Drool Baby (A Dog Park Mystery) (Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries) (2 page)

"Do you feel energized or drained when you've been with Peter?"

"I'm pretty up."

"And Luthor?"

"Luthor could be tiring."

"I think your judgment is fine. I think the problem is in the female notion that all relationships are supposed to lead to the same place. Let me ask you
this. How do you feel about getting married?"

Lia sputtered, "What?"

"Thought so."

"Huh?"

"You want me to spell it out for you?"

"Please do."

"You're not afraid of repeating your relationship with Luthor. You're afraid of not repeating it. Peter scares you because he represents that white picket
fence you don't want."

"Wait a minute."

Asia looked at her with eyebrows raised, a teasing salute that dared Lia to protest. "Yes?"

"Are you telling me you think I'm afraid of marriage?"

"I think you're afraid of your own expectations about marriage, and it has been safer for you to choose men who weren't marriage material."

"Peter and I haven't said a thing about marriage. It's much too soon," she defended.

"Peter has nothing to do with your expectations, but your expectations have everything to do with your feelings about the men in your life. I believe we're
back at the parking lot and our time is up. Same time next week?"

"You dump that on me and then leave?" Lia accused.

"It'll give you something to think about until we meet next week."

"Thanks a lot." Lia bent down and leashed Honey and Chewy.

Asia's little Kia drove out of the lot. A blue Blazer pulled in. She watched as a tall, lean man got out with a medium sized black dog. He had dark brown
hair that flopped on his forehead, overdue for a haircut. It framed a face with nice bones and a touch of boyishness. She couldn't see his eyes, but
she knew they were a deep blue and drooped a little on the outer corners. Sweet, with a whisper of sadness. She appreciated his legs as he approached. His
elegantly curved mouth quirked up on one side when he saw her.

"Hey, Babe," Peter said, handing her a cup of coffee. He leaned over to kiss her.

"Babe is a pig."

"That makes us a pair, then," he said agreeably.

She sniffed the coffee. "Mmm. Hazelnut. You're learning Kentucky Boy."

"I is a smart lad."

They turned to walk up the curving drive to the dog park. "What brings a smart Kentucky lad up here today?"

"I thought you might like someone to hold your hand after your session."

"Damn. And here I am with full hands." She gestured with leashes in one hand and coffee in the other.

"I can wait. How did your session go?"

"A bit nerve wracking, but good. I don't like the Exposure Therapy, but I think it's going to help get rid of my dreams."

"Good." They passed through the picnic pavilion that separated the two halves of the dog park. Peter opened the gate to the entry corral and held it while
Lia walked Honey and Chewy in. He closed the gate and they unclipped the leads from all three dogs while a pair of Beagles set up a hullabaloo on the other
side of the inner gate. "Luke, Henry, hush up," Lia said. She opened the inner gate and Honey, Chewy and Viola shot past the Beagles. They capered around
the nearest tree with their noses up in the air and their tails wagging.

"Squirrel," Lia said.

"Must be," Peter agreed.

He took her hand. She liked that simple act of affection. She liked being able to be with someone without saying much at all. She liked it and yet she was
just a little nervous. They were so different, and she was still getting to know him. He liked country music, she liked New Age world rhythms. He grew up
in the Kentucky hills and she was a city girl. He was a cop and she was an artist. He was a man of few words and she was used to intellectual, verbal
types.
Get out of your own way
, she told herself.
You're holding hands with a nice, considerate, hot guy who happens to like you. Just enjoy.

They found a picnic table and climbed up on the top. They sat, watching the dogs harass the squirrel, who was running around the tree trunk just out of
reach. Or maybe it was the squirrel taunting the dogs. Lia didn't know.

"How did you know I needed coffee?" she asked.

"Wasn't hard." He shrugged. "You said you and Asia were going down in the gully first thing this morning. I didn't think you'd want to be carrying coffee
down that path."

"What about you?"

"I drank a Coke on the way over."

"That stuff is bad for you."

"So you keep saying. Tell you what. You quit nagging me about my Cokes, and I'll try some of those gummy things that look like rubber bands."

"I don't nag."

"Sure you do," he said pleasantly.

"Sorry. I'll stop. I won't push you to try anything weird anymore, either."

"Oh, I don't know, that's kind of an adventure. What do you call those gummy things, anyway?"

"Kelp noodles. You really want to try them?"

"I live for danger," he intoned with a straight face.

She nudged him with her elbow.

"Children, children," a heavy-set woman of medium height admonished.

"Hey, Anna," Lia said.

Anna Lawrence was a middle age woman with a square face and thin lips. She had intense, intelligent eyes. Dark eyebrows contrasted with hair that had paled
to gold with age and waved around her no-nonsense face. She was accompanied by a black and tan Tibetan Mastiff named CarGo. CarGo looked at the trio
harassing the squirrel and whuffed softly but stayed at her side.

"Is this a private conversation, or can anyone join in?"

Peter turned to Lia. "What do you think? Should we let her in?"

Lia eyed Anna. "I dunno . . ."

"I've got to get to work, anyway," Peter said. "Why don't you ladies hang out."

The two women watched Peter as he went to collect Viola. "That man is very smitten with you," Anna commented. "How are you getting along?"

"We're still trying to figure each other out. He's very different from anyone else I've dated. So, what's new with you?"

"The foundation I work for is buying a building in Northside. They're going to turn it into an education center. I've got to meet some of the bosses over
there this morning. They want me to coordinate with the architect and the contractors."

"Sounds like a fun project. Maybe you'll get your very own hard-hat."

"Maybe," Anna laughed. "Did you hear? Nadine is throwing a birthday party for Rufus next Monday. Cupcakes for the grown ups and home made dog biscuits for
the furry ones."

Lia rolled her eyes. "Some people have too much time on their hands. I suppose it's okay, as long as she keeps everything out in the picnic shelter. The
dogs always go crazy when there's food in the park."

"I won't be able to make it, anyway. I have that girl who helps me around the house on Mondays. I need to be at home when she comes."

The two women began strolling. Honey and Chewy abandoned the squirrel to join them. They said hello to regulars as they made their way to the back of the
park.

A slight, grizzled figure sat on a bench with a Border Collie and a gangly Bloodhound by his side. A small, Asian woman sat next to him with her chin
tilted at a rebellious angle. Dark bangs with electric blue highlights hung in her eyes. A beefy gentleman wearing a camouflage concealed-carry vest stood,
waving his arms. Underneath a nearby picnic table, a skinny hound excavated while a small Golden Retriever mix supervised.

The beefy gentleman bore a striking resemblance to Teddy Roosevelt. He wore a walking cast on one leg. As they neared, he turned to the hound. "Jackson! No
dig!" Jackson and Napa took off, spied Honey and Chewy, and started racing in circles.

Terry Dunn, the Roosevelt look-alike, turned back to Marie Woo. "Anyone who votes Democratic has their head up their ass. There's a reason the party mascot
is a donkey."

"Anyone who still believes in trickle down economics thinks denial is a river in Egypt. The only way money trickles in this country is up, and . . ."

Jim, the man on the bench, kept silent, but his lips were flattened into a thin line.

Lia leaned over to Anna. "Looks like diversionary tactics are in order."

Marie flipped her bangs and overrode Terry's protestations. "Every time someone asks a Republican what they're going to do about the economy, they respond
by diverting attention to gay marriage and abortion. And at least Democrats tax before they spend. George Dubya Bush cut taxes and then spent fifteen
trillion dollars more than was coming in. That's how we got into this mess."

Anna reached into her tote bag and pulled out the Living section of the paper and a pen. She climbed up on the picnic table and began scanning the page.
Lia climbed up beside her as the pair argued on. Anna waited for a lull in the hostilities, then called, "Oh, Terry?"

He turned. "Yes?"

"What's the name of the Political party whose name means "renaissance" in Arabic?"

He frowned for a minute, then smiled. "Baath. Like bath, with two a's." He wandered over to the picnic table. "What else have you got?" He tried to peek at
the paper, but Anna held it up to her chest.

"Hold on a minute. Let me see what else. . . 'Four time Indy 500 winner,' four letters."

"That's easy. Foyt. F, o, y, t."

"Thanks." Anna continued scanning the clues for obscure trivia questions.

Lia looked over at Jim. He no longer looked like he was about to explode. Marie winked at her.

"So, Lia, was that Detective Hottie you were talking to earlier?" Marie asked.

"He'd be so embarrassed to hear you call him that. He brought me coffee this morning."

"That was very chivel. . . chiver . . ." Jim said.

"Chivalrous." Lia completed automatically.

"That was very chivalrous of him," Jim said.

"He's a chivalrous kinda guy," Lia said.

"Lucky you," Marie said. "Last officer of the law I met looked like a bulldog and had onion breath. And he gave me a speeding ticket."

"And I bet you were doing fifty going down that hill on Montana," Lia said.

"Hey, if I stuck to the speed limit, somebody would run me off the road."

"Tell you what," Lia offered. "I'll have Peter ask them to post only pretty girl traffic cops in that speed trap. Maybe the next time you get a ticket,
it'll be worth it."

"If only," Marie said. "Any way he can request pretty, gay, girl cops?"

"I can always ask."

Jim stood up and picked up his walking stick. "Fleece and Kita and I have to go."

"I'll walk out with you," Lia said. She held up a hand to the group in an abbreviated wave. "See you tomorrow." Honey and Chewy saw her walking away and
stopped playing. They ran to catch up.

"Gina left me again," Roger announced to the early morning crowd at the Mount Airy Dog Park. "I want to kill myself." He was a tall, gaunt man, with a
reddish beard that had a stripe of white down the middle. The hair peeking out from under his ball cap was gray. He was nearing sixty, and he had the
rode-hard look of a wind-burned cowboy.

Lia looked out over the dog park, a ridge of land abutted on three sides by more than a thousand acres of forest. She lifted her face and felt the breeze
that often blew over the ridge. She'd been running her two dogs at the park for four years. Now she was beginning to dread the mornings when Roger showed
up because he could always be counted on to share his latest domestic drama. But Honey and Chewy had to run and mornings were best, Roger or no Roger. The
lithe artist sat on top of a picnic table and concentrated on her coffee, inhaling the hazelnut scent. She'd let the others handle Roger for now.

Jose was a prematurely bald man of Italian descent with the build of a ball player and a Fu Manchu mustache. He heaved a big sigh. "Roger, you know we
talked about this. You been drinking beer and staring at your gun again, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Roger admitted. "I wanna shoot myself, but I can't do it."

"Oh! Don't do that!" Marie exclaimed from her perch beside Lia. "The mess will cost a fortune to clean up and make it impossible to sell the house in this
market. Hanging's better, but be sure to go to the bathroom first, maybe take an enema."

"Marie!" Anna admonished from Lia's other side.

"Just trying to help." Marie shrugged her dainty Asian shoulders and flipped her zebra striped bangs. "If he's going to do it, he should do it properly.
Right, Roger? You could gas yourself, but that might blow up the house. An overdose of sleeping pills will leave nasty blue blotches all over your body.
Then there's always the risk someone would find you and pump your stomach. There's carbon monoxide poisoning, but you'd have to clean out the garage first.
I think you should commit Hari-kari on Gina's doorstep."

"You want me to stick myself with a knife? How do you expect me to gut myself if I can't pull the trigger?" Roger turned to Jose, "You do it. I'll give you
my gun."

Jose rolled his eyes, "No, Roger, I'm not going to shoot you."

"Surely Gina isn't worth dying for," Anna said.

"She's not," Jose answered. "She takes his money and lives off him and runs around and never gives anything back." He turned to Roger. "Why do you let her
treat you like that?"

"I love her," Roger insisted. "I can't stand to be alone. I'm not like you."

Lia had been content to let this conversation proceed without her input up to now. "Roger, would therapy be so bad? I'm finding it really helpful."

"The only thing that will help me is Gina coming back."

"Don't worry about that," Jose reassured. "She'll be back as soon as she needs some money."

"Too bad Bailey's in the nut house. She'd shoot me. Oops! Sorry, Lia, I didn't mean to bring that up."

"It's okay, Roger," she said, though it really wasn't. She didn't need reminding that her partner and friend had held a gun to her head six weeks before,
and was now confined to a psych ward. Lia had a lot to say about how it felt to face your mortality, but talking to Roger always went nowhere.