The Fashion Hound Murders by Elaine Viets

rough.”
    Jonah could have stepped out of an 1890s photo. His thick black hair was long and handsomely streaked with gray. His bushy, untrimmed beard hid his neck and his shirt collar.
    Jonah wore overalls, a brown fleece-lined barn coat, a flannel shirt, and leather work gloves. He was followed by two boys who looked younger than Amelia. Their jeans were dirty. Their jackets were too light for the night chill. Josie wanted to clean them up, wrap them in heavy sweaters and winter coats, and buy them gloves and hats.
    Their poor round heads were shaved to the scalp, which made the boys look like space aliens. Josie wondered whether Jonah was doing his own barbering or if the boys had had head lice. Shaving off the hair was the quick, cheap treatment. Well, lice happened at even the best schools, and the critters spread quickly.
    But there was no excuse for those small, red hands protruding from the boys’ worn jackets. What kind of mother would abandon her boys?
    “Jerry!” Jonah took off his work gloves and stuffed them in a pocket. “Why didn’t you warn me you were coming?” His smile showed crooked teeth, but there was no warmth in it. Josie saw his eyes were steely with suspicion. Jonah was not pleased by his uninvited visitors.
    “We came to pet the pups,” Jerry said. “But we can leave if you want.”
    “No, no, might as well stay now that you’re here,” Jonah said ungraciously. “Is that a new puppy I see in your truck?”
    “That’s Chloe,” Jerry said. “She’s a yellow Lab mix. Got her at the Humane Society.”
    “Now, Jerry, why did you go and do that, paying their fancy prices? I could have gotten you a good deal on an AKC-registered pup and you wouldn’t have had to have it spayed, either. Could have had yourself a good little mon eymaker, once you bred her.”
    “Thanks,” Jerry said. “But you’ve got all those froufrou dogs.”
    “The ladies like the little dogs,” Jonah said. “I’ve got Pekes, Chihuahuas, bichons, toy poodles, miniature dachshunds, all good sellers. You can put any of my dogs in a purse.”
    “I don’t carry a purse,” Jerry said. “I needed a guy dog, Jonah. Let me introduce my two friends, Josie and Amelia. Amelia likes pups.”
    “She can’t buy one,” Josie said quickly, hoping Jonah would ask them to leave. She hated this place. The air seemed thick with neglect and cruelty, as well as evil odors.
    “Uh, Jerry, could I talk to you for a minute. Alone?” He pointedly escorted Jerry back by a shed. Five minutes later, the two were back.
    “Well, come on in, little lady,” Jonah said, with another insincere smile and a too-cheerful, “It doesn’t cost anything to look.” Josie thought that should be the puppy mill’s motto.
    Jonah’s mud-spattered work boots thunked across the wooden porch. Josie stepped carefully, avoiding the loose boards. Amelia followed. The two blond boys trailed behind her.
    Their skin was so white, Josie could see the blue veins under the nearly transparent skin. They were too skinny.
    “Hey!” Jonah said to the boys. “You two boys have work to do. Go clean out the shed.”
    The boys shuffled off without a word, like tired old men. There were none of the ritual protests kids gave when confronted with a job they didn’t want to do. Billy had a dark bruise on his right wrist.
    Jerry was still teasing Jonah about his pedigreed purse dogs. “God gave dogs legs so they can walk,” he said.
    The house’s old front door had pretty carving around an oval opening that had once held beveled glass. Now it was covered with unpainted plywood. Jonah opened it and the three followed Jonah into what used to be a large living room. It still had faded rose-covered wallpaper with lighter places where pictures once hung. He flipped on an old brass chandelier with three bare bulbs hanging from a cracked plaster ceiling. Worn yellow linoleum covered the floor.
    The room was jammed with wire cages set over a series of troughs to catch