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“Maybe,” Tom said, turning to walk away. “It’s been nice and quiet without him.”
Rowdy glanced around, looking at the fence. It seemed intact, although a few yards down from where he’d been leaning, there was a puff of white hair. It was attached to the top of the fence, caught under one of the woven wire knots. Tom pulled the hair, looking at it. No blood or anything. It was hard to tell how old it was.
Rowdy continued, along the side yard and down the front. He tried to avoid the snowy patches in the shadows, but he wasn’t always successful. The fence seemed intact all the way around. When he circumnavigated almost the entire yard, he found a man draping lights on a bush on the far side of the house. “Hello,” Rowdy called out, drawing close.
The man didn’t seem to hear him. Rowdy drew close and the man glanced up, startling badly. He dropped his pliers and danced back a few steps. Then he pulled an air pod out of his ear. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t hear you.”
The man spoke with a bit of a Hispanic lilt. “I’m sorry I scared you,” Rowdy told him, grinning.
The other man waved a hand. “I should have been watching. I was lost in the music.”
“What are you listening to?” Rowdy asked, trying to put the man at ease.
“Um,” the man looked down at his hands, as if just realizing he’d lost his shears. “I’m listening to Cats, the musical.”
Rowdy nodded. “I thought I recognized Memory.”
The gardener grinned. “Yes, it’s one of my favorites.”
Rowdy introduced himself and explained his reason for being there. The man’s face fell, and he shook his head. “Poor Cookie. I’ve walked this yard several times, looking for a hole in the fence or something, but there’s nothing. There were no prints in the snow yesterday, but it had snowed the day before. The front gate is always closed, and we don’t get a lot of visitors. I don’t understand where he’s gone.”
“When is the last time you saw him?”
“Three days ago, in the back yard. He was barking, but,” Ernesto shrugged. “I just put my headphones in and go to work. Linda or Annabelle is responsible for the dog, but I always kind of keep an eye on him. For them.”
His cheeks took on a ruddy cast, and Rowdy wondered which woman he was sweet on.
He held out his hand. “Thanks, Ernesto.”
2
Rowdy made his way on around the house and let himself in the back door of the kitchen. He wiped his boots on a rug but debated taking them off. The cook looked up, her broad face splitting into a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Come on in,” she urged. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”
Rowdy nodded, his hips aching from the cold. “I would appreciate that.”
The woman waved a hand at a small table near a window looking out on the back yard. “Have a seat.”
Rowdy watched as she poured him a steaming cup of tea and set it on a saucer. She checked a pot on the stove before she walked the cup and saucer over to him. “I’m Rowdy,” he said, taking it from her.
“Nice to meet you, Rowdy. I’m Emma.”
“Will you join me, Emma?”
The chef settled into the chair across from him with a sigh. “Thank you, Rowdy. I’m at a good place to take a little break. No luck finding Cookie, hm?”
Rowdy shook his head. “Everyone saw him about the same time three days ago, but not since then.”
Emma’s round face turned sad. “I don’t know what Mrs. Dodd is going to do without that little dog. He’s her closest companion since her husband died. And with it being so close to Christmas…”
Rowdy winced. He didn’t want to think about this being a dead-end case. Possibly literally. “I know the assistant is calling vets, but did you check with animal control?”
“I’m sure she probably has, but you should confirm with Annabelle.”
“I will. Is she around?”
Emma’s eyebrows furrowed. “She should be. Let me text her.”
Within a few minutes, Rowdy heard light footsteps coming through the house toward the kitchen. He looked up and blinked. And lost his breath.
