Three Dog Day Read online

  Three Dog Day

  A Mae December Mystery

  Lia Farrell

  Camel Press

  PO Box 70515

  Seattle, WA 98127

  For more information go to: www.Camelpress.com

  www.liafarrell.net

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover design by Sabrina Sun

  Three Dog Day

  Copyright © 2015 by Lia Farrell

  ISBN: 978-1-60381-971-8 (Trade Paper)

  ISBN: 978-1-60381-972-5 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014951811

  Produced in the United States of America

  * * *

  For Truly Scrumptious, Doozy, Bandit, Lucky Boy and Riley; sweet dogs who went on home this year. We will miss you. And for Millie Roo; we’re glad you stayed right here.

  * * *

  Acknowledgments

  We want to personally acknowledge and thank the many people who made this book possible. First among them is Carol Jacobsen, Professor of Art and Women’s studies at the University of Michigan. She is an award winning social documentary filmmaker and the Director of the Michigan Women’s Justice and Clemency Project. Her Project works to free women prisoners who were convicted of murder but who acted in self-defense against abusers and did not receive due process or fair trials; and to conduct public education and advocacy for justice, human rights and humane alternatives to incarceration for women. The fictional Abused Women’s Commutation Project in Three Dog Day is loosely based on the important real life work they do.

  We would also like to thank Detective Lieutenant Robert Pfannes of the Ann Arbor Police Department for his consultation on the interrogation of suspects and the use of evidence in interviews. We wish to thank Daniel Degnan, MSW, for his help in adding authenticity to the descriptions of the Huron Women’s Prison in Ypsilanti. He is the social worker for a woman in the facility who killed a police officer. Lastly, we would like to thank Joe Elenbaas for his information on weapons and knives that have been used in all our books.

  Our apologies to the Potawatomi tribe members who reside in Hannahville, Michigan. Unlike the poor people we depicted in this story, the Hannahville Indian Community is a rapidly growing entity with a vibrant social, economic and cultural existence. They are a federally recognized tribe with a casino, an 18-hole championship golf course, an island resort, schools and modern homes.

  We would like to thank our publication team; Dawn Dowdle our literary agent (Blue Ridge Literary), Catherine Treadgold, Publisher and Editor-in-Chief and Jennifer McCord, Associate Publisher and Executive Editor as well as Sabrina Sun, graphic artist for Camel Press. We continue to be grateful for all their help and to Sabrina for her wonderful cover designs.

  Last, but certainly not least, we want to acknowledge Will Schikorra, who single-handedly made our website. He also keeps it up to date and helps enormously with computer issues from day to day.

  Prologue

  January 2nd

  He looked down at the knife, shaking in his left hand. His forearms and hands were red with Web’s blood. He set the knife on the ground and took a deep breath. Got to be smart about this. Trying not to look at the dead man’s face, he pulled Web’s denim jacket off the body and went through the pockets. No wallet. He laid the jacket on the ground and rolled Web onto it, face down. He quickly found Web’s wallet in the back pocket of his brown corduroy pants. He stuffed it in his jacket pocket; he would get rid of the wallet after hiding the body.

  The cold wind carried the sounds of barking and howling across the field. He would have to hurry. Someone could show up anytime now. He ran to the back of Web’s truck and dropped the tailgate. There were some rags and tools in the truck bed, including a shovel. A bottle of water lay in the front seat. Pouring it on himself, he washed off as much of the sticky blood as he could, then went back and got the knife. After wiping the handle down, he poured the rest of the water over the blade and wrapped the knife in the rag. Getting caught was not an option. His whole future lay in the balance.

  The top few inches of ground were frozen hard. Despite the January chill, sweat dripped off his forehead as he worked. Soon he had a hole big enough to bury the rag-wrapped knife. He stomped the ground, packing it down hard. With any luck, the forecasted snowstorm would come and blanket this field. He put the shovel in the back of the truck and flipped Web’s body back over, dragging him by his feet until he was close to the truck. Crouching down, he put an arm under Web’s knees and the other arm under his neck. With a grunt of effort, he heaved him up and into the truck bed.

  He smelled blood. Spots danced in front of his eyes and his mouth filled with excess saliva. He slammed the tailgate shut. Swallowing hard, he picked up Web’s jacket and climbed into the truck, where Web’s keys dangled in the ignition. He turned the key and the old truck roared to life. After driving across the field to the edge of the bluff, he turned so the back end faced the river. The bank was steep here. He put the truck in park but left it running when he got out, leaving just enough room to walk behind the truck and open the tailgate one last time. Pulling Web’s limp body to the edge, he hurled it down toward the dark, fast-moving river below. He heard the splash and closed his eyes for a second. I’m sorry, Web. But you shouldn’t have come after me with that knife.

  The river arced in a horseshoe shape around the broad, flat field. It was starting to snow, and the light was fading from the winter sky. If he could put the truck over the bluff on the other side of the field, it would be upstream from the body. Web’s body should float farther and faster than the heavy truck. He drove to the other corner of the bend in the river and nosed the truck right up to the bluff, then put the shifter in neutral and opened the window all the way before climbing out.

  His heart was pounding and there was a ringing in his ears. The adrenaline reaction was making him tremble all over, but he had to do this. He pushed with all his remaining strength against the rear bumper. The truck eased forward slowly, then picked up speed as the front end went down, crashing through trees. He leaped back and the truck rolled down into the river. He turned and ran through the gathering dusk and heard the slap and whoosh as the vehicle went in. The water would rush in through the open window and the old truck would submerge quickly.

  There weren’t any lights on yet at the distant house. The snowflakes cooled his cheeks and the cold burned his lungs. He was almost back to his own truck. He deepened his breathing, trying to slow his thudding heartbeat. The wallet could go in the incinerator at the lab tomorrow. He had always been smart—smarter than anyone he knew. If he went home, cleaned up, and kept his mouth shut, no one else would ever know what he’d done this day.

  Chapter One

  January 3rd

  Mae December

  Mae December, thirty years old and, to her mother’s dismay, still single, delayed the release of her dogs for a few minutes. She looked out the window toward the barn, amazed to see it was snowing. The Middle Tennessee area was much more likely to get freezing rain than snow, but this morning a blizzard of white blanketed the yard. She released the dogs from the laundry room, pulled on her barn jacket, and let the dogs out. Titan, her male Welsh corgi, sniffed the snow and began to run around barking in excitement, his short legs churning up the fresh snowfall.

  Thoreau, the creaky old Rottweiler Mae had inherited when her former fiancé Noah was killed
in a tragic automobile accident, stepped stolidly out into the white world. The Tater, her blond corgi puppy, joined Titan, plowing a pathway through the three inches of snow with her little chest. Snow reached the tops of her short legs. Tallulah, her black pug, gave Mae a sideways look that plainly said, “Are you out of your mind, woman?” The pug sat on the top step looking down in a disgruntled manner at the white stuff. Mae nudged her out into the world with the toe of her boot.

  After taking care of chores in the barn and feeding her two boarding dogs, Mae ran back to the house. Mae owned a boarding kennel and also bred designer puppies that were half corgi and half pug. She called them porgis and had been successful selling them across the country. Tallulah, the pug who had been the original mother of the porgi litters, was now retired. The small, snow-hating dog had already peed and dashed back into the house. The Rottweiler was also waiting on the stoop when Mae returned from checking on her boarders. She let them in and cast her eyes over her shoulder at the two happy corgis, who showed no sign of wanting to come inside. She would leave them to romp for a while, since they seemed delighted with the rare covering of white fluffy stuff on the grass.

  Mae’s kitchen phone rang almost as soon as she hung up her barn jacket. It was her neighbor, Annie Butler.

  “Good Morning, Annie.”

  “Hi, Mae. I have a big favor to ask. Jason and I went into Nashville to see one of our friends play at The Bluebird last night. The roads got bad and we decided to stay overnight at his house. Anyway, we’re headed back this morning, but I was wondering, could you drop by our place and let the dogs out? There’s a key under the mat by the back door.”

  “Sure, no problem. I’m sure Baby isn’t going to want to go out in this storm, but Bear will.” Baby was a porgi. The Butlers had purchased Baby from Mae almost a year ago. Bear was the Butler’s high-energy black Lab, a rescue dog.

  “I was just going to take Titan for a walk. He’s crazed with excitement about the snow. I’ll take Bear too. She always needs exercise.”

  “Thanks a lot, Mae. See you soon.”

  Mae looked outside at the swirling white world and the outdoor thermometer, which read thirty degrees. Calling Tater into the house, she grabbed her gloves and barn jacket, pulled on her boots, clipped a leash on Titan’s collar and walked out to the car. Driving down the street with Titan as co-pilot in the front seat, she noticed the snowflakes were becoming thicker. The sky was totally white. When she got to the Butlers, both Baby and Bear were delighted to see her. She let the dogs out, while she refilled their food and water bowls. Baby dashed back into the house when Mae called. The little porgi was shivering. Like her mother, Tallulah, she did not enjoy the cold. She loaded the Butlers’ young black Lab, Bear, into the rear cargo area of her Explorer.

  “Hey dogs,” she told them cheerfully, “we’re going for a walk.”

  By the time they got to her favorite hiking trail along the river, the wind was rising, but Mae thought she and the dogs would warm up soon from walking. The trail ran high above the smoothly flowing river. A tree had fallen, creating a rippling cascade of white foaming bubbles in the dark amber water. Hiking through the high oak and beech forest, Mae remembered how it looked in the spring when the hill was a cascade of trillium, anemones, violets and may apples—a tapestry of pale colors falling sharply down the green ravine.

  The wind rose and Mae started walking faster. The dogs kept pace with her. They were having fun darting into the woods to bark at the falling snow before she pulled them back. Her arms were getting tired from pulling on their leashes, so she decided to unhook them.

  About twenty minutes later, Mae arrived at the highest point of the trail where a rough staircase, put in by the park service, descended down to river level. The snow was falling so heavily, it was like being inside a Christmas snow globe. She called the dogs. Usually Titan would bark when she called, even if he didn’t come right away.

  “Bear. Titan, come,” Mae yelled, louder now. There was no sign of them and no barking either. She began hiking back down the trail to determine where the dogs had diverged from the main track. As she hurried along, Mae was unhappy to see that the snow had completely covered the main path. Her footprints were filling in already, but twenty minutes later, she still hadn’t seen or heard the dogs.

  A little farther on, she spotted a spur off the main track going deeper into the woods, away from the river. It was filling in fast, but there were faint indentations in the snow. Mae jogged down the spur. In another fifteen minutes, she saw them, a large dark shadow and a smaller reddish one, darting ahead into the woods. Little monsters.

  “Titan, Bear, come here.” They barked, racing ahead of her. Mae picked up her pace and turned deeper into the forest, trying to catch up with the runaways. Tall white pines predominated over oak and beech in this part of the woods, their soft forest-green needles encrusted with snow.

  A few minutes later, Mae stopped, having nearly run into a tree. Blackberry canes and tall teasels stood among the pines. She’d gotten off the trail. The wind howled, blowing the snow into drifting white swirls. Mae turned in a complete circle, but nothing looked familiar. The dogs were nowhere in sight and she couldn’t hear them.

  Moving forward slowly, with thorns catching on her jeans, she tried to get her bearings. Heavy cloud cover and swirling snow eclipsed the sun. Mae reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a thin flashlight. Holding it ahead of her and pushing forward through heavy brush, she came out into an open field and saw a building looming up out of the storm. Somehow, she had walked off the field and into a residential area. She sighed in relief.

  Her feet hit gravel under about four inches of snow and she walked to the side of the structure. It was a garage with vinyl siding and, to her relief, both dogs were standing by a side door. Taking a deep breath, Mae clipped the dogs’ leashes back on. They jumped to lick her face, excited, breathing clouds of mist in the air. The side door was open. Thinking she would just get warmed up for a minute, she ducked inside. The dogs followed, barking.

  “Quiet,” she said and downed them on the concrete floor. The building was larger than she thought at first, a long open space. There were no windows and it was very dark. Mae felt the wall for a switch and flicked the lights on. She reached in her pocket for her cellphone. It wasn’t there. She could see it in her mind’s eye, lying on the front passenger seat in the car. Crap.

  “Hello,” Mae called out hesitantly in the dark cavernous space. “Is anyone here?”

  No one answered, but at the sound of her voice the dogs barreled out of their “down, stay” and jumped up against her. Bear practically knocked her off-balance. Mae righted herself; her whole body was cold, right through to the bones. She wasn’t going to be able to get any warmer in the unheated building. The large garage seemed menacing. I need to get out of here and find my car. She hurried with the dogs to the side door, nearly tripping over a large pile of copper pipes. They weren’t wrapped in any kind of packaging. Mae flipped off the light and emerged into the storm. The wind howled; the dogs jumped with excitement.

  There had to be a driveway leading to the garage, and beyond that, a road. If she got to a road, she could figure out where she was. However, after several fruitless minutes walking in each direction for thirty paces and then returning, she realized there was only a gravelly square with the garage in the middle. There was no driveway and no house she could see. Why would someone build a garage in the middle of nowhere?

  She knelt down by the dogs. “Bear, home,” she said. “Titan, go home.” The dogs stared at her and she repeated the command, louder. “Home.” Mae loosened her grip on the leashes and slowly Titan started walking toward the forest, away from the garage. The valiant little corgi, with snow up to his shoulders and short legs churning, was breaking a trail with his belly. Could he really get her home? Bear stared up at Mae. She clearly had no idea what the “Home” command meant.

  “Go on, Bear. Good boy, Titan.”

  Over a
n hour later, after hearing many repeated commands for “Home” and lots of verbal encouragement, the dogs led her out of the forest into a low, brushy bog. Beyond it, Mae saw a gravel road she recognized. She was several miles away from her car, but she knew the way from here. Overwhelmed with gratitude, she knelt down and hugged the excited dogs.

  “Good boy, Titan. Good girl, Bear.” Mae found herself in tears of cold and confusion. She got to her feet and started walking on legs that felt heavy and stiff. She dug for a tissue in her pocket and wiped her nose. She felt an ache in her throat and lungs. Another half hour of hard walking in what had become a serious white-out and Mae stood beside her car. She loaded the dogs, started the engine and looked at her cellphone. It was out of charge. Figures.

  Fifteen minutes later, she walked into her house, having dropped the exhausted young Bear off at the Butlers. Mae poured herself a hot coffee, grabbed a towel and dried Titan’s fur. Corgi ears were supposed to stand up straight, but his were drooping with fatigue. She rocked him in her arms. He was asleep in seconds, not even stirring when she laid him in his bed. Still feeling chilled, Mae got a blanket and curled up on the couch. Thoreau came up and sat beside the sofa. His large solid presence was always a comfort.

  “I’m so glad I still have you, old sweetie,” she said. The big Rottweiler licked her hand. Cold and exhausted, she fell asleep. About an hour later, the house phone rang. Mae sat up and grabbed the phone. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Mae, it’s Ben. Are you okay?”