“Well, at least he didn’t bite anybody,” he admitted grudgingly.
“Mugs would never bite anybody,” she replied, and then she shut her mouth. Because that wasn’t true. Mugs didn’t bite anybody who was nice. But, if anybody attacked her, well, Mugs was all over them. And she sure couldn’t count on the fact that he might not bite anybody under those circumstances.
The old guy looked at her with a knowing look and added, “All dogs bite.”
“Again, you’re right,” she agreed. “All dogs bite, depending on the circumstances.”
“Exactly, don’t ever expect an animal to do what you want them to do when the chips are down.”
An absentminded tone filled his voice.
“I don’t see you around here,” he noted abruptly.
He probably considered himself the Sarsons Beach Police. She smiled. “I’m from the Mission Creek side.”
“A little way away from home, aren’t you?” he asked suspiciously.
“No, not a whole lot,” she stated quietly. “I was here on Sunday and saw a box of poison in the garden bed, so I was hoping it had been cleaned up already.”
He frowned at her, turned to the exact same spot she spoke of, and nodded. “I cleaned it up. You could have done it when you were here,” he accused.
“And, if I had come by vehicle, I would have,” she explained. “I came on a paddleboard, and we left the same way, so it wasn’t an easy thing to collect it and to put it safely somewhere.”
“You could have put it in the garbage,” he stated.
“Maybe. I was also with a cop, and he called for somebody to come clean it up, so I assumed that it was being done immediately.”
At that, the old guy laughed. “The cops? Do something? Something like that? No way. They probably phoned the city to come do a clean-up. You know? Like in the grocery store. Clean up on aisle one.” And then he laughed at his own joke.
For somebody who supposedly didn’t talk much, he didn’t seem to want to shut up anytime soon. She asked him, “Where did you put it?”
“Me? I just threw it—” And then he stopped, frowned at her, and asked, “Why?”
“I just want to make sure it was safely disposed of, so we don’t have to worry about kids in the park getting at it.”
“Well, that’s why I cleaned it up,” he snapped, giving her that look that said she should have as well.
“And that’s why we called the authorities,” she repeated quietly. “I just want to make sure that nobody else will get poisoned.” And, of course, he pounced on that.
“Else? Did somebody get poisoned?”
The question was a little convoluted. She shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I know a guy who died recently of poison. So, when I heard that, I was thinking of this stash of poison, and I didn’t want anybody to get hurt from it,” she explained, wondering why it was getting harder to talk to this guy.
Again he nodded. “Well, I put it away.”
“You put it away?” she asked. “What does that mean?” He just glared at her. She held up a hand. “Sorry. I’m not trying to get too personal. I just want to make sure that it’s disposed of properly.”
“Well, I wonder if your properly done disposal is the same as mine,” he snapped. “In my day, we never would have left that out in the open for somebody to grab. We would have put it away on the top shelf in the back corner of a garage.” He just glared at her.
She nodded. “Well, hopefully nobody will have access to it there.”
“Of course not,” he retorted. “Pretty sure it was mine anyway.”
At that, she stiffened. “Did you have a break-in recently?”
He shrugged. “In my day, we didn’t lock up, like we have to now. Today it seems like just having a door means an open door. It used to be, if there was a door, locked or not, people respected it and didn’t walk in.”
“And so you didn’t keep it locked, and somebody walked in and helped themselves, is that it?”
He didn’t say anything, just continued to glare at her.
Doreen nodded. “Well, I’m sure the cops wouldn’t hold anything against you, if that were the case.”
“Cops? What cops?” he asked, frowning at her. “I don’t talk to no cops.”
“Right,” she replied, wondering at the added crankiness. “I just meant that, if anybody had been hurt by it, nobody would blame you if somebody had come in and broken into your place to steal your rat poison.”
“No, of course they wouldn’t.” He stared at her. “Why would you even think that? Rat poison can be purchased anywhere. Besides mine is old and at this point a mix of rat poisons.”
“I don’t know,” she murmured. “It was just a thought that crossed my mind.” She shook her head in confusion. “Why a mix?”
“Because I got some of a different brand from my brother way back when and forgot I had the box and bought a newer one a some point, but there was no point in keeping two so I dumped them altogether, not that it’s any of your business,” he snapped, then walked away, muttering something about “Stupid people. Interfering nosy-bodies …”
She watched him leave, and then, with the animals at her side, she hopped up to see just how far away he lived. She could hardly tell Mack that the poison had been picked up and was suspiciously taken from this old guy’s house if she didn’t at least have a name, and she highly doubted that the cranky old man would give her one—certainly not now. The only way she could get any evidence for Mack to pursue would be if she found out where he lived.
So, proceeding cautiously, knowing that this guy could cause her quite a lot of grief if he thought she was up to something, she watched as he disappeared into an cheap house that needed a lot of work at the end of the block. Well, not so much a cheap home but one which hadn’t been properly kept and maintained, like the other ones on this street. After all, this was prime real estate, close to the park, close to the beach.
She casually walked past the house he had entered, jotted down the number, without trying to make it look like she was, and then headed around the block, so that he wouldn’t think that she’d come deliberately after him. As soon as she was clear, she and her animals hopped back into her vehicle and drove home.
At least the whole time that she’d been with the old guy, Mugs hadn’t caused any disruption. Matter of fact, he just laid at her feet, ignoring the world going on around her. And that was a bit weird in itself too, but he seemed to be comfortable with the old man, so why wasn’t she?
Chapter 6
Back home again, Doreen sat down, added to her notes. She still didn’t have anything concrete but was a little bit closer to something, even if she didn’t know what that something was. She made herself a pot of coffee and waited in anticipation for it to be done.
When Nan phoned, just as she poured a fresh cup of coffee, she stared down at the Caller ID number and wondered if she should answer. If Nan invited her for a visit, Doreen would feel like she’d have to go—but she had just made coffee. … A limited supply in her world.