The Case of the Hurricane Hounds, page 1
part #8 of Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Series
The Case of the
Hurricane Hounds
A Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Mystery
B.R. Snow
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either used fictitiously or are the product of the author’s imagination. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written consent of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and punishable by law.
Copyright © 2017 B.R. Snow
ISBN: 978-1-942691-25-9
Website: www.brsnow.net/
Twitter: @BernSnow
Facebook: facebook.com/bernsnow
Cover Design: Reggie Cullen
Cover Photo: James R. Miller
Other Books by B.R. Snow
The Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Mysteries
The Case of the Abandoned Aussie
The Case of the Brokenhearted Bulldog
The Case of the Caged Cockers
The Case of the Dapper Dandie Dinmont
The Case of the Eccentric Elkhound
The Case of the Faithful Frenchie
The Case of the Graceful Goldens
The Whiskey Run Chronicles
Episode 1 – The Dry Season Approaches
Episode 2 – Friends and Enemies
Episode 3 – Let the Games Begin
Episode 4 – Enter the Revenuer
Episode 5 – A Changing Landscape
Episode 6 – Entrepreneurial Spirits
Episode 7 – All Hands On Deck
The Whiskey Run Chronicles – The Complete Volume 1
The Damaged Posse
American Midnight
Larrikin Gene
Sneaker World
Summerman
The Duplicates
Other Books
Divorce Hotel
Either Ore
To Dog Lovers Everywhere
Chapter 1
The plane shuddered as it passed through a small patch of turbulence, and I pressed my back hard against the seat, closed my eyes, and dug my nails into the armrests on either side of me. Both Josie and Chef Claire woke with a start and glared at me then examined the matching sets of indentations on their forearms.
“Uh. Ow,” Chef Claire said, rubbing her forearm.
“Yeah, thanks for that,” Josie said, yawning. “I was right in the middle of a great dream. I was being chased down a white-sand beach by this gorgeous guy, and I was just about to let him catch me.”
“You want to switch dreams?” Chef Claire said. “Mine was of me cooking at the restaurant, and no matter how fast I was filling the orders, they just kept stacking up. What do you think it means?”
“That you probably need a vacation,” Josie said, folding her hands in her lap as she gave me another dirty look.
“Makes sense,” Chef Claire said, nodding as she stared out the window at the ocean seven miles straight down.
“How can you two sleep when we’re about to drop out of the sky like a rock?” I said, staring straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of me.
“Well, I’m starting a week’s vacation and don’t plan on getting a lot of rest. And I need my beauty sleep,” Josie said.
“Yeah, you need beauty sleep like our dogs need another chew toy,” I said.
“Aren’t you sweet,” Josie said, closing her eyes. “Besides, I want to be well rested when we crash into the ocean.”
“You’re not funny,” I said.
“Disagree.”
A flight attendant arrived with our drink orders, and we all lowered our seat trays. The attendant handed us our glasses and bags of peanuts that weren’t big enough to get a zoo animal’s attention. We stared down at the peanuts and Josie shook her head sadly and looked up at the attendant.
“Pitiful,” Josie said.
“Yes, I know,” the attendant said, obviously very familiar with the complaint. “Would you like another bag?”
“No, thanks, that’s okay,” Josie said, reaching for the large carry on she had stuffed under the seat in front of her. “I think I’ve got it covered.”
Josie removed three Tupperware containers and placed them on her tray. She removed the plastic lids, and the attendant stared down at what was inside. Josie anticipated the question and pointed at each item as she outlined what was on the menu.
“Bacon wrapped barbecue shrimp. Fried jalapeno poppers with bacon and cream cheese. And bacon walnut brownies.”
“I’m sensing a theme here,” the attendant said.
“Yeah, I’m on a bit of a bacon kick lately,” Josie said. “Help yourself. Chef Claire made enough to feed a small army.”
“Actually,” Chef Claire said, reaching over for one of the brownies. “A small army would be easier to feed than this one. Try one of the shrimp.”
“I really shouldn’t,” the attendant said, looking in both directions before selecting and taking a bite of one of the shrimp. “Oh, my goodness. That’s so good. It’s a…what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Knee-buckler,” I whispered as I continued to stare straight ahead gripping the armrests as the plane roared through another patch of turbulence.
“That’s it,” the attendant said, helping herself to one of the bacon and cream cheese poppers. “These are incredible.”
“How can you people eat at a time like this?” I said, tightening my death grip on the armrests and closing my eyes.
“Hey, if you’re going to be clinging to a flotation device in shark infested waters, you don’t want to do it on an empty stomach,” Chef Claire said.
Josie and the attendant chortled. I ignored their laughter, but Chef Claire’s comment resonated. I opened my eyes and glanced at the Tupperware.
“Maybe you’ve got a point there,” I said, reaching for three of the shrimp, a popper, and two brownies.
“Is there anything else you need?” the attendant said, accepting the brownie Josie was holding out.
“Just an empty seat on my right.”
“Still not funny.”
“Disagree.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” the attendant said, laughing as she rolled her cart up the aisle.
“How much longer do we have?” I said, closing my eyes as I chewed a mouthful of brownie.
“I guess that depends,” Josie said.
“On what?”
“On whether or not we die immediately on impact.”
“Josie, please,” I said, opening my eyes to glare at her.
“A plane crash is the least of our worries,” Josie said.
“Is it now?”
“Yes. Didn’t you say that your mother is picking us up at the airport?”
“Don’t remind me,” I said.
My mother’s reputation for being a lead-foot driver devoid of patience was well deserved. I could only imagine how her usual method for getting from point A to B using whatever speed or route that struck her fancy would work on what I assumed would be a road system vastly different from the one we were used to.
“They drive on the left down here,” Chef Claire said, reaching for another brownie.
“Like that’s going to make any difference to my mother.”
The plane shook again for several seconds, and my stomach churned and threatened to return a whole lot of bacon. I fumbled in the seat pocket in front of me, found the bag I was looking for, and focused on my breathing as sweat began to form on my forehead.
“Can you make it to the bathroom without throwing up on me on your way out?” Josie said, quickly putting the lids back on the Tupperware.
“I don’t like my chances.”
“Then just sit there very still.”
I did just that, managed to keep everything down, and thirty minutes later the plane landed without incident then slowly taxied and came to a stop. We grabbed our carry on luggage and headed down the stairs to the tarmac, then were buffeted by a strong warm breeze that seemed appropriate for the eighty-degree temperature. I felt a bit better as soon as my feet were on solid ground, and I made the short walk across the tarmac and stepped inside the air-conditioned terminal.
I saw my mother before she knew we’d made it off the plane. She was sporting a tan that was so perfect I immediately assumed it came from a spray gun. She was wearing white shorts and a colorful floral-patterned blouse along with sandals and a pair of sunglasses I knew cost a small fortune. I knew this because I was left speechless and wondering if she’d lost her mind when she showed me the price tag while we were shopping in Montreal at Les Étoffes.
She was chatting and laughing with a handful of people and seemed totally relaxed. When she saw us coming through immigration, she excused herself from the others and waited with a huge smile.
“Hello, darling,” she said, crushing me with a hug and a kiss.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, grabbing her shoulders to look at her then going back in for a second hug. “You look great.”
“I wish I could say the same for you, darling,” she said, frowning. “Bad flight?”
“The worst,” I said, draping my carry on bag over my shoulder.
“The plane took off and landed safely, right?
“Yeah.”
“Did you throw up?”
“No.”
“Then you had a good flight,” she said, patting my hand. “Count your blessings. Hello, girls. Welcome to Grand Cayman.”
“Hey, Mrs. C.,” Josie said.
“Thanks for picking us up,” Chef Claire said.
They exchanged hugs and kisses, and my mom gestured for us to follow her to the baggage area. We grabbed our luggage and followed her outside to the parking area. She had a bounce in her step, and I was again amazed by her energy. Two identical four-wheel drive jeeps with the tops removed sat next to each other.
“Ladies, this is Henry,” my mother said, draping her arm around the shoulder of the man who was beaming at us. “Henry, this is my daughter Suzy, and her friends and business partners, Josie and Chef Claire.”
“It’s so nice to finally meet all of you,” Henry said. “Mrs. C. has told me so much about all of you.” Then he forced himself to stop staring at Josie and looked at Chef Claire. “Do you really prefer to be called Chef Claire instead of just Claire?”
“I do,” she said, nodding. “Weird, huh?”
“I’ve been called much worse,” he said, shrugging.
“Henry, would you mind loading all the luggage and taking it back to the house?” my mother said, reaching into her pocket for her car keys.
“Not at all,” he said. “I’ll see you there later.”
He gently arranged all our luggage into the back of the jeep, waved, and drove off. My mother gestured at the jeep she was driving, and Josie and Chef Claire climbed into the back seat. I sat down in the passenger seat next to my mother.
“He seems nice,” I said.
“Henry’s wonderful,” my mother said, slowly backing the jeep out. “He keeps an eye on the place for me when I’m not around. But when I’m down here, he moves out of the main house into the guest cottage.”
“What does he do for you?” I said, trying to remember what she had told me over the years.
“Pretty much everything,” she said, putting the jeep in forward and inching toward the exit. “And by the way, he handles the lawn and garden, so you’ll see him around outside. As such, when you’re sunbathing by the pool, you might want to keep your top on. That is unless you’re feeling adventurous, darling.”
“I’ve been here ten minutes, Mom,” I said, staring out at the road. “Don’t start.”
“Whatever you say,” she said, grinning as she glanced through the rear-view mirror into the backseat. “You ladies feel like stopping on the way home for some lunch?”
Josie glanced at Chef Claire who thought about it then nodded. Josie caught my mother’s eye in the mirror and raised both thumbs.
“I could eat.”
Chapter 2
The scenery changed soon after we left the area around the airport, a section of developed land my mother called sand-based industrial. Whatever the heck that meant. We headed into the center of George Town, the capital of the Cayman Islands with a population around 30,000. As we drove along the main street, I glanced around at the shops and preponderance of tourists wandering the street. I must have been frowning because my mother slowed down and glanced back and forth between me and the road for several seconds.
“Yes, darling?”
“This seems oddly familiar,” I said. “You didn’t bring me here when I was a kid, did you?”
“No. But it’ll come to you,” she said, smiling as she turned onto West Bay Road. “Up there on the left is the famous 7 Mile Beach. My place is just up the road at the far end.”
I glanced over at the magnificent stretch of sand and ocean and nodded absentmindedly as I continued to deal with the déjà vu I was experiencing. Finally, it dawned on me why the place looked familiar.
“It’s a Carribean version of Clay Bay, only bigger,” I blurted. “That’s why it seems so familiar, right?”
“Very good, darling,” she said, waving to someone on the street. “They have a very similar vibe. Of course, the tourist season here is a bit more year-round if you catch my drift.”
“Yeah, I got it, Mrs. C.,” Josie said from the backseat. “And right now at home, the drifts are about six-feet high. And they’re not made of sand.”
“Then aren’t you glad you’re here?” my mother said, laughing as she waved to a man standing on the side of the street waiting to cross. “Oh, there’s Gerald.”
“Who’s Gerald?” I said, studying the man who obviously wasn’t a tourist.
“Oh, he’s the Finance Minister,” my mother said, slowing down to avoid running over a small group of tourists.
“Well, he must be a very busy man,” I said.
“Why’s that, darling?”
“Because it looks like there’s a bank every ten feet. How many are there?”
“Too many to count, I’m sure,” my mother said, not taking her eyes off the road.
“Should I even ask why a place this small would need anywhere near that number of banks?”
“Probably not, darling,” my said, glancing over at me with a smile. “But you’ll meet Gerald tonight at dinner.”
“Okay, maybe I’ll just ask him,” I said, glancing into the backseat. “The Finance Minister is coming for dinner tonight.”
Way beyond being surprised by anyone my mother was on a first-name basis with, they both shrugged at the news and continued to glance out at the ocean.
“That’s a lot of cruise ships,” Chef Claire said.
“Yes, this is a busy time of year for them,” my mother said. “The port can’t handle their size, so they anchor offshore, and the passengers are ferried to shore.”
“I count seven of them,” Chef Claire said.
“I think it’s cruise ship mating season,” Josie deadpanned. “They head for warmer waters when they’re ready to make babies.”
“What does a cruise ship baby look like?” Chef Claire said, laughing.
“I think they start out as runabouts. Or maybe tour boats,” Josie said, frowning.
“They head for warmer water?” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Like the whales?” I said, giving her a blank stare.
“Exactly,” she said, grinning at me. “Still not funny?”
“Still not funny.”
“Did you forget to pack your sense of humor, darling?” my mother said, putting on her turn signal and checking all her mirrors. “I thought it was very funny, Josie.”
“Thanks, Mrs. C.”
My mother pulled off the road and parked in front of a beachside restaurant she couldn’t stop raving about. She led the way in, stopped to chat with several people, and five minutes later I had a long list of names and faces to remember. We sat down at a patio table near the sand, and my mother took the liberty of ordering Mudslides for all of us, a popular local drink made of equal parts vodka, Kahlua, and Bailey’s Irish Cream over crushed ice. I took a sip, then another and nodded.
“Apart from the ice, there’s nothing non-alcoholic in this thing,” I said.
“There’s a cherry on top,” Chef Claire said. “And I’m picking up a touch of cinnamon.”
“Well, that changes everything then,” I said, grinning through another sip. “Now I don’t feel so bad. But don’t let me have more than six of these.”
While everyone else stuffed themselves on fish tacos, I stuck to my guns regarding my aversion to all things fish and had a burger and fries. Everything was delicious, and now full and recovered from the flight, we climbed back into the jeep. I watched my mother slowly make her way back onto the road that would take us to her house. Eventually, I couldn’t help but ask the question.
“Are you sick, Mom?” I said, glancing over at her.
“Sick? Absolutely not. I feel wonderful. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re driving like a normal person.”
“This is the way I always drive down here, darling. Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?”
“Me?” I said, exasperated. “I’m talking about you, Mom. You always drive like a maniac.”
“Ah,” she said, waving the comment away. “The island is only about thirty miles long. Why on earth would I need to hurry?”
