The Case of the Invisible Dog by Diane Stingley

the invisible dog.”
    “But there hasn’t been any barking.”
    “No, there has not,” Shirley said. “We have heard no barking. And more importantly, Matt Peterman has heard no barking, either. I’ve been a fool, Tammy. I was so busy looking for what should have been there that I didn’t notice what wasn’t there at all. I have been worse than a fool. If the dog is no longer barking, then the evil end for which it was designed must have been accomplished. I fear that we are too late.”
    Before I knew what was happening, Shirley marched over to the sliding glass door and began hitting it with her cane until it shattered. I leaped back as the glass rebounded off the inside screen door and went flying everywhere, but she closed her eyes and stood there calmly until all the pieces had fallen. Then she stuck her arm through the jagged edges, pushed open the side lock, and slid the metal frame across.
    “What are you
doing
?” I asked frantically, unable to believe what she had just done.
    “If I’m lucky, saving a man’s life.”
    Shirley wrenched open the screen door and then hopped inside to avoid all the broken glass on the deck. I stood there frozen, too shocked to move, and then a light came on next door.
    “What’s going on down there?” a male voice asked.
    I looked up and saw an attractive man in his early thirties staring at me from a second-floor window of the house next door. I was beside myself and so embarrassed I couldn’t speak. Our eyes locked momentarily, and then I saw him take in the broken door and its shattered glass around my feet.
    “I’m calling the police,” he shouted as his head quickly disappeared back inside.
    That was it for me. I couldn’t allow myself to get arrested for breaking and entering; that was taking it too far. What had I been thinking? Why had I even believed that ridiculous story about an invisible dog? There had to be a simple, logical explanation, and the most obvious one was that it was all in Matt Peterman’s head. And from there it had, unfortunately, landed inside the head of Shirley Homes, who wouldn’t know a simple, logical explanation if it walked up and shook her hand. And I had let myself get sucked in.
    I would have run back to my car like the wind, but I had to take my time tiptoeing around the broken glass. I had just made it to the edge of the deck when I heard a scream from inside the house—a woman’s scream. I stopped and turned around. I wanted nothing more than to get out of there. I had no doubt that the man next door had called the police by now, and they were probably already on their way.
    But if Shirley was in trouble…I couldn’t just walk away and leave her there after hearing her scream. Damn the woman. I tiptoed back to the broken door, making my way around the shattered glass as best I could, and stepped inside. I raced through the living room and then stopped at the bottom of the stairs next to the kitchen.
    “Shirley?” I called out. “Are you all right?”
    There was no response. I called out her name once more.
    “I am fine,” she finally called back. “But I’m afraid our client is not. We are too late.”
    “Too late? Too late for what?”
    “Too late for Matt Peterman,” she said. “He’s dead.”
    Before I could wrap my head around that particular statement I was startled by a sound—a sound that stopped me in my tracks and gave me goose bumps. Then I heard the wail of sirens off in the distance. I had no doubt that they were headed our way, but that wasn’t why I felt so chilled. It was the sound I’d heard right before the sirens. A sound that had only lasted for a moment or two. One quick bark. And then it was gone.

Chapter 6
    I tried telling myself that I must have imagined that bark, and there were more pressing matters to worry about at the moment. Those sirens were getting louder—which meant closer—and I was in a hell of a mess. I was still standing there like a dummy, wondering what in the