!” Amelia was indignant that her mother revealed this personal information.

“What did Jonah want to talk to you about in private?” Josie asked.

“Jonah was worried you were some kind of animal rights spy. He thinks some radical vigilante types are trying to close down his kennels. He started taking down license plates and names of people who ‘drop by’ for a visit. I told him you were a harmless mystery shopper, checking out ladies’ clothing stores and stuff.”

“Right,” Josie said. “I do cute clothes.”

“You can see why he’d be upset about spies. His family farm means everything to him.”

“Absolutely,” Josie said. “But I wish Jonah wouldn’t let those boys outside dressed like that. They’re working at night. They could use a good meal. And why does the younger one have a bruise on his wrist?”

“Boys will be boys,” Jerry said. “They’re active kids, always getting into trouble. Jonah says the boys are clumsy. They take after their mother, I guess.”

I don’t think so, Josie thought. What I saw tonight was horrible. I’m not making excuses for Jonah. I’m calling the child protection agency and the Humane Society of Missouri. I’m reporting Jonah for cruelty to children and animals.

She felt better now that her mind was made up. She had the power to stop this horror. She wondered if she could make Jerry open his eyes and really see Jonah Deerford.

“Why didn’t you buy your pup from Jonah?” she asked.

“Like I said, he raises girlie dogs. And he charges too much. His teacup poodles drive you crazy with their yapping. Their bones are so brittle, one dog broke her leg jumping off a chair.

“The only dog I’d consider buying from him was a dachshund, but they like to dig. If one dug up my yard, my landlady would shoot me. Besides, I had a dachshund as a kid. It had back problems. Goes with the breed. Poor dog needed surgery. I’d rather have a good, healthy mutt like Chloe.”

He gave his nonpedigreed pup a pat. Chloe seemed fat and happy compared to the sad, well-bred prisoners in the farmhouse.

As they pulled out of Jonah’s yard, they heard a long, lonely howl rise from the house. The hair rose on Josie’s neck.

Chloe threw back her own head and answered. The howl died in the dark winter woods.

Chapter 12

Jerry’s truck landed on the paved road with a bolt-rattling thud. Amelia clung to Chloe to keep the puppy from falling on the floor, and Josie put an arm out to protect her daughter.

They were on a winding, two-lane road at the bottom of a wooded hill—a paved road, finally. A streetlight outlined a silver septic tank next to a split-level home.

Civilization, Josie thought.

Jonah’s rutted road went back into another world, one she hoped she’d never visit again. Josie shuddered when she thought of those poor, cowed boys with their dirty clothes and cold-reddened hands. Jonah’s sons had no boyish mischief, no playful banter with their father. Bart and Billy also had no childhood. They were condemned to work at their father’s kennels. The man wouldn’t even buy them warm coats.

Boys. Josie remembered Edna’s words the day she died:
He complains about his help. He says the boys don’t work hard enough. He’s such a horrible man. I’m sure that’s how he talks about black people.

Jonah Deerford was a horrible man. But he wasn’t talking about black people. He was complaining about his own sons. Their sad faces stuck in her mind. The boys seemed to be begging for help. Where was their family?

“Do Bart and Billy have any grandparents?” Josie asked when they were cruising along the road.

“Jonah’s parents are both dead,” Jerry said. “He inherited their farm and saved it from the IRS. His wife’s parents are old hippies who live somewhere out west. When Allegra ran away, Lance and Linda wanted to take the boys and raise them, but Jonah refused. He said they’d turn the kids into wusses.”

And Jonah would lose his cheap help, Josie thought.

“There’s some bad blood there,” Jerry said. “Lance and Linda said their daughter would never leave her children and they reported her missing. They filed for custody of the boys, but they live on some kind of New Agey commune and that didn’t sit well with the Missouri judge. Jonah said those kinds of people used drugs. He told the court that the boys were homeschooled in a Christian manner and did their chores. Jonah’s minister testified that those boys were in church every Sunday. Jonah got custody of the boys. The grandparents said they’d fight him in court, but they ran out of money. They didn’t even have steady jobs. They weren’t a good influence. Boys need discipline and the judge agreed with Jonah.”

“He did seem a little hard on the boys,” Josie said, proud of her tact.

“Jonah’s trying to teach Bart and Billy responsibility. It’s not easy to do.”

“I don’t think keeping your kids cold and hungry teaches them anything useful,” Josie said, the last of her tact evaporating.

“Life on the farm is tough, but it builds character,” Jerry said.

“They could use less character and more food,” Josie said. “They’re too thin.”

“Josie, you can’t mollycoddle boys. They’re different from girls. My cousin Allison was going to raise her son without all that old-fashioned gender bias. But no matter what she gave him, from a doll to a box, he turned it into a soldier.”

Josie was beginning to think that the more time she spent with Jerry, the less she liked him. Maybe they’d just been together for too long too soon. Maybe he didn’t understand, since he had no children of his own. But then another, scarier thought crossed her mind. Maybe Jerry was in league with Jonah. So were his mother and Paul. They lived in the country. Jerry and Paul drove beat-up old trucks—and had names from the Bible. They lived right down the road from the kennels. And Jerry thought there was nothing wrong with Jonah’s cruelty to his children and animals.

She stared out the window at the passing houses and fields, until a safe subject hopped into view. “Look, Amelia, there’s a bunny running across the road,” Josie said.

Jerry slowed the truck to make sure the cottontail was safe, then said, “I know we just had a big dinner, but would you like to stop somewhere for ice cream?”

“Your mom fed me too well,” Josie said. “Thanks.”

“What about you, Amelia?” Jerry asked. “Your mom says you like MaggieMoo’s. How about some ice cream?”

This was Amelia’s great temptation. Please say no, Josie pleaded mentally. She visualized the words in huge black letters and tried to mentally send them to her daughter’s mind: No, no, no.

Either the trick worked or Amelia didn’t want any ice cream—and that was almost unprecedented, even in winter.

“I’d better go home and check on Harry,” Amelia said. “What if he quit being scared and came out from under the bathtub and I missed him?” She struggled to hold the pup. “Chloe is getting squirmy.”

“I think she needs a walk,” Jerry said. “I should get her home. I don’t want Chloe to use your yard. Your crazy neighbor will have a fit.”

For once, Josie was grateful for Mrs. Mueller.

Jerry drove home to Maplewood at the fastest legal speed. The old truck was in front of Josie’s home in forty minutes. Darkness had slipcovered the couch by the curb into a shape that could have been a well-trimmed hedge, if she didn’t look too closely. At least it didn’t seem so embarrassing at night.

The lights were off in Stan’s house. Josie figured he was at the gym, as usual.

Jane was home. Josie could hear her mother’s TV as she unlocked the front door. Jane was getting a little deaf and tended to fall asleep in front of the set. Josie hoped her mother was asleep. She didn’t want another lecture on why she should date a man who drove an elegant Lexus or BMW instead of a pickup.

The life Jane dreamed of for her daughter was a version of her own before her unwanted divorce: a husband who had a well-paid professional job, while Josie was occupied with worthy causes and charity lunches. Jane never seemed to understand that her daughter would be bored silly with that life.

Amelia gave the pup one last hug. Chloe licked her nose as Amelia passed the little dog to her owner. Jerry held firmly on to the dog while Josie and Amelia climbed out of the truck.

“Thank you so much,” Josie said, hoping her relief didn’t show.

Once the truck’s passenger door was safely shut, Chloe stood on her fat hind legs, pawing the window glass and barking good-bye.

Amelia waved. Then she and Josie ran for the house as if they were being chased by hungry Dobermans.

Once inside, Josie said, “You have dog hair all over you. Please wash your hands after handling those dogs at Deerford Kennels.”

“That place was so gross. I want a shower,” Amelia said.

“Good idea. Just save me some hot water,” Josie said.

“Those poor dogs were really sick, weren’t they, Mom?”

“Yes,” Josie said. “I hope we didn’t bring something home to Harry. Go downstairs and drop your clothes and shoes into the washer—even that parka. I’ll wash mine, too. If we get fleas from this field trip, your grandmother will have a fit.”

Josie shooed her daughter to the basement laundry room, then brought Amelia her robe and carried her own long robe. She separated the clothes into lights and darks, dropped a load into the washer, and added soap powder. If only she could wash away this evening as easily.

“Do you think we brought some bugs home?” Amelia asked.

“I hope not, but if you start itching or see any little bites, let me know and I’ll buy you a flea collar.”

“Mom, tell me you’re joking,” Amelia said.

“Why?” Josie asked. “That would spoil the fun.”

“What can we do to save those little dogs?” Amelia said.

“I’ll do some research online and find out,” Josie said.

“We have to do something,” Amelia said. “Those pups were real sick. Their mothers could hardly move. They were cold. All they have are those weird kids to take care of them.”

“Don’t talk about Bart and Billy that way,” Josie said. “Their father neglects them. It’s not their fault they don’t have warm clothes and decent haircuts.”

“Isn’t there a child abuse hotline we could call?” Amelia asked.

Josie faced a parent’s dilemma: How much did she want to involve her daughter in the dark side of the adult world? Josie knew Jonah Deerford was cruel. His frightened sons and neglected animals proved that. If Josie complained to the authorities, she ran the risk that Jonah could track her down. Jerry might have already told him, if he was part of the miller operation. She hoped not.

Jerry looked as trusting as his puppy. He’d blab Josie’s address to Jonah, and the mean man with the black beard could turn up on her doorstep and threaten her and Amelia. Or Jonah could take out his anger on his boys. Once again, Josie wondered how Allegra could have abandoned her children.

Josie knew those poor boys and starving animals needed care. She would have to figure out a way to help them but keep her daughter out of it. If she made a complaint, it would have to be anonymous. Maybe she could turn Mrs. Mueller loose on Jonah.

“Why are you laughing, Mom?” Amelia said.

“I was being silly. I thought we could unleash Mrs. Mueller on Jonah.”

“He deserves her,” Amelia said. “But what if he married her?”

“Don’t go there,” Josie said.

“Why does Jerry defend that butthead, Jonah?”

“Amelia Marcus, watch your mouth.”

“A blind man can see he’s mistreating those dogs, Mom.”

“Jerry is a loyal friend. It’s possible for friends to overlook the faults of people they like.”

“The way Grandma defends Mrs. Mueller?”

“Something like that,” Josie said.

Their clothes were tumbling in the basement dryer when Amelia said, “Harry’s still hiding under the bathtub, Mom. All I saw was his tail sticking out. As soon as I walked in the bathroom, he pulled it in after him.”

“He’ll come out eventually, Amelia,” Josie said. “He’s gone through a lot of change in a few days. Is he eating his food?”

“The whole bowl. I gave him more. He drank all his water. He used his litter box, too.”

“That’s good,” Josie said. “If he stops using that, we have problems.”

“He hasn’t touched his toys.”

“He doesn’t feel like playing yet, sweetheart. You don’t play when you don’t feel well. Let him alone a bit longer.”