Play Dead
at the dog. I
worried he was going to tell me he’d have to take Sage for evidence. He finally
nodded and muttered something indistinguishable, except for the word “wait.” He
headed through the gate and soon emerged, inspecting my leash in his hands.
    He handed me the leash, eyeing me as he
did so. “Be sure you’re at the station house no later than noon tomorrow.” His
words were quite forceful this time.
    “I’ll be there,” I said, battling my emotions
as I slipped the chain over the collie’s head. I hated being treated like
this—as a possible suspect. Mustering as much confidence as I could, I
said, “Sage, come,” and patted my thigh. He came with me in perfect heel
position on my left side. To his further credit, he managed to maintain this
all the way to my office, despite my brisk stride.
    I trotted down the steps and unlocked the
door to my office. Fortunately, I’d stashed the keys in my pants pocket and not
in my jacket. Ignoring Doppler’s cheerful, bouncy greeting, I pulled off Sage’s
leash then headed straight for the phone, and the dogs turned their attention
to each other.
    My remaining appointment was with a golden
and his owner, George Haggerty. George answered, and I explained that I would
have to postpone my appointment until the next day. “I’m terribly sorry for the
inconvenience,” I went on, “but I just witnessed a terrible accident and couldn’t
possibly give you and your dog the attention you deserve.”
    “An accident?” he asked. “What happened?”
    “Do you think I could possibly reschedule
to one P.M. tomorrow?” I asked, ignoring his question.
    “Uh, sure. That’d be fine. Rex and I will
be waiting.”
    I thanked him and hung up. According to
statistics, Rex was one of those perennially popular dog names, but this was
the first time I’d heard of a dog in Boulder with that name.
    Doppler was making it clear that he needed
to go outside—all but crossing his legs as the whites of his eyes turned
yellow. I took both dogs out, wondering what to do with Sage. Taking him to my
house was out of the question. Kaitlyn would never consider having such a large
dog at the house, and more important, being around Kaitlyn and all her
emotional storm patterns wouldn’t be healthy for Sage.
    I did a double take at my car as we
rounded the building toward the side lawn. Was it my imagination, or was my
Subaru listing to the right? I bent over and inspected the tires, and sure
enough, the right front was totally flat.
    “Shit!” What next? And why now? The tire
hadn’t been leaking. Maybe I’d run over a nail or something and hadn’t realized
it. Was everything connected? Had someone let the air out of my tire after
killing Beth? I glanced at the dogs, who were fine. I struggled to calm myself.
I’d go crazy if I started to think every least little thing was linked to Beth
Gleason.
    We returned to my office. Doppler was in
playful-dog mood while Sage was in such an anxious state that he might bite.
Sage growled at Doppler and trotted into Russell’s office and, to my surprise,
hopped onto the couch. My little dog followed, not taking the hint. I ushered
Doppler back into my office with me, closing Russell’s door.
    I grabbed my keys and went out to the car,
letting Doppler come with me, only to put him in the backseat to keep him safe
while I changed the tire. I’d just gotten the spare out of the trunk and was
unloading the jack when a deep male voice said, “Hi, there. Can I help?”
    Jumpy and out-of-sorts, I turned to face a
nicely built, bearded young man, but my eyes were immediately drawn to his dog,
a small mutt that appeared to be mostly terrier and toy poodle—a toodle.
When I looked back up, the man was smiling at me. His dark, almost black hair
was in need of a trim.
    “No, thanks. I can handle it.”
    Doppler and the toodle spotted each other
and barked—his giving a shrill yipping song, mine enjoying his superior
position up high in my

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