Tracy Hayes, Apprentice PI

Chapter Nine

Ten minutes later, Pippin and I made our first pass by Mrs. Jenkins' house. I was armed with the camera and a bunch of small plastic bags Mom had said were absolutely necessary when walking a dog.

"You will not leave his droppings behind."

I hadn't quite imagined scooping poop from the sidewalk when I took this job, but I didn't argue. The last thing I needed was the neighborhood watch descending on me while I tried to be unnoticed.

The woman from the previous night hadn't arrived yet – or at least her car wasn't there – so Pippin and I walked to the next crossing, pausing whenever he wanted, and then made our way slowly back again. To slow our progress further, I practiced using the camera by taking tons of photos of Pippin, who posed gracefully when I asked him to. Whoever he belonged to had clearly liked to photograph him a lot.

I'd managed to choose the appointed dog-walking time of the neighborhood, so my presence wasn't marked. I got unexpected help from the other dog walkers too, because they wanted to stop and chat with me, which gave me perfect opportunities to keep an eye on the house.

When dusk began to fall, we'd spent almost an hour traipsing the same stretch of street. Pippin didn't mind, but I was contemplating calling Dad to bring the car.

I decided to make one more round, but didn't get far when we were stopped again, this time by a man who came down the driveway of a house we were passing. I knew the house; it belonged to the family of the girl Trevor had taken to the senior prom. Suzy Carter. She had consequently broken his heart when she cheated on him with his best friend. Not at the prom though.

I didn't know this man, but that wasn't a wonder. The houses here had changed owners since I'd moved away. He wasn't interested in me anyway, but leaned over to make Pippin's acquaintance. Theme of the evening.

When he straightened up he positively loomed over me, making me take an involuntary step back. He was in his early thirties, well over six-feet tall, six-three at least, and too muscled for his suit jacket, even though it looked tailor-made. The collar of his dark silk shirt was unbuttoned; his thick black hair was combed backwards; his black brows were straight, and his dark brown eyes were deep set. I guess I would've considered him ruggedly handsome if I hadn't been so intimidated by him. He looked like a mafia enforcer, to be honest. Pippin seemed perfectly happy with him, but he liked everyone.

"What's his name?" the man asked. He had a cultured, baritone voice, which threw me a little. I'd expected something harsh.

"Pippin." I was amazed how calm I sounded. As luck would have it, the street had become deserted and I couldn't call anyone to help me if it came to that. He wasn't even threatening me, yet I was extremely nervous.

"Cute name."

"Cute dog," I answered.

"What breed is he?"

"I haven't got a clue."

That earned me a funny look. "You got him from a shelter?"

"He belongs to a friend and I forgot to ask." I hadn't made a conscious decision to lie, it just came out.

"I've been looking for a dog exactly like that," he said. "He ran away from my boss's daughter."

My heart stopped. "I'm sorry to hear that. Was it around here?" I tightened my hold of Pippin's leash.

"No, yours just caught my attention, that's all."

"Do you live here?" I nodded towards the house he'd come from.